Pete/Kitty
Until the wee hours of the morning, Pete had been up to his eyeballs in S.H.I.E.L.D. intel and a bottle of liquor. He was trying to fill in any blanks with what MI-13 knew. By the time he looked up the sun was rising and the print of Degas ballerinas Kitty gave him started look like they really were dancing. A brief pass out and a shower made him feel almost new again.
He knew he should try being social too, but he failed miserably at it. He was the human equivalent of a rusty cheese grater in social situations, and he figured no one would miss him if he kept his nose to the grindstone.
Still, he thought about Kitty pretty often. Asking Friday where she was, he eventually walked into the kitchen wearing the basic rumpled spook suit, minus the jacket.
There was a nod of approval at the music before he sat down across from where she was cooking and dancing. It was pretty secluded in the apartments, even if they had their own kitchens. She must be feeling as cooped up as he was by the looks of it.