“Your skin is so soft.”
His cheeks dusted a beautiful pink as they touched yours and you leaned in, your lips millimeters from his ear.
But he was a gentleman and they didn’t run with whores.
So you kept the respectable distance of 11 inches between your middles and averted your eyes to a casual glance, roaming the room.
The douche in sunglasses across the room raised his eyebrows and gave you a sexy smirk. That one was more up your alley.
Now the blondie had run out of questions so you finished the rest of song in mildly uncomfortable silence.
“Thanks for the dance.” You whispered in what was hopefully an alluring voice, before whisking off. It would only hurt to linger.
You made your way slyly to the rich-looking businessman without turning back to give blue-eyes a last smile.
He was out of your league.
“Why do the girls all go for Tony? He’s such a jerk to women!”
“Nice guys finish last, Cap.” Clint raised a beer solemnly to this fact, before continuing his assessment. “But don’t worry, you can probably do better. That chick looks like she’s been around the block, if ya know what I mean. Ouch!!”
“What have I told you about objectifying women?!” Nat the Cat may be a femme fatale, but just because she capitalized on the misogynistic natures of men did not mean she didn’t completely abhor it.
“I think she looks classy,” Steve replied forlornly.
“Do you even know what classy is? Because you say stuff is classy that, well, isn’t classy.”
“What do you mean?!”
“There was the ‘classy’ Fotohut.”
“It was compact and efficient!”
“Never ask a nerd about class.”
Nat the Cat choked on her martini as Steve turned to see Bruce in slightly wrinkled khakis making a strained cameo to the party.
“Bruce, aren’t you a nerd?”
“Right. So don’t ask me either.”
“Can I get you a drink?”
“Whiskey, neat.”
“Hey, you can order something girly. I’m already impressed.”
“Fair enough.” You gave him a small grin before turning to the bartender. “Make it a double.”
“I’ll put it on your tab, Mr. Stark.” Tony gave the man a nod for the subtle name-drop, but it went over your head.
“Why don’t we get out of here…”
“(Y/n). And I’d like to have my drink first.”
“The girl knows what she wants.” He gave you a look of approval, which almost made you vomit. He didn’t need you to dig his stupid playboy act to get you in the sack; this was your job.
You noticed the barkeep roll his eyes out of the corner of yours, and made a note to maybe hit that later. Depending on how much time you had left.
He slid the drink across and you downed it in one gulp, holding in most of the grimace. You saw ‘Mr. Stark’s’ face light up, but at least he refrained from making a swallowing joke. Not your worst gig, after all.
“Ask me again.”
“Hmm?”
“You heard me.”
“Oh.” He looked at you over his shades, and damned if his eyes weren’t chocolate orbs. “Want to get out of here?”
“That would make my night.”
“And off they go. Told you.”
“They could be going somewhere more quiet to have a better conversation. Or getting some coffee.”
“Oh my sweet, naïve Captain.” Steve gave Clint a weird look and scooted away a little. Clearly the archer was smashed. “You know what both those things mean, don’t you?”
“Well-“
“Sex.” Bruce filled in the blanks for him loudly. Apparently all the mutations in the world did not give him one ounce of alcohol tolerance.
“Come on, Steve. Let’s get you away from these creeps. Maybe find you a nice secretary or HR consultant to dance with.” Tasha put an arm around his shoulder and tried to usher him away.
“No.”
He shrugged Nat the Cat off and grabbed a beer for liquid courage. This girl was different; he could feel it. “I’m going after her.”
She raised her eyebrows, both surprised and amused. Well it was about time he stepped up, she supposed. Not exactly the type of girl she’d expected, but a boy’s gotta start somewhere. Scuse me, a man.
“You go, girl!” Clint raised another beer in Steve’s honor, before spilling it on the ground.
Bruce gave him a nod and a ‘Black Power’ sign, as Tasha sighed. Guess she’d be on hangover duty for these two fools in an hour or so.
And were they sending a boy to do a man’s job?
Tony’s stubble was scratching your chin, making it kind of hard to enjoy his tongue. You had to admit he was good with that thing; no doubt due to practice over the years. Many years. What was he, like forty? Fifty?
“You wanna get that?”
“We’re a little busy right now.”
“I might need a breather.”
His snarky humor was refreshing, too. Definitely a promising finish despite a crappy start.
But right now your phone had been buzzing for the last five minutes and you probably needed to take this. Gay.
“Yeah?”
“Eyes on the asset?”
“More or less.” Mouth on the asset, more like.
“Well, you got incoming.”
“Seriously?” You kept your voice level, but you really wanted to facepalm. Or even headdesk.
“The square from earlier.”
“It’s not really a good time right now.” You flashed Stark a toothy grin and made a mental note to brief the new guy on protocol when you got back. Just because you were the boobs of the operation, didn’t mean you weren’t also the brains. But it shouldn’t be your responsibility to keep your side of the conversation sounding explainably casual.
“Just stay frosty.”
“Bye.”
Freaking new guy probably trying to impress the boss. Didn’t realize he had just done the opposite.
But you’d given Bill the position nominally so you could keep an insider’s perspective, and now all newbies thought it would be cool to treat you like shit. Well, back to the task at hand, anyway. You could make his life miserable when you got back.
“Who was that?”
“Does it matter?”
“Good point.”
Your mouth was on his again by the time blue-eyes marched in.
“May I have this dance?”
You kept a straight face but your stomach was turning itself inside out in laughter. Stark gave him an understandably annoyed and perplexed look.
“We’re a little busy.” He spoke thinly.
“I insist.”
Tony had no other argument prepared, so he turned to look at you for support.
Maybe you wanted to watch this newbie flip out and blow up your phone with a million harried texts, or maybe you hadn’t had someone like him pursue you like this in what felt like years;
Or maybe you just deserved a damn night off.
But who cares what the reason is? All that matters is that you replied.
“I’d love to.”
He led you down the hall back to the elevator, but maybe you’d veer off to a bedroom instead of the dance floor.
You left Iron Ego mouth-agape behind you, and wondered if this was really the Super Soldier they spoke of.
“I’m Steve.”
“That’s nice.”
“And you are?”
You shook your head and looked him dead in the eyes.
“No names.”
Will you take me to nirvana?
I don't think this will last
But you're here in my arms