Work Text:
It started with a sniffle.
She was sitting at her desk and felt that unpleasantly cold sensation of her nose beginning to drip.
Impossible.
Peggy Carter did not get sick. It just wasn’t something that ever happened. She was meticulous when it came to disinfecting her things and washing her hands, especially when those bouts of the flu came through the office like a plague.
Standing from her desk, she walked to the washroom to blow her nose.
Perhaps it was just a change in the weather. It had been a rather brisk morning.
That had to be it.
… Right?
She dismissed the very idea of being sick from her mind with a wave of her hand.
“Get it together, Agent. You don’t get sick. Haven’t since you were just a girl,” she told herself sternly in the mirror, touching up her lipstick. After an approving nod she returned to her desk, slipping her shoes off beneath it. She hummed at the soothing feeling of the cool floor through her stockings.
Her nose continued to betray her, that slow drip driving her madder than Chinese water torture.
Sousa stopped by her desk and dropped off his handkerchief, giving her a sympathetic smile.
I don’t need your sympathy. I am not unwell. I am fine, goddammit.
Peggy finished her paperwork with a final flourish of her pen. She slipped back into her shoes, cursing the clammy feeling of her palms.
A chill ran down her spine as she walked home.
This isn’t possible.
Peggy walked faster, eager to get home and lay down.
Yes, that’s all it is. I simply need to rest. I’ll be just fine in the morning.
She repeated this to herself as she had her nightly cup of tea.
Unfortunately for Agent Peggy Carter, she awoke feeling as though someone had poured cement into her head. She pulled her blankets tighter around her, feeling both freezing and as though she were being burned alive. She groaned, pressing her throbbing head further into her pillows.
Looks like she’d be skipping her morning pushups.
She shuffled downstairs, wrapped in a housecoat, sniffling sadly. She phoned her boss, apologizing for needing to stay home all the while cursing her lack of immunity to the virus invading every cell in her body.
Peggy shakily brewed herself some tea, opting to rest on the couch rather than suffer the daunting climb of the stairs to return to her bed.
She heard a shuffle up the stairs and prayed that Angie wouldn’t notice her sprawled out on the couch.
She couldn’t even find it in her to move to a more proper position.
Angie came down the stairs, heading straight for the kitchen. A vague smell of coffee wafted over to the agent and she was thankful for being able to smell something.
“English? What are you doing home?”
Damn.
“Erm,” she mumbled nasally. “I’m—“
“Aw, Peg. You’re sick.”
“I don’t get sick, Angie.”
“Then what do you call this?” she asked, raising a brow, her hands on her hips.
“A failure in human evolution.”
Peggy’s head fell back against the arm of the couch and she wiped her nose for what felt like the hundredth time that day.
“I’ll make you some breakfast.”
“I can do it, Angie.”
“Peg, you’re not sitting up like a good and proper lady, and you look a mess. No offense, I mean.”
Peggy shrugged, sighing.
“I’ll sit up if it’ll prove to you that I’m just fine.”
Angie just crossed her arms and stared at the stubborn woman on the couch.
“You haven’t showered, your hair is a disaster, I can hear your nose dripping from here, and you’re still gonna try to tell me you’re fine?”
A groan escaped Peggy’s lips. There was no way she could muster the energy to argue with her roommate.
“Alright, Peg. You wanna prove you’re not sick? Give me ten of your one-armed pushups and I’ll believe you.”
Peggy’s mouth fell open.
“I… I already did them upstairs. I’d hate to overwork my arms.”
“Mhmm. Alright. Give me three then. Three measly pushups. I’ll even let you use both your arms.”
Resolve made its way sluggishly up Peggy’s face. She cleared her throat and sat up, moving to the floor to do her pushups.
Angie stood back, leaning her hip on the doorframe as she watched the typically strong woman struggle to get into a solid position.
“I’m gonna stop you right there, Peg. You’re going to hurt yourself.”
“I am fine, Angie. And I am going to prove it to you,” she huffed.
She dropped for one pushup, feeling her arms shake. She ached all over as though she’d been beaten or done a hard workout. Or both.
She struggled through the second pushup, sweaty palms sliding on the wood floors. The muscles in her shoulders started to twitch, her brow creasing in determination.
Come on, Carter. Three pushups should be easy for you.
“Peggy, cut it out. You’re going to hurt yourself.”
“Let me wipe my nose and I’ll give you a third.”
Angie rolled her eyes and grabbed Peggy by her shoulders, pushing her to the couch.
“Enough, English. Just let me make you some breakfast. I’ll make soup for dinner. You need to rest.”
Peggy looked up at Angie and glared unconvincingly, looking more like a petulant child than a lethal, trained agent of the SSR.
Unfolding a big quilt, Angie tucked Peggy in on the couch, kissing her forehead sweetly. She secretly delighted in the flush that crept up Peggy’s cheeks.
“Don’t you have work today, Angie?”
“Nah. They gave me the day off.”
“Am I interrupting your plans?”
“Nope. I just planned to lounge a bit today.”
Peggy nodded, silently thanking whatever god allowed for her to have this time with her sweet roommate, Angie.
Breakfast tasted bland but the warm food felt good as it heated Peggy’s body.
Angie leaned down toward Peggy, their faces mere inches apart.
She brushed Peggy’s hair back from her forehead, leaning close to press her lips to Peggy’s fever-heated skin.
“You’re burning up, English,” she mumbled, dropping a quick kiss to the woman’s hairline.
Peggy’s cheeks were flushed, her fingers like ice as she grasped Angie’s hand.
“Why am I sick?”
Angie snorted.
“That’s a silly question.”
Peggy whined in response.
“You’ve probably just been working too hard, Peg,” Angie soothed, smoothing her warm thumb over Peggy’s frigid knuckles. “And things like the flu run rampant in offices. Especially when it’s all men. I don’t even think they know how to wash their hands.”
The warmth of Angie’s fingers spread through Peggy, sending tingles racing up her arm.
Closing her eyes, Peggy leaned back into the cushy pillows of the couch.
“I’ll wake you when dinner’s ready. You sleep,” Angie hummed quietly, squeezing Peggy’s hand. She gasped when she felt an insistent tug at her hand as she stood to leave.
“Please don’t go.”
Angie eyed the poor, disheveled, ill woman in front of her, bundled up to her neck in quilts.
The little sniffle that came from under the blankets broke Angie’s resolve and she slid next to Peggy on the couch.
To say there wasn’t much room would be an understatement.
Angie could feel every inch of Peggy’s heated body through the layers of blankets as she held the woman comfortingly, running her fingers through Peggy’s hair in an attempt to smooth it down.
The sigh of contentment felt like music to Angie’s ears as Peggy settled against her chest, her breathing slowing as she drifted to sleep.
“Peg? You awake?” Angie whispered, prodding the woman’s shoulder softly.
She continued to breathe slowly and evenly, not even budging.
“I… I know I should probably wait until you’re awake. Oh hell, I probably shouldn’t tell you this at all. But... I really like you, Peg. I like spending time with you. I look forward to coming home to you. I look forward to that annoyed little look you get when I tell you about the fellas who try to cop a feel. Makes me laugh, you know? You make me laugh a lot, Peg. I know you don’t think you’re funny but you are. Though we both know that between the two of us, I’m the true comedienne,” Angie grinned, trailing her fingertips up Peggy’s arm. “I just figured I should tell you. Maybe one day I’ll do it again when you’re not half-dead from the flu.”
She chuckled quietly, pressing her nose to Peggy’s hair, holding her just a bit tighter.
“Maybe one day we can be more than just live-in gal pals, you know?”
Peggy’s eyes fluttered open and she fought to keep her breathing slow, enjoying the calming lull of Angie’s voice.
“I know the times aren’t great for… Well, all of that. But I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather spend my time with.”
Spend forever with.
Angie cleared her throat, rolling her eyes a bit at the tears that started to gather at the edges of her vision.
“Alright,” she said a bit louder, sliding out from under her roommate. “Time for me to get dinner started.”
Peggy shut her eyes tightly, fighting the urge to cling to the front of Angie’s shirt and beg her not to go.
An hour passed and Peggy felt sleep wash over her.
A hand shook Peggy’s shoulder and she groaned, her head feeling thick and heavy, her vision cloudy.
“What time is it?”
“Sometime around five. I was reading old scripts and nearly forgot to wake you for supper.”
“Angie, darling, did you mean what you said?” Peggy asked, her voice scratchy from sleep.
“Well, yeah, I mean, it could be closer to five thirty but—“
“No. About us.”
Oh shit. Was she awake?
“I-I’m not sure what you mean, Peg.”
“Maybe we should be more than live-in gal pals,” Peggy mumbled sleepily, nuzzling the pillow she was laying on.
“Y-You’re still sleeping, Peggy.”
“You’re still lovely, Angie,” came a garbled response. She continued to mumble drowsily and Angie watched wide-eyed as the other woman started to drool.
“Maybe I’ll come back and wake you in an hour…”
Angie practically ran to the kitchen and splashed cool water on her face.
She heard you, Martinelli. She heard all of it. She was awake, you idiot.
“Well that’s the last time I confess my love for someone when I think they’re not listening.”
“Not listening to what, exactly?”
Angie froze, wincing at her own stupidity.
“N-Nothing, English. I didn’t realize you were up,” Angie muttered, turning to face the sink, feeling her stomach churn.
“Angie?”
The woman jumped at the voice now right behind her.
To say that Peggy Carter looked her best right now would be a blatant lie. But Angie couldn’t even begin to imagine anything more adorable than Peggy Carter. Her hair was ruffled, the tip of her nose red and raw, her face clear of all its usual makeup (save for a bit of lipstick smudged on her forehead) as she stood, squinting in the bright light of the kitchen.
“Y-Yeah?”
“Did you mean what you said? Or was I just lost in a dream?”
This is your shot, Martinelli. Just lie and say it was a dream. You ain’t got any idea what she’s talking about.
“Uh…”
Fantastic. Great job, Ang. A+ work.
“So it wasn’t a dream?”
“Um.”
Goddammit, Martinelli. Use your words!
“N-No. It wasn’t a dream. I… I thought you were knocked out cold, Peg.”
Angie’s hands shook violently as she stared at the hem of her shirt, toying with it between her trembling fingers.
Peggy reached forward, taking Angie’s hand. Angie jumped in response.
“Sorry, darling. I know they’re cold,” Peggy mumbled.
Angie was frozen in place, her eyes watching as Peggy’s freezing fingers clasped over her own, rubbing her knuckles.
Despite the chill of Peggy’s hands, she felt like the room had risen at least five degrees. Her cheeks flushed.
“So did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Did you mean what you said?”
Angie rolled her eyes.
“Of course, I did, Peg. I just… Didn’t think you’d hear it, you know?”
A soft smile came over Peggy’s lips and she sniffled, wincing at the crudely disgusting noise. She wiped her nose carefully before leaning in to brush her lips over Angie’s cheek.
“Angie, darling, I would kiss you but I’d hate to get you sick.”
“Screw it.”
Peggy’s eyes widened at the feeling of Angie’s lips pressed urgently against her own. Her eyes slipped shut, her hands finding Angie’s neck. She felt a flutter in her chest, her stomach flip-flopping at the feel of finally kissing Angie Martinelli.
They pulled back breathless, Angie’s fingertips pushing hair behind Peggy’s ear, cupping her cheek with a gentle reverence.
“Wow.”
“Is the mighty Peggy Carter speechless?”
She nodded in response, laughing. A tear slid down her cheek, her hand moving to hold Angie’s to her cheek.
“Aw, Peg. Don’t cry, please.”
“I’m just… Happy.”
“I am too,” Angie whispered, wrapping her arms around Peggy’s shoulders. They stood wrapped in an embrace, each soaking in the feeling of closeness.
“Alright. Enough mushy stuff. Let’s get some soup in you, alright?”
A quick kiss caught Angie’s lips. Her heart pounded at the feeling, a grin breaking out across her face.
Angie filled a bowl of homemade soup, putting it in front of Peggy with a glass of water.
“This is delicious, Angie. Thank you.”
Angie nodded, leaning her chin on her hand, taking sips of the wine she poured for herself.
“I believe one could get used to this kind of delicious cooking.”
Gosh, she’s cute.
“I’ll cook for you, English. As long as you’ll let me.”
Peggy raised her glass.
“To more than live-in gal pals?”
Angie couldn’t help but laugh.
Of all the terms I could think of, that had to be it.
“Sure, English,” she agreed, clinking their glasses together lightly. “To more than live-in gal pals.”
The smile she received in response was more than she could ever ask for.
Curled up on the couch together, Angie read bits of the paper to Peggy, adding in her own scathing commentary, sharing stories about the folks in the wedding announcements.
Her face contorted and she wrinkled her nose.
“Angie, are you alright?”
“Just fine, Peg.”
A sneeze tore out of Angie and she barely had enough time to cover her face.
“Oh goodness.”
“Looks like you may have given me whatever it is that you’ve got, Peg.”
“Angie, I’m so sorry. I knew that kiss wasn’t a good idea I just—“
She was quickly and effectively (Angie noted) silenced with a kiss.
“Don’t be sorry, English. Just means now you can kiss me all you want.”