The kids are beyond excited to have Natalie in the house. She's younger than their parents, but older than the two of them. "She a kid, but mature," they say with the kind of righteous insistence only eight year olds can manage.
Natalie is at first deeply flustered by having two kids who aren't even ten follow her around like she was in the Davey Crockett movie.
But then, then one day she's actually okay with it. One of them says something to her and the other one kicks his shin and tells him to be quiet and Angie catches Natalie smiling fondly and she has to hide her own smile and then call and tell Peggy what happened.
"Marvelous," she says dryly.
That night, their last in the US for the next few weeks, they're both in the bathroom and the bathtub is running and Peggy's removing her make up at the vanity and Angie's checking the water temperature by dragging her hand along the surface of the water and they're warily circling the issue of what happened after dinner when Natalie taught the children how to drop down from the ceiling to attack Peggy.
"I think it's a good thing," Angie finally says.
"Of course it is. The little assassin child likes our children enough to share techniques."
"It was funny."
"They shouted 'death to the capitalist pigs' Angie."
She snorts. "If someone attacks they'll be prepared?"
Peggy glares. But the hard lines around her mouth softens and she ducks her head.
Angie stands up. Comes over and wraps wet hands around her and buries her face in Peggy's neck. "These capitalist pigs are so soft and squishy with these "emotions" are they not comrade," she asks in a bad Russian accent.
Peggy's hand comes up to clasp her arm. She pulls one of Angie's hand away so she can kiss her palm then quickly uses her sudden leverage like the fink she is to pull Angie into her lap.
There's that easiness again. That's enough to make Angie hyperventilate if she thinks about it too much. Peggy nuzzling her nose and kissing her softly and smiling and it's all so quiet and intimate that she doesn't want it to stop.
"The 'comrade' you grounded to the guest room better stop with the indoctrination of eight year olds or I'm gonna wear her ass like a shoe."
Angie's arms are now around Peggy's neck and she flexes. "You really know how to maintain the mood capitalist pig."
"Is that—" Her lips press to that spot behind Angie's ear "—a—" and then drag down to that one where her shoulders meet her neck "fact?" She nips and Angie squeals and slides out of her lap and onto the floor.
Peggy's quick to follow. Straddling Angie and slipping her warm hand under Angie's robe. Gasping when Angie flexes one thigh against her.
They forget about the running bathtub and the sleeping kids and the brooding child assassin down the hall and sink into one another with soft sighs and quiet giggles.
At least until the bath threatens to overflow and Peggy's mouth never leaves Angie's breast even as she blindly reaches up to turn the faucet off.
When they finally make it to the bath the water's ice cold.
####
Their flight out, on a SHIELD cargo plane, is at ten. Peggy's already packed and has her trunk in the car and is in the study on the phone back to work.
Angie is…half-packed.
If she and Peggy ever robbed a bank Peggy'd plan it to the T and Angie would just sit in the car and wait to improvise the getaway. Then Peggy's affectionately tell her she's an idiot and maybe they'd make out on the hood of the car afterwards.
She stops packing.
They should definitely rob a bank.
But not right now.
She slaps her cheeks to focus and goes back to the closet and pulls out four different dresses.
It isn't fair. Peggy's got an advantage. She just has to pack for going on spy missions and battling HYDRA. Angie's got to pack for watching her go on spy missions and battling HYDRA and for doing a four week engagement at one of the biggest clubs in Milan.
That's a couple more outfits.
And a helluva lot more rhinestones.
She finally gets it all in order and resolves to just pick up more dresses when she gets to Italy and she's dragging her trunk to the stairs when she notices the man standing at the foot of them.
Daniel looks…good. Or great.
Definitely distinguished. He's grown a mustache now that he doesn't have to worry about Peggy wrinkling her nose and raising a mocking eyebrow at him when he tries to kiss her. And there's more gray around the temple.
The fact that he doesn't scowl at Angie every time he sees her now also helps with the whole "distinguished" look.
"How'd the packing go," he asks with a kind smile.
"She'll lie, but Peggy's definitely taking more than me."
"It's all the shotguns and harpoon guns. Take up a lot of room."
"More than a rhinestone dress anyhow."
He doesn't offer to help her as she manhandles her trunk down the stairs.
The guy is really good in a lot of ways. He's got a good idea of what her and Peggy are but he doesn't sneer at them or make comments or turn them into McCarthy for being "perverts."
She and Peggy never talk about his remarkable tolerance and it'd be a cold day in hell before she ever asked Daniel about it. They're friendly and that's enough.
Just not too friendly.
He looked awfully pleased that Christmas the kids tackled her and one of 'em got her right in the shin. Sort of like he's looking now that she's halfway down the stairs.
He's not mean per se. He just takes petty pleasure in her more mundane misfortunes.
But the big stuff… When her niece gets polio and lost the use of her arm he heard about it and took a seat in the swing next to the one Angie's sulking in in the backyard and told her it'd get better.
He cares.
As much as any fella can when their wife leaves them for another woman.
"You got that," he asks about the trunk. She's nearly to the bottom and her face is bright red and she's not really sure what a hernia is but thinks she might have one.
"Yeah," she grunts.
Natalie saunters out of the kitchen eating an apple. She sees Daniel at the foot of the stairs and sees Angie struggling with her trunk and takes a bite of her apple and turns around.
"Babysitter?"
"My niece," she lies.
She's pretty sure Daniel's tolerance for her would take a beating if he knew a child assassin from Russia was sharing a house with his kids.
When she's on the last step Daniel takes the trunk from her and sets it down with next to no effort. "Is she just in town or—"
"I'm taking her to Italy with us. Birthday treat."
"Some aunt."
"I do what a can."
They work together to take the trunk out to the car. "Your niece maybe why my kids were playing 'Rise of the Proletariat' in the front yard."
Angie very nearly drops her end of the trunk on her toe while internally cursing Natalie to the day she dies.
"She's a joker," she laughs. Her voice high and impossibly fake. "Regular Ernie Kovac."
"Reminds me a lot of Peg's old friend. What was her name? Dottie?"
"Daniel..."
"I was ready to read Peggy the riot act for bringing her work home, but the kids say she's your friend." He sets his half of the trunk down and tips the other towards him so he can lean against it. It makes him look like the "incredible" investigator Peggy's claimed her is. "So tell me Angie, is there a reason I shouldn't have HUAC on the phone right now?"
She stutters.
Daniel glares.
She wonders if this is the moment the whole gig is up.
"Because the girl helped me rescue her in 52."
Peggy Carter has impeccable timing.
Daniel Sousa's got to be something else because instead of flipping his lid at the admission of spies living in his old house he just sets his jaw and raises his chin. He looks past Angie at his ex. "She why you're going to Italy too?"
"You know that's classified."
Now his eyes are narrowed and he doesn't look so nice. "I just need to know what I tell the kids if you decide to disappear again."
"That won't happen."
Daniel laughs. Shakes his head. A lock of hair falls free from where he's combed it back and is in his eyes. It makes him look dashing enough to be in the pictures. "One of these days Peggy. One of these days you're gonna learn to stop making promises you can't keep."
####
Angie thought what Daniel said was maybe a little lousy, but, in fact, it's so lousy that Peggy broods like a Bronte antihero in the back of the plane for half the trip across the Atlantic.
"Which of us is she mad at," Natalie asks out the side of her mouth.
"Her ex-husband."
Natalie studies Peggy's silhouette a moment before nodding and leaning back in her seat and closing her eyes. "Just as long as it isn't me."
She slugs the kid in the arm. That just makes Natalie smile indulgently as she pretends to sleep.
Angie gets up and resettles herself next to Peggy. They don't touch. At SHIELD Peggy's…proclivities are a secret. As far as anyone is concerned Peggy and Angie are just good friends. Best friends. And Angie's moved into Peggy's home to help with the kids.
She even keeps a separate bedroom. Just in case.
"All right Heathcliff, you gotta know Daniel was just being a butt this morning."
Peggy scoffs. "Of course I do."
"So what's with the antisocial routine?"
"I'm thinking."
Angie raises an eyebrow.
Peggy rolls her eyes. "And not even about what Daniel said."
"It was a low blow."
"Very much below the belt." She sighs and leans back.
"So what?" Angie lowers her voice. Leans over so Peggy has to look at her. "Your mission?"
Peggy's set her jaw. "I just find it deeply disturbing that Leviathan's scared enough to work with us rather than against us."
"Leviathan? Peggy, Natalie is here on her own."
"No, she isn't." She glances at Natalie over the top of her head. Just out of the corner of her eye. "A creature like that doesn't do anything without her masters' permission."
"She helped save me didn't she?"
"A decision she was likely punished for."
Natalie doesn't act any different. Doesn't look any different either. There are no scars or bruises.
Angie looks down at her own hands. At wrists unmarred. She's got no scars either.
Peggy's shaking her head. "No, the only reason that girl's here is because Leviathan is worried and if they're worried…" she gets as close as she can to a shudder.
Angie then has the urge to do something that's kind of on the cusp of being inappropriate in public. And she does it. Reaching over and lacing her fingers with Peggy's.
"You kicked HYDRA's butt clear across Europe. More than once. If they're really back then you'll do it again."
"And again and again," Peggy sighs. Then she laughs and it sounds awfully bitter and defeated for her. "I suppose I was just looking forward to going to Europe and not battling an evil occult-oriented spy organization out to rule the world."
"Next time English."
She murmurs an agreement and lays her head on top of Angie's and they fall asleep and if anyone asks they're just friends.
Really good friends.
####
When they arrive in Italy Peggy and Natalie hit the ground running. They're immediately busy traveling to and fro doing all that spy craft stuff they're great at and Angie doesn't really understand.
Thankfully she's too busy herself to feel jealous or frustrated or anything. Kicking off a four-week engagement at a world class club is hard. There's planning the set and teaching the dancers and threatening to stab the club owner if he doesn't stop trying to come into her dressing room unannounced.
Peggy, being busy trying to seek out the remnants of HYDRA, misses Angie's opening night and she's okay with it. Even after all the hard work she put into making it a success. When Peggy climbs into bed two hours after Angie she kisses her with cold lips and snuggles up against her and says "sorry," and Angie's okay because she knows she is.
Saving the world kind of takes priority.
Which is why she's honestly surprised when she sees Peggy standing at the bar on night number four. She toasts her with what looks like a bourbon and smiles all through Angie's show and Angie is so delighted Peggy made it that she grins up there on stage too.
Afterwards the club owner comes backstage and tells her she was great. "You were really glowing tonight" he croons and Angie just murmurs something about it being "a good night."
A very good night.
Peggy's hiding behind the door when Angie walks into her dressing room and has her dress half undone and her mouth on the back of her neck before the door's half closed.
"You were tremendous," she says, her hands doing wicked, wicked things that have Angie sighing and reaching for purchase.
She pushes back with her shoulders and feels Peggy fall against the door. The hand that's been climbing up her leg and the other on her breast slacken just enough that Angie can turn around and hold Peggy by the hip and return all those wicked favors.
"Thought you two were headed south tonight?"
She's got part of the top Peggy's dress pulled away and Peggy's heaving against her mouth. "Didn't need to," she pants. "Besides, couldn't miss the show—" she moans, "again."
She grabs Angie by the chin and pulls her into another kiss. All messy and happy and—
There's a banging on the door.
They both stop. They can't stop panting. They're too keyed up to just go completely still. But they stop making out like they're in high school.
Only Peggy's a little tenser. The lines in her shoulder and the planes of muscle along her back are a little more rigid. Even the hand that's snaked into Angie's hair is taut.
"Miss Carter? They apparently need you out on the main floor?"
It's just a stage hand and Peggy and Angie both sigh Angie lays her head against Peggy's chest and lets her soothe her with fingers coming through her hair and lips pressed to the top of her head.
At least Peggy thinks she's soothing her. Angie's pretty sure she's the one doing all the soothing and she runs her hands up and down Peggy's back and until she feels her relax—just a fraction.
"We should probably save all the wrecking for the bedroom back at the villa huh?"
"I really wanted to wreck your dressing room." She nudges Angie with her hip, "Particularly that mirror with the good light there."
Angie has to groan, because her imagination has her thinking of all kinds of wonderful things. "What about tomorrow night? Or the night after?"
"Whenever I'm here next?"
She nods, "I'll just pretend I'm sick after the show. Then we'll lock the door and rename this place Dresden."
Peggy thinks that's a very good idea because she gives her one of those searing sort of kisses with all the promise and says "I love you."
Then they help each other look presentable again and while Angie changes into a new pair of stockings that aren't ripped Peggy reapplies her makeup perfectly in the mirror and Angie thinks about kissing it right off of her again.
When Peggy reaches out to open the door Angie catches her arm, "Are you sticking around?"
"Sure? I mean, if that's all right?" Peggy actually looks nervous.
"Yeah! Yeah, I just didn't know with work—and I've got to stay near to closing. Part of the gig is being seen by folks after I'm done with the song and dance routine."
"I'll just get soused at the bar while I wait then?"
There's a peck on the lips just before they walk out together and it feels an awful lot like a bizarre joke on Father Knows Best. All that's missing is one of them carrying a briefcase and the other wearing an outdated pair of pearls.
Peggy goes up to the bar and quickly becomes the life of her own private party, flirting and being coy and even going out on the dance floor.
But she never tries to outshine Angie. Even though Angie's got no doubt she could do it in a heartbeat and without even thinking if she wanted to.
This club, this group of people though. They're here to see Angela Carter. They're here to rub elbows and drop names and be fascinated by an icon.
And when Angie wants to she can put on the iconic charm like nobody's business.
She goes a few times around the dance floor with cocky business magnates and famous actors and at least one count.
It's the count she's just done dancing with and she's a little breathless because he wanted to show off how good he was and she had to show him she's still better.
Some of her hair's come out of her pristine coif and she's pushing it back into place when she runs into just a whole wall of good looking fella.
His voice is rich and pleasant and he smells nice, but not perfume nice. Just all natural him sort of nice.
"Mind if I have this dance," he asks.
So he's a nice smelling wall of American beef apparently. She can work with that. She can work with that real—
Her brain short circuits after she takes his hand and looks up into a pair of clever blue eyes.
Because Angie only ever saw the guy once, and he was on stage and she was in the crowd. But once is all you need to know a fella like him. One look and he's just gonna sear on into your memories.
And he's standing there with her hand in his and smiling politely and maybe a little nervously too.
And this guy, this guy holding Angie's hand and asking her to dance.
Is positively, absolutely, with out a doubt.
Captain freaking America.
"Sure."
