Lessons in Rule Breaking and Other Reader-Inserts*Steve Rogers*Reader*

If You Stumble... Pt.2/3

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The dancehall Steve led you in was... stunning. Not vast, which suited the fact there were only five other pairs in the room, one of them clearly being professionals judging by their choice of clothes; your lecturers.

The parquet floor appeared to be polished just minutes ago, nearly reflecting the lights. The interior was subtly decorated, stripe of weak light bulbs, the old-looking ones that you only knew from pictures, always lining out the title of movies outside of cinema. Several Chinese lanterns were hanging from the ceiling, drowning the room in moody crimson. You half-expected a band dressed in white tuxedos standing along the wall, but there was only table with a gramophone; the room was too small for that, you assumed. It still stole breath from your lungs as you casted a glance at Steve, absolutely astonished.

What... how... how?

He leaned to your ear and for a second you thought he was about to break character and explain. He did only one of those things.

"You'd be surprised at what people enjoy these days, miss. Little trips to the past every now and then..." he hummed indefinitely and you just shook your head, unable to respond.

Guess he wasn't wrong. It still astounded you; how had he found the place? And how had he managed to accomplish the lack of staring from the other attendants?

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, in Charles' dance hall. Tonight, we're starting with foxtrot," the man you had previously identified – correctly – greeted you. "As I see several new faces here, I'd like to remind you what is the most important part of making the dance resemble a dance. Your stance. The way you hold yourself."

Well. Now you knew why you never had been good at dancing.

He demonstrated the starting position with the woman in lovely flowing silver dress. You gulped and tried to imitate her.

Yours and Steve's feet lined up, your bodies below your waists rather close. His wide palm sat between your shoulder blades, perhaps an inch lower. Swallowing your panic when meeting his reassuring smile, you reluctantly leaned back into his touch.

"The key of course, is also partnership. Ladies, I need you to trust your partner and lean some of your weight onto his hand. He won't drop you. Lean backwards a bit, tilt your head back slightly and turn your head an inch to your left. You'll be watching your left upper corner, just in case you'd like to escape there."

You chuckled at the silly little joke, the tension falling from your shoulders. You knew Steve wouldn't drop you; but there was a difference between leaning onto his body as he held you and practically turn aside from him.

"I wouldn't drop you, miss. I promise," he mouthed and you fought the urge to roll your eyes.

Well. You didn't really have a choice, did you?

With a deep exhale, you followed the lecturers' example. Steve seemed perfectly content, not even a trace of strain on his face as he supported your weight.

Of course, you dummy, he can probably lift a car or something. One-handedly.

"Eyes to your left, lady in blue."

You bit your lip when you were called out, but obeyed. It was dizzying, but you could tell it was mostly because of the foreign and very ridiculous fear of letting Steve take control.

"Perfect. Now, let's move to the actual steps..."

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The actual steps weren't that hard; at least the basic ones. Yet, you and Steve both listened and watched intently, trying to absorb all the new info.