Just so you know, I started this a few weeks before Endgame and had to majorly rewrite the beginning intro. Overall, I'm really excited to see where writing this leads. Peggy and Steve is my OTP so this should have plenty of Steggy in it. Anyway, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers, or Captain America, or anything in the Marvel verse.

"Peggy?"

Peggy sighed, before replying, "I'm here."

"I'm going to need a raincheck on that dance."

That struck Peggy hard. She barely held back tears, managing to reply, "Alright. A week Saturday. The Stork club."

"Okay, you got it."

"Eight o'clock on the dot, if you're three minutes late I'm leaving; do you understand?" She managed to smile, but she couldn't help the tears that slowly dripped down her face.

"I still don't know how to dance."

Peggy closed her eyes, "I'll show you. I'll show you everything. Just be there." Her voice was breaking, cracks inevitable. Oh Steve…

"Maybe the band could play something slow, I'd hate to step on your…"

Static.

"No…" Peggy stared at the radio transmitter, her eyes closed. He can't be dead…


Five years had passed. Peggy had gone from New York to Hollywood, and back. She'd become the director of SHIELD. She'd dated around, a bit. But no man… no man would ever compare to him.

Peggy believed that Steve was the only person for her… but he was dead. She'd have to find someone else, but no one could live up to the standards Steve had set. His sweet personality, his courage… looks helped as well, but Peggy had liked Steve more for who he was. She kept his picture on her desk at all times, the one from before the serum, when he'd just been regular old Steve Rodgers. She'd look at it from time to time, being reminded of the wartime… and Steve. The war had been horrible. But without that war, she might not have known Steve, or earned the respect of many, many American men. She'd made a name for herself around SHIELD after the war, but the war still greatly affected her life.

But five years was a long time, and she felt as if there were a one percent chance Steve was alive. She'd moved along alright, the tough girl that she was. Howard and friends had been helpful through the first few years. And yet here she was, sitting in her office, more distressed than she'd been in years. She didn't know why she was so hurt, only that all her feelings and memories about Steve were flooding back to her.

"Miss Carter?"

Peggy took a breath, picking up a folder to fake that she was being productive. "Director Carter," she corrected.

There was a moment of silence, the man who'd just opened the door said nothing. Peggy was turned away from him, unable to identify who he was based simply on his voice. She started to turn every so slightly when the man spoke again.

"I need to see your files on Captain Rodgers."

The man turned on her radio. Music filled the office. She turned all the way around, and relief spread over her. Relief, disbelief… but happiness. She was shocked, then smiled, but still confusion overtook her.

"Steve."

"Director Carter, I hear."

"You're late," she smiles, getting up from her desk chair.

"So I'm told."

Peggy moved slowly towards Steve, a bit uneasy.

"Where've you been?"

"Many places… I'm sorry."

"You should be."

"Peggy, I woke up seventy years after the plane crash, in the next century, and…" The two embraced, sharing a deep, passionate kiss. Peggy pulled away, still in disbelief that her long-lost love had returned to her. "What's wrong?"

Peggy tried to find the words. "Steve, I…"

"I know. It's been a long time. For both of us." Steve leaned in, and Peggy clutched onto him, digging her face into him. She moved her head so she faced the side.

"Five years, Steve. I founded SHIELD, we defeated the Nazis, we demolished Hydra…"

"I know, Peggy. I read up on you."

She smiled, "You really did?"

"How could I forget about my best girl?"

She was flattered, a sweet smile on her face as they swayed to the music. Her eyes were closed. Peggy was lost in the music, in the warm embrace of the man she loved, reunited at last after having been separated for what felt like eternity. She'd thought Steve to be dead, five minutes ago. And hell was she wrong.

"Steve, what happened in that plane crash?"

"I don't want to talk about that right now. Let's focus on now, not the past."

"Okay," Peggy looked down, before sighing and once more getting lost in the moment. Captain America, why did you ever have to steal my heart? She took a deep breath. This brief moment would forever be remembered in her mind.

Never thought that you would be

standing here so close to me

there's so much I feel that I should say

but words can wait until some other day

Kiss me once, then kiss me twice

Then kiss me once again

It's been a long, long time

Haven't felt like this, my dear

Since I can't remember when

It's been a long, long time

You'll never know how many dreams

I've dreamed about you

Or just how empty they all seemed without you

So kiss me once, then kiss me twice

Then kiss me once again

It's been a long, long time

Ah, kiss me once, then kiss me twice

Then kiss me once again

It's been a long time

Haven't felt like this my dear

Since I can't remember when

It's been a long, long time

You'll never know how many dreams

I dreamed about you

Or just how empty they all seemed without you

So kiss me once then kiss me twice

Then kiss me once again

It's been a long, long time

Long, long time.


"I'm going to freaking kill myself if class doesn't get out soon…" I drummed my fingers against my notebook. Our teacher weaved between the desks, making sure we were all at work. I was tempted to pull out my phone, but my smarter self warned that I'd get in major trouble. Screw this, I mumbled, and pulled my phone from my backpack. I held it low, opening Instagram. I scrolled through the posts, and the next thing I knew, my teacher towered over me.

"Jo Rodgers, what do you think you're doing?" his voice was deep, his sunken-in eyes staring me down.

"I've finished my homework, Mr. Connor," I had an innocent smile on my face, "don't I deserve some free time?"

"Jo, you know the rules. Hand it over, and I'll be seeing you to the Principal's office. This is the third time, miss Rodgers, and I cannot allow it to happen again."

The normal gossipy gasps were the least of my concerns, I was furious with Mr. Connor. He let basically everyone but me go on their phone and text away. Maybe it was because I was an orphan. A lot of people didn't like me because of my lack of parents and a stable home. They thought I was weird, but I didn't think so. My friends said I was easily the most pretty girl in the school, with dark hair and curls. I did my work, and I was very good at it. But, I could never get away with anything. God knows why.

"Please don't do this, Mr. Connor, I seriously meant no harm…"

"You went on your phone."

"Yeah?"

"That is against the rules, therefore you are breaking them which is technically harm." He articulated technically, and I rolled my eyes in annoyance.

"The rules will forever be a pain in my arse, Mr. Connor."

"Duly noted, Miss Jo."

I began packing my work away, Mr. Connor watching me with my every move. I hated him, and everyone in this class. They deserved every piece of hatred they received for how rude they always were to me. I'm so done with this school, can summer come any slower? Three days. That's all I had to get through. So why the hell was Mr. Connor still caring about my phone? Although I had strong beliefs, I didn't carry through with it. He was pissed enough, and I was packed already.

I got up and out of my seat, and awaited the order to head to the office. Mr. Connor raised an eyebrow.

"Chelsea?" he looked over to the over-achieving blonde in the corner, "watch over the class while I take Jo to the Office." Chelsea grinned, and I could see the untrustworthy glimmer in her eye as she giggled to her friends. I rolled my eyes, and we walked out of the classroom, headed towards the office.

"Miss Rodgers, in trouble again?"

"No thanks to this bloke."

"Aren't you just a British ray of sunshine, Rodgers? Now, take a seat," our principal had her hands folded neatly, a clean pad of paper to her left. I swear she had OCD. "Do you find the rules important, Jo?"

"It's all relative," I shrugged, "are rules important when you're home alone?"

"Yes," the principal said, "they are. Miss Rodgers, rules are always important, no matter where you are." I leaned back in my chair.

"Are they really?"

"Yes." She was practically fuming. Mr. Connor loomed behind me. "Jo, you've broken the rules multiple times. I know this is your first year in America, but you must learn to respect us."

"I do," I quickly said, almost instinctively. "I have the highest respect for you."

"Sure you do," the principal wrote something down on her paper. "But not for the rules, nor Mr. Connor."

"Mr. Connor is the rudest, most despicable teacher at this school!" I couldn't help but burst out all of my hatred. Ms. Jackson (the Principal) deserved the truth. "He treats me like scum, and he doesn't bloody care about anyone except for his 'prodigies!'"

"Jo, please," Ms. Jackson nervously glanced at Mr. Connor. "Take a deep breath and calm down."

"I'm sorry," I crossed my arms, frowning. "I just feel like I'm not receiving the respect I deserve." Mr. Connor moved behind Ms. Jackson's desk, rolling his eyes.

"Insolent girl," he muttered.

"Jo, we've called your foster parents and they are seriously considering sending you to a different high school next year."

"Oh great, I'm going to be back into an identical pool…"

"But, we're thinking of discussing something with your foster parents. We want to propose that you move back to the UK."

"Oh." If I moved back to the UK, I'd get a different foster family. I'd have to meet new people, have a new start. That wasn't necessarily a blessing, but at least it wasn't hellsome. But it wasn't what I wanted. All I needed was a stable life that didn't change at the turn of the hour, and I'd be as happy as ever. Sometimes too much change can really hurt a person. I knew for a fact that it'd hurt me. "Don't make me go back."

"We won't make you, but we'd highly suggest it. You don't fit in here, and you know that. Do you have any friends, Miss Rodgers?"

"One or two."

"Exactly. Most students here have at least five. We are not a school for loners, Jo. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Ms. Jackson," I replied, "though I would not categorize myself as a loner. I don't think being unable to find welcoming friends is a category of a loner. My lack of friends is completely involuntary."

"Are you sure they aren't being driven away?"

"I hope not."

"Jo! Oh Jo, what are we going to do with you?" one of my foster moms, Stephanie, had a teasing tone to her voice. Stephanie and Carolyn were the cutest lesbian couple in New York. They'd taken me in when my old foster parents from across the sea did not want me. I had always wanted to go to New York, and it was arranged. Stephanie and Carolyn were the most supportive foster parents I could ask for. Stephanie's sarcastic jokes yet big heart were what I needed on rainy days, and Carolyn's adventurous, experienced self helped me make difficult decisions (and solve my homework in maths).

"Stephanie, Carolyn!" Sudden relief hit me, backup and emotional support was here.

"Geez Rodgers, stop making us come here." Carolyn had a headband over her dark hair, which was cut short in a trendy way with stubby curls. She and Stephanie were both in their early thirties and were easily more fashionable than the American idiots at my school. Stephanie wore a dramatically brimmed sunhat, and a sundress.

"Thank you for joining us, ladies," Ms. Jackson frowned, "we need to discuss Jo's behavior. I'd like you to know, she's kind to many folk at this school, but has no respect for her teachers. She also has received Honor Roll all three quarters previous to this. But looking at her grades, I'm sure she will." Carolyn had a grin. "But that is not first priority for today's discussion."

I rustled in my seat.

"Jo has her reasons," was what Stephanie replied with. I was thankful to have such good support. "She is far more civilized than any of the other freshman hooligans."

"Yet she can't seem to follow the rules, it's a pity." Mr. Connor fixed his glasses. "I suggest she goes to boarding school in Britain, back where she belongs."

"Ralph, that's a bit extreme," Ms. Jackson seemed shocked. "We were just going to suggest that she transfer to another high school next year."

"Well, we wouldn't ever make Jo go back to Britain if she didn't want to," Carolyn seemed concerned, leaning forward in her chair. "She's moved around enough."

"Then we at least suggest transferring her to a private school," Ms. Jackson seemed to not budge on this idea. Damn.

"I'm doing fine here," I argued. I wasn't picky. I didn't need five million friends. I needed a good education, at least one or two friends, and a goal for myself. This school provided all of that for me.

"Jo, your grades aren't always the most important thing," Stephanie argued, in obvious favor of the Principal's proposal. Funny how opinions can change so drastically in a short time.

"I like this school, I like my friends, and I just don't want things to change," I said every word strongly, until the end when my voice faltered. Stephanie's gaze softened, the side of her lips curved in empathy.

"Are you really so sure, Jo?"

"Yes." That was all I needed to say. Stephanie and Carolyn checked me out of school, and we drove home in their car, no one saying a word. My phone was tucked away in my backpack, my eyes looking out the window at the city. I hated getting in trouble.

I'd never been a troublesome child. In fact, I was a sucker for the rules. Until I was shipped over to the US, and had to face the inevitable- public American High School.

The rules were very flexible in every class but Mr. Connor's. I swore that he hated me from day one. He always saw me as a stuck up Brit who thought she was too good for the Americans. But I was jealous of the Americans, most of which had stable homes. I constantly lived with different people, in different houses, in different neighborhoods, in different cities, even in a different country. I guessed not many of them had to go through that.

So each trimester, Mr. Connor would confiscate my phone once. And that was the third strike. In most cases, three strikes, you're out. That's what the Principal had come to do, she was tired of Mr. Connor sending me up.

The New York streets were-

BANG!

Red hair. And a red leather suit. It didn't take me long to recognize her. It was Scarlet Witch. And Carolyn had driven us right into a battle between the Avengers and who knows what.