Chapter Text
The Griffith Hotel had never had never felt quite as transitory as its name implied in the way it did right at this moment.
Angie gets lost in her musings as she looks around the room that had been her home for the last few years. It was strange how empty the place seemed devoid of personal belongings. Carol had just taken the last suitcase containing Angie's belongings, making sure to usher along the rest of the girls who'd come to help with move out, giving Angie a minute to herself.
It was a different kind of bare than when she first lay eyes on the room while moving in. Angie realized it wasn't the room but something within in her that had shifted.
Truthfully Angie never figured she'd be moving out of The Griffth so soon.
In her darker moments, after an exceptionally bad audition, she imagined growing old here. Stepping into Ms. Fry's shoes when the old bat croaked, imposing curfew and kicking out poor unfortunate souls for sneakin' fellas into their rooms.
She would miss the place but it was hard to be completely broken up about leaving when she was doing so to move in with Peggy Carter.
There's several bruises forming from the amount of times she's pinched herself just to make sure she ain' t dreaming. She resists the urge to pinch herself yet again. After all if this is a dream she doesn't particularly want to wake up.
Having finished a final circuit around the room Angie steps out of the door, locking it behind her for the last time. Mr. Fancy was waiting downstairs loading both hers and the remainder of Peggy's things into the car since the no-men above the first floor rule was being firmly enforced once again.
Peggy herself had slipped out of bed early that morning, dropping a kiss on a still sleeping Angie's cheek.
Angie awoke to what smelled like fresh coffee, bacon and suspiciously not-powdered eggs. She had instinctively reached over searching for the body she spent the night entwined with only to come up empty, sheets already cold. Her panic never fully formed as a rhythmic pacing filtered across her senses. She rolled over blinking the sleep from her eyes to take in the sight of a fully made up Peggy Carter wearing a hole in her floor.
Four steps forward an impressively crisp turn then six steps back. Peggy even paced nervously like a solider, Angie could practically hear the For'd Harch, About Turn Harch as Peggy marched to and fro across the floor.
A mischievous smile bloomed across Angie's face. She waited until Peggy's body followed her heel in one smooth motion, back now facing away from Angie who quietly leveled herself into a sitting position.
Angie took a deep breath interrupting Peggy three steps into her six step pattern to bellow “A-TEN-HUT. ABOUT HACE.”
Peggy snapped to attention immediately, her right foot stepping back swiftly as she pivots around to once again face Angie, shoulders back, chin up, chest out, arms positioned just so at her sides.
Angie catches the exact moment Peggy registers her surroundings are a room at the Griffith and not in any way military affiliated. Her expressionless face melting into brief confusion, eyes wide as Angie dissolves into a fit of laughter. Peggy's eyes narrow as she realizes exactly what just happened which causes Angie to clutch at her sides, accidentally falling off of the bed from the force of her cackling.
Angie doesn't bother moving, aside from gently reaching up to wipe at the few tears that had gathered during her outburst. She angles her head farther back to take in a still glowering Peggy whose hands are planted firmly on her hips as she stares down looming above Angie.
The glower turns to a pout when Angie proves not to be the least bit intimated, choosing to simply grin up at Peggy. Peggy valiantly fights the smile threatening to break through her facade but when the left corner of her mouth twitches ever so slightly Angie points and crows and Peggy- well Peggy finds a fight she doesn't much mind losing.
She reaches down a hand to Angie who accepts the assist mindful of Peggy's ribs. She drapes herself loosely over Peggy, allowing her head to rest lightly on Peggy's chest.
“So what's got you up runnin' drills at o'dark-thirty English?”
“Really, Angie? The sun's been up for well over an hour.” Angie pulled back from her comfortable spot in order to look more effectively unimpressed.
“It'searly Pegs.” She huffed out. “and that was a sad attempt at changin' the subject.”
“I brought you breakfast?” Peggy sounded so hopeful that Angie almost felt bad about her pointed comment.
Angie opts to snag a a piece of bacon and some coffee instead of dwelling. She watches Peggy continue to uncharacteristically fidget for a bit eventually deciding to intervene before Peggy managed to sprain something.
“This is real sweet of ya but come sit? Don't much like eatin' alone.” Angie was happy to see some of the tension bleed from Peggy's shoulders. She reached over grasping Peggy's hand content to make her way through the still warm food while Peggy worked up to whatever she had to say.
“So I've- ah- spoken to a friend of mine, Howard and well the thing is-uhm I may have mentioned that-” Peggy trailed off glaring a hole in the table as if it were personally responsible for her inability to harness the simplicity of coherent speech. It was happening all to often around Angie and Peggy did not like it.
She tried a a different approach.
“Do you remember when I was looking for apartments and went to see one that was recommended through a friend?”
“Sure I do, asked you if you were reading the right kind of want ads. I was only kiddin' mind but it mighta put another check mark in the probably a hooker column.”
“Yes well I spo-wait I'm sorry-did you just -another mark in thewhat?” Angie had the decency to look a bit sheepish.
“Well I mean I knew ya didn't work at the phone company, plus you have such a...commandin' presence and ya did exhibit a fair amount'a shady behavior. Not to mention you're very attractive, I mean I know I've mentioned the legs before, English.”
“So you thought I was a prostitute?” Angie tried not to wince as Peggy somehow managed to inflict a shrill uptick while simultaneously hissing out the word prostitute. Angie was actually impressed, she'd have to ask how Peggy did that. At a more appropriate time.
In retrospect Angie should've skipped the hooker assumption altogether, unlike the rest of her friends Angie had been to basic. She should have easily recognized the signs. She supposed she did even if it took her being confronted by certain boneheads to fully realize it. It's just Peggy had seemed far too classy to have been mucking about with soldiers. Of course by now Angie had realized just how off she had been. She just hoped she could properly explain it to Peggy.
“Yes? But like a real high class call-girl all swanky and caterin' to the elite like rich people and politicians ya know.” Angie winced a little, that was not the reassuring clarification she was aiming for.
Peggy for her part did not seem to be at all comforted by the high caliber of her imaginary clientele as a sex worker. Not that she thought there was anything inherently wrong with working in 'the world's oldest profession' It just irked her that of all the suspect activities she may have been involved in prostitution was the forgone conclusion. She might feel slightly better about it if she thought the assumption boiled down to her skill as asecret agent rather then a deeply ingrained gender bias.
Angie's voice broke through Peggy's thoughts slightly louder than intended due to nerves over Peggy's growing silence.
“Hey! Did ya know ya talk in your sleep?” Peggy blinked owlishly thrown by what she assumed was an extremely unsubtle non-sequitur.
“I'm fairly certain I do not.” Surely someone would have mentioned it in all her years of close quarter bunking from boarding school to the trenches.
Angie leaned in close, warm breath ghosting over the shell of Peggy's ear, “ I'd go anywhere with you Pegs but ask me again in the mornin' okay.”
Peggy turned bright red as the memory of her sleepy mumbling returned to her. Angie's seemingly random statement suddenly making much more sense.
“So does that lovely shade of red you're wearin' mean ya recollect what I'm talkin' about.” Angie teased not bothering to temper her mega-watt smile.
Desperate to reclaim some semblance of dignity but secretly relieved the conversation had come full circle and more importantly to the heart of the question she was trying to get out Peggy simply asked,
“So is that a yes then Miss Martinelli?”
“Hmmm, I dunno honey I still don't recall actually havin' been asked a question.” Peggy narrowed her eyes playfully.
“Angela Teresa Martinelli, I humbly inquire if would you do me the immense honor of becoming my flatmate?”
“Well that just ain't fair Carter how's a girl supposed ta say no to such a charming proposition.” Angie sees the flicker of doubt before Peggy can shutter away the emotion and rushes to try and prevent Peggy from making a tactical retreat.
“I would love to move in with ya English. Giant sewer gators couldn't keep me away.”
“Truly if- Angie swiftly halts anymore second guessing by putting Peggy's mouth to much better use. Angie draws out the kiss waiting until she feels the rest of the tension seep out of Peggy's body.
Then she waits til Peggy's eyes open so the sincerity in her own cannot be missed.
“I'm choosing you Peggy Carter and that's not nothin'. Think you can accept that?”
Angie smiles to herself at the stunned expression on Peggy's face, how her eyes glisten with unshed tears. The wordless acceptance as they tumbled onto the bed actions speaking louder than words.
Then Peggy notices the time and has to quite literally drag herself away from Angie, profusely apologizing, as she makes herself presentable, that she's needed at the office.
Angie allows Peggy the space to pull herself together without a fight knowing that she could now look forward to future of delaying Peggy from making her way to the office daily if she felt like it. Besides she's not exactly complaining about the view.
Peggy drops a kiss on Angie's cheek on her way out but pauses with her hand on the doorknob, “Giant sewer gators, Ang?” she questions amusedly from the doorway.
“Yep, bigger'an most cars.” Angie was never one to miss a beat and she didn't plan on starting now. Peggy just sort of stared like she couldn't decide between rolling her eyes or allowing laughter to overtake her. “What I'm a city gal English. I ain't ever seen a wild horse let alone a herd, probably never will.”
“But you've seen larger than average alligators dwelling in the city's sewers? Have I ever mentioned the week I spent in the NYC sewer system a few winters ago?”
Angie narrowed her eyes, lips pursing to contain the grin threatening to break across her face, “don't you got some fatheads that need schoolin'?”
Peggy couldn't have stopped the fond chuckle if she wanted to “I suppose I do. Though I promise to make today's work day as short as I can manage, darling.”
It was hours later that Angie was notified about Mr. Jarvis being sent to pick up their belongings and escort her to the new place. Which led to the current moment in time where Angie was practically skipping down the hallway because Jarvis had shared they would be retrieving Peggy along the way.
Angie slowed as she reached the dumbwaiter pausing to trail her fingers along the handle, Angie knew it wouldn't be last time she descended these stairs. She had too many good friends here to imagine this would be last time she ever stepped foot into the Griffith.
Still it felt like an ending. She supposed it was, if only a chapter and not the book.
She was just passing Ms. Fry's office when the woman herself suddenly stepped out effectively blocking Angie's path to the front doors.
“Well Ms. Martinell I believe congratulations are in order.”
Angie tilted her head completely baffled. “Congratulations?”
Ms. Fry peered over the top of her glasses, “I remember a few years ago when heartbroken young woman with more feelings than sense found her way to my establishment. She had been jilted by her roommate and was seeking new accommodations. I asked how long she saw herself staying at the Griffith. If I'm not mistaken her reply was a flippant 'til I'm married I guess'. The bitterness was not hidden very convincingly Ms. Martinelli”
Angie stood there her mouth opening and closing but no sound was escaping.
“If I recall Ms. Carter provided a very similar response during her interview and while Ms. Carter's dismissal from this institution is due to a rather unfortunate set of circumstances, you are leaving of your own accord and so I conclude that congratulations are in order. For you both.”
At this point Angie eyes were nearly as wide open as her mouth.
Ms Fry lets out a small chuckle, Angie thinks it's the first time she's ever genuinely heard the older woman laugh.
“Be happy Angela and though I hope all works out should you ever need it the doors of the Griffith will always be open to you.”
Angie thinks she manages to stammer out a thank you but she reckons it doesn't matter much since she's definitely dreaming. There is no way that encounter actually just happened.
Then again she doubts her ability to make something like that up.
The girls were gunna think she cracked.
Speaking of, there are hugs all around and some good natured ribbing about being made a kept woman from Carol and Evelyn. And yet she promises to have them all over for dinner once they've settled in.
Maybe they'll even make it a weekly thing. It takes ten minutes, several more jesting comments and second round of hugs before Angie manages to make it into the car and more importantly get the door closed.
The ride starts off in awkward silence. Angie still a little miffed that Fancy pants hung up on her, that he got to help Peggy while she'd been banned from doing so herself.
She ends up spending the car ride to Peggy coming up with borderline inappropriate things to say, just to watch the tips of his ears turn red and his left eye slightly twitch.
Jeez she thought it'd take more than that to illicit a reaction from Howard Stark's butler. Maybe she was actually wrong about Peggy's mysterious friend Howard who bore a striking resemblance to the Stark genius being said genius.
At any rate Angie's certain she doesn't imagine his sigh of relief when Peggy enters the car, although as a good butler he would never admit to it.
Angie watches through the window as the city passes by, they'd had to back track to pick up Peggy from the SSR offices but it seems they were headed back uptown. Her brows furrow as she realizes she hadn't bothered to question where exactly their new place was located.
When they pull up to a real swanky building on the Upper East Side Angie's sure it's a pit stop, for what she isn't sure but then Peggy is nudging her out of the car, saying they'll bring up their things later and Angie can't quite make it all add up because there is no way here is where she'll be living for the time being.
A doorman is on duty at the front entrance nodding politely as the three of them filter in. The floor is marble, their heels echo in the grand space as they make their way towards the garish gold painted elevator doors. At least she hopes it's painted gold. Somehow even the fine wood paneling covering the walls looks ridiculously expensive . It takes everything in Angie's acting arsenal to not spin around in wonder while whistling out the goddamn hovering on her lips.
As it stands she's not able to keep her jaw from visibly dropping.
While waiting on the elevator Peggy reaches over without looking and gently closes Angie's mouth which had been hanging open for going on an unseemly amount of time.
When they finally step into the elevator Angie just about chokes on her own tongue as she watches Mr. Fancy hit the button to the penthouse suite.
“Uh Pegs who exactly is this friend'a yours?” Because it was one thing suspect the Howard Stark was Peggy's mysterious favor owing friend. It was quite another to be riding up to the penthouse of building more elaborate than anything she ever managed to evendream about when she entertained thoughts of being rich and famous.
The elevator doors ding open to reveal a lavish stretch of hallway. They trail behind Jarvis and Angie finds herself increasing the speed of her steps just bit to put herself in front of Peggy rather than beside her, the temptation of wrapping a hand around her waist too strong in such close proximity.
Mr. Fancy, as she knows was his intention reaches the large double doors first. There's glass paneling so she can already see the extravagance that lies beyond. Still when the the doors swing open it's concentrated thought that keeps Angie's mouth from hanging open a second time.
Unfortunately she does find her voice.
“Oh my god ya're kiddin' me.” Actually she concedes that could have been much worse. Angie's rather glad that's what happened to come out of her mouth and not the steady stream of colorful bilingual expletives currently running rampant through her brain.
“I know what you're thinking Miss Martinelli and yes the drawing room has recently been refurbished in the neo-classical style.” Right, that was definitely payback for the first half of the car ride, cheeky bastard.
“On the small side isn't it?” Angie fails to notice the exasperated look Peggy shoots in Jarvis' direction and she's far too busy trying to process the room itself to detect the sarcasm heavy in her friends words.
It leaves her once again speechless because you could fit the room she spent the first decade of her life in the freaking elevator. Which granted her father and uncles had thrown up a makeshift wall in her brothers' room to give her some semblance of privacy before shuffling everyone around as they got older, so it was technically half a room but still in the elevator.
“Iiit is one of Mister Stark's quainter residences.”
That snaps her out of her musings because quaint che cozz quaint. How the hell is she associating with people who consider this quaint, her room at the Griffith was quaint, this is something else. She acknowledges the little voice in the back of her head that whispers incredible but tries to hang on to some semblance her Brooklyn bred realism.
“Quaint. You could fit the entire apartment where I grew up in this room.” She wonders if they realize she means this room could easily fit the entirety of the top floor of the building where she grew up.
“Six bedrooms, eight bathrooms, a rooftop terrace for alfresco dining and the library has a, sufficient collection of first editions.” Right scratch that you could fit the entire building where she grew up and still have plenty of room to spare. Where was the catch. Life simply didn't work out this way. Ever. Especially for her.
“And you're saying we can stay here. For free?” The urge to ask if she can get the answer in writing is strong but she's isn't really looking to push her luck at the moment.
“Since the unfortunate incidents at both your home and place of work, Mr. Stark has offered this residence to you and Miss Carter for as long as you might require it.” Looks like Carol and Evelyn weren't too far off with their kept woman commentary. Angie adds it to ever growing list of things to address when she finally gets that long overdue conversation with Peggy.
Angie pauses her perusal of the room to glance over at Peggy. She can't help the satisfied grin that tugs at the corner of her lips when Peggy's eyes instantly meet her own. Peggy answers with her own smug little smile and Angie wants to kiss the expression right off her adorable face.
“It's a bit far from the theater district.” Angie was starting to resign herself to being surrounded by cheeky Brits, now if only one them would make themselves scarce...
“I'll live with it.” I'll live with you is what she means.
The urge to pounce on Peggy is becoming difficult to resist. The gal secured them a place that was theirs no matter who technically owned it. The next time Peggy said we'll talk about this when I get home she would quite literally mean 'our' home and the rush of feelings that accompanied that sentiment had Angie bursting at the seems for an outlet. Preferably one that included the absence of clothing and a tour of all six bedrooms and eight bathrooms. Maybe even the rooftop terrace.
Angie could feel the heat rising high on her cheeks and was pretty sure her eyes had glazed over for a second. Searching for some composure she turned to Mr. Fancy to ask, “You got a phone? I have to call my mother.”
It seemed her mother was the first thought that popped into her head as far as mentally dousing herself with cold water went.
“Naturally. There's a telephone in every room.” A telephone in every room. In what world was that even remotely necessary?! It could prove endlessly entertaining the more she thought about but still what sort of fiction had she managed to trip herself into.
“Oh my god are you kiddin' me?” Angie knew it was only a matter of time before she slipped up and scarred the poor man with the coarser extent of her vocabulary. The thought may have spurred her out of the room at trot rather than a leisurely stroll.
“How refreshing to meet someone who appreciates the finer things.”
“I appreciate the finer things I just don't want to know what's happened in and on the fine things.”
Angie overhears the exchange despite swiftly exiting the room and makes a mental note to disinfect everything before getting too comfortable. She's sure she can get Carol to smuggle her some of the industrial stuff from the hospital.
It takes exactly two seconds into the conversation with her ma for Angie to regret ever having picked up the phone to begin with.
In all her excitement she had forgotten that the last time she spoke to her mother it was to grudgingly agree to Sunday dinner and secretary school. While in the meantime she had blown off secretary school, quite vocally to her father she might add, recruited her brother for some mysterious emergency and had been otherwise unreachable for going on four days.
Not to mention her place of work had been the site of some mysterious government showdown which looked pretty damning for Angie's case especially when coupled with the previously stated facts.
So much had happened recently that the conversation with her mother over the automat's phone seemed like another lifetime and not the reality of a few short days.
And now she was living rent free in what was technically one of Howard Stark's mansions. She was kicking herself for not coming up with a cover story for that. Somehow insisting that she was moving into a big otherwise empty penthouse with a singular woman didn't seem to be helping her any.
“What kind of woman is owed favors from a man like Howard Stark, Angela?” her mother had queried in disbelief. Angie's vehement defense of Peggy's character was quickly tipping over the line of acceptable friend territory.
Of course leave it to her mother to come up with an idea so off the wall it stopped Angie dead in her tracks, preventing her from accidentally revealing too much about the true nature of her relationship with Peggy.
In the end it was a tie between which was more insulting her mother being convinced Stark knocked her up out of wedlock and now she was hiding until the bastard was born or that she had run away and become a part of some harem of girls Stark kept around on a whim for indecent activities.
It took a considerable amount of self control not to make a few snarky comments about how her mother always wanted her to find a man so what did it matter about the particulars.
Since she did not feel like dealing with the hellfire and brimstone that would rain down if she were actually pregnant out of wedlock (which would be the very definition of a modern day miracle) or a queer (what her ma didn't know couldn't hurt her) she did her best to assuage her mother of any crazy notions she had about what sort of sin Angie had fallen into.
It was easily the most trying conversation of her life. Considering the last few days alone and glossing over her misadventurous youth Angie thought that sufficiently said something.
By the time Angie hung up the phone she was mentally exhausted. The conversation lasted for much longer than she would have liked and her mother had managed to wrangle a dinner invitation for the whole family to come see the new place. Presumably to make sure it wasn't in fact the den of iniquity her mother had conjured up in her imagination.
She silently apologized to Peggy in advanced for the production that would become. Speaking of Peggy, she began looking around for her newroommate. Stopping briefly to marvel at the way her voice bounced off the walls as she called out the woman's name. She wanted to explore their new quaint residence together.
It didn't take long for her to stumble across the hastily scrawled note in the foyer smeared with what looked suspiciously like tear drops.
Running an errand.
Angie wasn't buying it and after the events of the last few days she couldn't be faulted for the concern that thrummed through her body or the spike of fear.
She rushes downstairs, recalling the doorman who greeted them upon arrival. Hopefully he could at least tell her how long ago Peggy left, if not where she was going.
She was dejected to find out twenty minutes had passed since Peggy's departure, far too long to track her.
He must have seen the look on her face because he informs Angie that Peggy asked if it he happened to know how long it would take to walk to the Brooklyn bridge from their location.
Angie's first thought is that the woman is fucking insane, they're on the Upper East Side for chrissakes. A glance at the doorman seems indicate he agrees though he keeps his mouth shut.
The man confirms Peggy had left on foot and proposes that maybe she had decided to take a cab after walking for a bit.
Angie thanks the man distractedly the gears in mind already spinning. She figures it's about five maybe five and a half miles from their current location to the Brooklyn Bridge. In that perspective it doesn't seem quite as outrageous. Peggy surely would have walked far more miles in a day if she spent time on the front lines as Angie suspects she has.
At the very least Angie knows she's been through basic training. Army if she correctly identified the markings on the dress uniform among Peggy's salvaged things, special forces but still Army.
While Angie had been trained by the Air Force she still had to complete multiple mile treks in full gear. She had lost track of the amount of push-ups they made her do and the extra miles she had been forced to run because she never could quite keep her mouth shut.
She griped quite a bit about her least favorite training exercise insisting they were flying planes not charging after krauts in a ground assault.
The drill sergeants did not see it from her perspective.
Angie likes to think at this point she knows Peggy pretty well and she can pretty much guarantee despite the doorman's objections that Peggy Carter decided to walk all the way to the fucking Brooklyn Bridge.
Angie figures it'd take Peggy just shy of two hours to complete the journey leaving Angie herself with a bit more than an hour to catch up.
Armed with this new information Angie allows a plan to formulate in her mind.
Angie figures it was about time they actually talked, she was more than ready for some answers but first she needed to make sure Peggy was actually alright.
Something had prickled in the back of Angie's consciousness and if asked she wouldn't have been able to say why she was suddenly positive that Peggy's disappearance was directly related to Steve.
It was still strange to think they both shared a love for Steve different though it was and yet Angie realized it bonded them in a unique way. She was actually looking forward to talking about Steve again with someone who loved him just as much as she did, if Peggy was up to it any rate.
She just needed to make it clear in no uncertain terms that Peggy was never allowed to make her swear on Steve again.
Angie retrieves her purse from upstairs, counting the change to make sure she has enough for the train. Then she picks up the phone in the hallway, Jarvis hadn't been kidding about there being one in every room and dials her brother.
She's glad not for the first time to have a handful of uncollected favors. It occurs to her she should work on getting Peggy's bag back as well certain the other woman would notice the absence of some sensitive items when her head was together enough to unpack.
One blessedly quick conversation later and Angie is out the door and on her way.
Peggy decided to take the long walk to her destination. She had known the minute Edwin Jarvis handed her the vial what she was going to with it. What she had to do with it but she hoped the walk would help her come to terms with it a bit more.
It was ironic that Howard had decided to destroy his dangerous inventions should he be able to reclaim them. She truly was as surprised as she expressed to Mr. Jarvis. Still if Howard knew Steve's blood hadn't been lost he wouldn't hesitate to mess around with it.
Despite it being perhaps the most dangerous thing in his vault but Howard was completely blind to that aspect of it. He looked at the vial and saw only Steve. So had she at first.
However what she had planned was as sentimental as it was logical.
No one could be allowed to continue trying to recreate the serum. There was no one left to understand the gravity of the choice that needed to be made. If anyone could be successful at unlocking the secrets in Steve Roger's blood it was Howard Stark and god help her but she couldn't allow that to happen.
She had spent a lot of time with Abraham Erskine after rescuing him from occupied Germany. Worked with him, listened to him. He carried immense guilt from his part in creating Red Skull and he extracted a promise from Peggy should anything ever happen to him she would not let the mistake be repeated. She could have never predicted the way events would play out when she agreed.
Erskine was one of casualties of war she mourned the most. He was also the only reason Steve had been given a chance. Peggy shuddered at the thought of what might have happened if Hodges, the government's endorsement had been given the serum.
Howard saw the last vial of Steve's blood and was blinded by the one good thing he had done in his life.
Peggy had wanted one last chance at keeping him safe.
And now she was finally ready to let him go.
Steve Rogers gave the ultimate sacrifice. He traded his life to save countless millions. His blood had been spilled in back alleys all over Brooklyn and in battlefields across front lines but now she could return a little piece of Steve Rogers to the city who helped make him who he was.
The city he always held close to his heart, Steve had joked once that the most difficult part of all the 4Fs wasn't rejection it was having to apply as someone from New Jersey.
Peggy finally reaches the bridge and slows her pace at the sight of the thick cables, suddenly remembering a story shared over a bottle passed around a fire with the Howling Commandos. They were talking about dangerous stunts they'd gotten themselves into while intoxicated and Bucky seemed to have an endless supply many of which caused the tips of Steve's ears to turn pink and co-starred their mysterious sister.
Peggy realizes now she always assumed they meant Bucky's sister since Steve's file cited he was an only child even when Steve seemed to claim the girl as often as Bucky. She tries to remember if they ever called Angie by name now that she knows of the connection. She's certain the surname never came up she would have remembered that for sure.
The tale Bucky spun was a bit light on details to start as if he were omitting certain details but it comes back to her just the same as she runs her fingers lightly over a steel cable, if she closes her eyes she can easily imagine the drunken clamor in three voices she knows well.
They had tried out a different bar for once, Bucky muttering something about steering clear of Sandrine's for the night to Angie's disapproving stare. They ended up at a place that wasn't an exclusively queer clientele but they claimed to be friendly to different walks of life.
The same could not be said of cuckolded husbands.
Angie was getting their fourth round from the bar when she bumped into a wall of a man. Before she could apologize the man spun around and when he registered the person who had bumped into him he roared out “YOU.”
And then all hell broke lose.
Angie dove out of the way as he lunged at her causing him to crash into the group of guys standing behind her. It started a chain reaction and a full scale bar brawl.
“What was that you said about me sleeping with people who were taken Ang?” Bucky shouted over the din as he dodged a flurry of punches.
“Didn't know she was married at the time J!” Angie answered breaking a chair over her own attacker's back.
Steve had jumped up on the bar and was throwing whatever he could at anyone who got too close to either Bucky or Angie when a shrill and unmistakable whistle broke through the pandemonium.
“Shit, cops.” Whether the ease with which Angie and Bucky cleared a path to get close enough for Steve to leap from the bar landing on Bucky's back as they fought their way through the chaos to slip out the back door was a testament to their strong bond or the frequency with which they found themselves in trouble was up for debate.
“Bet your glad I'm so well acquainted with back doors now huh.” Bucky huffed out after they'd cleared at least ten blocks and felt reasonably safe from arrest.
Angie face planted into the nearest wall too nauseous to even make a crack about the softball Bucky just lobbed her.
“I think I'm gunna be sick, remind me to never run that far drunk ever again, or at all.”
Steve observes their surroundings, “There's a train station about three blocks that way but I lost my coins when I jumped from the bar.”
Angie gingerly removes herself from the wall and starts digging around the pockets of her dress, “Uh I got nothing must've fallen out during the fight.”
They turn in tandem to Bucky who sticks his hands in his pockets and deadpans, “Welp looks like we're walking.”
“Back to Brooklyn?!” Is the twin chorus response.
“Do you see any other options?”
“We can just jump the turnstiles.”
“Don't you think we've had enough close calls with cops tonight Angela?”
Angie huffs a little a both the usage of her full name and Bucky's valid point. Even as she knows if it were just the two of them he wouldn't be making it. They trudge along in silence until Bucky produces a flask taking a long swig before passing it over to Angie.
“You're telling me none of us managed to keep a hold of our train fare but you still got your damn flask?”
“I don't gotta share ya know.”
Angie glared a little but passed around the flask just the same.
The trek took twice as long as it might have were they all sober but small miracles it felt half as long due to the alcohol still coursing strong through their veins.
They finally approach the Brooklyn Bridge around three in the morning and Angie takes off running, despite her earlier declaration, swinging herself up onto the large suspension cable.
“I thought we wanted to avoid any more run ins with the police tonight Ang?” Bucky hollers after her.
She ignores him climbing higher and higher towards the granite tower.
Bucky raises an eyebrow at Steve who lets out a heavy sigh but clambers onto Bucky's back for the second time that night, muttering about how Angie's fascination with climbing absurdly high things whilst drunk was going to get them all killed one day.
It was a small blessing their shenanigans were taking place on a late July night where not even the slightest breeze disturbed the air on the ground. Higher up was a different story of course the wind kicking up off the water but not strong enough to knock them over or disturb their already compromised balance.
Steve and Bucky eventually reach the top where Angie is already seated kicking her legs as they hang off the ledge.
“I swear sometimes I think you have a death wish.”
Angie just shakes her head spreading her arms out wide, voice bright with wonder, “Isn't this view unbelievable.”
Bucky concedes in his own head the view is pretty damn impressive but he'll swan dive from the spot he's standing before he admits it out loud.
He sits down, back leaning against the metal railing structures situated firmly away from the edges Angie's so fond of. Steve settles down next to him pulling out a sketchbook, from where Bucky couldn't definitively say.
When Angie tips her head back and catches sight of Steve, hands flying across the pages, she's speechless for almost two full minutes before exploding.
“Seriously?! You're telling me Bucky managed to hang on to his flask and you have a damn sketchbook and a pencil but neither one of you could keep a hold of 30 fuckin' cents?! Where were you even keeping that thing?”
Steve just kind of grins and keeps on sketching. Angie's more impressed than annoyed anyway.
Angie leans back on her elbows staring up at the sky feeling closer to stars up here like the they were twinkling just a bit brighter. They bask in the quiet of the water gently lapping far below, only broken by the scratching of Steve's pencil and the rare car driving by underneath them.
They stay like that for hours until the sun rises bouncing off the buildings of the Manhattan skyline and the water below. When the sun is fully up they reckon they should climb down before they gather any unwanted attention in the light of day.
They each stand stretching a bit, shaking out their limbs in preparation for the descent when Bucky's voice breaks the shimmering silence.
“Hey guys, I uh found our train fare.” That morning Bucky came very close to being pushed off the top of the Brooklyn Bridge. Angie swears the only reason she didn't was the near three hour walk still ahead of them if Bucky fell taking their change with him.
Their time spent up on the bridge captured lovingly and forever frozen on paper by Steve's hand tells a different story.
Glancing up at the structure towering above her, Peggy wonders not for the first time how the three of them survived until adulthood.
Peggy stares out at the water the sun is beginning to set not rise but she imagines the view is quite similar. She briefly considers climbing to the top before registering exactly how absurd that idea is.
She reaches the middle of the bridge and goes just a bit further until she's firmly over the imaginary line that divides Manhattan from Brooklyn and holds the vial out over the water.
As she frees her hand from the confines of her pocket she notices a slight tremor. For a moment Peggy watches her hand move as if she's out her own body. The cap pops off with ease and suddenly she's slammed back into the moment.
Peggy tips her hand watching as Steve's blood pours out in a fine line disappearing into the depths below, just as he had miles away. A single track of tears mimics the action. She hopes wherever he is this brings them both some peace.
“Bye, my darling.”
She shoves her hands back in her pockets gazing off into the distance and allows a rare moment of giving herself completely over to her emotions. The tears track silently down her cheeks and she can taste the slight tang of saltwater carried by the wind as it whips trough her hair. The occasional car drives by behind her and the gulls screech.
Peggy wonders if Steve ever stood in this exact spot. She knows he liked to sketch from here sometimes and she likes to think this is a spot he'd chosen once upon a time. It doesn't bring the stab of pain she's become accustomed to when he swirls around her thoughts. Just the bittersweet thought of experiencing the view beside him.
Eventually she removes her hands from her pockets and folds her arms on the railing in front of her. She stays that way until the tears stop and the tug in her heart tells her it's time to go.
She straightens up biting back a groan when her ribs protest the treatment or rather lack thereof they received today.
Peggy starts making her way back to the Manhattan side of the bridge pondering over whether to bother Jarvis or take the train. After the last few day and another twinge in her ribs she thinks maybe she'll just take a cab.
As she approaches the end of the bridge she stops short. She tiredly rubs her eyes wondering if they were playing tricks on her or if Angie was in fact leaning against the railing holding what appeared to be a large pizza box.
Wiping the tears from her face, she draws nearer. When she's almost certain that is indeed Angie her mind races, how did Angie find her? Did she know what she was doing? How long had she been there?
She finally settles on, “Angie where on earth did you get that? And how long have you been standing there?”
Angie seems to read the unspoken questions as easily as the ones Peggy managed to verbalize and in true Angie fashion decides to completely ignore them in favor of what she had planned on saying before Peggy called out to her.
“A getaway car wasn't nothing when it comes to favors my brother owes me , so what’dya say we go back to that swanky apartment and eat some of the best pizza Brooklyn has to offer on some ridiculously expensive sheets? If I ain’t mistaken you’ve got one hell of a story to tell me.”
A hell of a story indeed. Despite the knowledge that sharing said story could change everything Peggy feels lighter than she has in quite some time. She leans over placing a kiss on Angie’s cheek threading their arms together. “You are marvelous, darling. “
“I know.”
“And cheeky.”
“You love it.”
Peggy glances around and risks a light kiss near the corner of Angie's mouth in response.
“So home then?” Something flickers across Angie's face before it settles into the warmest smile Peggy can ever recall seeing.
“Yeah English, home.”