This fic has a sibling called Starry Sky. laserquestlove wrote a fic using the same beginning and ending line. Go read it!
XXXAngie Martinelli gazed at the sky through the windows of the study, confident she'd never seen a lovelier shade of blue. It was unfortunate she couldn't actually bring herself to enjoy it as the sun slowly began to set and orange flared into the heady cobalt splashed across the skyline. Her heart sank, thinking of Peggy Carter and the mission that'd taken her away for the past five months.
She fingered the dog tags - Peggy's old ones from the war - that she'd taken to wearing ever since she'd found them tucked away in Peggy's top drawer when she had put away her laundry.
Perhaps it wouldn't have been so difficult if they hadn't come to an understanding only a month before Peggy deployed. Even though they had known each other for almost a year, their new dynamic brought change. However, some things remained the same. Coming home from work, eating dinner, retiring to the study to sit on the couch and read or catch up with each other's day. Those remained unchanged. The primary difference now was when they went upstairs to retire for the night, Angie followed Peggy to her bedroom. Whereas goodnight was once said at the top of the stairs, it was now almost always uttered after a heady spell of caresses, eager moans, soft gasps, and contented sighs.
Angie was delighted with the new routine. She'd only wished they'd had longer to learn it better before Peggy left. Still, she faithfully wrote Peggy every week, although Angie was unsure if Peggy received her letters. That was the hardest part. Peggy had been gone for almost five months now, and during that time, Angie had only received two letters and one phone call, and even those had been brief. The letters, while well-intentioned, were filled with vague generalities. They contained nothing concrete and indeed not anything that could give away Peggy's location if intercepted.
The phone call had lasted all of 90 seconds. The tinny, crackling sound on the other end of the line had buzzed in her ear, and it sounded like someone was eating a box of Cracker Jacks into the receiver. Angie could've sworn she heard sultry jazz music in the background, which didn't help her mood. She'd just managed to get out a rushed "I miss you, Pegs," when a commotion sounded in the background, which had resulted in Peggy barking out a frustrated "I'm sorry, Angie. I have to go."
"But you just called!"
"I'm sorry, but I have to go."
"I love you, Peg–" but the line was dead, and Peggy was gone. That had been two-and-a-half months ago.
Always the optimist, Angie tried to remind herself that if Peggy were in the field again, she might not have access to mail or a phone, but the small voice inside her head worried. Had she finally found Peggy only to lose her so quickly?
As Angie recalled all of these things, she knew Peggy would want her to be happy and would scold her for moping – especially over her – but frankly, Angie didn't care.
Reaching over, she grabbed the bottle of bourbon and poured herself another double before knocking it back in one long swig. Angie glanced at the bottle. When she'd snagged it from Peggy's private stash earlier that afternoon, it'd been full. Peggy would probably be upset at the theft, but Angie was beyond caring. If Peggy didn't want her drinking it, she should've been there to say something.
Now the bottle was three-quarters of the way gone, and only a few inches remained of the amber liquid. Angie had a mind to finish it and leave the empty bottle on Peggy's vanity for her to find when she finally returned. A cold shudder passed through Angie.
If she returned.
And therein lay the crux of Angie's frustration. She was worried. Peggy had never gone this long without communicating with her. Angie couldn't help the fears that raced through her mind every night when she closed her eyes, laying alone in the bed she'd shared with Peggy during the month before she left.
If only they'd had more time together before Peggy had been deployed, perhaps she wouldn't be so insecure. Angie barked a bitter laugh. Who was she kidding? They could've been together for five years before Peggy left, and Angie would still feel this way. It wasn't rational. Angie knew Peggy could take care of herself. Peggy had proven that time and time again. Still, Angie also knew Peggy relished the affection Angie lavished upon her, the tender care Angie had always shown, even when they were only friends at the Griffith. It pained Angie to think of Peggy halfway across the world, possibly hurting, alone, with no one to lean on or take care of her.
She grabbed the bourbon and poured another glass, a full one this time, emptying the bottle before staring out the window again. The blue slowly faded from the sky, replaced with a sensuous pink as dusk fell over New York City. Angie sipped slowly and gazed out over the city, eyes trailing to watch the bustling pedestrians below.
It would be dark soon, but the city wouldn't be any less active. That was the one thing she could count on about New York City. It was alive twenty-four hours a day. One person's day job led into another person's night shift, something Angie knew all too well as she'd taken to covering some of the girls' late shifts at the L&L. She didn't need to, but it helped pass the time and keep her mind off the empty penthouse she came home to every day.
Draining the glass, Angie moved to the kitchen and washed it out before placing it back in the cabinet. Trudging back to the study, she retrieved the empty bottle from the desk and took it by the neck, letting it hang loosely by her side as she slowly walked up the stairs to the second floor. She didn't care that it was only eight o'clock. She was going to bed.
When Angie reached her and Peggy's room, she eyed the vanity. Briefly, she considered following through with leaving the bottle for Peggy to find, but then she shook her head in disgust. It was childish.
"It's not her fault," she murmured aloud even as her heart screamed, "Peggy left you! Peggy left you!"
Placing the bottle on her own nightstand, she disappeared into the bathroom. When she emerged a short while later, she was dressed for bed, face scrubbed, hair pinned back, and nursing a severe headache that had already made its way to her head. Served her right, drinking so much liquor on an empty stomach.
Crawling into bed, she closed her eyes and tried to think of anything other than Peggy laying somewhere wounded or worse. Angie shook her head. She couldn't afford to have thoughts like that. She'd drive herself crazy if she kept thinking like that. She took a deep breath and curled her fingers around the dog tags.
Peggy was fine. She had to be.
Angie vaguely realized she'd probably have a massive hangover tomorrow as her mind slowed and limbs grew heavy. Her last thought before drifting to sleep was that it hadn't even been worth it.
XXX
Peggy Carter opened the door to a quiet house, thankful to finally be home. It was almost midnight, so it didn't surprise her that Angie wasn't downstairs to hear her return.
Three flights spanning 36 hours had left her exhausted. All Peggy wanted to do was strip her clothes off and crawl into bed alongside the woman she hadn't seen in five months. The woman who she desperately missed. Shrugging out of her jacket, she quietly crept up the stairs, careful to mask her footfalls and not wake Angie. Peggy knew she should've probably called to inform Angie of her return, but between packing her bags and darting across several bases to catch flights back home, she'd run out of time. Plus, the romantic side of her relished the idea of surprising the woman she loved, even though the practical side informed her that after five months away with little communication, surprising Angie might not be the best idea.
When she reached their room, she immediately saw Angie curled up in their bed. Their bed. It was still a novel concept for her. Softly padding over to her, Peggy tenderly gazed at Angie's sleeping form. God, how she'd missed Angie. Her smile. Her infectious enthusiasm for life. Her tender touch that turned from teasing to torturous and reduced Peggy to a quivering mass with a few well-placed caresses.
She felt a familiar heat pool inside her and briefly considered waking Angie up for a proper reunion but quickly decided against it. She was so exhausted. Retreating to the bathroom instead, she shed her clothes, splashed cool water on her face, and pulled on her nightgown, which was still hanging behind the bathroom door. Returning to their bed, Peggy slipped in and sighed as the cool sheets slid along her bare legs. It felt so good to be home.
Almost as if by instinct, Angie rolled over and snuggled into her side. Peggy's heart tightened, and she slipped her arms around Angie's waist, burying her nose into the soft, sweet curls she'd dreamt about for so long. Her nose twitched when the familiar scent of bourbon invaded her senses, and she pulled back to gaze at Angie with concern.
Bourbon.
Angie never drank bourbon unless she was upset.
Leaning over, Peggy flipped on the bedside lamp on her nightstand. Soft light illuminated the room, and her eyes immediately landed on the empty bottle of her prize bourbon glaring at her from Angie's nightstand.
Narrowing her eyes, Peggy glanced at the bottle, then to Angie, and back at the bottle again.
That had been very expensive bourbon. Bourbon she'd been saving for a special occasion. What's more, Angie knew that because Peggy distinctly remembered telling her when she'd initially stowed the bottle there. The fact that Angie had made the calculated decision to drink it told Peggy far more than Angie's words ever could.
She turned back to survey Angie with a heavy heart. Only then she noticed the familiar chain and battered metal tags that hung around Angie's neck.
Her dog tags.
"Oh, my darling," Peggy whispered. A note of pain threaded through her voice. "I fear I've hurt you far more than I realised."
Peggy felt Angie shift in her arms before she tilted her head to blink sleep-filled eyes at her.
"Peggy?" Angie murmured, and Peggy could hear the disbelief in her voice. "Am I dreaming?"
Peggy raised a gentle hand to Angie's cheek and leaned in to place a soft kiss against her dry lips. "No, darling. You're not dreaming. I'm here."
Angie blinked a few times, and then her arms were around Peggy's neck, hugging her tightly.
"Oh my God, Peggy!" she exclaimed, the words muffled against Peggy's skin. She pulled back to stare, and Peggy smiled warmly at her. Angie was here, in her arms, and looking at her like she never wanted to let her go.
Therefore, it came as a bit of shock when Angie landed a hard slap against her cheek a moment later.
"Jesus Christ, Angie!" she yelped, a hand immediately coming up to cover her stinging skin.
"You could at least give a little bit of warning," she grumbled.
Angie's eyes narrowed. "Like you gave me?"
Peggy had the good grace to look away sheepishly.
"Two letters and one phone call, Peggy," Angie continued. "One. If you can even call 90 seconds a conversation."
"I know, Angie, and I'm terribly sorry."
"I drank a whole bottle of bourbon because of you," Angie grumbled.
Peggy bit her lower lip and tried to contain her laughter. "I know that, too."
"And I'm going to have a helluva hangover tomorrow."
"That's my fault, too, yes?"
"Damn right it is."
At that, Peggy laughed. "What if I promise to make it up to you tomorrow night when you're feeling better?"
Angie glanced at her, and Peggy could see the anger slowly ebb from her features.
"What'd you have in mind?" she cautiously ventured.
Slipping her hand from Angie's waist, Peggy trailed it upwards until her fingers closed over a breast. She was rewarded with Angie's eyes sliding shut as a soft moan escaped her lips.
"I was thinking of showing you how much I missed you," Peggy murmured.
"That's a good start," Angie sighed.
"It will probably take several hours."
"Mmm. Sounding better and better."
Peggy peered down at Angie and smiled hopefully. "Does this mean you won't slap me again?"
There was a moment of silence.
"I'll think about it."
"Fair enough," Peggy chuckled as she pulled Angie closer. "I truly did miss you, darling," she said, dropping a kiss against Angie's soft curls.
"I missed you, too," she quietly murmured before stillness descended again.
They lay there in the quiet of the night for several minutes before Peggy felt Angie stir.
"Peggy?" she mumbled.
"Yes?"
"We should go outside and look at the stars."
A chuckle escaped Peggy, and she looked down at her girlfriend with amused confusion. "It's almost one in the morning."
"But the stars are so pretty," Angie sighed before her head pressed heavily to the pillow once more.
Peggy's gaze traveled to the open window at the far end of the room, and she could see Angie was, indeed, correct. Shimmering specks of light danced across the New York City skyline, winking in and out of the few clouds that dotted the sky.
A smile bloomed across Peggy's face, and she pressed a tender kiss against the back of Angie's neck.
"They are, darling," she whispered. "But why don't you go back to sleep. We'll stargaze tomorrow evening, okay?"
Angie shifted closer to her and nodded. "' Kay. So tired." Lifting a finger toward the open window, she sighed contentedly. "So pretty."
Drawing Angie closer, Peggy smiled in agreement. The stars shimmered brightly, and the sense of peace that had eluded her for so many months finally settled arrived. She was home, and Angie was in her arms.
Peggy knew she'd get an earful in the morning when her girlfriend sobered up, and rightfully so, but she also knew she'd spend most of the day making up for her absence and then pass the remainder of the evening reminding Angie just how much she loved her. But for now, in the quiet of their bedroom, with the woman she loved safely ensconced in her embrace, Peggy Carter looked up at the night sky with her and marveled at its brilliance.