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Angie’s kind-of-sort-of-maybe in Peggy’s lap, because this chair is really too small for the both of them. Sitting on the floor got cold after about an hour, though, so here they are, with Angie’s back pushing Peggy’s shoulder against the chair and her hair brushing against Peggy’s neck.
"Can I play with your hair?" Peggy asks, even though her arm is stuck between Angie and the backrest. Angie nods and shifts so that Peggy’s arm is free, then settles back again.
Peggy, almost absentmindedly, winds her fingers in Angie’s hair. She’s not sure how much she’s had to drink. Wasn’t that much. Probably.
"I’m going to braid it," Peggy says, suddenly animated. She props herself up against the backrest and fiddles with a few strands of Angie’s hair. "I’m very talented at braiding hair. So, what do you want? I can do French, Dutch, English…”
"There is no such thing as an English braid." Angie scoffs and rolls her eyes.
"Of course there is," Peggy says, very earnestly. "It’s absolutely lovely. Everything English is lovely, as you well know." She shoots Angie a suggestive look.
"Very suave," Angie comments. "Really, I’m falling all over you."
"I’m thinking of something better." Peggy actually sounds mildly offended. "Just give a moment."
"Can’t wait, English." Angie tries and fails to repress a smile.
"Oh, I’ve got something." Peggy hasn’t stopped fiddling with Angie’s hair. "Are you my lines?"
"This better be good, Carter," Angie warns, then shudders when Peggy’s fingertips brush against her scalp.
Peggy ignores her. “Because I’ll never forget you,” she says, and Angie chokes out a laugh.
"Really, Peggy?" Angie rolls her eyes. "Where’d you pick that one up?"
"I’m trying to be relevant to your interests," Peggy says, and whacks the back of Angie’s head.
"Ow," Angie complains.
"You’re impossible," Peggy mutters, and then her fingers are in Angie’s hair again.
"Is that really all you got?" Angie asks dryly.
"I’m thinking.” Peggy pauses. “You’re so sweet you put Hershey’s out of business?”
"Enough," Angie groans, but she’s giggling. "Please stop."
"You’re under arrest," Peggy says, and seems really proud of herself. "For stealing my heart—"
Angie rolls her eyes, thinks to hell with it, and leans up and kisses Peggy, who, for a second, seems the tiniest bit surprised, and then her hand holds onto the back of Angie’s head and she’s kissing back—Peggy Carter is kissing Angie back, and there’s a weird jubilant feeling in Angie’s chest that she doesn’t want to go away, ever.
"You didn’t let me finish," Peggy says when Angie pulls back because she can’t stop smiling.
"That was kind of the point, English," Angie confesses, and Peggy almost knocks her off the chair in her haste to kiss Angie again.