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WHO: Peggy Carter
WHERE: Peggy & Stella's Home
WHEN: June 10th Weekend
OPEN TO: Stella Gibson
WARNINGS: Adult content likely within

She's not sure what it is that broke the camel's back (so to speak), but one evening, Peggy returns back to her shared house with Stella feeling tense and tight, having seen a few couples in her daily rounds, and rather than feeling content for them, there's an envy within her that she thought she'd dealt with. It takes another day before Peggy realizes with a sharp pang that it's not a relationship that she's envious of. It's the ghost of touch that she's missing. It would be unladylike to admit how long it's been, but half a decade is a generous answer.

That is absolutely ridiculous, though she doesn't precisely know how to change that. She's hardly the sort of woman who would feel comfortable draping herself across some poor person's doorway to announce that she demands to be held (it sounds even more ridiculous when she puts it like that). Eventually, she concedes that she might be defeated in this respect.

She can take down a counter-spy organization, she can dismantle bombs, she can clock a man and interrogate Russian spies. Where she lacks experience is in this. Luckily, she lives with someone who's far better than this than she. Heading back home, Peggy knows this will likely be an awkward topic, but at the same time, it's been long enough.

"Stella, I'm home," Peggy calls out, shifting the food in her arms. "I've brought some berries and the dried meat from the latest batch."

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Coincidentally, Stella has been thinking about the same thing recently. Granted, it's not been as long for her as it has for Peggy — but the last time she had sex with anyone was Graves, and at this point it's got to have been at least a year, and for someone like Stella that's an age.

At home, there were plenty of metaphorical fish in the metaphorical sea. Stella had never lacked for intimacy when she'd wanted it, which had been, by anyone's standards, fairly often. Here, it's a different story. The village is so small that everyone knows what everyone else is doing — which grates on her a bit — and it's impossible not to be aware of who's dating, in a committed relationship, or even decided to get married. Which is half the village, and the other half are largely people who aren't exactly Stella's type.

Once — once, a long time ago, she thought about asking Peggy. She's been avoiding thinking about that since, because as far as she knows Peggy's not interested in women, and she's in love with someone besides, even though that man isn't here (right now, at least; Steve Rogers has popped in and out of the village so many times she half expects him to show up again any day now). Out of respect for their friendship, Stella's thought it best to leave well enough alone.

So to say she's frustrated is a bit of an understatement. She'd normally discharge that with her swimming routine, but considering the closest place she can really go swimming is miles away in the salt lake in the other village, that's not much of an option. Any kind of physical activity at all is at least a distraction, though, which means today finds Stella cleaning their house from top to bottom. She's just about finished in the kitchen, and when she hears Peggy call out, she stops, going through to meet her in the living room. She's wearing just her white sleeveless top and her cotton trousers rolled up to just below her knees, hair pulled back off her face, a tiny bit flushed from the housework but not at all overexerted. Not like she'd really like to be.

"I think we ought to have enough for the rest of the month now," she says, taking some of the food off of Peggy's hands and helping her bring it into the kitchen and put it away. When they've done that, Stella pauses to look at her properly, dusting off her hands on her trouser legs absently. She can't put a pin on it, but something seems a little off about the other woman today. Maybe it's just her natural suspicious streak, something she can never quite turn off, but after a moment watching her Stella has to say something.

"Everything all right? You look as if something's bothering you."

Peggy finds herself only the slightest bit flustered when she comes across Stella, looking like she's been doing herself some good in moving around to get the blood flowing. She's not sure that this is the first time she's noticed Stella's attractiveness, but perhaps it's the first time that she notices what her own reaction to it is.

When Dottie had kissed her, when Angie got familiar, there had always been a frisson of something there, but Peggy had written it off as having not had many female friendships in so long. And, of course, Dottie was a Russian spy using her own knockout lipstick against her. That part was quite damning.

Still, she shakes her head, trying to dismiss any thoughts she's having, because she's a starving woman and there's no feast. Of course every piece of food looks delicious. "I'm probably an open novel," she admits ruefully. "If you're through with your cleaning, I was hoping I could ask your advice."

Not typically the sort of person keen to accept compliments on her looks, Stella would nonetheless probably be flattered if Peggy found her attractive like this, without the makeup and hair routine she’s used to from home and not exactly wearing the most flattering clothes she has in her wardrobe here. Then again, she’s thought Peggy herself is gorgeous and she’s felt that way since they met — she’s just never acted on that feeling. She knows by now when to leave well enough alone.

Stella arches her brows at the request — Peggy doesn’t usually ask her for advice unless there’s some problem she can’t solve on her own; they’re alike in that way. “Of course,” she says, acquiescing easily. She leads the way into the living room, reaching up in passing to take the elastic out of her hair and run her fingers through it to loosen the slightly sweat-damp strands before she sits down on the sofa, leaving room for Peggy to sit with her. She doesn’t prompt her to continue, just waits for the other woman to speak up on her own.

Peggy feels like there is no polite and proper way to dive into this, so she has the feeling that it's going to be awkwardness until it stops being that way, which means the only way out is through, so to speak. Giving Stella a rueful look, she's sure that she absolutely appears as embarrassed as she feels.

"I was hoping you might be able to give me some advice," she begins with the easy part of this. Asking for advice might be common practice, though Peggy doesn't often solicit it. It might be enough for her that she's asking, but unfortunately, she can't stop there. "About casual relationships, specifically the physical aspect of them."

There. She's gone and said it and she doesn't even feel too much like she wants to die of embarrassment.

Frankly, Stella would rather Peggy would come out and say what she means rather than beating around the bush — although apparently the topic is not one she finds easy to address, considering the look on her face.

At least she doesn't take too long about it. It takes Stella a moment to register what she's said, and then she has to just... stop and look at Peggy for a moment, because that was not remotely the question she was expecting to be asked.

She feels as if maybe she ought to write this down. Maybe it would have been one for her diary if she still had any blank pages left. Today, Peggy Carter asked me for sex advice.

"Is that something you're looking for," she says, "or have you been sleeping with someone already and I haven't noticed?" There's a levity in her tone: teasing, but good-natured. For the sake of not embarrassing Peggy any further, she doesn't say fucking, so there's that. She sort of suspects the former, because if Peggy were carrying on a casual sexual relationship with anyone in the village Stella would like to think she has the observational skills to have noticed by now.

Peggy shifts a little, which ought to make it quite quickly clear that this topic is not one that she handles with the grace and ease that she might think of other ones. It's something she's equipped to maturely handle, only not feel like she understands it.

"I'm not sleeping with anyone," she clarifies, because if she were, then she wouldn't be needing advice. "I've spent a very, very long time not sleeping with anyone," is her addition to that comment, because honestly, that's the problem there within. "I don't know how to approach someone to even ask for something casual."

"I suppose, well, no," she says, becoming more sure, "that is why I need your help. I think it's long past time I let my emotional hangups drive me to aching loneliness."

Stella stops short of saying it's not really about being lonely, because if it were she wouldn't have so many one-night stands, she'd be looking for something more long-term. There's a difference between being lonely and being sexually unfulfilled. That's just her projecting her own experience onto the other woman, though; for all she knows Peggy may be looking for something more than a one-night stand, or she may not. Stella doesn't think she's looking for a relationship, not when her heart is already given to someone else.

"Peggy—" She stops, for a second, thinking about how she wants to word this. It's not an awkward topic for her as such, but she's aware that how she handles this and how other people handle it are two different things.

"I usually just ask," she says finally. And now she's going to proceed to get a little blunt about things. "You remember Poe Dameron, the pilot? I'd known him for about five minutes." Maybe slightly longer than that, but the point is they barely had time to learn one another's names and have a short conversation. Sometimes it doesn't even take that. She'd known James Olson for about thirty seconds before she invited him to her hotel room in Belfast.

"He was attractive and I wanted sex. He didn't say anything offensive — in fact he seemed rather friendly, and not like someone who was likely to get attached. I asked, he said yes. If he'd said no I would have moved on." She doesn't physically shrug, but there's a silence at the end that suggests something quite nonchalant about the whole thing.

"I think for you," she suggests, cautiously, after that pause, "you might want to consider approaching someone you know you like and who likes you. It might be easier for you." Privately, she thinks half the single men and not a few of the single women in the village, herself included, would be more than willing if she so much as hinted she was interested. Peggy's smart, talented, gorgeous. Just because she happens to be a bit awkward in this particular arena doesn't take away from the rest of that. But she also thinks Peggy's not the sort of woman to ask for sex from a stranger. They're two different people where that's concerned.

Peggy can't even begin to think of knowing someone for five minutes before approaching such a subject. For one, she's not sure that she's ever even trusted someone that quickly to be able to transition to a place where she might suggest that. Don't get her wrong, when she'd first met Steve, it had taken about an hour before deciding she wanted to eat him whole, but she feels like that had been special circumstances.

"I'm not well experienced in this arena," Peggy admits. "It's been years, Stella," she confesses, feeling safe to say this to a friend. It's embarrassing and she knows that she hates it, but she'll say it. "I'm tired of feeling touch-starved and lonely when it comes to waiting for a man that's not here."

"I'm not going to marry anyone," she says bluntly, "but I can't see why I've been punishing myself waiting. I'm afraid I've waited so long now that I've built myself into a corner," she confesses ruefully. "Because I wouldn't feel comfortable approaching nearly anyone, not unless they were willing to take the lead. It seems all a bit selfish, then, asking someone else to do all the work while I relearn the basics."

And there’s the root of what Stella suspects is actually the problem — a lack of sexual confidence. That combined with a years-long dry spell — well. Stella can’t even imagine doing without for that long. She might quite honestly go mad.

“I don’t think it’s selfish at all,” she says, “especially not if you make it clear from the start. If the other person knows what to expect then there’s nothing wrong with that at all.”

There’s a pause, and then a small, sly smile. “Besides, some people don’t mind that sort of thing.”

She doesn’t — but oh, she really can’t let her mind start wandering in that direction or she won’t be able to stop thinking about it. Fuck.

"Oh, I know all too well about the line of men who would be all too happy for such a thing," Peggy notes, seeing as virginal is a trait that she doesn't embody, but so many men seem to want of their women. Honestly, it's part of why she feels at times that she's not the sort of woman that anyone would settle for.

Giving Stella a half-hearted smile, she's truly grateful for the help she's getting, she just wishes that she could put it to better use. "So, then, I suppose that's where I am. I'd like to have sex, Stella," she says, bluntly, and it feels good to simply get it out like that, as if she's been keeping it in.

Even the act of saying it makes her feel better.

"I should have just jumped someone months ago, but honestly, I don't think I could have born the humiliation to be rejected."

Sometimes it does help to just say things, honestly, which is what Stella was trying to get her to do. Unfortunately, while she's got it out in the open and that might help, it doesn't solve her problem.

"I think anyone who told you no would be missing out on someone extraordinary," she says, and it's a totally genuine compliment given with no ulterior motive at all other than trying to get Peggy to feel good about herself.

There's a pause, and — God, she really is going to ask this, because at this point she may as well. "Is it just men, then? That you're interested in." The question is casual, not like she's angling for a particular reaction. Which she's not, although depending on how Peggy answers — well, Stella shouldn't get ahead of herself.

She's always assumed the other woman is heterosexual, but it occurs to Stella one could assume the same thing about her if one didn't know any better. She doesn't exactly advertise her sexual orientation, and since she's been here she's only been with men.

Peggy Carter is never flustered. She might be off her game at times and need a moment, but she's never flustered, which is proof of how much that question rattles her a touch, seeing as she's a touch surprised by it, though not at the same time. "I never really thought about...well, that is to say, I've had some experiences and flirtations in the course of..."

She's awful at this, is what she's quickly learning. "I don't think that it's only men that catch my eye," she admits, careful because such an admission may not mean much to Stella, but are more than Peggy's ever offered before. Those feelings with Angie, with Dottie even, she knows that they mean something. There had even been stray thoughts about the Jarvises, what-ifs that never made it to light.

"It's really never come up before, at least, not in 1947," she points out.

The answer surprises her slightly, though she carefully stifles that reaction. Well. She really ought to know not to make assumptions, shouldn't she?

"No, I'd imagine not." It probably says something about the time Stella's from that she even asked the question in the first place, and furthermore, that she's so unbothered by the idea. Certainly same-sex relations aren't entirely accepted in 2012, but it's a good deal more socially acceptable than in the postwar era.

Stella takes a deep breath now, not nervous so much as steeling herself to be rejected. She's been avoiding saying anything along these lines for a long time, conscious of the fact that overstepping any personal boundaries could ruin her friendship with Peggy, and that's exactly the last thing she wants. But now, knowing that Peggy is at least conscious of some degree of attraction to other women, she may as well say something.

"I asked because if you were interested, I was going to offer to help."

If Peggy wants her help, that is — if Peggy wants her, and therein lies the issue, really. There's something very personal and a little exposing about asking a close friend for something this intimate. Stella isn't going to be hurt if Peggy turns her down, at least not irreparably so — but there's a part of her, maybe slightly selfish, that hopes she'll at least think about it.

Edited (typos :|) 2018-06-14 02:13 (UTC)

That's not something that Peggy had expected. Her silence here is because the offer is so kind and thoughtful and it strikes her with how wanted it is. Stella is a beautiful woman with experience on so many paths that Peggy is only starting out on and she knows that their friendship is far too important to turn anything sexual into a relationship.

It seems too good to be true.

Yet, at the same time, Peggy's yearning for something and she thinks that now that it's in her head, she's not going to be able to get it out of there, especially not when the possibility is so damned appealing. "I think I'd like that." She hears herself speak before she even knows that she feels ready to do it, but there it is.

"I'd have to be blind not to notice how lovely you are," she points out, "and I know that you would make sure to take care not to hurt me in any way."

Stella can't help the sense of relief she feels at the sound of Peggy's acquiescence, her consent. She hasn't irretrievably fucked this up, and Peggy wants this, and Jesus Stella feels like she's wanted this herself for ages, she's just kept the desire so far buried beneath her self-control that she nearly forgot it.

It's nice to be able to let herself want this again. She smiles a little, and reaches for Peggy's hand, just to touch her. "Of course," she says, fully confident not only in her ability to do this without hurting the other woman, but to give her an experience she'll enjoy. Stella's skill in the bedroom is something she's quite proud of.

Her hand drifts up Peggy's arm, just touching her softly. They've touched before this, but not like this, with obvious intent in mind. The caress moves to the other woman's neck, then her face, fingertips brushing back strands of Peggy's hair, the touch gentle and confident.

"You deserve this," she tells her softly, and then leans in, without hesitating, to kiss her. Just a soft press of lips at first, almost chaste if not for the obvious desire in it.

Peggy reminds herself that no matter what happens, Stella knows what she's doing. She's made a habit of surrounding herself with people that do, and Peggy finds herself rather flushed and yet, utterly pleased, seeing as when Stella takes her hand, this isn't just the friendly reassurance that she's grown used to.

It's so much more, which makes her fine hairs stand on end as she leans into the touch, eyes falling shut due to the need singing through her, making her want so much more.

Even Stella's words make her feel a little weak, like she might collapse into the touch, but lucky for Peggy, they're starting where she knows how to operate. It's not aggressive like Dottie, desperate like Steve, and not even yearning like Daniel.

It's a sweet thing and Peggy shifts a little into Stella's space, a knee close to Stella's thighs as she positions herself in a higher sit, only so she can sink down into a loose straddle of her knee, letting out a relieved sound into the kiss.

As Peggy leans into her, Stella slides her hand from her cheek around to the back of her neck; and as the other woman repositions herself to get further into Stella's personal space, Stella puts her other hand on the small of her back, just to encourage her to get exactly as close as she wants to. She's not shy about this in the least, and doesn't see any reason why she ought to be. She tilts her head to get a better angle on the kiss and oh, it's such a relief. Peggy's not the only one who's been feeling deprived of this. It's been a long while since the last time she was with anyone, and longer still than that since the last time she was with a woman, and she badly missed this.

Now she's sort of wondering why they didn't do this sooner. Stella gives a low, encouraging hum in the back of her throat, and kisses Peggy a little harder, daring a soft nip at her lower lip to gauge her reaction. She's savoring this and wanting more all at the same time, and has to remind herself they've no need to rush.

Peggy doesn't want to appear too hungry and desperate, because she has the feeling that it might come off poorly, if that's the case. Still, at the same time, she's not willing to give a single inch, not now that Stella has let her in so willingly, which is why she's happy to push back and give into the kiss.

Parting her lips, Peggy wraps her arms around Stella's neck, her fingers lightly draped over her back, and her hair starting to fall loosely over her forehead, though she knows that it's not going to get any better.

From here on out, it's only worse, but she actually adores the notion.

They kiss like that for a long while, and when they finally have to break apart for oxygen Stella realizes she is in fact somewhat breathless. When was the last time anyone kissed her breathless? Fuck, this is fantastic.

She lingers close as she catches her breath, stroking her fingertips up along the length of Peggy's spine, just for the sake of touch. Stella gives a little laugh, just a soft, half-breathed sound of pleasure. Part of her wants to tell Peggy exactly how long she's thought about doing this — or, probably more accurately, how long she's been trying not to think about doing this — but that seems as if it would be too confessional.

She settles for another kiss instead, soft and brief. "I think," she says, "maybe we ought to think about going somewhere more comfortable."

Somehow, she doubts Peggy really wants to do this on the sofa. Stella wouldn't mind, but honestly, there's a reason beds are ideal for this sort of thing.

Peggy runs a hand through her hair to adjust it out of her eyes when they break apart, simply to give herself some of her dignity back, though maybe it's all right to fall apart with only Stella here to watch. Maybe that's what trusting someone is for.

Her back arches into the touch, pressing her chest forward against Stella's. She thinks ruefully that she hadn't really prepared for this and that she's not wearing a decent bra, but at this point, beggars can't be choosers.

"Lucky for us, there happens to be two close by," she quips, and they're both quite comfortable. "Shall we?"

Peggy's hair will be rather more in disarray when they're done, but Stella thinks that's a good sign. It'll mean they'll have done this right.

"Come on, then," she says, standing up when Peggy's given her room to do so and reaching for her hand, leading them to her own bedroom by default. She's thinking the same thing, that if they'd planned this she would have worn her good underwear — but oh well. As much as Stella would like to, she can't always plan for everything. She certainly didn't expect to be doing this when she got up this morning.

When they've reached the bedroom, a matter of a few steps from the living room, she leans back in to kiss Peggy — her neck, this time, starting from beneath the hinge of her jaw and kissing down to her throat, just for the sake of tasting her skin. Memorizing her in the event that they don't manage to do this again. Her hands seek out the edges of Peggy's shirt, sliding just beneath to stroke her bare skin. "May I?" she asks, and given the position of her hands and the way she tugs lightly on Peggy's top a moment later it's probably obvious what she means. She doesn't normally ask if it's all right to undress someone, but she thinks maybe Peggy would like to be asked. Stella's already a little impatient to have the clothing out of the way.

Peggy's a touch wobbly on her feet, but only because her body is so unused to feeling this much pleasure at one time. Honestly, it's so overwhelmingly incredible and she doesn't want it to stop in any way, which is why the kisses to her neck make her shiver so, but when Stella asks of her shirts, Peggy's breath inhales sharply.

Stella's seen her without to help mend her, so she's seen her scars. The rebar wound that's healed over, her bullet wounds in her shoulder. Nodding, though, she's more than happy to let Stella take the lead. After all, this is what she had wanted.

"Please do," she agrees, voice hoarse and low. At least in this department, Peggy knows she's quite impressive, as she's never heard any complaints about her figure.

Peggy’s desire is an incredible turn-on, honestly, and the rough needy edge on her voice makes Stella’s pulse quicken. She doesn’t at all mind leading here, given she’s used to it; she urges the garment off over Peggy’s head, and then just stops for a moment to get a good look at her. It’s true there’s nothing here she hasn’t seen before, but the context of this is totally different.

She doesn’t say you’re beautiful out loud, because she thinks Peggy has probably heard that plenty of times, but her gaze is appreciative and her touch is soft and warm as she runs her hands up Peggy’s sides and leans in to kiss her again. Eventually her hand strokes downwards again, fingers toying with the waistband of the other woman’s trousers but not quite yet moving to take them off. She might be teasing, just a little.

Peggy steps forward as soon as the shirt is off, eager to be moving this along, even if she has absolutely no idea what the next proper step in any of this is. Still, it's easy enough to lean into the kiss, her fingers sliding over Stella's neck when the touch moves to her trousers.

"I feel as if I'm not prepared at all for this," she murmurs, right into Stella's kiss, her eyes still shut. She'll enjoy properly later, but for now, she likes living in this heady space where everything seems so dreamlike and wondrous and somehow, not-real.

There's a surreal air to all of this that makes Stella, too, wonder if she's having an especially vivid erotic dream. Of course, she's not; this is real, insofar as anything that happens here is real. She just never imagined she'd be doing this with Peggy, of all people, who is a dear friend and someone she's admired for a long time. They're not going to fall headlong into a torrid romance, not least because neither of them is looking for that — but there is affection, and trust, and it's good.

"Do you always have to be prepared for everything?" she says, a bit archly, good-natured teasing as she pulls back a little, reluctant to lose the close contact but eager to keep going. The graze of Peggy's fingers on the back of her neck makes her shiver, gooseflesh prickling along her bare arms. "There's something to be said for a bit of spontaneity." This as she finally undoes the fastening on Peggy's trousers, and helps her to step out of them.

Going with the flow is how she put it to Reed Smith once. For a woman who has such a strong need to be in control in most of her daily life, Stella does like a bit of spontaneity to her sexual encounters — allowing her mood and the moment to dictate things rather than presuming things ought to go a certain way every time. It's certainly what's happening here, because neither of them planned for this at all and yet, here they are.