#whitney is undergrad in theater and graduate in quantum physics somehow. dottie is studying ballet but she does like six kinds of dance.

[tenderjock]

i'm your best nightmare [agent carter college au]

inspired by this post & i'm tagging @redvanillabee because i need more michaeljack in my life

: :

There's a man he doesn't know talking to Peggy when Michael gets back with their drinks. He gives the fellow a semi-automatic once-over: designer jeans, a rugby that's never seen a rugby pitch, and loafers with no socks. Typical preppy American university boy. Michael slides in next to Peggy and hands over her whiskey sour, which she takes without looking.

"This is my brother," she says. "Michael, this is Jack. We're in a class together." The implication, from her tone, being that she had hoped that they would never meet outside of that class. Jack does not acknowledge the introduction with even a glance.

"C'mon, it'll b'fun," he says - slurs, really. He's much too drunk to be hitting on Michael's little sister, or really to be doing anything other than sitting down and drinking water. Michael takes a slug from his own ale. "A lotta the other law students'll b'there."

"Not interested," Peggy says firmly.

Jack ponders that for an inebriated moment. "Is't okay if I ask your brother?" he asks, finally. Michael straightens up, surprised to be pulled into the conversation.

"Sure," she says.

Michael is transfixed as Jack turns to him. His eyes are a little bloodshot and they're definitely not tracking properly, but they are placed in a face that is - well, he's cute. And Michael has a track record of liking arrogant little maladjusted pricks.

Jack opens his mouth, then closes it. He sighs. "No," he says, shaking his head mournfully. "I am not drunk enough t'go for a dude. But," he points a finger in Michael's face, getting uncomfortably close to his nose, "You look like an angel."

Michael doesn't know what his face is doing. Peggy snorts.

"A'right," Jack says. He clasps both of them on the shoulder and dips his head forward. "I'll see you 'round, Carter. Carters." The plural seems to confuse him for a beat, then he recovers. "Adios, auf Wiedersehen, aloha!" He blows one of them - it's unclear which one - a kiss and stumbles away, narrowly missing the doorframe as he goes.

"Oh, Peggy," Michael says, watching him go. "I want one."

"You'd only break him," Peggy says, and takes a sip of her drink.