Title: Of Flowers and Dances
Author: AoN (bellalinguista)
Word Count: 2,700
Summary: "Oh, you should have seen the bouquet of flowers she gave me when I made my Broadway debut," Angie told Steve with a faint smile. "I wanted to return the gesture when SHIELD was established, but they don't really do bouquets for founding a government agency."
Notes: Based off the conversation between Steve and Angie from my fic, Lapses.
Chapter One: Flowers
The vase filled with the most spectacular roses in front of the mirror of the new girl's section in the shared ensemble dressing room caused quite the commotion and speculation among the other actresses. There was no bother for hushed whispers as the message written on the card was passed around verbally ("Betty! I can't believe you opened someone else's card!" "Oh, please, it was open for everyone to see already! Who do you think 'E' is?")
Angie could not help but approach her section with a smug smile that only grew slightly with each male name she overheard starting with the letter E. Smile now genuine, Angie plucked the small stationary card from the roses. The familiar handwriting caused a flutter in the pit of her stomach – she chalked it up to debut night jitters.
The girl to her left leaned over and playfully smacked Angie's shoulder. "Debut show flowers, how sweet!" she gushed. "What's the lucky guy's name, huh? Let me guess – Ethan!"
"We already guessed that," someone said to Angie's right.
"Eric?"
"That too."
Instead of replying, Angie lifted the card up to get a better read.
'Break a leg, dear! – E.'
Among the many guesses of 'Edwards,' 'Evans,' and even the stray 'Edwin,' Angie kept the answer to herself. It was her own little secret, one that she did not have to share: the identity of the mysterious sender whose lips were often the same shade of those deep red rose pedals. It was equally often a shade of lipstick Angie enjoyed smudging from time to time.
Resting the card against the vase, Angie leaned forward to get a better look at her reflection in the mirror. It was time to get that stage make-up on, just like the girls showed her throughout the week Angie observed. It would soon become second nature, they told her, but for now, Angie was going through her mental checklist as best as she could.
It was not nerves that clouded her mind.
That also wasn't to say she wasn't nervous. She most definitely was. Soon, Angie would take her first step on stage in front of a live audience. She would recite her one line, midway through the second act, and perform all the new dance steps she had to learn in such a short amount of time. She would be doing all that to a sold out house.
Angie had plenty to be nervous about, but her mind was preoccupied by one person – the one person Angie desperately wanted to be here tonight, but couldn't make it.
'They gave me the night shift and no one will cover for me, love. I'm sorry.'
Couldn't she have called in? Feign falling ill, Angie suggested, but she was met with an excuse about a new chief running the office and something about impressions. Still not completely aware what Peggy did for a living, Angie had found herself wanting to push the issue even further – which government agency did she work for exactly? She'd talk to this chief personally. She'd make him feel even more comfortable than those colleagues of hers at the Griffith. It would look like child's play.
Peggy insisted that she would make it up to her – that she would attend every other performance this week, in the center of the front row. Angie told her not to be ridiculous and then left the mansion not in the best of moods, but these roses… they sure did help improve things.
And it was not as though Peggy had not heard the line or seen the dance routines before, considering that Angie rehearsed as often as possible in one of their living rooms, but… that was not the same as seeing it all come together on stage.
'You'll tell me all about it in the morning, won't you?' Angie recalled Peggy asking before she left. Angie hadn't responded. She left in a huff.
A tap on her shoulder tore her away from her thoughts and back to a reality where she only had a few minutes to get into her first costume for the first act. They were going to call places soon and they needed to be ready to go.
No more day dreaming.
This was it.
With her make up done, Angie rose from her place at the mirror and took one last look at the flowers at her station, at the note written in Peggy's elegant handwriting. So her English couldn't be here in person, but she was thinking of Angie and, well, that was still pretty good, right?
After changing into her costume, Angie followed after a small group of her fellow performers to take their places in the wing, near the main curtain that would soon be drawn. The dancer in front of Angie turned her head over her should to whisper, "You know if you take a step back and lean forward a bit, you can see the audience in the first few rows."
"Oh?" Angie whispered back.
"Yeah! Why don't you try it out? Maybe you'll spot Mr. E!"
She highly doubted it, but for the sake of illusion, Angie took a step back and leaned forward as she was told to grant herself a peek of the chattering audience. Some were chatting while others flipped through the program as they waited for the production to begin – any minute now, a few were probably telling themselves as they checked their pocket watches. There were even a couple audience members who already looked dreadfully bored. Angie guessed they were probably dragged to the theatre against their wills. Their tickets could have gone to those who wanted to be here, right? Especially those who wanted to be here, but were stuck in the office, like-
Suddenly, Angie froze in the slightly awkward position she found herself in.
She must have gasped audibly. She caught the attention of the dancer who revealed this little secret.
"Did you spot him?"
"No," Angie quickly lied, standing up straight. Well, it wasn't a complete lie, no. She had not seen a mystery man, only because there was no such man, but Angie did spot the sender of those beautiful red roses.
Peggy Carter was not at her government office.
No, Peggy Carter was sitting slightly to the right in the third or fourth row. In the quick glance Angie managed to get, she saw Peggy sitting up, eager, watching and waiting for the curtain to rise. How long had she been there? Who covered her shift? Was there even a shift that needed to be covered to begin with? Did Peggy read the program already? Did she see Angie's short, little mention?
Then a rather dreadful question crossed her mind: had she really seen Peggy or was her mind just playing tricks on her?
With every intention of getting a second look, Angie leaned forward again, but the house lights dimmed, making it rather difficult to spy on the audience. The orchestra pit came to life and the music began to swell. The hushed voices become silent and the curtain started to rise.
Angie's heart was beating hard and fast. It was deafening. She wasn't even able to hear her cast mate in front of her wish her luck. Oh, God – did they say 'good luck?' Surely they didn't – you know, since that was actually considered to be bad luck. More than likely, they said 'break a leg,' right?
You know how did express 'break a leg?'
That handwritten note in her shared dressing room, penned by Peggy, who was probably sitting in the third or fourth row, but Angie wouldn't be able to know for certain until the end of act one.
As the curtain came down and the lights grew bright once again in the house for intermission, a breathless Angie ignored the not so secretive whisperings coming from her cast mates ("Oh, yes, Mr. E is definitely here tonight!") and she peeked out at the audience, most of which had retreated out to the lobby to stretch their legs, among other things.
"Third or fourth row to the right," Angie mumbled to herself.
"To the right, huh?" someone repeated. What was her name again? Betty?
"Third or fourth row," confirmed another. "Is that him, Angie? Well, aint he a decked out dreamboat!"
She didn't know who they signaled out, nor did Angie bother to look. She didn't have to, not when she found the person she had been looking for in the crowd. Angie hadn't imagined a thing: there she truly was, sitting in her seat still, flipping through the program in an attempt to kill time. Angie should have known Peggy would be here, that Peggy couldn't have missed this important night.
"Well, Angie?"
The corners of her lips tugged into a smile and her cheeks flushed. "Come on, ladies," Angie replied. "We need to get ready for act two."
Not that her response satisfied them in the slightest.
They followed Angie back into their dressing room and their never-ending questions came with them. A glance at her roses turned her smile into a smirk. They would have to accept the fact that E would remain a mystery since they had more important matters to attend to. Make-up needed to be touched up, costumes needed to be changed, and Angie needed to prepare to deliver her line.
By the end of intermission, the questions ceased, or maybe Angie had succeeded in drowning them out by humming the opening number they were about to perform to herself. The second act went by faster, more of a blur than the first. It was all such a whirlwind: this had been her dream. This was now her reality. She was gracing a Broadway stage! Sure, it was in a small part in the ensemble, but everyone had to start somewhere, right?
This was her start.
She worked hard for a year to get to this start – all those trains rides to auditions that lead to nowhere and all those double shifts at the automat to cover rent, headshots, and acting classes, among other things. Those all lead to this start, Angie reminded herself as the house lights came up once more. With the rest of the ensemble, Angie approached the edge of the stage to take a bow – her first bow! They were met with mild applause, but Angie had braced herself for such. Of course she didn't expect a standing ovation. That was just silly.
As Angie rose from her bow, she looked out into the audience – the third or fourth row to the right, to be more exact. No, she hadn't expected a standing ovation, but there Peggy was, on her feet, still applauding. Angie's smile grew wide as their eyes met and she bit back a small laugh as she made a quick mental note to thank Peggy for putting herself in the awkward situation. Angie knew Peggy was not a fan of unwanted attention and, right now, the patrons around her were either glancing or shifting uncomfortably in their seats as they probably wondered why this woman was so enthused about the ensemble.
"We gotta move!" a hissed whisper came from Angie's left, followed by a gentle push, causing her to momentarily lose Peggy in the crowd.
With her cast mates, Angie retreated to the side of the stage, allowing her fellow actors to have their own moments to bow. Angie continued to smile and continue to clap, but every now and again, Angie caught herself stealing glances out to the audience, trying to find Peggy again. If she could have, Angie would have rushed off stage at once, but she had to wait for the curtain to fall.
As soon as it had, Angie took off for the dressing room, dodging cast, crew, and congratulations as she went. The stage make-up wasn't too ridiculous – if anything, it made her look like a young starlet. Like Ginger Rogers, even! Angie decided to keep it on, she'd be out of the theatre faster that way.
Not that she was rushing for any peculiar reason.
She wiggled out of her costume and haphazardly threw it back on its hanger. On second thought, Angie doubled back to straighten it out. She didn't want to give the director, stage manager, producers, or, well, anyone, to find even the tiniest reasons to give her the boot.
Angie slipped back into her own simple and modest blue dress and dark heels. Peggy had helped her pick out tonight's attire the day Angie discovered she had won the part. She wanted to look good for her debut performance. Peggy had told her she would look more than good – she was so beautiful. Blushing at the memory, Angie's gaze lingered on the roses once more. She picked up the card and stuck it into the frame of her mirror, where it would remain always – that corner of all the mirrors of all the dressing rooms of all the different productions that would come in the future.
For each one, Angie would have her dear English wishing her luck.
Angie slung her purse over her shoulder and made her way to the stage door, leaving her roses behind. Stepping outside and onto the sidewalk, Angie spotted a familiar face waiting across the street.
"Oh, Miss Martinelli!" Peggy grinned as Angie crossed the road. "May I have your autograph? You were quite wonderful tonight!"
"You weren't too shabby yourself there, Peg," Angie remarked, folding her arms across her chest. "No one to cover your shift, huh?" she added, raising her eyebrows.
Peggy reached out and placed a hand on Angie's forearm. "Truly, there wasn't," she insisted. "I'm now indebted to Daniel – maybe we could get him some tickets?"
"Yeah, maybe – speaking of tickets how did you-"
"I may have purchased it from the box office as soon as we knew the date of your first performance," Peggy confessed, looking down at her purse that she had placed on the sidewalk while waiting for Angie to leave the theatre.
"You didn't have to do that, English!" Angie exclaimed. "I could have gotten you a seat, no problem!"
"Oh, I was well aware, but I wanted to support you in anyway I could," Peggy explained, taking a quick glance around. "And what of your family…?"
"They wanted to be here, really – Nonna, especially, but you know, show ends late and the trains…" Angie replied, waving a hand in the air. "No big deal. They'll come to the matinee this weekend. You're here though! That's all that matters and, uh, thanks for the roses. They're really lovely."
Once more, Peggy glanced down, perhaps to hide her sheepish smile. "Consider them a taste of my own theatrics," she said, gingerly picking up her purse from the ground.
Angie tilted her head to the side. Her brow furrowed in confusion.
"I'm, umm, I'm actually very terrible when it comes to… this sort of thing," Peggy confessed, her voice trailing off slightly. "And I hate to admit that I may have asked Howard, of all people, for a bit of help," she murmured.
Even more perplexed, Angie continued to watch in silence as Peggy, very carefully, unzipped her purse, as if afraid she would break or damage something unintentionally. When Peggy frowned lightly, Angie did the same, but it soon disappeared and was replaced by a wide smile. Feeling a bit misty-eyed, Angie blinked furiously as she reached out to take what Peggy pulled out of her purse.
A single violet flower.
It was missing a couple pedals, perhaps now at the bottom of Peggy's purse, but still.
It was a violet, more gorgeous than all twelve roses combined.
"They, umm," Peggy began, struggling as she watched Angie bring the flower up to her nose. "They're suppose to symbolize-"
"I know," Angie interrupted, well aware that this was not Peggy's strong suit and just how much it must have taken to give Angie this little gift. Even still, Peggy had a hard time being close, at letting people in.
This wasn't just Angie's start. It was Peggy's too.
To be continued.