Moments

Up to Snuff – Part B

Peggy joined Jack on the edges of the mat in SSR's cobbled together in-house gym and began doing warm up stretches. She ignored his less than subtle eyeing of her outfit. (Well, if 'ignoring' means she didn't smirk knowingly at his reaction, then that's what she did).

She was tempted to though. Angie's prediction that her fitted gym shirts and tight-knit shirt were going to cause accidents if she went out running in public in them may have had more truth in it than she had originally thought if judging by her colleague's – no, boss's – reaction.

Instead, she asked, "So how do you know this guy that you've brought in to train us?"

Jack cleared his throat hastily and changed his stretching position that he had been holding for too long anyways, before answering, "Oh, uh, he's a war buddy of mine. My former sergeant actually. He was in charge of whipping the greenies into shape, teaching them the dirty tricks that boot camp didn't and the West Point brat lieutenants wouldn't approve of. He's recently started his own business of training professional boxers, or he is at least trying to."

Peggy stored up all that he had just revealed about himself in that explanation – the loyalty and respect he had for his former sergeant, the identification of being of the rank and file, and the distancing of himself from the elitist officers. She stored it up and tucked it away for further consideration later.

Instead, she asked casually, "Professional boxing, huh? Anyone I might know?"

Thompson did a double take nearly giving himself a neck injury. "You follow boxing?" When her only response was an enigmatic smile, he answered, "Well, not yet, but soon, I wouldn't be so surprised."

"You better believe it!" boomed out a voice of a bald, six foot four inch, two hundred fifty pound tank of a man.

Holding his extra-large hand out, he introduced himself, "The name's Theodore Clifford. Some people call me 'Teddy' and some call me 'Cliff'. I answer to each, and you must be Margaret Carter."

She returned his hardy and firm handshake drawing on her experience of arm wrestling Dugan, and instantly liking this man, she rejoined warmly, "Well, in order to take you seriously, I'll go with Cliff. And, please, call me Peggy."

Her response caused him to let out a booming laugh, which brought a smile to her face. He really did remind of her good ol' Dugan.

That was the last that she smiled like that for the rest of the evening though. Cliff had them run through a gamut of warm-up exercises, strength-building exercises, and muscle-shrieks-of-agony-causing exercises, all to test their endurance. And then he had them spar.

Of the three matches he had them do, she only won the first one.

She had speed and skills, but Jack had the longer reach, more muscle mass, and the common sense to be wary of her now that he knew what she was capable of.

She wasn't able to do a quick assault like she had at the Automat. So she exchanged a few punches with him, and then pretended that one of his jabs made her more off balance than she was. When he went in, she side-stepped into him, elbowed him in the gut, and then hooked her leg behind his so that his doubled-over form went sprawling to the ground. Jack tapped out before she could do any further damage.

"If you had a more resilient opponent, what would you do?" Cliff asked speculatively.

Wiping sweat from her brow with the small hand towel that she had brought, she replied, "If running away wasn't an option and I needed to incapacitate him? Shoot him with my gun." Over Jack's startled protest, she continued, "if that wasn't an option, I would cold cock or kick him in the temple, praying that he wouldn't have the presence of mind to grab at me."

That last part she shouldn't have mentioned because that was exactly what he did in their second match. And when she was flat on her back and winded, he pounced and pinned her beneath him.

In attempting to be a gentleman, he gave her just enough wiggle room to flip him over. And then they were tumbling end over end, elbows and knees jabbing and jerking, as they each tried to grapple for a secure hold on the other.

Somehow they ended up in the most compromising of situations, all tangled up in each other, practically sitting in each other's laps. The best she could say about the situation was that she was not precisely pinned down, but the only thing keeping him from stunning her with a head-butt and breaking loose was her forearm pressed against his jugular as she tried to lever herself away from him.

In stalemate cases such as these, this was what her 'Sweet Dreams' was for. But she wasn't going to reveal that to Cliff or to Jack. A woman must have her secrets, after all.

At Cliff's "Alright, that's enough", they broke apart, and while they regained their feet and attempted to regain their dignity, Cliff chuckled gleefully, "You two are going to be a hoot to teach. It's gonna get downright dirty as a whoring hussy brawl."

Over Jack's muttered, "Thanks, I think," their sadistic instructor ordered with far too much amusement, "Again."

The last bout she lost. She blamed her exhaustion. Her reflexes were slower as well as her mind. When Cliff made the sudden move to stand at her six, her hindbrain screamed Threat!, distracting her from Jack's right cross, which had more force behind it due to his finally getting over the fact he was fighting a woman.

She managed to deflect his assault just enough so that her nose wasn't broken, but not enough so that she wasn't sent spinning to the floor.

She was almost surprised that Jack didn't follow this with a startled, "Carter!" as she was sure his expression had been just as shocked as hers even as his blow connected. But no, the man was a quick study, and before she could right herself, he was on her, pinning her hands behind her back as if he was going to cuff her.

When Cliff called it, Jack quickly let her go, somehow managing to have the energy to stand. All she could do was roll over and stare blearily at the two of them, and when Jack offered her assistance, she wearily waved him off and waited expectantly for their evaluator's verdict.

After Jack flopped to ground next to her, Cliff let out a low whistle, stating, "You two are indeed going to be a hoot to teach." And then to her, he added, "And Agent Carter, if you would like additional lessons, I know a guy in Chinatown who specializes in teaching how to take down larger opponents. He's discreet too and won't ask questions as to why a lady would want such."

That peaked her interest. She wasn't too proud to learn new tricks, and she wasn't offended by his insinuation that she needed to. There had been no hint of condescension in his tone; just the simple acknowledgment that she was a fellow aficionado of the art.

So after arranging to meet with him and Jack again same time next week, she got the man's, Tiny Ting's, contact info.

As she was leaving, she called out over her shoulder, "Jack, stay and catch up with your buddy. I'm claiming the locker room and the shower for the next twenty minutes."

She didn't see Jack's reaction, but judging by Cliff's hardy guffaw, she would bet that it was an interesting one, to say the least.

~A~

Four days later, as Peggy was tidying up for the day, Daniel called out, "Hey, Peggy, you coming?"

"Coming to what?" she asked. They hadn't closed any cases today, so there weren't any celebratory drinks at the local pub that she had agreed to go to and none that she hadn't been invited to.

"To the gym," he supplied. When she was still looking at him blankly, he explained hesitantly, "You weren't at the last two trainings, so I figured you were in the last group like me."

"Oh, no, Mr. Clifford wanted me to have my own separate session, so he lumped me in with the one he has with Jack," she smoothly replied.

Daniel's eyebrows lifted at that, his dark flashing with concern. "Oh, so how was that?"

She shrugged, "Not bad. Although, I think the Chief enjoyed repaying me for that sucker punch in the alley that day." Before he could get all huffy on her behalf at that remark, she added, "Clifford isn't a bad chap, despite what Fisher and Wallace were whinging about. I think you'll learn a lot from him."

He gave a grateful smile and then left her to her work.

When no one else was in the bullpen, Jack came out and sat on the edge of her desk, noting dryly, "Well that was nicely plaid, Carter, blaming it on the big bad sergeant."

"Oh, I think 'Teddy' can take it," she grinned at him, causing him to snort.

More seriously, Jack asked, "Do you think I oughta have invited Sousa to our session? His pride is going to be awfully chafed after being put through the wringer by Cliff."

She leaned back in her chair, surprised by the compassion that the office jack-ass was displaying for her friend, not to mention his sincere inquiry as to her opinion. After a moment of consideration, she answered slowly, "No…I think Daniel's pride would be more wounded if you hadn't thought he could handle it…Better to let Cliff evaluate him and then give him the option of continuing the group lessons or to join our more private one if he wants."

He nodded thoughtfully before standing up and swinging his coat over his shoulder. With a smirk and mock bow, he declared, "Night, Carter. I look forward to finding out what you've learned from Tiny Ting."

She stared bemusedly after his jauntily whistling and retreating form. Sometimes, she could swear that he got off on their confrontations – whether it was their verbal bouts or their now more physical ones.

And Peggy wasn't entirely sure how she felt about that.

A/N: Next up, Peggy interrogates someone and it's all told from Jack's point of view.