Truth Will Out

The clock is chiming in the hallway.

And you're kissing Angie Martinelli.

You never want this to end. If you stop, you might wake up. You might jolt awake to find yourself alone in your living room. Without warm skin beneath your fingers and soft lips working their way along your jawline. Not even in your wildest imaginings had Angie been so wonderful at this particular skill. Toying with your hair and flicking your tongue against yours. You'd been loosing track of how long you'd had her against you, until that grandfather clock in the hallway had brought you both back to reality.

“Darling,” you breath out as her tongue flicks against the sensitive spot tucked beneath your ear. Heat burns beneath your skin, but the shiver it elicits down your spine only serves to force your ribs into spasm.

Your fingers tense in her curls, careful not to hurt, but enough that Angie frowns and pulls back again. You chase her lips for another brief press, before falling back to the couch. Well. Tomorrow has come.

“Peg, let's get you some ice and painkillers okay? I can't enjoy this knowing you're hurting.”

You haven't got the energy to argue. You feel in a daze, to be perfectly honest. Between being woken so suddenly, the pain curling around your side and Angie's proximity, you find yourself rather distracted. You run your hand down her neck to squeeze her shoulder, bracing yourself to sit up.

“Plus, Howard's still loiterin'”

“Oh God, really?”

“Well I didn't hear the elevator leave!”

That was true. You hadn't either, not that you'd been especially listening.

“Come on honey, let's get you up okay?” She gets to her feet first, and offers you her hand.

You lean heavily against her, letting her support most of your weight as you gently ease up onto your feet. As soon as she knows you've found your balance, she's got her arms around your neck, pulling you close in a gentle embrace. Your hands immediately seek out her waist. You fit together so well. How had it taken this long?

“Welcome home English.”

Standing against you now, you can see Angie's lipstick is smudged, and another wave of warmth floods to your core when you realise her colour is probably smeared across your own lips. You can feel the very slight sway in her hips. Tipsy probably. It had recently been her birthday.

It feels so natural to pull her tighter against you, quietly thrilled with the delighted little gasp you earn when you lean down to kiss her again.

“Come on,” you murmur, pulling away just enough that you can catch her eyes in the low light and brush the tip of your nose against hers, “Let's find him, shall we?”

You hold hands. You're utterly charmed when she flexes her fingers between yours as she guides you through the dimly lit apartment towards the glow of the kitchen.

Along the way, you manage to shuffle out of your jacket. Your fatigues are, for want of a better word, foul. If you were less exhausted, you'd have found the energy to be embarrassed that Angie had been so up close and personal when you were three days clear of your last decent wash. You'd love to shed the rest of your clothes too, they're rough and practical and good lord is that burnt patch on your forearm and you'd just much rather be in your favourite robe right now.

Angie steps into the kitchen first, giggling shyly when Howard wolf whistles at you both. You're caught between a good natured smirk and an eye roll. His tux jacket is draped over the table, and his bowtie is hanging loosely around his neck. He's also helped himself to a rather generous glug of your bloody brandy.

“I see you've made yourself comfortable,” you grumble, glaring incredibly unsubtly at the bottle he's left uncorked on the counter. Angie squeezes your fingers, pecks you on the cheek and then slides away from you, heading to the refrigerator to fetch you some ice.

Howard shrugs, “What can I say? My hosts were otherwise occupied!”

Your mouth opens to fire back a witty retort, but it dies in your throat when Angie blushes deep scarlet and starts giggling again. You can't exactly deny that you were somewhat occupied. You limp into the kitchen properly, and lean carefully back against the counter top. Angie dumps the ice tray into a hand towel and bundles it up.

The kettle is on, and steam is curling into the midnight air. You remember the last time Howard had made you tea in this kitchen. The truth serum.

“You owe me another bottle of Woodford Howard.”

He takes a swig of the brandy he's nursing, eyebrow cocked up in confusion, “How'd you figure that Carter?!”

“I do seem to recall, you said you'd 'make it three' if I ever kissed Angie. Good timing really, I'm almost out.”

Realisation dawns on his face, and he laughs and raises his glass in a toast, “It would appear I do.”

Angie is back at your side, and she presses the ice carefully to your ribs. The cold is nice. The arm that slides around your waist is nicer.

“You made a bet that we'd kiss?!” her tone is even and you can't tell if she's amused or annoyed. Maybe you shouldn't have said that.

“Uh?”

She clearly finds your panic amusing, because she softens immediately and presses a kiss to your jaw. Somehow she wraps herself tighter against you, head settling against your shoulder, grinning.

“If you did, half that bottle is mine. I kissed you first.”

Angie's POV

Howard is kind enough to gulp down his brandy when he notices how much Peg is slouching against you and the counter. It's already way past late, and she's clearly exhausted. Even her tea has been ignored, the cup rapidly cooling on the kitchen table.

He probably understands that neither of you are overly interested in anyone else but each other this evening.

You'd tried to be subtle. Your fingers has started above her blouse, sliding beneath the fabric absent-mindedly. Honest. And she'd pressed kisses to your temple as Howard caught her up with what she'd missed while she'd been in Europe. Work mostly, finishing up with your birthday party. She'd done an excellent job of looking interested as her eyes started sliding closed, sleep catching up after her long day. You kinda forgot she'd literally been in another continent this morning.

“Yes, well, thank you again for taking Angie out tonight Howard. I really do appreciate it.”

“We both know you'd have been there given the choice. I think it worked out pretty well anyway,” he smiles, throwing his tux back on and looking between you both. He has that look on his face.  The one when one of his experiments goes well. You can't decide if it's sweet or unnerving.

“Best birthday ever!” you agree happily anyway, squeezing Peg's waist and looking up at her. Easily the best. She smiles back at you.

He disappears into the hallway, “I can show myself out. Now Director, I don't want you in the office tomorrow. I'll get Dr Wells to check in with you Monday.” You leave Peggy's arms to give him a hug, muttering thanks into his ear.

Peggy meanwhile just salutes sarcastically, “Yes boss.” The elevator slides open at the touch of button, and Howard steps into the small space. As the door slides begin to close, he throws one last comment into the apartment.

“Just FYI, sex isn't good for bruised bones Peg. I can speak from exp_” the elevator dings, and descends. He's gone. At fucking last.

You can feel the heat radiating off Peg's cheeks at Howard's words. You step in front of her, very deliberately into her space again. Your hands slide purposefully around her waist. You couldn't get enough of feeling her beneath your palms. Months of aching to touch her. You intended to make up for lost time.

“He's not wrong y'know,” she murmurs across your head, almost apologetically.

“Peggy! The thought had... barely crossed my mind...” you bit your lip, knowing a blush was creeping up your neck. You'd had had an active imagination all your life. Had had a particularly exciting time imagining all sorts about your roommate the night after she'd left for Europe. Imagining her lips and her tongue and her fingers... and now you had the real life kisses to recall. The real life exploration of her hands. Always gentle. Always respectful.

For now anyway.

“Okay. Maybe it crossed my mind a whole bunch. But you're exhausted and you're hurting Peg.”

You kiss her deeply, slowly. There's no rush. You had all the time in the world now. You kiss and kiss and kiss, and then she's yawning sleepily against you.

“Anyway," she starts, "I believe it's proper to take a lady on a date first.” You like the sound of that. A date. You peel yourself away from her and gentle pull her towards your bedrooms. It had been tomorrow for nearly half hour. It was time to sleep.

“I'm all yours English. You can take me to see that movie next week.”

“You want to wait a week?”

“You can take me to see that movie tomorrow.”