A/N: Help, I've fallen and I can't get up. Obviously, I do not own the characters. Unfortunately.
Angie's not stupid or without manners, even if she wasn't raised in a boarding school. Although sometimes, manners or not, she feels like a teenage boy when it comes to certain things.
More specifically: women.
And unfortunately Peggy Carter is one of those women that seems to turn Angie instantly into a teenage boy.
She's been dealing with this side of herself for as long as she can remember.
There was Nancy, her childhood best friend, who quickly dropped Angie when she made the first move, which at 13 was pretty smooth, if she does say so herself.
And Josephine, her drama line-running partner, who smelled like honeysuckle and maple syrup and made it insanely hard to know the difference between acting and real life.
And then there was Lucy, her parents' next door neighbor, who let it happen… more than once… and more than twice… actually, more times than Angie really remembers (that's a lie - Angie remembers every. single. time.) until her parents found out. And, well, it's not hard to imagine that was the end of that.
But gosh, Peggy Carter?
This was not something Angie ever expected. Or - truthfully - wanted.
And when Peggy first brought herself into the Automat with that dark hair and those red lips strutting in on those shapely legs with the stockings that have the seam up the back… Whelp, let's just say Angie was speechless. And making Angie Martinelli speechless? That's a big deal. But it happened. Because Peggy Carter is beautiful. And the best part? Angie's pretty sure Peggy has no idea just how beautiful she is.
The worst part? Angie knows what it's like to fall for someone that won't ever love her back. As much as she'd love to experience love with desire and passion, the closest she ever got was Lucy and that's just not a story she wants to talk about right now. Or ever.
So, she tried. She really did.
But then Peggy looked at her with those eyes and spoke to her with that accent…
Christ, call the ambulance, because Angie might as well have had a heart attack.
And then Peggy became a regular. Oh, how Angie loved that she knew exactly what this woman wanted the instant she walked into the Automat. And she knew what a good day looked like for Peggy and, unfortunately, she knew what a bad day looked like. A gentle head nod, the soft flutter of eyelids and lashes... It was all really comforting in a weird way – even though 90% of the time she was trying to remember to not fall in love with this woman... to be professional.
It's hard to be professional all the time, though. Especially with a regular, because it becomes a friendship. Like it or not. Exchanging moments from the day or asking what's happening later tonight become questions between friends. They have nothing to do with the fact that Angie wanted to be what was happening with Peggy later every night.
Then the brush-offs started to happen.
Angie really didn't want to let Peggy's brush-offs bother her. She's not stupid, after all. She knew her place in Peggy's life. She pours the coffee, brings the pie, and Peggy leaves a tip. It's frustrating and sad, but it's not worth it to get upset about it.
(Regardless whether or not it's worth it, Angie lets it upset her. And she knows Peggy knows. But she pulls up short and walks a little taller, because she's a Martinelli. And she doesn't let people see her falter. Ever.)
It's when she sees Peggy push through the revolving door, pause for a second, make eye contact, and then take the remaining steps towards the bar that Angie reminds herself to stay strong, because it's not worth it. Even as Peggy slides onto the barstool and places her purse on the bartop, Angie still keeps that thought in her head.
It's not worth it. Stay Strong. It's not worth it.
And then she speaks and Angie hears the waiver in her voice and Angie's eyes instantly travel to hers and she can see the tears that are dangerously close to falling.
It's not worth it, Angela.
She wants to tell Angie about her day.
God, it's not worth it.
And Peggy's co-worker died. And Peggy's a hot friggin' mess.
Shit.
It's worth it.
It's definitely worth it.
But those eyes… and that voice as she says, "I think that jerk quite fancies you." Yeah, Angie's dead in the water.
So, when she finishes her shift and they go back to the Griffith and Peggy's fumbling with her keys while leaning against the door of her apartment trying to open it, Angie can't help but wonder why this woman is so nervous.
"You okay, English?" Angie smiles when she says it and she can tell the way Peggy's eyes flit up to hers and then back down to the keys that this woman is far from okay. "Hey," Angie says as she reaches her hand out and places it on Peggy's arm. She freezes as Angie leans in closer, taking the keys from her. Peggy's breath is hot against Angie's face, because even as Angie moved in closer, Peggy didn't move away, and it's making it hard to focus, but it's a key and a lock, Angie. Get your shit together.
When Angie walks into the apartment after Peggy, she has to shake her head and slow her mind down, because what the hell was that about and why, oh why, is this woman so beautiful?
"Let me fetch us glasses for the schnapps," Peggy says as she toes her heels off by the closet.
"Oh, I figured we'd just drink from the bottle," Angie says with a smirk and Peggy looks back at her over her shoulder. "I'm kidding, Peg." Angie plops down on Peggy's bed and smoothes a hand over her quilt. It's pink and a little frilly, which doesn't surprise her as much as it just makes her stomach tie in knots. Peggy pads over to Angie, hands her a small glass identical to hers, and as she holds them out, only a little unsteady, Angie cracks the seal on the schnapps and pours equal amounts into each glass.
"To ending shitty days," Angie says, her glass in the air. Peggy clinks hers against Angie's, nods her head a little before bringing the glass to her nose. She sniffs it before sipping and Angie swears it's one of the cutest things she's ever seen.
She honestly tries not to watch Peggy's every move as she brings the glass up to her red, red lips and takes a long sip of the schnapps, but she fails. Horribly. She is beginning to realize just how awful she would be at poker and silently thanks God that Peggy doesn't seem like the card playing type.
"That's quite good," Peggy says softly, her voice soft and warm.
"Mmmhmm," Angie comments, leaning forward a bit so she can see the other woman's face. "Peg, you want to talk anymore about your day? You know I'm all ears if you do."
"You're very kind, Angie, but really, I think I'll manage."
"Why don't you tell me something else then… Something else about you?" Angie asks the question and immediately sees Peggy's cheeks fill with red. She's pretty excited with herself. It's a skill she has acquired - getting women to let their walls down - and when it works, it really works.
"Oh, Angie, I'm afraid I'm not all that exciting. Why don't you tell me more about you?"
"You're kidding me, English. With legs like those? You're far from boring. C'mon, tell me. Why don't you tell me about that beau you've been seeing who drives the fancy car? He seems like a tall drink of water."
Peggy lets out a laugh and it makes Angie's heart flutter in her chest. "Oh, dear God that's not my boyfriend," she says through her laughter. "He's really just a colleague. I can assure you."
"He seems like he's real sweet on you."
"Oh, does he now? And why's that, pray tell?"
Angie reaches up and tucks a loose curl behind Peggy's ear and then tugs lightly on it. "Well, maybe not," she breathes as she pulls her eyes away from those red lips. "I can't say that I'd blame him, though."
"Angie," Peggy starts, her voice hitching in her throat. "You know I think you're a wonderful person."
"English, hold up, there's no need to go letting me down easy, alright? I'm just sayin'. You're a beautiful woman. He'd be stupid not to notice ya." Angie's heart is in her throat and gosh dangit, she needs to stop being such a sucker for dames with red, red lips. She feels Peggy's hand cover hers that's resting on the bed between the two of them. Angie's breath hitches and she glances down at Peggy's hand with the perfectly manicured nails, then back up to those dark brown eyes.
"That's not at all what I was going to say," Peggy says, a little breathless, a whole lot beautiful.
Angie studies Peggy's face, the small scar on her cheek, the matching one on her nose, the way her eyelashes curl at the edges, and the tiny sliver of white from her teeth where her lips are parted. Dammit. "What were you going to say then?" The question comes out more as a squeak than Angie wanted, but it's too late to turn back now.
"It might be a bit premature," Peggy starts, squeezing Angie's hand slightly, "But you're my first real friend I've made in a long time."
Angie'd be lying if she didn't admit that her heart falls from its spot in her throat. It's now resting in the bottom of her stomach, defeated, deflated. "I'm honored," she says, forcing a smile, puts that poker face on and then goes to move her hand. Peggy lets it go and then it's just the two of them sitting side by side on the bed. "I better get going," Angie says quietly, knocking back the rest of her glass of schnapps. When she brings the cup down from her lips, she feels a hand on her cheek, turning her face to look at Peggy. "Peg, wha-"
"Shhh," Peggy cuts her off, moves her thumb lightly over Angie's bottom lip, smiles at her. "I've never let anyone get close to me." Angie feels Peggy's fingers press into her neck before she runs them across her collarbone. "And you…"
Peggy's voice falls silent and Angie asks, "I what?"
A smile comes to Peggy's lips, "You don't seem to care that I keep pushing you away."
"I care," Angie whispers. "I just refuse to give up."
"You remind me of myself a little in that aspect," Peggy replies, her eyes moving from Angie's lips up to her eyes and then back down.
"You know I won't stop you if you…"
"If I what, Angie?" Peggy's eyebrow raises slightly over her left eye. "You sure you could handle it?"
"Peg -"
And then Peggy does it. She kisses Angie. She leans in, places those full, red lips right on Angie's and dammit, the world could end right now and they'd both be okay with it.
A moan reverberates in Angie's throat when Peggy's tongue dips in between her lips and hotly slides against her tongue. She feels Peggy angle her body more and those delicate but strong hands land on her shoulders, move cautiously up to Angie's neck and when she bites down so softly on Peggy's bottom lip, the sound that comes out of that beautiful mouth is enough to make Angie's toes curl and her heart stop beating, but she contains herself as best as she can.
"I can't," Angie starts, her lips pressed into Peggy's, "believe," Peggy breaks apart and latches onto Angie's jawline, "this is happening," Angie finishes, breathless.
A chuckle escapes from Peggy's mouth as she's peppering Angie's neck with kisses. "It is satisfactory, isn't it?" she asks as she looks up at Angie, her lipstick smeared, her eyes hopeful.
"English," Angie says, placing her hands on either side of Peggy's face and pulling her back. "You talk too much." And Peggy sighs, her shoulders relaxing. "It's perfect," Angie whispers against Peggy's lips. "You're perfect." And she kisses her again.
And again.
Until Angie can't feel her own lips.
And it's worth it.
It's so very worth it.