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“You know, English, I can cook for the both of us.”
Peggy smiled lightly at the nickname, glancing over her shoulder at Angie sitting comfortably at the kitchen table, still in her uniform from work, her hair a little dishevelled. Drawing her attention back to the eggs she was currently scrambling, Peggy let out a faint little sigh, something intended to appeal to the dramatic woman she had grown desperately fond of.
“How many times have you served meals to me when I come to the diner, Angie? I think it’s my turn,” Peggy insisted, her voice comfortable and light.
Since they’d moved into Howard’s offered residence, things had been growing in a direction that Peggy hadn’t suspected. Long evenings together in front of the fire, early mornings in nothing but their night clothes, all messy hair and sleepy eyes, had served to bring them closer and closer. There were lingering gazes, brushes of their hands when they reached for the same thing coincidentally at the same time, and Peggy could swear sometimes that Angie did it on purpose, just so they could laugh about it, so they could glance shyly away and both try to hide the way their faces flushed and their hearts raced.
Women weren’t necessarily a thing Peggy had entertained as more than allies and friends and people she wanted to support because, well, it wasn’t as if there was a lot of men rallying for the rights (or lack thereof) that women had. Yet, it wasn’t as if she’d never considered it. She considered herself a modern woman, she had spent her time in the West Village, she believed that it was fine to love who you loved, gender was a non-issue, but the rest of the world hadn’t quite caught up yet and that always held them back.
Peggy didn’t think Howard had any problems with it, not with the amount of women he entertained at the same time, so she didn’t fear them being kicked out of their beautiful home. She didn’t think Mr. Jarvis had much of a concern there, either. He’d stammer and stutter, go a little red in the face, but he wouldn’t be hurtful to find out something like Peggy’s ridiculous school-girl crush on her dear friend. It was everyone else.
Honestly, she was even a little worried Angie might hate her if she made the smallest suggestion of something between them.
With a noisy sigh right back at Peggy, Angie stood up, padding across to the stove with bare feet, not a care in the world for the fact she’d left rumpled stockings on the floor by the table.
“I don’t think me bringing you cups of tea in between dealing with the jerks and the rabble at work counts.And besides, you cook breakfast, you make lunch for me to take to work, you make dinner when I come home. I’m starting to think you’re my wife.”
Peggy didn’t miss the way Angie grinned at her, all mirth and warmth, and she returned it with an equally fond smile, forcing herself to pay attention as she cooked.
“I like cooking for you. It’s nice to add it to my routine, when things are quiet. The agency is always so busy but this is… stability. It’s been quite some time since I felt stable,” Peggy explained, unable to hide how important this really was to her. She knew soon enough that everything would go crazy, nothing stayed simple or quiet in her life, and she’d hate it if it did, but getting to do just a little thing here or there to make herself feel like she was in control of her life made it better on her. It helped that Angie was appreciative, that she insisted she could do it herself, that she didn’t just take it for granted.
“You know, Peg, you’re being so cute lately, you’re asking for someone to just give you a big ol’ kiss to just tell you how cute you are,” Angie teased, her hand coming to rest on Peggy’s waist. “Maybe I should just marry you now, before some fella comes in, sweeps you off your feet, and I’m left making my own lunches to take to work.”
Peggy offered her brightest smile, meeting Angie’s gaze. “Maybe you should. I don’t think I’d say no to a kiss, at least.”
The longer Angie looked at her, the more Peggy thought that she’d taken the teasing too far. It had been playful, Angie had it on her terms, and now Peggy had changed things. She thought about back-tracking, playing it off as a joke, but she was nothing if not stubborn and she didn’t want to pretend she didn’t feel this way anymore. Angie’s hand on her waist, the warmth of her pressed up against her side, it meant something to Peggy. She didn’t want to lose that.
Deciding to just take her chance while she had it, she leaned into Angie’s side more, feeling those lithe fingers tighten on her waist, and she kissed her, squarely on the mouth, noses bumped together, not a lick of finesse to it at all. It lasted all of a moment and Peggy backed off, not wanting to crowd Angie any longer, not now she’d made it clear how she felt and what she wanted, but she didn’t pull free of Angie’s hold and she didn’t break the eye contact they had. It was too soon to let any of this go and she’d cling to every second she had left.
“You call that a kiss? You just about broke my nose,” Angie complained, all drama and fuss, and then she pulled Peggy up close, chest to chest, and gave her a kiss worthy of the stage. She ran her fingers over Peggy’s cheek, cupping her jaw, and she drew the kiss out, all sweet and soft, with every bit of warmth she could muster for her.
Peggy had enough pride to ignore the way she had gasped in surprise at being pulled up close but the kiss felt so good that she couldn’t be ashamed of the sigh of contentment that escaped her. Looping her arms around Angie’s waist, she held tightly to her, wanting the kiss to go on forever. It didn’t, of course, and she told herself it was the first of many, something to consider a beginning.
Smiling softly as they separated only enough to look at each other, Peggy lifted her hand to tuck a strand of Angie’s hair behind her ear. “Let me finish making dinner. Then we can go from there.”
“Sounds good to me, English.”