Note: This was inspired by a conversation on Tumblr about Peggy and Steve going undercover as a couple. This is not that story.
"Carter!"
Peggy's shoulder twinged as she jumped to her feet and turned to face Colonel Phillips. "Yes, sir?"
Phillips tossed a file on the desk in front of her. "Pack your bags, you're heading to London."
"With all due respect, sir, I am recovering as expected. I can be of more value here."
"I'll be the one to judge where you'll be most of value", Phillips barked. "And right now, that's in London. The Prime Minister's office has asked me to provide security for a travelling show raising money for the war effort, and since you went and got yourself injured, you might as well make yourself useful. I'll expect you to be ready to go at 0800."
"Do you really think it's prudent to send a highly trained SSR agent to guard a travelling show?"
"It's not what I think, it's what your Prime Minister thinks, and he thinks that he doesn't want Captain America to fall in the Thames or get shot or do anything else that will cause an international incident. Your job is to keep that from happening. 0800. Don't be late.
"I'm afraid there must be some sort of mistake."
"No mistake, doll." The bespectacled man took another drag of his cigarette and continued digging through the trunk. "This is a theatre. Everyone works for a living." He pulled his head out of the trunk to ask "What size shoes do you wear?"
"I've told you", Peggy said, enunciating very carefully in an attempt to keep her temper under control, "I am an agent with the Strategic Scientific Reserve, and I have been asked to provide security while the Captain America show is in town."
"I heard you the first time", the irritating man said, pulling a pair of shoes out of the trunk and tossing them at her. "Try these. If they don't fit, ask Chet for another pair.."
"But…"
There was a bang as the man's fist hit the desk. "Look, sweetheart, if the girls see soldiers around, they're going to get worried, and the last thing I need is a bunch of panicky dames. You can join the chorus and blend in, or you can hit the road. Your choice." He tossed a bundle of clothes after the shoes and gestured down the hall. "Second door on the left. Practice started 5 minutes ago, so make it snappy."
The second door on the left turned out to be a dressing room. Along one wall was a rack of civilian clothes, and another wall was lined with mirrors and dressing tables. Peggy quickly changed into the rather scanty costume and buckled the slightly-too-large shoes on her feet. Leaving the dressing room, she followed the arrows to the stage, standing uncomfortably in the wings for a moment before gathering the courage to walk out onto the stage.
"You're late." The large man sprawled in the front row practically barked the words.
"I'm very sorry", Peggy replied. "I just arrived in London and …"
"I don't need your life story", the man snapped. "Just get in line."
Peggy scurried into place. As the music started, she concentrated on following the actions of the girl next to her. Luckily, it seemed like most of the show consisted of the girls marching, and she thought she did a good job of keeping up. It wasn't until they reached the high kicks at the end of the routine that she started to feel completely out of her depth.
Luckily, she wasn't the only one – it appeared that about half the group was new, some of the original dancers having stayed behind in America. Still, she was glad when the brusque man who seemed to be in charge called for a break, muttering about the incompetent group he had to work with.
"Don't worry about Chet", the blonde girl next to her said. "He's always like this. You're doing fine."
Peggy smiled. "It doesn't feel like I'm doing fine", she said, holding out her hand. "I'm Peggy, by the way."
"Nice to meet you, Peggy", the girl replied. "I'm Gertie. Come on, let's get some lunch."
It was different, having lunch with a bunch of girls – like being back at school, in a way. She'd forgotten what it was like, gotten used to being surrounded by the boys in the army, knowing she couldn't show weakness. Here no one cared if she complained about the blisters on her feet or the way her calves ached from the ridiculous shoes they had to wear. She was almost reluctant to break away, but she made herself do it anyway. They were having lunch, she was working.
She started towards the ladies' room, but instead of stopping, she ducked down the hallway to the change rooms. She had already seen the girls' change room, of course, but there had to be a separate room for the men, and she needed to find Steve Rogers before he showed up on stage.
There was a picture of a red, white, and blue shield on the room two doors past the one she'd changed in, and she knocked furtively, then, when there was no reply, slipped inside. The room was smaller than the girls' room, and neater as well. The real-life counterpart of the shield on the door leaned against one wall, and a rather ridiculous blue and white costume hung from a hanger. Like the girls' room, there was a mirror, and a dressing table with a sketch pad and pencil.
A little guiltily, she picked up the sketch pad and opened it, only to be interrupted by a voice behind her.
"I think you have the wrong room, ma'am", Steve Rogers said, and she whirled to face him.
"Steve!"
"Pe… Agent Carter?"
Suddenly she was all too aware of the shortness of her skirt. She smoothed her hands down it, tugging at the bottom to make it look longer. "Hello, Steve."
"What are you doing here?", he asked.
"Captain Phillips sent me", she replied.
"Look", he said, "I'm pretty sure the real Hitler is somewhere in Germany, or maybe Austria. The guy in our show is just an actor."
She laughed. "Apparently, there is some concern that if you are left to your own devices, you will throw yourself on a grenade or pick a fight with someone or otherwise cause an international incident. I've been sent to keep you out of trouble. And the rather obnoxious gentlemen in charge of the show refused to let me in the building unless I joined the chorus. He didn't want to scare the girls."
"Nothing scares those girls", Steve replied. "They're fearless. Believe me, I'm not the one you should be concerned about."
"Nonetheless", Peggy answered. They grinned at each other for a moment, and she continued, "I must get back – I'd hate to get fired my first day."
"I'll see you out there", Steve said.
Peggy ducked out the door and pulled it shut behind her.
"There you are, Peg!" Gertie bustled down the hall towards her, her expression grim. "We'd better get to the stage. And word to the wise? Don't go into Steve's dressing room. If Chet finds out, you're done for."
By the end of the afternoon, Peggy was convinced she had two left feet, both of which were sore and covered in blisters.
The members of the show were billeted in a nearby hotel, 4 girls to a room, with a shared bathroom on every floor. It was more comfortable than a tent on the western front, but considerably less private. Even with the lack of privacy, she didn't have any trouble falling asleep.
She was the first one in her room to wake up, and she quickly dressed in street clothes and went in search of sustenance.
The hotel was sadly bereft of tea, but she found a small pub on the corner and ducked inside. Soon she was tucking in to a full breakfast with a proper cup of tea.
She was engrossed in her food, and didn't notice that she was no longer alone until Steve slid into the seat across from here. "I hope you don't mind", he said. "I tried to get your attention, but you were pretty focused on your food."
She swallowed her bite of eggs. "I'm sorry, it's been a long time since I've had eggs that weren't cold or rubbery. By all means, have a seat. You can fill me in on what you've been up to."
A waitress bustled over with a cup of coffee and a surprisingly large plate of food and set it in front of Steve. "Thank you, Doris", he said, smiling.
"My pleasure, Captain. Please let me know if there is anything else I can do."
"I surely will, ma'am."
With a disappointed look, Doris left them alone.
Steve picked up his fork. "There's not much to tell, ma'am. You've seen most of the show. We've travelled throughout the US. Bond sales go up after the show, so I guess I'm doing my part even though I'm not really fighting."
"You'd better call me Peggy, now that we're working together. And bond sales are important. You are helping, I promise you that."
Steve smiled wryly. "This isn't really what I pictured when I signed up, you know?"
"I know. What I don't know is why you aren't fighting to do more, if that's what you want."
Steve shrugged. "With what? A week of basic training?"
"That is a problem", she agreed, taking another bite of her toast.
The power went out around 10, and they clustered in the lobby. Peggy stood by the wall with Gertie and her friend Dora, watching as Chet and the man she'd met when she first arrived scurried around trying to figure out when they'd be able to rehearse again. Steve was across the lobby, talking with the three girls he worked most closely with. In the middle of the room, Lizzie and Maude were practicing their kicks, forcing everyone to dodge around them.
By 11:30, most of the group had slumped to the floor along the walls. The door opened, illuminating the fading red carpet and the dust in the air. "OK, ladies", Chet said, "Apparently the power will be out most of the day. Be back here at 8 tomorrow morning, and be ready to work."
The group shuffled to their feet and headed to the dressing room. Peggy kept to the back of the group, and quietly let herself into Steve's dressing room.
"Are you free today?", she asked.
"I am", Steve answered. "Turns out the power is out so rehearsal is cancelled."
"Meet me outside in 15 minutes."
Peggy maneuvered her borrowed car down the narrow lane before pulling to a stop by the country house.
"Where are we?", Steve asked.
"I called in a favour", Peggy answered. "I thought we could try to fill in some of the gaps in your training."
She led the way down a path into the garden as she continued, "We know from the tests they did after the serum that you can run exceptionally fast, and that it takes a long time before you get tired. But the serum alone won't make you a soldier."
They reached a table that had obviously been set up in preparation for their arrival. Peggy picked up a rifle and handed it to him, gesturing at the targets standing ready. "Go ahead" she invited, "Let's see what you can do."
It didn't take more than an hour before he could consistently hit the target with the rifle, as well as a Luger P08 and a Colt 45. When Peggy was satisfied with his progress, a stern butler led them to a large room that contained a punching bag and mats, and Peggy demonstrated how to throw a proper punch. It took a while to get his arms, legs, and torso all moving together for maximum power, but he thought he was getting the hang of it by the time they took a break for tea.
They ate on the veranda, songbirds serenading them as they ate their simple meal. When it was over, it was back to the exercise room, where Peggy held a cushion for him to hit as she took him through his paces.
After a while, she showed him some simple moves for hand-to-hand combat, grinning mischievously when he ended up flat on his back. Darkness had fallen by the time he finally managed to get the better of her, sending her to the mat he had gotten to know so well.
The next few days were busy with rehearsals for the upcoming London debut. Steve got into the habit of joining Peggy for meals whenever he wasn't busy with newspaper or radio interviews, and the other girls soon noticed the change. Peggy found herself the recipient of unwanted advice, as well as the occasional veiled threat.
As annoying as the rumours could be, they made her job easier. No one thought twice about her joining Steve for a walk or visiting his dressing room, and she took advantage of the situation to keep an eye on him as ordered.
It wasn't a hardship – she enjoyed Steve's sense of humour, work ethic, and determination to do what was right, and she took more than a little pleasure in seeing the tips of his ears turn red when she teased him.
The first show went off without a hitch. They took their bows, and she followed Steve out to the stage door, where he was greeted by a crowd of admirers. As he signed autographs, the crowed jostled her farther away until Steve casually flung his arm around her shoulders as the cameras flashed.
By the next morning, reporters were camped out in the lobby and on the street by the hotel, hoping for a picture of Captain America and his best girl. Peggy took to going from the hotel to the theatre with a group of other girls, trying to get lost in the crowd, while Steve answered the reporters' questions with as vaguely as possible.
Since they couldn't go out in public, they spent their free time working on self-defence skills in a private room at the theatre. Steve was improving by leaps and bounds, working out how to use his new physique to gain the advantage over his opponent. Peggy's shoulder was almost healed as well, and she knew she'd soon be ready to resume her position.
Steve placed the helmet into the trunk, resting it on top of his costume. After a month in London, they were leaving for Bristol in the morning.
He was expecting the knock on the door, and he wasn't surprised to see that Peggy was holding a telegram as well as a small travelling bag.
"So this is it?"
"This is it. I leave on the next train."
Steve nodded. "I figured they'd want you back as soon as possible."
"It was good to see you again, Steve."
He smiled. "You too, Peggy." He held out his arms, and she walked into his embrace, clinging just for a moment before pulling herself away.
"Try not to cause any international incidents while I'm gone."
He laughed. "I will. If you run into Hitler, punch him for me."
"I will. Goodbye, Steve."
"Bye, Peggy."
The door closed behind her, and he turned back to his packing.
I'd love to hear what you think.