Author's note – so this has been on my laptop for a while and as I recently decided to rewatch season 1 I found inspiration again so I finished it. I took the name from Peggy's signature lipstick and thought it appropriate for this fic. It is set a few months after Dooley's death and Peggy hasn't' been allowed back into the Griffith. Please leave a review as it makes me very happy. Enjoy!
Peggy Carter was unlike anyone Jack Thompson had ever met. From their rare meetings in the corridor of their apartment building he had noted two things about her: she was intelligent and she was defensive. Not that that was a bad thing it just made Jack more...curious. Curiosity killed the cat he thought to himself one night after bumping into her on the landing (literally). He was having a nightcap of bourban and, having had no time to shop, had stopped off at the automat for dinner. This ended up being a bad idea as Jack was now feeling slightly sick yet this didn't seem to bother him. He was ill most of the time, due to stress he thought, being Chief of the SSR wasn't exactly easy. Ever since Dooley died he'd been different: drinking more, sleeping less - he knew it was a problem. But Peggy, well, she was different. She helped him forget (without alcohol) and she comforted him. What's more, she did this without knowing. She didn't speak to Jack much but knowing that she was there helped him a lot. In fact, he was sure that he would be invisible to her if she didn't live next to him.
She was a mystery to him; one that needed solving. Whatever she did there was always something else - some underlying emotion or cause behind her sudden outbursts. She was passionate - he liked that - and she was selflesss, a quality rare in most SSR agents. All this only furthered his intrigue into her and soon he was sure he had become obsessed. Not obsessed romantically, or if it had become romantic he was yet to admit it to himself, it was more...puzzling. She was complex yet simple, plain yet stunning and quiet yet loud, all Jack had found you had to do was listen. He listened a lot nowadays, even if she wasn't talking he was able to read her face; study her emotions and guess how to react. She herself had noticed how prepared he was for her usually sudden outbursts and overlooked ideas and that puzzled her. It seemed both thought the other more complicated than themselves.
He sat on his sofa, bourban in hand, and flicked over channels on the radio. When he discovered that there was nothing informative on, he listened to the static. This helped him to calm down; to unwind after a particularly rough day at the office. Slowly he let his mind drift away, deep in thoughts of the mystery that is Peggy Carter. He found himself thinking of her, in that damn skirt. He thought of her classic red lipstick and her hair, curled in a way he couldn't work out. Next he thought of her eyes, soft and brown, almost doe like.
It was a knock at the door that roused him from his thoughts. Slowly he raised himself from the sofa and walked to the door. Looking through the peephole he saw her: the girl on his mind. She was waiting for him on the other side of the door. Just 2 inches of wood was all that separated him and her. He thought about pretending he wasn't home but he pushed it out of his mind immediately. He couldn't lie to her. He unlocked the door and faced her. He tried to get a read on her: her make up was fresh and her lips newly lined. Her appearance screamed independence yet her eyes cried out for help. She stood there helpless in front of him. He too was helpless. A moment passed before he took a step back, letting her in. She walked with purpose yet she looked lost. He turned to look at her after closing the door. Without thinking he walked towards her and enclosed her in his arms. He didn't retreat when she rested her head on his chest. He didn't retreat when he felt her arms slowly wrap around his torso. He didn't retreat when he felt the first sob rack through her body, nor when he felt her tears seep through his shirt. But most of all he didn't retreat when she looked up at him, her big chestnut-coloured eyes locking with his. It seemed that for a moment he had lost all sense and he wondered if he had gone crazy. Later on he would look back and not regret anything yet at the time it felt wrong. He felt his lips drawn closer to hers and he noticed the gap between them lessen with each passing second. Suddenly their lips collided with such a force he could've sworn he felt electricity running down his spine. Though their moment was intense it wasn't unfulfilled sexual desire that led their actions but the want to forget. To forget about Chief Dooley. To forget about their own miserable existences. To forget about Steve. To forget their individual loneliness. It wasn't desire that fuelled their passion. They didn't desire to think of the future – individually or together. They didn't desire to worry about the past either.
All they wanted was comfort and for now all they wanted was each other.