Avengers Land Challenge 4: American Smooth
Title: American Smooth
Rating: PG
Word Count: 765
Notes and Summary: Written for the avengers_land Leading Ladies Challenge. My first Peggy-centric story; it was more fun than I anticipated. Let me know how I did. "When it was over, Howard invited her to parties."
When it was over, Howard invited her to parties. He hopes, Peggy believed, she will meet somebody. He thought, perhaps, that she would start to feel something again, like before the war. Not that there had ever been a before the war for them. Or an after. She was not well-suited for peace. She had come from a time when the only glory to be had came from force and bloodshed. A woman of her position had to make certain sacrifices, certain choices, in order to climb the ranks and command the respect of her underlings.
She had been beyond reproach, a soldier first and a woman second, until Steve. With him she had been both. Now she felt like neither. So she put on lipstick and nylons and sipped champagne with Howard’s guests and longed for what she had felt in the war. A sense of purpose, when most knew better than to ask when she would be settling down. And those who didn't could be succinctly quelled, at the point of a gun, if need be.
“Miss,” as the band played a mustachioed gentleman approached her in the ballroom with a strange look in his eyes. In the beginning, she had mistaken it for nausea. She had fled from small talk for the fear of having her shoes spoiled, until Howard assured her it was desire and not sickness that caused men to sweat and stutter in her presence. She knew she was lovely, yes, but she had never before seen herself as an object to be coveted and pursued.
“May I have this dance?”
“Oh,” Peggy lifted one hand to her chest apologetically. “Thank you, but I’m afraid I’m already engaged for this song.”
The gentleman retreated crestfallen, and Peggy returned her attention to the bubbles dancing along the walls of her champagne flute as the band warbled the familiar tune.
“Heaven, I’m in heaven.”
“Peg,” Howard appeared from the crowd and lifted the glass from her hand. “You’re much too pretty to decorate the walls.”
“Oh no,” she protested out of reflex as he took her by the arm.
“I’m not asking,” he said, pulling her toward the dance floor as the band played a foxtrot. “I’m not asking; let’s dance.”
“Howard,” she signed. “I don’t-”
He tucked one arm around her waist and pulled her in close. “It’s just a dance,” he said. “Just one dance. You’re not giving up on anybody.”
“Howard,” she pushed him away and he pulled her back in, wrapping her into a sweetheart position, the frame of his arms seeming to lift her off her feet.
“We’re still looking,” Howard said against her ear, their arms unfolding in a flourish. “We’ll find him.”
“And then what?” Peggy leaned in to the rock-step as the band played on.
The American style of dance was different than in England. Partners danced in open positions, even separate before coming back together. Though it made for more variety, Peggy thought it lacked some of the intimacy of the social dances of her youth.
“You are so beautiful,” Howard said. “And smart. And brave. Being home doesn’t change that. Being alive doesn’t change that.”
“I should have been better,” she said. “I could have convinced him; he didn’t have to…”
Howard’s hand was on her back, his brow pressed close to hers. She closed her eyes as they spun around the perimeter of the dance floor.
“He made a choice,” he said. “We don’t know everything that happened. He did what he thought he had to to save everybody, and it’s not your fault.”
Peggy clung to him and tilted her head away. Looking out across the ballroom it was painfully obvious that the war was over. The young men were home, eager to dance with pretty girls, get married, start families. An easy calm hung over the couples turning on the dance floor in a steady rhythm of slow-slow-quick-quick. Except for one. For them the war was the only thing that felt real, and everything afterwards was just another long weekend.
“I miss him too,” Howard said, pressing his face against her hair. “But whatever happens, whatever happens to us, we have to remember it was worth it. You’re going to be okay, Peg, I promise.”
Peggy leaned against his shoulder and wiped the corner of her eyes as Howard hummed along with the vocalist, rocking on the balls of his feet, separating long enough to turn her under his arm.
“And I seem to find the happiness I seek, when we’re out together, dancing cheek to cheek.”
Peggy closed her eyes and held her breath, and imagined that they were floating on air.
Rating: PG
Word Count: 765
Notes and Summary: Written for the avengers_land Leading Ladies Challenge. My first Peggy-centric story; it was more fun than I anticipated. Let me know how I did. "When it was over, Howard invited her to parties."
When it was over, Howard invited her to parties. He hopes, Peggy believed, she will meet somebody. He thought, perhaps, that she would start to feel something again, like before the war. Not that there had ever been a before the war for them. Or an after. She was not well-suited for peace. She had come from a time when the only glory to be had came from force and bloodshed. A woman of her position had to make certain sacrifices, certain choices, in order to climb the ranks and command the respect of her underlings.
She had been beyond reproach, a soldier first and a woman second, until Steve. With him she had been both. Now she felt like neither. So she put on lipstick and nylons and sipped champagne with Howard’s guests and longed for what she had felt in the war. A sense of purpose, when most knew better than to ask when she would be settling down. And those who didn't could be succinctly quelled, at the point of a gun, if need be.
“Miss,” as the band played a mustachioed gentleman approached her in the ballroom with a strange look in his eyes. In the beginning, she had mistaken it for nausea. She had fled from small talk for the fear of having her shoes spoiled, until Howard assured her it was desire and not sickness that caused men to sweat and stutter in her presence. She knew she was lovely, yes, but she had never before seen herself as an object to be coveted and pursued.
“May I have this dance?”
“Oh,” Peggy lifted one hand to her chest apologetically. “Thank you, but I’m afraid I’m already engaged for this song.”
The gentleman retreated crestfallen, and Peggy returned her attention to the bubbles dancing along the walls of her champagne flute as the band warbled the familiar tune.
“Heaven, I’m in heaven.”
“Peg,” Howard appeared from the crowd and lifted the glass from her hand. “You’re much too pretty to decorate the walls.”
“Oh no,” she protested out of reflex as he took her by the arm.
“I’m not asking,” he said, pulling her toward the dance floor as the band played a foxtrot. “I’m not asking; let’s dance.”
“Howard,” she signed. “I don’t-”
He tucked one arm around her waist and pulled her in close. “It’s just a dance,” he said. “Just one dance. You’re not giving up on anybody.”
“Howard,” she pushed him away and he pulled her back in, wrapping her into a sweetheart position, the frame of his arms seeming to lift her off her feet.
“We’re still looking,” Howard said against her ear, their arms unfolding in a flourish. “We’ll find him.”
“And then what?” Peggy leaned in to the rock-step as the band played on.
The American style of dance was different than in England. Partners danced in open positions, even separate before coming back together. Though it made for more variety, Peggy thought it lacked some of the intimacy of the social dances of her youth.
“You are so beautiful,” Howard said. “And smart. And brave. Being home doesn’t change that. Being alive doesn’t change that.”
“I should have been better,” she said. “I could have convinced him; he didn’t have to…”
Howard’s hand was on her back, his brow pressed close to hers. She closed her eyes as they spun around the perimeter of the dance floor.
“He made a choice,” he said. “We don’t know everything that happened. He did what he thought he had to to save everybody, and it’s not your fault.”
Peggy clung to him and tilted her head away. Looking out across the ballroom it was painfully obvious that the war was over. The young men were home, eager to dance with pretty girls, get married, start families. An easy calm hung over the couples turning on the dance floor in a steady rhythm of slow-slow-quick-quick. Except for one. For them the war was the only thing that felt real, and everything afterwards was just another long weekend.
“I miss him too,” Howard said, pressing his face against her hair. “But whatever happens, whatever happens to us, we have to remember it was worth it. You’re going to be okay, Peg, I promise.”
Peggy leaned against his shoulder and wiped the corner of her eyes as Howard hummed along with the vocalist, rocking on the balls of his feet, separating long enough to turn her under his arm.
“And I seem to find the happiness I seek, when we’re out together, dancing cheek to cheek.”
Peggy closed her eyes and held her breath, and imagined that they were floating on air.