Hey everyone. Deviating from normal, I know, but I haven't really been getting inspiration for Mockingbirds for a while. Then I saw Agent Carter again, and I really liked the JackxPeggy pairing. Enough to realise that there is a hilariously small amount of ff on them. So here we are - desperate times, desperate measures.

Agent Carter belongs to me about as much as America does.

When Jack had been thirteen years old, he had spoken to a girl without pulling her pigtails for the first time. The result of this encounter was something that had eventually lead him to understand that girls were more than just pigtails to be pulled. Because Anne Howard was smart, and she had spoken to him like he ought to know how ridiculous it was to be pulling anyone's pigtails.

He had, in fact, had many dates during high school. Before he joined the Navy, girls had, for some bizarre reason, liked him enough to date him now and again. His mother didn't approve of it at all, but his Grandma didn't have any scandalized reactions to it. If his Grandma was not suitably scandalized, the rest of the family normally did not say anything.

And so it was that Jack dated, now and again. Of course, it was Anne Howard who he stuck with for more than a month. They dated for two, and then three, and eventually six. When they had their anniversary, she rolled her eyes at him forgetting all about it, smacked him until he got her flowers and chocolates, and then proceeded to tell him that on no account was this to happen again.

He had genuinely liked Anne, obviously. He may even have fallen in love with her properly had the war not happened. As it turned out, she became a nurse during the war, and was killed when her camp was bombed. But before she died, he'd danced with her on their anniversaries, he'd kissed her at the movies, and she'd sighed when he had made love to her before leaving for the Navy.

The point Jack was trying to make, through all of this reminiscing, was that Peggy Carter left a lot to be desired.

She was not a very dateable woman, he decided. There was no possible way Peggy would care about romancing. There was a very miniscule chance that she may care for flowers. And even that chance banked on her inherent Britishness.

"Thompson, Ramirez says he has tracked down the suspect. Sousa wants you to go in," she said sharply to him.

"'Aight," said Jack, getting up. Yes, Peggy Carter was a hopeless woman. No one would have a chance of knowing what to do should they be dating her. If they held her hand, she may reflexively break it. If the fella tried to bring her flowers, she may roll her eyes and check for poisons. If they tried to protect her from anything, she may even laugh derisively in the face of danger. No, Peggy was not in any sense the ideal woman.

He got up, taking his cup with him, getting ready to confront the suspect. An interesting case: a murder is normally something that didn't figure into the SSR's agenda, but one with foreign nationals did. Especially when the foreign nationals were key in some agendas for the government. He absentmindedly reflected on the particulars, opening a packet of sugar. The sugar was intended for his cup of coffee, obviously – but it ended up squarely on the floor.

"Thompson, for God's sake, what's gotten into you today?" snapped Peggy from her workstation.

He gave a brief sigh of frustration.

"What?" asked Peggy, once again.

"You do know that it's our anniversary, right?" he asked finally.

She frowned, but he could see the corners of her mouth lifting up a little.

"I'm aware," she said neutrally.

"The first girl I dated long enough to have a good anniversary with smacked me for not remembering," said Jack conversationally. "And you didn't even have the decency to roll your eyes."

"Please, Thompson, what would you like?" asked Peggy from her workstation. "'Jack Richard Thompson, how dare you have the indecency to forget a date like this? Do you have an iota of romantic sense?"

He glared at her, noting her deliberate use of his full name. "Well, it would have been nice for starters."

"You could have just done whatever you had in mind without me rolling my eyes in a very stereotypical way, Jack," said Peggy.

"Oh, please," said Jack. "I am on my toes because I do not understand what you find romantic, Carter. You seem to enjoy the concept of target shooting more than you do a romantic dinner. Other times, you're all fluff and candy, wanting to go for a walk or something. Romance, Miss Carter, is certainly not your forte."

"Mmh," said Peggy. "I suppose your dilemma is one which every man faces: what is the woman thinking?"

"Well, yeah," said Jack, stuffing his hands down his pockets.

"And I will answer your question with words which are not particularly suitable for the ears of people other than you. Perhaps when you return with the suspect?" said Peggy, raising her eyebrows.

Was she… flirting with him? In the middle of the bullpen?

Carter made it a ridiculous point not to ever flirt with him in front of their colleagues. Apparently, it was bad enough that she was a woman in a man's world, it would be worse if her colleagues found out that she had the indecency to date one of them.

"Yes, Agent Thompson?" said Carter, again.

Jack, for all his supposed prowess with girls, just found himself deeply uncomfortable. Peggy smiled and he knew she had done all of it deliberately.

"From now on, you have the responsibility of romantic gestures on anniversaries," said Jack grumpily. "Flowers, dinner, the whole thing."

"Deal," said Carter, her lips twitching. "Not very conventional, though."

Jack looked around to make sure no one was watching. "Not really one for conventions, you and I," he said, stealing a kiss.

(Psst I love reviews)