Who: Peggy and OTA What: She can't focus Where: Gym in Stark Tower When: Sunday morning Warnings: Possibly swearing, violence against a gym bag, flashbacks etc Status: OPEN!
If she was honest with herself, Peggy would always carry anger on her shoulders like Atlas carrying the world. It made no sense to her why people lied, why people hid, why people told you a story to your face and another behind your back. She was sick of putting on her own disguise and playing the lady sometimes; she couldn't even remember the last time she trained and if there was one thing she knew, it was how to train. All the years of getting trained with the best had made her competitive and she didn't like the too-full curves settling around her hips the last few weeks since she'd arrived on the island. It had made her complacent, the safety, and her injury hadn't helped. Her grandmother always medicated with food and it was a trait Peggy had inherited, offering biscuits, cakes, scones, even full meals to those in emotional need. The problem was she'd put on weight, gotten sloppy and out of control and she did not like being out of control.
Sunday morning at the crack of dawn after a night of sleeplessness, Peggy had left a note for Steve and kissed her sleeping child with a soft smile and slipped away in search of something to pound with her fists and feet into oblivion. It was all she knew really; punch, kick, swing, duck, throw, dodge. It was ingrained into her to move swiftly, to dupe men into thinking she was weak and use it to her advantage but she’d be damned if she was going to really be weak. Self-pity was never her style. It was barely light outside but she managed to get into the gym at Stark Tower with ease, pulling off her fleece-lined jacket to the grey sweatpants (as Steve called them now) and sports vest that clung but it was needed to support her chest and not get in the way as she walked past all the modern machines and to the one thing that would never change: the punching bag. Strapping up her hands and with her hair out of the way, Peggy started pounding on the damn bag, completely lost in the cacophony of her under-worked muscles screaming at her as she trained.