Back to You [An Endgame Continuation]

Broken Promises

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p.o.v: Peggy

I finished writing down the formula as I held the phone between my shoulder and my ear. "Alright," I said into the speaker. "Is that all of it?"

"Yep," the voice responded, and I heard him shuffling around on the other line. "That should help."

I looked at the complicated probability problem I had scribbled onto the paper. "It better. If not, I don't see any other way I can—"

"Come on, don't be doubting yourself, Peggy," he corrected. "Every time I did I always regretted it."

"I don't remember you ever regretting anything," I said smoothly as I shut the file and leaned back into the couch, feeling the fireplace radiate heat across my tired limbs. I looked around the penthouse that was dark save for the amber firelight and the nighttime ambience from the city that shone in through the glass windows occupying two sides of the vast living room. "How are you doing," I asked Howard as I twirled the phone cable between my fingers.

He sighed. "Well, after I heard about what happened to Steve last night, I feel like I'm being followed everywhere I go." The end of his words were mixed with an anxious laugh. "It almost makes me want to come up there and stay with you guys for a bit."

I chuckled as I looked into the fire. "Yeah, you probably shouldn't."

"Why not?" Howard inclined, and I could almost hear him smirking. "Would I be walking in on something?"

My silence would've been innocent had it not dragged on for an extra moment. "No," I finally quipped. "We're just— really busy at the moment. Tracking bullets, solving codes." I swallowed and found my throat was dry. "We don't have time for... any of that."

Howard tried to stifle his laugh, although his slyness still came through. "I bet the most intimate thing Steve's ever done with someone was use their tooth brush."

"Howard—"

"On accident too."

"Stop it," I scolded. "Not everyone is like you, with your one night stands and fake phone numbers you leave behind." I frowned, my voice softening as I stared into the fire. "Besides, it's probably not even on his mind."

"That's where you're wrong, sweetheart," Howard remarked in a high-pitched tone, and after a moment his voice swung down into his low flirtatious octave. "With us— it's always on our minds."

I heard a distant ping from an elevator, and I looked over to the other side of the room to see Steve stepping out from the bright-lit elevator shaft, tossing his wallet and keys down on the kitchen counter beside him.

"Hold on, he's here," I whispered into the speaker as I looked away from Steve. I leaned towards the phone dock at the end of the couch. "I have to go."

"Be careful out there," he reminded me, concern bleeding into his sarcasm.

My mouth twitched. "You too." I returned the phone to the dock with an exhale, taking a second to reorganize my thoughts.

"Who was that?" I heard distantly, and I looked up to see Steve walking towards me, a crinkled brown bag labeled "McCready's" in his hand.