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"Someone seems to be in a better mood," were Peggy's first words when she saw (Y/N) approaching her by the corner of their meetup street. It was a noticeable shift in her demeanor, although quite subtle, ever since the last she had seen her, which was yesterday's afternoon.

(Y/N) gave her a look, but it wasn't able to hide the glimmer in her eyes. Her lips were still tingling from the ghost of Louis's lips against hers, and from the brief conversation they'd had in the morning. He had the brilliant idea to make her dinner, calling it a special occasion because it was their official first date. To say she was excited would be an understatement.

"May I ask the reason why?" Peggy pried as they walked side by side on the street.

"Oh, you know, the usual," (Y/N) shrugged with a smile. "There's this new neighbor in my apartment."

"Oh, I see," Peggy eyed her knowingly. "What's his name?"

"Louis."

"Louis. . .?"

(Y/N) frowned when she realized that all this time, she hadn't asked for Louis's last name. She was sure that he didn't even know hers too.

"Now that I think of it, I don't know."

"You've known him for all this time and you don't know his surname?"

"It's been a week at the most," she clarified. "Besides, I'm always running off to God knows where, so we don't have enough time to talk about stuff like that."

"How did you even meet?"

"He was carrying boxes with his belongings until he tripped."

Peggy let out a chuckle. "Isn't he the charmer."

"Hey, he's nice," she defended. "He's honest, and he's sweet. He's nothing like the men we have to deal with everyday."

"That does sound nice."

"Yep," she nodded enthusiastically. "In fact, we have a date tonight."

"Make sure to notice every detail of him," Peggy advised carefully. "That's when they tend to slip up. If he eats without washing his hands, burps in the table or does anything of that sort, leave immediately."

"Louis isn't like that," (Y/N) told her.

"All men have one of those habits," Peggy stated.

"Gross!"

Peggy laughed at her reaction, but it died down when she noticed they were already getting close to the newspaper stand in the street.

"Beautiful morning, huh, ladies?" Pete, the newspaper man, asked with a smile as he handed them both a copy of today's paper. He was a generous man, always having something to say — like today's rainy morning — in order to lighten up the mood. And, in a way, he sort of reminded (Y/N) of her childhood.

"Feels like home," Peggy answered, fetching for coins in her purse to give him.

He accepted both piles of change from the ladies. "Missing England, huh?"

"Well, missing something."

The lighthearted conversation died out by the familiar voice of Mr. Jarvis behind them, "Copy of the Ledger, please."

Pete happily obliged and handed him a copy of the newspaper he had requested. (Y/N) glanced at Peggy to see if she had any interest in talking to Mr. Jarvis, only to find her wearing an irritated look in her eyes.

"Good day, Pete," (Y/N) smiled once more time at the man, who tipped his cap in farewell.

Even though rain was still pouring down into the streets of the city, (Y/N) and Peggy crossed the street with a very impatient Mr. Jarvis trailing behind them. He was carrying an umbrella for himself, but when he had the opportunity to catch up with the women, he gently moved it so it could cover them both.

"I beg only one moment of your time."

"You've had your moment, Mr. Jarvis," Peggy spoke up first. "If you or Howard have anything else to say, you can tell it to the Marines."

"I tried to persuade Mr. Stark to tell you the truth."

"You could have told us yourself."

"Well, given my current situation, I didn't see how that was possible."

"Yes, how could it ever be possible?" (Y/N) asked sarcastically, flickering her gaze from Mr. Jarvis to the floor, careful not to slip. "How could you ever say, 'Howard Stark wants you to steal your best friend's blood'. See? It's possible."

"If only it were that simple — "

"Howard didn't want our help to prove his innocence," Peggy stopped to turn back at Mr. Jarvis in the middle of the sidewalk, where people were passing by paying them no mind. "He wanted a new toy to manipulate, and he was lucky enough to gain two."

"Miss Carter, you must know that Mr. Stark has the greatest admiration — "

"For himself, as it seems," (Y/N) cut him off.

Mr. Jarvis gave her a look, a sigh leaving his lips. "He can be thoughtless, inconsiderate, vain, childish, unreliable, arrogant."

"You flatter him."

"But he is a good man."

"He used us," Peggy reminded him. "He uses you, whether you choose to see it or not."

"He needs your help."

Peggy's tone was on the verge of snapping, her eyes glaring up at him. "What he needs is a servant, and he already has that in you."

With that, she and (Y/N) declared that the conversation was over and turned back around, heels loudly clicking against the pavement despite the rain drowning them out.

"And what does the SSR have in either of you?" Mr. Jarvis called out before they were out of earshot.

(Y/N) let out a scoff before turning around to face him again. "You are speaking to federal agents, Mr. Jarvis."

"Yes. Finely trained and skilled in the art of fetching coffee," a humorless laugh escaped (Y/N)'s lips at his words, tired of hearing the same argument over and over again. "These men you call your colleagues, they don't respect you. They don't even see you. Do you honestly expect they'll change their minds?"

"I expect we will make them."

This time, they turned around and Mr. Jarvis made no effort to chase after them, leaving him in the rain by himself with a defeated look.

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The elevator doors dinged in their typical nature once they hit the floor to the precinct, expecting to hear a noise every now and then, but it was different this time. Even from her position in the hallway, (Y/N) could hear the commotion — cell phones ringing, people hanging off the phones, men running from one corner of the room to the other with a sense of urgency she hadn't seen since the war.

There was a voice faintly yelling in the background, "Billy, I got the White House holding for the chief in line 2."

"Daniel, what's going on?" Peggy questioned once she caught glance of Sousa in the middle of the commotion.

"Sasha Demidov's magic typewriter turned itself on all by itself," Sousa explained as he grabbed his crutch and began walking side by side with them.

"What did the message say?"

"It's encoded."

"We got a cryptographer up from Arlington Hall trying to crack it," Sousa continued as he let them to one of the conference rooms. He opened the door for them. "He, uh, stinks at his job."

There, at the edge of the table, sat the man from Arlington Hall with a pile of notes, textbooks and trashed papers all around him. The Demidov's typewriter was placed on his left side, and a chalkboard was in the corner with a table drawn on it, several words that (Y/N) couldn't make out written on each cell.

"It's clearly not a German cipher, or the Turing method would work."

"What will work, in your estimation?" Chief Dooley asked him. "Huh?"

The man's shaking hands tried opening his book, but Thompson ripped it out from his hold and threw it aside. Chief Dooley was on the other side of him, looking down at the man with intent to intimidate him.

"You already looked through that book ten times," Thompson leaned closer to him.

"I'm gonna take this to Virginia where — "

"You're not taking that anywhere."

The man locked eyes with Thompson, even though it was visible to everyone that he was shaking. "Look, as difficult as it might be for you people to understand, I can't just beat a code into submission or shoot it with a gun."

"Yeah?" Thompson spoke in a low, raspy voice. "That works great with pencil pushers like you."

"May I see it?" Peggy asked, loud enough for her words to cut the conversation short before anything happened.

She grabbed the paper from the typewriter and set it down on the table. "I saw this at Bletchley. It's a one-time pad system."

"You think I didn't try a pad immediately?"

Peggy lifted her head from the message to stare at the man. "Did you account for the original message being written in Russian?"

He didn't respond to that. (Y/N) took a step forward to the table after watching Peggy give her a gesture to do so, probably because the message was in Russian and she knew the language — and because it would make it quicker to crack the code.

"Can you read it?" Chief Dooley questioned, hands on his hips.

"They are map coordinates," Peggy announced, reaching out for a notepad. "Fifty-three degrees, 72 minutes north, twenty-seven degrees, 37 minutes west."

At that same time, Chief Dooley gestured at Sousa to grab one of the books forgotten on the table. He rummaged through the pages of the book in search for the coordinates Peggy had read out.

(Y/N) leaned down to read it for herself, taking the time to process each part.  "'Purchase confirmed. Exchanged at 0800, April 27th.'"

"That's less than two days from now," Thompson eyed the clock on the wall.

Sousa lifted his eyes from the book. "Coordinates are in the Mar'ina Horka Forest in Belarus."

(Y/N) tensed at the next words following in the code, and Peggy noticed this as she was reading it out loud. "'Leviathan. . .to acquire prototype. . .havoc reactor.'"

"I'm sorry," Thompson frowned. "Leviathan?"

"As far as I know, it's an Old Testament sea monster," Sousa answered, obviously confused as well. "Who types, apparently."

"No. It's a covert Russian organization, supposedly," Chief Dooley wiped at his face as he explained.  "I always just assumed it was a spook story. Rumors had it, after the war, their group wanted to purchase weapons to fight the Allies."

This was certainly new information for (Y/N) and Peggy, who had been trying with no avail to discover what was Leviathan this whole time.

"Well, if they're real and she's reading that right — "

Peggy lifted her head again to glare at Thompson. "She is trying to concentrate, thank you."

"'Payment of $100,000 American upon delivery'," she continued, reading carefully each part to make sure she was right. "payable to. . .Howard Stark'."

"Hot damn," Thompson clapped his hands in victory. "We got him. We got Stark red-handed selling weapons to the Russians."

"Take a team to Belarus. Find Stark, bring him home," Chief Dooley instructed right away. "Li, Ramirez, gear up. You're going to Russia."

Peggy stood up to her full height, her eyes flickering from the men to the chief. "Li, Ramirez, Dewitt and Carter."

"Come again?" Chief Dooley turned back to her.

"Theres no one more qualified for this mission, sir," she didn't back down. "We are going to Russia."

To say that Thompson was in disagreement would be an understatement. Chief Dooley was unfortunate enough to have him, Peggy and (Y/N) trailing behind him like children, all yelling different arguments in order to benefit them.

"Look at my war records!"

"Chief, we are not having a knitting circle!"

"You need someone skilled for a job like this!"

"Stop!" Chief Dooley silenced the three voices out. Everyone in the office was looking at them in interest. "In my office."

"Are you really considering letting not only Dewitt, but Carter to go?" Thompson asked out.

Chief Dooley gave him a look. "What did I just say?"

He was the first one to enter the office, sitting on his large chair behind his desk. He looked up at the three different people standing on the other side of the desk, and he could already feel a headache coming its way.

Peggy was the one who spoke up first once the door was closed. "Chances are Leviathan will continue to communicate in code, which means that the team needs my skills as a code breaker, assuming that it is Leviathan. We've got no idea who's at the other end of that typewriter."

"All the more reason not to saddle me and my guys with babysitting them," Thompson argued.

(Y/N)'s fixated on glaring at the side of his head. "Would you like to have a nanny wipe the snot of your noses?"

"I might," he retorted with the same amount of attitude.

"Enough," Chief Dooley cut in, once again. "It's your team, Thompson. What do you want?"

"Look, it's great that Carter cracked the code. I am proud of her. I am," he sat down on the edge of the desk. He pretended not to notice the eye rolls he was receiving behind him. "But we have no idea what we're getting into over there, okay? I don't need brains. I need brawn. I need — "

"Someone who can infiltrate without getting detected. Men are alert for other men, they do not worry about a woman interfering with their operation,"  (Y/N) cut him off. "You need someone who also speaks the language."

"Ramirez speaks Russian."

"Carter and I spent three years in the mud of the European theatre," she said, facing back at the Chief to plead her case. "The Eastern front, the Western front, you name it, I was there."

"Yeah, surrounded by some of our best men."

"Agent Thompson, do you know what the smell of herring in the air means in the middle of a Belarussian summer?"

He let out a laugh at Peggy's question. "Someone's having a fish fry."

"It means there is wind blowing in from the Baltic," she stated, saying it like it was common knowledge that he didn't have. "It minds a snow storm in July, and if you can smell the wind, it means you have 30 minutes to find shelter and build a fire before you die of hypothermia in the morning."

She was so preoccupied in stating this directly at Thompson that she missed the subtle grin in the Chief's face.

"I know all of this because I've been there."

Thompson got up from the desk with a smug smile on his lips. "Now I know, too."

"Look, put yourself in my shoes, ladies," Chief Dooley held his hands out. "I send you on a mission, you get yourself killed, I'm the moron who got two women killed in action. I send you and one of my guys buys it, I'm the one who set him up to die. I know you spent time in Russia, but we're putting together a European tac team that knows the terrain."

"Not like we do," (Y/N) shook her head, not giving up easily. "Not like the 107th regiment."

"The Europeans don't even know Europe as well as the 107th," Thompson crossed his arms. "You think I wouldn't snatch them up if I could?"

She fought back a grin. This was how she was going to convince him to let them both go. "What would you say if I could deliver them?"

Chief Dooley gave her an incredulous look. "I'd say, 'Pack your bags,' but that's not gonna happen."

(Y/N) turned on her heel and walked out of the office, heading straight for her desk. Peggy followed a beat after her, reaching for her own telephone in case one of them was lucky enough to get picked up by them first.

Meanwhile, Thompson turned back around to face the Chief with a laugh. "I'm gonna miss her," he leaned down to lower his tone in front of the Chief. "I mean, come on, chief, you're not actually thinking about letting — "

"Son, I like you, but I'm running an office here," Chief Dooley interrupted him, his voice nearly on edge from having to yell in the office all day. "I got the vice president of the United States calling me at home, asking me when I'm gonna deliver him Howard Stark. At the same time, I got a Nazi war criminal telling me Stark's involved in a massacre. I'm trying to run an investigation here, and I don't have time on my docket for your little crush on Dewitt."

"Yes, sir," Thompson lowered his head, posture stiffened, backing away from the desk. He sighed and changed the subject. "Okay, uh, I'm thinking we fly the team over there, we land on the Polish side of the Russian border, we meet the tac team there, okay?"

(Y/N) walked right back into the office, without noticing she had cut in through Thompson's explanation. She leaned on the doorway, a smile of victory adorned in her features.

"The 107th will meet us at the Polish side of the Russian border," she informed. "That is the plan, isn't it? I assume it is because it's the obvious option."

"Gear up. You roll out in an hour," Chief Dooley finally announced. He spoke up before Thompson could even voice his complaint. "That's all."

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The sign over the changing room that clearly read Men's Changing Room was taunting (Y/N) as she stared at it, not daring to walk inside. She held her duffel bag, which had been handed to her a few minutes back, in both hands, while Peggy was on her side gripping the exact same bag.

Thompson had noticed them standing by the door and approached them, as he was also planning on entering that room. "Dewitt, Carter, if you're looking for a peep show, try Times Square."

"This is the only changing room in the SSR," (Y/N) stated, annoyance in her voice. "And we need to change."

"Try the ladies' room," he gave her that infuriating, teasing grin.

"The ladies' room is downstairs in the lobby of the ad agency," Peggy responded this time, using her free hand to place it on her hip. "I'd much rather suffer the musk of a men's locker room than have to change into tactical gear in a public restroom."

(Y/N) stared once again at the door before holding her breath as she pushed it open, bracing herself for whatever she was going to witness inside. It wasn't like she didn't have any experience in rooms like these — the quite opposite actually — but it was still awkward nonetheless.

"Pull up your skirts, boys!" Thompson yelled out at the same time the door was opening.

Inside, Li and Ramirez were already shrugging off their pants, standing in only their underpants and undershirts, but they were caught off guard when they saw (Y/N) and Peggy by the door.

"Whoa!"

They reached to cover themselves with the discarded clothing items on the floor, but (Y/N) and Peggy hadn't payed them any mind and headed straight to the other line of lockers for themselves. Thompson had enjoyed the entire thing, letting out a chuckle as he placed his stuff with the other men on his side of the locker room. 

"Geez, Dewitt, give a guy some warning," Li groaned, calming down from the scare.

"Oh, such fuss," Peggy scoffed.

(Y/N) placed her duffel bag on the bench as she yelled out, "Do any of you have sisters?"

"They don't look like you," Ramirez answered this time, and she could hear the smirk in his tone.

"Come on, congratulate the ladies," Thompson cut in. "They're on the team."

(Y/N) was already bracing herself for the comments that would follow up that sentence.

Immediately, Li turned to Thompson. "Jack, you really think that's a good idea?"

"Not my call."

Ramirez lowered his voice, but it was still heard over the quietness of the locker room. "We can't be responsible for — "

"Let me know if you want to stay home. I got six guys out there who'd love to take your place."

On the other side of the locker room, (Y/N) and Peggy were rummaging through their duffel bags until they came across with the protective vests, which were supposed to protect them from underneath their clothes.

"Oh, this is new," Peggy exclaimed as she held it out. "It's lighter than it looks."

"Yep," Thompson commented.  "Lab boys just dropped it off. It's 10 percent titanium alloy. Although, I don't think they had 38-22-38 in mind when they designed it."

"Math definitely isn't your specialty, is it, Agent Thompson?" (Y/N) jumped in defensively. "Or is that just words in general?"

"That's 'words in general, sir'."

She wished he could see the grin on her face. "There's no need to call me 'sir', Agent Thompson."

A huff of a laugh escaped Peggy's lips at that sentence. (Y/N) was satisfied at that, but also at the beat of silence that followed in Thompson's side of the locker room, even though there were silent shakes of laughter that belonged to none other than Li and Ramirez. She shrugged off the brown pencil skirt she'd been wearing all day down, along with the matching blazer, as calmly as she could, to the point where she was left in just her undergarments.

"Cat got your tongue, Lieutenant Junior Grade Thompson?"

He let out an audible scoff. "Guess you're used to serving under a captain, huh?"

"Not entirely," she shook her head, her mind thinking back of the colonel. "I'm just not used to serving with boys."

The door to the changing room opened and closed in a swift move, revealing Sousa holding a file in his unoccupied hand.

"Field report," he announced, handing it to Thompson. "Maps, weather, charts, all known bogey dope for the area, dossier files on the tac team, though Carter and Dewitt's pretty much all the intel you need on them."

A grin of appreciation waved over Peggy's lips, once that didn't go unnoticed by (Y/N). When she realized the knowing look she was receiving, Peggy made it disappear as soon as it came.

"Thorough as ever, Sousa," Thompson told him. Then, he clasped his hands together as if he came to a realization. "Oh, compass. Compass. Almost forgot my compass. Uh, locker 42. Would you grab that for me, pal?"

(Y/N) heard this, including the breath of a laugh that escaped Thompson's lips, but didn't have enough time to react when Sousa walked into their side of the room, startling everyone, even himself.

"Oh, Jeepers!"

"Oh, bloody Nora!"

(Y/N) and Peggy turned around to avoid Sousa looking inappropriately, already embarrassing enough that he had stumbled upon them in such a vulnerable state.

"Whoa, Nelly!"

He paused by one of the lockers, hiding behind it to make things less awkward than they already were. He could hear the laughter from the men on the other side of the room.

"Found it!" Thompson yelled out. "Don't have to worry about it, Sousa."

(Y/N) wanted to hit him, she really did, but figured she'd do that after the mission to not risk getting left out at the last minute. If she hadn't been giving her back to Sousa, she would've noticed him looking at one of her many scars, especially the one on her thigh, one she always tried to hide.

"Is there anything else, Daniel?" Peggy broke the silence.

"Uh. . ."

"'Uh?'" She mocked his tone with a frown.

"No."

"No?"

He began to awkwardly back away from the area, "Have a swell trip."

development in thompson and y/n's relationship will come !! i'm so excited to write some growth.

i realized that, based on the timeline of the book, this makes y/n (aka you guys) older than sliced bread. let that sink in l o l.

also, that vest that is made out of titanium alloy? you know what else is made out of that? the suit of dewitt's future — i'm gonna shut up now.

- see you soon, bex <3