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“I demand a rematch.”“Peggy, please, no.”“Steve, yes. It’s a matter of honor.”“I leave for a mission in just a couple hours, and I haven’t slept—”“Well, then, you best be quick, Captain.”-----Peggy’s competitive streak was the stuff of legends.Her first word was “win,” to hear her mother tell it, but whether or not it was true, she took it to heart. From playing football with her brother Michael to the schoolyard to basic training, Peggy fought hard and dirty to be the best. And she was. She was the fastest worker at Bletchley Park, the most accurate shot of her unit, the quickest uppercut of anyone in the SSR. She could drink any man under the table and sew a button on a blouse in under two minutes.Her proudest accomplishment, though, was her mastery of chess. Peggy had never met an opponent she couldn’t beat. This was, she knew, one of the reasons she was such a good agent—thinking four steps ahead, discerning her opponent’s motives and strategy, hiding her true intentions, and a host of other skills she used every day came from lessons learned on the chessboard.Peggy had never lost a game of chess, but as with so many other things, Steve Rogers swooped in and turned her world upside down.-----The first time it happened, Peggy thought she was dreaming.She and the rest of the Commandos had a rare moment of downtime between blowing up HYDRA bases, and Morita had produced a travel chess set from somewhere in his things. Barnes had drawn up a crude tournament bracket, and Peggy relished in knocking the men out of competition one by one. In between her matches, she watched as Steve carefully and methodically defeated his own opponents.She made it her mission to knock that small, yet unbearably smug, grin off his face. Metaphorically.It was all going so well, until—“Checkmate.”It felt like a powerful force slammed into Peggy’s gut, knocking all the air out of her lungs. “What?”Steve slumped back in his chair, the beginnings of a blush stealing over his cheekbones. “Umm…checkmate?”“That’s not possible,” Peggy gasped, eyes darting over the pieces on the board, trying to find some way to salvage the game—and her newly precarious reputation.There was no escape. Her king was trapped.She swayed in her chair. “H-how did—how did you—”Steve shrugged, a little sheepish. “It was like planning an op against a base. I could map out a few different possible ways the game could go and went from there.”Peggy stared at him, sizing him up as an opponent who had done what no other could. She looked at the board and back at him, and his blush deepened under her gaze. (She was embarrassed to realize she found it to be quite a good look on him.)“Right,” Peggy said, grabbing her pieces away from where they sat by Steve’s foot, “reset your pieces, Captain Rogers. We’re playing again, and this time I will show you who’s in charge here.”She did not, in fact, show Steve who was in charge. She lost within ten moves and seriously considered shooting him again, shield or no shield.-----The fourth time it happened, Peggy thought she might cry.She stared forlornly at her king, unable to move, utterly defenseless. With a sigh, she looked up at Steve, who was clearly trying--and failing--to suppress a laugh at her distress.“Oh, go on. Just say it. Put me out of my misery.”He attempted to mask his chuckle with an unconvincing cough. “Checkmate.”Peggy dropped her face into her hands and groaned, “How does this keep happening?”Steve shoved the board to the side and shifted next to Peggy, wrapping an arm around her waist. “I’m sorry.”“No, you’re not,” Peggy retorted, voice muffled.“Okay, I’m not. But I’ll make it up to you?” Peggy leaned into his embrace, which he took as his cue to continue. “I pulled some strings, and we may or may not have a weekend pass together next week. I’ll buy you a drink, take you out dancing. Let you step on my toes in retaliation? What do you think?”Peggy snorted and looked up at Steve, one eyebrow raised. “We both know that you’ll be the one stepping on my toes.”Steve grinned. “Details, details. Are you saying yes?”“Yes, I’m saying yes,” Peggy replied, her lips turning up despite herself at his excitement. They had had so little time together, and it would be fun to just be themselves for a night, without the responsibilities and complications that came with being Captain America and Agent Carter.She was still a little mad at him, but as he leaned down and pressed an eager kiss to her lips, she couldn’t quite remember why.-----The sixth time it happened, Peggy actually did cry.“Checkmate.”Peggy looked down at the board, and up at his grinning face, and then, to her horror, she burst into tears.“Peggy?” Steve sat up a little straighter in the hospital bed, his scratchy blanket falling into his lap. Peggy let out a strangled noise and tucked the fabric around his torso more tightly, avoiding his concerned gaze. “Sweetheart, what's wrong? Last time I beat you at chess you tried to bludgeon me with my own shield, but you definitely didn't take it this badly.”Peggy smacked his shoulder and sniffed loudly. “I did not try to bludgeon you. My God, Steve, you’re so dramatic.”Undeterred, Steve wrapped gentle fingers around her wrist and drew her closer, his forehead tilted to rest against her own. “Peggy. Tell me, please.”“You bloody bastard,” Peggy muttered, her tone far more affectionate than the words suggested. Her eyes fluttered shut at the feel of him, his skin warm to the touch, his presence at once overwhelming and comforting. “You’ve got me all out of sorts. I’m actually glad you beat me at chess.”Steve pulled away and laughed, his shoulders shaking with mirth. His laugh had always been infectious, and Peggy joined in with a wet chuckle, even as her throat closed with the sobs she had valiantly held back since he had first woken, pale and shivering and barely alive.She had thought she would never hear his laugh again.“You can never do that to me again, do you understand?” She placed a hand on his chest to drive her point home, but she lost herself for a moment in the feel of his strong, steady heartbeat beneath her fingers.“What, beat you at chess?” He grinned at her, eyes still bright with laughter.Peggy glared at him, and he placed his hand over hers, expression suddenly serious.“I could never leave you, Peggy. You’re my best girl, and besides, you owe me a dance.”-----The ninth time it happened, Peggy broke the board.“Do you really want to do that while I’m armed?”Steve stroked the head of his bishop with one finger and tilted his head to the side, pretending to give his move serious thought. “I have my shield right here, so yes.” He pushed his bishop forward two diagonal squares. “Checkmate.”“Goddammit, Steve!” she hissed, mindful of just how close the van was parked to the club they were monitoring.“Want a rematch?” Steve asked, ignoring her glare as he reset the pieces.“Do I want a rematch? Do you want a foot up--” A loud burst of gunfire echoed outside the surveillance van, and Steve and Peggy scrambled to gather their gear, tossing extraneous items to the side and bumping into each other as they navigated the small space.A few seconds later, they spilled out of the back of the van and sprinted toward the entrance of the club. As they ran, Steve said, “You know you broke the chessboard back there, right?”“Good. That one was clearly unlucky.”Steve rolled his eyes and laughed. “Yeah, that’s why you kept losing. The board.”“Shut up and put your shield up, Rogers. If you get yourself shot, I will be very cross with you.”“Yes, ma’am.”-----The tenth time it happened, Peggy started to plan.Chess may have taught her a lot of important lessons about being an agent, but being an agent had taught her to be sneaky. To always get the win, even if you had to make up the rules as you went.So two weeks later, on a sunny afternoon in early May, when Steve asked if she was up for a game of chess, Peggy was ready.