A Gift For Angie
Steve woke up to a scream. Angie’s. He was out of bed in a microsecond, but couldn’t move fast enough. Calling her name, he crashed into three of the spare bedrooms, destroying two of their doors before he found her.
Perfectly fine.
Wearing his shirt and nothing else. The walk-in closet was open, all the odds and ends that’d been relegated to it’s depths scattered across the room. Surrounded by the mess, Angie sat with an open package in her lap, and a ridiculous grin on her face.
Damn.
Unconsciously assuming his best Captain America pose, Steve crossed his arms over his chest. “Angie.”
Angie looked up flashing that movie star smile his way. “Thankyouthankyouthank—”
“You screamed! I thought you were hurt. Or worse!”
“Really? Thought you’d be able to tell a bad scream from a good one by now. Especially after what we just did.”
Angie’s eyes lingered meaningfully on his crotch. Only then did Steve remember that he was completely naked, which thoroughly killed any impact the Cap pose might’ve had. Shaking his head, he uncrossed his arms. Angie moved immediately, quite literally throwing herself at him, legs wrapping tight around his bare waist, arms squeezing at his neck. If not for the serum, she’d probably be choking the life out of him.
“Thank. You. So. Much. You. Are. The. Best.” The words were said between kisses as her mouth grazed his lips, his cheeks, his jaw.”
“Stop it,” Steve said half-heartedly, barely feeing her weight. He was still fighting off the panic that’d brought him here. Angie was fine. Angie was safe. He didn’t need to fend off gun-wielding assailants in the nude. Things were fine. Relatively. “Your birthday’s not for a week.”
“Don’t worry, we can still have the party and the cake. Now come on, lemme see my present again.”
Angie dug her heels into his back, as if urging on a horse. Trying very hard not to smile, Steve carried her the few feet across the room, to her ruined surprise. The box that brought on that ear-splitting shriek came straight out of his past. It contained one red, white, and blue uniform, a leftover from his USO shows. The kind the dancers used to wear.
Angie had auditioned for a spot in that group, against her father’s wishes. She didn’t make the cut, and then somehow her parents found out, meaning she caught hell. She missed no opportunity to remind Steve and Peggy of what could’ve been. What if she’d been with them overseas? What if she’d gotten to share in some of their war stories, instead of just hearing about them? It was Peggy who first realized how much it really bothered her, being separate from that part of their history. He was the one to suggest the uniform, track it down. They’d both looked forward to seeing Angie’s reaction.
Just not now, not yet. Peggy was going to kill him.
“Well, well. So this is what you get up to while I’m out earning a living.”
Damn.
Setting Angie on her feet, Steve turned around to find his executioner framed in the doorway, looking gorgeous as ever with her red lips and pencil skirt. She was also holding his pants in one hand.
“I nearly tripped over these coming up the stairs,” she said, throwing the garment to him.
“Liar,” Angie said, clutching her gift to her chest. “You don’t trip over things.”
“Yes well. If I’d come home with a bullet wound or the like. Hobbling my way up here, desperate for help, I very well might have. How would you feel then? And you. I told you to guard that with your life.”
“I did!” Wilting under her scrutiny, Steve buttoned up his fly with as much dignity as he could muster. “I tried.”
Sighing, Peggy braced for impact as Angie crashed into her. Still holding the uniform, she smothered Peggy with affection much as she had Steve. “I told you we should’ve put it in one of the SHIELD vaults. Woman’s part bloodhound, I’ll swear to it,” Peggy said, absently petting Angie’s hair.
“She…distracted me.”
“Yes, my darling. I gathered that, right around the time I was gathering your clothes.”
Finally letting up on Peggy, Angie licked kiss-swollen lips and winked at Steve. “Super whatsit formula can fix everything huh? Even Captain America falls asleep right after.”
“After round three, you mean?”
Peggy’s eyebrows quirked. “Three, really? I do hate that we can’t all have the same days off.”
“You’re the boss, English. Doesn’t that mean boss of scheduling too?”
“Yes, I suppose so. I’ll speak to someone about it tomorrow.”
“Good. You’re the boss. Know what else you are? The sweetest, most amazing, kind, thoughtful, brilliant—”
“Yes, yes, I understand. Now go try it on before you hurt yourself.”
As if she’d been waiting for the starting gun at a race, Angie dashed out of the room, realized she’d forgotten the hat that went with the outfit, and dashed back. Before exiting a second time, she made sure to kiss both Peggy and Steve. Hard.
While Peggy wiped at smudged lipstick, Steve crossed to her, massive shoulders hunched slightly. “I really did try to keep it from her.”
“I know,” said Peggy, winding her arms around his neck. “It was my fault, really. I shouldn’t have expected you to understand the depths of her deviousness. You weren’t here for the Christmas of ’47.”
Unfortunately, he’d spent that holiday, a white Christmas, so he’d heard, frozen in ice. “What happened in ’47?”
Peggy grimaced. Shuddered. “I underestimated the depths of her deviousness. Never again, Steve. Never again.”
“What—”
Peggy shushed him, fingers on his lips. “Ask me in the dead of summer. Preferably after I’ve had a few drinks. Until then, let’s go downstairs. The surprise may be wrecked, but I still expect to get a show out of it.”
They went downstairs, Steve grabbing a shirt on the way, though Peggy insisted it wasn’t necessary. . After a few minutes of waiting on the couch, they were joined by Angie, descending the stairs and entering the room with a dancer’s poise.
Steve swallowed hard, felt Peggy’s hand on his thigh go tight. Who the hell had turned Angie down for this job?
“It’s quite a bit shorter than I remembered,” Peggy said as Angie bustled toward the record player.
“Yeah,” Steve replied, throat a little dry as he appreciated the view.
You could still buy copies of the music from those terrible shows. Steve had to fight long and hard to keep Peggy from adding one to the gift. He’d won, barely, so Angie had to settle for Glenn Miller as her musical accompaniment. Steve and Peggy clapped enthusiastically as the strains of ‘In the Mood’ filled the parlor, clapped louder as Angie started to move.
“Angie, love. In case I haven’t told you recently, those high kicks of yours are flawless.”
“Thanks, Peg! Let’s see if you think the same about my singing.”
Steve would’ve reminded her that they’d heard her sing countless times, that her talent was in absolutely no doubt. She began attacking the song with her usual gusto before he could.
“Who’s strong and brave, here to save the American way?”
“Oh no.”
“Hush, Steve.”
“Peggy, not this song.”
“Which did you expect?”
“The music doesn’t match.”
“And whose fault is that? Now be a dear and shut up, I’m enjoying a performance.”
Steve did too. Eventually. He still maintained that the goose-stepping-goons lyric was awful, but not nearly as bad when it came from Angie’s mouth. It helped that she was still doing those kicks. Then she paused her rendition, pointed at him, and made a request.
“Angie…”
“Come on. You know you want to.”
“I really don’t.”
“Come on. You know what it’s like in those tough crowds who won’t go with the program. You don’t wanna make things tough on me, do you?”
Peggy leaned in close, breathing her words into his ear. “Remember that talk we had about selfish gifts? You play along now, she’ll play along later, and unlike you, I haven’t had three rounds of anything stronger than coffee. So be a good soldier and follow orders, won’t you love?”
She was breathing in his ear, and her hand had drifted somewhere other than his leg. “Series E defense bonds! Each one you buy is a bullet in the barrel of your best guy’s gun!”
The old words came back to him disturbingly fast. He delivered them with far more enthusiasm than he ever had onstage. And indeed, he was rewarded for it later.