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Steve slid into his seat in an opera box (thank you Tony for the upgrade) minutes before the show began. He had never heard of The Red Shoes before, but Pepper was old friends with one of the production heads and had got Steve both tickets and an offer for an art commission.
He hadn’t had a chance to read up on the show itself since he barely had time to get showered and changed into nicer clothes in order to get to the theater on time. It didn’t matter much to him though because he had always enjoyed watching ballets, especially such highly accredited ones as this. Something about the elegance and sheer talent always left him in awe. Even by the time the lights dimmed and the crowd hushed, he still hadn’t even had time to look at the playbook but sometimes the surprise was better.
What he hadn’t expected was to be captivated by the principal ballerina right from the moment she graced the stage. He had seen a lot of ballets in his life and he couldn’t remember a single time when a ballerina had made him feel so enchanted. Her red hair was striking and she moved across the stage with such elegance that he could hardly focus on the other cast members.
At intermission, he whipped out his sketch book and immediately began drawing. Of course, the stage design, lighting and music were beautiful and greatly aided in the storytelling but his hands were itching to draw her. This is what he did for a living, drawing performers. His favorite medium was charcoal, but he considered breaking out the watercolor just for this piece. He could match her bright red hair with the red pointe shoes.
By the time the lights went back down, he had a rough sketch complete thanks to his hands working at lightning speed. He set his book aside when the curtain opened. He desperately wanted to memorize every second left of the show. He sat back and let himself enjoy the story and the mesmerizing performance.
~
After the show, he found himself walking to his favorite late night coffee shop. The end of the show left him choked up, but he couldn’t get the principle ballerina playing Victoria out of his head. A hot coffee and a comfortable place to work seemed like the most logical way to spend the rest of his evening.
He sat back in one of the two lounge chairs in the reading corner of the café and resumed his previous sketch. He started refining the sketch and adding details. Adding softness to her curves and flourishes to her outfit.
He was so focused on his work, that he hadn’t even noticed someone come over and pick out a book from the mini library.
“Mind if I sit?”
Startled, he raised his head only to be met with the face of the person he had just watched grace a stage for two hours. She had removed the clips from her hair and it now rested in loose curls on her shoulders. She had also changed out of her elaborate costumes for a sweater and jeans, but she was still beyond recognizable to Steve who made a career out of memorizing distinct features of performers.
He realized he must have been staring silently for too long because she raised an eyebrow. “Huh. Oh! Yeah, yeah go ahead.” He was stuttering and could feel a blush rising. “Here let me move my stuff so you can set your coffee down.”
She flashed a smile at him as she took the other lounge chair. “It’s green tea but thank you.”
He tried his best to smile through the awkwardness he felt. Only when she opened her book, did he turn back to his sketchbook and release a deep breath.
They were silent for the next five minutes as they each did their own thing. Steve couldn’t help feeling tense though as he forced himself not to take peaks at the beautiful woman next to him. He had never been in a situation like this before. One where the person he was drawing was sitting next to him but completely oblivious. It almost felt wrong to keep working on the sketch of her, like an invasion of privacy or somthing. Sure, he had sketched random people in a park before and when he was commissioned for productions, the cast was often not aware until after the fact. But it felt different to secretly draw the woman who was sitting next to him without her knowledge.
He finally decided to work on something else and was preparing to turn the page when she spoke up. “What are you working on?”
Steve felt his blush quickly returning as he looked up and saw her looking directly at him. She had stunning eyes and it felt like she was looking straight into his soul. Her features were soft, and she wore the smallest traces of a smile.
“Uh it’s just a sketch. I’m an artist,” he finally managed to say with only a slight stutter.
She smiled a little brighter. “An artist? I’m a ballet dancer.”
Steve did his best to play it cool. “Ballet? That’s nice.”
Bucky would be slapping the back of his head by this point for not being able to make casual conversation.
She didn’t seem to mind though as she sat her book down to grab her tea and proceeded to lean back in her seat.
“So, what are you working on? Can I see it?”
Steve had never been overly prideful or confident in his work, but he usually didn’t shy away from showing it off. Sure, showing sketches was a very vulnerable experience but he loved getting peoples honest feedback when they saw rough sketches.
This however was a slightly sticky situation since he figured there was at least a 50 percent chance she would be able to tell that the dancer in his sketch was herself.
“Uh it’s a commission and it’s not really to a good point yet.”
She continued to look intrigued though. “What or who is the commission for?”
“Um a dance company?” He was always horrible at lying so he decided being vague was his best bet.
He was wrong. Her eyes lit up with excitement and she raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Which dance company? I know most of the dancers in New York City. I wonder if I know who you were commissioned with.”
At this point, Steve could practically hear Sam and Bucky’s voices in his head telling him to take a leap of faith and show her the drawing. The worst that could happen is an awkward goodbye.
“Uh yeah, I’m actually working on a piece for The Red Shoes which if I’m not mistaken, you’re the lead in, right?”
He held his breath waiting for her reaction. First, she looked shocked, then she looked excited.
“You were at the performance tonight, weren’t you? And then you came here to try to get as much on paper as you could while it was fresh in your mind, right?”
Steve’s only response was nodding his head.
In quick succession she set down her tea and leaned closer to him. “Can I please see it? I want to know which scene stood out most to you.”
Even with her kind smile and genuine enthusiasm, he was still reluctant to show her such a rough sketch of a drawing of herself. “It’s only a rough sketch.”
She smirked at him. “You don’t strike me as the type to be self-conscious about a work in progress.”
He didn’t know where she got that impression from given his awkward nature and briefly wondered if she was lying. Nevertheless, her words had the intended effect of convincing him to let her see the sketch. He moved the sketchbook between them so she could grab it.
Her silent but deep inhale when she turned it around made him catch his breath. He watched silently as her eyes traced over the image and her fingers ghosted over the page.
“It’s me. And it’s stunning.” Her voice came out like a whisper.
He smiled. “Well yeah, you are the lead.”
He couldn’t tell if she even heard him speak because she stayed perfectly still. He wanted to know what she thought, and he was mildly worried that he hadn’t had enough time to adequately catch her beauty.
“It’s not done yet obviously. I still have lots of details to add. I’m even thinking of adding red watercolor to emphasize the match between the shoes and your hair.”
“It’s beautiful.”
The softness and affection in her voice made his heart flutter.
“This is my favorite scene of the whole show. I know you say this is only a work in progress but it’s one of the most beautiful pieces I’ve ever seen.”
Steve grinned. “You are one of the most captivating dancers I’ve ever seen. I had to start working on it as soon as I possibly could.”
She finally looked up from the book and caught his eyes. Her shy smile was gorgeous. “Thank you. You’re an amazing artist.”
“It helps to have a beautiful subject.”
Steve was never this smooth, but he was encouraged by the very slight blush that tinted her cheeks.
“I can’t wait to see the final product.”
He also couldn’t wait to see the final product. It had been so long since he had been truly inspired or had any desire to branch out. He couldn’t wait to see what came out of a commission that felt more like a passion project.
They smiled at each other for a while, truly lost in the moment until a soft hum from the clock alerted them of the late hour. She passed him back the sketchbook and went to grab her stuff.
“I’m afraid I can’t stay. Early rehearsal tomorrow. But I do hope to see you, uh,” she dropped off and all of a sudden he realized he hadn’t introduced himself.
“Steve. Steve Rogers.”
She smiled, and wow did she have a beautiful smile. “Well Steve, I hope to see more of your art and more of you another time. Maybe over coffee.”
“Uh yeah, yeah. Coffee!”
She laughed subtly at his word fumble. “Here’s my number. Call me?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I can do that Ms. Romanoff.”
She smirked again. “Call me Nat.” Then she turned and swiftly exited the café.
~
A week later, he bribed Tony into buying him a ticket for the closing performance of The Red Shoes. He bought her a bouquet of red roses and lingered around the theater for her to come out.
When she finally walked out, she looked shocked to see him, but her bright grin showed that his presence was welcomed.
“What a surprise.”
“These are for you,” he said passing her the roses. “And this,” he then said while pulling out a modest frame from his art portfolio. He watched her gasp as she shoved the roses back towards him so that she could take the painting with both hands.
“Oh Steve. This is stunning. It’s for me?”
“Well, you are the subject. And you said that you wanted to see the final product.”
She grinned before leaning forward and placing a tender kiss on his cheek that definitely made him turn a shade of color close to that of the roses he was holding.
“It’s perfect. Thank you.”
“Well, Nat, mind if I take you for a drink? Or cash in that coffee promise?”
She looped her arm through his, “that sounds perfect.”