Harringrove One-Shots

Not what I expected (I'm not complaining)

The dirty blond handed Steve his drink and cupped her hands around his ear, "That chick - the one I was dancing with," she pulled away and shook her head.

"Huh?"

She made a gesture with her hands.

Oh .

The two laughed, leaning closer before Steve whispered, "It can't smell that bad...can it?"

She shrugged; they downed their drinks before heading towards the dance floor again. Wiggling ourselves between the squished bodies, coming to a small clearing. They danced, moves unprofessional and dumb, but fun. A song came on and Robin squealed, "OH! I love this song!"

She moved away from Steve and danced like there was no tomorrow, shaking her hips and throwing her arms to the sky, her grey sequin dress shined beneath the club lights. The bracelets on her wrist jingled as she moved, carding a seductive hand through her hair.

Steve laughed, throwing his head back and falling into a rhythm, doing his best to mimic her moves. He would never be as bold as Robin, but he sure as hell could try. The brunette let myself dissolve into the music, the energy of the club. No one cared if you could dance, they cared if you could hang.

It didn't matter how good you looked, but how much confidence you leaked. How much power. Robin was the epitome of that, Steve was not, but maybe, just for tonight, he could be.

Suddenly, a hand gently tugged at his waist, he followed the arm and it was attached to a beautiful stranger. Tall, dark, and handsome.

Steve allowed him to pull him close to him, feeling his heat radiate through his body. They moved together, and the stranger kept a steady hand on his waist, the other hand brushing against Steve's arms occasionally. He raised his arms upwards, cradling his neck and pushing himself further against the male. His head fell to the brunette's neck, and Steve smirked. He looked over to find Robin in a similar position. A new stranger glued themselves to her, the best friends winked at each other.

This was going to be a good night, if only he knew...

Steve and the hot stranger danced a little while longer before he leaned into his ear and whispered, voice a low rumble, "I'll be back, don't go too far."

Steve gave him a seductive smile and watched as he walked away.

Robin pulled him close to her, "We are definitely getting it tonight," she gushed. Steve laughed at her.

Again, he let himself dissolve into the dance floor. But then he felt it, he felt those eyes.

Steve assumed it was just that guy, but there was nobody there. Just this feeling, this feeling of being watched, of being prayed on.

He looked around, trying to find the source of this gaze. The brunette found no one, instead, he focused back on the dance floor. However, the stare did not falter. No , it grew stronger.

He raked his eyes over the crowd, ignoring the questioning looks from Robin.

And there, tucked away on the top floor, drink in hand, spread out on a velvet couch, there he was. Power and heat rolled off of him. Steve stared up at him, not quite catching his eyes, but he could feel them on him, on his body. Steve shivered.

This man, powerful , was dangerous.

He danced on, acting as if it didn't bother him, but it did. The intensity of his eyes burned, so Steve turned to face him once more.

He was sipping on his drink, nonchalant and casual. Posture relaxed and poise, he was surrounded by others, but he was the only one Steve could focus on. His eyes locked on the brunettes, and a shudder ran through him. He was unable to look away, those piercing eyes daring Steve to look anywhere but him, to cast his glance anywhere else. His hands grew sweaty, this man, from way across the club, was making him nervous. His gaze set Steve aflame, eyes raking over him slowly, deliberately.