A/N: I know, I know! It seems like these keep getting shorter! This is one of the shortest ones, though, and after this they'll start getting longer for a little while. Thank you SO much to all the followers, favoriters, and reviewers. I'm truly honored that you guys have thought my story worth expending effort on. :) Also, We're already halfway through! Can you believe it?
10. Who makes coffee for the other in the morning?
Steve makes it. He likes to get up early.
Steve rolled over and sttrreettched. After a moment he lifted his head to look at Peggy and he was glad to notice that (for once) he hadn't stolen all the covers; she remained cozily on her side of the bed. Careful not to wake her, Steve got out of bed and grabbed a sweatshirt, pulling it on as he left the room.
It was only 6:00, but the kitchen was tinted with the rosy colors of sunrise. Steve had the sudden urge to get his watercolors out, so he changed his course and went to the hall closet. He eased the door open and surveyed the mess of art supplies that were perched precariously on the shelves. It had, once upon a time, been organized neatly into all the different kinds of paper, pencils, brushes, and other tools, and for a while Peggy tried to keep it that way, but after the twenty-somethingth time that Steve had rummaged through the cabinet and completely destroyed her organizational system, Peggy gave up. That being said, Peggy still couldn't stand how he kept the closet, and, any time she saw him open it and catch the one or two items that inevitably rolled off the shelves, she simply made a frustrated grunt and walked away.
Steve, however, knew where everything was and, after making only a minimal amount of noise, he managed to gather his watercolor supplies. Heading back to the kitchen, he set the paper on the table along brushes of various sizes and about three different paint palettes. Getting the rest of what he needed very quickly, he sat down to paint, trying to catch the way the light slanted over the neighboring rooftop just right.
He sat there, his brush moving over the paper – now in short choppy dashes, now in long smooth strokes – until the angle of the light changed and the colors shifted from pink, to yellow, to blue. He sighed. The sun always rose too quickly for his taste: he could never get it quite right. He'd just have to fill in the rest of it later. He stretched in his chair and heard Peggy stir in the other room. He froze.
A less than polite word went through his mind as he whipped his head to look at the clock: 7:08. He was supposed to make the coffee! He had been working for longer than he thought. Thankful that coffee was extremely easy to make, Steve sprang up and started the process, still knowing it wouldn't be quite ready when Peggy got up. Oh well, he thought. Maybe she would accept his painting as an apology.
P.S. So, quick question. I have a whole list of OTP questions that didn't make it into this story. I haven't written one-shots for them (and I don't really plan to), but I have given answers to them. Would you guys like to see them as a bonus chapter at the end?
Next up: Who hogs the blanket?