everydoorshut | [rp] I found the steel ladder, now your ceilings don't matter

[rp] I found the steel ladder, now your ceilings don't matter

a. generic opener of generic openness

Free time is rare. It's been rare since she joined the SSR, and only getting rarer all the time since. Still, eventually some kind of quiet moment has to fall into everyone's lap, and despite Peggy's insistence on getting involved in as much as possible, she's not exempt from that.

Not that she has much to do with her free time. At the moment, she's found herself sat at the bar, nursing a drink and deciding what to do with herself if the quiet manages to last past when she finishes it.

b. action opener of generic missionness

Mission nearly over, item extracted, barely minutes before being ready to call for her extraction, Peggy freezes at the sound of footsteps somewhere on the other end of the dark hallway. Help rejoining her early? Maybe. A threat, whether or not they already know she's there? Entirely too likely.

Gun drawn and ready, she slips down the entrance to her right, hiding herself in the shadows as best she can without compromising any ability to see who's heading in her direction. If they're friendly, she'll make herself known. If they're not....

Well, she's gotten fairly lucky on this mission so far; maybe they'll miss her entirely.

c. magical/psuedoscientific shenanigans are the best thread openers

When the (sadly literal) smoke clears, Peggy finds herself knocked over, somewhere completely different than she had been.

One minute she'd been standing in the lab watching Howard prod at the subject of their latest successful mission. Whether he should be prodding at any technology that they aren't familiar with is probably a matter of debate, but Peggy isn't going to be the one to debate it, at least at the moment. The science is mostly his province at the moment, and it's not like he walks into missions telling her how to run them. And they need to know what they're dealing with.

Then a flash of light, and now she's here, blinking the smoke out of her eyes to try and focus on the features of the whoever's standing over her, even as she asks (demands, really), "Where am I?"

d. look I suck at openers okay

[Desire for something to do that doesn't fit either of these? Want a WS-era Peggy? Familyverse Peggy? ~~Sad hopeless HYDRA AU Peggy that I'm totally not getting distracted from this post by writing? Winter Solider Peggy because tumblr has too much awesome fanart?~~ Some AU we have or haven't discussed? Start a thread or tell me what you're looking for and I will start one.

Alternately if you want any AU specifically for one of the above openers, I can do that too, just tell me. Verse/timeline clash is always welcome.]

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As much as the propaganda machine likes to pretend otherwise, Captain America physically cannot fight the forces of HYDRA and the Nazis every single moment of the day. That's not even factoring in keeping one's sanity. War is an awful thing and this one especially is no exception. After a particularly harrowing mission, Steve has to admit he needs a moment or two to catch his breath so to speak.

The members of his team must be in agreement as well since they waste no time sharing the location of Agent Carter with the soldier. Their relationship may be professional in every way that counts, but emotionally? Not so much.

When the constant horror truly starts to wear Steve down she has a way of making things seem less hopeless. Even as he enters the bar the sight of her instantly evokes a smile. Steve wastes no time walking over. "This seat taken?"

Her shoulders tighten at the sound of footsteps behind her -- not because of the fear of a threat, she wouldn't be risking a drink or her back to the door if there wasn't as close to a guarantee of safety as they can manage here and now; but she's enjoying her moment to herself, and she's not in the mood to be hit on by some lonely stranger. But she catches sight of the familiar form out of the corner of her eye, and the tension melts.

Steve is another story entirely, and spending time with him is not the chore some of the others might be.

"No, not at all. Please." She gestures for him to sit with a warm smile, lifting her gaze as the bartender starts in their direction. "I thought your boys were going to be gone until tomorrow. Finished early?"

Steve offers a tight smile at her question, taking a seat next to her. It practically screams things hadn't gone as well as he would have liked. It's impossible to save everyone, but the soldier manages to be disappointed every time he is reminded of that. "I'd say we got in a little late." He makes an order for something stronger than usual before turning his attention back to Peggy. "It's not like you to take a break." It's a general observation as well as an invitation. He's not sharing his day, but he would happily listen to hers.

Her expression flickers, sad and understanding, as he turns his attention away. Things going badly is always hard, and Steve always seems to take it harder than just about anyone else when it happens.

She elects not to ask for details, taking the change in subject instead. If he wants to talk she can work it out of him later; if not, she can get the details somewhere else. "Everyone has to eventually. I thought it best to do so before I went cross-eyed. There's something information we're waiting on that might change some of the priorities right now, anyway."

[When we're not working on getting you a sample for Teleios I totally want in on that Winter Soldier Peggy AU!!]

[Left slightly vague on purpose; feel free to run with first meeting, second confrontation, or even a confrontation after the whole 'taking down SHIELD/HYDRA thing is over?]

Agent Peggy Carter is a part of the legend. Not as big as Captain America, but a firm footnote in his story. The lost love, the girl he should've been around to marry. Tragically lost in action not six months after the Captain's plane went into the ocean. Foolhardy because she missed him so much, some people say; other people, young girls especially, look up to her as a role model, a woman on the front lines with fantastic lipstick and better aim.

The Winter Soldier, on the other hand, is a ghost. Never seen, unless they're after you. Real identity unknown. Nobody's even sure if the rumor that regularly crops up about it being a woman is true or not. Except, of course, the people she answers to.

She's not so different as she used to be, in some ways. Her hair is less carefully coiffed and more wildly curled, she wears boots instead of heels. But she can still down a man in one punch. Her lipstick is still perfect and her aim is better still. And she still believes, with wholehearted passion, in what she's doing, in HYDRA and her mission for the world.

She still has faith.

Her handlers tell her her next target is a rallying point for those who would defy them, a pretty piece of propaganda for the "free" world to look to. They tell her that to take him out will mean doing more for their cause in one fell swoop than anything else she's ever done. She doesn't understand the meaning of their heavy glances on her as they finally consent to show her his picture; they stand too far back for even her enhanced hearing to catch their whispers. But she knows they're wary, so she says nothing about the strange twinge of recognition at the sight of the costumed man in the picture, assumes she must have seen him in a poster or a commercial on a previous mission. She tells them what a pleasure it will be to complete it.

But when she comes face-to-face with the man, he's not wearing a costume, and while his build is a perfect match and the shield he holds makes him unmistakable -- he's still recognizable. And not because of the propaganda costume. She knows his face. How on Earth could she know his face? If she'd met him before, she's sure they'd have had her kill him. From the short story she'd been told, she thinks they'd wanted him dead before they ever gave her her purpose.

It makes her sloppy. It makes her miss, hit that damn shield instead of his face. It makes her wonder, takes her mind off the mission for a second too long, makes her prone to fail. And that should just make her more determined. She lifts her gun to his head and she knows she should pull the trigger, shouldn't stop for a second. But she looks at his face and she can't stop the words before they come out.

"Who are you?"

Steve never bought the line that Peggy had been foolhardy. Their work was always dangerous. Being lost in the line of duty isn't an uncommon fate even for the best. He mourned her once he learned the truth (and never stopped.)

Steve tried his best to follow the example of others who celebrated her life. An elementary school in Washington once convinced him to speak about her on Veteran's Day. As painful as it was, he'll never forget the look on those girl's faces as he shared his experience fighting alongside her. The legend of Peggy Carter changed their lives and their mother's before them. She was a symbol and he liked to think she would be proud to see her influence span through the generations like this.

In hindsight, those hopeful thoughts seem terribly naive. Steve would know that shade of red hair anywhere even if those red curls were wilder now. It makes him sloppy. Steve never raises the shield to protect his face so it's a stroke of luck she aims lower. He'd be dead otherwise. Hell, he might be dead now if she pulls the trigger.

Steve knows the moves it would take to properly defend himself right now. He can't bring himself to engage because it's her. All he can do is stare at this ghost in astonishment. "Peggy...?" Steve similarly cannot stop the words that spill out. It takes another second for him to process the question. It only adds to his clear confusion. "It's Steve. Peggy... you know that." Anxiety seeps into his voice at those last three words. It is her, isn't it? He's not just going crazy and mistaking an assassin for his lost love, right? At this point, Steve can't be sure. He hasn't exactly been in a good place since waking up from the ice.

Natasha sits on the floor, her eyes closed and body still humming pleasantly from the night's activities. She's let her head roll back so that it hits the side of the bed and leaves her neck exposed but she's safe here, she can do things like that.

She's considered moving a couple of times at this point, getting to her feet, stretching, maybe even getting some water, but she's comfortable where she is and moving just seems like so much effort right now. No, she'd much rather laze here where she's content and happy.

Peggy is quiet as she moves around the room, stretching, setting things aside to put away, switching the light out for the reading lamp on her nighttable in case they decide to sleep. She knows from experience that if she lets herself sit down for long, she won't get up again; she's not quite so lazy as Natasha is after their time together, but she's still content to settle in and stop moving. So she makes sure there's nothing she needs to take care of first.

She steps out the bedroom door, but her flat is small; it's not hard to hear her rustling around, grabbing her bathrobe from the back of her bathroom door, moving to the kitchen and running the tap. She doesn't sit till she makes her way back in, still settling on the edge of the bed next to where Natasha's settled, setting a hand on her shoulder.

"Do you want anything?"

She's more than content to just sit there while Peggy takes care of things. It feels nice to relax, just as nice as the events that had just taken place, and she's so comfortably pleased with things that she barely opens her eyes when the woman returns.

"I'm all right," she assures. Her head rolls back for a moment and she stretches a little, a yawn escaping her. "We really should do this more often."

[Do with this post what you wish. My brain is failing at starters right now but here is a Tony in any variety you'd like}

It's not easy, being parents and both being SHIELD agents, but as Peggy finds herself in charge of more and more agents, she finds herself more often ending up the one at home with Tony. That's not to say she doesn't have work to do -- because she does, more and more as the organization grows. But at some point, she found herself running things from home base, while Steve found himself settled into a level that kept him going out on missions.

She worries about him, of course she does, but they also need him out there. He's hard to kill, hard even to hurt. Not all of their agents can say that, and plenty of them have spouses and children to worry about them as well.

And so he's off, for what's projected to be at least a week, possibly longer, depending on how things go. Which means lots of rearranging her schedule to work as much as possible while Tony's in school, and a little bit of having to hire babysitters when there's something sensitive she can't take home, which is frequently the case. But not tonight; tonight, miracle of miracles, she even thinks she may not have to even do much work to catch up when and if she manages to get Tony into bed.

It's relief, at the break and the time to spend with her son, that drives her to his door a couple of hours after picking him up. Or at least, that's what she tries to project. The truth is, and he very well know it most likely, it's mostly worry. Five days in and while not having any contact is part of the mission and expected, she can't help but wonder, can't help but be a little afraid that this will be the one Steve won't come back from. And she knows Tony's probably worried as well.

She knocks at the door and waits for his assent before pushing it open, stopping in the doorway with a hand on the knob. Doing her best to look as if it actually makes a difference, she opens with, "How's your homework coming?"

(But to be honest, she doesn't care all that much. She knows her boy's smart enough for it not to matter, and Steve's absence makes her want to put the rules and order aside in favor of a little family comfort.)

Tony is sprawled out on the floor, playing with...something. He's taken it apart obviously and now seems to be studying the insides and slowly rebuilding it so that it might work that much better.

"Huh?" He looks up at the mention of his homework, then waves it off. "Oh yeah, got that done a while ago."

It was boring and he was just happy to be done with it, it meant there was more time to do other things.

He's not an unobservant child though and his eyes catch his mothers for a moment and he blinks. "You okay?" Pushing himself upright, he looks at her with an expression of concern.

She watches him from the doorway, smiling a little as she sees him fiddling with something or other. She has no idea what he's doing, but she enjoys watching him do it.

"I'm all right," she reassures, because she doesn't need to tell Tony everything; he doesn't have to know that she's scared for her husband, or desperately lonely. But she knows he can see it's not true, so she relents to add, "But I could do with some company. Feel like spending some time downstairs, when you're done there?"

"Sure" He grins, pushing himself upright and watching her for a moment. "Let me put this stuff away, then I'll be down there. Or you can help?" He likes it when she helps, even if its just in putting things back where they belongs.

Getting to his feet, he starts collecting things from the floor settling them onto the desk. he needed to not leave it on the ground otherwise it would drive him nuts.

SHIELD scientists are professionals. Highly competent, highly trained professionals. And for all the professionalism, they are still, very often, children when faced with something interesting. Overgrown children who say hey hey Agent Carter can we have clearance to poke the thing? pleaaaase? you can watch us, it'll be fine! in only slightly more professional terms.

She may exaggerate a little. But only a little. And she has the right to exaggerate when they nearly blow up half her labs.

There's smoke in her eyes and she's knocked onto the floor in the ensuing explosions, and when the smoke starts clearing, she very quickly notices two things. First, this is not the lighting or the setup of the SHIELD labs. Second, there is a man standing over her, and she has no idea who he is.

No idea who he is, but as the smoke starts to clear and she blinks free of the sting of it, there's something very familiar about him, in the strangest way. He almost reminds her a little of--

Well, it doesn't matter, because Howard's three years in the grave and a second look tells her very clearly this is not Howard. Which leaves two questions.

"Who are you? And where is this?"

He grins down at her, laughing a little and offering her a hand. "Sorry," he says. "I wasn't trying to make anything explode. Not today at least."

Occasionally that is the desired effect but definitely not this time.

After a second more of smiling, he puts on an innocent look, one that says he couldn't possibly have done this to make her frustrated.

[I am not able to brain a starter other than that for now, though.]

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[rp] I found the steel ladder, now your ceilings don't matter

a.

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D.

yeeeeees. let me know if you want anything changed?

it's perfect!

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I should really get Tony a good journal I like for him

option the first, or, watch Morgan overramble the setup

Re: option the first, or, watch Morgan overramble the setup

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option the second, or watch Morgan bastardize its setup (canon or grownup family Tony, your choice?)

Grown up family? :D Cause I am in the mood for them for some reason.

Some kind of WS-era mashup of weirdness? IDK BUCKY CAN HAVE A US MISSION.