Office Hours, Saturday

[screwyoumarvel]

Anyone looking for Steve would find a sign on his door redirecting them to the art classroom, where he'd pinned up some of the pieces the students had done so far, so their guests could see their work. Tony's blobs of color work was even represented, even if his lack of artistic skill did give Steve almost physical pain. How could someone who was so good at drafting a design be so bad at drawing a straight line?

Steve was at his desk with a box of pastries from J,GoB and a fresh pot of coffee, ready to greet anyone who stopped in, and hoping his own guest would stop lurking about the island generally being Buckyesque and stop by at some point, too.

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[screwyoumarvel]

"Well," Steve said, regaining his composure. "You know I would never leave a lady hanging like that if I could help it." Especially not her.

[doesnotfondue.livejournal.com]

Peggy offered him a hand. She felt... ridiculous? Very silly, in some way. She didn't show it. "But seeing that I'm alive--" And not old, but she couldn't even think about that, "--and so are you, you should make up for it."

[screwyoumarvel]

"I should," Steve agreed, reaching out to take her hand. "May I have this dance?"

Never mind that there wasn't any music. That was a minor detail.

[doesnotfondue.livejournal.com]

Peggy smiled a little bigger this time. "I suppose you may," she said.

The music didn't matter.