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Staring at Steve wasn’t a good thing to do when you’d had a few drinks. Especially when he was wearing the dark blue suit jacket that stretched deliciously over his wide shoulders. You swore you could hear the stitching scream in pain with every flex of his muscles.
God, he was sexy. Like, you wanted to rub yourself on him and purr like a cat in heat, just
unnngggg
.
You gave him a warm smile as he crossed the room, a smile that he didn’t return, and you hated the way your stomach dropped in disappointment.
It was a story that had been told millions of times before; you worked side-by-side with Steve and had a huge crush on him, but that’s where it ended. He thought of you like a little sister, barely treated you like a friend, and never
ever
let himself be in the same room with you if nobody else was there to run interference of some kind. You should have taken the numerous hints and moved on, but you couldn’t.
Despite the deep one-sided crush, you never let it affect a mission. You focused on what needed to get done and did it, no questions asked. You kept your head in the game, got down and dirty, and celebrated with the team back at the compound. Until tonight, and you blamed it on the alcohol.
You should never have agreed to the mission, should have pressed harder for Nat to take your place. She was better at this sort of thing; parading around in a slinky dress, using her curves to gain the attention of the mark. It wasn’t
you
, and apparently Steve had noticed.
He gave the bartender a tight smile and ordered a drink. “Why aren’t you dancing with him?” he asked, voice low enough to go unnoticed by anyone that wasn’t an Avenger.
“He’s a bit busy, if you haven’t noticed.” You jutted your chin toward the back of the room where the bad guy was surrounded by a group of women that were much sexier than you.
“So?” Steve scoffed. “If we don’t get to him tonight, we don’t have another shot for at least six months.”
You rolled your eyes sublty. “You think I don’t know that, Steve?”
“Quiet,” he ground out, nodding his thanks to the bartender. “Just do your damn job.”
You glared at him as he strode away, dipping his head at several women that were ogling him. “Fuck off, Rogers,” you muttered before downing the rest of your drink.
There were no two ways about it, he was right. You
needed
to get the bug planted and fast. According to the schedule Tony obtained earlier that week, the target was going to be leaving within the next hour. After that, he was in the wind, only showing up when he needed something.
You grabbed another drink and drank half of it before heading across the room, adding a sensual sway to your hips. When you got to the group of giggling women, you elbowed your way through and grabbed the dark tie of the target.
“Dance with me, baby,” you purred, setting your glass on the table.
His pupils flexed and a wicked smirk pulled at his lips. “How could I say no to you?” he rasped, breath heavy with whiskey.
Thankful for the crimson lipstick that didn’t smear, you gnawed on your bottom lip, walked backwards, and tugged roughly on his tie. Once you were in the middle of the floor, he took your hand in his, pressed a hand to your lower back, and moved you around the floor in a sensual tango.
You were surprised at what an amazing dancer he was, and the tighter he held you, the further back you dipped, you realized you were having a good time. Damn it, you’re not supposed to enjoy yourself while on a mission.
With your leg wrapped around his waist, he bent you back, his nose trailing down your neck and chest. You kept your eyes open and you got a lovely upside down view of a very pissed off Steve. You were pulled up before you could focus on the man for too long. Which was probably a good thing, You needed to keep your head in the game.
“Spend the night with me,” he pleaded, his hands on either side of your hips as he spun you around.
Your back was pressed against his chest, your head resting on his shoulder as your arm curled up around his neck. “What’s in it for me?” you murmured, nails scraping over his skin.
“A night you will never forget,” he vowed, voice wrecked, pupils blown with lust.
You turned in his grip and brought your mouth to his ear. “I’m gonna hold you to it,” you breathed before pressing a kiss to his cheek, locking eyes with Steve.
Without another word, he wrapped an arm around your waist and led you from the room, up the stairs, down a long hallway, and finally, to a large door. He started pawing at your curve-hugging dress before the door even latched shut.
“Easy, baby,” you breathed, gripping his hands tight. “Let’s get a drink first.” You felt his eyes on you as you crossed the room.
“Don’t take too long,” he insisted, kicking off his shoes.
“I won’t,” you promised.
You reached into the very small and very hidden pocket of your dress, right at the seam next to your left breast, and pulled out a small baggie of nanotech powder. You made quick work of dissolving it in the whiskey and shoving the baggie back where it belonged, turning around just as the target started to grow impatient.
He gripped the glass tight in his hand and tossed back his head, swallowing the microscopic spies with a smack of his lips. “Now, where were we?” he said loudly, sliding his hands together in anticipation.
You held up your hand as you took a healthy pull of whiskey, giggling internally at the way he swayed on his feet. Man, the drug acted fast!
“Wha- what’s going on?” he stammered, hand to his forehead, eyes squeezing shut.
“It’s okay, baby,” you cooed, reaching out to help him sit on the edge of the bed. “You probably just drank it too fast. Why don’t you lie down, hmmm?”
He nodded once and went to say something, but he was unconscious before the words could even form on his tongue. You clapped your hand to his chest as he slouched forward, and used everything you had to shove him to his back. He bounced slightly, hair messing up from its slicked back position, mouth falling open, a snore spilling out.
After running your fingers through his hair, you pulled out a tube of lipstick from your purse and smeared some on his lips, down his neck, chest, and belly. You replaced the lipstick, using whatever was still on your fingers to give your mouth the appearance that matched the decorated skin of the man spread on the bed. Hey, if you were going to see the story of bedding someone, you had to look the part.
You playfully slapped his face. “Thanks for the good time, baby.”
Poking your head out of the room, you made sure the hall was clear before slipping the
Do Not Disturb
sign over the knob. And then, you were heading down the stairs and outside, hailing a cab to take back to the hotel where you were meeting Steve, two towns over.
It took longer than you thought it would have, but that was partly because there was a wreck on the main drag out of town. By the time you stepped out of the cab, two hours had elapsed.
“Where the hell have you been?” Steve demanded to know the second the door opened.
“I’m fine, Steve,” you deadpanned, locking the door behind you. “Thanks for asking.”
He rolled his eyes. “It’s been two hours.”
“Yeah, and I got him to take the drug, so, mission accomplished,” you scoffed, removing your shoes and tossing them to the side.
Steve stared at you as he took in your appearance, mainly the smeared lipstick. “Did you fuck him?”
Anger boiled in your chest. “You’re kidding me, right?”
“Did you?” he asked again, a little louder than before.
You couldn’t even believe that he asked you that. What was even worse, he was looking at you as if you were… dirty. “Steve, that is not… I don’t even… why do you
care
?”
“I don’t,” he insisted, raking a hand through his hair.
“Whatever,” you grumbled, reaching up to pull out the sticks that were holding your hair back, the ones that doubled as weapons should the occasion ever arise. The dim light caught the edge of the blade as you pushed it out - strictly out of habit -then hit the table with a soft
clink
.
Steve started pacing and mumbling to himself, shaking his head every few seconds. If you weren’t pissed off at the way he was treating you, you’d find the sight irresistible. Okay, that was a lie. The man was fucking sexy with the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to his elbows, tie undone, top three buttons undone. No, damn it. He had just insinuated that you’d slept with some guy just to get some information.
“God, would you stop,” you ground out. “You’re driving me crazy.”
A bemused chuckle erupted from him. “
I’m
driving you crazy? Jesus, that’s rich.”
“Okay, Steven, that’s it,” you fumed. “What is your problem with me?”
He spun around to face you, brows furrowed, chest heaving. “What do you mean?”
“You’ve been… rude and obnoxious ever since I joined the team,” you went off, unable to keep it in any longer.
“Have not,” he scoffed, nose scrunched up.
You shot him a glare that made him swallow. “Bullshit, Steve! You leave whenever I walk in the room, refuse to even
look
at me when you have no other choice but to actually talk to me, and when you do talk to me, oh boy, watch out. I mean, this is the longest conversation we’ve ever had.”
His eyes were flashing angrily when he asked, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That, right there,” you answered, thrusting your finger toward him. “You’re demanding and short-tempered. You talk to me like you’re better than me. Yeah, I get it. You’re Captain
fucking
America. You’re in charge of the mission, but you do it
all the time
.”
“I do
not
,” he denied, rolling his eyes.
You arched your brow at him and crossed your arms. “Oh, really? What the hell do you call what you’re doing right now, huh?”
“My fucking job,” Steve announced loudly.
“Your job? Tell me, does that include berating me every chance you get? Or grilling me about whether or not I just fucked a guy because it took me two hours to get through fucking traffic in a cab?” You hadn’t realized it, but you were crossing the room slowly.
“That’s not why -”
You raked a hand through your curled hair. “Then
what
, Steve? Jesus, you act like you’d rather have a debilitating disease than be in the same room with me, let alone on a mission.”
“What do you want from me?” he sighed wearily.
“The only thing I’ve ever wanted from you is friendship,” you semi-lied. “But your giant fucking ego makes liking you so goddamn difficult.” You glared at him, your molars grinding, hands balled into fists for approximately three seconds.
Steve shook his head, looking at you in a way that you couldn’t figure out. “Making friends can get you killed in this job.”
Ouch. “Tell that to everyone else on the fucking team, including your not-friend, Bucky.”
You took a step back and nodded, chewing on the inside of your cheek to keep the sudden stinging of tears at bay. Without another word, you grabbed some clean clothes from your duffel and strode into the bathroom, slamming the door hard enough you heard the frame splinter.
A long shower was what you needed to help calm down. Well, a shower and a drink, maybe even some good sex, but a shower was the only thing you were going to get. There was no liquor in the cheap motel room, and as for sex, the only one you wanted to sleep with was Steve and there was no way that was going to happen. Not tonight, not
ever
.
By the time you emerged from the shower, the room was filled with steam and most of the frustration and anger you’d felt had ebbed. Sure, you still wanted to punch Steve in his perfect fucking face, but you would be able to control that feeling the next time he opened his stupid mouth. God, that mouth.
No, don’t do that.
From the corner of your eye, you saw Steve. He was wearing a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, seated on the couch, staring at the wall. Without the distraction of Steve yelling at you, you noticed there was only one bed, and since Steve was perched on the couch where a pillow and blanket sat next to him, you took it as a sign that the bed was for you.
He didn’t look at you or say anything when you walked through the room. You draped the dress over the back of a chair and climbed into the queen-sized bed. With a soft sigh, you flicked off the light and tried to get comfortable.
“I’m sorry,” Steve muttered several minutes later.
“Whatever makes you feel better, Steve,” you bit out, rolling your eyes in the dark.
“No, this isn’t about me,” he said, shoving off of the couch and coming to stand by the side of the bed. “I mean, it is, but it’s
not
.”
You huffed as you pushed up to your elbow, craning your neck to look up at him. “Then tell me,
Captain
,” you grit out. “What is it about?” Your eyes had adjusted to the dark, so you could see as he ran a hand over his face, through his hair, and to the back of his neck.
“You’re right. I’ve been acting like a total jerk,” he admitted.
“Praise Jesus,” you scoffed. “It’s a miracle. Can I go to sleep now?”
Steve’s shoulders sagged and he dropped to the bed, murmuring your name. “I’m sorry. I really am. No matter how I feel about you, I should be treating you with respect, and I haven’t been.”
Every bit of frustration and anger melted away at the sincerity in his voice. “It’s okay, Steve,” you assured him.
“No,” he argued gently, shifting to look at you. “It’s the furthest thing from okay.”
“You’re right, it’s not okay,” you agreed, craning your neck to try and see his features in the dark. “I forgive you.”
His eyes flew up to yours and there was a hopeful smile on his lips. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” you chuckled, your hand covering his. “Besides, I can’t stay mad at you for too long. I like you too much for that.”
Steve’s fingers twitched against your palm. “I like you, too, doll.”
“What? I… I mean, I thought you hated me based on, well, everything,” you scoffed in disbelief, trying to ignore the way your stomach was flipping at the way his calluses drug across your skin.
He was gnawing on his bottom lip as he shook his head. “The exact opposite,” he admitted breathily. “The first time I saw you I couldn’t breathe. You were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen, and I just… God, I wanted to get to know you and maybe ask you out, but this… what we do -”
“Fucking sucks,” you finished for him.
“Yeah, that,” Steve chuckled. “This is going to make me sound really selfish, but by pushing you away, by keeping my distance, I thought that I was saving myself should something ever happen to you.”
“You’re right, Steve,” you said, sitting up. “It does make you sound selfish. But, I get it, kind of. I mean, I wouldn’t have accused you of fucking someone else because of it, but I understand.”
Steve screwed his eyes shut. “Jesus, I’m an idiot.”
“Yeah, but you’re my idiot,” you murmured before leaning in and pressing your lips to his.
He gasped against your lips, eyes wide and searching yours. When you moved to pull back, his hand was on the back of your neck. With a soft moan, he kissed you firmly, teeth catching the slightly-chapped skin of your bottom lip as he sucked it into his mouth.
Using his shoulders for leverage, you shifted closer and slanted your mouth over his, moaning low in your throat as his fingers wound through your damp hair and tugged, establishing that he was the one in control. You melted against him as the kiss intensified, as he moved you to your back and settled between your legs.
Steve kissed you as if you were the only thing he were living for, as if you were the oxygen he needed, as if he could spend the rest of his life right there, your body willing and pliant under his touch. Hell, if that were an option, you’d take it, but there was this desperate need to breathe that was overwhelming you.
You pressed a hand to his chest and pushed, surprised when he didn’t use his super serum strength to ignore you. “Steve, just… hold on a sec,” you panted heavily, legs curled around his narrow waist, every inch of you thrumming with desire.
“Ye- yeah, sorry,” he gasped, lips kiss-swollen, eyes glassy. The hand he had pressed against your ribcage, under your shirt, squeezed, and it made you shiver.
“It’s okay,” you assured him, his heart hammering under your palm. “I just… I don’t want to rush…
this
.” Which was true.
As badly as you’d been wanting to get him in the exact position he was currently in, you wanted to take your time. God, you sounded like your grandparents. Okay, that made you want to laugh given Steve’s age.
Steve leaned onto one elbow and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t either,” he agreed, his voice thick and gritty.
You traced a finger down the column of his neck, right next to the pulsing vein you wanted so badly to trail your tongue down. “That doesn’t mean we can’t have fun,” you purred, thighs flexing. That got his attention.
“How much fun you talkin’ ‘bout?” Steve asked darkly.
“Just enough to drive us both crazy,” was your breathy answer.
“Works for me,” he assured you, and then he was driving you mad with his hands and mouth.