Cap Quartet One Shots (Romanogers)

The one with the dance (pt2)

a/n: make the most of me being active cause I'll probs forget soon. any requests or ideas pls lmk x

With a sigh, I say, "Okay, then." A hint of a smile flashes over his face, but he covers it up almost as quickly as it appeared. I've subconsciously started coiling the hair around my finger tighter; old habits die hard, I guess.

Before I realise that it's actually beginning to cut off my circulation, Steve reaches up and gently takes a hold of my hand. What feels like lightning immediately courses through my arm, making my heart beat all the faster. He lowers my hand, freeing the strand I was twisting. I look up at him; he's smiling at me.

He lets go of my hand, and says, "Let me take your drink," proceeding to place them over in the corner, freeing up our hands for the dance. I look around the room: everyone is in a partner and I accidentally make eye contact with Tony, who looks like he's about to pair me up with some bozo.

I rush over to Steve and quickly take his forearm. I don't have time to think about how warm my face gets at the contact, but I look back over to Tony, who's luckily looking elsewhere.

"Sorry, I -" I begin to stammer out my words, trying to explain that I don't want Tony to think I'm alone for the evening.

"Natasha," he says smoothly, "Slow down, it's okay." Before I can respond, the speakers start booming with Tony's ridiculous 'show' voice again.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it looks like you're all partnered up!," he begins, and I could swear that he winks at me and Steve. What's Pepper told him? I focus on composing myself, bottling up my emotions so as not to make them visible, and before I know it the music has started. Immediately everything I've just shoved down - the longing, the daydreaming, all of it - rises to the surface when Steve says, "May I have this dance?" With a small smile on his face.

"You may," I reply, with the same smile.

Everyone begins positioning themselves, ready for the band to really kick in.

"Is it okay if I, uh," he gestures towards my waist.

"Uh, yeah, yeah," I reply, equally as awkward. I don't know why it's like this between us, it shouldn't be. Was he asking because of my scar? No, surely he wouldn't remember that. I showed him that bullet scar almost a year ago, and it's totally healed, it just looks gross on me. I still remember his words when he saw it, 'bye, bye, bikinis.' It still plays on my mind.

He places his hand on my waist, and holds my other one. I reach up - has he always been this tall? - and put my free hand on his shoulder. We step closer together, and I hope he can't tell that my breathing has changed ever since he touched my waist.

And then, like a miracle, the band starts properly playing. All at once the room begins to move in the same directions, and I remember that I have no idea what I'm doing. I'd tried not to think about the actually dance, I was too focussed on who I'd be dancing with.

Steve notices my confusion in an instant; my feet are all over the place.

"Hey," he says, "Follow my lead." He nods downward, and I do what he says. He starts slowly, repeating the same steps, and then speeds up to match the rest of the room. The whole time, I'm acutely aware of his eyes on me, quietly smiling as I pick up the steps. I hate to admit it, but I might be... enjoying this? Ugh. I will never fail to underestimate Steve's effect on the people around him. Especially me. After a couple of minutes of hearing Steve laugh whenever I step on his foot, I get into the rhythm, and realise it's all just another pattern, repeating itself.

"See, you got it," he says, and I look back at him, not needing to follow his steps anymore. His smile is comforting, and I laugh a little back.

"Yeah, it's not so bad," I smile. After a few moments of eye contact, the band switches up the tempo, becoming much slower all of a sudden, and giving me an excuse to look away from Steve's eyes. It's like I was holding my breath, drowning in the sea-blue of his eyes. We haven't moved from our position, but looking around the room, it's turned into a slow dance type of thing. My heart speeds up just at the thought of it, and I can't tell if it's in a good or a bad way.

"You okay?" Steve asks, at the same time as Tony says over the room, "That's it guys, you already know what time it is!"

I guess it's not optional, then. I nod in response to Steve, and place a smile on my face. He sees through me in an instant.

"Are you cold, do you want my jacket?" he asks, intently concerned. I'm too warm, if anything, but he's being so kind tonight I can't turn him down, can I?

"Uh, yeah, that would be nice," I say. He lets go of my waist and hand, and I feel even colder. Smoothly slipping off his suit jacket, it reveals his crisp white shirt, clinging to his arms just the same. I look away from his face as he swoops his jacket around my arms, leaving it to rest on my shoulders. I've tried to pretend not to care that it's the slower part of the evening, but as he always does, Steve notices my disquietness, and gives me a look that I can easily translate. I give him a small smile and nod. The conversations that we have through our eyes say more than words ever could.

He glances around the room, and slowly moves into the position the rest of the men are holding. I do the same, and our limbs slot into place like puzzle pieces. My breath hitches for just the smallest moment when his hands make contact with my waist; he notices, of course, and loosens his touch.

"It's okay," I say, looking up at him. The band continue playing, as my hands are hooked just behind his shoulders. We begin to match the pace of the room, swaying slowly. As a pair, we look out of place in this room full of investing old men, but in his arms I've never felt more safe. After a minute or so, I move my hands to join behind his neck, just below his hairline. He takes an almost unnoticeable step towards me, and I do the same. Before I know it, we're chest to chest, and I can feel his torso rise and sink with every long breath. I spend some time trying to match my breathing to his - a habit of mine since I was small - but since he's a super solider, his lungs must be enhanced too, and can therefore hold much more air than mine can. I end up almost gasping for breath, and he laughs.

"Were you trying to.." he begins.

"Possibly," I reply, feeling his chest move with the laughter. I return my breathing to normal, and the band continues to play the same tune. If I were with anyone else right now, I'd be complaining for them to play something different, to mix it up a bit, but with Steve the thoughts don't dare to cross my mind.

Interlocking my fingers tighter behind his head, I boldly rest my head on his chest, just by his collarbone. He takes a slightly faster breath in, but then returns to his natural pace. I feel him hesitate for just a moment, and then the presence of his chin on my head. All at once it's like everything else in the room, all the people, all the walls, the bar, everything - disappears. Everything seems to fade away, until it's just me and him in our insignificant corner of the dance floor, the lights flickering around us. Closing my eyes, I try and etch every part of this moment into my memory. We're swaying so slowly, I can't even tell if we're moving. It doesn't matter though, nothing does.

"Natasha." I feel the vibration of his chest as he speaks. The weight of his chin has gone, and I lift my head from where it rests on him. I look at him and he nods to the rest of the room. Couples have dispersed, the band music has changed to background music again, and there's hardly anyone left on the dance floor. I release my hands slowly from where they are behind his head, running them around his neck and loosely down his chest. His expression doesn't change, but his breathing does. I should know. He releases my waist, but before his hands could return to his side or his trouser pockets, I take them in mine, lightly holding his fingers. He doesn't resist.

I walk backwards off the edge of the dance floor, back to where we were stood before. He does that smile again - the one that makes my heart speed up and my stomach flip over. I smile at him with an expression I hope he understands.

"I should probably return this jacket to where it belongs," I say, not looking away.

"Yeah, I think it needs to be pressed again," he says. "Can't do that here though." Judging by his gaze, I know he understands. Letting go of one of his hands, I take his jacket from my shoulders and hook it over one.

"I think the night's finishing up," I say, just trying to make conversation.

"I agree," Steve says. "You wanna head downstairs, sort that jacket out?" We exchange a knowing smile.

"Follow my lead," I reply, and his expression says it all as we approach the elevator.