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backwardsandinhighheels1945-blog · 8 years ago

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a-man-outof-time:

3c-ifyouneedacupofsugar:

Angie answered first. She adjusted her necklace and took a few steps towards towards the two military figures–through neither was dressed in a uniform of any kind, there was something about the way they held themselves, about how they conducted themselves, in what they said and what they omitted, that had become ingrained in them and now felt blatant. They were so starkly different from her, and Angie was tempted to just let them handle their business, Angie having accepted her scare or her smack on the wrist, or her lesson that Peggy wanted to teach. She could have happily blended into the white walls and speckled floors if Steve hadn’t addressed her and caught her attention.

“By ‘companion,’ she means ‘girlfriend’.” Being a vintage-y person sometimes had its charming quirks, like her affinity for matching lingerie or the monograms on all her personal effects, but occasionally it just gnawed at Angie’s sensibilities. Still, she supposed now wasn’t the time for that, when they were–she didn’t know how far underwater. Were they still sinking? She only knew they were in a prison with Captain America and she didn’t even know who else would be down here. “I’m not like the rest of you,” she replied.

“I don’t want to register because I…really don’t think I have to. I’m sick, not,” she threw up air quotes, “super.” She laughed off any concern she was accustomed now to having people throw her way when she said that, “which isn’t a big deal. I caught it in a lab, and I’m being treated for it. It doesn’t show up all the time–it’s not even apparent, unless I choose. Most of the time. But I take medicine. Besides, my doctor’s told me not to sign anything, so I really don’t think that’s a good idea, but even if I do, what can they do? Draft me? I’d infect anyone I bite or scratch. I wouldn’t even make a good draftee if I wanted to, and I don’t, but I don’t think that anyone cares about that.”

She stopped her rambling and looked apologetically at Peggy. “I’m already getting care. There’s nothing the government can do for me that Dr. Strange isn’t already doing. Last night was an accident, but as it turns out there was no real danger.” Her eyes darted down to the large, visible red splotch on Peggy’s neck. “It just doesn’t make sense to sign. Or for them to want me to sign. This is for people like the X Men and the Avengers and the Fant-four-sticks….er,” she remembered her present company, “Fantastic Four.” She stood by the table, just a pace or two away and at the other end from Peggy, but she appealed to her now.

Steve tried to keep his expression impassive, but a frown inevitably darkened his features when Angie differentiated between “sick” and “super,” then deepened when Angie mentioned Strange. To his ears, it sounded like no one had actually shown Angie the written bill – or the letter of resignation that Stephen had sent out weeks ago.

“I can’t get you out of here. This is so far beyond my jurisdiction. Unless you want to work for me as one of the Thunderbolts–but even I don’t choose that team. So. Can I ask you why, at least?”

He eyed Peggy for a moment, but damn if he could keep anything from her.

“I got a lead on a HYDRA insurgent who used to work in SHIELD. We had teams – the one I coordinated was supposed to track down rogue HYDRA agents and bring them in. So that’s what I did. There wasn’t time to pass the buck and hope Ross mobilized on my word alone.”

He glanced to Angie again, then back to Peggy.

“I knew what I was getting myself into. Don’t think Ross would let me join another team if I begged, and that’s fine.

“So – why are you here?” he asked Peggy, though he then turned to Angie and was careful not to analyze the bruise on Peggy’s neck too closely.

“You’re right, there isn’t anything the government can do for you. But you have to know the bill doesn’t care what makes you superhuman, only that you are. You won’t be exempt from registration if this passes, and you won’t be exempt from arrest if you don’t register. Not that I think you should sign,” he was quick to add, “but you need to know what you’re risking if you don’t.”

He sighed, low and long, then took a seat at the end of the shelf that served as his bed.

“Did Strange not talk to you about this?” he asked Angie. Then, to Peggy, “Did you show her the actual bill?”

“Yes, she’s read it,” Peggy said with no falter at her assertion. Only once the words were out did she turn to see what Angie might have to say about it. “You’ve read it, haven’t you?” she enquired, simply to make sure they were on the same page, and to prove to Steve that she knew what she was talking about. Angie gave a little reaction--barely perceptible, as if she were being intentionally enigmatic (Peggy would have to ask her about that later)--that seemed affirming at its core and Peggy seized it. “See, she’s read it, and she knows what it entails.

“I’m not trying to make a case that the bill is perfect. Certainly, there are flaws with the wording, but many of the assertions are so ludicrous that they will be ironed out--besides,” she continued, “this bill isn’t about Angie. Can we at least all agree on that?” Peggy glanced about to the other two, almost pleading with them to see sense.

“This bill is designed to accommodate super-humans in their desire to be involved in crime and punishment. Well, some go rogue, some hurt innocent people, some turn into villains themselves. A registry would solve many of the problems we currently face, from the basic need to know who the government is handling, up to how to handle the situation where someone proves their interests don’t align with public safety. There are several simple and elegant solutions to the wording of the bill which could make the process more sympathetic to the individual. I recognize this deficiency, but I know it can and will be changed. Therefore, complying with these measures are safer and more practical than sinking into the ocean to rot. Nobody knows you’re down here, Steve. What good did your brave show do, if nobody listens and nobody sees?”

The harshness of her words was only broken by a slight roughness in her sad and tired voice. She hadn’t had a break since she’d come home, and now she had to see Steve like this, and Angie threatening to follow suit. When she looked back at Steve, her eyes were glassy, her shoulders less squared. Perhaps he saw himself like a chess piece who had made a noble sacrifice. “Your heart’s in the right place. And I didn’t come here just to...” make an example of you. She cleared her throat. “You...can’t do much here. And I’m not going to do anything criminal. I won’t advise anyone do anything criminal. But, Steve, is there anything within reason you’d like me to do on your behalf once I set foot back on dry land?” Surely, he deserved that much--and Peggy was almost certain she could deliver publicity or a message, or something of the sort.

Frontier Peggy, Steve & Angie (28 August 2016)

#a-man-outof-time #steve rogers #angie martinelli #3c-ifyouneedacupofsugar #frontier

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backwardsandinhighheels1945-blog · 8 years ago

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nataromanovas:

Natasha didn’t often dwell on it, but she realized every so often that she’d become awfully settled over the past few years. She had her apartment, her friends, her cat, even. She had a home and a life in New York and in Washington, D.C. She had people who knew her and wanted to see her. She had a life. And she didn’t want to throw all of that—or any of it—away.

This was the kind of realization that was easiest to have when one’s lifestyle was in jeopardy. In Moscow, Natasha had arrived early and spent a few days combing the internet for any news of what was happening stateside, any statements. She’d talked on the phone with Isaiah for an hour. She’d thought about Liho. She’d walked until she ended up at a little bakery where she’d checked the news again, and then she sat and wished for a job.

Which was why she was more than happy that Peggy was arriving soon. Her imminent arrival–technically why Natasha was in Moscow in the first place–helped take her mind of things. She’d stocked her little apartment with food—good food, the kind you went out and bought, instead of canned food you made for yourself—and tidied up and bought extra coffee and made sure her cache of weapons was cleaned and ready to go. And when she got Peggy’s message, she headed out to the airport, parking and waiting in the car for her to get through customs. Unsurprisingly, it took a while. When she was notified that Peggy was heading out, she hurried to meet her, finding her standing by the door.

Natasha smiled at her fellow Rescuer, genuinely glad to see her, as she took Peggy’s hand and gave it a good shake. “Agent Carter.” She supposed this Peggy was still an agent. “It’s really no problem. I’m happy to get away from things for a little while. How was Madagascar?”

“Wintry,” Peggy replied, and returned the handshake in kind. “Though, I’m afraid I didn’t have time to do much sight seeing. I’d love to spend some real time there one day.” That was about as close as she could get to saying that she’d spent the entire time there on the job--but Romanov knew what kind of job it had been. Hydra were involved, and the paper trail had led her here. God bless the Germans and their fastidious paperwork-turned-paper-trails.

She adjusted her bag and turned again towards the door. “Are we walking or hailing a cab?” As Peggy spoke, the Russian was already approaching a parked sedan. The trip from the airport was short, and at the odd time of day, the traffic was lighter than Peggy was sure it otherwise would have been. The city was brighter than it had been last time Peggy had been there, but there were still dark shadows like dark memories littering the streets and a sort of grit that might never be washed away.

After not too long, Natasha parked and Peggy stepped out, then retrieved her bag from the back seat. The building was old. Peggy was fairly certain it pre-dated Stalin, but it was so badly worn by time that it seemed just as drab on the outside. On the next door stoop, two old ladies were sharing a bag of sunflower seeds, and eyed Peggy, obviously seeing her as an outsider. Peggy nodded to them, and went to Natasha’s own building door to await its unlocking.

Inside and in the safe house, Peggy took the bag from around her shoulders, and placed it and the information it carried down. Most, thank goodness, were in digital files, but there was still a considerable paper trail she had picked up along the way. All of it added to the weight both of the meaning and the physical bag. “After everything, I’ve been led to Moscow,” she said, and unzipped her bag, and began to spread the papers and pictures across the dining room table with no regard for meal space. Romanov would understand. “Now, I remember they nearly--the Huns, I mean--nearly reached Moscow but were stopped a few miles west. Where I believe I’m meant to go is farther east. That doesn’t seem quite right that there would be some kind of German base east of Moscow?” She looked up at Romanov. Perhaps her colleague would know something Peggy didn’t.

Wondrous Land (Peggy & Natasha) 20 July 2016

#nataromanovas #natasha romanoff #wondrous land

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backwardsandinhighheels1945-blog · 8 years ago

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a-man-outof-time:

Steve glanced away from Peggy to Angie, who had stepped back and looked a little blindsided, if he was reading her correctly.

“You were arrested early.”

“Yeah,” he said absently.

He didn’t recall Peggy ever mentioning that Angie was superhuman or a master martial artist or anything of the sort, but now it seemed pretty clear why she was there, and Steve could feel another barrier shuddering down between them – or within him, at least – as unyielding as the plastic and steel already physically parting them.

“I was short on time and shorter on options,” he added. “You know how it goes. But unless you’re my lawyer” – he nodded at Angie – “I don’t think I have anything to say that Rhodes or Stark couldn’t tell you.”

He hated how angry he was with her for bringing Angie here, regardless of whether she was trying to make a point about superhuman registration or not. Not that he needed anyone to hold his hand through this – he’d learned his lessons about sacrificing efficacy to the illusion of emotional support – but if he could have chosen between all of his friends showing up with agendas and no one showing up at all, he might have preferred the latter.

But they were there now, and Angie must have had her reasons for holding out. Maybe the two of them could instead convince Peggy that the SHRA wasn’t in any of their best interests.

“Deadline’s coming up,” he said to Angie. “What’s holding you back?”

“Like I said, I came home yesterday,” Peggy replied. “So pardon me if I don’t know all the details.” This was all quite surprising, to say the least. Steve had texted her his dissent, but she had at least believed the he would keep his head and wits about him as the deadline approached. Clearly, this wasn’t the case. If she wasn’t here to micro-manage everything, certain dramatic personae would make rash and poor decisions. Angie hadn’t known he was arrested. Angie was surprised that he was down here at all. Likely, Angie wouldn’t be able to cough up an explanation of what Steve had even done to be put away. Wasn’t that a shame? Steve had gone out of his way to cause trouble for others in the name of an entirely lost cause.

Peggy drummed her fingers again on the chair t-t-t-t and then stood back, not ready to sit down quite yet. “It would seem I don’t know what you mean, as there are six more weeks to parlay.” The thought came to her to be exasperated, but she forced the words as kindly as she could. Steve had made--as he had before and would again, she supposed--made a rash decision. At least his poor choices were often for the greater good...if poorly thought through, this time with dire consequences. “I can’t get you out of here. This is,” she rolled her eyes and tossed up a gesturing hand, “so far beyond my jurisdiction. Unless you want to work for me as one of the Thunderbolts--but even I don’t choose that team. So. Can I ask you,” she wanted to ask him a lot of things, “why, at least?

“Angie isn’t a lawyer. She’s my companion,” she clarified. “So nothing you say to me or her will be recorded or used.”

Frontier Peggy, Steve & Angie (28 August 2016)

#frontier #a-man-outof-time #3c-ifyouneedacupofsugar

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backwardsandinhighheels1945-blog · 8 years ago

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backwardsandinhighheels1945:

3c-ifyouneedacupofsugar:

a-man-outof-time:

backwardsandinhighheels1945:

By the time Peggy made it back from LaGuardia to her old apartment, her feet were sore and her suit case weighed heavily in her hand. Familiar scents, superseding all the new memories of ‘home’ she’d made along her travels, wafted back to her and put her at an ease. The hallways were always a mixture of carpet cleaner and the muddy shoes that ruined its efforts. Peggy had only just climbed to her floor and begun to unlock the door to her apartment when a chorus of barks led to another door down the hall opening and a familiar skittering of puppy claws racing down the hall to meet her, greet her, and knock her arse over tit onto the floor.

Howl whined and grabbed her up in his forelegs, then seemed to realize that he, himself, wanted to be held, and tried to figure out where was her lap he could curl up in. Peggy pushed herself up off the floor so she could sit up against the wall, and Howl nosed his way through her arms and onto her legs, giving everything a good sniff as he went. “Oh, you nasty pooch, I love you too.” His ears perked up at the sound of her voice and as he sat on her lap, he began to lick at her face until she shone. Peggy pursed her lips against the onslaught of affection and stroked her fingers through Howl’s fur. “I love you, yes I do, yes I do.” But Howl wouldn’t be sated. He finished licking her face–for the time being–and tried again to curl up in her lap. He was far too big to be a lap dog, but he tried again and again to curl up between her legs, as if once more around in a circle would make room for him, that he’d grow smaller or her lap would grow deeper. Each time around, Peggy dug her nails deep into his coat and scratched at his back, his shoulders, his neck, his legs.

Finally, Howl placed himself on the ground, having successfully nudged Peggy’s legs far enough apart that he could sit down between them and let her pet and scratch him. Still, he whimpered on.

“Someone’s glad you’re home.” Peggy looked up to see Angie, dressed in a dressing gown, standing over her.

“Only one somebody?” Peggy looked up at her girlfriend, and offered her a winking grin. Goodness did she look marvelous. The months she’d spent away had apparently been kind to Angie. Even at a glance, there seemed to be more to her than before. More confidence, more substance, more pride.

“Of course I’m happy to see you. Even if I’m not knocking you off your feet. I saw that, English–it wasn’t graceful.”

Peggy let her head knock against the wall. “I’m too tired to be graceful,” she replied. She breathed deeply, then relaxed a bit, even where she was in the middle of the hallway. This was home. “You look nice.” She raised her hand and scratched, much as she’d been scratching Howl, just about where she suspected Angie’s knee to be. “What have you been doing to yourself?” Howl decided he didn’t like Peggy’s attention being split, so he got up and started to lick at her face and chest where Peggy supposed she might be sweaty and salty from the long day of travel.

Angie reached out her hand to help Peggy to her feet. “Come on, let’s get you inside. You’re a mess.” Peggy took her hand and pushed Howl to the ground before allowing Angie to help her haul herself to her feet. One of her pumps had come off and she picked it up rather than take it off. Angie already had her suitcase and had finished unlocking the door.

Howl rushed inside ahead of them, jumped up onto the sofa, making it edge substantially along the floor. Peggy stepped in and placed her shoe on the floor and kicked off the other. The room was a tad stuffy. She hadn’t really expected anyone to vacuum since she’d been gone, but opening a window might have been nice. Dusty as it was, it smelled about right and, perhaps most importantly, all her things were here. The two dog beds, her seating furniture, the bar stools by the kitchenette. Photos on the wall she hadn’t seen in months of friends and landscapes she loved. Later there would be time to clap eyes on everything she missed, but now Peggy went straight to the kitchen to pick up a dish towel and wash her face, chest and hands where Howl had loved on her.

“So…was the trip nice?” Angie took a seat across the counter from Peggy on one of the bar stools.

Peggy lowered the towel, then wet it. The unused sink spat and hissed before running. “The trip itself was. Most of it was spent in winter, so at least I got out of the heat. That was nice. New York summers are too hot.” She brought the wet towel to her face again. That was really about as much as she could say about the trip to anyone outside her immediate team, but Angie had some big news, too. “How’s Broadway treating you?”

Angie’s face broadened in pride. “I love it, Peggy. You need to come see the show; you’ll love it. It’s about the Pacific Theater. Nellie–that’s me–is a nurse–” Peggy resisted the urge to roll her eyes “–and she falls for this rich Frenchman, then she falls out of love with him because he was previously married to an islander woman.”

Peggy shook out her towel and placed it back over the oven door. “That sounds about right.”

“Her hair is brown and curly,” Angie sang, at what was undoubtedly a softened pitch, but still quite loud and unexpected. Peggy looked up to see Angie slipping off her stool. “Her curls are hurley-burly.” She was singing at a cut tempo, Peggy realized, and felt before she saw Angie’s eyes rake over her. Angie paused her song as she walked around the counter. “Her lips are pips,” she encroached. Peggy almost felt she was being stalked as Angie leaned in close and wrapped her arms around Peggy’s waist, “I call her hips,” her voice was little more than a murmur now and her hands slid low, “…twirly and whirly.”

“You do no such thing,” Peggy said before kissing Angie to stop the wretched song. She was so embarrassing. Though the kiss had begun as a way of stopping Angie from singing, the feeling of it quickly changed. Angie licked at Peggy’s lips and gums, making her shudder and grip at the coarse material of Angie’s robe, and wonder what kind of thing she had on underneath. A two-handed, luxurious fondle told her it was something smooth and nice to stroke, and she imagined that it would feel cool over Angie’s hot skin. Now, she felt flush with lust, rather from the serenade. She untied the belt, and let her hands see for themselves. She shuddered with delight at the feeling of the slippery weave and the loose cut. Peggy used her finger nails to trace along the hem of the nightgown around both bare legs and around the back, where she let her hands rest just where her muscled thighs grew softer. Peggy’s fingers pinched at the soft lumps. At another time when she wasn’t feeling quite so frantic to quickly be reacquainted all at once, she would refresh her mental map of every bump and dip of Angie’s body.

Angie was the one to break the kiss. Gasps came between them, then gentle moans out of Peggy as Angie began to kiss and nuzzle at her neck. Peggy slouched against the counter, and groped again, more tightly. She coaxed Angie’s legs so they stood on either side of Peggy’s, and she was just bringing her fingers higher bit by bit when Angie bit or sucked too hard, making Peggy pull away. She snapped her head down over Angie’s, pushing her out of the way before she brought her hand up to the spot, then exhaling when she realized she’d held her breath. “Not so hard,” she replied, already rubbing at Angie’s hip again when Angie stepped away.

Next to Angie’s hot skin, the air seemed startlingly cool. She thought for a second or two that Angie would come back, but then she just felt over-exposed, for having shown so much desire only for Angie to walk off. “What’s wrong?”

Angie’s hands were up over her face, hiding everything but her eyes. Finally, after a couple, horrified seconds Angie said through her muffling hands, “oh God, Peggy, I’m so sorry. I don’t know…if…Peggy, I need to call…I think I bit you. I need…” Peggy brought her hand to her neck again, and her fingers came away clean. “I need to call my doctor and see what to do.” She ran out of the apartment, pulling her robe about her as she went, leaving Peggy, again, by herself.

Howl was sat right next to her, looking up at her with big, clouded eyes as if wondering why she would cuddle Angie and not him. Curious to see what had worried Angie so badly, Peggy walked into the entrance where she had a mirror, and pulled back her hair to reveal a large red spot and several little red dots where the skin had broken.

Angie came back into the room, her phone pushed to her ear. She was silent until the other party picked up. “Hi, Doctor Strange, it’s Angie. I think I might have a situation…No, no–I bit someone…No, I was human when I did it. Is lycanthropy transmitted, I mean, does it matter what I look like? It’s my spit, either way, right?…Oh, it does matter…No, I wasn’t angry. Even if I was, I’d probably throw a punch…Oh…You mean why was I biting?…Well, my girlfriend came home and–” She looked down at her phone and Peggy could see that the call had been terminated. “He hung up on me.”

“It sounds like I’m safe.” But as glad as she was she had–as she’d suspected–nothing to worry about, there was a deeper concern this connoted. She locked the front door and went to the sofa, then patted the side for Angie to come sit with her. Howl took the invitation and happily jumped up with his mistress. Peggy pushed him off and took Angie’s hand. “Come sit with me.” She waited for Angie, who was still fretting and addled, to be settled with Peggy’s arms around her before asking, “how are things going…being a werewolf?”

Angie took a few deep breaths. At the crest of each one, Peggy thought she might speak, but it wasn’t until the second or third that she managed to get words out. “It depends on the day. I think it’s what got me my job. So I can’t hate it. But everything else…having to drug myself once a month, having furies proclaim me their queen…I don’t like that stuff so much. Just now, I thought I might have fated you to it, too.” She wriggled closer, between Peggy and the back of the lounge.

“Angie…I think you should sign the SRA. I’ve thought about this a lot since I’ve been away, and I think it’s the best option for you. You’ve had Dr. Strange helping you, but you need more than he can provide. And we both know he won’t stay out of jail forever.” She stroked Angie’s hair when she felt her girlfriend tense up. “It could give you the help you need. The government has all kinds of resources to help you. Besides, you’re too dangerous to use in battle.”

“See, Peggy, that’s it right there. I can’t sign because I can’t fight.” Her hands came up in protest and Peggy took them, and laced their fingers together, trying to soothe Angie into accepting her words.

“I know. And I don’t think they will. But we need you out of jail.”

“Peggy, I don’t know about this. Dr. Strange’s pretty sure it’s going to end in a blood bath if we sign. Why, are you signing?”

“I already have. But let’s not compare me to you. I’m a veteran; you’re an artist.” She leaned down to kiss Angie’s hair. Her beautiful, silly actress. Peggy wrapped her arms around Angie, pulling her closer. Her body was bigger and heavier since she’d become a wolf. A lot stronger, too. Whatever she did to get this way left her feeling heavy and warm. It was a good look. “But let’s also not compare you to Dr. Strange. He’s a sorcerer. You’re sick. You need help and the government can provide it, if you’ll let them. You’ve got to know you’re a special case.”

“I don’t know…” Angie slumped against Peggy and let her head rest between Peggy’s breast and her collar bone. “I don’t know if ti’s for me…”

“I thought you might say that. In that case, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” —

The next morning, Peggy brought Angie to the rooftop hangar of the Secret Service building where she worked. The sun was showing, but neither fully over the horizon nor fully visible above so many sky scrapers. The helicopter whirred, but the pilot waved her and Angie over. Angie seemed to hesitate, so Peggy took her hand and pulled her along. “It’s the only way to get there.”

The flight didn’t take long, except if Peggy were to stop and consider just how far from shore they were being taken. It was too far to swim, and certainly far enough that it would slip the minds of the general populace for weeks, even months at a time. Any sort of things might go on here, the Raft might even fill up with water and sink, and the rest of the world might never find out.

However, the helicopter finally hovered, then the pilot called her forward to giver her clearance information, and below them the prison moved to the surface. Peggy took her seat once more and fastened her belt. Angie looked like she might be sick, or worried, and Peggy took her hand. “You don’t have to worry about anything. I just want you to hear what he has to say.”

Of course Steve had no idea they were coming. When Peggy then Angie was helped out of the helicopter and escorted to Steve’s holding cell, he seemed surprised to see them. Peggy carefully monitored her expression so as to look superior enough in her judgement that Angie would be coaxed into signing, but not so superior as to be overtly cruel to her friend. “Angie Martinelli, meet Captain America.”

Steve’s only indication that he was to expect a visitor was when the warden arrived with a toothbrush, toothpaste, and a bar of soap in the middle of the day. He wasn’t allowed a razor, but the few days of stubble didn’t bother him nearly as much as having his showers monitored and his toothbrush held hostage, so he took grateful advantage of the bar of soap to wash not only his face but to spot-check as well after the warden turned his back. It was undignified, but he’d pushed through worse, and if he was to see Ross, he wasn’t going to look for a minute as though the Raft was succeeding at stripping him of his dignity.

When he was feeling decently refreshed, he passed the toiletries back to the warden through the service chute without a word, then took a seat to await his guest – then leaped to his feet when he saw Peggy enter his field of vision.

“Peg – ”

“Angie Martinelli, meet Captain America.”

Steve frowned and fell silent at the expression Peggy wore – not smug, exactly, but calculating. She was there on a mission, and Steve was pretty sure it was more for the woman Steve knew only from pictures than for himself; she never called him Captain America except to be sly. He watched Peggy for a moment more, then turned to her companion.

“Angie. Steve is fine. Pretty sure I’m getting stripped of my rank soon.”

He returned his gaze to Peggy on the last few words. It had been one thing for Tony to show up, play at having been betrayed, all to get Steve to register – at some point, Steve should have seen that coming. But for Peggy to show up to…what, make an example of him?

Surely she wouldn’t. He was probably just getting paranoid from the solitude.

“Too bad we couldn’t meet sooner,” he said, but he was still looking at Peggy, so he finally addressed her. “How’ve you been?”

Peggy hadn’t told her where they were going. Now Angie could see why Peggy hadn’t even tried. When they’d boarded the helicopter, Angie thought that perhaps they were going somewhere hard to reach, or somewhere an aerial entrance would be expected. She had never ridden in a helicopter before, but she knew there was something amiss when they headed out to sea. “Peggy, where are we going?” she asked for the fourth or sixth time that morning.

“To visit someone in prison.”

Prison–she hadn’t mentioned that before. “Prison? Angie, there’s no east-coast Alcatraz.” There weren’t the islands for it.

“It’s hard to explain. You’ll see when we get there.”

And after a thirty minute flight, she did. Out the window, Angie saw a large ship appear from under the surface. The water drained and the roof opened, and they landed. She couldn’t hear the sound of the roof over that of the rotating blades, but as the engine died and the great plates moved back into place, the room echoed with a great industrial groan.

Some uniformed man approached Peggy and soluted her. Peggy responded in kind and brought her hand down, prompting the man to do the same. It wasn’t a young man, either. Angie wondered just how high up Peggy went.

“Director Carter.”

“Major. This is Ms. Martinelli. She will be joining me.” They exchanged a few more lines, but Angie found herself distracted by the size of the room and by whether or not they were, in fact, submerged or not. She hadn’t felt a dip. Would she?

It was only when Peggy placed a hand on her arm that Angie realized they were walking deeper into this submerged fortress. She followed, a half step behind Peggy until they reached the end of the hall, turned, and continued towards a locked hatch. The Major scanned a card, then twisted open the door. Peggy walked in, but Angie hesitated again. The room had only one other door and one other occupant.

Angie recognized him from news broadcasts and billboards, toys and pin-up posters. And from the time she had looked through Peggy’s camera roll. “Angie Martinelli, meet Captain America.” Angie frowned and looked away.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to be here. She hadn’t heard a single news story or buzzfeed article about this. She hadn’t heard this over the radio on her commute. “What are you doing here?” He was supposed to be changing things, making it so she didn’t have to register.

Angie looked at Peggy, angry and upset, and stepped away. She hadn’t known what to expect, but this was unfathomable.

The moment she saw Steve, Peggy knew that she couldn’t maintain her tough front. He wore prison clothes that weren’t tailored and looked so absolutely unsuited to his broad and lean frame. His face like he’d merely gone a weekend without shaving, but there was something different about his eyes. Steve had spent days now down here and his gaze showed it. He hadn’t been able to gaze off into the distance or see the light of day, and it changed his appearance somewhat. It might not have been noticeable to most, but Peggy saw the ever so slight change in demeanor. It worried her.

She relaxed--her shoulders became less squared and she lowered her righteous gaze, then approached the chair that had been brought, she assumed, for her. “I’ve been better. By the looks of it, you’re doing worse, but I won’t lie--I’ve been better.” She drummed her finger nails against the metal folding chair t-t-t-t t-t-t-t t-t-t-t t-t-t-t. “I didn’t find out you were here until yesterday. I came home yesterday.”

Peggy glanced back at Angie. She was surprised to see Steve here--as surprised as Peggy had felt when she’d found out--and wore her emotions on the surface. “And then learning that in spite of needing help and her doctor refusing to cooperate and sign the the SRA...Angie won’t sign either.” Steve, what were you thinking? She couldn’t bring herself to ask that. “So not great.”

“But I feel like there’s more to the story here.” She pulled out the chair, sat down, and scooted under the table. “You were arrested early,” she pointed out.

Frontier Peggy, Steve & Angie (28 August 2016)

#peggy carter #steve rogers #angie martinelli #3c-ifyouneedacupofsugar #a-man-outof-time #frontier

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backwardsandinhighheels1945-blog · 8 years ago

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Frontier Peggy, Steve & Angie (28 August 2016)

Howl whined and grabbed her up in his forelegs, then seemed to realize that he, himself, wanted to be held, and tried to figure out where was her lap he could curl up in. Peggy pushed herself up off the floor so she could sit up against the wall, and Howl nosed his way through her arms and onto her legs, giving everything a good sniff as he went. “Oh, you nasty pooch, I love you too.” His ears perked up at the sound of her voice and as he sat on her lap, he began to lick at her face until she shone. Peggy pursed her lips against the onslaught of affection and stroked her fingers through Howl’s fur. “I love you, yes I do, yes I do.” But Howl wouldn’t be sated. He finished licking her face--for the time being--and tried again to curl up in her lap. He was far too big to be a lap dog, but he tried again and again to curl up between her legs, as if once more around in a circle would make room for him, that he’d grow smaller or her lap would grow deeper. Each time around, Peggy dug her nails deep into his coat and scratched at his back, his shoulders, his neck, his legs.

Finally, Howl placed himself on the ground, having successfully nudged Peggy’s legs far enough apart that he could sit down between them and let her pet and scratch him. Still, he whimpered on.

“Someone’s glad you’re home.” Peggy looked up to see Angie, dressed in a dressing gown, standing over her.

“Of course I’m happy to see you. Even if I’m not knocking you off your feet. I saw that, English--it wasn’t graceful.”

“So...was the trip nice?” Angie took a seat across the counter from Peggy on one of the bar stools.

Angie’s face broadened in pride. “I love it, Peggy. You need to come see the show; you’ll love it. It’s about the Pacific Theater. Nellie--that’s me--is a nurse--” Peggy resisted the urge to roll her eyes “--and she falls for this rich Frenchman, then she falls out of love with him because he was previously married to an islander woman.”

Peggy shook out her towel and placed it back over the oven door. “That sounds about right.”

Angie’s hands were up over her face, hiding everything but her eyes. Finally, after a couple, horrified seconds Angie said through her muffling hands, “oh God, Peggy, I’m so sorry. I don’t know...if...Peggy, I need to call...I think I bit you. I need...” Peggy brought her hand to her neck again, and her fingers came away clean. “I need to call my doctor and see what to do.” She ran out of the apartment, pulling her robe about her as she went, leaving Peggy, again, by herself.

Angie came back into the room, her phone pushed to her ear. She was silent until the other party picked up. “Hi, Doctor Strange, it’s Angie. I think I might have a situation...No, no--I bit someone...No, I was human when I did it. Is lycanthropy transmitted, I mean, does it matter what I look like? It’s my spit, either way, right?...Oh, it does matter...No, I wasn’t angry. Even if I was, I’d probably throw a punch...Oh...You mean why was I biting?...Well, my girlfriend came home and--” She looked down at her phone and Peggy could see that the call had been terminated. “He hung up on me.”

“It sounds like I’m safe.” But as glad as she was she had--as she’d suspected--nothing to worry about, there was a deeper concern this connoted. She locked the front door and went to the sofa, then patted the side for Angie to come sit with her. Howl took the invitation and happily jumped up with his mistress. Peggy pushed him off and took Angie’s hand. “Come sit with me.” She waited for Angie, who was still fretting and addled, to be settled with Peggy’s arms around her before asking, “how are things going...being a werewolf?”

Angie took a few deep breaths. At the crest of each one, Peggy thought she might speak, but it wasn’t until the second or third that she managed to get words out. “It depends on the day. I think it’s what got me my job. So I can’t hate it. But everything else...having to drug myself once a month, having furies proclaim me their queen...I don’t like that stuff so much. Just now, I thought I might have fated you to it, too.” She wriggled closer, between Peggy and the back of the lounge.

“Angie...I think you should sign the SRA. I’ve thought about this a lot since I’ve been away, and I think it’s the best option for you. You’ve had Dr. Strange helping you, but you need more than he can provide. And we both know he won’t stay out of jail forever.” She stroked Angie’s hair when she felt her girlfriend tense up. “It could give you the help you need. The government has all kinds of resources to help you. Besides, you’re too dangerous to use in battle.”

“I know. And I don’t think they will. But we need you out of jail.”

“Peggy, I don’t know about this. Dr. Strange’s pretty sure it’s going to end in a blood bath if we sign. Why, are you signing?”

“I don’t know...” Angie slumped against Peggy and let her head rest between Peggy’s breast and her collar bone. “I don’t know if ti’s for me...”

“I thought you might say that. In that case, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” ---

#3c-ifyouneedacupofsugar #a-man-outof-time #frontier

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backwardsandinhighheels1945-blog · 8 years ago

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To: Stark, Tony From: [email protected] Subject: A Request

I appreciate that you would like to take care of this discreetly and confidentially. I care for Steve, as well, and would hate for anything severe to befall him. However, I must point out, so that there are no misconceptions, that though we served together, Steve and I have always had our differences. I was, perhaps, the last true imperialist alive in 2015, while Steve never was. Steve never lost sight of the humanity of the enemy combatants.

Therefore, I don’t agree with him, but I cannot fault the logic which brought him to his conclusion. He doesn’t play political games and he doesn’t compromise. More often than not, it’s admirable. I’ve wondered before if we only find his views inconvenient because they don’t yield to our political agenda. Then again, I don’t think he realizes that a well-crafted compromise leaves nobody satisfied. He’s not willing to be unsatisfied; he wants others to concede entirely.

He doesn’t play political games, and I don’t fault him for hating them. But he doesn’t know how, either, in times like these, when they matter.

I can mention it again, Mr. Stark, but remember--I’m not in the USA right now, and I cannot come back until I’ve finished my work.

Director Carter Thunderbolts Initiative Secret Service

August 28, 2016 | Tony & Peggy

#tony stark

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backwardsandinhighheels1945-blog · 8 years ago

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To: Stark, Tony From: [email protected] Subject: A Request

Mr. Stark,

How nice to hear from you. It has been a while, and I doubt my traveling has made it any easier to keep in touch.

It’s similarly my understanding that you remain closer to Steve than I, at the moment. You know my feelings about the legislature, and you know Steve’s. We’ve spoken briefly on the matter, and were unable to reconcile our differences. That being said, it is in my interests to persuade him not to err.

However, Mr. Stark, I hope that it is his well being, and not his reputation, that has your interest.

Director Carter Thunderbolts Initiative Secret Service

August 28, 2016 | Tony & Peggy

@backwardsandinhighheels1945

To: Carter, Margaret From: Tony Stark <[email protected]> Subject: A Request

Dear Ms. Carter,

Tony Stark. I’m afraid we haven’t spoken in a while, I hope you’ve been well.

I am contacting you, admittedly in haste, because I have a fairly sensitive request. As I’m sure you know, the Registration deadline is fast approaching, and Steve has recently taken a stand against it in front of the press. It is my understanding that you two remain close, so I wonder if I may count on you to have a word with him about this.

This is definitely not the most flattering favor I’ve asked in my life, but I’m confident you understand the urgency of this situation. Whether or not you’ll say “yes,” I would appreciate your discretion.

I’m sorry our first contact in months is me asking for favors. Again, I hope you’ve been well, and I hope we’ll talk again under less taxing circumstances.

Sincerely,

Tony Stark Head Technologist Stark Industries

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backwardsandinhighheels1945-blog · 8 years ago

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Peggy gripped the branch upon which she was laying tighter with her legs and free. She had her bag propped up in a fork in the branch, upon which her chin was resting, and one hand maneuvered the binoculars from side to side as she scoured the visible windows. For a moment, she felt like she might fall, just at Karla’s words, but after a breath, she reassured herself that she was still wedged more or less safely in place.

Peggy pulled the binoculars away from her face and turned to see Karla hovering with a branch phasing through one of her legs, giving her an amputated look. “Karla Sofen.” Peggy was surprised that Karla was whom the FBI had sent after her. Someone as notorious and potentially dangerous usually wasn’t sent beyond national borders, certainly not alone. Surprised, but not dismayed. “I’m glad you made it. Was the flight alright?” She turned her eyes back into the binoculars and continued to watch for any movement. So far, the place was deserted. Given another hour of watching, just to be sure, she would proceed with her second phase.

If nobody were to come into focus, she could go in herself, or have Karla do it--it would be easier for Karla. However, if anyone were to still be inside, they would have to wait long into the night before placing bugs. Peggy didn’t care how indestructible Karla was or how much she could accomplish. What was in those walls was bigger than Karla or any of the supers. Intelligence could crumble an empire, and Peggy was wary, to say the least, of Karla’s amateur methods. She thought too highly of herself. It could very easily grow to be a problem if she weren’t clear and careful with her, and gave her enough to do to feel important.

Containment Area for Relocated Nazis -- Peggy (Open) 17 & 22 June 2016

#doctorkarlasofen #containment area for relocated nazis

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backwardsandinhighheels1945-blog · 8 years ago

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Wondrous Land (Peggy & Natasha) 20 July 2016

For the first time in weeks, summer felt like summer. The temperature may have been only marginally warmer in Moscow as compared to Antananarivo, but when Peggy finally finished with international customs--it was astonishing to Peggy just how long this particular customs was taking and how many different people she had to speak to about her intentions in the country--it was eight at night and still light out. Even as she pulled her light jacket tighter around herself as she waited outside for her Rescuers contact to arrive, Peggy’s lips turned up in the late evening light, glad to finally have her long summer days back.

As ever, Peggy had kept her grey suit for traveling. These days, it was the easiest thing to wear and always look like she was right where she needed to be. While waiting for Natasha, she idly looked over those coming and going from Moscow. So many people wore brands Peggy recognized from New York. It gave her a sense of security to be once again in the know with such things. Women wore tall heels and had across the board put incredible effort into their appearances. And so many Adidas track suits. It wasn’t the first thing Peggy thought when she thought of Russians--she was far more familiar with the famous black and white propaganda Stalin had printed because the regime could not afford to waste colored ink. She had assumed more of that culture might have been preserved in the intermittent years, and the Track Suit Gang of Brooklyn was simply an American-Russian phenomenon. Peggy stood corrected. Next to such intention--even when traveling there was impressive attention paid to their appearance--Peggy almost felt dowdy and plain.

Finally, after a several minutes of waiting, Peggy saw Natasha approach. She picked up here bag and threw the strap over her shoulder, then stood to meet her. Peggy reached a hand out to her fellow Rescuer. “Agent Romanoff, thank you for meeting me here on such short notice. Did the trip treat you well?”

#natasha romanoff #peggy carter #backwardsandinhighheels #nataromanovas #wondrous land

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backwardsandinhighheels1945-blog · 8 years ago

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23 June 2016, 6:45

Steve, I didn't say that.

Adventures in Puppy Sitting (Steve & Peggy)

#a man outof time #adventures in puppy sitting

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backwardsandinhighheels1945-blog · 8 years ago

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Peggy...my darling. You're here, and you're a free character. I think? Has the game finally thrown me a bone???

#Peggy carter #backwardsandinhighheels

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backwardsandinhighheels1945-blog · 8 years ago

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23 June 2016, 5:20

Perhaps. Steve, I don’t want to fight with you. We so seldom do, and never over text messages. I’ll try to come home next week, but I have to stop off in Madagascar first.

Adventures in Puppy Sitting (Steve & Peggy)

#a-man-outof-time #steve rogers #peggy carter #backwardsandinhighheels #adventures in puppy sitting

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backwardsandinhighheels1945-blog · 8 years ago

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Water Rising (Peggy & Jan & Natasha & Tony & Hank) 22 July 2016

“but then...well, one thing led to another, you know?” Angie was sobbing into her microphone now. “Nobody would have known if I was still a nobody.”

Peggy listened quietly, conscious both of Angie’s need to vent her pent up, hopeless feelings and of the company she kept in the little hotel room. “Angie...you can call the police about them, you know that, right?”

“I did, I did. Lynn’s being really good to me and asked the police to wait by the back door, but they can’t keep everyone away. I don’t know what’s worse, Peg, the haters or the furries.”

“Furries?” she asked.

Angie changed how she was sitting, and the camera moved about. “It’s this fad. Maybe it’s not, but they’re these cosplayers--they dress in animal costumes and I think are sexually attracted to animals. They’ve decided that I’m their...leader? Queen?”

Peggy had to hold back a snort of laughter and ducked off the screen for a moment while she gathered her senses. This clearly bothered Angie, but the idea was so ridiculous. “I’m sorry,” she said, still fighting a smile. “I’m sorry, but they what?”

Angie looked back at her so nonplussed that Peggy managed to fight the smile off her face. “They gather around the exit and shout abut how shout about how they want to pet my ears and beg me to shift. But we can’t keep them at bay like we can with the others, since they’ve only ever said things to me.”

“Ange...”

“I don’t know if it’ll go away if I sign or if it’ll only get worse.”

Peggy bit her lip, thinking for a moment before responding. “Angie, I’m sorry this is happening to you. I don’t think it’ll go away...but hold off on signing, okay? There’s still a lot at stake if you sign now, and there’s still time.” Peggy had seen this before. It would only get more difficult to leave the country as the deadline got closer and closer, but this wasn’t the time to capitulate yet.” Natasha got off the bed and went into the bathroom. Peggy seized the opportunity. “Do you trust me?”

Angie sniffled, then nodded.

Peggy dropped her voice low so that Natasha couldn’t overhear from the bathroom. “I’m working on a plan to get you out of the country, if nothing else.” Angie’s eyes widened. “It’s a last resort, but we can find you asylum in England if you like.”

“Peggy, I can’t leave New York. I have a job, and everyone knows I’m a werewolf.”

“Acting jobs don’t last forever. You can try again in West End. At least in England, you’ll be safe.”

“My whole family lives in New York. I can’t leave them.” Peggy grit her teeth and looked to the ceiling. How many times had she wanted to keep some idiot in her life safe? Of all of them, this seemed the most avoidable. There was no cause, no need, no greater endeavor--Angie was just being stubborn.

“Angie, it’s neither forever, no will they be barred from visiting you. Please,” the toilet flushed and Natasha came out of the bathroom. “Just consider it.”

“Peggy,” Peggy was glad she wore ear buds. “I can’t do that. Thank you, but I can’t do that. My life is here.”

Peggy folded her hands under her chin and smiled, like their conversation had turned sweet and innocent. “I know you do, and I find it quite fetching.” She winked, trying to signal that the discussion was over and left at a draw.

“Fine. I’ll consider it. But that’s not a yes.”

“Hmm,” Peggy winked. “I had a feeling you’d come around.” Natasha was setting up her own laptop. “Alright, darling. I think I ought to let you go, because my partner needs to use the internet. Promise you’ll be careful around the furries?”

“I don’t think they’re dangerous...Peggy, I wish you were here. It would all be better if you were here. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too. But I have a feeling I won’t be much longer.” She kissed the air towards her camera and waved her goodbye.

“Call later?”

“Of course. Whenever I can.”

“You don’t call enough.”

“I know. But I love you.”

“I love you, too, English.” The skype call blinked out and Peggy leaned back against the chair. “It’s all yours.”

#backwardsandinhighheels #nataromanovas #thefuturistknows #when-wasps-fly #hankphillipmccoy #water rising

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