Title: From This Day Forward
Author: clarahow // agentroxylancelots // charleybradburies (will be posted after challenge)
Fandom: Agent Carter / Marvel / MCU
Characters: Daniel Sousa (POV) / Jack Thompson / Peggy Carter / SSR Agents Ramirez & Wilkes
Pairing: PeggySous (Peggy/Daniel)
Length: ~1630w
Rating: T
Summary: A night shift, an unexpected wingman, and a second chance.
Content Notes: Awkward flirting and some relatively mild male obnoxiousness. A couple of conversations interruptus. Includes references to alcohol and sex.
Author Notes: Written for Challenge #116: Refusal. Additionally fits challenges #7: Do-Over and #25: Borrowed Title.
Title borrowed from the 1946 film "From This Day Forward," which was released about a month before this would be happening in MCU canon, a couple of days following the close of Agent Carter S1. (April 19, 2015 will be the 69th anniversary of its release.)
*post edited bc I forgot to put the title oops*

Daniel’s hard at work when he hears shuffling on the edge of his desk. It’s obviously Thompson, so he doesn’t bother looking up.

“So, where you taking her?”

Daniel’s focus is shot; his head jerks up. Thompson’s propped himself on the corner of Daniel’s desk, looking down at him curiously.

“Excuse me?”

“You asked Carter out. I asked where you’re taking her.”

Daniel scoffs.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m not taking her anywhere.”

He grimaces at how harsh his reply sounds, and is surprised to see that Thompson does as well - he looks particularly taken aback.

“So…what’s your next move?”

“Next move? I don’t have a “next move.” She said no. That’s that.”

“Wait, she said no?”

“What universe did we wake up in yesterday afternoon that you’re surprised by that?”

Thompson fumbles over himself for a moment.

“I mean, when you…she was smiling like a schoolgirl when your conversation was over, I just figured…she said no?”

Daniel sighs, this time actually annoyed enough to lean all the way back in his chair and glare at Thompson properly.

“Sousa, what were her actual words?”

Daniel rolls his eyes.

“Maybe another time, she had to meet a friend,” he answers, obligingly but mockingly, his begrudging acceptance of defeat all but explicit. And Thompson, the son of a bitch, fucking laughs. Daniel feels his glare losing what little sympathy it had held; Thompson pushes himself up from the desk and reaches over to clap him on the shoulder, almost as though they weren’t just tiptoeing around hating each other.

“Ask again.”

“And why would I do that? So you can have a front seat to my rejection this time?”

“Won’t be a reject- oh…”

His voice rises excitedly as soon as his eyes graze over the entryway to their office, the way it does when he finds out they get to question somebody’s wife.

Of course.

“Morning, gentlemen,” Peggy grins as she walks in, and it’s reassuring that as usual she’s looking more at him than at Thompson. The closer she gets, the more quizzical, and though Daniel can’t see him directly after swiveling the chair towards Peggy, he knows that Thompson’s facial expression probably has something to do with it.

“You’re here early,” Thompson says, voice pointed and enquiring, as she slings her light coat onto the rack.

“Does that pose a problem for you, Captain?” she replies, the title falling sharply from her tongue.

“Not that I know of yet.”

He tries to match her tone, but doesn’t quite manage; she only rolls her eyes at him, picking the mug up from her desk and making the subsequent glance at him a bit more stern.

“I’m…gonna go back to my office,” Thompson announces, then quickly - one might even say he rushed - returns to his own desk, the door closed behind him but his gaze peeking through the window.

“Is Thompson all right?” Peggy asks, turning her attention back to Daniel as she starts walking past his desk, and he shrugs.

“Well…”

“Oh, you knew what I meant!” Peggy scolds jokingly, chuckling. “Well, you've survived your shift. That’s something.”

“That it is,” Daniel agrees enthusiastically, as though it had been entirely unbearable.

“Will you need to be having some coffee before you go home? I’m on my way to get myself some anyway,” she offers easily.

“That would be fantastic, if you really don’t mind.”

“Not for you, no,” she nods, smiling as she heads off for the break room, unaware of how fondly his eyes follow her there. It’s only a few minutes of paperwork later that she’s walking back through the bullpen - albeit more slowly than her arrival - and setting a mug down in front of him.

“Thank you, Agent Carter.”

“Oh, are we back to that now?”

“Come again?”

“Took longer for you to call me Peggy than Thompson to call me Agent.”

“And you’d rather I call you Peggy?”

“It is my name, Daniel,” she says lightly, leaning now against the edge of the desk right next to him, and even as she’s bringing her mug up to her lips, she has a gentle smile, and at first he just nods in response.

“Yes, ma’am, it is,” he teases, and she gives an amused gasp.

“Get a load of you, being cheeky today! Perhaps I shouldn’t have gotten you coffee after all,” she retorts jovially.

“Well, at least it’s not whiskey,” Daniel jokes, reaching for his mug and taking a sip of his coffee. Peggy laughs for a moment before growing visibly tense, and he sets the mug down.

“Listen, Daniel, about the other day-"

“You don’t have to say anything.”

“There are a lot of things I do that I’m not required to do.”

Daniel knows better than to give more than his nod of assent. She speaks again, more soberly.

“Many of them being social engagements.”

Peggy pauses, seemingly for a breath but Daniel knows that the composition of her next sentence is at play; though his brow furrows he tries to keep his expression neutral.

“You remember Angie? Angie Martinelli? You and Thompson stopped by her room at the Griffith because we were friends?”

“I do remember her, yes. Crying on Thompson’s shoulder and getting her to tell her what he calls his grandmother, it was all quite endearing,” Daniel replies, grinning at the memory.

Peggy chuckles.

“She and I are - have been - quite close. Howard’s offered the both of us residence in his mansion, and we’ve moved in during the past couple of days. Even though we’ve had multiple drinks, he and us and the Jarvises, Howard is insistent that we should all get a chance to celebrate properly; he’s spoken with some friend of his who works at El Morocco and arranged that we could all go have a dinner there some night soon - either on the house or on him, he won’t tell me - and I was hoping...you might join me.”

His breath is harder to temper, but he does his best, hoping that his gleeful surprise isn’t too obvious.

“I would love to join you for dinner.”

“Great!”

Peggy smiles broadly; she’s close enough to him that he can feel her tension dissipating.

“Did you have an idea as to when you wanted to go or…”

“I mean, that all depends on when is best for you. I have no actual plans anytime soon, but I’m quite sure Angie will be finding something extravagant for us to be doing at every waking moment - currently it’s calling from every telephone in the house-“

“How many telephones can one house-“

“One in every room, easily more than fifty. It’s really quite excessive.”

“Wow. That is a lot of telephones…um, other than that I’ll be with my dad next Saturday, I have no plans either. Couple plays I’d hope to go to but that doesn’t always pan out.”

“Well...you’ll be going home in less than an hour. Could you be well-rested enough to make a night of it tonight?”

“I certainly could be.”

Dear God, she’s blushing.

“You do remember how to get to Howard’s mansion, yes? Say seven, perhaps?”

“Seven sounds-"

“Good morning, comrades, good morning! You are relieved from - Carter, what are you doing here already?” interrupts Agent Ramirez before Daniel’s finished his sentence, traipsing into the room. The smell of what seems more like perfume than cologne comes with him, and Daniel tries not to smirk.

“I do believe it’s called working, Agent Ramirez,” says Peggy flatly.

“Ya sure? Cause it kinda looks more like you’re flirting,” he replies tauntingly - but her retort hits him only a couple of seconds later, with even more aplomb and condescension than his remark had hoped to wield.

“Most impressive detective work I've ever seen from you, Agent Ramirez! Well done!”

Thompson’s voice comes from behind them as he leans in the doorway of his office: a commiserating hiss as though he was reeling from watching Peggy punch someone in the face (which had indeed happened before, and usually it was inevitable that they’d feel bad for even some of their least favorite suspects when they were icing their faces afterwards).

Peggy pops off Daniel’s desk from where she’d been leaning, and heads back to her own. The bullpen stays silent aside from the clack of her heels and then her mug being set on the desktop until Ramirez picks up where he’d gotten sidetracked.

“Well, as I was saying: Thompson, Sousa, you’re free. Go home, get some sleep, make some passes on some lasses, whistle Dixie. You know the drill…”

“Ramirez?” Thompson says, his voice purposeful and hands slipping into his trouser pockets.

“Yes, Cap’n?”

“Remember that - I’m the Captain here.”

“You’re also not workin’ day shift today.”

“No, I’m not, but actually, Carter is, and since Carter came in early I think she should have a little more rein today.”

Ramirez sobers, as does Wilkes, who’s only just coming in the door.

“You’re joking,” Ramirez replies, in total disbelief. Daniel glances behind himself to see Peggy’s amused but shocked expression as he tries to keep himself from laughing.

“What I am, Ramirez, is going to bed,” Thompson declares, and then reaches back for his hat on the coat rack in his office. “And I’ll see you wise guys on Monday. As will Sousa, whenever Carter’s done with him.”

“You do know you aren’t funny, don’t you, Jack?” she retorts totally levelheadedly, even before the other agents get a chance to laugh at Thompson’s remark.

“I’ll see you on Monday, too, Carter,” he replies, giving her - and then Daniel - a wink that’s intentionally obnoxious as he strides out. Daniel doesn’t even have to look at Peggy to just feel her eyes rolling, but he’s turning around anyway, for other purposes.

“Seven?” he whispers, and she nods.

“Seven.”