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Peggy’s in trouble, she knows as much as soon as Angie Martinelli starts referring to her as “English” or “Sweetie” these amongst an array of other rather “cute” nicknames.
She doesn’t know how Angie persuades her to move in next door, nor does she know how Angie always seems to get her own way. It’s frustrating to say the least.
Peggy’s ability to say no seems to have withered and died along with her “no feelings” policy. Because she does feel something or some way about Angie. Peggy doesn’t dwell on it.
“English!” Peggy rolls her eyes. Think about someone long enough and they shall appear.
Angie’s shoulder bumps into Peggy’s as she falls into step beside her. Angie turns to Peggy with quite possibly the brightest smile lacing her lips. Peggy fights the urge to leap over the balcony of The Griffith right then and there. A tad dramatic perhaps.
“Good evening, Angie.” Peggy smiles over at her friend. Angie’s eyes are wide and full of excitement. Peggy Carter knows she will never truly understand the way Angie Martinelli works.
“Did you hear about Sarah?” Peggy knows she’s about to be involuntarily pulled into some kind of drama. She shakes her head.
“Two guys in one night.” Angie punctuates the end of the sentence with a judgmental smirk. Peggy just chuckles lightly and turns away from Angie as they arrive outside her room. “What ya doin’ tonight, English?”
Angie looks up at Peggy expectantly. Peggy needs some new excuses and quick.
“Um, well-”
Peggy doesn’t actually have anything to do, which, Peggy thinks, is terrifying if not slightly unnerving, because when ever has Howard Stark not been in trouble? Yes, that’s right. Never.
Angie raises an eyebrow.
“Come over, you can tell me about Mr Shoulders.” Peggy frowns.
“What?”
“You know? Mr Tall, Fancy and Shoulder-y.” Angie shrugs as if it’s common knowledge. Peggy’s jaw falls open, she intends on getting some kind of explanation out but no words seem to form. It doesn’t matter anyway because Angie’s already disappeared behind her door.
Peggy huffs and decides she needs to take a long shower. Showers are great; Peggy likes to think of them as a place where time doesn’t exist, a place where she can truly be alone. Peggy also seems to think all of her thoughts in the shower, she doesn’t choose to, it just sort of, happens that way.
After a while, Peggy thinks she should probably hop out and get ready to leave for Angie’s room. Then her mind wanders, not in a bad way, Peggy does have a shred of human decency left in her.
Peggy realizes that being friends with Angie isn’t good. She tries not to think of Colleen.
But Angie’s different, she’s like a cloud of smoke Peggy can’t breathe in, she’s everywhere. Peggy can’t help but think that she’s the one that started the flames. A blazing fire is the only thing that comes close to whatever the heck Angie Martinelli is. It’s the only thing that comes close to whatever Angie Martinelli is doing to Peggy Carter.
Peggy’s a child playing with matches. She’d love to stop but how can she when the fire’s encouraging her? Giving her kindling, pouring the accelerant. Peggy needs to stop.
She shakes her thoughts away and dresses in her nightclothes before quietly shuffling over to Angie’s door. She knocks lightly and waits.
-
It’s about a month later when Peggy realizes she can’t be Peggy Carter and Agent Carter around Angie anymore.
It doesn’t come as a surprise; really, it’s more of a long-time-coming-revelation. Peggy knows that having a life outside of- uhm, work, is vital for her cover and yes, Angie is part of that cover, but Peggy isn’t Angie’s cover and Angie demands more.
Angie has a lot of friends and by extension; Peggy’s does too, but everyone has a best friend and Peggy understands that she just so happens to be Angie’s. (Peggy wants to say Angie’s hers, but that sentence hurts her brain a little so she forgets about it.)
She doesn’t know what she’s going to do about the whole… situation.
Angie slides into the booth opposite her, a pen tangled between her fingers and a smile that Peggy wants to compare to sunshine.
“I saved you a cupcake!”
Once again, Angie strikes a match and Peggy’s covered in flames.
-
Peggy juggles it amply. She makes it another three months before anything significant happens. She sees Angie at least once a day so the waitress doesn’t start pouting and asking why “Mr Fancy gets custody ninety percent of the time.” It’s actually working pretty well, she balances the SSR, Howard Stark Clean Up Operations and Angie Martinelli almost splendidly, even if she does say so herself.
That is, until she doesn’t.
Angie surprises her in her room one day with a plate of cookies. Peggy’s mid cover up on a bruise above her left cheekbone (it’s suspiciously the same size as a fist), when Angie bounds in all smiles. Angie spots the bruise and Peggy freezes.
She’s prepared for this, she has a god damned arsenal of excuses ready, all she needs to do is light the wick then boom, immediate scapegoat.
So why isn’t she saying anything? Why aren’t her lips moving?
“Who did that?” Angie’s voice is quiet and Peggy hears a slight tremble. She thinks now would be a great time to diffuse the situation. She quickly puts down the make up and rushes past Angie to close the door. She keeps her hands on the cool wood and takes a deep breath before turning around.
“Angie-”
“I don’t want no lies, Peg.” The plate of cookies seems to have vanished; Peggy furrows her brow and searches the apartment with her eyes but sees them nowhere. (They looked good, okay?)
Angie’s standing a couple of feet away from Peggy. Peggy wishes there was more distance.
“It’s nothing, I just tripped. I-” Peggy cringes at how unconvincing she sounds.
“What did I just say?!” Angie whispers loudly and takes a step closer. Peggy folds her arms over her chest.
Peggy likes Angie okay, she likes Angie a lot but she also likes keeping her distance. Normally, it’s fine, Angie and has no boundaries when it comes to personal space but she's harmless, Peggy thinks she’s almost grown fond of it. But she doesn’t enjoy when other people invade her personal space, people that she doesn't want there, she demonstrates this by beating up men twice her size with a stapler for instance. Right now, Angie’s angry and scared and protective and Peggy’s never seen this side of her before. She doesn’t know what to do with it.
So she folds her arms, drops her gaze and bites down on her lip.
“You can tell me anything. You know that right?” Angie’s tone is softer now, sweet and caring and maybe she’s a little embarrassed about her outburst. Peggy clenches her jaw, looks up and hates herself just a little more than usual for feeling this vulnerable.
Peggy feels soft fingertips carefully scraping against the side of her face. Angie’s looking at the bruise, analyzing it. Peggy lets her. She doesn’t remember the last time she felt so small under someone’s gaze.
“Y’know, bein’ an actress teaches you a couple’a things about make up.” Angie uses her index finger to tap the end of Peggy’s nose fondly, she smiles, Peggy notes the way it doesn’t reach her eyes. Angie reaches for Peggy’s make up and gets to work.
Peggy needs Angie to hear the silent thank you she’s trying desperately to convey using only her eyes.
-
Things change after that.
Angie knocks every time before entering Peggy’s room. She even waits for Peggy to answer the door or call her in. When they’re at the automat, Angie greets her with a smile and a cup of coffee, but the silent air of concern that surrounds Angie almost deafens Peggy. The waitress starts taking care around Peggy, it’s like she’s tiptoeing around a field littered with mines. Peggy wants to tell her that she isn’t, in fact, a bomb of any kind.
Angie stops trying to tear her way into Peggy’s life.
Peggy doesn’t like it.
-
“You’re being weird.” Peggy all but slams her purse down on the automat bar. Angie’s eyebrows shoot upward in surprise, Peggy doesn’t usually come in this late, she’s about to shut up shop.
“What?” She raises her lip in confusion. Peggy rolls her eyes but powers through.
“You didn’t say a word at breakfast this morning-”
“I’d had a row with Sarah-”
“You don’t ask me to hang out anymore-”
“You’re busy, I’m busy…”
“You only ask me about my day if I ask you about yours first-”
“Sorry?” Angie shrugs but Peggy doesn’t miss the look of guilt that passes over Angie’s features. Angie turns away to place the last of the washing up in a tray. Peggy glares at Angie’s back but can’t seem to find the right words to say.
Or maybe it’s that she doesn’t want to say what she’s thinking. Which is dumb, because she likes Angie, she likes her an awful lot, Peggy’s scared she won’t be able to tell the difference between liking Angie and trusting her.
Peggy frowns at the thought of not being able to trust Angie. She grabs her purse and walks out of the automat. She needs to think, she needs to get away.
The last time she was this confused, this scared, she lost the one person that mattered to her most- still matters, still matters to her most.
Peggy has to remind herself to breathe.
She misses Steve.
-
Peggy takes a walk around the block a couple (many a couple) of times before she finally decides to head back to the automat. She secretly hopes Angie’s already left for home so she can save this conversation for another day. Yes, Peggy may be able to single handedly diffuse a bomb in her very own bathroom, but confrontation with someone she cares about? No thank you.
What she sees is less than pleasant.
Angie, outside, with her back up against the alley wall as some irrelevant male smirks and touches her shoulder. Peggy sees the look on Angie’s face, disgust and annoyance.
The world turns red and Peggy’s fingers itch for her gun.
Peggy starts walking; each step punctuated by the hate that’s simmering beneath the surface. She’s close enough to hear Angie growl out a low “stop”, Peggy kicks off one of her heels before she reaches the duo. They both notice Peggy just before she whacks the guy across the face with her shoe.
Angie gasps and watches the man go down hard.
“I’ve never killed a man with a shoe before.” Peggy raises her eyebrows while looking down at the man. He groans and gazes up at Peggy with drunken eyes. Peggy puts her shoe back on and presses her heel into the man’s hand. He yells out in pain. “There’s a first time for everything. I don’t want to see you around here again, do I make myself clear?” The man’s eyes widen and he nods frantically. With a satisfied hum, Peggy releases his hand and turns away.
“This explains a lot.” Angie purses her lips and cocks her brow playfully. Peggy grabs Angie’s arm and pulls her away from the alley. They say nothing til they’re back at The Griffith. Peggy shuts her bedroom door behind them and turns to stare impending doom in the face.
Angie stands still, she clutches tightly at her small purse and her left ankle cocks out slightly. Peggy realizes that Angie’s nervous as she chews on her bottom lip thoughtfully.
“Tell me a secret.” Peggy says quickly. Angie scrunches her brow together.
“A secret?” Peggy nods stiffly. Angie huffs out a breath and shakes her head as if trying to think of the worst thing she’s ever done. They stand in silence for almost a minute. “Listen, Peg, I’m an open book, with you anyway.” Peggy feels the fire in the back of her throat.
“Secrets aren’t my thing, English, they never lead anywhere half decent, but listen, if I had a secret, you’d be the one I’d wanna tell.” Angie cocks her head and offers Peggy a timid smile. Then her eyes light up and her mouth forms an O shape. “I do borrow pastries from the automat without permission, nobody knows ‘bout that. Stolen pastries taste better than bought ones.” Peggy humors Angie with a shake of the head.
It turns serious then. Angie hums lowly and steps towards Peggy just a little, Peggy doesn’t fold her arms this time.
“What’s goin’ on, English?” Peggy takes a deep breath and runs the statistics through her mind before opening her mouth.
“I don’t work for the telephone company.” Peggy breathes a sigh of relief and feels a flood of truths rushing to her lips. “I’m an Agent of the SSR, it’s all very hush hush.” Peggy rolls her eyes and places her hands on her hips. “It involves a lot of violence; a lot of violence towards bad men.”
“Sounds like fun.” Angie’s tone is monotonous. Peggy knows this isn’t the whole truth. Easing Angie into it will do for now.
“Wherever I go, danger never seems to be far behind and if anything happens to you…. I lose the people I love most and I don’t want to add you to that list.” Peggy sighs and finds herself looking at Angie’s shoes. “I don’t like lying to you, Angie.” Peggy tilts her head up to catch her friend’s eyes. “But I’d rather lie to you than have you killed.”
Angie cocks her head to the right and a caring smile spreads onto her lips. Peggy doesn’t know how but Angie’s made her way even closer to Peggy now. Angie puts her purse down on the desk to the left then takes Peggy’s hands with her own.
“You’re such an idiot, English.” Angie chuckles softly. “Listen, you keep your secrets, you do what you gotta do, I understand. But you really shouldn’t underestimate me; I can totally take care of myself. I was two seconds away from kneein’ that jerk right where it hurts before you showed up.” Angie squeezes and rubs her thumbs along the back of Peggy’s hands. Peggy feels something flutter in her stomach.
“Well, if I knew you were going to react like this, I would’ve told you sooner.”
“Yeah, I’m pretty cool.” Peggy rolls her eyes. “Your secret’s safe with me, Peg. Oh, and just so you know, if ya ever need back up?” Angie lets go of Peggy’s hands and jabs a thumb in her own direction. “I’d sure like to block a guy with my fist.”
Peggy just shakes her head bewildered. Of course this would happen.
Of course she would fall for the biggest loser of them all. Because that’s her type. Fantastic.
Angie taps the end of Peggy’s nose sweetly and giggles before kicking off her shoes and making herself at home on Peggy’s bed. Peggy's all too aware that Angie's more than capable of burning her down.
Peggy decides she doesn’t really mind the heat.