(for the anon who wanted Steve/Peggy/Jack)
“DiMaggio alone is better than all the Dodgers put together,” Thompson insisted. Of all the things he’d never dreamed he’d be doing on a Friday night, sitting in the back of a surveillance van with Captain America and arguing the merits of the Yankees versus the Dodgers was pretty high up on the list.
“He’s good,” Captain Rogers conceded. “But one guy can’t make up for an entire team.”
“Unless super soldier serum is involved?” Peggy asked. She sat by the van’s window, binoculars held to her face as she peered out into the night. Thompson didn’t have to see her eyes to know they were rolling.
Rogers shrugged modestly. “I can’t play baseball,” he said.
“Well, we all have our faults,” Peggy replied.
Thompson watched the two of them from his side of the van. Rogers was seated next to where Peggy kept vigil, absently doodling on a stray piece of paper he’d found. There was an easiness between them – a camaraderie bred from war and mutual understanding that Thompson couldn’t help but envy. He hadn’t had that kind of easiness with anyone since sometime in the spring of 1945. He shook the thought from his mind almost as soon as it entered.
Peggy sighed and lowered the binoculars for a moment so she could stretch, peering curiously over at Rogers’s paper as she did so. “What are you drawing?” she asked.
“It’s supposed to be a penguin,” Rogers replied, holding the paper up so they could both get a better look at it. “I don’t think my heart is in it though.”
Peggy examined the drawing for a moment. “I suspect it may more be a problem with your eyes,” she said. “Were they open when you drew it?”
“Regrettably. I had to witness the whole process.”
“And have you ever seen a penguin, Steve?”
“Only pictures,” Rogers admitted. “Can I use that as an excuse?”
“No. But I’ll introduce you to Howard’s butler. He’ll give you some idea of what the creatures are supposed to look like.”
Thompson snorted at this, and Peggy shot him a grin. It surprised him a little. Watching the two of them was like watching the rest of the world disappear. Thompson swore that for a moment even he’d forgotten he existed.
“And what are you so busy with over there, Jack?” Peggy asked, her full attention suddenly on him. He wasn’t sure how she could look away from Captain America for that long – Thompson had barely stopped staring at the man since they’d gotten in the van. It wasn’t something he was proud of, but he supposed if there was one person to be star-struck over, at least it made sense that it would be the star-spangled man himself.
“Just finishing some reports,” he replied. “Nothin’ as exotic as that penguin on this side of the van.”
“Exotic,” said Rogers, pointing at Thompson approvingly. “I like that. Good word choice.”
Thompson gave him a half-smile. “Tryin’ to be diplomatic. The last thing I want to do on this assignment is piss Captain America off.”
“I guess you’ll just have to admit it then,” Rogers informed him seriously.
“That the Dodgers could crush the Yankees any day.”
The smile dropped from Thompson’s face. “I’m not gonna perjure myself, even for Captain America.”
Peggy let out a sigh and returned her attention to her binoculars. “Honestly,” she said, sounding singularly unimpressed. “Such fuss over what’s really nothing more than a poor man’s cricket.”
The only thing that saved her from the noose was the wicked and utterly charming smile she flashed them.