Steve tried to remain calm; tried to be his normal self under the circumstances given to him. He couldn't help but snap when Natasha mocked him; practically spitting venom out at him. She flew back at him, readying to snap his neck. Only Clint was able to stop her in time, run his hands down her arms and whisper words that soothed the beast within her. The whole time he did this, he did not take his eyes off of Steve; accusing and cold they were.
Clint's warmth moves away from Natasha and down the steps. He glares at Steve, trying to teach him a lesson without having to speak. Clint figures that Steve isn't getting it and he raises his arms up in frustration.
"Never fall in love with a women who sells herself," He begins quietly, anger bubbling in his eyes. Steve wonders if his anger is pointed at him or if it's meant for another long gone. His questions are silence when Clint continues, voice crescendoing to a yell that echoes off the walls. "It only ends bad!"
Everyone is silent as Clint turns away from Steve, moving over to the steps that lead to the dance floor. He moves slowly down the steps; his eyes scan all of the people that sit around, waiting for the news that the show would go on. He dramatically sweeps his arm, trying to gather the attention of all the patrons of the Moulin Rouge.
"We have a dance, back in the brothels of Buenos Aries." He stops, takes in a breath and scans the room once more. "Tells the story of a prostitute," He points back to where Natasha is standing, a spotlight now illuminating her beauty. However, the others hoot and holler, paying no attention to how she glows under such light. Outside she's laughing, stepping down the short flight of stairs and making her way to the middle of the floor. "And a man, who falls in love," She spins, her hand riding up her body and over her breasts finally resting on her chest. His eyes rake over her body, practically screaming out how much he wanted her. However, you don't sleep with Natasha and be able to tell another about it. "With her."
Her heel collides with the ground, creating a loud thump that works elegantly with the music that is now playing. They move around each other, like predators stalking their prey. Steve stands, making his way towards the exit but his eyes never leave the two on the dance floor.
"First, there is desire," They move into each other, the two bodies desperately want to touch but seem to be holding themselves back. Their eyes close and their lips barely touch, his hand moves to her cheek but never touches. "Then, passion," Their hands clap together and he quickly grabs hers and spins her around. When she meets him again, her body leans against his and her left leg wraps around his waist. His arms wrap around her waist, supporting her. However, her eyes are not focused on him but on the man that is directly behind him. The man stands and begins his walk toward the floor.
"Then, suspicion!" He pulls the woman off of him and grabs her wrist. She tries to step away from him but the hand on her wrist keeps her in place. She surveys the crowd that is now forming around the two, looking at each individual man. Clint doesn't let her for long, quickly he pulls her close and they begin to spin.
"Jealousy! Anger! Betrayal!" She stops them and outstretches her arms. Her hands land onto his chest and try to push him away from her. He grabs her wrists and pushes her back. "When love is for the highest bidder," He begins. He pulls out her arms in both directions and stares at her distraught face. It almost seems as if she is ashamed of herself, but Steve quickly reminds himself that this is a story from another place in another time.
"There can be no trust, without trust there is no love!" Her left arm flies upward as she slides down to the floor. He pulls her back up and looks into her eyes. Steve can't tell what Clint is searching for, but it seems that this is not just a story. He spins her, never letting the grip on her wrist falter. The face each other once again and the distraught look only grows in her eyes.
"Jealousy, yes, jealousy will drive you," She tries to rip her wrist out of his grip but it's a pointless action; his grip only tightens when she attempts to free herself. After the second tug, he lets her wrist go; in the process having his arm fly upward, trying to make it as dramatic as possible. He turns away from her, his hands coming up to the side of his face as he did. The red headed woman grasps her wrist, flexing it to make sure she still has feeling. Another man comes up behind her and runs his hands up her thighs.
"Mad!" He spins back around to see his love in the arms of another; the other man's lips caressing the skin on her neck."Roxanne!" She drops quickly and rises to spin into one arm. Her eyes stay on Clint, challenging the man to do something about it. She spins back to face the mystery man and their lips barely touch.
"You don't have to put on that red light," She twirls back around into the arms of another man who has decided to join in on the story telling. Steve stops, listening and watching as this story unfolds before him. The man spins Natasha and then quickly grabs her from behind. He molds his body into hers and pulls her arm back. He lets her go and she kicks up her left leg, showing her goods to another man that has decided to play.
"Walk the street for money, you don't care if it's wrong of if it's right." The new man pulls her away from the others and dips her back. "Roxanne," She whips herself back up and dances her way into more arms. This man kisses her neck, puts his hands into her red tousled locks and moves with her. "You don't have to wear that dress tonight." The other two men come up from behind, touching and caressing her body as the man who has her attention moves downward. "Roxanne," One of the men pulls her away and she flies into the arms of another. His hands roam down her body and then lift her into the air. Her laughter echoes in the room. "You don't have to sell your body to the night."
Steve watches as the men and Natasha dance, listens as his own jealousy is unfolded before him. "His eyes upon your face," Steve begins, his voice flowing along with the rest of the music. The man puts Natasha down gently and she makes her way back to Clint. She presses her body against him and pink, soft lips meet chapped ones. "His hand upon your hand," Natasha pulls away from him, her hands running down Clint's chest. Steve begins to walk once more, focusing on the images that haunt his mind. Clint moves away, disappointment showing on his face. "His lips caress your skin," Steve moves onto the dance floor. The floor becomes more crowed as the bodies begin to find partners to dance with. "It's more than I can stand." Steve looks to where Natasha is only to see her running her hands through her hair and moving towards the steps.
"Roxanne!" Clint takes over, his arm swooping to where Natasha stands. She whips around to see him, a look of surprise and sorrow on her pale face. She turns back around and continues her decent up the steps.
"Why does my heart cry?" Steve begins again, facing the doors that lead to exit of the Moulin Rouge. The patrons of the establishment begin their tango filled with sorrow, moving as one. At once, the men dip the women back and pull them back up into them.
"Roxanne!" Clint bellows out again, his arm still in the direction of Natasha. She runs her hand up her arm and across her chest. She enjoys this too much but it doesn't surprise anyone. She isn't known as the Black Widow for nothing.
"Feelings I can't fight," Steve continues, still making his way from the middle of the crowd to the doors. "You're free to leave me but just don't deceive me," He draws closer to his goal, his eyes remaining on the doors as if they could flee at any moment. "And please, believe me when I say, I love you." He reaches his goal, stepping out into the crisp winter night air.
"Roxanne!" The bellow from Clint brings Steve out of his thoughts. He moves farther out of the Moulin Rouge and begins his singing once more, the desperation thick in his voice.
"Why does my heart cry?" He begins once more as he walks farther down the steps that lead into the Moulin Rouge. He can hear all the men simultaneously grab the women's wrists; can almost see the look of sadness in all of their eyes. This story does not just pertain to him but to all that work the night. "Feelings I can't fight," He hits the bottom of the steps, singing as loud as he can to drown out the sound that echoes behind him. He doesn't want to hear Clint anymore; he doesn't want to hear how he pines for love as well. It already hurts so much.
"You're free to leave me but just don't deceive me and please, believe me when I say, I love you." Steve stops when the dark tower is in his view. The tower looms over the Moulin Rouge; the perfect place for the Duke to reside. His baby blue eyes wander upward to the balcony and remain frozen on what they see.
The maroon of his love's suit stands out even in the darkness, illuminated because of the arc reactor that is within his love's chest. However, what stands out to him is not the man behind his love caressing his lover's skin with his lips. No, it is the shine that comes above the arc reactor; a shine made by an all diamond tie that resides around his lover's neck. He can feel the others eyes on him, can feel the sadness that resides within those dark eyes.
"Come what may, I will love you 'till my dying...day."
He looks away first, feeling as if his lover may see the swell of emotion in his eyes. He stands still for a moment, taking in what the wind had brought upon his ears. He starts his walk again when he can hear the haunting music of the violin start back up behind him. His brisk walk turns into a full on run when the violin becomes distorted. Something's wrong and there is nothing he can do to stop it.
"Roxanne!" Steve can hear Clint begin again from the inside hallway of his apartment. Steve doesn't want to hear him; he wants to wallow in his sorrow for just a bit longer. He wants to taste this feeling so thoroughly that, when it comes up again, he may know that it is jealousy.
"Why does my heart cry?" The blond rushes into his apartment and straight over to the window. He wants to be able to hear the music, to be able to sing along with it. He wants to hear the sound of heels against wood and wants to be able to see the dancers as they dance along. "Feelings I can't fight." Steve watches as Natasha and Clint make their way to each other, not even paying any attention to the words he is singing. He can hear all of the voices mix into one, meld into something so beautiful but filled with so much sadness.
Suddenly, all the female dancers drop to the floor as their partners make their way to the middle. They crawl away, body language signifying something so terrifying that Steve doesn't understand what is happening. He watches as Natasha dances to the music, a smile on her lips as all of the men make their way towards her. He hands rake down her body, calling to all the males to come and get her.
It becomes too much for the penniless man. His hands grasp the side of the window pane and he launches himself forward, his whole head sticking out of the window. He unleashes a scream; a scream filled with sorrow, desperation, jealousy, and anger. His scream, however, is drowned out over the choir of voices that fill the air. He continues to watch the scene at the Moulin Rouge through teary eyes.
Natasha is being thrown from man to man. They grab at her, all of them trying to get a piece of her before she leaves. Steve can't hear it but he can see that she is laughing, enjoying all the attention that she is getting. However, her smile fades when she reaches the arms of one man; Clint. He grabs her, spins her around, and presses her body against his. Her face is screaming that she is scared; her eyes as wide as a dear that's been caught. Clint drapes one arm cross her neck and pulls across as if he is breaking her neck. Her body falls slowly to the ground, her knees collide with the wood and then her back meets it.
His story, Steve thinks as he pulls himself into his apartment and shuts the window, must have ended in death. His hands wipe over his face, hoping that this action could somehow calm him down. He stands there, silent, wondering to himself if his story will end the same way. It is only when he hears the pounding of footsteps down the hall that he is taken abruptly out of his thoughts.