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The dim lights illuminated the small warehouse. It was supposed to be a simple trade, which was why (Y/N) didn't understand why Mr. Jarvis was so keen on having someone with him as he made the exchange. Still, she didn't complain and stayed silent throughout the majority of the interaction, nodding along in greeting toward the men and uttering a sentence here and there.

"You'll get your package when we get our money," one of the men said.

Mr. Jarvis opened the briefcase that he had laid on top of the crate and pulled out a stack of green American dollars out of it. He closed the briefcase in one swift move before handing out the stash to one of the men standing across from him, who couldn't believe his eyes when he read the amount on the dollar bills.

"One-grand bills?" he said in bewilderment. He turned to his partner. "You ever even seen these?"

"I can assure you that is legal tender, and far easier to transport than 50,000 singles."

"We'd believe you if we saw an extra 100 of them," the man retorted with an angry tone.

"That was not the agreed-upon amount."

"Mr. Mink does not smuggle goods into this country for free, Mr. Jarvis."

"Now, the inherent value of any commodity or service should really have no effect — "

He was cut off by the sound of the man clicking the safety off his gun. "You were saying?"

(Y/N) felt the gun in her thigh holster grow heavy  as the man pointed his own at Mr. Jarvis. She saw him swallow the lump in his throat before his gaze flickered for a single moment toward her, as if asking her if she was going to jump in or not.

"Fifty thousand dollars," she intervened, her voice not wavering. "That was the agreement."

"Fifty was for the delivery. The extra $100,000 for us to keep our traps shut, sweetheart," the man stated. "And I got three guys outside that agree with me."

Oh, he meant to say the men that Peggy surely already handled outside, obviously not capable of doing anything anymore. (Y/N) crossed her arms and her eyes never left the two men, careful to watch them if they made a single bad move.

"I — I — I'm sorry," Mr. Jarvis stumbled to find the words. "— but I — I — I can't agree to such — Pardon my language. Extortion."

"It's not 'extrorshing'," the man scoffed in offense. "This is a shakedown. You can hand me the money, or he could hand me the money."

"Very well." Mr. Jarvis nodded. He turned around the briefcase for them to open it for themselves. "I have a further $50,000 in here. It's all I have. Take it or leave it."

"Count it."

"Sorry, you're counting the ransom in front of me?" Mr. Jarvis questioned.

"Our boss is a very precise man."

"Your manners never cease to disappoint."

Mr. Jarvis opened the briefcase just as one of the men was leaning down to see what was inside, getting firsthand the wave of toxic smoke that came out of it. Mr. Jarvis and (Y/N) covered their noses since they were expecting this, but the poor man that was exposed to the smoke dropped unconscious on the floor. The other man, the more demanding of the two, didn't seem to get affected by the smoke and raised his gun in the air, but was struck down by the barrel of Peggy's own gun.

"You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Jarvis," Peggy said after the man dropped to the ground.

He shrugged.

With that being set, the three of them took off in search of the 'package' the men so kindly delivered earlier tonight. They walked through the lonely train tracks, careful in not getting spotted by anyone until they found the right train.

"Hopefully our package is intact," Mr. Jarvis commented.

Peggy removed the lock from the boxcar door and slid it open, revealing (Y/N)'s biggest nuisance, Howard Stark himself. He didn't seem at all phased by the noise nor the new company, instead focused on his game of pool right in front of him. It didn't seem like the typical dark, cramped boxcar, instead covered by paintings and comfortable seats all around.

"Ah, my favorite local and foreigners."  Howard removed his eyes from the pool table. "Did Mr. Mink have his minions blackmail you?"

"Indeed, sir," Mr. Jarvis nodded.

"You know how to pick your partners," Peggy told him with her arms crossed.

"Well, Mr. Mink is a greedy black-market smuggler, sure, but he got me back into the country, and he's predictable in his greed," Howard explained, a smirk popping onto his lips. "I like predictable, and I like greedy."

He grabbed one of the pool balls and threw it right over Peggy's shoulder without a fair warning, knocking the man that sneaking up behind them unconscious.

"And I was so close to running the table."

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"So, how are you three getting along?"

Howard was lying down on the back seat of the car as Mr. Jarvis drove them into the city. Even though it was the dead of night, they didn't want to risk getting pulled over or someone recognizing Howard Stark. (Y/N) had the misfortune of sitting in the backseat with him, meanwhile Peggy had the luxury of having a seat in the front with Mr. Jarvis.

"Did the ladies try Anna's goulash?" Howard kept talking. "Peggy, did Jarvis know you can do 107 one-armed pushups? Jarvis! Did you know (Y/N) can flip a 240 pound man over her shoulder?"

Mr. Jarvis did not utter a single word out of his mouth and focused on the road ahead.

Peggy turned around to face Howard, the man laying halfway to the floor of the car to not risk getting caught. "Howard, you came back to New York City risking notice from every American intelligence agency."

He hummed in response.

"Why?"

"Let's get back to my place," Howard diverted the question. "We'll have some sherry. I'll explain everything."

Peggy wasn't satisfied by the answer and returned her attention back to the road ahead of her, spotting something deep in the darkness.

"Stop the car."

Mr. Jarvis did not question her order and stepped on the breaks. (Y/N) saw how Peggy didn't remove her eyes from the front and that's when she recognized the man standing a few feet away on the sidewalk.

"The residence is only a block away," Howard complained.

"What's the matter?" Mr. Jarvis finally asked.

"See that man waiting for the bus? That's Agent Yauch." Peggy stated. Her eyes turned toward a car well hidden in between others. "You see that Sedan parked by the fire hydrant? That is Agent Henry. Make a left."

Mr. Jarvis followed the instructions and turned the car around, hoping that none of those agents managed to see them flee the scene.

"That was my least known property," Howard said with a hint of annoyance in his tone. "A dummy corporation holds the lease."

"And another dummy corporation owns that company," Mr. Jarvis reminded him.

"The only people who know about that penthouse besides me and Jarvis are Lana Turner, Jane Russell — "

"I hope you realize that our colleague was shot to death while you were out jaunting?" (Y/N) cut him off before he could deviate from the subject.

"I was not jaunting."

"The SSR blames you, and they're out for blood," Peggy reminded him. "We must assume they're about to uncover all of your residences, your bank accounts, your corporations. So perhaps turning up unexpectedly was not your best plan."

"So, where can I hide?"

(Y/N) saw the way Mr. Jarvis and Peggy exchanged a knowing look, one she was frustrated she was not a part of. That frustration then transformed into a wave of realization when they both turned to look at her, and she knew immediately what her response would be.

"No."

Peggy was the first one to open her mouth to defend her point, turning around in her seat to fully face (Y/N).

"Are you both insane?" (Y/N) exclaimed. "I'm gonna kill him before the SSR does."

Howard seemed to understand. "Don't be a buzzkill, Dewitt. It'll be fun."

"I'm afraid there is no other option, Miss Dewitt."

"No, absolutely not."

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"Will you shut up and walk?"

She was aware that her tone wasn't the most appropriate to use, especially at this time of night, but it was all she could muster to do as she watched Howard curiously peek through every window as possible.

"Is the elevator out of order too?" he asked as he watched the sign on the elevator doors. He began climbing up the flight of stairs that was used in cases like these.  "Jesus, darling, this is where you live?"

"Some of us can't afford to live in luxurious penthouses like yourself, Stark," she snapped, too tired to deal with his questions. "And if I hear one more complaint out of you, Howard, I'll throw you out the window."

He raised his hands in defense and stayed silent after that. They climbed the rest of the way without any delays ( if you exclude the moment where someone came out of their apartment and she had to push Howard away, which led to him falling down a few set of stairs ) and reached the floor where (Y/N)'s apartment was found. As she rummaged through her purse in search for her keys, another person opened the door to their apartment and stepped outside.

"Oh, my dear, you're back so late."

(Y/N) turned around and was received by the warm presence of Mrs. Rudolph, a senior resident in this building. Her hair was clipped up in hair rollers and wore a robe over her set of pijamas, a worried expression on her face.

"Mrs. Rudolph. Hi," (Y/N) waved awkwardly. "I'm sorry if I woke you up."

"No, don't worry, dear. It was Tuna who kept me up all night, fussing and what not," Mrs. Rudolph waves a dismissive hand. "But I was worried when I didn't see or hear you enter your apartment throughout the day. You work so hard, dear. Especially for a telephone operator."

"It's a demanding job."

Mrs. Rudolph made a disapproving noise in the back of her throat. "You know my husband has been offering you a place at his restaurant ever since we met you. It could be easier for you."

"I always appreciate the offer, Mrs. Rudolph, but I'm afraid I can't accept it," (Y/N)'s lips pressed into a thin line. "I like my job."

"Well, I'll keep asking you until you give in! Or until I die, whichever comes first," Mrs. Rudolph said with a laugh.

She finally seemed to notice the person standing awkwardly silent by (Y/N)'s side, and her eyes turned to him.

"And who's this lovely gentleman?"

Howard was already extending his hand for a handshake and prepared to open his mouth, but (Y/N) cut him off before he could utter a single word of nonsense. "This is my cousin."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "Came over to visit all the way from. . .Alabama."

"Seriously?" Howard muttered under his breath.

"What a coincidence, I'm from Alabama too!"

"You're kidding," Howard whispered once again, a soft groan leaving his lips when (Y/N) elbowed him in the ribs.

Mrs. Rudolph didn't seem to notice. "Which part from Alabama are you from, exactly?"

"You know. . ." Howard tried to think of something. "Around."

Mrs. Rudolph hummed in response but didn't say anything else. (Y/N) was about to excuse her and Howard out of the conversation when she saw how Mrs. Rudolph squinted her eyes, as if she was coming to a realization.

"(Y/N), dear, don't you think your cousin looks a lot like Howard Stark?"

(Y/N) tensed and eyed the man beside her. "My cousin's a lot shorter."

Howard didn't like that comment, since he gave her a dramatically offended look.

"I guess you're right," Mrs. Rudolph answered. "I couldn't tell either way, dear, I'm completely useless without my glasses."

(Y/N) almost let out an audible sigh of relief because of that. She knew it was getting late ( or more late than it already was ) and that she had to get up early in the morning for work, so she didn't want to keep this conversation on for much longer.

"Gee, look at the time!" she cleared her throat and pretended to take a look at her wristwatch. "I better head inside, Mrs. Rudolph, I have work tomorrow."

"Oh, I apologize for keeping you up more than I intended, dear. Good night," Mrs. Rudolph stuffed her hand inside the pockets of her robe. "And good night to your cousin too."

"Good night — "

Howard's words were cut short when (Y/N) pushed him inside the apartment and closed the door behind her. She was relieved at the fact that it was Mrs. Rudolph who had walked outside and not Louis, since she didn't want to imagine how that would've went instead. She set the keys down at her small dining table and shrugged off her coat, turning around to see Howard already inspecting each corner of the small apartment.

She cleared her throat when she saw him getting too close to the picture frames on the walls, trying to distract him from taking a better look. She gestured for him to follow her and he did, leading him into her own bedroom.

"Whoa, you're taking me to your bed? You should've taken me out for dinner first, darling."

(Y/N) gave him the deadliest glare she could muster as she searched through drawers and cabinets. He didn't like the fact that he didn't receive a retort for his comment, and instead sat on the corner of the bed drumming his fingers on his legs. He watched how she moved back and forth between the small room, how the worry lines on her forehead were more evident when she was concentrated on something. He watched how she walked around the bed and knelt down on the floor.

"What are you doing?" he finally asked, curiosity winning over him.

"I'm laying out the bedsheets," she said like it was obvious.

"For what?"

"For you to sleep on them."

Howard made a face mixed with dislike and confusion.

"Oh, I'm sorry, does the princess find the floor too uncomfortable to sleep in?"

"Hey, I'm not a princess," Howard jumped to his own defense.  "I have a bad back."

(Y/N) hummed in response, obviously not buying his excuse. She crossed her arms over her chest defensively, her eyes never leaving his as she waited for him to either give up or give her a better excuse for not sleeping on the floor.

"You can't leave a guest to be uncomfortable in your home," he continued. "It speaks bad etiquette."

"If you're suggesting what I think you're suggesting, absolutely not," she shook her head.

"I'm not sleeping on the floor," he argued. "And there certainly isn't enough room for me to sleep anywhere else but in your bed."

(Y/N) had to give in, even if she didn't particularly this situation. She knew Howard was too stubborn for his own good and wouldn't back down from a decision, and she was simply too tired to argue with him even further. That didn't mean they were going to sleep side by side -- (Y/N) had come up with the great idea to make a wall of pillows in the middle of the bed to divide her space and Howard's, limiting them both.

"You're exaggerating, darling," Howard declared when he saw what she was doing.

"I prefer the term, precautionary," she said as she fluffed the pillows and laid them in the middle of the bed. When she deemed it was ready, she turned back to him. "This line mustn't be crossed or I'm going to kick you off the bed."

⋘ » ☆ « ⋙

When (Y/N) woke up that morning, she was relieved to say she didn't find herself in an unprofessional position with Howard. In fact, the pillow barrier remained intact, but the person on the other side of it wasn't there anymore. With a frown, she stood up from the bed and placed a robe over herself before walking out of the bedroom.

(Y/N) peeked her head outside before fully opening the door and walking out, spotting Howard by the kitchen with his back to her.

"Good morning," she spoke up, alerting him of her presence.

"Good morning, Dewitt."

(Y/N) pulled a chair from the dining table and sat down, her nose finally picking up on a warm, delicious scent that was filling the entire apartment. She frowned in both confusion and astonishment when she realized thats why Howard was standing by the kitchen, and why he didn't as much as turn around to greet her.

"Are you. . .cooking?"

"Your tone wounds me," he said in his usual tone.

"I'm surprised you didn't burn my apartment down," she retorted.

"Well, I knew you were exhausted from last night's events, so I let you sleep," he confessed. "And I was hungry, so, I wanted to cook breakfast."

He recognized the look in her eyes and opened his mouth to explain, "I didn't always have a butler, you know. I'm not completely useless."

"I didn't say that."

"But you were thinking it."

(Y/N) sighed. She didn't like the uncomfortable silence building between them, so she decided to change the subject. "So, are you gonna serve the food or not?"

Howard blinked out of his daze and nodded, turning around to rummage through the drawers in search for cutlery and clean dishes. (Y/N) didn't like the noise he was making by searching through the cabinets and the slamming of doors, but he was too distracted to hear her complaint.

He finally turned back around. "You only have one fork?"

"I'm one person," she defended.

"That is so weird of you, Dewitt," he told her.

She scoffed with a shake of her head. "You're the first person that isn't me to come here."

"For your next birthday, I'll buy you a set of cutlery."

That made her laugh out loud, especially at the ridiculousness of it. She was pretty sure that he didn't even remember when her birthday was.

"I'm serious."

"Whatever lets you sleep at night, Howard."

"Speaking of which," Howard seemed rather excited over that topic being brought up. "I slept really good last night."

"That makes one of us," (Y/N) flashed him a grin.

"Oh, you can't lie to me," he shook his finger. "You were pretty much crossing over the pillow border when I woke up."

(Y/N) felt the heat rising to her cheeks out of embarrassment. "Shut up and eat, Stark."

"Can't. I don't have a fork."

She huffed and leaned back on her chair. She hadn't taken a single bite out of the breakfast he had made for both of them, so she handed him the fork and stood up to fix herself some coffee. Luckily for her, she had more than one cup, so she was able to serve both of them a cup.

"I haven't stopped looking, you know."

(Y/N) lifted her head from the coffee pot. "What do you mean?"

She saw Howard staring at something far ahead and she followed his line of sight, tensing when she recognized the photograph he was looking at. It was one of the where she stood in between Steve and Bucky, smiles plastered on their faces, completely oblivious to the tragedy that would struck them in a future. As fast as she saw the picture, she adverted her gaze to a different part of the apartment.

"Oh." she finally registered his words and sighed."Listen, Howard, I know you mean well, but. . .I already gave up on it, you should too."

"Are you kidding me?" he turned to look at her incredulously. "I am so close."

"I figure you have more important things to prioritize, like, I don't know, the entire American government trying to arrest you?"

"That's nothing compared to him, and you know it."

(Y/N)'s eyes fell on the floor at those words. She stayed there, admiring the tiles on it — well, the cracked tiles — as she tried of thinking of a remark to say to that, but couldn't think of anything. She took a sip from the coffee before setting it on the kitchen counter.

"I'm late for work."

"You didn't even eat — "

(Y/N) didn't hear him as she walked back into her room and closed the door, shutting herself off from Howard. The man, still sat at the dinner table, lost interest in his plate and instead glued his eyes on the bedroom door for whenever she would come out of it. He wasn't a patient man, to say the least, but he wasn't going to match up to her door and demand for her to open it.

Just as he was in the brink of losing it and knocking on the door after not hearing a single sound from her, the door swung open. (Y/N) stepped outside with a face full of urgency, one that someone wore when they are getting ready for work. She was dressed in completely different attire than the one he had seen her yesterday, and she was too distracted in adjusting her sleeves than to notice Howard.

"You can't leave the guest by themselves, (Y/N). Again, it's bad etiquette — "

"I'm in a hurry, Howard," she told him. "Say what you have to say, and it better include when you're leaving my apartment."

"I'm bound for Rio in three days," he explained, his shoulders dropping. "Before I depart, I need to know which of my inventions you've recovered."

"Why?"

"Well, if I know what the SSR has obtained, I can determine how many are still in the black market."

"But why did you come back?" she questioned, thinking the whole situation was sketchy.  "Why isn't Mr. Jarvis the one telling me this?"

"Because Jarvis doesn't have one of these."

Howard pulled a pen out of his pocket and (Y/N) approached him to see what it was from up close. He held it out in front of them and she frowned when she didn't know what she was looking at. Just as she was about to comment on it, she heard the faint sound of a camera clicking.

"A camera pen?"

"'A camera pen?'" Howard copied her non enthusiastic tone.  "I was expecting a little more enthusiasm. Any idea how long it took me to figure out lens miniaturization?"

⋘  » ☆ « ⋙

It was a miracle that (Y/N) made it to work in time, especially after she told Howard not to open the door to anyone if someone knocked. Peggy was rather curious at what had happened the night before, but wasn't able to squeeze that much details out of her.

Today seemed to be a slow day, or that's what (Y/N) noticed when she first stepped into the office. Apparently, Chief Dooley hadn't come in yet, and so everyone was focused on their own thing. She sat by her desk, toying with the camera pen Howard had given her in the morning, trying not to act impressed at the fact that he created something like this.

"Gather around," Thompson's loud voice rang through the precinct. "Okay, who here knows what Ray Krzeminski's middle name was?"

"Walter," Sousa answered.

"That's right. Walter," Thompson nodded at his colleague.  "Ray Walter Krzeminski. And who knows what the most important part of Agent Ray Walter Krzeminski's name was?"

"W-Walter?" a man raised his hand.

"No. 'Agent'. Just like all of us," Thompson's cold stare was enough to make the man shrink away. "Now, Chief Dooley's gone to break a lead in the Stark case. And while he's gone, I'm in charge. And while I'm in charge, none of you will be resting. So pick up your phones, make kissy noises to your wives, because we're not going home until we start cracking heads."

"And if you get tired, remember how important your names are. Agents." he continued, his harsh tone never wavering.  "Now, form a single-file up to my office, and I'll give you your individual assignments. Come on."

Everyone did as he instructed and lined up, but neither did (Y/N) or Peggy did any effort to make part of the line.

Sousa caught this and grabbed his crutch before walking toward them. "Not eager to see what job Commandant Thompson has in store for you?"

"You mean the lunch order?" Peggy asked.

(Y/N)'s eyes followed Sousa as he grabbed his coat and hat from the rack. "Where are you going?"

"The anonymous call that led to the Stark weapons," he answered. "I'm gonna see if I can pull a print off the phone that rang it in."

"It was a public phone," Peggy tried to make him second guess on what he was doing. "The only thing you'll pull is a bacterial infection."

Before he could respond, Thompson walked out of his office. "Hey, Sousa, where do you think you're going?"

"To do some real police work, o' man of action."

"Hey, Sousa, you know, now that Krzeminski's dead, that makes you our biggest yo-yo," he said to him before he clapped his hands. "(Y/N), Marge, start taking the lunch orders."

Peggy turned to Sousa with a 'told you so' look before watching him walk away. (Y/N) knew there was no other option than following Thompson's order, especially since she wasn't in the mood to receive his wrath after this morning's events. While Peggy decided to take the orders from the men in the precinct, (Y/N) went after the men inside the lab, which would give her the perfect opportunity to check what Howard told her about earlier.

She entered the lab with careful steps and called out the name of the first man she spotted, "Mr. Doobin."

He had been leaning over an artifact and the sudden voice made him jump up, until he realized who it was. "Ah, Miss Dewitt. That was embarrassing."

"If you'd like to get the lunch orders started, I should be able to pick up all the meals from the lab by noon," she handed him the notepad for him to write the order in. She felt like she was back in her waitress days, and she did not like that at all. She placed her focus on the equipment behind her, "How goes the research on the Stark inventions?"

There was a yell behind Mr. Doobin, one of the men had accidentally caught the sleeve of his lab coat on fire, but not just any fire — this one was peculiarly green.

"Whoa! I got it! I got it!" the other man beside him helped by pressing a towel over the fire, making it die out.

"Ah, it's been a bit of a challenge."

(Y/N) saw this as the perfect opportunity to pull out the camera pen, clicking on it to take pictures.

"Do you see this switch?" Mr. Doobin asked, leaning down to grab the artifact he was toying with when she came in. "Every time that I push this switch, I get a shock that runs right up my arms and into my skull, but do you see any other switch?"

He turned back around and she took as many pictures as she could and also trying to be discreet as possible.

"I do not," she answered.

"Do you remember that, uh, I used to wear glasses?"

She felt terribly bad that she didn't, but nodded nonetheless. "Of course."

"It melted the glasses right off of my face," he informed, holding the melted glasses for her to see. "Now, is that the intended purpose, I don't know. But Howard Stark is either an ignoramus or a genius."

"Most likely both."

the one bed trope 🤭 i'm so funny.

leaving this here because it's been a while since i've done one of these — more from them are yet to come !!

— see you soon, bex <3