Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/4570293.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/F
  Fandom:
      Agent_Carter_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Peggy_Carter/Angie_Martinelli
  Character:
      Peggy_Carter, Angie_Martinelli, Dottie_Underwood
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_High_School, Alternate_Universe_-_Modern_Setting,
      Friends_to_Lovers, First_Time
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-08-14 Words: 3990
****** i found God, i found her in a lover ******
by pmcculers
Summary
     peggy and angie have known each other their whole lives, but only in
     their junior year in high-school they go from best friends to
     girlfriends.
     three months into their relationship, their first time together turns
     out to be a bit of a bumpy ride.
Notes
     this was just supposed to be a smutty thing, but then i had lots of
     feelings and it turned into an almost full history, i have absolute
     no control.
     if anyone wants to know more details about anything or would like for
     me to writer another chapter detailing something it was mentioned
     here, please feel free to ask. i might be in the mood to do it :)
     as always, feel free to come talk to me @ paigemcculers on tumblr or
     @pmcculers on twitter if you want :)
It’s been three months.
Three months since you’ve been officially dating Angie Martinelli, president of
the Drama Club and Captain of the varsity Volleyball Team – the team in school
with the most awards in the last three years, right after the Debate Team you
proudly lead.
You’ve known each other since elementary school, where you became inseparable
after Angie offered to share her crayons and coloring pencils with you when you
arrived late on the first day because of your father. Throughout the first
week, she’d glare with those striking, huge blue eyes and raise her lanky arms
threateningly at anyone who dared make fun of you because of the English accent
you had picked up from your grandmother and insisted on using as a reminder of
your dead mother.
Entering middle school, you fell into different paths and groups as you joined
different clubs. You watched from afar as scrawny, adorable, clumsy Angie began
to turn into a teenage-girl with a full, toned body, thanks to volleyball
training, and with an equally full and loud personality, courtesy of the new
ways of expressing herself she found in Drama Club – you remember wishing with
every fiber of your being that you were as close as you used to be.
13-year-old Angie Martinelli made you realize for the first time that you were
attracted to girls.
High-school came and your groups of friends began to intersect and you had
almost every single AP class with Angie. You picked your friendship back up
like you had never lost touch. Intercalating between spending the weekend at
your house and hers, you were caught up on each other’s lives in no time.
Listening to your father’s absentmindedly sexist remarks was way less terrible
when Angie began to spend the weekends because, before you could even muster up
the energy to berate him, she was already on a full rant, telling him how
insulting the way he expressed himself was and explaining exactly what was
wrong with his mentality.
Your crush on her grew immeasurably after the first time she did it and he
genuinely apologized. Your brother has yet to stop teasing you about how
enamored you looked that day.
On your first day back at Angie’s house, you were received with open arms by
her mom and her nonna. Her father was away, driving his truck to the other side
of the state to make a delivery, as you found out later he was more often than
not. Her brother had stayed at college that weekend since he had been home the
one before, and you met her 4-year-old sister, Giulia, for the first time.  You
two had a bumpy start, the little girl glared unwaveringly at you for almost
five whole minutes as her family fussed over you, until you tripped over their
fleeing cat on your way to greet her. She giggled adorably, jumped into your
arms and stayed glued to your side for the rest of the weekend.
It was a fight every weekend at Angie’s house after that for the two of you to
spend any time without the little girl. She reminded you too much of little
Angie and you found it hard to ever deny her anything she wanted.
In the summer between freshman and sophomore year, you were the first person
Angie told she thought she might be a lesbian.
You told her you were quite certain you were bisexual.
For the first half of sophomore year you dated a sweetheart named Steve, who
Angie tolerated even if she insisted at any given opportunity that you deserved
better. He’s just too damn nice and sweet to hate, but you’re too much for him,
English, she would say.
(She used to call you English when you were younger in the sweetest and most
protective way and it’s the only reason you still let her do it in high-school.
None of your friends ever even tried to use the nickname after you glared
heavily at their raised eyebrows when they heard Angie using it for the first
time.)
Steve was still small and a bit scrawny and you had already grown to your full
height, along with bigger than average boobs and thunder thighs. You made an
odd pair, but he was the perfect first boyfriend.
He was also the first person you ever had sex with and, for some reason, it
made Angie change her mind about the whole hating-him thing until you two broke
up before winter break. After that the three of you became great friends. 
Halfway through the second semester of sophomore year, Angie had her first
girlfriend, Linda, from her volleyball team. You despised Linda with every
fiber of your being, even if you could never explain exactly why when asked by
any of your friends. She was gorgeous, smart with a witty tongue and treated
Angie with the utmost respect.
You hated her guts, but were supportive. You knew how important her first
girlfriend was to Angie.
Two weeks after Angie told you about Linda, you started to date one of your
brother’s friends, a senior girl. Angie hated Dottie in a way she had never
hated Steve, and Dottie hated her right back. She was an extremely sensual and
assertive girl, who was borderline rude most of the time and who knew exactly
how hot she was. She was the exact opposite of Angie and exactly what you
wanted for a first girlfriend.
You and Angie came out to your families and friends together. You ignored the
way your heart jumped tellingly every time the stating of your sexualities was
followed by, so you guys are dating?, and the disappointed faces when you both
frantically negated it – your brother’s and nonnaAngelica’s faces were the
hardest to ignore.
Dottie broke up with you in the last day of school and you weren’t even
slightly sad. She would graduate in a few days and you knew it was coming.
Angie and Linda broke up on the second week of summer because Linda was moving
to the other side of the country with her family. Angie was heartbroken and you
tried everything you could think of to make her feel better. It turned out that
her comfort was your misery. After being with Dottie and realizing how amazing
it is to be with a girl, cuddling and touching and being close to Angie became
much more difficult, and you had to finally admit to yourself that your crush
on your best friend had not ceased to exist in the last two years, as hard as
you tried to ignore it.
Throughout that summer, you tried to convince Angie to go to one of the
thousand parties you were both invited to, but she would either convince you
instead to stay in, cuddle and watch TV shows or that you go alone. Those blue,
puppy-dog eyes and her pout were the easiest way in the world to disarm you.
The first party she agreed to go to, a week into your junior year, you only
drank water and stayed glued to her side, watching attentively as Angie got
drunk off her ass and became more touchy with you than you were able to deal
with while having no alcohol in your system. Later, you took her to your house,
held back her hair as she puked on your toilet and tucked her in, letting her
cuddle into you more closely than she ever had. The next day you got her
through her first hangover and she swore off parties.
Friday night parties became part of your weekend tradition and as Angie learned
to pace herself you began to drink with her.
Every single party, you were both invited to play Spin the Bottle or Seven
Minutes in Heaven, but you declined the invitations as quickly as you could
every time and usually led Angie towards Beer Pong – she was freakishly good at
it and it was fun to see the boys scowling as she entered the line.
Until the Sunday night party that declared the beginning of winter break, where
everything changed.
Before you could decline an invitation for Spin the Bottle, Angie was agreeing
to it and pulling you towards the circle in one of your friends’ living room.
You watched grumpily as a few girls, including one from your Debate Team, tried
to full on make out with Angie, and as Angie pulled away from boys who tried to
get more than a peck from her with a disgusted face. No girl or boy was able to
get more than an uninterested peck from you that night to the point that people
would groan unhappily when the bottle landed on you. You had thought the
weirdest part of the night would be when Steve, with his hands politely placed
at his own knees, was the one boy who got the tiniest bit more than a peck from
Angie and the way they both smiled warmly at each other as they pulled away.
But then the bottle landed on you on Angie’s turn. And Angie had smiled,
happily turned towards you and planted a lingering peck on your lips before
giggling and bouncing back to her spot. Your brain had stayed short-circuited
for the rest of the game because Angie had kissed you and you had barely been
able to enjoy the briefness of it, and you’d probably never get the chance to
again. That thought came to bite you in the ass when a few moments later
someone suggested Seven Minutes in Heaven; you had been ready to decline
playing it until you were paired up with Angie. That second time Angie had not
bounced happily or giggled, she had looked rather serious as she grabbed your
hand and pulled you over to the closet. As soon as the door closed, you tried
to give her an out, telling her she absolutely did not need to do anything, but
she just stared intently at you before pushing a hand into your hair and
pulling you into a kiss. You had ended up pressed against the door, her hands
in your hair and face, and yours around her waist, and you had kissed and
kissed until someone knocked on the door. As you pulled away a soft, I’ve
wanted to do this for so long, escaped your lips before your brain could catch
up and filter the words. You had stared at her wide-eyed and terrified, but
Angie had just smiled, pecked your lips and pulled you out from the closet.
That night Steve took each of you to your own houses and you proceeded to avoid
Angie like the plague. You got away with one full week and even part of the
weekend, until Sunday morning came around and Angie was knocking at your
bedroom door. After she yelled at you for about ten minutes, you talked about
everything; your feelings and how long exactly did ‘so long’ mean and where
Angie stood with her own feelings. That day she agreed to let you take her out
on a date and you agreed that you’d take things slow.
That was three months ago and now here you are in your bedroom, in your empty
house, Angie lying on top of you and your hands gripping her back tightly as
she kisses you hungrily.
And the two of you are about to have sex for the first time.
You had picked Angie from her volleyball practice and brought her back to your
house about an hour ago. She had showered, changed into a sports bra and
boyshorts, and you had been lazily making out in your bed when she whispered
against your lips that she was ready and wanted to have sex. After you asked
for the third time if she was a hundred percent certain, she just laughed,
pushed you back against the mattress and kissed you.
You’ve had sex before many times, with Steve, with Dottie and with a few one-
night stands, but the idea of it has never made you as nervous and excited as
you feel in this moment, your hands trailing down Angie’s toned back to grab
her ass and pull her closer to your body. A little, low whine sounds from the
back of her throat and you can’t help but smile against her lips. It earns you
a harsh tug on your hair and pointy teeth sinking on your bottom lip and it
makes you groan loudly – you store the reaction away in your mind so you can
elicit it again later.
 Angie starts trailing kisses down your neck as she shifts her hips, pressing
one of her thighs directly against your underwear-covered center. You take in a
shuddering breath and it’s her turn to smile against your neck. Using the leg
that’s not trapped between hers, you roll over, positioning yourself on top of
her, your legs intertwined. Angie smiles up at you and your heart stutters a
beat at the sight of her; hair sprawled over the pillow, looking up at you like
you’re the most important person in her life. She often gets that look on her
face and it never fails to make your stomach turn pleasantly.
Grabbing one of Angie’s hands and interlacing your fingers, you lean down to
give her a soft, long kiss before trailing your lips down her neck and to her
prominent collarbone. You close your lips around the skin just below the bone
and suck. Angie’s free hand flies up to grip at your hair and a quiet moan
leaves her lips before she starts panting softly. You trail your lips over her
chest and nip at the parts of her breasts that are left exposed by the sports
bra until you decide that it needs to go. Shifting until you’re straddling
Angie’s thighs, you grab her forearms and help her up into a sitting position.
Using the hand still tangled in your hair, she pulls you into another hungry
kiss, like she can’t stand to have her lips separated from yours for too long –
in the last three months you’ve found out Angie is a huge fan of kissing, huge.
Middle kiss, she sneaks her hands under your loose t-shirt and tugs it up. You
pull away with raised eyebrows, but Angie just grins and tugs at it again,
prompting you to raise your arms so she can pull it off. Once the garment is
off, she stares unabashedly for a full minute before cupping your breasts and
attaching her lips to your neck. You grab a hold of her waist and you can feel
the way her whole body shivers when you breathe a moan against her ear after
she nips at the skin behind your ear. When you run your hands up her sides
slowly until you reach the hem of her sports bra, Angie pulls away, panting
against your lips, and, as you lock your eyes with her sparkling ones, she nods
with a wide grin.
After taking it off, you keep your eyes locked as you cup both her breasts,
your thumbs making slow circles around her nipples. Angie’s eyes flicker shut
and she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth; you feel your underwear getting
wetter at her ecstatic face. Placing a hand on her back, you slow her back down
into the bed. You peck her lips before inching back down towards her chest.
You’ve seen Angie completely topless before and the two of you had definitely
played around second-base, but this feels different. You always want to make
her feel good, but this time you want to even more.
As soon as you wrap your lips around her left nipple, Angie’s back rises
slightly from the bed and one of her hands grabs at the bed sheet. Her mouth
falls open when you run your tongue over her nipple at the same time you press
a hand against her stomach to keep her down. You trace your fingers over the
muscles of her abs while working from one breast to another, and choked, panted
breaths keep leaving her lips. As you’re trailing your lips down her torso,
Angie’s hand tangles on your hair again and she pulls softly. With your lips
still connected to her skin, you look up to find her with her eyes closed,
mouth hanging open while soft, little whines sound from the back of her throat,
urging you to keep going.
Instead, you rack your teeth over her belly-button and smile up at Angie when
she shrieks and a high-pitched giggle leaves her lips in between her panting.
Smiling back down at you brightly, she cups your face and runs her thumb over
your cheekbone. You turn your head and kiss the palm of her hand before
slipping a finger under the hem of her boyshorts and tugging at it. Angie
hesitates for a beat before nodding slowly. You try to smile reassuringly at
her as your own stomach twists in knots.
“If at any moment you want me to stop, you tell me.” You wait until her face
relaxes and she nods again before slowly pulling her boyshorts down, your eyes
unwaveringly locked into hers.
As soon as you slip the underwear through her feet, you pat around the mattress
until you find her right hand and grab it tightly. You wait until she squeezes
back before you lean down to plant a kiss against her ankle and start your
trail up her leg. When you reach the inside of her knee, Angie’s panting gets
louder and heavier and you squeeze her hand in reassurance, but continue on.
However, as you nip your way through her inner-thigh she starts wheezing and
squeezes your hand with a breaking grip.
“Darling, are yo-“ You look up to find Angie staring at you wide-eyed, the hand
that’s not trying to break yours rubbing at her sternum as the wheezing gets
more frantic as she tries to pull some air into her lungs. Startled, you jump
from your position in between her legs and scramble to go kneel by her side.
“Angie! What’s happening? What do I do?” Your hands hover over her body
uselessly as you will your brain to kick back in. The context is new, but
you’re certain the situation is not. The difficulty to breathe, the chest
rubbing, even Angie’s terrified expression as she tries to get words out, even
though her lungs are empty; it all feels very familiar.
Asthma attack.  Angie’s asthmatic, your brain kicks in.
“Angie, please tell me you have your inhaler with you,” you plead, cupping her
cheek softly. She nods frantically as relief washes over her face. She points
at her duffel bag slung over your desk-chair and you place another pillow under
her head to propel her up, and try and clear her airway a bit, before
scrambling towards it.
Cursing at every new thing you pull from her duffel bag that is not her inhaler
– the top and shorts she uses as pajamas, a dress, underwear, textbooks,
notebooks and one too many pair of socks -, when you finally get to the bottom
and find the inhaler tucked into a corner, you almost think about sending a
prayer up above.  Instead, you rush back to her side and hand her the inhaler
before helping her sit up.  As soon as she is upright, you slip between her
body and the headboard of your bed and pull her back against your front. You
feel it on your chest when Angie breathes from her inhaler once and then again
a minute later. When she finally manages to breathe on her own, she slumps back
against your body and you wrap your arms tightly around her.
The only other time you remember feeling this scared was when Angie sprained
her ankle in the middle of a match last year. She was crying so hard when they
carried her to the bench that you were afraid something worst had happened. It
turned out she was crying because she knew she wouldn’t be able to go back to
playing that match, not because the injury hurt that bad. At the memory, you
can’t help the laugh that bursts through your lips and Angie turns around in
your arms to look at you with furrowed brows.
“Shite, you scared the crap outta me,” you mumble against her cheek as you pull
her even closer. At her softly whispered, Sorry, you place a lingering kiss on
her cheek before saying, “I don’t remember you having one of those since you
were nine.”
“It hasn’t happened since eighth grade,” she mumbles and her cheeks turn a
pretty pink tone. “It’s just when I’m really nervous or sometimes when I try
new…activities for the first time.”
“Which was it this time?” you ask softly, tracing your fingers soothingly over
her arms.
“Both, probably,” she admits, shooting you a guilty look, “I really wanted to-
I really want to have sex with you, but I’m really nervous.” You place another
kiss on her cheek before pressing your forehead against hers and nudging her
nose softly with yours.
“It’s ok. I really want to as well and I’m really nervous, too,” you breathe
against her lips. “But it’s a good nervous. Is yours the bad kind?” Angie
hesitates for a second and her cheeks and the tip of her ears flush a deeper
color.
“Not really, just a “I can’t wait to feel all the things you’re gonna make me
feel and then return the favor” kind of nervous.” At your wide smile, she rolls
her eyes. “Not that it matters, as mood-killers go having an asthma attack is
probably pretty high up there.” It’s your turn to roll your eyes before you
press your face into her neck and rack your teeth through her pulse point.
“I can’t speak for you, but my mood is very much alive.” A shuddering breath
leaves Angie’s lips as yours make their way up to her jaw. “The way I see it,
you’re alright now; still very much naked and so, sohot.” Your right hand
settles over stomach as the left one cups a breast eagerly. “If you still feel
like it, we can pick it right up from where we stopped,” you mumble against her
ear before taking her earlobe into your mouth.
“Ye-yeah?” she pants, reaching up to tangle a hand into your hair, “I’d
really,really like that.”
Smirking widely at how quickly Angie’s gone right back to the flustered state
she was in before, you trail the hand that was cupping her breast up her
shoulder and then down her arm until you can grab her inhaler from her hand.
“We’ll just leave this here,” you say, placing the inhaler on your nightstand,
“and if you need it again, we’ll just stop and you can reach it. Yeah?” you ask
as you slowly - almost torturously so – inch your hand down her stomach until
you can feel the pubic hair above her center.
“Yeah!” Angie basically yelps and you muffle a chuckle against her neck. “That
sounds super, yes, great,” she rambles before tugging you by the hair into a
sloppy, messy kiss. When you laugh against her lips, she pulls firmly on your
hair as she sinks her teeth on your bottom lip in a harsh bite.
Angie moans quietly when your fingers finally find her clit and circle it a few
times, and then whines on the back of her throat when you refuse to maintain
the contact, instead making wide circles around it and only occasionally
touching it directly. By the way she keeps making low noises while also
insisting on keeping your lips glued, you figure it’s a fair guess that she
won’t be in need of her inhaler again today.
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