quick disclaimer: (s/n) is for similar name

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"And now it's time for 'The Captain America Adventure Program', brought to you by Roxxon motor oil." a masculine voice spoke through the radio at the L&L Automat. "Tonight's thrilling tale takes us deep into the heart of the Ardennes Forest, where Hitler's Nazi guard have ambushed the 107th Infantry and taken (S/N) Lewitt, the battalion's beautiful triage nurse. . .as their hostage."

(Y/N) scoffed under her breath and stared down at the counter where her arms were resting. She did her best to block the obnoxious sound of the program on the radio, but it was too loud for her own liking. She even internally winced when the feminine voice rang through her ears.

"You lousy krauts are in big trouble once Captain America gets here."

"When I'm through with you, Hitler, you're gonna be seeing stars and stripes!"

"Nein!" A third voice jumped in, this time impersonating a horrible German accent. "You will bow down to the führer!"

(Y/N) couldn't bare to hear it for another minute. "Angie, would you turn that off, if it's no bother?"

Those programs bothered her to no end. They took advantage of Steve's success and popularity as Captain America and transformed what were once acts of bravery in the field into fictionalized, childish tales. Of course, the foolery didn't end there. Before the program was introduced, there were the comics, which were the beginning of the forming snowball. It wasn't even better when she heard the parodic version of her name on the radio for the first time, nearly causing a car crash after hearing it while she was driving. Her entire devotion as a soldier and a member of Steve's personal battle squad was reduced to a simple 'damsel in distress'.

Angie placed the coffee pot down on the counter at her request and extended her hand toward the radio. "Oh, you bet. Arlene French beat me out for that part."

She cleared her throat and changed the station to one that played a classical jazz tune. The tension on (Y/N)'s shoulders dropped, tired of having her ears stuffed with that nonsense. It only gave the men in the office more justification at treating her poorly.

"'You lousy krauts are in big trouble once Captain America gets here'," Angie repeated the phrase from the radio. "It's better, right?"

"Thrillingly realistic," Peggy commented with a sense of hidden sarcasm.

"Where's your award?" (Y/N) teased with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

Angie smiled at their words but her eyes trailed down at the pencil traced circles around the columns of Peggy's newspaper. "You moving?"

"I, uh, lost my roommate."

"My first place, I lived with this girl from Queens." Angie leaned down on the counter and lowered her voice. "It was okay for maybe six months, and then, bam! One day, she's engaged. Next day, she's married and living in Armonk."

"Gosh! You think you know people."

Angie grabbed the newspaper from the counter and read out loud the options Peggy had already circled down. "'Cozy studio apartment'. That means it's a broom closet. 'Convenient to public transportation'. You'll be living under the Third Avenue el."

"What would you suggest?"

"Girl down the hall from me just moved out. Couldn't hack it, I guess." she answered Peggy with a suppressed smile. "She was always crying to her mother on the hall phone."

"Oh, poor thing."

"Yeah, maybe the first couple times. Anyway, it's over on 63rd. It's real safe, lots of great girls. Plus, I'd be your neighbor, so that's not nothing."

"It's a lovely idea, but I'd hate for you to grow tired of me," Peggy didn't meet her eyes.

"You don't strike me as the crying on the hall phone type, English."

"I appreciate it, truly, but, um. . ." (Y/N) could tell Peggy was running out of excuses.

She saw her trail her eyes down to the newspaper again, although this time in another section of it — the obituaries. She didn't have to read her mind to know who she was thinking about specifically, and she couldn't help but feel bad for her friend. (Y/N) had firstly thought about offering Peggy to stay with her, but she quickly took notice of the appearance of her apartment and figured it wouldn't be a nice offer. The door frames and the window sills were barely holding on together, and (Y/N) couldn't drag her friend out into a home like that. It wouldn't be fair.

"I'm actually on my way to see an apartment now," Peggy's voice knocked her out of her thoughts.

"At this hour?"Angie raised her eyebrows. "You sure you're reading the right kind of want ads?"

"It comes recommended through a friend."

"If you say so," the dirty blonde replied and her eyes fell onto (Y/N). "Make sure she doesn't do anything stupid, Brooklyn."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

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Just like Peggy had told Angie, they went to see a new apartment right after leaving the automat. What she failed to mention was that it was one of Howard Stark's many homes, located at the top of the most luxurious buildings in the entire city. Mr. Jarvis guided them through the entire residence and pointed out several details along the way, something that (Y/N) didn't quite pay attention to after being too busy ogling at every painting she came across in.

She felt out of place, to say the least. All her life she had been accustomed to live and grow up in the most remote or dirtiest of places, so this was a huge change of scenery.

"You presumably already noticed the North German Renaissance influences, but the layout is decidedly French," Mr. Jarvis continued talking as he rounded a corner to another long hallway. "Fresh fruit and scones served every morning."

"Ooh!"

He gestured toward a lonely table with what he had described displayed on top. (Y/N) didn't waste the opportunity and reached out to grab a scone of her own and her favorite fruit from the bunch, Peggy not too far behind.

"The chef likes a challenge, so you may order anything you like."

Peggy ran to catch up with him, since he had continued walking while they grabbed the treats. "I can't stay."

"Mr. Stark insisted."

"He also wants us to clear his name on multiple charges of treason. If anyone finds out I'm living in his house, we'll both be fitted for the noose."

(Y/N) nodded along to Peggy's statement, although she didn't want to admit that she was slightly curious about how it was to live in a home like this. To wake up every day and have someone bring you breakfast to bed, no leaks in the pipes of any kind and no loud neighbors arguing in the middle of the night. She could only dream of experiencing that.

"Well, if it puts you at your ease, this isn't one of his primary residences." Mr. Jarvis explained. "Mr. Stark uses this more for. . .prívate entertaining."

"It's too risky," Peggy spoke with a muffled voice due to the scone she had stuffed in her mouth.

"Well, if you're certain you wouldn't like to see the master bedrooms."

(Y/N) perked up at the sound of that and even Peggy, who stopped chewing on her scone because of this. They allowed Mr. Jarvis to guide them over to the master bedroom like he had earlier described, and the sight of it was pretty much out of a fairytale or a Hollywood movie scene. She figured Howard wouldn't settle for less and decorated the room with the most detailed furniture she had ever set eyes on.

The bed placed against the farthest wall in the room had four wooden posts on each end, adding on to the fantasy bedroom. The lights were dim, illuminating enough to brighten the room when the sun was down and they radiated a sense of warmth. The duvet was inviting, almost challenging (Y/N) to lay down comfortably on it. She resisted everything in her willpower to do it.

"Oh!" Peggy dragged her words out when she caught a glimpse of the bed.

"Russian sable, custom-made."

"Oh!"

She didn't care who saw her and jumped on top of the bed, a sigh of relaxation leaving her lips while doing so. Her arms folded underneath her and she rested her chin against them to look up at the other two companions that followed her into the room.

"Perhaps one night," she muttered, savoring the sensation of the bed under her body.

(Y/N)'s entire body grew rigid as if it was inviting her to lay down on the bed as well. "You know what, Peg, I think this calls for a sleepover."

"Mm-hmm."

"Pretty please?"

"Oh, all right."

"Splendid," Mr. Jarvis exclaimed after hearing the interaction. "Regarding our other matter, I checked through Mr. Stark's files but found no mention of Leviathan."

(Y/N) leaned her weight against one of the bedposts. "Nothing in the SSR files, either."

"What about the two gentlemen with the unusual. . .?" He pointed toward his throat.

"New York hospitals have no record of laryngotomy patients fitting those descriptions within the last three years. I think those quiet men are from out of town," Peggy talked with her stomach laying on the bed. "So, we've got two foreign agents with no voice boxes fighting over a milk truck full of experimental implosives."

"Just another day at the office," Mr. Jarvis playfully added.

"Oh, I wish," Peggy rolled off the bed, quite hesitantly. "The Daisy Clover Dairy opens at 5:00. We need to find that milk truck."

Peggy stood up from the duvet and rounded the whole bed to inspection the rest of the room.

"I'll be standing by with a car at 10 to," Mr. Jarvis puffed his chest with determination.

"You've nearly been killed once, Mr. Jarvis. Others have been less fortunate. I think it's best we should carry on by ourselves."

Peggy let out an exclaim of surprise when she opened the closet and pulled out a revealing lingerie set hooked on a hanger. She placed it against her body with raised eyebrows, looking at Mr. Jarvis for an explanation.

"On occasion, Mr. Stark enjoys adding a theatrical element to his romantic endeavors."

(Y/N) mentally shuddered at that. "I did not need to know that."

"Is that what he calls it?" Peggy skimmed through the different costumes inside the closet until she found a decent lab coat with a fake stethoscope. "Oh! Yes, this could prove useful."

Mr. Jarvis gave her an uncomfortable look.

"Oh, don't be lewd."

After that, Mr. Jarvis checked the time and decided it was time for him to return home to his wife. Peggy and (Y/N) decided to stay in the Stark residence for at least a night before returning to their usual lives. They decided to walk Mr. Jarvis back to the main entrance of the penthouse before bidding him farewell.

"The maid arrives at 10:00, the florist usually by noon," Mr. Jarvis explained, leading the way back to the door.

"Cancel them both."

"And I shall cancel them both."He crossed the threshold of the penthouse with a firm nod.

Peggy grabbed onto the door, "Good night, Mr. Jarvis."

He didn't allow her to close the door, gripping tightly to the knob on his side. Peggy gave him an incredulous look, quite surprised by his antics.

"I do wish you'd change your minds and allow me to accompany you," he reminded of the previous conversation. "I could be your third pair of eyes."

"Nonsense," (Y/N) shook her head. "It will be a quick in-and-out mission, no need to worry."

"I can't imagine there being much danger at the dairy hub. We're only going to hunt a truck," Peggy concluded. "Whoever drove that truck is a man that needs questioning. Good night."

"And how you plan to find it?"

"I held onto the vita-ray detector from Project Rebirth. It should still pick up a reading from whatever truck was used to transport the nitramene."

Mr. Jarvis gave her another of his stares.

"What?"

"It seems a tad conspicuous to walk into Daisy Clover and halt business to inspect for vita-radiation."

(Y/N) could say that he was right. They had to come up with a believable excuse to peek at different trucks without raising suspicions.

"I can assure you, I have far more tact than you give me credit — Oh! You popped a button."

Mr. Jarvis gasped and turned around, embarrassed. "No."

Peggy took this as an opportunity to close the door behind him. This caught him off guard, the sound of the door closing making him raise his head and give the women an unreadable look through the other side of the glass door.

"Good night, Mr. Jarvis."

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The next morning was operation time. As much as (Y/N) didn't want to say goodbye to the delicate, foreign sheets in the penthouse, she had to at some point. A cab took her and Peggy to the hub, both already in their disguises for the day. Peggy wore the coat she found the night before,  did her hair up and her final touch were a pair of glasses. (Y/N) went the simple way, drawing a believable mole on her chin and wore a wig.

In the diary hub, they passed several men carrying packages of milk glass bottles and other dairy products, stacking them in different trucks or brought them inside the building.

"Excuse me!" Peggy called out when she spotted a man seemingly discussing with another. "Are you the foreman?"

The man stopped talking and looked over at the sound of the voice. "Who's asking?"

"Ruth Barton, this is my assistant Roxie Kelly, City of New York Health Department," Peggy pulled out a fake identification to make the man believe they were telling the truth. "You heard of that?"

"Yes."

"Well, you have not been acting like it. I've had 15 complaints that you are under direct violation of City Health Provision 42, Article 23, i.e., the care and transportation of all milk stuffs."

"Complaints from who?"

"That is confidential, sir," (Y/N) pointed at him with her pen.

"Right now, me." Peggy added after that. "I have a court order to inspect all delivery trucks in this distribution hub. Let's hope I don't find cheese where the milk's supposed to be."

"Now, you gonna help or hinder us?"

"Help?"

"Good answer."

Peggy and (Y/N) pretended to know what they were doing and looking for each time the workers opened a different truck for them to see. The foreman looked quite exhausted of having to follow their orders and have his men unload the trucks just so they could inspect them, but he never said anything. While Peggy discreetly climbed inside the unloaded trucks and used the Vita-Ray calibrator on each one, (Y/N) annotated the plaques without having anyone peer down at what she was writing, since she figured they might come in handy.

After long minutes of inspecting, Peggy pretended to search through her notes in front of the foreman. "There's a truck missing."

"Well, we got a guy out sick the past two days," he explained. "He uses his truck to commute."

"Has he never heard of a bus?" Peggy snapped. "Name and address."

"Sheldon McFee, but I don't got an address."

(Y/N) raised an eyebrow at him. "You don't know your employee's addresses?"

Peggy shook her head. "Leave that to us."

She shared a nod with (Y/N) and they both decided they had the information needed to finish this 'mission'. (Y/N) flashed the man one fake smile as a way to bid farewell, while Peggy angrily kicked at one of the trucks tires.

"And put some air in that tire!"

there's a reason why y/n doesn't move in with peggy and it would be explained later on ;)
oh, and i don't know if you noticed, but there's some foreshadowing in this chapter.

- see you soon, bex <3