bakerstreet | (no subject)

(no subject)

the 'fake married' meme

be it for a job, in order to get your inheritance or to fool your nosy neighbours, you are pretending to be married. now the question is, do you want it to be real or can you hardly wait for it to be over?

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[ It wasn't precisely their plan to go into this as Mr and Mrs Jameson, the ridiculously wealthy couple visiting from England. Mr Jarvis had simply been in the field to check whether or not the coast was clear before Peggy slipped in to snatch the device before the bidding began — but as it so happens, the auction was scheduled to start right on time and now they're forced to improvise. Not too difficult, really: her partner-in-crime already wears a wedding band and Peggy actually keeps one on her person in case of such emergencies. (No, really.)

Currently, the cocktail hour is still in full swing; soon they'll be ushered into the room to play along with all the other would-be collectors. Peggy neatly slips her arm through Jarvis' and gently steers him off to the side of the room, away from the couple he'd been chitchatting with. ]

Excuse me. Might I steal you away for a moment, darling? [ And once they're in the clear: ] Well. [ She drops her voice and gaze under the pretense of rummaging in her pocketbook for her lipstick and a compact. ] This isn't precisely ideal, but beggars can't be choosers. Doesn't— [ Howard. ] —our mutual friend have an emergency fund for something like this?

[ If he's being honest, he's still not sure how he feels about the whole affair. There's a certain thrill to it — espionage, that is — but heaven knows he's not trained for it, nor particularly good at spooling out a lie. But, to their advantage, there's something in a foreign accent that both fascinates Americans (or their current crowd, at least) and makes them unlikely to look too closely at either of them. He doesn't know that they'd have even noticed if she weren't wearing a ring, with the fact that she carries a spare turning out to be the most surprising find of the night thus far.

For all that he seems to be at ease conversing with the people around them, his shoulders (usually held so upright) slump a little as they find themselves an unoccupied corner of the room. This — keeping their voices low, pretending to speak of nothing while they speak of the auction and sale of untested weapons — is easier than pretending he's somebody that he isn't. (As odd as it may sound, it's easier to pretend that they're married, like this.) His gaze follows her fingers, his own hands finding his pockets as he affects nonchalance. ]

Not for this exact purpose, but— anything for a good cause.

[ He turns briefly, glancing back at the room at large. ]

Tell me, darling— [ the endearment slips from his tongue (Agent will hardly do under these circumstances, after all) ] —have you ever bid in an auction, before?

[ The ring she carries is lovely but cheaply made, a prop in every sense of the word. One she uses more as a weapon than a defense when it comes to certain people's perceptions of who she is, what she does (supposedly does). It's an easy story and easier still to disappear behind another man's name than be singled out for her own. Jarvis is a good man to play along with their impromptu cover, though she does feel for him, what with keeping him from his real wife this evening. Still, it's a moment of respite, ducking into the corner as they do. Peggy locates her compact just as he speaks, huffing out a soft breath of laughter at the first bit.

By the second, she looks up and cocks a brow. ]

No, but how hard can it be? [ Typical Peggy Carter and her special brand of cavalier attitude. ] ...Granted, there's a difference between black market technology and antiques pilfered during the war, but they're equally illegal, so! [ She snaps her compact open, angling it ever so slightly over her shoulder to study the gentleman with a briefcase handcuffed to his wrist. She waits until he disappears through a door and glances back at her would-be husband with a smile. ] Chin up, Mr Jameson. We're part of a crowd that doesn't want to be caught. I don't think anyone would care to admit they were here at all, let alone that they saw us.

[ Jarvis' smile is a little more understated, the expression there and then gone. (He doesn't mention that he'll have to find some way of explaining this to Anna because they both already know it; he had only meant to be gone a short while, not the bulk of the night, and heaven knows he's a dedicated husband, if not — by necessity — a completely forthright one.

The ring that he wears is simple, not made by the finest of jewelers but lovingly worn, its provenance less important than the woman that it binds him to.) ]

I suppose you're right, [ he concedes, ] on the count of our present company, at least. As to the matter of participating in tonight's festivities, I have had the pleasure of assisting our aforementioned mutual friend both at philanthropic auctions and in acquiring a few pieces of rather rare art. Again, there is a difference between unpatented war machines and dinner with a Hollywood starlet, but— bidding is based solely in good instinct and good sense, both of which I am happy to say you possess in spades.

[ A beat, and then: ] Do you think there'll be much trouble, regardless? I imagine that even after the money exchanges hands, there will be a few bidders unwilling to accept a defeat.

[ She listens without commentary, granting only the briefest flash of a smile and rolling shrug at his assessment. She knows what she can do and what she is capable of, but it doesn't make it any less refreshing or gratifying to hear someone say it — particularly when her record is so neatly dismissed at work. At first, she had been a little irritated at the idea of being assigned Howard's butler for this mission, but time has proven that he isn't just an ally but a good friend (and not just because he reminds her she's worth a damn). For all that Peggy Carter has been determined to go it alone, she's certainly been glad and grateful that she hasn't had to do so for very long despite her stubbornness. (Steve, Howard, the Commandos, even Colonel Phillips.) ]

The ones who present more than a passing interest in our specific lot are the ones we ought to keep an eye on outside this room. [ Anyone that invested in dangerous weapons present more risk than an upset collector, particularly if they're from a country on the losing side of the war. There are a lot of potential suspects at this event, people that could be potential leads to the infuriatingly murky full picture they're chasing. ] Perhaps this is a stroke of luck, after all. We'd kill two birds with one stone if we win back the item and track down a suspect or two.

[ They still haven't gotten closer to learning who or what Leviathan is or how Howard Stark's technology ties into it all. It's her turn to glance out to the room, brow gently furrowed, curbing her habit of catching her bottom lip between her teeth. How unwilling to accept a defeat? ]

Have you had much experience in, ah, auction room brawls?

[ Because she's perfectly capable of handling a brawl, but. You know. ]

[ Similarly, over the course of their adventures together, Jarvis has come to consider Peggy a friend (and not just that, but someone to be held in admiration, in high esteem). That trust, for however naive he may seem, is not something that he hands out easily. He had learned — in the war, if not earlier — that loyalty is not always returned in kind, no matter how steadfast it may be. Sometimes the world requires a touch of selfishness in order to combat the selfsame thing (his accusal of treason, his dishonorable discharge), and those who manage to avoid that compromise are rare, indeed. Despite their time having begun with her striking him in the face, all the praise he'd heard about her from Howard (and more) has proven to be true.

To wit: as averse to this sort of risk as he may be, he's willing to take the plunge, for her. ]

Nothing beyond the odd verbal altercation, I'm afraid, [ he confesses, a touch of wryness in his tone. (She's being kind in asking.) ] Cutting remarks, but not crossing fists.

[ A beat. He straights up a little, gaze leaving her once more to survey the perimeter of the room and the way people mill about as the amount of time they have before the auction begins grows smaller and smaller. One could cut that sort of anticipation with a knife. ]

Perhaps it might be best to formulate an exit strategy?

[ And there aren't very many who would dare to jump with her; oftentimes, if they'll go to the ends of the earth with her, she'll risk it all for them. People in Peggy's line of work to not hand out loyalty so easily, her least of all, and she's tested the strength of it before. Of most of the missions they've run together (because they have indeed done that; every good soldier needs another watching their back and more than a getaway car, Mr Jarvis has been support), this one provides the least risk of bodily harm, but that doesn't mean they ought to drop their guard. She's keeping him from Anna tonight and she intends to return him to her healthy, whole, and on time. Having someone you love to come home to is no small matter and Peggy Carter intends to honour that.

Thus: an exit strategy. ]

Well, don't sound so disappointed, my dear. You might just come to fisticuffs soon enough. [ It's lighthearted and absent teasing as her gaze skims the room one more time. Out the front door would be the most inconspicuous and perhaps the only option, but... Her voice drops a fraction lower, leaning in to speak with him but also taking care to lay her hand gently on his. Sweet, intimate, married. ] If you haven't already guessed, this was a speakeasy during Prohibition. In the event of a police raid, staff and customers would slip out a back exit while the authorities came storming in through the front. Most clubs were too small to have two doors, but this one certainly must if we've all crammed into it.

[ She leans away from him, just enough to start adjusting his tie and collar, voice still soft. ]

So, while everyone makes their way into the auction, I could wander round in search of a powder room. [ Poor little lost wife. ] Once I've located that, I'll rendezvous with you, we'll secure the item, and we'll all be back home in time for for a nightcap before bed.

[ They cut a pretty picture, for anyone watching. At the edge of the room, they are cast half in light and half in shadow, both of them turned toward each other, lost in private conversation like some as-yet lost Hopper painting. (They fall into it this easily because there is already a base there — because, despite the fact that they haven't known each other that long nor in this particular capacity, they trust each other.)

The smile that he offers her is small, but doesn't betray any shaken nerves, nor any unwillingness to go through with the task at hand. ]

Splendid. Or, at least, a diverting way of spending the evening.

[ A voice cuts over the dull chatter of the crowd, asking that participants begin finding their seats over the course of the next several minutes. Bit by bit, people start to move, heading either directly into the makeshift auction hall or towards the table upon which the bidding fans are laid out. Jarvis, for his part, squares his shoulders (steels the rest of his resolve). In the time that they've had here thus far, he has already managed to divine the number of lots that will be up for sale tonight, though exactly what else they'll see beyond the piece of stolen Stark technology they're here to retrieve, he isn't exactly sure. ]

I've a call to place with a rather remote bank, but— [ with a nod towards the array of bidding paddles, their number somewhere among them ] —I'll meet you by the table, after.

[ He leans in again, then, though it isn't to listen. It's a last thought in the exchange, a way of maintaining the illusion they're supposed to present to the rest of the people in the room. His fingertips just barely brush the curve of her jaw as he kisses her cheek, there and then gone as he smiles at her one more time (apologetic, fleeting) before turning away, heading back into the company of those they're hoping to outbid. ]

[ It's simple, but Jarvis' parting gesture is the one thing this evening that takes her most by surprise. Not for the presumption of it or the intimacy, but rather the gentleness of it all — something so light and, surely, second-nature to him as the doting husband of a doubtlessly wonderful woman is still one of the kindest things to touch her life, lately. She watches him go and, with a pang, she suddenly misses Steve. Would they have run espionage like this, together? (She doubts it; even if he weren't famous, he would have stood out after the serum.) Would she have learned to communicate in that unspoken language only couples married and in love know? She may be a codebreaker, an international spy with a couple dialects under her belt, but there's a whole half of life she isn't entirely sure she knows how to live. By that alone, Jarvis is already better at this cover than he might think. If anyone were suspicious of them and their story, it's his sincerity that sells it. Not her.

He disappears into the crowd and she shakes herself of her reverie, pulls herself sharply back to the present and the mission at hand. (She finds herself doing this far too often for her own liking, lately.) She goes the opposite direction, silently weaving her way around the other buyers, mapping the room and the faces she passes. She snatches a canapé from a platter and stuffs it into her mouth, looks suitably appalled when the napkin that follows it comes away with lipstick; the woman at her elbow immediately comes to her rescue with a sympathetic nod to the back. Lovely.

It doesn't take long for Peggy to find the cramped powder room and follow the hallway to a narrow doorway and the alley beyond. She drops a handkerchief in the doorjamb to keep it from locking behind her as she turns back, ducks into the ladies' to freshen up and kill time, finally emerging once the bidding has properly started. She has to wait between lots to rejoin Jarvis, silent and careful not to make any movements that might be misconstrued as a bid. She can't tell him what she's found, not here, so he will have to trust her to lead them out just as she's trusting him to win their lot.

Which, incidentally, is coming up. ]

[ In between here and there, it doesn't seem that Jarvis has suffered any trouble. (Unsurprising — he's good at engaging in polite small talk, in diverting conversation without being obvious. The sorts of things you pick up being under Howard Stark's employ and brushing shoulders with all sorts of people.) He has a paddle with their number printed on it held neatly in his hands, watching the auction progress with a surface level of interest that would never betray the sort of stakes they have hanging on tonight. When Peggy reappears, he offers her a smile and a nod, though he says nothing to disturb the ongoing lot.

The next is theirs. (The auctioneer describes it as an artifact from the second World War, a description that gets a wry huff of laughter from Jarvis given how serviceable but profoundly off-base it is.) The bidding, to make a long story short, goes smoothly. While the numbers are still low, there are multiple interested parties, but as the price begins to rise, they drop off, one by one. Jarvis doesn't constantly bid (he doesn't have to be first in line the whole time, that's not how this game works), allowing others to drive up the price and occasionally raising their card in order to keep the auctioneer's eye on them. There are two other serious bidders, two other numbers, and it's as it becomes clear there are only three of them in contention that Jarvis leans over, and whispers only one of the two cards into Peggy's ear. He doesn't explain his reasoning — much as she can't divulge her findings just yet, he can't be obvious with regards to his own.

Ultimately, he wins through equal parts shock tactics and through how much money he has at his disposal; the price is already steep when he raises it by more than three times the default increment — the pause that follows is enough to win them the lot. He offers Peggy his hand in order to escort her from the room (some have already left, so it won't be conspicuous if they take their leave now, as well). One of the attendants is carrying their winning from the stage already, bringing it around to another table set up by the edge of the room for them to choose to take it now or collect at the end of the auction.

Naturally, though, they're in a little bit of a hurry. ]

Shall we?

[ With all eyes on the bidding at hand, Peggy spares the moment to glance over at the man Jarvis indicates. Not a face she recognises, but that doesn't mean she can't file it away for later. Clandestine events such as this one wouldn't dare risk keeping a roster of who is present simply for the protection of everyone involved, so there's no clear paper trail she'll be able to track in the aftermath. Difficult, but not impossible, if the gentleman in question proves to be more than what he seems. Jarvis' winning bid earns a smile from her, modest and downcast but no less genuine, and she gives his hand a congratulatory squeeze when he takes hers to make their exit. ]

Well played, [ she murmurs as they circle towards the table to receive the weapon. The attendant poses his question and Peggy neatly intercepts it. ] I'm afraid my husband and I have the last flight out of LaGuardia Field tonight. So if you please... [ And with that, their purchase is neatly packaged and handed to them. While Jarvis handles the transaction, Peggy scans the crowd and finds their competition watching them. She takes in a slow breath and leans back in, voice low. ]

Mr Oh-Eight-Four seems a little upset. I suggest you hurry before he decides to do more than glare. [ And once they're able: ] Now put your arm around me and follow my lead.

[ Her husband seemingly steering her out of the room, Peggy guides with a gentle pressure to his own waist as she indicates towards the exit she's located. She hangs back a second to ensure they aren't being followed or seen, then she goes after Jarvis, picking up her handkerchief on the way out. ]

[ (If anyone checks the airfield manifests the next day, there will be no record of the Jamesons ever coming nor going, but that is not their clue to have to untie.)

As with the rest of the evening thus far, things go well. There's no trouble in wiring the money from the bank (through an intermediary source, Jarvis makes sure, in order to make any tracking even more difficult), no trouble in taking the case they are given and spiriting it from the room. He does as he'd told, winding an arm around Peggy's waist and letting her lead them out of the hall. He only lets his hand fall when they're outside, picking up the pace (glancing back once to make sure she's still with him) as they make their way to the car, parked a couple of blocks away. ]

He was the only one who wasn't considering the price before raising his card, [ Jarvis says, as soon as they reach the car, already opening the trunk in order to load in the case. ] Or at least, not until the end. But people tend not to bid like that unless they are desperate for whatever is on offer.

[ The trunk closes with a click, and, for all of his prior apprehension, Jarvis looks much the way he had after their first mission together when he climbs into the car. ]

The Griffith, then?

Not if we're being followed. [ Always a possibility but surely one with the man in question. Peggy hasn't yet noticed a tail, but she won't have it coming to a building full of innocent civilians, nor would she have Mr Jarvis followed home to Anna. ] I suggest we make way to Queens and double back, to be sure. [ She quirks an eyebrow. ] If you've no objections to driving across the river, of course. Darling.

[ It's all for everyone's safety, really. It's early enough in the evening that people commuting out of Manhattan would cause a good enough amount of business on the roads and they can disappear with little effort. Peggy isn't even entirely sure if she wants to leave a Stark invention in Jarvis' hands, trustworthy though they may be. They were stolen under his watch and what good would come of it being in his possession if he were ever searched? She doesn't want any of this pinned on either of them. The goal is to clear Howard's name, not give the media and the SSR scapegoats.

There must be someplace they can stash it. ]

So tell me what our new toy does. Turn you inside-out? Render the victim deaf? Make scrambled eggs? [ She tuts. ] Though I suppose if it's the latter, your cook would be out of a job. Or did you take care of that after the spoon incident?

[ Much the same thoughts are running through Jarvis' head. Considering how closely anything even remotely Stark-related is being surveilled, there's no good to come of bringing the contraption back with him, especially given the giant hole in the bottom of the vault. The other option — that it go with Peggy — is not particularly tenable given the lack of any sort of vault at all (no matter how impenetrable Miss Fry might fancy the Griffith to be). Then again—

—the echo of the pet name is met with another, single, dry laugh, barely a breath as Jarvis keeps his eyes on the road. ]

You'll be happy to know that the vetting process has become much stricter, [ he says, tackling the last question first. ] Mr. Stark does still employ a chef, though, needless to say, they are currently not at work given his ongoing leave of absence. As for our current traveling companion— [ Jarvis pauses, glancing back even though he can't exactly see through to the contents of the trunk, his voice taking on a wry note as he continues ] —it alerts one to the presence of unexploded land mines within a certain radius by detonating them.

[ They stop and start in traffic, city lights glimmering before and behind them as they pass over Roosevelt Island. (Maybe one of the apartments leased under a pseudonym, he thinks, idly. The device is hardly recognizable, after all, so long as it stays packed up.) ]

So, not a particularly dangerous weapon where we are now, but — not a pretty sight, overseas.

[ Oh, Howard. The things you come up with. She's sure she can figure out what good he meant to do with this invention, she's sure he never meant any ill will with it. Probably something along the lines of wanting to help London after the Blitz and finding UXOs so that the rebuilding efforts weren't put in jeopardy, nor were the civilians moving back in after the rubble's been cleared away.

If that were his line of thinking, she can't blame Mr Jarvis for going along with the assumption and stating the device's dangers only lie overseas — in territories that have seen active warfare, that would have undetonated ordinances. Surely there's no risk here in the United States? ]

Actually... [ God, but she does hate being privy to top secret information sometimes. Peggy wonders (briefly) what it would be like to go through life without a care in the world. Sounds dreadfully boring, in the long run, but she images it's rather peaceful too. Nothing for it now. ] A great deal of captured enemy munitions and excess in American inventories have been disposed at sea since the war ended. Some are... obsolete, unserviceable, or there's simply more than the military needs. Not just explosives, either, but chemical weapons. I don't need to tell you how brutal the past few years have been to warrant all that.

[ Peggy breathes out, brow furrowing. This is what happens when supplies overshoot the demand. It's a good thing, of course, that they haven't got a need for so many explosives. And it's a good thing these aren't as active a risk as UXOs since those are armed and only failed to go off in the moment. But she has no doubt that Howard is very good at what he does and that a little detail like armed or unarmed bombs won't stand in the way of his genius. ]

They've done it in Europe and I'm afraid here as well, so our coastlines aren't as safe from Howard's invention as we might hope. You say land mines but I don't want to risk seeing what else it can trip, don't you agree?

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