She's early. Her scheduled meet up with Angie usually takes place at 6:30pm sharp every other Thursday night at the local bar where she orders her favorite pretzel and dips it into disgustingly delicious plastic cheese. Or at least that's how Angie describes it.
But it's 6:20. And Peggy is never early. In fact she's usually rudely late in her attempts to constantly prove herself at her job. Late hours, long meetings, and working overtime so her idiot bosses can realize the potential they have right under their godforsaken noses.
But today….
Today Fred had made a comment that had made her so utterly angry that instead of punching him in the face and getting fired. She had packed up on time and left. Seething the entire way.
And she was certain. Absolutely, positively, brutally certain that there were no good men left in the world. Not a single one.
So as she sat in their usual booth, hiding behind the tall wooden dividers and listening to some spots match on the telly, she waited for Angie so she could make sure Angie knew that under no uncertain terms was she going on anymore blind dates. She was thoroughly done with the male gender.
This belief was only reinforced as a young woman entered the bar and headed straight for a booth. She was young. Perhaps early 20's. Perhaps too young to feel confident in turning away the man who seemed to appear out of nowhere and ask her if she'd like a drink.
"No thanks." The woman said with a bright smile.
Peggy winces. Men take kindness as flirting.
"Ah, come on now, love." The man says, blocking her path to the booth. "What's a pretty bird like you going to do, drink all alone?"
The woman, still too kind, but now with a hint of wisdom in her eyes, smiles and tilts her head, leaning back from him and choosing wise words. "Oh, I won't be alone. My friends are joining me soon."
But the man just grins and leans in towards the woman, making her step back, "oh, sure, your friends are coming." Peggy sighs. That's apparently not going to cut it either.
As the woman processes that she will have to push past the man to make it to the booth, she changes her mind, and turns heading for the bar. Which means there's a clear path for the man to follow her. And he does.
"Well, I'll keep you company till they get here, then huh?" The man is too close to the woman. Too intent on making physical contact. So Peggy stands. Ready to intervene with a knuckle sandwich that is supposed to be reserved for Fred, but is apparently destined for this predator.
She's halfway out her booth when she hears an, "oh, oops," in a comically strong American accent. "Sorry, pal."
A disgruntled sound of anger and then a hiss, "fucking Americans!" Then Peggy watches as the man glances up from something and looks at the woman, "I'll be right back, love." Then he winks and is gone.
The woman grimaces and then turns to someone, looking down a bit, her face shifting to gratitude. Peggy walks closer, pushing past the rowdy crowds to see a blonde man, barely past the woman's shoulder with an empty beer stein in his hand. It clicks. The man must have bumped into the man, spilling his drink.
The blonde guy shoves his hair back and huffs a laugh, "sorry about that." He says with a kind smile.
The woman leans forward, a complete turn around from her behavior with the other man. This woman is immediately at ease with the man in front of her. "Don't apologize. Thank you for sacrificing your beer."
The blonde man's eyes crinkle, as if she's told a particular funny joke, "what'cha talking about? It was an accident."
The woman laughs, "you're too kind, but I am sorry about the waste, can I buy you another?"
And the man's next words strike Peggy deeply. "Oh, no, that's alright. It isn't a waste if it helped." And then with that, the man tips the glass to the woman in a 'cheers' motion and starts to disappear.
It's startling. Like the universe is laughing at her. Her horrid day, so sure all men are the scum of the earth. Only to have this kind man prove the opposite.
He hadn't even thrown it on the man to try to get a chance with the girl.
He was simply being kind.
And expected nothing in return.
She turns to find him but he's already gone, lost among the taller crowds.
The woman is smiling as she makes it to the bar. And Peggy considers telling her she's better off at another place when a cheer grows up and the woman's friends do indeed arrive.
"Surprised you're already here." She turns to see Angie staring at her with a grin. Another strong American accent, but this one she's used too.
"Had a day." Is all Peggy says, her eyes scanning once more to find the man but coming up empty. "Come, my pretzels are probably getting cold."
—-
They're chatting, Angie giving particularly emphasis on her insults of Fred after hearing Peggy's story.
"Hey, you're the arsehole who spilled his beer on me."
Peggy's ears are instantly alert. She glances over to the bar, where through the crowd she sees the original predator and the way he's looking down. She can't see the blonde man, but she can hear his voice. Strong and firm. "Actually, I dumped it on you on purpose."
Peggy almost chokes on her drink, feeling disbelief well within her. Why on earth would he admit that?
"You fucking what?" The man screeches, reaching forward and hauling the shorter man forward, and Peggy can just see the top of his blonde hair. And maybe with the physical assault she expects the blonde to back down, apologize and scurry away. But her eyes grow wider at his next words.
"She. Wasn't. Interested. And it's pretty clear why." The crowd forming chuckles and makes the taller man bristle, "Maybe next time take a hint."
"Like you would know what a woman wants!" The taller man growls. "Look at you, tall as a 3rd year."
"Maybe try talking to a woman like she's a human being, not a challenge—" the words, earnest and fierce, send a sharp jolt through Peggy's spine.
The taller man splutters and shakes the man's collar in his grasp, "what the hell did you say to me you fucking bastard!"
"I said—" and somehow, Peggy's standing, already on her feet, moving towards the knot of people, Angie calling after her as she steps faster, knowing the next words out of the man's mouth won't end well for him. "—don't be predatorial scum."
Peggy just steps to the front as the words leave his mouth. The gasp from the small crowd around the people incinerates the man's anger further. Peggy watches as the man drops Steve's collar and starts to reel his fist back. And the blonde man sees it. And does nothing. Stares at the man, as if daring him to punch him. Not an ounce of fear or retaliation. He believes in his words. And he'll take a hit for them.
And she finds herself stepping forward, calling out. "Darling, what's going on!?"
Both men stop, faces flicking to her, and both sets of eyes widen. And it's grating to see the way the taller man takes her in, eyes widening and lingering down her curves. She's glad she's wearing her nicer skirt suit today, and taller heels. It gets his attention and stops his attack. She feels the crowd go silent in expectation. Her eyes land on the blonde man. There is no searching there. His eyes do not linger or look her over. There's only the tilt of confusion, the unsurety of who she was calling to as he must assume she was calling the other man since they're perfect strangers.
She huffs a sigh and steps behind the blonde man, wrapping her arms around him and nuzzling her lips against his neck, making it impossible for the man in front to finish his lunch without danger of hitting her, "must I always be pulling you out of scrapes?"
The blonde man is stiffening in surprise, "what honorable thing have you done this time, my darling?" She says with a soft voice, kissing his cheek and turning to the taller man. Her voice turns steely, "is there a problem here?"
The man takes in her obvious distaste for him and sneers. "Who the hell are you?"
"I'm his girlfriend. Obviously."
"You dating this American rat?" The man scoffs, "no way in hell."
Peggy laughs, fully and with mirth, "and why not? At least he knows how to treat a woman. Which is a characteristic you are obviously lacking."
The taller man scoffs and throws his head back, "figures only a traitorous bitch would be desperate enough—"
The blonde man is stiffening under her touch, and she feels a pit of warmth at the fact that she can tell he's getting angry for her, he's leaning forward, as if he might engage this Neanderthal once again.
"Hey—" the blonde man says, his voice deep and vibrating against the way she's still clinging to his shoulders, "don't you dare talk to a lady like that—"
And Peggy barely has the brainpower to hold herself back from kissing behind his ear for how adorable that comment is.
"She's not a lady." The tall man snaps, "just another bitch."
And the way the crowd murmurs at that makes her laugh, "come now. If I'm such a bitch, you won't mind if I—" she's stepping forward, around the blonde man and throwing her fist, hard and fast, clocking the man in the jaw and sending him sprawling back against the watchers.
No one catches him and he slides to the ground with a thunk, looking dazed. "Look what a bitch can do." Peggy says with a smirk. And suddenly the bar is clapping and roaring and she laughs, turning back to the blonde man who looks positively disheveled from the lipstick marks on his neck face and the way she's mused his hair.
His eyes flick up from the man on the ground to her and there's the sweetest expression of awe and disbelief on his face.
She steps forward and tugs him away, pulling him through the crowd as people pat her on the back and laugh. Angie is standing on the booth seat, having presumably watched from that perch. "Holy hell, Carter." Angie whistles. "You got him good."
Peggy turns to see the bartender helping the guy up and then pointing him to the door.
"Good thing he put his hands on you first." Angie says pointing to the blonde man, "self defense and all that." She slides down and out of the booth, "I'm Angie, and you are."
"Steve." The man says, his voice still filled with disbelief.
Angie grins, "well, Steve, I think you need to join us for a drink."
Peggy reaches out a hand, "I'm Peggy, by the way."
Steve reaches out slowly and shakes her hand. Firm and cool, "Steve."
She laughs, "yes I've heard. Sit down?"
He slowly sinks into the booth and then shakes his head, "sorry, still reeling, what just happened?"
Both women laugh and Peggy finds that the way this makes him smile has her heart beating faster. "I missed part of it too," Angie admits, "Carter?"
"Well," Peggy says, "I watched you defend that woman from earlier." Steve goes red, as if embarrassed to have been caught being helpful, "but then I saw that man start to bother you and I just couldn't have it, not today."
The way her words get brittle make him look at her sharply, "what happened today?"
"Just another pompous bastard speaking from ignorance."
Steve nods, as if he understands, and maybe he doesn't to spend extent. "Sorry to hear that. I'd dump a beer on him if he was here."
Peggy looks at him and sees that he's being honest, and a fierce desire to add more lipstick to his face rises again. She tamps it down and smiles instead, "that's kind of you." Then she feels compelled to add, "thank you for proving that not all men are scum."
A self-deprecating shrug is followed by that same crinkly eyed smile. "Not even this American rat?"
They laugh and begin talking. She discovers he's here waiting for a group of friends who are having some sort of reunion. She gauges from the way he speaks that it has something to do with the miltary intelligence sector but he doesn't go into specifics and she doesn't press.
Steve asks Angie how she ended up in England and Angie launches into her story about using theater to teach kids who want to learn English as a second language. Peggy notes how attentive Steve is, asking pertinent questions and not cutting in.
She's about to ask more about him personally when a loud boisterous howl echoes through the bar.
"Bloody Nora," Peggy winces, "what the hell is that?"
Steve grimaces, "oh, uh, sorry, just some other rowdy Americans." He laughs and slides out of the booth and turns to them, "thank you again. What a knockout." The words register in his mind as soon as they've left his mouth and he blushes fiercely. "I mean—" he turns to Angie who just laughs, and clears his throat, "goodbye." Then he steps back and into the crowd, heading towards the new noise that has entered the bar.
She turns to find Angie staring at her. "What?"
"You're not going to tell him he has your lipstick all over his neck, shirt collar, and face?"
Peggy purses her lips in amusement, "oh, I didn't even think—" A couple 'whoops' and a loud howl cracks through the bar and she and Angie share widening eyes as they cover their laughs with their hands. "I think it's too late."
They laugh again and then Angie tilts her head, "what was that about all men being scum?"
Peggy sighs and rolls her eyes, "perhaps there's one."
Angie's eyes get a gleam, "and that one happens to be here. In this bar. With your lipstick on his face."
"And just what is that supposed to mean?"
"I've never seen you defend a guy. This one brought out the tiger in you—"
Peggy shimmies in her seat and glares at Angie, "he most certainly did not."
But the lie doesn't land because Angie shakes her head with a knowing smirk, "your forgetting I watched you hang on him and then kiss him. Out of nowhere. A complete stranger—"
"Who needed help—"
"Who you could have helped by just punching the guy in the first place. Instead you chose to use him as a clothing hanger—"
"Angela Martinelli." Peggy snaps, "I was trying to not resort to violence—"
Angie laughs loud and full, "since when!"
At that, Peggy feels a smile pull on her lips, perhaps she was usually eager to prove her own through a well placed punch. But she had been working on that. Sort of.
"Something about him." Angie says again, "he caught your attention. That's all I'm saying. That hasn't happened in a long while."
Peggy sighs, "I suppose there was something about him." She admits, "I just saw him help, so I wanted to do my part. That's all."
Angie frowns, "that's it? You're not going to go over there?" Angie juts her thumb in the direction Steve left.
"No." Peggy responds with a scoff, "of course not. He's not interested—"
"Pegs, a man would have to be dead to not be interested in you."
"Oh, for heaven's sake—"
"Just go talk to him!" Angie urges, "make him blush again, that was cute."
"He's with his friends—" Peggy tries
"So!?"
Peggy's about to respond when she sees blonde hair walking back towards their table.
She stiffens and Angie must catch it because she looks back and a grin breaks out on her face.
"Hello, Steve." Angie says cheerily, "welcome back."
Peggy's eyes land on the now smudged lipstick marks, as if his friends had pointed them out and he'd nervously tried to scrub at them. The image of him doing so makes her smile.
"Hello." Steve says with a wince, "I'm really sorry about this."
"About what?"
Steve points back behind him and Peggy can now see a group of men staring, eyes locked on Steve. "They're convinced I should ask for your number." He starts with a rush, pink already ringing his ears, "but I told them you were just being nice when you stepped in. That this—" he points to his face, "was to save me from getting punched which they know I tend to do, but they wouldn't listen, so I threatened to leave but then they stole my keys and now they won't let me go until I ask, and I swear you can turn me down flat, or write a fake number. I'm just really, really sorry." His voice ends with a huff as if saying that whole spiel took the air from his lungs. Then he breathes in and looks at her apologetically, "you could punch me." He says with that same crinkly eyed smiled, "that would teach them."
And the strangest thing is that Peggy can see he's not even joking. Just stating another option.
"Is there a pen or a piece of paper I'm supposed to write this number on?"
She hears Angie's pleased little gasp, but her eyes are on Steve whose face has gone blank in surprise, eyes widening. Then he seems to shake himself and remember where he is, "oh," he pulls out his phone and opens it, going to a notes app, "here, and you can put a fake name with the fake phone number too. Promise I'm not trying to be a creep."
She eyes him as he stands there feeling anxious. She can feel the nerves are radiating off him, but he does not cower or back away.
And it almost hurts her feelings that he expects she wouldn't want to give him her real number. "Do you mind if I put it in your contacts?" She broaches, a smile pulling on one side, "probably will seem more authentic."
He blinks, "oh." He swallows, "okay, sure." He reaches and taps at his screen, pulling up the contact list. She clicks 'add new' and types in information.
Then she clicks the screen off and hands it back to him. "There you are."
He sighs in relief and his face shifts back to at ease, "thanks, and again, sorry about this." He looks back at the guys who are smiling at him widely "thanks for faking this for me, they're insufferable when they set their minds to something." He laughs and slides his phone into his pocket. "It was nice meeting you both. Thanks again for saving me back there. Enjoy your evening." Peggy watches him go and get surrounded by his friends as they seem eager to hear what he has to say. But she watches in amusement and he just huffs and holds out his hand, presumably for his keys.
"Yo gave him your real name and number, right? Tell me you did." Peggy's drawn from watching the man to Angie who is smiling at her with an excited expression, "tell me you didn't give him a fake number. I will be so mad if you did!"
Peggy's smile starts small and then she laughs softly, "I did. My real one."
Angie claps her hands and then shimmies, "I knew it!"
Then she realizes something. "What if he doesn't call? He thinks the number is a fake—"
"Did you text yourself?"
Peggy groans, "no, I didn't even think about that!"
Angie groans with her and then sighs, "he seems smart. He'll figure it out, especially if you put your name. He heard us say your name."
Peggy's about to hope the same thing when she feels her phone buzz. She pulls it out and does not recognize the number.
She hears a slightly panicked voice, "Bucky, don't."
It's an American number.
She looks up in surprise to the group where a tall man with dark hair is looking at her, a phone held to his ear.
"Buck, stop!" She hears Steve's voice say, and then Steve is there, trying to pull his phone out of the man's grasp. "Seriously! Cut it out!"
Peggy tries very hard to not smirk as she slides the answer button and puts it to her ear, "hello?" She asks, her eyes trained on the man.
The man's mouth shifts slightly into an 'o' shape before he's smiling widely, "hey." He says, still staring straight at her, "just wanted to make sure you had Steve's number. You know. Just in case he lost his phone or something."
Steve's brow furrows at the man's words. It hasn't hit him yet. Then he looks up and turns, his expression stunned as he sees Peggy sitting there, a phone up to her ear. And she sees the realization click. That she'd given her real number.
"How forward thinking of you." Peggy responds. " I was just fretting about that very fact."
Peggy has never fretted about anything in her life.
"Well alright then." The man responds, "Here's Steve." He shoves the phone into the owner's hands and grins like a wildcat. Stepping back I tot he group who are talking with smirks on their faces. Steve is still standing there stunned.
He slowly raises the phone to his ear and his voice is hoarse as he speaks, "hey."
She smiles, and tilts her head, their eyes still locked, "hello."
"You gave me a real number." He asks quietly. She watches his brow furrow in confusion, "why?"
"Because I hoped you would call me." She says softly, already noticing how warm and familiar his voice makes her feel.
But his next question cracks at her heart, "really?"
Angie is grinning at her as she slides out of the booth and stands, hanging up her phone and walking towards him, her gaze firmly on him even as she feels the stares of the group that half surrounds him. As she approaches she smiles, "are you friends of Steve's?"
They nod and the man who had called her steps forward, hand outstretched, "I'm Bucky."
"Peggy." She says, gripping his hand firmly, "is there a reason you called me?" She turns to Steve, "instead of you?"
Her question catches them off guard, but Bucky, whose hand is still in her grasp, recovers quickly, "Steve's kinda the slow and steady type. But we told him that letting a woman as beautiful and kind as you out the door would be stupid." Steve starts interject but Bucky presses on, "figured you wouldn't mind."
"I don't in the slightest." Peggy says, her eyes going back to Steve and his still disheveled hair and smudged lipstick, "I'm rather glad." This makes the men grin wildly behind Steve, but the man himself just blinks, looking as if someone has pulled out the rug from underneath him. "Hopefully we can avoid predatorial scum and any physical altercations with them next time, hmm?"
Steve looks at her and tilts his head, "next time?"
She watches as the men behind him silently groan but it only endears her to him further, "yes. Next time. When you call me and ask me out on a date that I'm sure to say yes to as long as these men don't tag along." She looks up with a smirk and they're all smiling at her like she hadn't just insulted their presence.
She watches as the realization settles in his eyes, and that crinkly eyed smile is back, followed by a confident but soft voice, "alright, I'll call you."
"Soon." She admonishes softly. "I'm not a patient woman." She leans forward and places a kiss right over where she'd kissed his cheek earlier, refreshing the mark. And she feels a bit like she's laying her claim. And he doesn't seem to mind a bit. "Goodnight, my darling." She says with a wink, using her term from earlier.
His voice is filled with humor and a touch of shyness, "night Peggy."
Angie is suddenly at her side, pulling her away and out the door. "You dog!" Angie squeals, "you bout made that guys head explode!"
Peggy laughs, "I hope not! I intend to kiss him quite a bit more than that!"
Angie squeals again and they go walking through the chilly fall night.
—
Peggy is climbing into bed when she feels her phone buzz. She clicks open the screen and sees a text.
Rogers. My last name is Rogers. For future reference.
She smiles and lays onto her pillow. Rogers. She likes the sound of that.
