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Music was playing over the speakers that Clint had given him a couple of weeks ago. They’re nice speakers. Small enough that they could be set up virtually anywhere in the house without being in the way. They’re standalone, which Steve found fascinating in a way that seemed to amuse Sam to no end. But then Sam seemed to enjoy seeing Steve’s reactions to some of the new and fascinating aspects of the 21st century. The best part about the little speakers though was that, despite their size, they could get very loud .
That’s notable because Steve has come to discover that much of the modern music he’s taken a liking to is a lot more fun when he can hear and feel it. Plus, Sam questions his tastes in music so playing it loudly tended to annoy him and when Sam is annoyed the steady stream of creative banter between the two of them was infectious. Maybe Steve was a little twisted for finding so much enjoyment out of winding Sam up but he’s so expressive that he just couldn’t help himself.
So the music is playing over the speakers--loudly--while Steve bounced slightly as he worked through washing the dishes from dinner. The song faded and the catchy beat of the next kicked off, Steve automatically began bobbing his head to the beat, hands automatically scrubbing the soapy pan in time. Over the sound of the music, he could hear the tell-tale muffled footsteps behind him and grinned to himself. Suddenly, knowing he had an audience of one made the song that much more fun.
Without looking back where he knew Sam would be standing, Steve shifted from idle bouncing to enthusiastically dancing to the song. With a surprisingly decent rhythm at that, he was impressed with himself.
“'Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play, play, ” he started singing when the chorus started. When he really, really put in the effort Steve could sing somewhat decently, thanks entirely to the serum correcting his hearing and ability to hear tone. He could sing .
But Steve intentionally didn’t even try to do well as he sang entirely off pitch and danced like a lunatic in the kitchen. Singing well wasn’t the point this time.
When he finally turned to look at Sam, he was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and his lips were curled inward, trying his damndest to suppress the laughter at Steve’s antics.. Steve grinned brightly, “Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake.”
Poor Sam.
He tried so hard.
He really, really did.
But at seeing a six-foot-four, two hundred-something pound super soldier enthusiastically shaking it to Taylor Swift, Sam lost it. The arms crossed in front of him seemed to suddenly be more for support than casual posture.
It was amazing.
“And to the fella over there with the hella good hair,” Steve sang outrageously, pointing at the laughing Sam. Steve forgot the dishes and looped a hand around Sam’s forearm and tugged him forward. “Won't you come on over, baby, we can shake, shake, shake, yeah oh.”
He kept singing--poorly, kept dancing, and tried nudging Sam into dancing with him but he was laughing so hard at the pure ridiculousness that it was just a mesh of laughter and Steve making an intentional fool of himself. Because being able to pull that free, full body laugh out of Sam was more than worth it.
By the time the song ended and the next started--something about girls from California, but that was whatever--they were both lost in laughter. Steve was positive that he’d never sing another not on key if this was the reaction he got.