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“Hey, Soldier.”
Steve blinked and his head shot up from where he’d been staring down at his drink to see Natasha, watching him with an amused look on her face. She looked quite comfortable, like she’d been sitting on that barstool for ages and he just hadn’t noticed her. For a split second he wondered how long she had been there, and if she’d snuck up to him just to see how long it would take for him to notice her. She liked to do that.
“Hey.”
“Having fun?” She twisted in her seat and nodded to one of the the bartenders Tony had hired for the night to get her attention.
“Not really,” he muttered, and she had just enough time to shoot him a grin before the bartender approached. She ordered a vodka martini for herself and a fresh glass of whiskey for Steve.
“I thought you loved Stark’s parties?” she countered once the woman had walked away.
Steve rolled his eyes. She definitely knew how much he hated them. Almost as much as she did, but she hid it better.
Truthfully, he’d been dreading tonight for weeks. Usually he could get out of these things, but seeing as there were no current life-threatening situations that required his attention, and the fact that pretty much all of them were in the city at the same time for once, he was stuck in the penthouse of the Avengers Tower tonight.
This was some kind of annual event Stark Industries held. A fundraiser, probably (honestly, Steve couldn’t keep track. Tony held a lot of these things). All of current the Avengers were in attendance - besides Bruce and Thor, who they hadn’t heard from since the whole ordeal with Ultron - which he’d argued was a huge selling point and had apparently sold a lot of tickets.
When Captain America was one of the marketing strategies, that meant a lot of people Steve didn’t know trying to talk to him.
He was great with people, and he couldn’t say he didn’t enjoy meeting them. But something about tonight made him feel like he was back in 1942, being paraded around a stage in a stupid outfit just to sell war bonds. These people were all incredibly well off and most of them had an uncomfortable vibe, like they had paid their way in just to say they had dinner with Captain America and Iron Man. Like they were using them for own social status.
He wanted to leave, but he knew Tony would find out if he skipped out early. Besides, Natasha made him swear he wouldn’t sneak out early.
He’d barely even seen her all night. Clint knew they were together, as did Sam, but he was pretty certain no one else did. If Tony knew he was doing an impeccable job at keeping it to himself. They’d mutually agreed that the Stark Industries Annual Whatever-The-Hell-This-Was-For Benefit wasn’t the best time for that news to break to the public, so they’d keep their distance.
That hadn’t stopped him from staring at her all night, though. At one point he’d completely tuned out something Rhodey had been saying to him, and when Clint realized it was because he was distracted by Natasha having a conversation with Maria all the way across the room, he’d snorted out a laugh, said, “You guys are idiots,” and walked away, leaving behind a confused Rhodey and a blushing Steve.
In his defense, he’d barely seen her all day. They’d woken up in his apartment in Brooklyn - the one they stayed in when they were in the city - and after breakfast and a much longer shower than anticipated (undeniably Natasha’s fault), he’d left for Manhattan early, leaving her to get ready on her own and arrive later so as not to raise any suspicions. After getting a few hours of actual work in, Tony had breezed into the conference room, shoved a freshly tailored suit at him and sent him on his way to mingle.
She’d showed up about thirty minutes after the rest of the guests had started to arrive. The second he’d caught her greeting Pepper in a simple black cocktail dress, her hair long and wavy, pulled off to one side and gleaming bright red in the low lighting, the necklace he’d gotten her for her birthday sparkling around her neck, it was like all the air had been sucked out of his lungs and he forgot how to speak for an inexcusable amount of time.
“Rogers.”
Steve blinked at her. He hadn’t realized he’d let his mind wander. He’d been staring at her for a few long seconds - he’d suddenly been completely awestruck by how much more beautiful she looked up close as opposed to across the room - and couldn’t remember if she’d said something he was supposed to reply to.
“What?”
Natasha just huffed out a laugh and brought her martini glass to her lips. “Real subtle.”
“Sorry,” he muttered, distracting himself by draining the remains of his existing drink and pushing it across the bar to get started on the one she’d ordered for him. “Are you having fun?”
“Of course. I love parties.” She didn’t even skip a beat, glancing around the room and sipping at her drink. “I’m great with people.”
“You hate people.”
“Exactly. Which means I know exactly how to make them happy so they leave me the fuck alone.” Steve choked out a laugh, the whiskey he’d swallowed in the process burning all the way down his throat. She grinned over at him. “I think you just need to work on your people skills.”
“I have excellent people skills.”
“Staring at your girlfriend while trying to politely tell an asshole senator that Captain America won’t be endorsing him for re-election does not exemplify excellent people skills,” she replied, lowering her voice and raising an eyebrow at him.
She wasn’t wrong.
“Think Tony would notice if we left?” he asked, instead of arguing with her. “I’ve sworn Friday to secrecy. She won’t tell him we leave together.”
“That may be true, but he will notice when I come upstairs in the morning for whatever elaborate team breakfast he’s planning wearing this.” She lifted her hand and pulled lightly at the grey button down he had under his suit jacket. She slid towards him on her barstool, just a little, and lifted her eyes to meet his, stopping just long enough on his lips for him to notice. He swallowed hard and took a long drink from the glass in his hand.
“Stop, someone will see,” he mumbled against the rim of his glass.
“So? They’re all drunk.” He shot her a withering look and she grinned. Before he could argue with her, she reached over and took the glass out of his hand. With one smooth motion she drained the rest of it, slid off the stool to her feet, then set it down on the counter and held out her hand. “Dance with me?”
Steve took her hand, but hesitated. “I don’t know how.”
“If only I were a classically trained dancer.” Steve rolled his eyes, and she smiled softly, letting her fingers slide in between his. “I’ll show you. It’s not hard.”
“If you say so.”
“I do say so. And I’m always right.”
Steve huffed out a laugh, but allowed her to pull him across the room to the makeshift dance floor where the sunken lounge usually was. Natasha turned so she was facing him and guided his free hand to her waist before resting hers on his shoulder. Then she raised their other hands to hover in the air before urging him to move.
It was difficult to concentrate on anything besides not stepping on her toes or turning the wrong way and bumping in to her. He felt awkward, especially with someone as graceful as Natasha opposite him. Finally she squeezed his shoulder and he glanced up at her.
“Look at me, not your feet.”
“Sorry,” he replied with a sheepish grin. Her lips twisted up into a little sideways smile.
“I’ll lead. You just have to follow.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.” She pulled herself away from him and lifted their arms, executing a perfect spin before twirling back into him again. “See? Easy.”
“I’ve been stressing out about this for eighty years.”
“Well, I wasn’t there to tell you to stop being an idiot, was I?”
Steve chuckled under his breath. “No, I suppose you weren’t.”
The song ended, but the band didn’t hesitate before moving on to the next one, something much slower. Natasha slid her hand out of his, but instead of insisting they separate again, she slipped it up and met her other hand around his neck. He let his drop to her waist and she started moving again, forcing his feet to shuffle back and forth.
“Easier?” she asked. He nodded. “Not as fancy as it used to be, I’m afraid.”
“Doesn’t matter how fancy it is as long as you have the right partner,” he countered. She snorted out a laugh.
“You’re such a sap, Rogers.”
“Only with you.”
“I refuse to believe you don’t talk to Sam the same way. I’ve seen the looks you two give each other.”
“Sam’s great and all, but he’s not you.”
Natasha didn’t reply to that. Instead she just tightened her grip around his neck and tucked herself closer to him as they moved. Finally, after a few long seconds of silence, she asked, “Having fun yet?”
“Much improved.” She pulled back to meet his gaze, her eyes suddenly wide and uncertain. She stopped moving, her hands sliding down to rest on his chest instead. He frowned down at her. “What’s wrong?”
“I love you,” she breathed, then bit down hard on her lip and immediately avoided his gaze.
Steve’s heart leapt in his chest, suddenly beating so rapidly he was sure she could feel it beneath her fingertips. They’d been together for months (well, officially), and sleeping together for even longer. He knew she loved him, just based on the little things, the way she looked at him, how comfortable she’d become around him, and how she’d slowly started letting her guard down and opening up to him. He’d even heard her mutter it in Russian a few times, thinking he either couldn’t hear her or didn’t know what it meant. But she’d never actually said it.
“Please say something.”
He hadn’t even realized he didn’t reply. Her expression had faded from uncertainty to regret, and a pang of guilt suddenly shot through him. He was so distracted by the fact that she felt comfortable enough to finally tell him she loved him that he hadn’t even said it back. Idiot.
“How obvious would it be if I kissed you right now?” he said instead. The corner of her mouth ticked upwards and he felt her relax a little.
“Do not.”
Steve glanced quickly around the room. Sam and Rhodes were at the bar, both quite inebriated and laughing about something. Tony and Pepper were on the other side of the dance floor, too caught up in their conversation to pay them any attention. He couldn’t see Clint or Wanda, but Clint seemed to always know everything anyway, and Wanda could read their minds and probably already knew, so Steve wasn’t too concerned with them.
“Come on,” he said, once he determined no gave a shit about the two of them. He wrapped his hand around her arm and pulled her towards a hallway that led towards the lower level of Tony’s lab. Natasha didn’t protest and let him lead her out of the room, away from the partygoers and noise.
The second the door closed behind them Steve turned on her, pulling her towards him again and pressing his lips hard against hers. She let out a a small noise of surprise but still let him back her gently into the wall and snaked her arms up between them to rest at the back of his neck. Finally, once his lungs screamed for air, Steve pulled back just enough to take a breath and rested his forehead against hers.
“I love you too,” he mumbled against her lips, and she breathed out a laugh.
“Yeah, I know.” She dropped her hand down to rest on the side of his face, her thumb sliding against his cheek. “Remember when I said you weren’t allowed to leave early?”
“Yeah.”
She kissed him again, much softer and slower this time, before continuing. “Fuck that. Let’s go.”
Steve grinned at her, but before he could tease her - just hours ago she’d been very adamant about needing to support Tony, insisting he could survive one night - she was already grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the back elevator that would take them down to his room.