AN: I wasn't supposed to even watch Agent Carter, let alone like it. Now suddenly I'm writing Cartinelli-smut, because Agent Carter is fabulous and my brain wants to spend time imagining Hayley Atwell naked. Sorry. Or you're welcome? It was supposed to be pwp, but I seem unable to write that, so sorry about the plot. (Apologies if anyone was hoping for an R&I-update.)

No beta, all mistakes are mine and I'm a lousy proofreader of my own stuff, so there are bound to be some. BE spelling when Peggy is thinking, AE when Angie is, since I couldn't decide what made most sense.

Property of Not Me. Just borrowing the pretty to play with.

Tomorrow can wait

Angie couldn't sleep. She had certainly tried, since she had an early audition, but it wasn't rare for her to be keyed up after a busy night shift. Usually, she just stayed up until she became sleepy and didn't care what the time was. She wanted to go see if Peggy might still be awake. She sighed. Nothing unusual there either. She pretty much wanted to be close to Peggy all the time. But she shouldn't. Her roommate needed to sleep so she had the energy to save the world and put up with her fathead male co-workers, the latter possibly more of a challenge than the former.

And then there was this strange craving for popcorn. She'd had it for days, but hadn't had the opportunity to do anything about it yet. She tried turning over, but it didn't help. She sighed.

"Eh. Stuff it."

She gave up the losing game of sleep and padded out into the kitchen to indulge her craving and go over her lines as Linda English, the naive stenographer, in the revival of Pal Joey. A part she might have played herself in real life if she hadn't dropped the notion of going to secretary school. Perhaps it was a sign that the character's last name was "English". She tried to be quiet as she put a pot on the stove, fished the kernels out of the pantry and dove into the Rogers and Hart.

When popcorn gradually started happening, she realized that it was a bad choice snack to make in the middle of the night. It got pretty noisy in the quiet house. Peggy slept a few doors down, but Angie had noticed how she left her bedroom door slightly ajar, presumably because she was being protective and watchful. She had told Angie that she was a pretty light sleeper since the war. Angie pulled the popcorn pot off the ring and considered closing the door so as not to wake her, when a loud noise startled her.

She just about caught a glimpse of Peggy running toward her at breakneck speed, in her robe, bare footed and with gun metal glinting in her hand, before being tackled to the kitchen floor. The landing was soft under the circumstances, since even the kitchen impractically had extravagant lush carpeting on the floor.

Angie looked up and saw Agent Carter, not her friend Peggy. She understood now why the other SSR agents had seemed afraid when they were looking for her at The Griffith. This woman, using her body as a shield, limbs singing with muscle tone while she scanned the room for potential threats must be a fierce enemy. The protectiveness, lightning fast reaction and the considerately placed hand behind her head to protect her as she hit the floor made Angie's pulse race. And then there was the realization of how strong Peggy actually was, how dangerous she had looked when she came running. It was furiously arousing. Angie was so turned on she could hardly breathe, by the display and by the proximity to her.

Angie used to be confused about Peggy Carter. She had been drawn to her from the first moment she walked into the Automat, but why had eluded her. At first... She used to amuse herself by considering if she would let any of the men who came in the diner kiss her, or even go further. Or if any of them looked like husband material. Rarely if ever was the answer yes.

When Peggy started coming in, they faded into the background. Angie couldn't remember the last time she had looked at a man. But Peggy? She couldn't stop looking. It was more than enjoying her company. Last night, Peggy had come out of her room to ask her something, wearing only her modest black silk camisole. Angie hadn't been able to stop staring at how that perfectly decent garment still managed to hug Peggy in all the right places.
She wasn't totally clueless about her emotions, you couldn't be if you wanted to be a Broadway actress. She knew she teetered dangerously between friendship and a crush. Or a "pash" as Peggy might adorably have called it in her gorgeous, crisp accent. Angie found everything the strong, competent, dangerous Peggy Carter did adorable, which was ridiculous, if you thought about it. But she tried to put it out of her mind, afraid of ruining the great thing they had going.

Unfortunately, Angie wasn't confused anymore. The warm curves and those damn pouty, kissable lips so close to her own had gone straight to her sex, her heart and her flushed cheeks. She felt her mouth go dry as she glanced down at Peggy's full breasts under her undone robe. She knew what it was now. Lust. She even suspected it might be love. She was lucky a woman's arousal was subtle, or Peggy would have felt a raging erection pressing against those gloriously feminine hips right now.

"Angie, are you alright? I heard a gunshot?"

"Popcorn."

"What?"

Angie used her head, the only part of her body Peggy's vice like grip allowed her to move to indicate the pot, lid slightly askew, showing its contents.

"Bloody hell... I'm so sorry, Angie."

"Thank you."

Peggy frowned, looking down on her.

"For what?"

"Saving my life."

"From popcorn?"

"Could just as easy been a life or death thing. Dottie Underwood. You're somethin', English."

"I am something, yes. Paranoid, most likely."

But Peggy made no move to get up. As she relaxed against her, Angie had to make a conscious effort not to roll her hips and create more friction between them.

"Are you sure you're alright?"

Peggy started running her hands over her, checking for tenderness or injuries she might have caused. She had been trained in reading people during the war and had excelled at it. But she couldn't make sense of the look on Angie's face right now.

"Ain't never felt so safe in my life, English."

Peggy was acutely aware of her own body, pressing Angie into the lush carpet. Since Steve's death, it had been nothing but one of the many weapons in her arsenal. But then she met Angie, with her soft, kind eyes and restless, bubbly energy and was caught off guard. The sudden craving for human contact Angie induced caught her off guard too. It was most unlike her. And now here they were and Peggy couldn't bring herself to roll over and off of her. Normally, Angie made her feel light. Now she felt heavy and overheated.

To raise her head and kiss Peggy on the lips had been an impulse. Angie wasn't even sure it was completely her fault, Peggy had moved a fraction of an inch, just enough for a peck on the cheek to become a full on kiss, if very light.

"You're pretty hot stuff, Agent Carter."

Angie couldn't help herself, she had to do it again.

"For saving my life."

Angie tried to keep her voice neutral, waiting for Peggy's reaction, terrified that she had crossed a line and upset her. She knew she had lingered too long the second time.

Peggy froze. She was shocked at how badly she wanted to return the kiss. Sure, she had noticed how pretty Angie was, she wasn't blind. There had been an incident during the war, with a very attractive Canadian nurse... so it wasn't as if she had never thought of a woman like that. But this craving? Before Steve, she had occasionally invited someone to her bed, damn the consequences. But she no longer had "not expecting to survive the war" as an excuse for reckless behaviour. For Angie's protection, she should return to her room and pretend none of this had happened; crossing this line with her only friend was asking for trouble. But she felt desperately alive. Angie's skin burned her even through the silk of her robe and cotton of Angie's.

Angie felt the change in Peggy as she gave in to temptation. She felt her warm breath on her lips and surged up to meet her. As she slid her hands over Peggy's shoulders, she felt the rippling muscle beneath the satin. She hid her strength so well in those well-tailored suits. Involuntarily, her hand landed on the slope of Peggy's lower back, drawing her closer. Peggy would have no illusions about what she wanted from her by now.

Peggy deepened the kiss: her warm agile tongue slid along Angie's lower lip and she sucked gently on the tip of it, groaning at the sensation. Peggy's hand went to the back of her neck, her nails scratching softly along the hairline, giving Angie goosebumps.

"Am I too heavy?"

Angie smiled softly and shook her head at the whisper against her lips. She never wanted to be without the delicious warm weight on top of her again.

"Don't move."

If they moved, the spell might be broken and she couldn't bear the thought. She grabbed the hem of Peggy's robe, pulling her back down. She moaned when their lips met again. Peggy was such a great kisser: Angie wasn't altogether certain that she would need more than Peggy's lips and tongue, warm body and the scent of her skin in her nostrils to come.

Peggy's breath caught when she pulled Angie's robe off of her shoulder and realised that she wasn't wearing a bra. In fact, she wasn't wearing anything at all. Peggy had spent a war among men which didn't make walking around naked an option. She trailed her fingers along the exposed collarbone and down along the sternum, listening to Angie's increasingly laboured breath.

"Should I stop?"

"Don't you dare."

When Angie's first boyfriend had kissed her neck, she used to break down in fits of giggles, tickled by his attempts at growing a moustache and awkward overuse of saliva. It usually ended with her asking him to stop. But when Peggy's warm lips moved down the column of her neck, she pulled her closer and begged her not to. Stop… She was leaving faint red lipstick marks on the side of her breast now. Angie cried out as her lips closed around her nipple and arched up to meet her. The robe slipped off the other shoulder too, leaving Angie more or less naked from the waist up. She adored how Peggy looked at her. She tugged at Peggy's robe.

"Off."

She was a woman of few words for the first time in her life. The black and crimson robe slid off of Peggy's shoulder and revealed more silk: a lovely, expensive looking bra that just barely managed to constrain Peggy's spectacular cleavage. The sight made Angie's impatient hands not quite obey her when she tried to get it off of her strong shoulders. With a pang of jealously, she wondered if it was a gift from a lover. Howard? Silk underwear seemed too extravagant for a soldier. When it slid to the floor, she didn't even bother to pretend she wasn't staring, drinking every detail in. Peggy's rosy nipples were lighter than Angie had expected from her gorgeous dark coloring. She groaned softly as she cupped a full breast and Peggy kissed her hotly in return. Peggy naked was everything the suits and straight seamed stockings had whispered to Angie.

The silk of Peggy's knickers scratched deliciously against her sex at the smallest movement. She spread her legs to increase the friction and Peggy took the hint. Slowly, the material dragged over her wet folds and Angie moaned into Peggy's mouth. She wasn't sure for how long they kissed, but Peggy kept moving against her, driving her crazy and Angie kept pulling her closer, craving as much of Peggy's skin against her own as possible. She felt so close, she was trembling, ready to beg for the slightest increase in urgency or pressure to bring her over the edge. At the same time, she never wanted the sensation to end.

Peggy slid a tentative hand down between them and Angie almost sobbed in response. Sensing how close she was, Peggy looked intently at her as she adjusted her movement to the right amount of pressure, moving her hand in tiny circles to turn her into a panting, moaning mess just before she fell over the edge, clinging to the woman on top of her.

When Peggy finally did roll off her, Angie made a disappointed noise. She looked so beautiful just after coming, all flushed cheeks, messy hair and kiss swollen lips, Peggy had to lean back in and kiss her again. Her body was screaming at her to seek release, but she didn't want to make any assumptions about Angie reciprocating.

"Gee, Peg. You are sure are soft and hard in all the right places."

Angie's soft whisper in her ear gave her goosebumps. She made Peggy feel soft in another place too, a place that had been cold and hard for a long time. But it was far too early to talk about that. Whatever this was, this crazy risk they were taking, it was far too lovely to complicate yet.

A warm hand snaked past the waistband of her now decidedly messy silk underwear, pushing them down her hips. Peggy made a mental note to ask Angie if she had done this before. She seemed so comfortable touching her, like there was nothing strange or shocking in this sudden transformation from friends to lovers. The silk knickers ended up on the floor in a stained pile. Angie obsessively kissed every inch of naked skin she passed, moving down her body. Peggy couldn't remember having such an extreme physical reaction, like months of pent up desire was finally being released. Her body seemed to have craved Angie like this before her mind had a chance to catch up. Peggy's groans became louder as her tongue swirled around her areola followed by warm lips around a nipple already so erect it almost hurt when Angie took it in her mouth. When Angie laid down between her thighs, Peggy gasped. It had been so long and Angie's fire made her own body burn in kind.

When Angie was a girl, her cousin had had a pile of magazines, the kind a good girl should definitely not be reading. She remembered the picture of a woman lying between the thighs of another one who had her head thrown back against the pillow in ecstasy. She hadn't been sure what they were doing, she had been very young. She knew now. The image flashed in her mind as she kissed her way down Peggy's body. She wanted to do it to her. Desperately. She probably had since the first moment she saw her.

Tentatively, she touched her gently with the tips of her fingers. Why hadn't anyone told her that feeling a girl being wet for you would be more exciting than all the eager kisses from boys in the world?

Woman. She corrected herself silently in her head. Peggy was most decidedly a woman.

She pressed her lips against Peggy's sex and felt the impatient body squirm underneath her. An encouraging hand on the back of her neck urged her to feed the greed as the tip of her tongue touched the silky folds. The fear of not being good at it only lasted a few seconds, until Peggy's gentle groaning told her she was. It was so soft. Going down on a woman was the softest thing... It drove her crazy. Nothing in her cousin's dirty magazines had prepared her for what it would feel like in real life, how it would be an attack on all her senses. She took note of every moan, every breath and every subtle motion of Peggy underneath her lips and tongue as she became increasingly self-assured. She hoped this would be the audition and call back for a repeat performance.

As Peggy climaxed, Angie felt her sticky arousal cover her lips. It was easily the hottest thing she had experienced and well worth the kink in her neck from the unaccustomed position and her aching jaw. She looked at Peggy's flushed cheeks and parted lips and thought that there would be no Broadway applause that could beat the euphoria she felt at being the cause of that look on her face. Post coital bliss was beautiful on Peggy Carter.

"That rude man at the Automat was wrong. Your mouth is one of your best features."

Angie smiled proudly or "smugly" as Peggy would later refer to it. But she was still hungry. Peggy was too, it seemed, as she only needed seconds to recover before seeking Angie's lips out again. As they moved together, Angie could hear how wet they were, how there was almost no friction left between them. It occurred to her that they were still on the floor, in a huge house filled with delightfully comfortable beds.

"Bedroom?"

Peggy nodded as Angie pulled her up off the floor and backed toward her room. Their lips were in constant touch. Fumbling in the dark, Angie turned the nightlight on to look at Peggy naked in the warm glow. Peggy smiled at the faint trace of lipstick on Angie's breast, one of her signature shades. Angie shivered as she traced it with the tips of her fingers, brushing a hard nipple.

She made Peggy sit on the edge of the bed before she straddled her, leaving just enough room between them for Peggy's hand and to show her what she wanted. She threw her head back and gasped when Peggy pushed two fingers inside of her. She ground down on the heel of her hand to soothe the ache it was causing. Peggy took the hint and added a third finger. Angie kissed Peggy hard, stifling her moaning against her mouth when she came. Exhausted, she rested for a few seconds in Peggy's arms, calming her racing heart.

She made Peggy lie back on the huge, soft bed. She had made sure this room hadn't been used for any of Howard Stark's recreational activities, there was a master bedroom for that. She didn't want to imagine any other woman naked against the thick fabric of the ivory comforter than Peggy. As she lay down, she could feel how wet Peggy was against her thigh, her arousal covering Angie's skin. There were no silk underwear between them this time, just her warm folds against Peggy's. She could see the pulse race on the side of her neck as she moved slowly, creating as much friction as she could between their slick bodies, foregoing her own satisfaction to focus on Peggy's pleasure. Peggy crossed her legs in the small of Angie's back and drew her closer, moving her hips together with Angie, their moans mixing and mingling in the quiet of the room. She waited for that moment again, when her lover went perfectly still for a few moments before climax. When it happened, Peggy clung to her so hard she thought it might leave marks. Angie smiled against her shoulder as they calmed down together. She liked the idea of visible proof that she was Peggy Carter's lover. She just wished she could have shown them to the arrogant cads at the Automat who leered at Peggy, undressed her in their heads until she warned them with her eyes that they would be sorry if they didn't look away. Angie had secretly felt a little like them, looking at Peggy with the same desire in her eyes. But she wasn't. She was the one with staring rights. Sleepily, Peggy kissed the crown of her head.

"You're lovely."

Peggy's words made her feel like she had a liquid core, like her chest was filled with warm, sweet treacle.

"You're not so bad yourself."

Angie could hear herself, how lovesick she sounded. But she couldn't bring herself to care.

"I guess it wasn't men above the first floor that Mrs. Fry should have worried about?"

Peggy made a funny snorting noise and they broke down laughing, imagining the look on Miriam Fry's face if she could see them now.

"Miss Carter! I WORRY about you!"

"Oh Angie… You belong on Broadway."

Peggy… Her biggest fan. She rewarded her with a long, slow kiss. Her body was still humming with satisfaction as she folded herself back into Peggy's strong, comforting arms.

"Pegs…?"

"Mmhmm?"

"How come an ex-soldier owns so much silk underwear?"

She was an idiot for asking. What if Peggy said Howard Stark? Or worse, Steve? She couldn't compete with Captain America and she certainly couldn't afford to buy anyone silk underwear with her waitressing pay. She had been Peggy's lover for a few hours and already she was jealous.

"I was… rather down after the war. I lacked a sense of purpose and with Steve gone… When I came to America, you could buy things I hadn't seen in years, let alone owned. There's not a whole lot to spend your money on during the war, so I tried to cheer myself up by buying something frivolous and hideously expensive. Didn't work particularly well, but I do like how they make me feel."

"I like the way they made me feel too."

Angie grinned wickedly at the memory of the material against her softest parts and from the fact that the choice of underwear had nothing to do with Peggy's previous lovers.

"I'm glad I got my money's worth." Peggy said wryly.

Peggy kissed her shoulder and sighed deeply. Angie stiffened. She could feel that whatever was coming wasn't banter about silk underwear.

"Angie… Will you do something for me?"

"Anything."

She turned around in Peggy's arms and looked at her with steely resolve.

"Just don't ask me to pretend I'm not sweet on you. 'Cause I won't and I'm not that good an actress."

Peggy nodded, still serious, but Angie's stomach flooded with relief. That wasn't what Peggy had been meaning to ask her.

"Promise me you'll be careful? I know I must seem paranoid, but there are very real dangers out there, Ange. And they might follow me here. I can't bear the thought of putting you in harm's way."

It was Angie's turn to be serious.

"I promise. I'm pretty sure you wouldn't have tackled me like a pro wrestler if you didn't have your reasons. Even though I'm kinda grateful you did."

Telling Angie what she did for a living was a huge risk. But Peggy simply couldn't live with herself if something happened to her. She would have considered Angie more than just a friend even if they hadn't slept together. Even though it was doubtful if they had ever truly been "just friends" considering how easily they had transitioned to lovers. If knowing what Peggy did could make trusting Angie a little more paranoid, just enough to survive if the worst should happen, it was well worth it.

They fell asleep wrapped around each other. Angie needed the reassurance that Peggy wouldn't change her mind and leave and Peggy needed to know that Angie was safe, even if that meant having her arms around her constantly.

Angie had forgotten to set her alarm, but woke up in good time for her audition, sun warming her face. It was just after dawn. She reached after Peggy, but instead there was a note saying "Work. Back soon." and a red flower from the arrangement on the dining room table. Jarvis had insisted on the florist coming at least once a week and Peggy had given in, knowing that Angie loved flowers.

She was disappointed that she didn't get to wake up in Peggy's arms, but grateful that she had realized that she would have jumped to conclusions if she left without a message. Body still sated and humming with satisfaction, she walked out into the kitchen and smiled when she saw the abandoned popcorn. One of the best ideas she ever had.

She put the red flower in her buttonhole. As she was leaving she saw one of Peggy's scarves and stopped to press it to her nose to breathe her scent in. The weather didn't warrant a scarf, but Angie put it on anyway. Whatever this day would bring, she knew having Peggy's scent on her would make it better.

The audition went so well she was asked to come back and read again with the already cast male lead. She just about managed to hide her surprise when the director told her. Not jumping up and down with joy and screaming was probably a better test of her acting skills than the Rogers and Hart. She couldn't wait to tell Peggy.

But Peggy didn't come home soon, like the note said. Angie's elation changed gradually to a creeping sense of worry. But she tried to keep it under control. She had no clue what they were or what this was. Was this just a fling? Were they an item now? If she was going to be with Peggy, this was what her life would be like, she knew that. Could she live like this, constantly worrying? The answer was yes. Peggy was worth it, even though she hated how she felt right now.

Last night had been wonderful. In fact, it might have been the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to her. So if yesterday was all she got, that didn't change the fact that it had been wonderful. And if Peggy was willing to offer her more, then she had to work on living in the moment, instead of fretting over where Peggy's next assignment might lead her or if she would get hurt or killed at some point in the future. She promised herself not to obsess about tomorrow. Because today was wonderful. And that's all anyone could ask.

She poured herself a peach schnapps, a drink Mr. Jarvis had added to the liquor cabinet with consummate professionalism while failing miserably at hiding that he found the concept revolting. She ran her finger along a bottle of Peggy's favorite bourbon and smiled. Her girl sure could drink like one of the boys.

It was closer to midnight when Peggy came home, limping up the stairs, exhausted. Her boots were silent on the carpeting as she tried to sneak in, not sure if Angie was asleep or not. She stopped as she saw her in the kitchen, leaning against the counter reading a script and absentmindedly holding a glass of that horrid sugary concoction that Angie inexplicably loved. There were no pins in her hair and it tumbled loosely down her shoulders. She was crooning the first bars of "Is you is or is you ain't my baby" softly to herself.

She slapped a hand over her mouth in dismay as she saw the state of Peggy.

"God Peg, you're hurt!"

Peggy had the realisation that it was Angie that made this place her home, not the fact that she had hung her favourite hat in the rather magnificent hallway. Angie warmed these elegant but stiff and impersonal rooms by simply being here. Being there for Peggy. She was wearing the same robe as last night, falling open at the neck to show a faint mark on her skin that Peggy realised she must have left there. The throbbing in the shallow gash on her thigh was exchanged for another, deep in her stomach and lower. She wasn't tired anymore as she followed Angie's exposed collar bone and traveled up her delicate neck with her eyes. She was dirty, sweaty and had blood all over the right leg of the dark overalls she had needed to follow a reluctant Thompson on what turned out to be a wild goose chase. But she was pretty sure Angie wouldn't care.

"It's a scratch."

Peggy waved her concerns off, sounding almost impatient, like Angie had mentioned something trivial. She carefully took the glass out of her hand, placed it on the kitchen table along with her script and yanked her up on the kitchen counter. She put herself firmly between her legs and pushed the flimsy robe up her legs, leaving her flushed, horny and breathless.

"You're really strong, Peg."

"How was the audition?"

Peggy's breath smelled faintly of bourbon against her lips.

Angie had to make an effort to remember.

"Great. I got a call back."

"That's wonderful, darling. Now stop talking and kiss me."

It was both Peggy and Agent Carter speaking and Angie became hot and breathless for both versions. So she did.

Tomorrow could wait.