In a world full of hatred fueled by misunderstanding, Janie somehow found a way to make sense of Steve. It was hard, following a man who so often had to put his life on the line for the sake of the greater good, but she'd quickly come to learn that it was worth it, because doing for him what he'd done for her was a task she knew she could only complete if she stayed.
Frustrating were days on which she didn't know whether or not the man was even alive, frustrating were the times that the look in his eyes showed he really wasn't alright, even after coming back from a successful mission. Unsatisfied with the result, perhaps, but primarily unhappy with himself and the things he sometimes had to do to ensure the mission's completion. Murder was something Steve would never be okay with.
He called her when he found himself in his motel room late at night, lying in a pool of his own sweat after another terrifying nightmare. He was in the ice again, that's the way his nightmares always started; cold, dark, and most importantly, alone. He could feel the ice on his fingertips when he clawed at the sheets, his breath nearly coming out in puffs of smoke until the realization of where he was would finally set in.
He would call so he could listen to her talk about mindless, meaningless shit just long enough for him to feel okay again. Sometimes she'd stop mid-sentence, only to discover he'd fallen asleep with his phone tucked between his shoulder and his ear while breathing softly into the microphone. She'd listen for a while, always making sure he was really asleep, before hanging up the phone and holding it to her chest while she fell into slumber herself.
Neither of them knew when the interactions between them had changed. It was a sort of unspoken, mutual understanding between two individuals, an ever-growing fondness that came naturally to both of them. She brought out his patience, he brought out her curiosity. Steve found himself enjoying 21st-century luxury, while Janie learned to appreciate being off the grid.
Even now, sometimes Steve didn't show up to the dinner table, even though it had taken Janie two hours and ten YouTube video's to create that evening's casual dinner for two. She'd sit in her tiny dining area alone, staring at the empty plate beside hers while she would mindlessly jab her fork into the concoction in front of her. Sometimes he would come, but the same feeling would arise when he had to leave before dessert.
The phone he kept on him at all times would ring and a minute later, he would be gone, leaving nothing but a jumble of apologies and compliments about the food behind, along with the inevitable fear that his departure would be the last time she would ever see him. Sometimes, it would take days for the phone to ring. Sometimes, he'd call the same night. The conversations were mostly the same; him telling her she was fine, followed by more apologies and promises he knew he couldn't keep if it really came down to it. Regardless, she appreciated those calls, because they made falling asleep at night a less daunting task.
Janie was only supposed to have a single drink.
A glass of champagne at midnight to ring in the new year, a symbolic way of allowing all past events to become just that; the past. It didn't really mean anything, because time was linear, always moving forward and never repeating itself, and yet somehow, December 31st came every 364 days and every single time, one drink would turn into one bottle turned into forgotten memories.
The party started as early as 8 and would most likely continue until deep into the night. Strange faces left and right littered what was normally the new Avengers' workspace, rainbow-colored disco lights bouncing off of the personnel and their plus ones while they danced to a playlist that included music from the 80s, 90s, and early 2000s. The ironic lyrics of Cher's If I Could Turn Back Time were a real hit, both men and women sang along at the top of their lungs while drinks continued to leave the bar at a rapid pace.
Even Natasha could be seen having a good time, a sly smile on her lips while she sipped her dirty martini. She'd decided to forget about Bruce tonight, even though she missed him dearly. It was hard, but the alcohol would help.
One drink at midnight was the plan, but by 10:30, Janie had already downed half a bottle of Pinot Grigio, courtesy of Mariah. The two women got along surprisingly well, one stuck in a man's world and the other completely out of the one she was currently in. The way they talked to each other about their lives, stories completely different in plot yet similar in storyline, and how they found ways to track down common ground was refreshing for both of them. Natasha sat beside them, listening in on their conversation and offering the occasional comment.
Music filled her ears after the transition from one song to the next. Janie took a sip from her drink, sparkling lip gloss staining the edge of the elongated glass a pearly shade of light pink. Bubbles raised to the surface while her body slowly swayed to the music, her eyes searching for him. He'd excused himself not long ago, said he needed to say hello to some people. He asked her to come along, but she offered to stay with Mariah by the bar. She didn't plan on drinking so much, but her nerves caused her to give in to temptation.
It had taken her nearly three hours to get ready. Janie never dressed up for anything, but Steve begged her to come to the first-ever Avengers New Year's Eve party and so she complied, spending all morning scouring the nearest mall for a formal dress to wear and the rest of the afternoon to get herself ready for the evening. Her dress, floor-length, lavender-colored chiffon had been the last thing she put on after slightly curling her hair and applying a light layer of makeup to her face. For once, she actually cared about her appearance.
"Hey you," a voice so close she could feel its vibration in her spine suddenly made its presence known, "ladies."
A hand on her lower back, rougher and needier than usual interrupted her thought process, but her reaction was delayed by the alcohol running its course through her system. She turned around slowly, steadying herself before looking up to meet his face. The gigantic clock pulled up on one of the LED flat screens told her it was 11:46, only fourteen minutes left until midnight.
"You're back already," she stated exasperatedly, "hey."
He wore a suit; black pants over a white button-down. His tie sat crooked over his chest, the jacket he'd been wearing when they first got there had been discarded and the top button on his blouse looked like it could fly open any moment. His eyes were no longer their normal shade of light blue, but pink from the reflection of the lights. He was never a party guy but decided to have fun tonight.
"Of course I am," Steve replied, "had to find you before midnight."
Janie's stomach clenched when his facial hair, a slight stubble, tickled the side of her face when he leaned down to speak into her ear. His cologne, the bottle of Dior's Sauvage Natasha had given him for his last birthday penetrated her nostrils, making her eyes flutter shut when she inhaled. He pulled away too soon, asking the bartender for a drink. She quickly adjusted the hem of her lavender-colored chiffon dress, straightening out the fabric with her free hand while she sipped her drink with the other.
She watched Steve down at least three full glasses of whiskey back to back. He was dying to feel that blissful buzz when the alcohol slid down his throat, but the serum had already fought off the alcohol before it could even enter his bloodstream. He could feel sweat pooling under his arms and silently prayed his Old Spice would do its job tonight. While he watched her drink, his brain went looking for signs. He needed them, for he wouldn't be able to do what he was about to do without them.
Natasha had been bugging him about it for weeks. Every time he'd leave the compound without letting anyone know where he'd be going, she knew. She teased him about it on missions, even when he begged her to stay silent. He should've expected it. Natasha, being a trained spy, could see through people as if she could see through glass and Steve wasn't a particularly difficult read. Make a move, she told him, utterly convinced he would lose his shot if he'd keep up the charade for too long.
Women like a man who takes control, she'd told him. Whether that was true or not, Steve didn't know, because the only woman besides his mother he'd ever come close to being in love with died not long ago and he'd never been a ladies' man. Bucky was always the one flirting with the dames, not him. Either way, Steve was about to find out what Janie liked because even he had grown tired of his own game.
He was going to kiss her.
"Four.. three.. two... one.. happy new year!"
Screams erupted through the compound when the clock hit twelve. Bottles of champagne created loud popping noises, followed by the unmistakable sound of fizzing liquid splashing on the linoleum floors and onto people's clothes.
Janie didn't get a chance to get a good look at the spectacle from where she stood, because suddenly, Steve placed his hand on her chin. He pulled her head away from the show and towards his face, which was twisted in a frown. She could see the fear in his eyes when they met hers, but that didn't stop him from lowering his head down towards hers.
The drink in her hand slowly began to tilt when his lips closed in on her own, liquid nearly spilling out of the side of the glass when she felt his breath fanning across her face. The scent of scotch was heavy on his breath, even though Steve was far away from being tipsy, let alone drunk.
Waiting for him to finally kiss her was pure anguish. With her heart hammering inside her and pupils wide as saucers, Janie swallowed hard. She placed her free hand on his chest to steady herself, grabbing onto his tie to stop herself from tripping over her own feet. She mentally cursed herself for wearing heels, because if she'd learned one thing from college it was that heels and alcohol don't mix.
Masculinity radiated off of his presence while he towered over her, his perfectly coiffed hair falling over his right eyebrow while he leaned further down. The anticipation killed her when his lips hovered so closely over hers she could practically taste them on her tongue, adrenaline rushing through her brain from how close he was.
She pulled him down finally, yanking his tie down until she finally got what she wanted; Steve's lips pressed against her own in a kiss so hungry she thought he was starving. His skin melted against hers, sending ripples of unfamiliar heat through his lower belly when he tasted the champagne on her lips. He felt her lip gloss, sticky and sweet against his mouth while his hand moved toward her lower back. Janie let go of the tie around his neck, allowing her free hand to rest atop Steve's chest as she surrendered to him.
They were so close, closer than the two of them had ever been before. It felt like a dream, fluorescent lights bouncing off of Steve's watch when his grip tightened on her, instrumental dance music empowering the air between them.
He looked at her with widened pupils after they pulled apart, but didn't get much time to take in her swollen lips or heated cheeks, because she pulled him into a hug that subsequently hid her face from him. He laughed, chest rumbling when he hugged her back, before taking her in to kiss her again.
Sobering up had never been easier, with the dark scent of Steve's cologne and his hand pressed up against her skin. The party was in full swing now, strobe lights angrily bouncing off the walls and windows while the music was turned up louder.
She took his hand in hers and began to drag him towards the dance floor. He hesitated at first, a voice in his head telling him he couldn't dance to save his life, but when he saw the gleam in her eyes and anticipation on her face, Steve knew he couldn't say no. Praying she was too drunk to notice how stiff he was on the dance floor, he followed her into the crowd, focusing on the warmth and daintiness of her hand inside of his instead of the idea of him dancing.
"Go faster," Janie shouted, giggling when Steve picked up the pace almost instantly.
With both her arms wrapped securely around his neck and his grip on her legs tighter than steel, he ran through the streets of New York City with her on his back.
He didn't hesitate to carry her when she complained about the pain in her feet from all the dancing they had done that night, even though she told him she could walk just fine. Truthfully, he could have driven the two of them back to her apartment, but in his opinion, there was nothing better than a walk through the city, especially on a night like New Year's Eve.
"Steve, look at that one!" She slurred, taking a hand away from the collar of his jacket so she could point it toward the sky. Fiery sparks of bright yellow and red flashed through the night, the colors burning on her retina when she watched it explode above her head.
He glanced up, body vibrating when he laughed at the way in which she marveled at its beauty, but hesitated when he felt her trying to wiggle out of his hold.
"What's going on?" He said quietly, releasing her legs so she could stand.
Her heels had been left behind at the compound, causing Janie to shiver slightly when her bare feet hit the pavement. She sighed contently when she recalled the height difference between the two of them and giggled when she wiggled her toes to get rid of grains of sand that immediately stuck to them.
"Careful," Steve gripped her forearm, "There could be glass-"
Not allowing Steve to finish his sentence, Janie pushed hard against his chest. He stumbled backward in surprise, pulling her with him until his back made contact with the brick wall of an old apartment building. He loved how she bit her lip when she looked up at him, the vibrant smile previously plastered on her face wiped clean off when a gust of wind hit her body. She wasted no time grabbing his neck to lower his face towards her own, latching onto his skin to pull herself up to him.
She kissed him without hesitation, eyes screwing shut when her lips, now lacking the lip gloss she'd bought just for this occasion united with Steve's for the fourth time that night. All hesitation had left him long ago and instead had been replaced by euphoria. His hands snaked around her back, pulling her into him while her hold on him allowed her to feel his entire body through his clothing.
He pulled away slightly, allowing the young woman to take a deep breath of fresh air while his forehead rested against hers.
"You're drunk," he said, "let's get you home in one piece."
He didn't know she'd only been drinking water after midnight.