This is something that I've had floating around in the back of my mind for a few weeks and I decided to write it while I was in between bigger fics. Enjoy!
Let's make one thing clear: Steve Rogers did not want to be here. Asgard itself wasn't bad; it was actually kind of awe-inspiring for a kid from Brooklyn. And Thor really had been kind to offer him a reprieve here after what the demigod had dubbed his "latest quest" with Natasha. It was just… the culture here was starting to get to him. Steve didn't mind a good training session any more than the next guy – he probably even liked it a little more than most people – and as a World War II veteran and Captain America, he was, at some capacity, used to war… but the parties. After his so-called "quest" with Agent Romanoff, he just wasn't in the mood for them.
He'd really thought that maybe something was starting between him and Natasha by the time their whole ordeal was over. Only, when she'd walked away from him and Nick Fury at the cemetery, it'd been to go straight to an unmarked vehicle driven by none other than Clint Barton – whom she had kissed very thoroughly then and there. Thus, she'd driven away with her dark knight, taking with her what he'd thought had been something meaningful, something that had actually all been an illusion, or, worse yet, just the wishful thinking and tricks of his own mind. Considering his mood, there was no way he was going to contact Sharon Carter after that, thank you.
So when Thor had dropped in and offered him a vacation in Asgard, Steve had jumped at the chance to get away from it all. Unfortunately, his dreary thoughts had followed him here, and Thor's cure for that – parties and far, far too much "ale" – did not work for Steve. No matter how much he tried to get drunk, and believe him, he really tried, it never worked which only served to get him all that much more depressed and frustrated with his life.
No matter how much Steve tried to explain it to his friend, the idea of not even being capable of getting oneself soused was totally inconceivable to Thor. The god of thunder had simply decided that Steve must not be trying hard enough and proceeded to take him to a party every night so far that week.
Though Steve had at first consumed almost as much alcohol as Thor at these things, it was now Friday night, and he'd given up even trying. Tonight he was going to keep to himself in an out of the way corner and nurse only one or two mugs of ale until Thor was ready to leave – which didn't look like it was going to be any time soon, considering that this party seemed a little more heightened than the others thus far. Tonight it seemed, a few of Thor's closest comrades had returned victoriously from a battle in another realm – at least that's what he'd been told when Thor had made a point of introducing him to the returned men – the Warriors Three – before Steve slipped away to his quiet corner.
An hour had passed since then and there was no sign of anything slowing down. Steve sighed into his drink, bored out of his mind of watching drunken people as he took another sip of his mug's contents. Over the edge of his mug, he noticed a face that had been floating around the scene all evening – the solitary woman to have come in with the Warriors Three, and possibly the only other person in the vicinity who was still in full possession of their faculties.
She noticed him noticing her then and cocked her head to the side, staring brazenly at him with assessing eyes. He lowered his glass and raised an eyebrow at her, smiling lightly before turning away so that he was only looking at her out of the corner of his eye. She seemed to be someone important tonight, and he wasn't going to make her feel like she had to come over here and talk to lonely old him – even if did want her to.
She knew he was still watching her; he could tell that by the smirk on her face, the way her gaze still rested intently on him. Steve caught her movements in his peripheral vision as she gulped down the last of her ale and handed the empty mug to the nearest serving girl instead of smashing it like most of the men in the room had done that night.
Then… oh geez, then she started heading towards him, a devious little smile tipping the corners of her mouth. He cleared his throat and took a nervous breath, looking away as he momentarily reconsidered the idea of once again trying to get drunk.
"You must be Thor's friend Captain Rogers," she said by way of greeting as she grabbed a chair from a nearby table and moved it so that she could join him in his little corner. Taking her seat, where Steve definitely did not notice that their knees were now touching, she offered, "I'm Lady Sif."
"Your grace," Steve replied, clearing his throat again and then impetuously taking her hand and kissing it like he'd seen Thor do to Jane.
Tony's way with women must've rubbed off on him a little at some point because he didn't feel like sinking into the floor, not even when Sif laughed, saying, "I'm not that kind of lady."
"But I'm sure you are a lady."
"Perhaps," Sif answered with a small smile. "Though my sword makes many believe otherwise. You, however, are unmistakably a true gentleman."
Steve laughed, murmuring, "Perhaps…"
"Well, I know of no other type of man who would still be on his first drink at this sort of celebration."
He shook his head when she nodded towards the mug in his hands, explaining, "It doesn't make a difference how much I drink. Like your sword, my super-soldier serum comes at a price." He sighed. "I am completely incapable of getting drunk." Stupid metabolism rate…
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