Outside the large mansion, the wind howled as raindrops pelted the brick exterior and glass windows, hitting the panes and trickling down to the ledges below. Inside the spacious living room, however, all was quiet, save the soft strains of jazz wafting from a radio in the corner.
Angie Martinelli shifted on the couch, instinctively snuggling closer to the warmth of the woman she’d been living with for the past two years, before returning her attention to the script in her hand. She’d gotten a sizeable role in Small Wonder, a new musical slated to open mid-September, and with previews only a few weeks away, she was going over last-minute rewrites and changes, committing the new lines to memory and humming the score as she did so.
A soft smile lifted the corners of her mouth when, like clockwork, Peggy adjusted to Angie’s new position, shuffling the papers in her hand and absentmindedly dropping a kiss on the top of Angie’s head which was now nestled against her shoulder.
“What’s got you so focused tonight?”
Peggy fiddled with the reading glasses that kept slipping down her nose and glanced over. “I’m reviewing some schematics for the briefing tomorrow. Nothing terribly exciting, I’m afraid, but necessary nonetheless.”
“Sounds riveting,” she giggled, borrowing one of Peggy’s favorite terms.
“Indeed,” she replied with a non-committal hum.
“Anything I should know about?” Angie asked. It wasn’t as if Peggy came home every night and dished about government secrets, but every so often, Angie would ask and Peggy would share.
“Terribly sorry, darling, I’m really not at liberty to discuss it, and I need to concentrate on these for just a little while longer.”
So sharing was out.
“How much longer?”
Peggy’s mouth curved into a smile, but she didn’t take her gaze away from the papers. “A half hour, at most, provided there are no more distractions.”
In response, Angie leaned up and planted a soft kiss against the side of Peggy’s neck. “Define distractions.”
“Peggy,” she echoed, her hand creeping beneath the blanket to rest upon the older woman’s thigh before giving it a gentle squeeze.
“Someone’s not playing fair.” The response was uttered in a low voice as Peggy’s eyes slowly slid closed, the papers in her hand dropping a few inches.
Angie’s lips trailed downward. “I thought you like it when I don’t play fair.”
Peggy swallowed thickly – a fact that didn’t escape Angie’s notice – but said nothing. If she really wanted to, Angie could easily distract her lover from the task at hand, but she also knew how seriously Peggy took her position as Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. It had been little over a year since Howard Stark had approached the former SSR agent with the idea of overseeing the government’s newest agency, and Peggy had leapt at the opportunity to build an organization from the ground up, hand picking her new team from various organizations scattered throughout the government and even bringing a few of her SSR colleagues – such as Daniel Sousa – along with her.
Peggy valued the men who worked for her, and they had experienced her leadership both at the office and in the field enough to respect her as Director. But Angie knew Peggy still occasionally fielded sexist comments from those outside S.H.I.E.L.D. causing the woman to diligently prepare for every briefing as if it were an invasion into Axis-controlled territory. And when it came down to it, if Angie had to choose between a little canoodling with her favorite gal and allowing said gal the time needed to feel confident in her work, Angie would always choose the latter.
“Oh all right, English. I’ll play nice for now,” she chuckled, settling back down against the couch. “Still, you can’t blame a girl for trying.
Peggy let out a sigh that sounded both relieved and disappointed and returned her gaze to the papers in her hand. Angie contemplated returning to her script, but truth be told, she was a little too wound up now to give it the attention it deserved.
Instead, she directed her focus to the stack of thin, clear plastic-like sheets of paper that lay by Peggy’s side – viewgraph sheets, Peg had called them. Angie had been fascinated when Peggy had first brought them home and explained that by using a special marker pen, a person could write on the sheets and then project the information on a screen. Even better, when the information was no longer needed, the sheets could simply be wiped clean and be reused at a later date. Since the first time her partner brought them home, Angie never wasted an opportunity to toy with the technology.
Leaning over, she casually sneaked a clear sheet from the stack and palmed Peggy’s extra marker pen, before sitting back against the arm of the couch.
“You do realize I saw that,” Peggy informed her, gaze never wavering from her annotations.
Angie shrugged. “You’d be an awfully lousy spy if you hadn’t.” She looked over for a response, but Peggy was once again engrossed in her notes, tapping the marker against her teeth and muttering about diagrams under her breath.
Pen in hand, Angie returned her attention to the sheet and began to doodle, sketching out a tiny dog with a collar and bowler hat, trailing random hearts along the edge of the paper and drawing angles and lines across the top of the page. She’d been doodling for a good fifteen minutes before she even realized her scrawls and scribbles had etched out a passable New York City skyline. She paused in surprise and looked over toward Peggy, eager to relay her newfound talent, but the words died on her lips when her gaze fell upon her girlfriend.
Peggy had the tip of the marker she’d been writing with firmly wedged between her teeth, red lips pursed, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as she lifted a page above her head and stared at the schematic she'd just drawn.
Angie’s lips split into a wide grin. For all her poise and British reserve, Peggy Carter could be utterly adorable, and Angie would be the first to admit she was completely smitten. She watched her partner for a few moments, warm emotion flooding through her as Peggy continued to study the schematic.
Angie blushed and glanced down at the paper in lap. “Well, if someone wasn’t being all charming with that pen hanging out of her mouth, I wouldn’t stare.”
Peggy bit down on her lower lip, and Angie swore she detected a faint trace of pink on the cheekbones she’d spent so many nights and lazy afternoons worshipping. “Ten more minutes, darling,” she promised. “And then I’m all yours.”
“I thought you already were,” Angie fired back cheekily.
“I believe the sentiment is mutual, is it not?” The retort was uttered with complete confidence, and Angie couldn’t argue with the observation. Nor did she want to. For all her teasing bravado, sometimes Angie still couldn’t believe she’d managed to land someone like Peggy Carter. But it certainly helped to hear Peggy voice the same reaction from time to time in regards to her.
She glanced back down at her drawing again. Without conscious thought, she penned “I love you, English,” across the center of the sheet in her flowing handwriting and then wrote the declaration over and over again across the page until no room remained. It might be silly, but it felt wonderful to declare her love for the woman sitting next to her, even if it was just writing that only she, and maybe Peggy, would read.
Laying the sheet down on the cushion between them, Angie reached down and retrieved her script. She probably wouldn’t retain much at this point, not when she was thinking about all the wonderful things she planned on doing to Peggy once that ten minutes expired, but she figured she should at least try to look occupied, lest she be caught mooning again.
The room grew quiet once more for a few minutes as the two women studied their respective work, but the peace was short-lived when a loud peal of thunder, accompanied a bright flash of lightning echoed through the room, shaking the floor, startling both women. Angie immediately let out a surprised shriek which, in turn, caused Peggy to jump, papers falling from her lap and hands and scattering across the floor. The two women stared at each other, rather sheepishly, for a moment before breaking into laughter.
“Honestly, Angie,” Peggy chuckled, shaking her head. “A grown woman shrieking like a little child.”
Angie playfully scowled and stuck her tongue between her teeth. “It was loud, Pegs. What’d you expect me to do?”
Peggy grinned, leaning down to gather up the papers before stuffing them into her work bag. “Obviously not that!”
“Yeah, well…” Angie had the good grace to blush. “Geez, for a spy, you sure are jumpy.”
“Director, darling, and previously Agent,” Peggy corrected her.
“Whatever,” Angie muttered, crossing her arms. “Still jumpy.”
Peggy rolled her eyes. “A few moments ago I was charming. What happened?”
Angie wrinkled her nose. “Well that was before Miss Charming decided to become Miss Chastising.”
“Ah, I see,” Peggy smirked and shifted slightly closer to Angie letting her hand flutter down until it rested atop the smaller woman’s hand. “I take it this means you’re not interested in pursuing our earlier conversation?”
Angie’s stomach gave a delicious flop and she scooted a few inches to her left, turning her hand over so her fingers could lace with Peggy’s. “I didn’t say that.” Closing the distance between them, Angie leaned into Peggy, her lips coming to rest along the underside of her jaw. “Matter of fact,” she murmured, “I’d be real interested in resuming our talk about distractions.”
Peggy sighed when Angie’s warm mouth began to slowly trail down her neck and when her teeth found the sensitive hollow near Peggy’s collarbone, the former Agent let out a low moan.
“I think we should take this conversation to our bedroom, darling.”
Angie raised her eyes to meet Peggy’s and gave her an impish grin. “Entirely too far away, English…”