Title: It's Not For Me To Say
Author: Maggiemerc
Rating: General
Disclaimer: Of course I don't own them. All the lady loving would be hella canon if I did.
Summary: Peggy's a spy. She can't just come out and says she loves Angie. She has to do it in code like an idiot.
Author's Note: What? A few one shots to bridge the gap between The Man That Got Away and Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow? WHY YES.
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Angie doesn't make a habit of going to retirement parties. In her line of work folks never actually retire. They take a break or turn recluse or just up and die.
And when they do retire there's no gold watch or hearty handshake. They sort of disappear. Slipping back into the monotony of a world Angie only ever wants to have a passing acquaintance with.
She figures there aren't a lot of retirees in Peggy's line of work either. And if there are Angie's never had to go to their retirement parties before. What with just being Peggy's "friend."
Not her girlfriend. Or lover. Or companion even. And definitely not her wife.
No Angela Carter is merely the director of SHIELD's roommate. Her pal.
She's got no clue who in their right mind believes that load of guff besides the rag buying public.
Except maybe Peggy.
"Mrs. Carter," people keep saying with a gasp when they realize who Angie is. "Are you a friend of Colonel Phillips?"
"She's my friend," Peggy always interjects. "The colonel rather took a shine to her once at a dinner party."
The fond smile she gives Angie's near enough to stop her being cranky. Near enough. Never actually enough.
She gets it, okay? She's not expecting marriage. It'd ruin both their careers. Even if she's more famous than God and got more dirt on the Hollywood heads than the FBI. And even if now Peggy's the definite head of SHIELD. As in no one higher 'cept Stark—and he's more a figurehead for the boys in Washington and London and…Zurich who need a fella at the top of their big international spy force.
Angie's just cranky see? She's had a rough couple of weeks away from home and when she did get home Peggy didn't so much as peck her in the cheek before dragging her to this big farewell party full of people Angie doesn't care 'bout or doesn't know to care 'bout or knows real well.
Like Chalmers. Who gives her a God's honest finger wave without taking his arm off his wife's shoulders.
Wonder how happy that marriage is.
"You're gonna get a reputation for being a real bitch you keep frowning that way," Maria mutters when she sidles up to her.
Angie just nods at Chalmers. "Used to date him."
Maria's a smart girl. Worked out all the little tricks of the closet Angie lives in. She sips her wine, "His wife know about those light loafers of his?"
Angie shrugs. "Not sure." They both watch as a waiter in a pair of pants tighter n' tights walks by and both Chalmers and his wife watch him go. Then the husband and wife share a look. "Now I'm sure," Angie says.
"Huh."
"Guess—"
Maria grins into her wine. "Threesomes with nubile waiters is good for their relationship."
Angie laughs.
Which gives Maria such a look of triumph. "There she is."
"Who?"
"You, dummy." Maria bumps her with her shoulder. "You've been grimacing all night like Phillips. People are wondering if you two were related."
"That's—"
She can't really protest. Not when Maria is staring real hard like than and they both know its true. She's been in an absolutely miserable mood. "I've been in an absolutely miserable mood."
"Picked up on that." Her words come out dry as the martini Angie's nursing.
They move away from the clusters of people and towards a darker and more pleasant corner of the party. Talk about Maria's new job. She's Stark's number two at SHIELD. "I can't tell you about most of it, but there was a robot."
She'd heard about the robot.
They talk about Peggy's kids and about how much of an idiot Stark is and then they both get a giggle or two and wonder how Maria's ever supposed to fall for the guy enough to have a kid with him. Maria supposes artificial insemination is involved. Angie supposes she doesn't want the details ever.
They talk about Angie's latest flick. A big Technicolor number shot in the Congo. Part of her misery is like to do with being sick on set. Peggy had given her some pills to help treat the water, but then she'd felt bad for some of the crew and given the pills out and then spent more than a month puking into a bucket between takes.
They don't talk about the other part of the shoot that made her miserable. The three days she wasn't on set and she was supposed to. Three days blacked out of her memory like someone took a big marker and got to redacting on her brain.
She needs to tell someone about it and Maria's as good as anyone. She's the only one, really, who knows about the moving target that's becoming Angie's memory. But a party like this isn't for conversation like that. So they curl up on a couch and gab.
It's nice.
Later Phillips himself appears like a long shadow over them and asks if they mind him interrupting.
He looks good for a newly retired master of espionage. His hair's gone a lot grayer and has shocks of white in it and he's on a cane now. Leaning heavily.
Peggy's already said there's bets on how long this retirement will last. She reckons it'll end as soon as he gets bored on his ranch out in Montana with the wife. "The man herds spies. Cattle will bore him to tears."
He invites Angie to go on a walk with him. She hooks her arm through his and they wander out of the party and take an elevator up to his old office. It's boxes and boxes of stuff currently. Some labeled with his name and some with Peggy's.
While everyone, including Peggy, referred to her as the Director of SHIELD the title won't be official until Phillip's retirement party is over. "Couldn't be prouder of her," he says.
"You and me both," Angie mumbles.
"Carter's smart as a whip when it comes to most things. Why I'm trusting her with this job."
Angie just nods.
Then Phillips narrows his eyes and something unsettling stirs in Angie's belly. "'Cept for romance of course. Carter hasn't got a brain in her head when it comes to romance."
Angie bristles.
"Dumb as most fellas then. Nearly got drummed out of the service during the war on account of a crush."
"Steve Rogers."
"You heard about it."
"She's mentioned it."
"See. Peggy's got a blind spot when it comes to love. That's when it falls to people like myself to keep her safe."
Angie has the urge to run, because she can see the outline of a gun in his pocket. One he shouldn't need just for a retirement party. She squares her shoulder and lifts her chin. "Colonel Phillips it sounds to me like you've got an accusation all loaded up and ready to lob."
"I do Mrs. Martinelli. I really do."
He pulls a file out of a box and throws it towards her. It lands on the table in front of them and newspaper clippings fall out. Fan across the table.
He nods at them even as he draws the gun. "Analyst downstairs picked up the pattern. When he recognized it he came straight to me."
Angie squints at the clippings. Tries to put together the pattern some fella with a degree saw first. Frowns. Has to ignore the gun being aimed at her so she doesn't throw up. Instead she pulls more clippings out. They're—"They're places I shot films."
Out the corner of her eye Angie sees Phillips nodding. "All from when you were there too."
Italy. Greece. France. England. India. The Congo. New York and then LA and the New York again.
She swallows and can taste the bile.
"We haven't made much sense of the code. Which is why you and I are talking, Martinelli. Even if a bullet in your head would be a helluva lot easier."
"Colonel Phillips I don't—I didn't—"
He shakes his head, "Please don't assume on account of my accent I'm an idiot. It isn't a coincidence."
But it is a coincidence. It has to be. Or someone's framing her.
HYDRA.
Peggy insists they stopped them with the capture of Madame Hydra, but what if they didn't? What if they're alive and crafting some big insane plan to ruin Angie—wait.
Her fingers run over the text. The two words that appear in every clipping.
She ducks her head and bites back the laugh.
Armistice Day.
She says the words out loud and Phillips patiently waits for her to explain. Then no amount of chewing on her cheek can stop her from chuckling.
He doesn't ask what's so funny, but he does keep his gun trained on her.
"Colonel, you might not believe it, but this really is a misunderstanding."
"How about you try explaining and I'll decide for myself then."
Her blush has to be redder than her lipstick from the way it makes Phillips uncomfortable. She glosses over the details, but still manages to explain that her idiot girlfriend and her used to use Armistice Day as code for "I love you" and how they haven't seen nearly as much of each other as they should have in the last year.
"I think this was Peggy's way of," she swallows, "saying she missed me."
The Colonel must believe it because he chuckles and pockets the gun. "Analyst said something similar. Bylines are all from SHIELD contacts, but I had to be sure before I just up and left. Couldn't leave my best agent in bed with HYDRA could I?"
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Angie's driving because she rarely trusts Peggy behind the wheel of a car. She kicked her heels off as soon as she got in and there's nothing between her and the pedal accept for the thin sheer of her stocking. Every time she hits the gas it goes straight through her.
They're sitting quietly at a stop light when Angie notices Peggy's hand. It's on the bench between them. Upturned. She's had her hand out waiting for Angie to take it for who knows how long.
So Angie reaches out and takes it.
"You've been quiet," Peggy says. She's watching the scenery through her window but her thumb is stroking Angie's hand. "Everything all right darling?"
Peggy's about the only person Angie's ever met that could say "darling" and not sound hokey. She squeezes tight and nearly lets a lie out of her mouth. Something about "being fine."
Which won't do them any good. "Your former boss pulled a gun on me."
Peggy's grip is still comforting and tight, but she does drag her eyes away from the window to stare at Angie. "Any particular reason he pulled a gun on you?"
Angie shrugs. Brings Peggy's hand up to her lips. "Something about an idiot sending me coded messages every time I'm out of town. Worried I was working for HYDRA."
"HYDRA's dead," Peggy says very seriously.
"Not as dead as I wanted to be explaining 'Armistice Day' to Chester Phillips."
Peggy snorts.
"It's not funny Peg."
"It's a little funny."
"Most folks, when they miss someone, tell them. In a letter. Or on the phone. In person. They don't go framing them for espionage."
It was an accident?" That way Peggy quirks her eyebrow just about does Angie in. It's…it's adorable. Totally at odds with the serious spy master Peggy's supposed to be.
Angie pulls the car over to the side of the road and turns in her seat. She gives Peggy her most severe and serious expression and Peggy tries to respond in kind, but snorts again and ducks her head.
"I am sorry," she insists and when Angie scoffs Peggy slides across the bench so they're legs are touching. "About nearly getting you killed," she amends. "I'm not sorry about what I said."
"Armistice Day is hokey Peggy. Like one of my movies hokey."
"I felt it was less hokey than going on about tomorrows that never die."
God, that old chestnut. She was never gonna live it down. "All right," Angie says—her face completely straight, "we're both hokey."
Peggy tilts Angie towards her and leans in. She's smiling—grinning—and Angie's grinning too because Peggy can make her smile even when the whole rest of the world wants her surly.
She brushes her noses against Angie's. Her lips graze hers. "Absurdly hokey," she says against Angie's mouth.
The kiss is such the hot and bothered kind that Angie has to race them home just so they don't celebrate Armistice Day right there on the side of the road.