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With Peggy shipping off to Europe shortly, Sousa made sure to come home as soon as he could after the late meeting the other night. He tried to talk to Mickey about it but she threw a bit of a tantrum and has shut herself up in her room. He made sure that she couldn't try climbing out the window or sneak out the back but after that. he was happy to let her burn off some of that angry energy. He doesn't really blame her.
Dinner is in the oven and he hopes that soon, the delicious smells will lure her out. In the meantime though, he's working on straightening up, gathering up colored pencils and papers from earlier art-time.
*
On nights like this, Peggy actually does make a concerned effort to get home early. She knew she'd be gone a long time, that Mickey would be throwing a fit, that she wanted one last night with her family. So, the sound of her car pulling up can be heard, the garage following a few seconds later and, within minutes, her high heels click on the tile floor of their kitchen, coming in from the side door. She gives a gentle smile in his direction, but the expression on her face is already apologetic and knows she blind sided him. She can practically taste the tension in the air.
"…Made it home before dinner… I'll call that a win, at least?" Peggy offers, almost hopefully, trying to guage how unhappy he is with her over the Geneva thing.
*
"Your daughter is sulking in her room," Daniel points out as he continues to pick up the art supplies. "I guess it's a win. It gives you more time to pack, doesn't it?" He's just a little upset at the situation, it seems. He limps around the kitchen and dining room in silence for a few more steps before he turns, "You couldn't have told me before? Like…even five minutes before? I had to learn about this trip at a Staff Meeting?"
*
She deserved that. Peggy goes quiet a moment or two, watching her husband as he moves limping around the kitchen. She sighs gently, trying to pull the sting and tightness out of her throat. "…I am… sorry. I should have, actually. I just… have been so caught up in all of this. My head isn't here." Peggy admits softly, thought it's not meant as an excuse. Just an attempt to explain a little bit as to why it's happened. She steps up to his side, her fingertips brushing against his ribs. "I'm sorry." She tries to gain his eyes for a heartbeat or two.
*
"I know." Sousa pauses, turning to look at her at the apology and the touch. It doesn't seem to make things better, however. "I -know-. I know that you're focused and you're ambitious and that you have a large organization to run. I love that about you. That you don't take guff from anyone and you have more ambition than anyone I know, male or female." He takes a breath then, "But all I ask is that you occasionally think about your family. I'm not asking that you put us first, but something like this, couldn't you have? Just a little?"
*
Peggy has reconnected.
*
Those words sting even more. Because Peggy *knows* she doesn't always put family first, and maybe she should. It's the juggling game she still doesn't always know how to play, especially when she cuts the mother part of her out of her brain to focus on the director part so she can get through the office every day, taking no gruff, showing no weakness. Her lips press quietly, staring up to him as she tries to think of an answer and simply cannot. No quick come back this time. Nothing but pain and apology in her eyes. "…I should have." She finally whispers, never good at being wrong, but she isn't going to fight him on this one. "…Dammit, Daniel, I don't know what to say. I love you and I love Mickey, but you KNEW what you were getting into when you married me!"
*
Sousa goes back to picking up the art supplies and finally putting them back in the credenza where they tend to live. "I know you do and I knew what I was getting into, sure. And I wouldn't change a thing. But we're here too. Just…" he takes in a breath and lets it out with his frustration, "Try to think of us every now and then, please."
It's said. His frustration is vented. He could probably blow up a bit more but their daughter is upstairs and it really wouldn't serve much purpose. He doesn't tend to do things without purpose.
*
That's when she half rushes forward, grabbing his hands, tugging him upwards to actually look at her. Peggy's eyes are glassy with a touch of tears she's not letting herself spend, but she needs him to see her eyes and see just how much she means every word she says, "Daniel. I think of you every… every minute of every day. I know… it might not seem like it. But you and Mickey… you're my life. I do think of you. And I'm half sick over Geneva because it means I'm bringing *monsters* home. With you here. With Mickey here. Even when I'm caught up at work it's because I want to give HER every chance that WE never had. I want HER to sleep easy at night… not to even know such monsters exist…"
*
Peggy has partially disconnected.
*
Sousa staggers some as he's grabbed, but he stays upright. "I know you do, Peggy." He's serious about that. He's serious about knowing her and knowing how she feels about them. He feels the same way. But he's also not Director Peggy Carter.
"I'm not telling you not to go to Geneva. You should. You, of anyone else I know, might be able to talk them out of this. If it's like you say though, it probably won't, but you have to try." He's not even sure if he's upset anymore.
*
Peg keeps his hands tight, that glimmer still in her eyes as she studies his face. "…I know. I have to go. I don't want to. God, Daniel… I just want to give it up, somedays. Throw in the bloody towel and we'll move to the west coast and get jobs that end at five o'clock and Mickey will always have one of us home… There are some days I want that so damn much." A want she's never actually confessed to him, but he knows her well enough. She's not lying.
"…But we can't. Because… we know. We know we'd never be safe. She'd never be safe. There would still be things out there… Getting worse. People we don't know and can't trust… Neither of us can turn away from this. Can we?"
*
"We know too much. We're G-men…and women," Daniel points out. "We both knew what we got into when we took the job. We both knew what it meant when we got married. When we had Mickey." He turns away for a moment before he looks back, "I'm not angry, Peg. I'm just…I don't know what I am."
The oven dings and he starts to move towards the kitchen, "If we're going to give into the paranoia, then no one is safe, but we're the ones who try to keep them safe. Even if we have these…awful men here, we're going to do what we can to keep Mickey and everyone safe." He puts on oven mitts and takes dinner out of the oven to set on top of the stove to cool down some.
"But we're also a family. And sometimes we need to be that before we can be the heroes."
*
These were the arguments she used to use, ten years ago now, against having children. But Peggy has never brought it up once since they had Mickey. She'd never change their lives for anything now. So, she has to reasses her mindset, sometimes. SHe follows him back into the kitchen an leans over after he sets that hot pan down, gently kissing the back of his neck. "…I love you. I…I will work on it. I need to work on it. Nothing changes how much I love you, though. Or her." One more kiss, and she's gently pulling away.
"Let me go get her… bring her down for dinner. Hopefully she'll come for me." Peggy states with a wan smile. her daughter certainly had her stubborn streak. She's then moving for the hallway and the stairs to go reclaim the princess of the house.
*
"I never doubted that, Peggy. I don't doubt your love for me or Mickey." Sousa does pause then to turn around to look at her, "Good luck. She's really mad at you. Maybe a little less mad at me, but I had to deliver the news." So they're both in the doghouse.
In the meantime, he'll make sure to set the table and get the food ready to serve.
*
Sure enough, Peggy is in a LOT of trouble with her daughter. It's a good fifteen minutes, two sloppy pig tails in *her* hair, and Peggy's good lipstick on Mickey's lips later that the mismatched pair of mother and daughter are coming down the stairs, Mickey on Peggy's hip. Lots of bribery had to happen to make it to this accord, but they managed. "Well…after a long time at the diplomatic treaty table with the Princess Michaela, I do believe we have reached peace talks." Ahh, international spy family jokes.
Mickey is still looking skeptical, "If I get two stories, and the bubble bath, and the dog when you get home. Then I'm not mad. I'm mad until then." Peggy just got entirely hosed by a five year old.
*
Sousa somehow manages not to burst out laughing when he sees the two coming down for dinner. He can't hide a smile though. "I see." The smile quickly fades though and he looks startled at the stated demands, "What dog? Peggy…" there's a wary tone to his voice, "What. Dog."
*
A little side ways look is given to Daniel as Peggy settles Mickey down in her chair and then comes around to take her own seat. She actually looks a little caught between a rock and a hard place. "..I… simply said that… if she was very good, and finished dinner, and we didn't have any fighting… and she was *good* for Victoria… I may consider… bringing home a dog." Peggy admits with a half wince.
"No. You promised. If I did all those things, I get a dog. You promised." Mickey states simply, sounding ACHINGLY like her mother, with that same proud stubbornness.
*
"A stuffed dog…" Sousa tries to clarify, "Right?" He looks from Peggy to Mickey, "What about being good for me?" He goes to help Mickey to her chair and serve her some dinner. As he's cutting up her chicken, he whispers to Peggy, "We can't have a real dog…"
*
That insistance just draws both lofted brows from Peggy as if to say 'why not?' "Are you allergic?" Peggy mouths more than actually asks, the whisper meant to be between both of them. But Mickey isn't buying it. She leans forward, trying to peer at her parent's mouths so she can see what they are saying that she can't quite hear. "Not stuffed. Real. And I'm always good for you, daddy." She's giving him that smile which is all sugar and sweetness to the point that one might ALMOST believe it.
*
"No, but…I can't -walk- a dog," Sousa protests before he looks back to Mickey at her insistence. "We'll discuss it. Sadly, those negotiations were a bit lopsided. Your mother doesn't have full authority. It's not a monarchy." He sends Peggy a glance then before he gestures for her to take a seat at her plate.
"Mmm." is offered back to Mickey, "I'm going to hold you to that, Princess."
*
Peg is about to say something, and her eyes flicker down, to the new prosthetic. She's not going to ask in front of Mickey, but her lofted brows say that he might be surprised what the new leg can do. Still, she slips into her seat across from him and smiles a bit more, cutting into the chicken. "I might be a push over, Mickey, but your father is a tougher case. You talk to him. Maybe you can talk him into a cat." Peggy's smile is a bit more warm, though, the 'arguments' between them now the light and comfortable sort they often have.
"Two cats and I'll consider it." Peggy half rolls her eyes and cannot help but laugh a little as she takes a bite of her own food.
*
"No live animals are on the table. A trip to the Zoo, however, might be." That's his concession. Darn right he's a tough case. "Good behavior isn't something to be negotiated. It's to be expected. However, if you help me and Miss Stackpoole," who he has yet to really meet, "Around the house while your mother is away, we can think of some appropriate reward."
He also sits down at that and inclines his head at Peggy. Maybe -he- should be the one going to Geneva; seems he's at least as stubborn as she.
Or they send Mickey. She seems to have them both beat out.
*
Mickey is *just* on the edge of throwing another fit, but she stares at her father and seems to get the sense it'd do no good now. Daniel wasn't feeling near so guilty as her mother. Mickey, instead, just pouts a bit and stabs a fork into her chicken. "I'll think about it." She huffs. But that should be counted as a win in Daniel's book.
Peggy cannot help but let a slightly wider smile escape as she watches her husband and realizes *just* how good he is with their daughter. She never dreamt she'd be so lucky. Her foot comes forward, finding the edge of his real ankle under the table and slipping her toes beneath the cuff of his pants. Just a little, secretive touch. Something of love and gratitude, as they settle into a more relaxed dinner.
*