Who Taught Steve to Fight?
Angie’s reaction to having her Broadway premiere party crashed by a dozen gun wielding men was not what Peggy would’ve expected. Of course, Angie had always been good at surprising her.
The thing was, Angie wasn’t nearly upset enough. Not when a couple of strange lawmen had nearly broken down her door looking for Peggy, and not now, after their celebration at one of Howard’s mansions had ended with a literal bang. An explosion, caused by a grenade, which Steve had the sense to toss out a window rather than jump on.
A very expensive window, from what she understood. Glass imported from some far off country. It’d taken a long time to put out the fires. Mr. Jarvis was quite upset over the state of a certain topiary that’d been cut to look like a zebra.
Howard was mourning the loss of all the very expensive booze he’d had lined up at the bar. The stench of liquor and gunpowder would probably linger for quite some time.
Peggy and Steve, they were more concerned about who the unexpected guests were, how they’d known to come to the mansion. And if they were both hovering over Angie, who would’ve been shot several times over if not for Peggy’s intervention, who could blame them?
Angie, apparently, who wouldn’t hold still long enough for them to fuss over her properly.
“That thing you did, Pegs, tossing him over the railing like that? That was crazy!”
Angie’s heels crunched over glass and bullet casings as she darted from one side of the room to the other. Peggy followed her, and Steve followed Peggy. Steve’s suit and tie were torn, while Peggy’s hair had come loose. She vaguely recalled using one of the pins to stab an assailant in the neck. Angie looked as beautiful and perfectly put together as she had when they left the house. It really wasn’t fair.
“And Steve,” she said, turning abruptly and forcing Peggy to step backwards, into Steve’s chest. “That thing. With the chandelier and the bottle opener. Jeez!”
“Ang, you’ve seen me fight before.”
“In news reels, with crappy picture quality. And Peggy, I never got to see you do your thing at all! I mean, some of the girls at the diner saw a bit of what happened when those idiots from D.C. tried to arrest you, but I missed out on that.”
“Must you make that sound like a bad thing? Darling, are you quite sure you’re alright?”
“What? Yeah, why not? Maybe check on Fancy later though, I think he might’ve been having a panic attack in the kitchen. But Peg, when you grabbed the one guy and threw him into the other guy…”
She went on in that vein for several minutes, describing the altercation as if they hadn’t all been part of it. There were SHIELD agents coming in to remove the unconscious suspects by the time Angie froze, in both speech and movement.
“Angie?” Peggy asked, reaching for her, thinking the shock of the day might finally have set in.
Angie ignored her, grinning madly and pointing at Steve’s chest. “You really do fight like a girl!”
This was said so loudly that most of the junior agents looked up from their cleanup work. Two of them dropped the man they’d been hauling away. There was a loud thud and a louder groan. Peggy had to snap at them to get back to work, producing a hurried chorus of “Yes, Director Carter.”
Poor Steve wore a look of utter confusion, until Angie gestured wildly between him and Peggy, eyes dancing. “I know Peg taught you to fight but…she really taught you to fight!”
Scowling, Peggy adjusted the strap of her dress, which had come loose during the scuffle. “I fail to see the revelation here.”
“Are you kidding? Captain America has the same moves as a 5’6 Brit! You think the rest of the country wouldn’t call that news?”
Angie laughed and kept laughing, her perfect appearance finally cracking as tears smeared her mascara. Unable to watch the spectacle, Peggy turned to Steve, who shifted awkwardly under her gaze. “Well? Anything to say?”
“No!” Steve promised, holding up his hands as if to ward off another blow. “Just, I guess I never thought of it like that before.”
“And?” Peggy asked, daring him to say something else.
Steve shrugged. “I…I thought you were 5’7, not 5’6.”
“Too bloody right,” Peggy murmured, planting her heel in the stomach of the nearest attacker for no particular reason as Angie continued to giggle as if she were having the time of her life.