One-shot - set after the Russia mission

Peggy went to join Agents Ramirez and Thompson for that bourbon after they returned from Russia and had been debriefed by Chief Dooley; there was a small spring in her step at being included in the invitation, seeing it as a sign of growing respect. Sousa declined to join them, and so Thompson lead the way to a small bar a few blocks from their office, one that he had apparently been to before since the barkeep nodded familiarly at him, and held the door for both Peggy and Ramirez.

The bar was reasonably busy, what with it being a Friday night, but they were able to a table in one corner and Ramirez went to get the first round of drinks. They drank to Agent Li, who had died in action over in Russia, and then slipped into conversation. There was a distinct under-current of awkwardness between them: Peggy may have earned a portion of their respect with her competence on the mission, but she was still a woman and she got the impression that they were censoring their conversation topics due to her presence – as if she hadn't heard all of it and worse before while serving with the Howling Commando's.

Ramirez excused himself after the first drink, wanting to head home to his wife and children. He gathered his hat and his jacket and then nodded respectfully at them both before leaving Jack and Peggy alone in the bar.

There was silence for several long minutes.

Peggy couldn't help but feel that things were different between them now – he had seen her in action, seen the level of respect that the Howling Commando's gave her, and in turn he had opened up to her, telling her his shameful secret about the medal he had won. Yes, things were definitely different: they were certainly not friends, but the term co-worker or acquaintance (enemy, even) no longer seemed to reply.

Thompson roused himself from whatever train of thought had descended upon him in their silence and offered to go and get them another drink – Ramirez had bought the first round, so he still owed her that bourbon, he argued. Peggy had smiled and he left her to go up to the bar.

While he was gone another man approached her – young, handsome, dressed in a nice suit and tie – and politely asked her if the man she was with, meaning Thompson, was her boyfriend. When she replied with a negative he offered to buy her a drink and invited her to sit at his table with him. Uninterested, she gently refused and the man nodded his understanding.

Jack returned with two neat bourbons, doubles, she noticed, just as the man was leaving. He scowled deeply at him. "What did he want?" he asked Peggy, their fingers just brushing as he passed her the drink.

She shrugged one shoulder. "He offered to buy me a drink," she explained simply as he sat back down.

Thompson looked vaguely annoyed at the idea, and then a slow, lazy smile spread over his face. "Got you eye on someone else then, Carter?" he asked, realising that she must have refused the man.

Peggy took a sip of her bourbon, savouring the familiar burn in her mouth. "Believe it or not, not all women's lives revolve around finding a husband," she told him pointedly – though at the same time she was smiling, enjoying calling him out on his assumption.

"You and Sousa are pretty friendly," Jack said, slouched in his chair and absently swirling his drink around the glass, clearly fishing for information.

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I swear, the men at the SSR are worse gossips than the girls at my hotel," she retorted with a hint of derision in her voice, taking another sip of her drink. She did not like discussing her love-life, or lack thereof, with anyone, not with Angie, not with any of the other girls from the Griffith, and certainly not with Agent Jack Thompson.

There was another brief silence. Thompson tapped his fingers repeatedly on the armrest of his chair. "So you're not into Sousa then?"

Peggy put her unfinished drink down on the table and picked up her jacket. "If you have nothing better to discuss than my love-life, I will be calling it a night," she told him in a tone that brooked no argument, unwilling to have this discussion.

Giving her a faintly mocking smile, Thompson spread his hands slightly, one of them holding his bourbon, as if to say 'be my guest.'

And so she left, politely nodding her goodnight to him and weaving her way out of the bar. Night had fallen outside though it was still about two hours until her curfew at the Griffith – the previous day, before leaving for Russia, she'd had to phone Mrs Fry and tell her that she was unexpectedly leaving the city for the night, knowing it was to be a night-drop that they were doing in Lithuania. The woman had sniffed disapprovingly, demanded to know the precise address of Peggy's so-called 'sick relative' and then primly thanked her for informing her of her absence.

Peggy was standing on the curb waiting for a cab when Jack came out to join her, holding his jacket and hat in one hand. She glanced questioningly at him and he shrugged in response. "You may be a damn good fighter and able to take on dozens of armed Reds single handedly, but what kind of gentleman would I be if I didn't get you a cab?" he said, a wry note of something that sounded almost like respect in his voice.

She hid a smile and didn't reply.

There was another brief silence and Jack slowly pulled on his suit jacket, one arm at a time. "So if you're not into Sousa, and you haven't got your eye on anyone else, I can only surmise that you're still pining over a lost love," he said - his tone was musing and unaggressive, but her history was well known and it was a loaded statement if she had ever heard one.

"I suggest that you stop talking, Thompson," she said bluntly, her anger rising once more. She refused to look in his direction, staring instead down the road trying to spot a cab.

He seemed undaunted by her tone. "You know, I'm surprised that a girl like you would be so cut up about a guy that basically left her," he said, standing with one hand in his pocket, the other holding his hat.

Peggy was almost trembling in rage by this point, unable to believe that he would dare bring up Steve when she'd made it perfectly clear that she did not want to talk about this. "I would not call dying in action, sacrificing himself to save millions of lives 'leaving me,'" she snapped, utterly furious that he had managed to draw her into having this conversation, furious at him for his callous words.

Thompson pressed his lips together briefly. "We all know the story, Carter, how that plane went down over the Arctic circle," he said plainly, simply stating facts. He was not looking at her, also staring down the road; headlights had appeared at the end of the block, the yellow light atop of the car identifying it as an empty cab. "Now I'm not denying that what Rogers did was noble and honourable – hell, from what I heard that plane was carrying enough explosives to wipe out the entire Eastern-seaboard," he said, stepping to the very edge of the curb and holding his arm up to get the approaching cabbies attention. "But if you were my girl, and I was in his place … I would say bollocks to the risk and damn-well try to find a safe landing site."

The cab pulled up beside them and Peggy was standing stock-still, her breaths coming quickly as Thompson opened the car door for her. He met her eyes over the top of the cab door for the first time since joining her outside, his mouth set into a narrow, serious line. "… But I guess I'm just selfish like that," he finished with a slight shrug, still pointedly holding the car door open.

Peggy wordlessly stepped up to the cab, her hand resting lightly on the yellow frame of the door, but didn't get in – she was staring at him, trying to find any trace of insincerity, trying to figure out if this was intended as a declaration of sorts.

During some of her lonely, bitterest nights she had cursed Steve's rigid morals and sense of duty, remembering how he had picked the safest and most certain way to save all of those countless lives, how he hadn't even stopped to consider any other options when she had tried to get Howard on the line or find some other way to ground the plane.

She knew that she was selfish for those thoughts – and now, with Jack Thompson standing in front of her, she didn't think she had ever felt so wrong-footed in all her life.

Thompson's chin was lowered as he put his hat on his head. He nodded once at her as she stood beside the open cab. "See you at work, Carter," he said simply, and then turned to walk down the road with his hands in his pockets.

Cannot WAIT for the next episode - leave a review, my lovelies :)