It's not worth it (It has to be worth it), an agent carter fanfic

(Prompt: Peggy is super ticklish and doesn't want anyone to know; Angie finds out and uses it to her advantage)

Peggy could never quite understand why Angie felt such a compulsion to befriend her. Not when there were people at the Griffith to which she might have been better suited to, like Carol (who once fit an entire chicken down her sweater), or Evelyn (a lounge singer down in Midtown), or even Sarah (a slut, apparently. Okay, so maybe not Sarah). But not Peggy Carter. The Soldier. The Agent. The War Veteran. The ex-love Interest of an MIA Captain America.

Honestly, I'll admit that I'm not too fond of the 'ticklish' scenarios, however, it was given to me as a prompt and I will not turn away a prompt simply because it's not one I'm big on doing. Despite that I did sorta... write it in my own style, so it's not as... fluffy(?) as the prompt would suggest. I hope I did it justice, though.

Anywho, continue forth.

She was distant, devoted far more to her work (at the phone company, of course) than to anything else in the world, and perhaps for good reason. She'd tried twice to keep her work and private life separate - first with the War and Steve, and second with Colleen and Leviathan - but, predictably, both ended with little to no success on either end.

(Everyone you care for ends up getting hurt, or even killed. You know your work, Peggy, you know the risks. It's not worth it, it can't be worth it.)

So why she was opening her door to a somewhat tipsy Angie late that night, with her blue eyes wide and a hopeful smile gracing her delicate features, Peggy had no conceivable answer to console herself with.

"English!" Her voice was loud, cheerful, and undoubtedly rang down the hallway.

Peggy glanced cautiously down the hall. "Angie, not so loud! Miss Fry will most certainly-"

But true to her style, Angie was already in her room, half sitting half lying back on her bed.

"Y'know, I still think that you got a more comfortable bed than me. Which is really unfair, ain't it." She collapsed backwards, lying down completely now, with her head resting just before the wall and feet hanging over the side. Her eyes, previously closed, peeked open to glance at her still standing form. "You gonna stand there all night, Peg?" Her hand flopped up and down impatiently against the bed, a poor imitation of a "sit" gesture.

Peggy's gaze, which had originally been locked on the still open door, was now fixed on Angie's relaxed form. With a soft click, the door shut.

(It has to be worth it.)

"You have an awful habit of just barging straight into my room, you do realise," is what Peggy said instead. "Do you do this with everyone else?"

Angie gave a vague shrug, continuing to watch her from the bed. "You're still standing there, English."

With a sigh, Peggy pressed her palms into her eyes, relishing the distinct lack of make-up, before tightening the ropes of the dressing gown around her waist. "You're incorrigible, Angie."

Angie settled further into the mattress, a soft contented smile gracing her lips. "Ma says the same thing." As t he bed dipped under Peggy's weight, Angie rolled onto her side, curling her legs under her.

"Your mother sounds like a smart woman."

A muffled hum answered, followed by silence, and Peggy took the opportunity to observe the relaxed figure beside her. Eyes closed, long lashes rested daintily on her cheek. Shadows darkening the fragile skin beneath her lashes. Pink velvet lipstick smudged along her upper lip. Hair ruffled, light brown locks falling limply around her imperfect, beautiful face.

(She doesn't need you.)

"You didn't come into the diner today."

Her gaze refocused, finding Angie with eyes open and watching her. "No, I had some… familial matters to take care of, I'm afraid."

"Familial? Like, here or back in England?"

"Ah, England." She hesitated briefly. "My sister has required some assistance back home. She recently got engaged, actually." Well, that technically wasn't a lie.

Angie seemed to mull that over quietly. "So, there are two of you. Huh. Is she as mysterious as you are? Meeting married men in secret, coming in after curfew, smuggling other men upstairs under the disguise of 'cousins'?"

Deciding to feign innocence, Peggy played along, putting a facade of bafflement over her previous neutral expression. "I must digress that I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

"Really?" Angie was sitting up now, single eyebrow raised in complete scepticism. "You actually gonna try that card on me, English," she said dryly. "I mean, my brother told me more convincing stories when he was bent." She seemed to lose herself for a second, then smiled, huffing a small laugh. "Gee. That was terrible, Peg." A playfully disappointed shake of her head followed.

Peggy shrugged. She already knew that Angie wouldn't have bought the excuse – pitiful as it were – yet Peggy found that she didn't seem to care anyway.

(But, God, do you need her.)

"It was worth a shot," was what she said.

Peggy watched as Angie heaved a dramatic sigh and pouted, looking up at her through her lashes. As it were, Peggy's only response was a raised eyebrow and an amused curling of her lips. "C'mon, English. You gotta tell me," she whined. At the silence that followed, Angie huffed in frustration and swatted her hand at Peggy's side. At the touch, Peggy automatically flinched away, shifting uncomfortably out of reach.

Angie stared at her, confused. Her head tilted and Peggy squirmed internally under her intense scrutiny. "Everything okay, English?"

She nodded clumsily, uttering a weak, "Oh, yes. Everything is lovely," and shifted awkwardly.

It was when a grin took place instead that Peggy started to worry. Angie's hand flew out once more, fingers probing at Peggy's waist, and again causing her to draw away compulsively. "No way."

Peggy cleared her throat. "Pardon?"

Angie was laughing freely now. "No way. There ain't no way you're ticklish." Sitting up, Angie folded her legs beneath her. "Oh, this is gold, English!" She leaned forward teasingly, prompting Peggy to lean further back in return.

"I, erm, have to be at work again tomorrow morning. They weren't pleased that I couldn't-."

"No way!" Angie pulled herself forward on her arms, smirking. "Oh, just wait 'til I tell the girls that the mighty stoic like woman of Peggy Carter is ticklish!"

"Angela Martinelli, you will do no such thing!" Flushed heat began to creep up her neck and for God's sake why did this have to happen now? She stood hastily, brushing down her creased robe and hurriedly putting space between them.

"Aw, c'mon English. Spill." Angie sat forward, bouncing lightly at the suddenness of the movement. "I'll tackle ya. You know I ain't no fibber." She raised a hand, fingers pointing outward and leaning herself forward as if in preparation to lunge.

"Really now, Angie." She gave a light, nervous laugh, shifting behind the table so it lay between her and Angie, taking up a defensive position. "There's absolutely no need for that."

Angie seemed to ponder the action, and for a second she appeared to almost go through with it, but then a pout appeared on her lips and she slumped back into the bed, curling into herself and closing her eyes, mumbling, "You're no fun, English." Peggy's shoulders, once tense, loosened. "If it weren't for Miss Fry hearin' us, I woulda had you down like a doormat."

Peggy raised an eyebrow and paused, tilting her head and observing her surroundings for any lingering 'danger'. "Yes, well. I do believe that is no longer necessary." She cleared her throat. "Now, are you quite done?"

Shoulders moved and legs curled back beneath her, Angie answer was muffled within the fabric of the bed cover as she almost seemed to melt into the cushioning.

"Sorry?"

Again, her response was muffled but this time Peggy was able to make out the words "too tired" and "g'night".

Peggy sighed, stepping around the table to stand at the edge of the bed. "Oh, Angie. What am I am I going to do with you?" Shoes off, Angie wasn't even out of her waitressing uniform.

Deciding to just let her stay in her room, Peggy bent over to wrap an arm around Angie's shoulders and pulled herself into a standing position. With her free hand, she pulled back her bedding before lowering Angie back onto the bed and covering her with the sheets.

"You still gotta tell me your secrets, English." Her words were barely even a murmur, syllables all slurring together in an incoherent jumble. "I know your weakness now… can't keep them forever."

Peggy smiled, reaching out to brush the limp curls from Angie's face. "Maybe one day, darling," she soothed.

"You gotta promise me, Pegs."

Peggy's eye's softened. She would. She really would. She would not let Angie become another casualty to fall limply into her lap. Not another Steve. Not another Colleen. No, not again.

After all, she was Peggy Carter. The Soldier. The Agent. The War Veteran. The ex-love interest of an MIA Captain America. The neighbour part-time waitress and a wannabe Broadway star.

"With all my heart, Angie."

(You really do need her.)

Am I pleased with the outcome of this? Maybe. Did it turn out as I originally expected? Not at all.

Regardless, thanks for the read. Hope you enjoyed your stay.