Pregnant Angie
“Yeah, Ma. Yes. Yes! Sono incinta. Yes!”
Steve and Peggy exchanged wary glances as Angie spoke to her mother. Yelled, really.
“No, no you don’t have to come home. Ma…Ma! I’m barely a month along, you ain’t gonna miss anything if you stay another couple weeks.”
Steve fidgeted. Telling the Martinellis by phone wasn’t ideal, but they were visiting family in Italy, a trip Angie begged out of due to her acting commitments. She insisted it would be better to break the news over a terrible phone connection than have her mother think they’d been withholding the information.
“What?” Angie shook the phone, as if that would improve the reception. “Yes it was planned! Well, not plan-planned, but not-not planned. Stop yelling, Ma!”
Angie switched into a litany of rapid fire Italian. Steve looked at Peggy. “You think she’s upset?”
“Hard to say. Loud doesn’t always mean anger with them.” Peggy paused, frowning. “Though sometimes it does.”
Angie thrust the phone at Steve. Her hand over the receiver did nothing to quiet the stream of Italian emanating from it. “Ma wants to talk to you.”
Again, Steve looked at Peggy, who shifted away from him on the couch. “Go on then, this isn’t my doing.”
Biting back a retort about leaving men behind during battle, Steve took the phone. “Mrs. Martinelli? Hi, how are…could you…would you mind switching back to English, my Italian’s still a little…yes. Of course. No, of course the baby will learn Italian. Right. Baptism? Well, we just found out yesterday, I guess we haven’t thought that far ahead.”
Angie made frantic motions with her arms, shaking her head wildly.
“What was…oh. No, Mrs. Martinelli, we would’ve called yesterday, but we thought with the time difference…it was very late yesterday. Really, more like this morning when we heard.”
While Angie rolled her eyes and threw her hands skyward, Steve fought off a bout of nausea.
***
Peggy grimaced at the noises coming from the nearest bathroom. Taking a glass from the kitchen, she followed the sounds of Angie retching. Steve had just left for headquarters, and she was working from home. Angie seemed fine just before the phone in her study rang, signaling a call from the office. She didn’t want to think of how long Angie had suffered alone.
Her guilt wasn’t helped by the sight of Angie slumped over the toilet, shaking and sweaty. Cursing to herself, Peggy grabbed a washcloth, wet it in the sink, then dropped to Angie’s level. Pulling her curls back with one hand, she used the other to settle the cloth at the back of Angie’s neck.
She murmured nonsense words, rubbed circles on Angie’s back until the latest bout finally passed, leaving her spent and shivering.
“Scram, Peg,” Angie ordered, with absolutely no force. “You don’t gotta see this.”
“Don’t be absurd,” Peggy replied, rising long enough to fill the glass she’d left sitting on the sink.
“I look like hell.”
“You look like the woman I love. Besides, sickness and health and all that. Drink, darling. Slowly.”
Angie did, letting Peggy help her clean up and get back on her feet. “Tellin you, English,” she said as Peggy led her to the couch, a protective arm across her shoulders, “this kid ain’t happy with his accommodations. Why else would he torture me like this? What’s so bad about bein inside me, huh?”
“Not a thing. I never tire of being inside you.”
Angie half-smirked, half-glared as she dropped to the sofa. “Never thought I’d say this, but not a good time to hit on me, Peg.”
“Sorry. Force of habit.”
Waving off the apology, Angie curled up on her side, settling her head in Peggy’s lap and rubbing fitfully at her stomach. “Tell our little bundle of joy to behave, will you?”
Peggy reached over to replace Angie’s hand with her own, stroking the still-flat place that somehow, miraculously, housed a child. “Enough of that, little one. Let your mother rest.”
“You can’t say it like that. Use your scary Army voice.”
“We’ll try that next time, I promise.”
“Deal.” Breathing out, Angie moved so she was lying on her back, looking up at Peggy. “You don’t gotta do this, you know, you and Steve taking shifts to fuss over me. Kid’s not gonna fall out the minute I’m left alone.”
“Let’s not jinx anything, all right? Besides, Steve and I quite agree that you should be fussed over as much as possible.”
Peggy had resumed rubbing her stomach. With a slow quirk of the lips, Angie watched the action, catching Peggy’s other hand in hers. “I’m just sayin, you don’t have to take care of me all the time.”
“I’m well aware. But I’d be grateful if you’d let me do it anyway.”
Bringing their joined hands to her lips, Angie kissed Peggy’s knuckles. “Deal. You know, English, lots of girls don’t have anyone to hover over them when they get like this. Daddy’s long gone, with an unlisted number. Me and the little one, we got two amazing people doin it. I figure that makes us pretty damn lucky.”
***
“Will you two back off and quit hovering? God!”
Steve and Peggy trailed Angie as she threw down her hairbrush and exited the bedroom. “Honey,” Steve began.
“Don’t you honey me, honey. I’m goin to work, and that’s that.”
“We understand,” said Peggy, following her down the stairs. “It’s just…the baby—”
Spinning abruptly, Angie pointed to her stomach. “Is fine. Totally fine! Hey kid, if you’re fine, don’t do anything. See, all fine.”
“Fine. Good,” said Steve as Angie resumed her descent. “We just want to keep it that way, Ang.”
“Make sure you don’t overdo it,” Peggy added.
“Seriously?” Angie asked, storming toward the kitchen. “It’s a radio show. I sit in a chair and talk for an hour, what’s there to overdo?”
“We get it,” said Steve. “But if anything…if it gets to be too much…”
“Don’t worry, Steve. The minute the air conditioning hits me the wrong way, I’ll make them stop the live broadcast, because my girlfriend the super spy and my boyfriend Captain America don’t want me gettin chilled. Better yet, I’ll announce it on air, so everybody knows why their program’s gettin interrupted. Would that make you two happy?”
Steve and Peggy glanced at each other. Peggy answered. “That’s…not quite what we meant.”
“Then what?” Angie pressed, snatching her car keys from the bowl on the counter. “What exactly do you mean? Did you talk to Howard about building me a nice, safe plastic bubble to hide in until the baby shows up?”
They looked at each other again. Steve blushed.
“Really? I was kidding!” Shaking her head, Angie crossed into the foyer, grabbing her coat from the hook near the door. “I’m leaving now. You two lunatics are gonna stay here and do I don’t care what. Save the world, blow something up, I don’t care, just stay away from me and the kid!”
Peggy bit her lip. Steve fidgeted. “Love you,” he said rather weakly.
“Love you too, now stop already!” Angie demanded before taking her leave and slamming the door behind her.
***
“Don’t stop,” Angie whimpered, clawing at the sheets. “Don’t…don’t you dare stop.”
“No,” Peggy agreed, dropping kisses on the swell of Angie’s stomach while her fingers moved in and out. “Never, darling, never until you’re ready.”
It was hard to concentrate, much less form words with Steve behind her, doing what he was doing, but Peggy had learned how to multitask quite well in these situations. Occasionally she’d bring her mouth lower, enjoy the feel of Angie’s clit against her tongue. She kept coming back to her stomach, though. Angie had recently grown self-conscious about the pregnancy and it’s effect on her body, and that simply wouldn’t do. “You are exceedingly gorgeous,” Peggy said, murmuring into Angie’s skin. “More now than ever.”
Steve, who’d taken his turn at showing Angie this already, made an agreeable sort of noise. Angie told her again to keep going, almost begged, so Peggy curled her fingers inside, stroking Angie’s most sensitive area with her thumb. Intent as she was on holding Angie’s gaze, making her understand, Peggy had to close her eyes. Between Angie’s reactions to what she did, and what Steve was doing to her, she was…she couldn’t…
“Stop! Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop!”
Angie’s cries made her jump. Pulling back too fast, her skull collided with Steve’s face. “Bloody fucking hell!” she hissed, stars dancing in her vision as Steve…dislodged himself. “Angie! God, have I hurt you? Sweetheart—”
“Ang,” said Steve, voice strained and panicked. “Angie—”
“The baby kicked!”
A moment of silence followed. Peggy used it to withdraw her hand as carefully as possible while gauging the likelihood of a concussion.
“He…she…now?” Steve asked.
“Yes now!”
Groping in the dark, Angie switched on the bedside lamp. Blinking at the sudden change (and the spots still flickering before her eyes), Peggy glanced back to find Steve pinching his nose, which was bleeding.
“Wait, he stopped.” Angie looked positively crestfallen, only for a moment. “No, she started again! Steve, get over here!”
Moving with far less grace than usual, he did, wiping blood off on the comforter just before Angie yanked at his hand to place it on her stomach. “Oh God. Peggy, she’s right.”
“Well yeah! What’d you think it was, indigestion? Peggy, come on!”
Still rather dazed, Peggy wiped her own fingers clean on the duvet.
It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy the moment. How could she not? She was just having trouble communicating that to Angie a few minutes later.
“Jesus, Peg, it ain’t like Junior or Juniette knows what we were doing.”
“You can’t be certain of that.”
“Yeah? Do you remember your parents—”
“Stop.”
“I mean—”
“Don’t.”
“You think they lived like monks while you were—”
“My parents were British. As far as I’m concerned, they…joined together only for procreational purposes. Once that goal was met, there would’ve been no need for…more of that.”
“You’re British, English. Think about your theory. Think about what we were just doing.”
“Angie, thinking of my parents and my child while considering our recent activities is the very last—”
“Will you relax? Steve, tell her to relax.”
Steve, who’d stopped bleeding by then, mumbled something unintelligible.
Despite these valiant attempts at reassurance, Peggy still found herself tossing and turning long after Steve and Angie drifted off. Careful not to wake her, Peggy laid a hand on Angie’s stomach. “I,” she whispered, uncharacteristically lost. “I love you very, very much. And about earlier…sorry for disturbing you.”
***
Her work being what it was, Peggy was used to having her sleep disturbed unexpectedly. That didn’t make the occurrences any less frustrating.
“Peg?”
She kept her eyes closed. She could be dreaming. She often dreamt of Angie. There was a very good possibility that she was dreaming.
“Peggy, you awake?”
She sincerely hoped not.
“English?”
Someone was poking gingerly at her side. Definitely awake then. Shite. “Everything all right, darling?”
“Sure, English. Did I wake you?”
“Whatever would give you that idea? Was there something you needed?”
“Kinda. I’m hungry, and I think Steve’s in another sleep coma.”
Sighing, Peggy threw an arm over her face. “I’ll get something from the kitchen then, shall I?”
“That’s the thing. I could go for a bagel. You want a bagel? I don’t think we have any bagels.”
“I…what time is it?”
“Late side of early,” Angie hedged. “It’s not my fault, Pegs. The kid, he wants bagels.”
“Of course he does.” Rolling to her other side, Peggy absently shook the lump of blanket next to her. “Steve?”
“I tried that. Sleep coma.”
“Right.” Half-sitting up, Peggy briefly carressed Angie’s stomach. “My apologies if this startles you.” After warning the child, Peggy turned back to Steve, leaning down closer and clearing her throat. “Private! Get your sorry arse in gear! You think the Nazis will wait around while you finish your afternoon nap? Move!”
The bed shook as Steve shot awake, nearly hitting the floor.
“Your child needs you,” said Peggy, slumping back onto the mattress.
The bedside lamp clicked on a moment later, bathing them in soft light. Steve squinted at Angie, studying her middle as if assuring himself that the baby hadn’t changed residences. “Huh?”
Angie explained about the bagels, and thanked Peggy for waking him. Peggy grunted acknowledgment and readjusted the comforter.
“You want bagels. Now?”
“Not me,” Angie replied. “I don’t even like the things, usually. It’s the kid. I think she inherited your metabolism.”
Steve nodded rather blankly. “Where am I supposed to find bagels at this hour?”
Angie shrugged, smiling. “You and English found all kinds of secret Hydra bases back in the day.”
“We had maps.”
“Your kid is starving to death here, and you wanna talk about maps?”
Realizing that something had to be done, Peggy sat up, crawling over Steve and ignoring the sound of protest as her knee connected with his stomach. Picking up the phone on the nightstand, Peggy dialed a familiar number, propping her head on her elbow, and her elbow in the middle of Steve’s chest. She sat through eight rings before the line was picked up. “Mr. Jarvis? Yes, yes I know. I know. It’s past my bedtime as well, man. Listen, you’re used to indulging the appetites of a helpless child at all hours of the night, yes? Yes I mean Howard, who the bloody…never mind. I’m in dire need of a bakery. Yes. Right. Bagels this time. Oh no, Steve can pick them up, I shouldn’t like to disturb you. You’re a godsend. Apologize to Anna for me? Thank you. Yes. Pleasant dreams to you as well, Mr. Jarvis.” Dropping the receiver in it’s cradle, Peggy rattled off an address. “There you are,” she told Steve, rolling over to face the other way.
“Thanks?” Steve said, more question than statement. Peggy closed her eyes as he got up, distantly aware of Angie thanking him profusely, and reminding him to put shoes on. He kissed them both in a drowsy sort of way before switching the light off and leaving the room.
She was very close to a blessed return to oblivion when Angie’s hand slid across her shoulder. “Thanks, English.”
Peggy hummed into the pillow. “Anything for you, love.”
“Yeah, about that.”
Peggy opened her eyes. Very, very reluctantly.
“You think you could catch Steve before he leaves? I was thinkin we might like some donuts in the morning.”
Stifling a groan, Peggy threw the covers back, giving up on the possibility of ever getting sleep again.
***
“I give up,” Angie declared. “This is impossible, so I give up.”
“Splendid,” Peggy said, setting her tea down and joining her loves on one of the library couches. “The child’s not even here yet, and we’ve already thrown in the towel. The little one will be so blessed to benefit from our parenting skills.”
“Says the one who ran out,” Steve replied, drumming a pencil on the notepad in his lap. “I’ve never seen you take that long to make one cup of tea.”
“Perhaps I needed the fortification. I’ve negotiated peace treaties with hostile nations and had an easier time of it.”
“Well jeez, English, if you would quit shootin down all our suggestions.”
“They deserved a good shooting. I was being merciful in putting them out of their misery.”
“And you say I’m dramatic.”
“You both are,” said Peggy, squeezing Steve’s forearm to make her point. “Terribly so. And speaking of terrible, are you really going to tell me that you fools haven’t been suggesting the most archaically British names you could think of, just to irritate me?”
Steve raised his eyebrows. “So we’ve moved on from baby names to conspiracy theories?”
Peggy took the paper from him, clearing her throat before reading. “Byron, Emory, Harlan, Jasper, Faye, Hazel, Hattie, need I go on?”
“They’re good names,” said Angie. “You really think we thought all of them up just to annoy you?”
“Goodness, you’re right. What was I thinking, giving you credit for doing that on your own?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, English.”
“I found the book darling. On the table by the nonfiction section, as I stepped out to get away from the madness. British Names Through the Ages, ring any bells?”
Steve shot Angie a look. “I thought you put it away.”
“I thought I did put it away. Musta got distracted, with little Hattie crushing my bladder all the time.”
“We’re not naming the child Hattie,” Peggy stated.
Angie made a face. “Well obviously. Oh well, Soldier. Fun while it lasted.”
Peggy shook her head. “Children having children.”
“What about Mary?” Steve asked.
“It has a ring,” said Peggy. To Angie, “Your parents would be pleased, a good Catholic name.”
“No,” said Angie.
Steve frowned. “What’s wrong with Mary?”
“This Mary,” she said, indicating her stomach, “nothin. There was just this minor incident where my folks caught me and Mary Fiorello doin some very un-Catholic things in our pantry one day—”
“The pantry?” Peggy repeated. “I’ve crawled through ventilation shafts with more room to move. What could you possibly have done?”
“Enough that Mary and I both had fifty Hail Mary’s to plow through that night. It was before Ma came around, you know. Mrs. Fiorello, she never did. Think she might’ve dumped some holy water on Mary the week after it happened, but I can’t remember.”
“Oh,” Peggy said, sharing a glance with Steve. “Well then, Mary’s off the table.”
“Very,” Steve said, making a note on the list.
“Hey,” said Angie, eyes dancing. “If it’s a girl, we could call her Peggy Junior.”
“No,” said Peggy, “no we could not.”
“Margaret Junior?” Angie suggested.
“I’m sorry. Did we at some point agree to torture our daughter before she’s even left the womb? Must’ve missed that bit.”
“What’s wrong with naming our kid after you?” Steve asked, studying her with open adoration. “Or Angie, for that matter?”
“And yet you vetoed Steve for a boy,” Angie replied.
“Everyone knows that name, Ang. It’s got so much weight attached, weight it doesn’t deserve. If we have a son, I want him to be his own person, not Captain America’s namesake.”
“It’s a fine name, darling,” Peggy murmured, stroking his cheek. “That weight is honor, and our son would be lucky to carry it with him.”
“She’s right, Soldier,” Angie said, squeezing his knee. “As usual.”
Slipping an arm around Angie, Steve kissed Peggy’s forehead, gently retrieving the pad of paper. “It’s still off the list,” he said with a smile.
“Very well,” Peggy replied, affecting a tone of exhaustion that wasn’t entirely false. “What’s next then?”
“Oh God,” Angie muttered, sinking further into the couch and hiding her face against Steve’s chest. “I just remembered. I may have promised we’d name our firstborn after Dugan.”
Steve blinked repeatedly. “Say again?”
“I’m not actually sure. The Commandos were in town, there was liquor flowing, I was losing at poker…it’s all a little hazy.”
“Hopefully for him as well,” Peggy said.
“Sorry, guys. It seemed like a really good idea at the time.”
“I’m certain, darling. Ah well, as long as there’s no written contract.”
“And even if there is,” Steve said, “Howard’s lawyers could probably tear through it in a heartbeat.”
“See, no harm done. Now, since Dum Dum Rogers is no longer threatening us…”
“What about James?” Angie asked, voice much softer than before as she regarded Steve, who stayed silent.
“I must admit, I’ve been waiting for that one. Is there a reason you haven’t suggested it, love?”
Offering a weak smile, Steve kissed Peggy’s shoulder, lacing his fingers with Angie’s where they rested on his knee. “Didn’t want to seem selfish, I guess. And Bucky, I couldn’t handle saying that name every day, but he always hated James. Threatened to clean my clock every time I used it, which was ironic, since he was the only guy in the neighborhood who never did beat me up.”
“Steve, you dope. You don’t have a selfish bone in your body. And as for the name, he can be a James but go by Jamie, or Jack, or something. Or we could use his initials, depending on what we choose for a middle name.”
Peggy held up a hand. “I agree, but please. No middle names, not yet. I don’t have the strength.”
Steve, eyes brighter than usual, kissed them both, whispering his thanks. Afterward, he seemed to make a conscious effort at lightening the mood. “Well, two hours, three sheets of paper, and the most we’ve gotten is some form of James.”
Peggy grimaced. “It’s even more depressing when said aloud, isn’t it?”
Angie nodded. “I’m guessin we can’t just pick names out of a hat?”
***
“Come on, English. You know I hate guessing games.”
“Do you?” Peggy asked, keeping a hand over Angie’s eyes and guiding her through the hallway. “Shall I remove that blindfold from the bedside drawer then?”
Angie swatted half-heartedly at the fingers blocking her view. “Shut up, Peggy.”
“As I thought. Watch your step here.”
“Kinda hard to do with your hand in my face.”
“Behave yourself and I’ll consider moving my hand somewhere lower. Later tonight.”
“Does that offer only apply to her?”
“Soldier? What the hell is this?”
“What do you think, Steve? Should we show her?”
“I think we should.”
With that, Peggy raised her hand, watching Angie’s eyes go wide as she took in the scene. They were standing on the threshold of what used to be a guest bedroom. In the few hours Angie had been shopping with Anna Jarvis, Steve had transformed it into a nursery. Crib, mobile, the seemingly endless supply of odds and ends they’d acquired for the baby. He stood in the middle of the room, clothes stained with the light blue paint that covered the walls. There was also a bit of it on his cheek and left ear, which made him look rather adorable. He grinned bashfully as Angie saw the full extent of his handiwork.
The newly-painted walls were covered in various framed drawings. A circus scene, jungle animals, a rendering of the New York skyline, ships chasing each other across the ocean, among others. Angie’s mouth dropped open.
“It was Peggy’s idea,” Steve explained. “Since you were having trouble deciding on a theme—”
“Steve gave you a bit of all of them, until he or she forms their own opinion on the subject. Besides, I think we’ve established that not settling for a single option can be quite rewarding.”
“You guys,” Angie said, shaking her head in amazement, “I can’t believe you did all this.”
Peggy smiled softly, rubbing absent patterns over the small of Angie’s back. “Howard assisted, in his own way. That paint is apparently very quick to dry, quicker than normal. He developed a batch that changes color every hour or so, but I gave that a miss, thought it best not to risk confusing the baby. Hope you don’t mind.”
“Mind,” Angie repeated, as if it was the most ridiculous syllable she’d ever heard. “C’mere, Steve.”
“I’m a mess,” he said, indicating his mussed hair and stained work clothes.”
“Get over here, Soldier. Now.”
Saluting her, Steve listened. When he was within arm’s reach, Angie pulled him and Peggy both into a hug, one arm around each.
“I take it you’re pleased,” Peggy drawled, kissing Angie’s cheek.
“You kiddin? Never thought I could be this happy. And the best, craziest part is that it’s only going to get better.”
***
“I’m miserable. A fat, miserable blob of misery.”
“You’re not fat,” Peggy said firmly.
“I’m as big as a house.”
“Yeah,” said Howard. “But not a big house. Ten bedrooms, at most.”
Angie groaned. They were eating a late lunch on the terrace. Angie sat across from Steve, her feet stretched out in his lap. Peggy was next to Howard, her plate pushed aside, a stack of field reports in its place. She was marking them with a pen, had threatened to stab her SHIELD co-founder with it three times in the last half hour. This time she brought the point down millimeters from Howard’s index finger, without looking up from her paperwork.
“Jeez.” Howard snatched his hand away. “I was agreeing with you. Thought the gal who’s actually pregnant is supposed to be the hormonal one.”
“She’s going to kill you,” said Steve. “Don’t expect me to try stopping her.”
“Thank you, darling. He’s much smarter than that,” Peggy added.
“Well Howard, if you’re gonna whine about my hormones, you better get used to it. Clearly I’m gonna be like this forever. I’ll have to join a sideshow.” Angie gestured with her hands as if seeing the words on a marquee. “Come see the perpetually pregnant woman! Only ten cents a person, kids get in free. It’s funny because she’ll never have any kids, because she’ll always be pregnant!”
Shrugging, Howard popped a handful of grapes in his mouth. “You’ll get some fame out of it at least.”
“Don’t you have a home of your own? Several, actually?” Peggy asked, finally putting aside her files.
“Indeed I do, Peg. Quite a few.”
“Good. What say you get out of mine and go back to one of them?”
“But none of those places have you. My best friends, who always make me feel so welcome.”
“This is all your fault,” said Angie, kicking Steve’s thigh. “You’re late for everything, and you passed it on to the kid, and now she doesn’t care that she was supposed to vacate the premises two weeks ago. Tellin you, Peg, you shoulda been the one to knock me up. Your kid, she’d be out right on time, probably a couple minutes early, already knowin the proper way to hold a teacup.”
“Or a gun,” Steve muttered, massaging the arch of Angie’s left foot.
“I could help you out with that.” Howard leaned forward in his chair. “Give me a few years. By the time James or Lizzie hits kindergarten, you won’t even need Steve’s help. He can move out, you two can take care of the procreational stuff on your own, and if you ever need any help with the recreational—”
“If it’s a girl, she’s Elizabeth to you. Now stop trying to take over my life, okay Howard?”
“I’m just messing with you, buddy. Truth be told, I come here because you and these lovely ladies make me think about things.”
“Oh God,” said Angie. “Nothin good ever comes from that.”
Howard went on as if there’d been no interruption. “I see what you’ve got. The stability, the trust, baby on the way, and I think…thank God I’m not you.”
“What a coincidence,” Peggy said. “Whenever I look at Steve or Angie, my first thought is, thank God you aren’t Howard.”
“You still haven’t appointed me godfather. You’re busy, lots of preparations, I’m sure it’s just an oversight. Just reminding you, before the rugrat makes an appearance.” Howard popped a few more grapes in his mouth.
Angie sucked in a harsh breath, clutching at her stomach. “Funny you should mention that.”
Steve went very pale. “Are you…is the baby…now?”
Angie nodded, wincing.
Howard choked, causing half-chewed foodstuffs to land all over Peggy’s files. Wheezing, he pushed back from the table, nearly losing his footing in his haste to get up. “Shit. I…yeah. I should leave. Family time and all that.” He patted Angie gingerly on the shoulder. “Break a leg, kid. Good luck with the…with everything.”
“You sure you don’t wanna come to the hospital with us, Howard? Oh! Ow. Pain, pain, so much pain.”
Howard shook his head rather violently, backtracking toward the exit. “Nah, I’m good. Drive safe, everyone. I’ll have Jarvis send flowers!”
The screech of Howard’s tires was heard in record time.
Steve and Peggy were both on their feet, on either side of Angie. “Right. Yes. Steve, get the bag. You packed the bag, didn’t you?”
“Of course I packed the bag. It’s…in the bedroom.”
“Is that a statement or a question?”
“It’s in one of the bedrooms.”
“One of ? Good Lord. Well, go find the bloody thing. I’ll…’
“Car.”
“Right, yes, car. Hospital. All right, darling, keep calm.”
“Peg—”
“Shhh, just…everything will be fine. Up you get, nice and easy.” Peggy took hold of Angie’s arm.
“Let me help,” Steve said, taking her other arm.
“I’ve got her, Steve, you go get the bag.”
“I think getting Angie’s a bit more important than getting the damn bag.”
“I am perfectly capable—”
“Peg. Steve—”
“I’m not saying you aren’t, I just want to make sure—”
“ENGLISH! SOLDIER! Let go of me and shut up a minute.”
Steve and Peggy both jumped. They let go.
“It’s fine, we don’t have to go anywhere.”
Steve swallowed audibly. “Ang, I know you’re not a fan of hospitals, but—”
“Shut up, Steve. The kid ain’t on his way out.”
Utter bafflement was not a common look for Peggy. “What?”
“I’m not havin the baby. I just said that so Howard would leave. You two really need to calm down. This rate, I’ll be drivin you to the hospital when the real thing happens.”
Steve stared at her for a long moment. He then collapsed into one of the chairs and let loose a string of curses that would tarnish the squeaky clean image of Captain America.
“Don’t speak that way around the baby,” Peggy said, voice much weaker than usual. Then she entered the house, poured a shot of the first thing she found in the liquor cabinet. and screamed loud enough to be heard quite clearly from outside.