Steady As A Rock

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/25598506.

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: F/M
Fandom: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Agent
Carter (TV), Agent Carter (Marvel Short Film)
Relationship: Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers
Character: Peggy Carter, Steve Rogers
Additional Tags: warning for ptsd, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Peggy Carter
Has PTSD, Steve Rogers Has PTSD, Protective Steve Rogers, Peggy
is just tired, SteggyWeek20, Steggy Week, Steggy - Freeform, Free
day, War drains a person, Depressing, Sad, Angst, Angst and
Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Feels
Language: English
Series: Part 7 of Steggy Week 2020
Stats: Published: 2020-07-29 Words: 1484

Steady As A Rock
by CaptainJimothyCarter

Summary

War has drained Peggy to the point of exhaustion, to where she is forced to go against her
better judgment and find sanctuary in Steve's arms for just one brief moment.

Notes

Warning: this is fairly depressing, but honestly raw emotions. Yes, Peggy is a strong
woman who holds her head high, but even Peggy is just human.

See the end of the work for more notes

“Steven? Are you awake?”

The whispered words from a well-known voice caused the Captain’s eyes to open, finding his skin
sticky from the humidity in the air. The light sheet he wore fell from his naked chest as he sat up,
brushing a hand through his sleep ruffled hair. It was nearly pitch black in his tent, Steve’s
enhanced senses allowing him to see by the minimal light the full moon offered them.
Automatically he went to turn on the gas lantern to give Peggy light to enter by until he stopped
with the thought that he didn’t want to alert any of the other soldiers or Phillips that Peggy was
sneaking into his tent.

“Yeah, I’m up, Pegs. Are you okay?”

There was a tone seeping into her voice that Steve nearly missed, not used to hearing it in her
voice. It sounded like someone who could barely just keep their emotions in check. Something had
happened.

When Peggy stepped through the flaps, the first thing Steve noted was the redness around her eyes,
as if she’s been struggling not to cry for the last several hours. When those normally sharp eyes
laid on him, her chin dimpled and bottom lip started to tremble despite her best efforts.

She was close to breaking.

“Oh, Pegs.”

The humidity had caused her hair to become wild with a mass of curls, pulled off of her neck by a
scrap of fabric in some attempt to remain cool this evening. She still wore her skirt and jacket, the
tie undone in a hasty manner that told him she’d had yet another late night pouring over
documents.

“Perhaps I-I should go,” she whispered, her voice cracking under the strain of her own emotion.
“This was a mistake, you’re obviously trying to sleep. And it’s late, you -”

“Hang on, now. Peggy-” Steve hurriedly stood up, the blanket pooling at his feet. His feet tangled
in the blanket and only avoided falling flat on his face by Peggy catching him by the chest. He
offered a sheepish smile as she corrected him and he untangled himself. “I knew you’d always be
there to sweep me off my feet.”

That earned a small, wet chuckle from Peggy, the tears already starting to gather in the corner of
her eyes. She blinked hard to avoid shedding them, but it proved successful as Steve lowered
himself to the cot and pulled her down into his lap. He situated her so she was laying against his
chest, her legs tucked against his side.

If anyone was to come in, especially Phillips there would be hell to pay for such a position. There
would be no way one could explain why they were laying like this. There was only so much
Phillips could turn a blind eye to amongst those under him.

Steve’s broad hand soothed over her back, smoothing out the wrinkles of her clothes. “What’s
wrong, Pegs? And don’t you dare say nothing. I’ve never seen you this worked up before.”

Late at night, in the privacy of her own quarters, Peggy would allow herself the silent cry from the
fears and frustrations of the day. She knew Steve had heard a time or two because come morning a
little gift would be waiting at her desk. Rather it was his ration of chocolates or it was a steaming
cup of coffee, it always brought a small smile to her face.

Peggy sniffled despite herself, feeling ridiculous in the manner Steve was cradling her and for how
she was reacting. Truth was, she just needed the comfort, and however the risk it was, she found
that comfort in Steve’s arms.

In the minimum moonlight pouring in from the small holes in the canvas, she could make out how
tired Steve was. The black bags under his eyes, the crinkles in the corner of them. It mirrored her
own. The wrinkles in the corners of her eyes, the darker bags that seemed to be permanently etched
into her skin. Only masked by the slightest touch of makeup.

“We lost a-another fifteen m-men,” Peggy whispered, unable to speak any louder. “German planes,
late at night. Phillips has been writing letters all afternoon. He finally sent me to bed when I was
falling asleep at the desk with his files. It-it’s just…”

She turned to bury her face into Steve’s chest, her hand curling amongst his warm skin. Steve
curled himself around her as if he could protect her from the horrors of this war.

That was the horror of the war, wasn’t it? You expected death, you expected it in the reports you
read, the numbers growing larger and larger by the day. You expect to see names you know,
friends you made, even people you consider family until you ask yourself is it worth it to get close
to people just to lose them? You see their faces in your dreams, swimming above you. Distant
memories that will be forgotten in time.

That’s the cost of war. Where you lead the Howling Commandos through the trenches and
destroyed towns, knowing the story of what took place here would be the same amongst all over
the war-torn country. Where, at the end of the day, as you laid your head down to rest, you were
unsure if you’d live to see another day.

The cost of war took away the good men and women who were able to step up and serve their
country. People you were close to, people you shared drinks and laughs with. Brothers who you
comforted when they cried because war exhausted you to the point that you could do nothing, but
cry. How the innocent ones were exposed and killed and people were left to scramble to pick up the
pieces without a moment's notice to mourn the dead because wasting even one second could mean
another senseless death.

God, did Steve know the horrors more than anyone.

History would write the war through the victor’s eyes. It would remember the dead and the dying
but not the innocent souls who had suffered. Not the towns who were now tarnished and never to
be whole and same again.

Every night, he played the horrors of the war in his head, counting down his days until it was him
laying on that field, struggling to breathe as his lungs filled with blood.

“Peggy…” Steve closed his eyes and buried his nose into her hair. She must’ve freshened up
before coming over, the scent of rose water was much stronger now. “I am so sorry. It’s going to
end, w-we’ll find a way to end it.”

What else could he do, but apologize over and over again? For something that would happen
tomorrow and the next day and next, until the war came to a halt and God only knows when that
would be.

“Come here. You need to rest, I am not letting you be alone tonight.”

Laying down, he laid them on his side, Peggy’s face buried into his chest. He could feel her lashes
tickling his bare chest, wet tears dripping on his skin. His arms wrapped around her, one hand
cradling in her hair and undoing the piece of fabric. He smoothed his fingertips through the rough
curls, his other hand dipping to rub at the small of her back.
 She clung to him like tomorrow would be his last, as if the Lord was going to call them home.
Hell, Steve couldn’t blame her.

“Let it out, Peggy. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, darling.”

The first sob shook through Peggy’s torso, working from her chest in a wet cough. She clung to
Steve, nails biting into his skin as one sob followed after the other. Until her shoulders were
shaking and her tears drenched her face. All Steve could do was hold her close, kissing her temple
in some attempt at physical comfort.

He didn’t try to stop her sobs or silence them. He just slowly rubbed her back and let her cry it out
like she needed to. The dam had been threatening to break for so long and now the water was
flowing.

Peggy couldn’t tell you for how long she cried or what was whispered or blubbered between her
sobs. Only that at some point in her tearful sorrow with the weight of the war and world on the
both of them, she’d cried herself into an exhausted sleep.

Steve would wake up at the crack of dawn, his arms empty and a blanket tucked around him
despite the sticky heat. He grunted as he sat up, hoping Peggy was okay. A note sat, just barely
visible under his lantern. Flipping it open, Steve smiled when the barest scent of rose water wafted
towards him.

I hope you know that you snore. - PC

P.S. Thank you, Steven, for being my rock.

End Notes

At least, in the end, we know they got their happy ending, which is what I told myself as I
cry while writing this.

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