Peggy weighted her options even as her instincts acted without her.
Being caught under Daniel Sousa's desk would be embarrassing. Being caught photographically at Spider Raymond's nightclub would be fatal.
As Daniel limped his way to his desk, his crutch banging louder with every step, Peggy hurried her lockpick through his drawer, clicked it open, pulled out the folder. She flipped through the photos inside, scanning desperately for her own form—with the shade of hair dye she'd used, it would be hard to miss—but came up with nothing. She wished she had time to double-check, but Daniel's crutch sounded right next to the desk. She pinched the folder shut, thrust it back into the drawer, and shut it just as Daniel came around the desk, sitting heavily down in his chair.
Up close, Peggy could hear the wince of the metal leg brace under his pantleg.
He must oil it obsessively to keep it from sounding off
, she realized.
He was set on answering his ringing phone, but it didn't take a trained intelligence officer very long to notice there was a Brit where his feet normally went. Peggy always had enjoyed being noticed.
"Peg?" he said with the phone pressed against his chest, his voice not going a single syllable before lowering to hide his surprise from the office. In a hushed, hoarse voice he continued: "What are you doing down there?"
"I... thought I'd surprise you."
"You've succeeded," Daniel declared, wide-eyed. "It's for you."
He held out the handset. Peggy took it, quickly parsing the boss's request for the Project Rebirth vita-ray detector and promising to get him to it straight away. Then she handed the phone back to Daniel, who hung it up for her.
"Is the office quite full?"
"It's emptying out, people going to lunch, where you should be. Or, well, anywhere but under my desk."
"Yes, about that," Peggy said drolly, as if he'd just brought up her latest hairstyle. She didn't have a cover story for hiding under someone's desk—clearly she should've. So, in the grand tradition of Captain America, she decided to wing it. "The truth is, Mr. Sousa—Daniel—I'm not altogether comfortable with where we left things the other day."
"The other day?"
"When you stood up for me. I fear I was a bit short with you."
"It's fine, you're right, I was overstepping my bounds. You're not mine to protect or—can we have this conversation at eyelevel? People are gonna think I'm talking to my... shoes."
Peggy smiled ruefully up at him. "I'd prefer to stay down here for the same reason I waited for you here to begin with. The fact is, I somewhat return your... consternation... and I feel poorly about being similarly constrained."
"How's that?"
Peggy put her hand on the knee of his wool trousers. "Well, as much as I'm picked on, your handicap makes you as much a target. Those lumbering oafs we share an office with think that you're somehow less of a man because of your impairment. As if they have an iota of the strength it took for you to keep on after your injury, and make yourself of such service to your country. You have more masculinity in your little finger than they do in their whole rotten bodies."
She thought he might be blushing. "That's... that really is kind of you to say. And I do appreciate it, I do. But I think we could've had this conversation without anyone ducking."
"That's the thing, Daniel." She rubbed her hand over his knee, toward his thigh, and thought she could feel the drops of blood in his veins as every one of them rushed to his prick. "As much as I wish it weren't so, I think there are women who might be just as short-sighted. As unappreciative of you as Krzeminski or Thompson."
"I, uh..." It was terribly unfair of her, but Peggy had always been able to tell when a man's phallus was humming like a tuning fork. And she thought she could hear Daniel's vibrate. "I do alright for myself."
"I think we're rather alike." Peggy could see the front of his pants beginning to thrust out. "We can be our own worst enemies. Give into doubt, think that the world has us pegged." She could hear his breath going fast as an engine. "Someone merely voicing their appreciation for us, as heartfelt and sincere as it is, can be ignored." She fingered the top of his zipper. Drew it down a few inches. "I want to show you just how wonderful I find you. And how I appreciate just what kind of man you are."
Daniel sat there, his hands tightening on the folds of his trouser, not sure if he should touch her. His face was stricken. She pushed a soothing kiss against his zipper before going any further, caught a whiff of him. Musky. Wonderful.
"And maybe you can show me just how much
I'm
appreciated."
She drew his zipper down further, her head tilted to peer into the opening fly, peek what was inside. Another inch and his prick came springing out, its contours outlined by his white cotton undershorts, a thickened shaft pressing out for her. She unbuckled his belt and his fly gaped open, edges folded into a vee, the knob sticking above the band of his shorts and his balls packing the crotch of them full.
