Beats on the Street

by EightiesKat

The Windy City sets the stage as two newspapers, The Chicago City Herald and The Chicago Star, rival for sales and stories. Steve and Natasha, competing journalists, search for the truth in the mystery they find themselves on, but also in their real story about to unfold. Slow Burn / Frenemies / Romance / Mystery / AU. I do not own any of this or any part of Marvel or the MCU.

9. Chapter 9: Gossip Column

Beats on the Street

I do not own any of this or any part of Marvel or the MCU

Chapter 9 – Gossip Column: A Night to Remember

The lights. The dresses. The guests!

Chicago's finest were dressed to the 9's as they wined and dined, raising money for charity. Fireworks capped off the evening as the glamourous guests danced and drank their night away. The Governor, Mayor, and every media personality of note in the metro was in attendance. And an astounding fundraiser was put in the books. Over 30 million dollars was raised to help the city's youth and parks. To say the evening was a success, would be putting it mildly.

But the real headlines in the coming days will surely focus on other affairs to remember from the evening. A night, when a certain Grammy Award winning artist was caught kissing a certain professional football player, who happens to be the quarterback for our Chicago Bears. Drinks and dancing and canoodling created quite the scene, thanks to the chagrin of the singer's current boyfriend, who was also in attendance. Prior to the entanglement being caught in front of a crowd of people and cameras, the triangle of romance had only been rumored. But gasoline was doused on those flames of gossip last night.

Whether or not the artist and her boyfriend are still together as of this article, it's hard to say. But read on to find out all your favorite details and gossip from Chicago's Riverfront Ball under the stars. Everyone, from local celebrities like Howard Stark, Channel 10's Maria Hill, to Governor Hammer dawned their finest and donated to help those in need.

Was there a heated discussion between bankers and politicians? Were there backroom dealings between stockbrokers and the elites in attendance? Was political intrigue at an all-time high with Mayor Coulson, Governor Hammer, and Eleanor Bishop all in attendance? Two months out from election day, the political campaign is on the rise.

But that's not what we're here to discuss. And we won't blame you if those details are pushed to the backburner, as you turn to page 6 for the fiery gossip still burning from the ball.

The love triangle of drama unfolded for all to see, so let's answer the most important questions from Friday night.

Was it just a kiss? Or is there more to the chemistry between the quarterback and Grammy winner? Is the Chicago Bears QB injured from his tackle and fight with the boyfriend? Will the boyfriend make a move, or is the singer's shadow too big for the A-lister to step out from? Will miss starlet herself, try to get in front of this story? Or is she focused on the next set of lips she wants to meet? These are the questions people want answers to! Let's dive into those locked lips, that really set off the fireworks for the evening.

---

In the absence of speech, worries plunder the mind.

When doubt hinders the truth, rumors seep and unwind.

---

The gossip rags would have their fill of dirty details regarding celebrities in attendance after the last drink was poured at the ball.

But before any of those events unfolded, Friday evening was just beginning. The romance of a dance awaited all that were attending. And a certain redhead was picked up by a certain dashing man, for a night to remember in their own right.

It was a quarter to 7 pm, and Natasha was flipping through XM Radio channels in the vintage Mustang, Steve was lent for the evening. Driving along Lake Michigan with Chicago's skyline to his right, Steve smiled. He couldn't stop smiling in fact. The car was vintage and smelled of worn leather. The woman at his side had a lasso around his heart. And he was on cloud nine. What a night this was going to be.

"You know, I was at Willis Tower early this morning, meeting a contact. But it sounds like my morning has nothing on yours, Nat."

Natasha was fidgeting with the seam at the slit of her dress, "Oh, I don't know about that. See anything interesting on the Skydeck?"

There was that sign of deflection, but Steve ignored the first hint of it from her, "Lots of selfies from families and kids and those ledges. Nothing related to the story directly, but I think I have access to CCTV locked in, so a lot of digging through archived footage will be in my future."

An awkward silence followed, filling the small space of the sports car. Steve was battling the mix of attraction, cologne, and perfume, and now the avoidance of work talk by Natasha.

"Well, I guess we won't be able to stay out too late, to make sure you get your beauty rest, Rogers."

Steve chuckled as Natasha looked out the window and he added, "I mean…I was kind of thinking we'd be looking through the footage together. So…you're included in that idea, Nat."

"You saying I need beauty sleep, Steve?"

Prickly. Deflective. Goddamn out of this world with her hair and eyes…and lips and curves.

That was Natasha in a nutshell as she smirked, and Steve rolled his eyes.

But something was off.

"Yeah, you definitely need it, Red." Steve's sarcasm was through the roof as he shook his head. Natasha reached over to smack him playfully in the shoulder.

This time he let all that sarcasm fall away, "Well, it's good to know a response besides deflection is possible from you right now…Is something bothering you, Natasha?"

Natasha had been running around mentally, all morning and afternoon. First Bucky and Fury gave her the tough love she needed, that she hadn't fully accepted at this point. Second, her conversations with Mayor Coulson and Jessica Jones piled on the additional questions about Midwest and Wilson Fisk. And third, she'd spent a few hours soaking up the soul-stirring words, written overseas by the man sitting only a foot away from her now.

It was quite the pressure cooker. And right now, Natasha just didn't want to talk shop. She really wanted to have a good night tonight. What this was between them, was definitely more than a friendship, but it was still complicated. So, trying to focus on work and the story, while Steve was looking the way he did in his tux, and feeling the way he looked at her in her dress, was just a little too much.

Pressure and time. With enough of it, cracks eventually show on any surface.

So, Natasha thought she'd take a little of that pressure away, and leave it in this Mustang's trail.

Natasha blew out a breath, "No, Steve. I just would really like to focus on the night. Let's not talk shop, okay? Let's just eat and drink as much of Stark's money as we can."

There was some truth behind her words. But she pushed away any other reasons why she hadn't answered his initial question, on whether she discovered anything new today. Natasha was deflecting from herself too. And Steve let it lie for now, "Okay. As long as tracksuits didn't show up and threaten you or anything, and that's why you were running late."

Steve's sincerity came out of his words, so Natasha told him another half-truth, "No tracksuits. I promise. I was just away from the office…and I kind of got lost in the afternoon, reading some of your articles as Joseph Grant."

There. She'd said the truth…sort of.

Her inner voice spoke louder than the hum of the sports car, 'That's not all you were doing in your city, Romanoff.'

But it did the trick for now. And it caused Steve to feel a little of that awkward tension turn back on him, "Geez, Nat. I'm supposed to be the one making you feel like a million bucks. But thanks. I'm glad I could help you pass the time."

Her inner voice revved its own engine, and was almost taunting her now as it grated at her conscience, 'Oh, and you got access to CCTV, Steve? Well, I found out explosives, tied to construction companies, are on record with the police, and they're keeping it quiet. I also found out Coulson turned down Midwest's proposal to build a second facility in Chicago. I have a hunch on what Wildfire is about. And I think Fisk is making a move to have a presence along the north/south Red Line.'

The mocking tone from Natasha's Jiminy Cricket was even more annoying than her inner competitor. But both voices spoke the truth. Natasha had shown a little trust toward Coulson and Jones today. But got something in return. She'd lost time, absorbing Steve's writing. And then spun and ran, rushing to get ready ever since.

And now she had a moment alone with her thoughts, as Steve sat close enough, that their shoulders almost touched. Right now, Natasha just didn't want to dive into all of that talk. So, she told herself the half-truth shared with Steve was enough.

'I'll tell him tomorrow.'

As far as inner voices go, her denial was going toe to toe with her conscience.

She smiled at Steve and relaxed as he found her hand and gave it a squeeze, "No shop talk. Let's have a great night, okay?"

This.

This she could focus on. His hand in hers. This feeling he drew out of her. That warmth she felt while reading his words from earlier.

Not the story and facts or discoveries learned. Or how hard change was.

Chicago was her city, and she owned journalism within its streets and skyscrapers. Or she had until the man sitting mere inches away, moved back from overseas. That was a minefield of emotions and decisions.

So, yes. Everything else could be left for tomorrow.

They both laughed nervously as she decided to break the tension and find some tunes. Natasha flipped through several country stations, some current pop music, and some oldies channels before settling on a classic.

Steve chuckled as the band Chicago started playing in the Mustang, "And here I thought you were going to settle on Achy Breaky Heart, or something, Nat."

Natasha laughed as some of that calm returned, "Hey, I got a big soft spot for country music in my heart. So, you never know." His hand returned to the steering wheel, and before they knew it, a few more songs had passed on the classic rock station as they pulled up to the valet parking outside of the Chicago Riverwalk.

Steve gave Natasha a wink and got out of the Mustang. She blew out a breath and collected her thoughts, 'Come on Natasha. It's Steve…just focus on him and have fun tonight.'

Steve opened the passenger door. Any nerves felt 15 minutes ago were left alongside the beats on the street. Natasha slowly emerged from the silver bullet of a ride. He stood handsomely, holding his hand out for her. Their chemistry was palpable for anyone to see. It was as obvious as the red carpet that awaited them.

Steve tried not to ogle, but Natasha was making it difficult. Her bare leg appeared from the slit in her dress. Her cleavage teased, and her collarbone whispered. But it was more than that. It was more than her wrists and cheeks and shoulders. Yes, every inch covered in emerald green, only hinted at every other inch underneath. And that was enough to drive most men crazy. But more than the physical, was the emotion and pull. Everything felt inside, even under all the surfaces he desired, was what taunted the most.

Steve took another breath.

They needed a drink before drool started trickling out. Steve distracted himself as he shut the door behind her and waved two eager valets over. Tossing the keys at them, Steve read the girl's nametag, "Hi Katy. Take care of this for me. No joyriding tonight, alright?"

Katy laughed with her friend and fellow valet Shaun, "Come on, this isn't Ferris Bueller's Day Off. Don't worry…We'll take great care of this hotrod."

The two valets seemed to be fighting over who was going to park the vintage Mustang, but Katy won as they heard a Billy Joel song playing when she got inside."

"Shaun, we just karaoked to this song the other night!"

Steve raised a brow, but Natasha smiled as she gathered her dress.

Katy revved the engine, causing Natasha to jump a little and Steve's eyes to widen, "I really don't want to have to be paying Tony back for a classic '65 Mustang. I can't even think about the sticker shock."

They were halfway up the red carpet as Natasha peeked back to see Shaun hopping in the passenger side. A second later, Katy was off, driving way too fast. The likelihood of them not taking Tony's Gray Lady for a joy ride? It was sinking far below zero right about now as Natasha chuckled, "Well, I will say this. Those kids at least seem to know how to handle a stick…so let's just not worry about that for the night, Steve."

Steve looked back and shook his head but was brought back to the front doors as Tony Stark yelled out to him, "Don't worry about it, Rogers. I told those kids they could have a little fun tonight in a few of my cars that were here."

The red carpet connected the valet drop off, up to the entrance to the ball. A gaggle of press awaited the most famous celebrities, rumored to be attending. But a couple pictures were taken of the hosts and Steve and Natasha.

Tony literally showed off Pepper as he twirled her in the pale blue gown, "Take a picture boys and girls. This woman's beauty is the real prize of the evening!"

"Oh, Tony…stop. They don't want pictures of me. They want pictures of athletes and actresses and singers attending. Maybe politicians if they're bored."

"Hmm, well then I want them for me. Hey, you…picture gal. Send me a copy of those photos and I'll give you a subscription to The Star for a year!"

The photographers didn't really care at all. They'd already moved on to whoever would arrive next as Steve and Natasha watched the couple banter.

"Tony, you realize if you just give away subscriptions, that's not actually gaining a net revenue for us."

Tony grinned, "Yeah, but I'm not a bookie, so none of that means anything to me. Besides, I'd buy 3,000 subscriptions to capture what you look like tonight for eternity, Pep."

Pepper rolled her eyes, but the hint of blush appeared on her cheeks. She couldn't help but smirk as Steve cleared her throat.

Tony feigned surprise, "Heavens! Rogers…Romanoff! How could I forget you were here for even a second. Now these two, Pep…no pictures even needed. One look at the two of them, and woah. That chemistry just sticks with you."

Now Steve and Natasha were the ones rolling their eyes at Tony. Natasha tried to change the subject right away, "This all seems like it will be a wonderful night for charity, Tony."

Natasha attempt at politeness was waved off by Tony, "There'll be none of that tonight, Romanoff. There're enough manners inside the reception to impress The Royal Family. I expect you to act with just as much spunk as you always have. No need to be all formal and cordial outside of the tux and dress. Which if I say so myself, do look gooood on you both."

Steve shook his head and Pepper smacked his shoulder, introducing herself to Natasha before skirting off to meet Tony's parents inside. Natasha just chuckled, "Well, be careful what you wish for, Tony. Apparently, I have a little too much spunk at times."

---

Tony escorted the journalists inside as Natasha couldn't help but widen her gaze at the glamour on display.

Fancy receptions and parties at one of the many event centers in downtown Chicago, were almost a staple of the city. Whether it was for a wedding or a conference, hotels and hospitality businesses thrived because of the revenue that large events brought in. And having a reception, along one of the few Riverwalk locations that could host a large gathering, was a symbol of status and money. But blocking off the majority of the Riverfront, along the streets of Wacker, Wabash, State, and DuSable, was essentially unheard of.

But somehow, the Stark family had managed it.

Maybe it was because most of the people who owned smaller businesses along the Riverwalk had already received a generous gift of a cash payment, for their cooperation in supporting a night of charity. They would shut down for a Friday night. And in return, they received a big check from the Stark Foundation, and attended a fancy ball. Not a bad deal at all. They just had to put a big smile on, and happily did so.

As for the larger corporations? That's where Pepper Potts' marketing expertise really saved the day. Selling it to CEO's and corporate executives, with the angle of showing their charitable sides and donating time sounded good. Giving away a night of business for local youth and parks, would undoubtedly look good. And when Pepper told the executives how well this would sell to the public, it was definitely a mark in the positive column. But when she told them how they'd have a night of schmoozing with all the other executives in the city? Hook, line, and sinker. That was the nail in the coffin.

So, the deals were done, and the Chicago Riverwalk was left to all the guests for Friday night. Over a thousand were expected. And they'd be walk into the same grand entrance Steve and Natasha were now.

With the help of the long and open greenspace and walkways along the river, and a lot of tents in case of weather, the decadence was on full display as they made their way past the red carpet.

Steve had traveled the world. And Natasha was a long-time veteran in Chicago. But what awaited them was a perversion of riches.

Chandeliers and marble flooring with open bars, extravagant appetizers, and a string quartet in the large foyer. Beyond where the cocktail hour was held, a grand ballroom and dining area awaited with warm lighting. An big band orchestra was setting up and testing their sound. White linens sheathed the tables with lush botanical pieces at their centers. Luxurious lanterns and hanging plants adorned from above. Warm lighting with hues of green and brown made everything feel soft. While hints of purples and gold added that regal touch. Waiters were adding fine touches of crystal and china and cloth napkins to all of the tables.

"Don't let the first glance make you think it's going to be a stuffy night. I told Dad we could have an orchestra band, as long as they played some stuff past the 1940's eventually."

Steve joked before about how much money the Starks threw around. But this…was something else. And regardless of the showboating at times, the amount of money spent out of their pockets on this night of charity, had to be astonishing.

Steve patted his shoulder, "Tony, wow. This is really something."

"Yeah, I know, Rogers…Pepper and Mom really went to town. Supposed to feel like going into a garden at night…or secret garden or something. I think they knocked it out of the park. But anything for charity, right?" Tony grinned at Steve and added, "And…anything to help you two lovebirds out, of course."

"Tony," Steve said with a little annoyance as his hand pressed into Natasha's back.

Natasha chuckled, "Well, Tony, I hope you won't be disappointed. I'm sure you've heard…Steve and I are just friends."

Pressure and time. With enough of it, cracks eventually show on any surface.

Such a simple phrase packed a punch, and was about to take this night down a road neither journalist saw coming.

It was meant to be light. A nothing, off handed joke. But it came out wrong and immediately landed with a thud.

It lay lifeless at their feet as an awkwardness fell between them and Tony. Steve cleared his throat and Natasha wished she could take it back. And Tony was all here for jokes and games, when he didn't have to revel in the awkwardness of two journalists, navigating the choppy waters of unspoken feelings.

Instead, Tony gave Steve a look that could only be described as silently telling him, 'Good luck with that, Rogers.'

Natash had meant it as a joke. She really did. And if she'd been more confident in her feelings for Steve, maybe she could've remedied the ill-timed quip right away. Maybe this course could have been corrected before they'd taken their first drink.

Instead, a little doubt crept into that tiny hairline crack.

Does Natasha over correct, and clearly state they are so much more than just friends, for Tony and Steve to hear? Does she double down and go all in on the joking nature of it all?

No. Natasha didn't do anything, and the joke just lay where it fell flat, as this giant warning sign with Steve and Natasha's arrangement. A warning sign, at a ball, with all their friends and elites and celebrities arriving. With them dressed up in a tuxedo and green dress at the event of the season.

The thing about jokes in the muddy waters of an undefined relationship, is that they can get lost and create ripples. And as a result, everything else becomes a little dirty and unclear. Unlike the muddy waters their feelings swam in, that shift in the air was as obvious as someone screaming in a library.

Every second guess Natasha was having was only matched by Steve, wondering what she really meant by it. He blew out a breath, and Natasha fiddled with her clutch. And Tony got the hell out of there, "Hey would you look at that. The time…Wow, I gotta run. Gotta go check the center pieces. Count the silverware. Origami the napkins…Help Pepper with something…anything. You kids have fun!"

Tony shook his head and was off, and Steve's hand dropped from the small of Natasha's back. She knew she instantly made a silly little mistake. A mistake she should just apologize for, and clear up, right now. Wanting to clarify, Natasha reached for his arm, but timing had other plans.

The hustle and bustle of the evening was in full force.

Maybe coming to a ball with a thousand guests, tied up tight with corsets, tuxes, and unspoken feelings, was producing unexpected results. Privacy wasn't an option right now.

Before any clarities could be made, MJ ran over, screaming at Natasha, "Oh my god, Natasha. Did you see who's here? I have all her songs on my phone, and Peter and I were even singing to her latest hit in the car ride here!"

MJ looked gorgeous in her yellow satin gown, and Peter was already talking Steve's ear off about a professional basketball player and the Chicago Bears quarterback who just arrived. The articles and entertainment news stories about celebrity sightings that might occur at this evening's ball, were ringing true.

Ripples from the badly timed joke were in full force now. And clearing up such a silly little thing seemed out of reach at the moment. So, Steve and Natasha now stood, separated by Peter and MJ, trying to smile pleasantly and not make things more awkward.

The cocktail hour had begun, and more and more people were arriving. A Chicago Theater group, who'd be performing at dinner, around Tony and Pepper's hosting. A few other athletes, some local chefs, and singers. A couple of Hollywood celebrities that were in town, shooting a movie. And of course, the business executives. CEOs and brokers. Lawyers and Presidents of banks. All with their partners and dates on their arms. Natasha and Wanda's guess was proven accurate. There was no shortage of black dresses in sight.

The cocktail reception was filling quickly, and those distractions were in full force. A minute turned to a few. And then a few minutes more. And 'just friends,' sounded more like a thesis statement instead of a joke at this point.

Natasha and Steve's distance only seemed to grow a little more as MJ literally pulled Natasha away to point out a Broadway actor and another comedian that'd just arrived. Bucky and Wanda found them, and the group grew bigger. Clint Barton and his wife, Laura, who looked beautiful in her purple velvet gown, were right on the Barnes' heels. They'd brought Harley with them, but he was hanging out with his friends in a corner already.

Apparently, Wanda wasn't kidding when she'd told Natasha about her red dress. She'd already told Bucky to behave a couple of times since leaving Natasha's apartment.

The fact that the entire Herald and Star staff were intermixed in their socializing right now, only highlighted Pepper and Fury's recent conversations about having more in common than ever, as both papers increased in sales.

The room was packed, and the music began to play. The drinks were poured, and mingling and laughter rang over every inch of marble flooring.

The cocktail hour seemed more like a waltz at the beginning.

And while all the other guests seemed to glide easily, drinking and appetizing to their hearts' content, Steve and Natasha were simply not in rhythm. A little awkward tension. A little more space. And now Natasha was whisked away again, as Steve saw just how much of a starlet she was to Chicago journalism.

Natasha was spun around and put a smile on, as some colleagues and acquaintances filled her dance card at the moment. She twisted and turned as this waltz turned on its head while a group of advertisers took a few minutes of her time.

Steve was left watching her, as he tried to focus on the group of people around him.

Natasha glanced back and only caught his stare for a second before shoulders were bumped and more people crowded around. They were getting lost in the shuffle, which could be expected. The cocktail hour was the time for mingling and stuffy conversations, if there ever was one. They'd have the rest of the night to dance and drink and frolic with friends. But they hadn't expected the space between them to be filled with increasing frustration.

Natasha caught Mayor Coulson arriving with his wife and respected his wish this afternoon, only waving at him. He nodded and returned to his conversation with Governor Hammer, which looked strained as always.

Steve wasn't allowed to stand around too long either. If Natasha was the longstanding Queen of Chicago journalism. Then Steve was the new Prince. He was introduced right away to Howard and Maria Stark and several of Pepper and Tony's friends. A dramatic cheers was given, to Steve's rocket-like rise at The Star. And Natasha could only hear the noise, with where she stood in the crowd now.

The cocktail hour was going too fast as sushi and caviar and fine charcuterie assortments were snacked on. Top shelf liquor was poured, and more local celebrities arrived.

About 15 minutes later, Natasha had worked her way back toward the circle and Governor Hammer intervened. She'd had run ins with the man before, and had even turned down his request at a date a few years back. But his invasion of personal space and being a little too handsy with women he found attractive, was well known. And it was on full display as Steve grabbed another drink about 30 feet away.

Natasha forced a smile and got out of the conversation quick enough as she pulled the Governor's new wife over. But Governor Hammer had managed to put his hand where Steve's was before, on the small of her back. And then on her shoulders. And then whispered something in her ear before she finally escaped.

She didn't hear what Hammer said. And honestly, she was glad she hadn't. If bodyguards weren't plentiful for all the politicians and celebrities attending, Steve might have made his flash of anger known. Natasha might have too.

But she rolled her eyes and walked away. Curving around a few other guests, Natasha caught the edge of The Star and Herald circle again. Peter and MJ were oblivious to any drama going on inside their circle, and only focused on the drama of all the other guests. Natasha thought about nodding at Steve to just make a run for it, but Peter smacked Bucky in the arm and yelled at MJ, "Babe…look who Sam came with!"

MJ had just been complementing Wanda on her ravishing red look as her eyes almost popped out, "Oh my god, Peter! Natasha…Wanda…Sam is here with Maria Hill!"

Another distraction. And another double take.

Heads turned and mouths fell open.

They all glanced over and Sam's coy answers this morning, on who he was bringing, only made his smile even brighter now as he walked by, "Catch you guys later. Maria wants to introduce me to some people…her people. I'm here with someone who has people!"

Sam laughed and his friends did too. Wanda started talking about Good Morning Chicago's lead news anchor and how cute her and Sam were together.

Natasha groaned, finishing her glass of champagne. The only private moment she was granted was with Wanda, who was right next to her, "God, it's like I've completely forgotten how to act around men."

Wanda was happily blind until this very moment. But she looked back and forth between Steve and Natasha, and quickly realized what was going on. Wanda pulled Natasha a couple feet away, "Natasha. The man has got it bad for you. Just tell him you didn't mean it. You can't clear anything up if you just let things fester and grow."

Speaking of festering and growing…

What was nagging at Natasha was more than just a stupid joke. She hadn't told him about her conversation with Jessica Jones and Coulson earlier. And that little devil inside was winning the battle right now, "Wanda, it's not like we're in a place to talk…he just acted weird about it, and now I feel like if anything I say, I'm just going to upset him."

Wanda rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, "Well, I think the fact that you're not saying anything, is what is upsetting Natasha. You do this. You get in your head, and you spin until you've created a rut, deep enough that you can't get out of, so you just say fuck it and move on. This is silly. Just go talk to the man."

'Don't wait 'til tomorrow. Tell him now.'

If it was the closing words of her conscience for the evening, it could be believed. Because the inner voice was harder to pick out than any single voice amongst the chaos of the room right now.

That's what this hour was full of.

Celebration. Caviar. Champagne. Charity.

And the result?

Chaos.

Natasha was pulled away from her friend this time, as a couple of Northwestern Professors in attendance snagged a moment with her.

Wanda returned to the journalist corner of the reception and just shook her head at her husband, who could only smile lovingly at her. They were in sync. A happily married couple, who communicated openly with each other, and could take in the evening, stress-free.

Steve and Natasha were not in sync.

It was like a live action game of Row, Row, Row Your Boat was in play. Steve and Natasha kept trying to get back to each other, but were constantly interrupted. And they let the interruptions happen. Because right now, dealing with the ease of distractions was a lot better than the stress of whatever the conversation behind, 'just friends,' was going to be.

Steve was pulled away by Pepper again, who wanted him to meet Happy Hogan and a few other investors for The Star.

And Natasha's shoulder was tapped, this time by her publicist, Agatha, who refused to take 'no,' for an answer. Agatha's laugh was loud and boisterous as she touted Natasha to a couple of publishing reps, "You should hear Natasha's ideas for her second book! She's itching to get started, with all the recent buzz she's created at her little paper."

Natasha wrote her book for a new venture. But a novelist, she was not. And she really did hate every part of the press tour and book signings. And she had no intention to start writing a second book anytime soon, if ever. Her little paper was not little at all, and Agatha knew that. But Agatha was great at her job too, and she was just trying to do what she did best. Tout her author, and make her publishing company known in a room full of people.

Laughter poured out and drinks were filled. Glasses chimed as cheerful comments were made. The string quartet crooned, echoing in the background of all the noise.

It was hard for anyone to think beyond what this was. A cocktail hour of meets and greets and schmoozing conversations. For most of the guests, it was a happy, controlled chaos. A blissful buzz of drink and anticipation for the night. But for Steve and Natasha? The chaos of emotions churned, blending with all the noise on the outside as thoughts thudded away internally.

30 minutes in, and Natasha finally swam to the lifeboat of her friendly journalist circle.

Natasha exhaled dramatically, as Laura and MJ smiled and pointed out a few more arrivals. Bucky nodded at Natasha, across their circle, and he could tell something was up. Wanda whispered to him, filling him in. And Bucky just rolled his eyes, "Jesus, Natasha could start a fire at the bottom of the ocean with her sabotaging."

MJ gathered the courage to go and talk to her favorite singer in attendance, with her A list movie star of a boyfriend. Peter laughed, "Man, MJ better make her move now, because people are starting to swarm around them."

And they were. A horde of press followed the most famous of guests. Flashes and selfies. Fake laughter and fawning. The bigger the celebrity, the larger the crowd was around them. And the hotter the air was, from all the fake compliments being thrown around.

But MJ came back 10 minutes later and jumped into Peter's arms, "She signed the inside of my purse, Peter!"

Steve was still away, making the rounds with Pepper as Fury came up to Natasha.

"You manage to steer clear of Governor Hammer, Romanoff?"

"God no. That man has a lot of gall to be as handsy as he is, in front of his wife."

Bucky joked at Clint, "Yeah, but isn't it like…his fourth wife."

Wanda smacked her husband as his eyes found Fury's, "Sorry, boss…I didn't mean anything."

Fury chuckled and raised his glass, "No need, Barnes. And none of my previous marriages failed as a result of me being too handsy. Although, I'd watch your tongue if you're around the Governor. He has quite the array of bodyguards with him tonight."

Over an hour had passed, and the controlled chaos was like a circus. It was a fancy circus. But still a circus. Merriment and champagne and wine corks popping seemed to drown out any common sense.

60 minutes might as well have been 120 or 200 more.

That lack of being in sync left Natasha and Steve feeling completely cold and off. It was something so small, like a zipper getting off its track. But lack of attention to fix the root of the problem created a mess. Add lots of force to push past the hiccup, and all the distractions a party could muster. And now, that zipper was tangled with what was underneath.

This waltz was turned on its head.

---

Natasha should have just pulled Steve back outside on the red carpet to clear everything up an hour ago.

That little devil inside asked herself, 'What did you mean, Romanoff?'

Natasha rolled her eyes at herself, scanning the room again and finally found Steve. He was about 50 feet away, near one of the bar stations. Only he wasn't alone. He was talking to a beautiful brunette, in a lovely red dress and lips to match. She had a man at her side who was clearly her husband.

It only took a second for Natasha to recognize the woman. She'd done a little googling in the last 24 hours since Steve and her shared so much about their lives at Rhodey's bar.

Steve was talking with his ex-wife, Peggy.

Quicksand was too soft of a term to describe the feelings inside Natasha now.

Natasha had started on one end of the spectrum, and Steve was on the other. Somehow, they'd met in the middle and Natasha could feel herself drifting closer to the idea of them. Meaning everything in addition to, 'just friends.' But assumptions and thoughts weren't guaranteed, even with zero interruptions or distractions.

If it was just Steve and Natasha, locked in a room together for eternity, maybe they'd figure this out on their own. Maybe they'd take a leap, without ever having to define what this was first.

Maybe.

But they weren't locked away, with only themselves to deal with. They lived in the real world, with full lives, and every beat on the street tossed their way. Here in the real world of life, communication mattered in relationships. And it all came to fruition in this room.

If a person wasn't willing to say what was in their heart, how are true feelings ever to be known?

Here, tonight? The entire evening piled on to Steve and Natasha's muddled mess, and was full of distractions. And extravagant ones at that. Just as Natasha took another drink of champagne, she felt a tap on her shoulder.

The noise of the evening just grew louder.

Her former fiancée, now lead prosecutor in the District Attorney's office had arrived. Matt Murdock saw her and wasn't going to miss a chance to say hello, "Heya Tasha. I'd say you're looking good, but that's as old of news as it comes."

Natasha smiled at her ex, "Well, I'd say you're looking as sharp as you always did. But that's a lie. Somehow, you look even better now, Matt. It's good to see you."

And it was good. As far as amicable break-ups went, Matt and Natasha really had nothing but best wishes for each other when they ended their engagement. Natasha made the first move to cease and desist, but Matt told her at the time he'd felt the same way. When it came to ending things, Natasha was going to get there first, like always. But they'd known it deep down since he proposed. They just weren't meant to be. If by some miracle, Natasha wouldn't have won the battle of breaking up first, Matt would have finished the job.

"Get in here, Tasha."

Natasha relaxed a little seeing her old flame, because truly they had left each other on such good terms. And the times they'd run into each other over the last decade plus, had only been positive. There was no heat between them, just warmth and respect for each other.

Natasha leaned into his hug and kissed his cheek naturally, "Where's Jennifer? You guys actually get a sitter for the kids, or are you flying solo tonight?"

"Hi Natasha, wow. I love your dress."

Jennifer, who Matt knew from law school, was his girlfriend within a few months after he and Natasha broke up. They'd been married almost nine years ago now. And they had two beautiful kids and lived up north of the city, near where they all went to school.

"Hi Jen, it's great to see you. You look lovely too."

After 15 minutes of natural catching up, Jennifer kissed her husband and told him to meet her at their dinner table. The thing about exes, is that you can tell it was never really meant to be, when there's no tension or lingering thoughts remaining.

It really was a natural conversation, so before Matt went to join his wife, he gave a concerning look at Natasha, "You doing okay, Tasha? You get those Russian Ballet tickets you texted about?"

Natasha nodded, "Thanks so much for those, Matt. It was a big help."

Matt waved it off because it wasn't a big deal to him, but added, "Been reading your dailies, Red. Razor sharp as always. But I can tell…this stuff with the L-Trains and John Doe and Fisk, it's a lot bigger, right?"

She laughed, "It's always bigger when there's hint of mob, political, or corporate involvement."

"Natasha, I'd hardly call Wilson Fisk coming out of his cave to do an interview with J. Jonah Jameson, a 'hint.'"

She rolled her eyes, "Well hopefully by the time I can prove it's more than a hint, the cops can bring charges, and you can prosecute the bastard."

Matt grinned, "You knock 'em out of the park like always, and the cops and us legal folk will be there to catch your hits like always."

Natasha shrugged, "Hey, that's why you're a swanky prosecutor. And I'm rolling around in the muck of whispers and story leads, right?"

Matt saw her deflection and bravado for what it was and genuinely replied, "I know you can handle it. But just be careful, okay?"

The cocktail lounge was clearing out a bit as Natasha smiled and looked around. Only a few seconds passed as she took a big breath and found the reason why her nerves were on the fritz. Peggy and her husband left to find their dinner table, and Steve was looking right at her.

There wasn't anything but concern staring back at Natasha right now. Concern from her ex, truly checking in on someone he cared about a great deal, making sure she was doing okay. And concern from someone who couldn't be an ex because he wasn't even…current. Because Steve and Natasha didn't talk about what this was. And then Natasha had to go and make a stupid joke, bringing up the fact that they weren't anything.

Natasha felt every ounce of it as Steve refused to look away. Matt looked over, and joined the club of Steve and Natasha observers quickly.

A person didn't have to be an Einstein to catch on to Steve and Natasha's…vibe. It was pretty evident as the cocktail hall emptied quickly, with the evening moving along.

Matt couldn't help but chuckle, "You know, I always thought you'd end up with a writer, Tasha."

Natasha's trance was broken as she looked away from Steve, "What?"

Matt patted her arm, "You've always needed someone who can give it back, as good as you dish it out."

Natasha shook her head, "Matt, there's nothing…"

Matt held up his hand, "First, you can't pull that crap on me. My Natasha Romanoff bullshit detector has always been good. Second, I don't really need to know anything, Tasha. Last…I'll just say I don't think you ever looked at me that way, throughout our entire relationship."

He winked at her as Natasha frowned, "Matt, I think you're just looking for gossip because you and Jen never have a night out together anymore."

He laughed as they walked toward the dining area, "Natasha Romanoff. I work for the District Attorney. Jen works for the Public Defender's office. Believe me, we have our fill of gossip. You and I may not be in each other's lives anymore, but I know that look just the same as I did back then."

Natasha rolled her eyes, "And what look is that, Murdock?"

Matt caught Steve walking over and smirked down at her, "The look when Natasha Romanoff can't find any words to say."

Natasha watched Matt find his table as Steve cleared his throat again, now at her side, "Looked like your dance card was pretty full there, Natasha. A lot of people wanted to catch your ear."

It was the first words spoken to each other in well over an hour.

'Just tell him. Tell him you didn't mean it, and you want to show him just how much.'

If the wagon of life lessons was passing by, this token of advice was sure to be handed out. Don't wait for a night full of distractions, drinks, and entertainment to have a clarifying conversation with someone as important, as Steve and Natasha were to each other.

Romanoff time existed in her world. But tonight's ball was on a tight schedule and wouldn't wait for Natasha as Howard and Maria Stark's voice rang from the stage. They introduced Pepper and Tony as their MC's and welcomed everyone to the Inaugural Ball.

Natasha forced a smile at Steve, "Well, you haven't been back in the city for long, Steve. But you seemed to have a line of people talking with you too."

'But the only one I want to talk with is you, Nat.'

That was his internal voice. And 90 minutes ago, Steve might have found the courage to tell her, those exact words in the vintage Mustang. Their connection felt so natural when it was just the two of them. But somehow, everything became twisted and felt upside down right now.

It only made Steve wish he'd just kept driving with Natasha for the night and not even come here.

Because one thing was for certain. Even if Steve was trying to stay positive, he couldn't be certain Natasha was joking earlier. They hadn't had a conversation about what tonight was, and how much Wednesday night at the pub, had pushed them into new territory.

What was certain, was Steve finally admitted to himself that being, 'just friends,' wasn't good enough anymore. A little more annoyance seeped into Steve Rogers at how this night was unfolding. Natasha looked at him while Tony and Pepper took the stage, and Steve just offered her his arm, "Let's go sit down for dinner, Natasha."

Always a gentleman, but Natasha could tell there was a different tension between them. It was more than awkward, and it wasn't the sexual kind that had been increasing with each text, call, and meet up over the last month. Instead, it was a strain of confusion and misconstrued words, being unsure of the other's wants and expectations.

The horribly timed joke had been the symptom.

Not the problem.

That wagon of lessons tossed another timeless one into the ether of life. It's not the logical times, where things stumble. It's after a build of pressure and time, when the proverbial straw breaks the back upon which it weighs.

That straw could be anything across the spectrum of life. It could be road rage setting in after a stressful day, just because someone cut an individual off. It could be dishes being left in the sink or garbage not being taken out. It could one too many rolls of an eye, or passive aggressive scoffs.

Or it could be something small, like an awkward joke that falls flat, causing an eruption of emotion within. Emotion that now simmered, just under the surface.

Seeing Steve's annoyance on display, as much as he tried to hide it, only caused the same reaction in her. Natasha glanced around the festive room and caught Matt and Jennifer waving, and Peggy and her husband Dan smiling toward Steve as well. Most of the entertainment reporters were lingering around the front, near the tables where the celebrities sat.

Like the Oscars Ceremony, more prominent attendees sat at tables toward the front. Flashes were going off around MJ's favorite singer and her boyfriend, and the Bears quarterback who just pulled up a chair next to them. Steve and Natasha weren't the only ones dealing with an awkward tension.

---

The MC's had the stage and had a costume change as well. They were dressed as Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers.

A mimic of a golden age passed, but the glamour remained on Tony's long-tailed tux and Pepper's flowing satin gown received applause. Harley and his friends were to the side of Tony and Pepper's head table. Sam was sitting with Maria at hers. Fury was at a table, smoking cigars with retired journalists and former colleagues of his. Which left Steve and Natasha right in the middle of their table of eight.

MJ and Peter. Bucky and Wanda. Clint and Laura. And the two of them.

They eight of them were at the very back of the dining hall, thankfully so. The air was less stuffy towards the back, where they could wine and dine and just enjoy. That was the plan at least. Bucky could tell whatever was up an hour ago, only worsened as Steve gave a somber look, before shaking it off and trying to mask it again.

That basket of annoyance was going around, and Bucky reached in to grab his share. He frowned, leaning over to his stubborn idiot of a friend, "Can't we leave you two alone for five minutes without you trying to screw this up, Natasha?"

It was loud enough in the room that no one else heard, but Wanda knew enough to pull her husband back as Natasha glared at him.

Steve caught it as Natasha tried to fake a smile. MJ and the rest of the table were oblivious, only because of liquor and laughter and all the distractions Chicago could give. Bucky glared at his friend, despite his wife digging her nails into his thigh, and eyed at her to make this right.

Natasha huffed out a breath and leaned over to Steve.

Of course, she chose now.

Right at the beginning of the ball, as Tony's opening act was beginning.

Steve could make out the line of her cleavage a lot better than any of her words as she mumbled, "Steve, I don't want you to think anything…"

A tiny explosion went off on stage as balloons and confetti dropped all over the Stark family and Pepper, "Now let's get this Ball started off with a bang!"

The bad Dad joke was followed with a 'ba dum tss,' from the orchestra which had people hamming it up. It was the right kind of a bad little joke.

Steve gave a polite but tight smile at his…friend, because he sure as hell wasn't calling it a date at this point, and a little more frustration emerged, "Natasha, don't worry. I'm not thinking anything."

Okay, there was a veiled barb in his words, and she felt it. Which only provoked that stubborn devil inside her, which was always ready to go. She leaned in, whispering directly at him now, "Just because I'm dressed like a lady, doesn't mean I can't call bullshit, Rogers."

Words were being understood loud and clear now. By Steve and by Bucky as her voice ticked up a notch.

Natasha stared directly at Steve as that tension ticked up and Bucky muttered, "Good god," from his cheap seats. Wanda pulled him back and pointed towards the stage.

Just as a chorus line of dancers made their way out to an orchestral arrangement, Steve turned straight toward Natasha now, "And just because you can swear like a sailor, doesn't mean you're getting a rise out of me, Romanoff."

Well, that was bullshit. Because both their tempers were prodded at. And whispers became more of a low tone of words. And that other type of tension came rushing back, along with the awkward aggravation between them.

Something so apparent to logical thinking creatures, can seem oblivious to the blind.

And as blind as Natasha was, with refusing to admit what her mind and heart had been stepping closer to, over the last six weeks, she was only met by Steve's lack of vision right now.

Natasha was tongue tied and scared, regardless of inching closer to admitting her feelings, and in response, Steve was scared of his worst fears. That Natasha really didn't feel what he did, and her bad joke was a hint of her true feelings. He was more than afraid that Natasha only wanted to be friends.

So, Steve decided to avoid it and take a page from her playbook. He was being just as passive aggressive as she was right now, "You know, Romanoff…it's great you could talk to everyone in attendance except me."

What a tango this sideways waltz was turning into.

Their faces were only a couple inches apart as heated words were exchanged. The chorus line of women kicked high and did the splits to Ooh's and Aah's. And the orchestra's tempo kicked into high gear as Tony and Pepper started performing their version of Anything you can do, I can do better, in front of all the dancers. Cheerful applauses joined in with whistles.

The room was loud, but their tiny bubble was hot and quiet.

"What the hell is your problem, Steve? It's not my fault your ex-wife is here."

That didn't have anything to do with anything. But it didn't really matter at this point.

Blind meet stubborn.

Natasha didn't mean it. She knew there was nothing to it. But she wanted to win this battle and cause a little more sting than his words did to her. Steve narrowed his eyes as he took a big drink and leaned in again, "At least you know who I was talking to. And what do you care if I was talking with Peggy and Dan? We're just friends…just like us."

A lot of double meaning was in the heated battle as Steve swallowed and Natasha's chest heaved. The fact his jaw twitched, and her cleavage rose and fell with each huff wasn't helping their frustration.

Jokes at the table were made about not knowing Tony could tap dance and that Pepper could twirl.

Just as Tony was highlighting the high-level government officials in attendance and celebrities sure to write a big donation check, Natasha fully tuned it all out. She inched forward, poking Steve's shoulder now, "Well I'm so happy we're all just friends, Steve. Everyone at this table. Me and my ex. You and yours. We're all just one big happy family of friends."

Stubborn meet stupid.

Steve's nostrils flared at the contact from her finger, "Your words, Romanoff. Not mine. I'm glad you're so goddamn happy."

Before anything else could be muttered, waiters emerged from surrounding doors to deliver everyone's five-star dinner. Awkward silences and concerning looks were gone. Now, fiery stares and tension remained between the two people at the table who paid no attention to Tony Stark's tap routine.

Bucky actually threw his napkin at Natasha, "Hey Romanoff, pass me the water, will you?"

Natasha sat back in her chair, bringing a little cold water to that invincible timebomb between Steve and her. She knew what her friend was doing and snarked, "Bucky, you have a pitcher of water by Wanda."

Bucky gave a toothy grin, "Huh, would you look at that. It's amazing what I can see…right in front of me when I look." Wanda's hand playfully smacked the back of his head as MJ showed Laura her pictures of the celebrities from earlier.

As close as Steve and Natasha just were, spatting back and forth at each other, they felt further apart then they had in weeks. Shifting in his jacket, Steve politely thanked the waitress for his dinner. Natasha glared at Bucky but then smiled quickly at her waiter for dinner too.

It was good their table was at the very back of the room, because the way things were going, Bucky thought Natasha and Steve might be using the table as a sex prop…or a weapon by the end of the night. Either option was a toss-up at this point.

Natasha could feel the tightness in her neck fading as everyone's focus at the table shifted to eating dinner. Sipping on her champagne, she tried to do the same and enjoy the food in front of her.

It really was extravagant. Lobster tail with scallops and a small center cut prime rib. Fire roasted vegetables and garlic mashed potatoes. Warm rolls and a honey glaze, with side salads for everyone. It was a feast, but the smells and sounds of a room full of happy guests filled the air immediately.

Tony and Pepper had taken a break backstage as the Chicago Theater group performed musical numbers from their current shows in the city.

In an alternate timeline, some light-hearted jokes might be exchanged right now. Maybe a joke could've been shared, about how Natasha was obviously the chef behind the feast in front of them, if things hadn't gotten away from them. If Natasha hadn't fibbed to Steve and kept her discoveries from earlier in the day to herself. Maybe a joke about frozen dinners or crosswords would bring a laugh, if a stupid joke hadn't triggered worries and doubts to emerge.

But this was the timeline they were in.

Natasha and Steve stopped talking to each other all together for most of the dinner. A few awkward moments popped up, but Wanda and MJ and Laura were pros at keeping the conversation going. Commenting on dresses and some of the guests. Trying to get Sam to wave to them from his promotion to a first-class table with Maria. MJ told everyone about the celebrity rumors, that her favorite singer in attendance was cheating on her A-list boyfriend with the Bears quarterback. It was met with a few chuckles and eyerolls, but they'd soon find out that there was a lot of truth to those rumors.

After about 30 minutes of devouring the food, Natasha and Steve had acted their asses off, trying to forget about their stubborn stare down from before.

Steve even filled up her water (after he'd filled up everyone else's,) and she took a breath, smiling softly at him.

Why was this so damn hard for her?

If logic were winning the battle, she would recognize what had been tapped into this evening.

This whole friend's thing was at an inflection point. And they were right back to where they began this little relationship several weeks ago, with Steve wanting to move forward. With Natasha knowing deep down she wanted to move in that same direction, but not being able to admit it. Back then it was because of the story and their rivalry and not having time…

And. And. And.

All the excuses in the world couldn't make Natasha feel good about her actions then. Any notion of being enemies, or solely rivals hazing each other with childish pranks, went out the window when they spent an evening drinking and laughing at Navy Pier. Their relationship managed to evolve, regardless of mistakes.

But now, after several weeks of having daily contact with the man next to her, Natasha was in too deep. Steve was too, but the difference was simple.

Steve fully admitted to himself that he wanted more. He wanted something deeper, beyond attraction. He wanted to not just be lost, but to fully lose himself in that quicksand with her.

A chance was staring at both of them, to move forward together or stay where they were alone.

And Steve was just as strong and stubborn as Natasha. Just as gifted and smart. Just as driven and resolute, knowing who he was and what he wanted in his professional calling. But he was also a couple steps further down the road of emotional evolution. And he knew when he heard the word friends an hour ago, it wasn't good enough. And it wasn't what he wanted with the woman to his left.

A woman that drove him crazy in every good and bad way.

In addition to all those things, Natasha also had a knack of regressing on that evolutionary road, when challenged or pissed off. And with each step backwards, she did what she always did. She tried to convince herself that she didn't need anything in her life that she didn't already have.

It wasn't working this time around though. Not with Steve.

So, if Natasha was trying to answer the question of why this was so hard…she might spin herself into a tizzy if she couldn't look in the mirror.

And as far as the objective party to her left went, it was clear to James Buchanan Barnes.

Crystal clear.

Wanda and Bucky had talked about it a few times in the last month, and even joked about it when Steve and Natasha first met, fully in their prank and hair pulling stage. They'd even rehashed the discussion on their drive over to the ball after leaving Natasha's apartment a couple hours earlier.

---

"James, Natasha is really into him. She doesn't come out and say it, but god you can tell. I've never seen her like this before." Bucky smirked and held her hand as he drove, "Well, that's the issue, Wanda. Natasha doesn't come out and say it…because she's scared of losing a lock on who she is. Natasha Romanoff, journalist extraordinaire."

Wanda frowned, kissing the back of his hand, "Well, Natasha has known who she is in that regard…for so long, that I don't know. It'll be interesting to see if she can let someone in enough to realize that growing means making room, not changing who you are entirely."

Bucky winked at her, "Yeah, yeah…old dog, new tricks. I told her just as much, yesterday. I never had to even think about any of that with you, Babe."

Wanda blushed but rolled her eyes, "James, we've been together pretty much our entire lives. It never seemed like a choice. Plus, I'm the only one who would possibly put up with you."

Bucky wiggled his eyebrows, "And I'm the only one who could possibly appreciate how beautiful you are."

Their over-the-top flirtation was paused as Bucky tossed his keys to the same valets. They'd driven their own car and didn't have a hotrod for Katy and Shaun to take a joyride in, but it didn't stop Bucky from making a joke, "Careful now kids. If you two work hard all your lives, maybe you'll be able to own an eight-year-old car, approaching 150,000 miles someday too."

Wanda chuckled as she took her husband's arm, "I sure hope Natasha can get out of her own way. Because it's clear they have a connection, James."

Bucky sighed, "Well, the thing about Rogers is…he's already gotten to the point where he knows he wants something. You can see it all over his face. And he's not afraid to go toe to toe with Romanoff. I don't know…Steve won't wait around for her to take a chance forever. I just hope they get a fair shake before it all goes kablewy."

Wanda nudged his shoulder, "Kablewy?"

He gave a smirk, "You're right, Darlin. You are the only one to ever put up with me."

Bucky grabbed her tight and kissed her firmly, dipping them into a romantic pose.

A couple of whistles from guests arriving after them, accompanied the public display of affection as the married couple came up for air, "Now let's go rub shoulders with the city's rich and famous…show 'em what they're missing."

Wanda shook her head, as she stood up…a little breathless and blushing, but she was filled with a look of love and adoration for her husband as they made their way inside.

---

Now, a couple hours later, Bucky sat right next to his dear friend and colleague who was in fact, making her best efforts to make things go kablewy with Steve.

Bucky shot a warning glare, as if Natasha could read his mind. He even went so far as to send her a text message, "You and Rogers are going to cause all of us to overheat if you don't knock it off. Play nice and act like a lady."

Her eyes narrowed as Natasha read her phone, before returning a glare at Bucky. Wanda shook her head, "I think we should all be putting our phones away to enjoy the evening."

MJ and Peter looked like they could grow a third eye from talk of putting phones down as Laura chuckled, "It's okay you guys…take as many pictures and add to the celebrity gossip all you want. Just enjoy the show too."

Wanda gave a warm smile to Natasha, trying to show a little more finesse than her husband, but whether she was receiving any input was unclear.

The musical numbers were done, as Pepper and Tony's parents brought different auction items onto the stage. Bidding commenced as Tony officially started the charity part of this ball, "Now let's get to showing off, just how much we'll spend tonight. Let's make an embarrassing amount of money for the city's youth and parks, shall we?"

Dessert was served as dinner plates were taken away, and Natasha had calmed down a little from the heated exchange before. Steve had as well, but it was obvious he was bothered.

That evolutionary road was a bitch when you've traveled far enough down it, only to see how far behind others were.

This wasn't a drawn-out teenage romance, with one party being too emotional or angst filled. These were grown adults, with lives relished and lived in. With mistakes made and lessons learned. They weren't seeking perfection, rather someone to accept them for all their flaws.

Steve felt it. He recognized something inside that was stronger than anything he'd felt in a very long time. And while he thought he recognized that something, inside of Natasha too, he was scared to death that she wasn't going to move.

Steve was 41-years old and knew which direction he wanted to go on that road. And now, things had gotten all twisted with the person who'd made him really think over the last month. And now a silly little joke landed like a brick on a barefoot. A silly little joke, triggering fears and worries to surface.

Steve might as well have had a teleprompter in front of his face, transcribing his thoughts, because it was plain as day to Wanda and Bucky.

Not rivals. Not frenemies. Not friendship.

And the journey over the last six weeks was as equally delicious as it was aggravating.

Natasha thought of all her conversations with Fury and Bucky, and most importantly herself over the course of the last month. It wasn't just lust and hormones running amuck. It was more profound than superficial wants. And the more Natasha tried to wave it off, the more she knew, just how deep she was in this muddled mess too.

But she was fighting it still, in a different way than the handsome gentleman to her right. Natasha frowned, as if having this conversation with herself was going to help right now.

The first bid came in for a signed football helmet from the Bears quarterback in attendance. It went for $75,000. Way over the market price, even for a talented athlete. But that was the evening's example of just how generous people were willing to be with their wallets. The amount of liquor and champagne being dispersed helped loosen the purse strings too.

Pepper and Tony continued their variety show act, miming and doing little dances with each item on display. And Howard and Maria pressured their friends and even purchased a few items themselves. A sculpture went for $200,000 and a couple of sets of framed photographs of Chicago's skyline went for $100,000 each.

The highest auction piece on the stage, was an old bootlegging still. It had been crafted into a beautiful custom piece of furniture. The bootlegging still once made rye whiskey, distributed to one of Al Capone's favorite speakeasies. And the whiskey produced was said to be one of his favorites. The craftwork was one of a kind, and brought in a whopping $680,000 with a standing ovation after a five-minute bidding war.

An hour later, over six million dollars had already been raised as Howard closed out the open bidding part of the evening on the high-ticket items, "For those of you that didn't win one of our prizes up here, take a look at the exhibition room in the west wing. You can make bids on the silent auction going on through the evening."

Maria added, "And if you feel like just writing a check, no one will stop you. We want to start this Inaugural Ball off with a real bang. So, let's all donate something."

Tony finished his official duties on stage as he kicked off the rest of the night, "And now, for the best part of the evening. I'm sure you've all seen enough of my high kicks and two-step on stage. It's time for everyone to join the fun. Let's boogie!"

The orchestra started with a lot of pomp and circumstance, as they played the classic big band era tune, Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy. The crowd erupted into cheers. It wouldn't all be music from the speakeasy days, but the flare was appreciated, regardless. The ballroom was the most magical part of the evening yet, waiting for the guests to join in.

A large wooden floor, parquet in design, with glowing fairy lights draping overhead awaited the guests as the orchestra bopped. The glowing lights flowed from the floor onto the terrace outside, where all the riverwalk was equally decorated. The warm lighting accompanied the guests as the sun was setting and as floral arrangements gushed along the walkway outside.

The dining hall was supposed to give the appearance of walking through a regal, secret garden. The dance and terrace along the Riverwalk, added the special touch of magic. It was as if the guests were all transported into hanging jars full of lights, hovering over that garden now.

That's how it felt.

Romantic. Warm. Glowing.

All of the guests obliged and exited their dining tables. Some went straight to the dance floor. Some went to that silent auction room. And others traveled to the bar or outside to enjoy the sunset along the river.

Peter made a joke, "So…is anyone going to make me feel bad for only donating 20 bucks?"

Clint laughed, "Ah kid, I think you got more money to donate than we did at your age. Don't worry about it. Just give what you can and have a blast tonight with your beautiful girlfriend."

MJ and Peter chuckled, and they were off, donating what they could afford. For them, it was the thought that counted. Laura and Clint were deciding on what they could write their check for and went outside. Bucky and Wanda did the same. But before they stood up, Bucky winked at Natasha, "Don't forget, Romanoff. You got all dressed up to actually have fun tonight."

Steve, somewhere in the last hour and a half, since dinner and the open auction played out, did in fact decide to just relent. Mentally at least.

He'd made it this far without pushing. So, he could last a couple more hours.

Steve meant what he said earlier. He really just wanted to have a good evening with her. So maybe he was being unfair.

Maybe they both overreacted from bad timing and a bad joke.

It was hard, but it didn't have to be this hard. Did it?

"Natasha…how about we try a change of scenery. This table didn't do anything for my posture."

He was being the bigger person right now. There seemed to be a pattern in that regard, and Natasha knew what Steve was trying to do. She felt the guilt inside her rise, realizing how crazy he made her too. But before she could dive into any real thoughts, Steve added with a sigh, "I mean it, Romanoff. Let's just have a good night. We shouldn't have tried to get into anything before…here of all places."

He was being sincere. And she just wanted to wade in the unknown and comfort for a little longer.

Fools and denial and quicksand.

It did the trick for now.

Steve stood up and pulled her chair out as she followed, "God, let's go get a drink."

---

And they did get a drink. Steve and Natasha tried to mute their lingering looks over the next hour. They couldn't help but laugh, seeing Mayor Coulson blatantly avoid them several times. But he couldn't avoid everyone. Steve nudged Natasha, catching Governor Hammer with Mayor Coulson. And they quirked their heads, seeing Eleanor Bishop speaking with Val De Fontaine, CEO of Midwest Pharmaceuticals.

Steve picked up on how quickly Natasha changed the subject or re-directed attention each time Coulson's name was brought up, and he chalked it up to just trying to have a good time.

They agreed on no shop talk. And they did their best, trying to act like the rest of the guests.

Gawking at the prices in the silent auction room, Steve and Natasha made their way through the gallery. A diamond necklace and earrings, rumored to be worn by the famous gangster, Bonnie Parker, was restored from the 1800's when it was originally made. It was donated by a historic jeweler in Chicago, and the bidding was already close to half a million dollars. It proved that Chicagoans loved their mobster memorabilia. And wealthy people loved to spend their money at events where they got to outshine other rich people.

Old guitar cases that used to be carrying cases for Tommy Guns. Smoking pipes and bootlegging bottles. Fedoras and a vintage cigarette case and lighter. A never opened bottle of moonshine from the 1920's. Framed wanted photos of famous mobsters. Framed clippings from historic newspapers articles about prohibition. Rare blends of the finest whiskey of today. Cufflinks from old pinstripe suits.

It went on and on.

Of course, there were many other items, non-mafia related. But the prohibition and bootlegging era were what Fisk dreamed of, as far as power and glory from his mafia persona. And it was also what made Chicago what it was then. And some of those threads still remained today. But above all, most of the guests just had a good time with nostalgia. It was entertaining, reminiscing through the salacious affairs of gangsters.

Mobsters who operated on want, not need. On what was owed to them. Never asking permission. Taking what they wanted. Living outside, below, and above the law. Doing whatever they pleased, whenever they felt like it.

It was madness, but a hell of a lot of fun to look at, historically.

There was a pocketknife of Frank Nitti's. A flask of John Dillinger's. A tie clip from Machine Gun Kelly, and a hat from Baby Face Nelson. The last item in the room was a watch owned by Scarface himself, Al Capone. And its bidding wasn't just the highest for the silent auction, but for the night all together. The one-of-a-kind whiskey still, turned furniture, went for over $600,000. This watch was already at a cool million.

Natasha shook her head, "Rich people."

Steve nodded, "I'm sure Fisk dreams of his items being in a room like this someday."

Natasha scoffed, "Fisk and men like him, always forget while they're getting away with their crimes…things never work out for them. They didn't for any of these men, and they won't for him."

Steve blew out a breath, "The law finally catches up with them, or they're betrayed by one of their own. And they always have an early exit in life."

They were both right. Most of these individuals were famous for their crimes, but also for their deaths. Most of the mobsters from history either ended up full of bullet holes, or sent to an early grave after finally being caught and put behind bars.

They lived hard. They played hard. They died hard.

Natasha raised her glass, "But they sure ran good whiskey. So, cheers to the bastards that made this city, and who are raising a lot of money for charity."

Steve scoffed, but raised his glass too.

They left the side room and silent auction, trying their best to stay away from anything personal.

Natasha caught Fury and Pepper laughing and having a friendly conversation, only to be interrupted by Tony doing his best jitterbug. Despite her best efforts, Pepper couldn't ignore him and joined Tony on the dance floor as Glenn Miller, Billie Holiday, and Louis Armstrong's hits, all played from yesteryear. Flicks and kicks were attempted, as if the days of flapper girls were here again. And laughter rang out as Clint and Laura tried to do their best Charleston.

Drinks were refilled again, and an hour had passed with just enough distractions, that Steve and Natasha were able to at least act like they were having a good time. 60 minutes without a heated statement or a pointed stare. So, cheers to that too.

The journalists found themselves outside along the terrace, watching the sun fully succumb to the evening as Frank Sinatra's, The Way You Look Tonight, echoed from the orchestra. Whether Steve conjured up the song from his thoughts, or the song taunted him, was only known by the stars above. But damn it, Steve couldn't help it in moments like these as he watched her.

That polite veil they'd managed to hold for 60 minutes was gone in an instant.

The warm glow of her skin. Her figure highlighted, by each move and breath. The hues of color popping from her hair and dress. The tension came for them again as that bubble started to form. And the romance of the evening made a move once more.

Steve tried to control his thoughts, but everything was so damn obvious right now.

Did he push and try to dive in? Did he ignore and passively just get through the evening?

It was maddening and addictive all at once.

The evening all seemed like a movie from the Golden Age of Hollywood on the surface. But just like at the table, when they started to think about those layers beneath the veneer they'd been skating on, cracks started to show.

Steve cleared his throat and tried a little harder to keep this thing on track.

Welcoming more diversions, attention was drawn to a few who had a few too many cocktails. A riverboat full of tourists channeled the Chicago River below, and locals walked along the DuSable and Fahey Street bridges to the East and West. The crowds outside the party tried to make their presence known with yells and attempts to see some of the celebrities. And the crowd inside the ball grew a little louder too. Laughter and dancing. Boundaries went out the window as liquid courage and the aura of the evening made everyone feel like they were riding a high.

Most of the guests were at that happy buzz stage, from a night of drinking. Peter and MJ were caught canoodling a little too long outside, and whistles from other guests only matched the cheers from the riverboat below. The young couple could learn a thing or two from the old pros like Bucky and Wanda. The married couple knew how to smooch and snog without getting caught. They'd snuck down towards the water for a few minutes, finding a spot where shadows were plentiful, and onlookers were absent.

Everyone was having a great time and making it look easy.

But as Natasha's father told her long ago, she never made anything easy in life. As passionate and strong headed as she was, it made the good moments better, and the bad moments a little worse.

Steve was at a fork in the road, and went to refill their drinks. Natasha took the moment for herself too. It was the first moment she'd had alone, since sitting in Coulson's office suite. She wasn't rushed with getting ready, or high from the romance, or crashing from how she'd already screwed things up.

Natasha leaned against the terrace, and took in the city that she loved. This city, that was chaotic and violent at times. And at others, was as turbulent and unpredictable as the weather. But there was so much more to Chicago, than the cold steel of the skyscrapers and the statistics of the crime that filled the news, daily.

This city she adored was full of passion and life. Culture and history. Romance and stories from all walks of life.

The river was an artery to Chicago, cutting through and giving blood to its body of citizens and high rises. Transporting life along its surface on boats. Providing character in the heart of downtown, and bringing all of Chicago together on a Friday night. From the shores of Lake Michigan, under each bridge and along each inch of the Riverwalk. It connected everything in the city. These waters were calm, even though in other parts of nature, the same element of life could prove to be as violent as any mobster that ever lived within these walls of Chicago.

That's the funny thing about nature and life.

Two nights ago, Natasha opened up to Steve, in such a deeper way. Last night only continued their trajectory. But tonight, she felt like she'd been turned upside down in an hourglass because that quicksand all around, felt chaotic.

It felt like sandpaper instead.

Natasha tried to talk some sense into herself and back away from the more turbulent side of her nature. They shouldn't have to act polite to each other. They shouldn't have to avoid this black hole of unknown they were dancing around.

Most importantly, Natasha knew deep down, this didn't have to be so goddamn hard.

But that security, if expectations and wants weren't spoken aloud, was really hard to let go of too. This friendzone, as aggravating and undefined as it was, was comforting. It was warm and relaxing.

And above all, it was safe.

Maybe her corset was too tight on the top of her gown. Maybe she'd truly forgotten how to do this with a man. To let someone in, that she really thought there was something with. Maybe…Bucky was most right out of everyone she'd talked with.

Natasha was scared to death, of what the future held if it did work out with Steve.

Life wasn't linear in the real world, and neither was growth. And Natasha had been as set in her ways as a 36-year-old, as much as the Chicago River. Trying to change courses felt like trying to change the flow of those waters at times. What she was figuring out was that she didn't have to change course. She just had to build another bridge to let someone in.

Choppy waters or not, when someone is found to navigate the waters of life with, it's worth making space.

And it's worth building a bridge.

Natasha waved at another tourist boat going by as a guy in a baseball cap whistled at her. She chuckled and turned around, to see Peggy and her husband Dan, saying goodbye to Steve. Peggy looked over and gave a warm smile with a wave. Natasha felt like she'd been caught as a voyeur, but raised her hand awkwardly and waved back.

Matt and Jennifer found her on the terrace to say goodnight and to wish her well too. Steve didn't have to wave or stare from afar this time, because he was back and handed Natasha her vodka cranberry. An awkward introduction followed as Matt tried to act smooth, "I'm Matt. Natasha and I…"

Jennifer chuckled as Natasha took a breath, "Steve, this is Matt Murdock. He and I probably had the most peaceful of engagement break-ups in the history of the city. And this is his lovely wife, Jennifer."

Steve let out a nervous laugh as Natasha went on, "And Matt, this is Steve Rogers."

Steve shook Matt's hand and smiled at Jennifer, "You work for the D.A. and public defender's office, right? From what I've read, you're both killers in a courtroom." Relaxation settled in as Matt smiled and shook his hand back, "Quite the killer of a journalist yourself, Steve."

Jennifer offered to go get the car from the valet and said goodnight as Matt added, "I mean that, Rogers. Takes quite the journalist to battle it out with this one in the papers. Your stories have been great over the last month."

Natasha raised her brow as Matt chuckled, "Hey Romanoff, I don't have to be solely on your team anymore. We're just friends now." Natasha winced and Steve tightened his grip on his glass of whiskey, hearing those words.

Just friends.

It summed up such a complicated chain of thoughts perfectly. Most situations and feelings that are over-thought and beaten to death, really are quite simple, after all.

'Just friends,' was a perfect goal for someone like Natasha and Matt. Steve and Peggy couldn't say they had as nice of a rapport, but still. Being just friends was a great goal. It was not a great place to be however, if you were looking at each other the way Natasha and Steve were.

Matt smirked, seeing all the unspoken things between the two of them that he had no business or desire to get into. So, he just parted by saying goodnight and leaving Natasha with a great sendoff, "Besides, Tasha. It's good for you to be kept in check…and to have someone pushing you. You need it."

Natasha rolled her eyes and smiled as Matt added, "In more ways than one. But I must be off now."

He kissed Natasha on the cheek and shook Steve's hand again before ending with, "You two stay safe, but send me some bad guys to prosecute. And Rogers? Keep her on her toes. Looking forward to your next articles."

Natasha was four drinks into this romantic evening and the buzz inside of her was even stronger. Leaning against the concrete terrace, she looked up at Steve, "Everyone around me says you keeping me on my toes is the best thing for me."

Steve had done a lot of reflection in the 10 minutes he was gone. And he'd had enough of this tap dancing. Leaning on his elbow, he found her eyes, "Well, I don't really care what anyone else thinks or says, Natasha. I do care what you're thinking though."

There it was. An unavoidable step on the evolutionary road.

Enough time alone and space from the distractions all around, and they knew they'd fall into that black hole eventually.

Natasha looked over at him. The night had fully taken over. The warm lighting above made everything burn with romance. Steve searched her eyes, seeing if he could find something to hold onto, if he took another step. Natasha took a breath, "Look Steve, it's my own fault. Maybe we should have talked more clearly about what this was tonight. I'm sorry for that."

Steve sighed, recognizing her hesitancy as small as it was, but took another step towards her. The lapels on his jacket brushed her shoulder and Natasha's appearance of calm washed away. She looked at his lips and he glanced down at the curved valley of her breasts heaving beneath that green bodice.

He found her eyes again and swallowed another drink. They were close enough that he could smell the cranberry from her mouth, and she could almost taste the whiskey from his.

"Natasha, I don't want you to be sorry."

His words came out soft, but full of purpose.

"Then what do you want, Steve?"

Her words weren't meant to be spoken aloud and sounded of fear and hope equally. Lost in the trance of senses. Lost in the romance of the evening. It didn't matter if she'd meant to. Natasha had put the question out there.

And internally, Steve's conscience was yelling.

I want to be anything but just friends.

I want to kiss you.

I want you.

I want you…to want it too.

The pull was undeniable between them.

The problem with this undefined chemistry is that if they didn't clear it up…If they didn't figure out what exactly was in this concoction of emotions and desires between them, then it could blow up rather quickly.

Quicksand could fully pull them down from the surface and it'd be lost.

Then what do you want, Steve?

Her words hung in the air like the fairy lights above. What Steve would have responded with, he didn't actually know. But Bucky and Wanda found them after emerging from the shadows near the river. They may have snuck off successfully, but Natasha knew instantly what they'd been up to. Her flushed cheeks. Bucky's ruffled hair and loosened tie.

Natasha couldn't help but smirk, "Forget to tell Barnes how to behave?"

Bucky wiggled his eyebrows and Wanda shrugged her shoulders, changing the subject quickly, "So, I guess MJ's favorite Grammy singer was touching that quarterback's shoulder and cheek a little bit ago on the dance floor."

The awkward tension they'd interrupted was picked up on from Bucky and Wanda as she added, "They were touching in a way that friends just don't touch. I think there's a lot of drama that's going to go…in the words of my husband, 'kablewy.'"

Bucky chuckled and kissed Wanda's cheek. And Natasha blinked, hearing the reference to that word, 'friends,' again. Bucky and Wanda looked at each other and rolled their eyes. They were done tap dancing too.

This was just silly. A ball, and a bunch of wealthy and famous people to gawk at. The best food and drink to consume. And everyone dressed to the nines, looking as fine as Wanda in her red dress. Well, almost as fine, according to Bucky. No one looked like her to him. But that was beside the point.

They'd given Natasha the entire evening. But enough liquor was had, and enough hormones were flaring after their riverside rendezvous, that Bucky and Wanda were done watching them tread water.

And they had no intention of being as hesitant as Steve and Natasha.

---

The couple tossed a rope and decided to insert themselves into the equation, before anything could be made worse by the two fools in front of them. Bucky and Wanda were having a night to remember, and had every intention for the two journalists to join them.

Wanda shrugged her shoulders, whispering to Bucky, "Follow my lead, James."

Bucky smirked as Wanda grabbed Steve's hand, "Come on, Steve. Let's show my husband where the dance floor is." The truth was, Bucky and Wanda had already been on and off the dance floor three times, working up a sweat to all the brass and big band music playing. But that was their own little fib to help the truth be set free.

Steve looked like he was being pulled through a windstorm as he glanced back at Natasha. And Natasha picked up on what was going on and looked over at her friend. She huffed out a breath, "You and Wanda need to get a life, Bucky."

Bucky grinned, "Oh, we've been living it up fully. Trust me. Now it's time for you to get one too. Let's go have a little fun, Romanoff."

Bucky pulled her a little too forcefully as she dragged behind him. But a minute later, her heels found the dance floor as her dress flowed through the crowd.

Wanda's dress was in fact a beacon, turns out, because Bucky located her and pulled Natasha with him. As if he'd direct them anywhere else. Benny Goodman's, 'Sing, Sing, Sing,' was playing for the guests as trumpets and saxophones blared.

Wanda simply wouldn't let Steve stand still, and he couldn't help but start moving his feet in sync with the tempo of the drumbeats to the classic tune. Steve was laughing two minutes later, and Natasha couldn't help but give in to Bucky's charm as he twirled her again and again to the fast rhythm of the Gatsby era classic.

The version of the song had no words, but those instruments were sure singing at the top of their brass lungs. The tune was known by anyone who'd ever seen a movie covering the days of flappers and big bands. And everyone on the dance floor was attempting their best Lindy Hop.

Swivels and shimmies. Twists and shouts. Jumps and jives. Jazz hands and swinging hips. Twirls and turns. A couple in the middle were even doing the classic tosses and lifts with some basket-whips. Everyone else wasn't as seasoned or coordinated. But it didn't matter. It was all in good fun, and a lot of it was being had.

The husband and wife laughed at each other as the crooner classic finally came to an end and sweat was wiped from everyone's brow. This time, Bucky mouthed to Wanda, 'Follow my lead.'

If Hollywood's Golden Age came to mind before, then this was surely an 80's rom com, with the classic trope being performed by Wanda and Bucky. They'd gotten Steve and Natasha to the dance floor. All under the guise of dancing separately. And as soon as that tempo shifted from swinging to slow, their real move was revealed.

The old, 'Get 'em out on the dance floor and let the moves do the talking.'

The lead singer in the orchestra took the mic, "I think some of you could even make it as a flapper girl in an old speakeasy. That was some mighty fine swinging. Let's slow things down a bit and let everyone catch their breaths."

The trumpets slowed and the saxophones softened. Piano and guitars took the lead as the orchestra shifted into Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons, 'Can't Take My Eyes Off You.'

And from the first note played, the conniving married couple made a switch. Wanda walked Steve over in her arm and interrupted, "James, my dear. How about you twirl me around a few times?" Natasha felt as gullible as someone looking for a deal on beachfront property.

Right on cue, Bucky grinned, "Sorry Natasha, I think this is my chance to dance with my gorgeous wife."

Natasha shook her head at Bucky as he all but pushed her right into Steve.

And Steve, as reluctant as they'd been, couldn't help it. Her chest nudged into his as she nervously laughed. Natasha looked up, finding his gaze, and the floor felt like it might fall away if they didn't hold onto each other and move.

Steve's arm circled her waist as his other hand found hers at her side.

Enough energy burned while swinging, to wash away the last couple of hours. To focus on what was only in front of each other, not outside the dance floor. It wasn't talking, like was needed. But it wasn't making things go 'kablewy,' either.

Drawing their arms up, Steve held her tight. And as unexpected as Natasha's question was on the terrace before, so was his answer that he just found, "I want to dance with you, Nat. How's that sound?"

It wasn't as daring as telling her how crazy she made him, but it wasn't cowering away either. And Natasha felt cold and hot all at once. Hair on her neck stood up as she fell into his eyes. And goosebumps arose as his thumb brushed along her backside, just above her bodice.

"I want to dance with you too, Steve."

The lyrics poured onto the floor where they began to dance together.

You're just too good to be true
Can't take my eyes off of you
You'd be like Heaven to touch
I wanna hold you so much
At long last, love has arrived
And I thank God I'm alive
You're just too good to be true
Can't take my eyes off of you

The last few hours were a complicated and overly dramatic mess. But they didn't let this moment get lost. Instead, they sank into every sound of the song.

Pardon the way that I stare
There's nothin' else to compare
The sight of you leaves me weak
There are no words left to speak
But if you feel like I feel
Please let me know that it's real
You're just too good to be true
Can't take my eyes off of you

Natasha's insides were soup. Hands squeezing. Swaying and heavy breathing. Looks as long as the river outside. She wondered if Steve could feel how her heart pounded, and he wondered the same. They didn't focus on words or undefined relationships. They just listened to the velvet verses of the song as Natasha rested her head against his shoulder.

Lips brushing next to her ear, a heated breath came out. Nerves were firing, from the base of her neck to the ends of each of his fingers and toes. It wasn't just them wondering about each other. Bucky and Wanda looked over as she smiled at her husband, "They might start a fire if one of those sparks around them ignites."

Steve seemed to cover Natasha. With each breath and trace of his thumb. She seemed to bind to him, with every heave of her chest and graze on his back.

His cologne prodded. Her perfume invaded.

They moved to the words in each other's arms. Natasha looked up again, and their eyes met as everything fell away but this moment. There they swayed, with the moonlight outside and all the fantasy the city had to offer for an evening. If her insides were soup, then Steve's were lava. Overheated and not knowing where this could go.

Watching her close, a dance within a dance began.

It was a dance they started before. In the elevator two days ago. In passing seconds on their run. In their dreams and longing thoughts on their own. As their feet moved and fingers pressed, the familiar dance was found between them. Their thoughts and looks. Their lips and breathing.

Back and forth, their stares followed each flutter and every breath. Lips red. Eyes, blue and green. Back and forth, again and again. The journey was made over and over as the music played on. And each time their eyes met, the charge in the air approached its crest.

A spark must have ignited because Bucky smiled and kissed Wanda's cheek, "Wow…I think we've done all we can, Darlin. The rest is up to them."

Right now, the rest was noticeable by anyone watching them.

Natasha tickled by his beard. Steve tingled by her touch.

You're just too good to be true
Can't take my eyes off you

Two hearts thudding in rhythm with the melody as they held each other close and looked deep within. If only for a minute. If only for a moment. All the complications fell away.

It wasn't a solution, and it didn't mean conversations and decisions didn't have to be made. That was all out there, and this wouldn't last forever. But right now, it was the answer they needed as the lyrics talked for them.

A tango of wills occurred before, but now they were lost in this waltz.

From the moment the final, 'Can't take my eyes off you,' fell over the crowd, Natasha felt a shift. She didn't know if she could verbalize what she was feeling. She didn't know if she could define in her heart what this was or think about how it would work. But she didn't let herself think about the ifs and buts of tomorrow, either. Instead, she just reached down to slide her hand in Steve's.

---

Interlacing their fingers, Natasha took a step and led them off the dance floor toward the Riverwalk again.

Steve wasn't interested in talking or defining right now either. He was still scared of her pushing away again, but he didn't let himself think about any of that now. Their nerves and sparks were leading the way. And the look in her eyes told him everything he needed.

Natasha was in the same space right now and wasn't going anywhere without him for the moment.

At last.

Steve took the lead, pulling them through all the guests now crowding the terrace. Pepper and Tony and Sam and Maria were taking shots. Bucky and Wanda found MJ and Peter who were taking photos. The entire crowd was done auctioning and writing checks for the evening, and was fully focused on the party in front of them.

A DJ was set up outside to keep the dance going after the orchestra finished. Drinks were flowing. Shoes were coming off of the women and jackets off the men. Relaxation and a buzz filled the air as the terrace and Riverwalk became the place to be.

And Steve, not knowing exactly where they were heading, guided Natasha through the crowd. Until the crowd thinned, and until finally, no one was around. A few more steps, and a twist and a turn around a corner. He'd found an enclave that hid them away in the shadows and moonlight. The quiet humming of the music was behind them with the noise of the crowd. Tour boats chimed, blaring from the water below. And the public and tourists filled the bridges in Chicago, a block and two blocks away.

The city was humming this evening in the best way, with a bright moon and shining stars overhead. The fairy lights twinkled behind them and all of downtown seemed to sparkle too, but it didn't matter. Steve tugged at Natasha's hand, squeezing his fingers with hers, until they were hidden away from it all.

All the people and distractions. All the noise and lights. Everything but each other.

Shadow covered, the nook was hidden by some lush greenery. Tucked away from any onlookers, Steve and Natasha were in the dark, but somehow saw each other with the clarity of sunshine.

Natasha felt positively on fire as he looked down at her. Steve felt like he'd been thrown into a bath with a toaster as she exhaled.

He didn't want to think, and she didn't want to speak. Everything back there and outside this moment was complicated. It's where decisions were made, and conversations were had.

Right here, right now, though…was where their six-week journey imploded.

To hell with it.

Natasha gasped as Steve found her waist again, as his back met the wall. A rasped sound came out as her fingers skimmed around his neck. No reluctancy was found as he pulled her close, and she swallowed away any remaining thoughts.

The dance was over in more ways than one. Natasha's lips parted and Steve found hers with his. Hesitant but needed. Tentative but desired. The kiss was as urgent as it was slow. Her nails drug at his hairline. His beard teased at her chin. His breath huffed and hers panted. And everything became heated amidst the chilled air around them.

Pushing against her. Heaving beneath him. The pressure built as everything fell away. No sounds were heard, or lights were seen, but everything was felt in between. Every move and breath. Every sound and smell. The scent of her lotion. The hint of his aftershave. The feel of his hair as her fingers slid up. And the touch of her skin as his hands trailed down.

Lips beginning to search. Hips starting to press.

Breaths started to shake, and their hands that were joined, came apart to find more.

Anything and everything they could.

More friction. More contact. More of each other. It didn't really matter as long as it was more.

It was thrilling.

A heavy groan escaped as he palmed at her back. A needy sigh poured out as her hips nudged against his.

From her lips to his, pants and sighs only grew. Mouths pressed and tongues teased at the seams. More clothing was found, tracing up her waist to cup her cheek. More muscles were felt, sliding into his jacket and along his shirt.

His torso was warm. Hers was shaking.

Scratching at his back, Steve pulled away to look at her again. His eyes were dark, and her pupils were blown wide.

Uneven breaths were felt against each other's cheek and chin. And nose and brow. Drawing her lip between her teeth, Natasha let out the softest of moans. A groan was the answer, as Steve returned for more. Pulling her with a firmer hand now. Pushing into her with a deeper urge.

Any hesitancy that was there at the start, was nowhere to be found as they kissed again.

This time harder. This time deeper. Full of want and yearning, leaving tentative thoughts and feelings at their feet.

Mouths seeking. Fingers clutching. Temperatures rising as her tongue found his and he swallowed her sigh. The temperature was dropping outside, but their enclave only grew hotter. Sticky and steamy, they were lost in the haze of each other.

A hunger grew inside as saliva mixed and pressure built. As his chest swelled and her hips taunted.

An itch had been scratched. A thread had been pulled. A well of want had been tapped into.

Any and every metaphor applied. It was delicious and insatiable all at once. Exquisite and aggravating. Burning and not nearly hot enough.

It felt incredible, and with each passing second, the desire only increased.

Her hand tugging at the back of his hair. His beard marking her neck and chin. Hands digging into her hip, Steve pulled her close. Fingers probing at his back, Natasha pushed into him closer. Shoving and pressing. Panting and heaving.

Anything to feel a little more friction. To find a little release. A rasped breath as she nipped at his lower lip. A grated husk as he spun them around.

The cool surface found her back as he pushed his hand into hers against the wall.

Natasha gasped, curving her neck as Steve sucked at her skin. As her breasts rose and fell under the moonlight, within the corset of emerald green. It felt hotter and tighter with each passing breath.

It was too much and not nearly enough as she licked at his beard, pulling harder at his hair this time. As their tongues tangled and thoughts blurred.

Their mouths parted again, and so did her dress.

Her leg was like a beacon in the shadows. The soft, supple flesh of her thigh. The calloused tips of his fingers. His hips twitched, and hers rocked in return. Shadows covered, as her knee slid up and his hand fell down. And that light of her skin was now in his palm.

Pulling. Lifting. His fingers spread out, gripping at her thigh. Drawing closer and pressing harder. Near enough to sense how warm Natasha was inside and how tight Steve's pants grew. Leaving marks on her thigh, he swallowed her moan. Her hand pushed along the wall. A little leverage was found as he thrust into her. A little pressure was felt as she bucked against him. Feeling what they both wanted and needed, growing harder and warmer.

Something akin to a deep guttural response emerged from them both.

Steve drew away from her neck and she found his hungered stare once more. The moon and stars and ball were all out there. Away at a distance. Away from this fog they created. And right here, everything else and the questions and talks that needed to happen, didn't matter. Because right now, the passion overtook them for the last 20 minutes.

And even still, the thirst only grew.

Natasha felt the hint of his desire prodding between them. She could feel it between her legs too. Steve could see how flushed her skin was. And as the seconds ticked on, who was actually turned on more, was either's guess.

This had been long overdue, truly for a month and a half. But it had been just beneath the surface, aching and prodding. Teasing and taunting. Avoiding any release for the last few weeks. Every day since Navy Pier, those thoughts were kept at bay. Each desired wish was tampered down. But not right now.

And this undefined and unspoken thing was far from quiet, on a Friday night in Chicago.

And now their responses showed. His growing need. Her warmth inside. It all mixed between, with all of the darkened daydreams that came before.

Natasha searched his gaze, and he watched her lips tremble.

And only one thought was on their minds.

More. Again. Keep going.

Their lips crashed into each other yet again.

"Natasha."

Mouths colliding. Tongues teasing. Teeth grating.

"Steve."

Hands wandering. His sliding down, dancing right above her derriere. Hers prodding into his side, sliding up his abs and feeling his shaking breath.

Deep and provocative. Sensual and titillating.

Steve dug harder into her thigh as a whine came out.

Her sound was swallowed, and his grunt devoured.

Pants and moans. Whimpers and groans. Nudges and brushes, as their hips provoked. That suffocating feel surrounded them, and they couldn't get enough.

It was exhilarating.

It was breathtaking.

It was on a path of being lewd and indecent.

But just as quickly as they'd found themselves in a darkened corner outside, making out like a couple of horny teenagers, it was over just as quick. They'd been groping like there was no tomorrow for close to 30 minutes, but a proverbial bucket of ice water was tossed their way.

"Steve."

"Natasha."

Only this time it was out of alarm, being pulled from their well of passion.

Steve and Natasha heard voices from outside the shadows of their enclave. It wasn't anyone from the public because it had been barricaded off for the ball. And it wasn't anyone that they'd passed along the Riverwalk outside, because they were all behind them on the terrace. And they'd been entirely alone. But it was someone from inside that had come out the Eastern doors of the ballroom, beyond where they stood.

Natasha's heel found the ground as her thigh left his hand. And their desire found a little footing too. Steve took a step back to let that cool air do the trick. They gathered their thoughts, and a little more lucidity came back to them.

It was like they'd finally surfaced for air, after holding their breath underwater. That pounding pressure was almost unbearable just before, but the rush of coming to the surface calmed their hormones quickly. Steve blew out a few breaths and Natasha patted her cheeks, straightening out her dress.

Not a word was said between them. But as the voices were heard again, Natasha found her curiosity emerge as she inched closer to the Eastern doors.

Steve fell in line as they both tried regaining their breath. They were still tucked along the wall, hidden in the shadows as they stood behind a couple of designer trees and bushes now. They were as close as possible without being noticed, and were 15 feet away.

It wasn't someone that exited the East doors. But a few someone's.

Three people were in a heated discussion.

Three people that Natasha and Steve recognized immediately.

Val De Fontaine, Governor Hammer, and Eleanor Bishop.

"Listen Val, I'm the one taking all the risk here. I'm the one with public exposure running against Coulson."

The petite woman laughed a little sarcastically, "Oh that's cute. You think you're the one with the most to risk. Eleanor, I don't think you realize how insignificant of a role you actually play here. If you want to step away, we'll find someone else to run against Coulson."

Eleanor was angered, "You think I'm not on board? Look at what I've brought to the table."

Val scoffed, "A lot of risk for us is what you brought. And it wasn't you directly,Bishop. You hired Fisk, but look at his sloppy work. His thugs were reckless and now there's more articles questioning certain deaths, and Coulson isn't folding. And instead of staying focused on your battle, Fisk is in a verbal war with journalists."

Eleanor's voice rose a little, "I would just like a little more appreciation because I'm the one who actually has to dodge all of the questions."

Val's voice didn't become louder, but it was clear her tone shifted into a threatening one, "Appreciation? Eleanor, you've been rewarded handsomely. If you want to stop receiving the…donations to your campaign, then just say the word. Step away."

A heated second passed as Val continued, "Oh, that's right, like us, you enjoy money. And like us, you're not afraid to bend a few rules to keep the status quo. So quit acting like a victim, and get that dog of yours under control."

Before Eleanor could respond, the Governor brought them both into his side, "Ladies, let's not fight on such a good night. We can all benefit from our lucrative relationship, so let's keep our heads cool and focus on the goal."

Eleanor shook her head, "Justin, I don't like how the papers have been questioning our John Doe's death, or what really happened with Hope Van Dyne."

The Governor spoke a little firmer now, "And I don't like how sloppy the people you've hired have been, Bishop. And Val…I don't like Stephen Strange's disagreements with Aldrich Killian that you've told me about. I would have expected you to have gained full control of the problems with Wildfire by now. I think we're well past the stage of doctors having morals, aren't we?"

Steve and Natasha leaned forward a little more. All of that energy and attention on each other minutes ago, was now hyper-focused on the trio 15 feet away. Steve was hovering over her, and wrapped his arm around her waist instinctively.

Val spoke quieter, but still in a stern manner, "Look. If we all keep clear heads, the election will be here before we know it. Now the important thing is, that the tests all run smoothly this weekend before our second quarter is up next week."

Governor Hammer added, "And if the tests don't run smoothly, like the last few times?"

Val waved him off, "I don't really care about the results at this point, Justin. Results can be…manipulated. I will keep Strange and Aldrich in line, regardless of any hiccups from Wildfire."

Eleanor couldn't help it. She was the one who was the most worked up as she spoke, "And was Hope Van Dyne a hiccup?"

Val and Hammer loomed over Eleanor now. There was no mistaking the menace in Val's voice, "Yes, Eleanor. She was a hiccup. And it was a hiccup that you and your thug Fisk, sloppily took care of. It was you and your thug Fisk, that didn't get all the evidence from that doctored tape from the train tracks a month and a half ago. And it was that rabid dog of yours, that has been running around, half-cocked…not being able to keep his shit together because of two goddamn journalists! I'd hate for there to be…anymore hiccups. It sure leaves the families in a lot of pain in the aftermath."

Eleanor didn't back down, "Hey, you're supposed to handle the stocks and money and pharmaceutical side. I handle Chicago and the local politicians after I'm elected. That's been my job, and it's being handled. Fisk is a thug, but he's my thug, and I'm happy that he's on my side. And he did clean up your mess, Val. He wouldn't have even had to take care of Hope…if you'd had a better handle on your doctors."

Only a second passed before Val stepped forward. For such a petite woman, she cast a large shadow, "How old is Kate now, by the way? 21? 22? She'll graduate from Northwestern next year, right? Must be nice to have your only child so close, Eleanor."

Dogs becoming unleashed was an appropriate term because Eleanor's anger spiked, as she grabbed Val's dress, "Don't you dare talk about my daughter."

And Val answered with a serious tone, "Then don't you dare question things now, Eleanor. I handle the money and funding. You handle the groundwork and distribution after you're elected. And Hammer handles the big wigs. The people we don't want to meet with in person. Got it?"

Eleanor looked like she could scream. And Steve and Natasha could sense the fear emanating from the woman, after the clear threat Val just vocalized towards her daughter. Like a light switch being flipped, Val turned her sarcasm back on, "Governor, you have got to give her some lessons in political grandstanding or something. You let this all roll off your back so easily."

Hammer let out a sardonic laugh that matched Val's as he answered, "Well, so do you. But practice makes perfect, Val. You and I are old pros at this game by now. Let's give Eleanor a moment to calm down. Besides…like we said, Eleanor is no victim. And as long as we all remember that, we'll all benefit in the long run."

The Governor turned towards Coulson's opponent, "Eleanor? You were involved with Fisk long before we came knocking a few years ago. Now you're much richer, and so is he. And now you're positioned to be the new Mayor of Chicago after the election."

All of the sarcasm and fake laughing dropped from the bubble of intrigue 15 feet away, as the veil fell from the Governor. Steve's grip on Natasha tightened as Hammer grabbed Eleanor's neck in a violent way. "So, let's all calm the fuck down, come to our fucking senses, and see this through, okay?"

Val put up a good front, but even her appearance shifted as a little worry appeared. She cleared her throat, "I'll call you on our secure line after our tests this weekend, Justin. We'll get everything set for the board. And Eleanor? Go have a drink. And just do as you're told. And for god's sake, get Fisk and his track suit groupies to follow orders. Wildfire and the election come first."

Eleanor hadn't necessarily calmed down, but it was apparent by her recoil from Hammer's grip, that she was going to do exactly as she was told.

The trio went back inside. And neither Steve nor Natasha thought about talking about their dry humping session from before. They were interrupted 15 minutes ago.

They'd agreed on no shop talk for the evening. But the shop found them. Now their minds were racing as Natasha slinked out from behind the foliage. She was headed towards the Eastern doors.

Steve was trying to keep them safe as he grabbed her arm, "We can't go in that way, Romanoff. It's way too conspicuous."

Natasha shook him off, "I don't want to go in this way. I want to see where they go now."

They peeked inside the glass doors and watched as Val began laughing with Maria Stark and a couple of other wealthy attendees. Hammer walked over to Coulson and his wife, Melinda and began laughing alongside them just as easily.

The two of them weren't kidding before. They were old pros and blended in naturally, chumming it up with people in attendance. Mayor Coulson had absolutely no idea, that Governor Hammer was actively trying to oust him this coming election. And Maria Stark obviously had zero idea of the threats that poured out of Val's mouth, only minutes ago.

Natasha peered close enough that if someone was watching closely, they might have caught the corner of her head, but she had to see where Eleanor went.

Steve's mouth was right behind her ear, breathing into her and holding her close as they looked around.

Natasha saw it. She couldn't be sure, but she saw Eleanor speaking with someone on the other side of the room now, as the hair on the back of her neck stood up.

"Son of a bitch," she whispered.

Before Steve could ask her anything, Natasha was in another gear. She'd turned around and quickly made her way back through foliage and enclave. Back into the noise and Riverwalk and crowd of people.

Bucky tried to wave, clearly seeing they had been up to something, but neither one of them saw him. Steve was right behind Natasha, trying to keep up.

They passed by that A-list celebrity boyfriend, who was extremely upset. In fact, moments ago, he made Eleanor Bishop seem like the happiest person here, with how he was yelling and flailing his arms. He was in a very public and loud argument with his singer of a girlfriend. Canoodling was on a lot of people's minds tonight, turns out. The A-lister boyfriend caught the Grammy winner making out with that Bears QB in attendance. Except she wasn't in a hidden nook and cranny when she was necking the athlete.

Turns out, the boyfriend wasn't a fan of what he'd seen. Imagine that.

Videos were being taken of the scuffle. He called her every name in the book and she poured her champagne on him, yelling he was more interested in his groupies and followers than giving her an orgasm.

A large crowd gathered around the famous feuding couple. And there were some dramatic Ooh's and Aah's in response, from her below the belt burn. Pepper and Tony tried to create a great distraction, pointing out how much money they'd raised. A shocking 30 million dollars.

But drinks were too many, and gives a fuck were too little about charity at this point. None of that resonated with the gawkers taking photos of the famous, feuding duo.

And none of any of that drama, resonated with the other canoodling couple driving through the crowd. Natasha almost fell back into the ballroom with her speed, and Steve grabbed her arm, "Let's not go in here and do something stupid, shall we?"

Natasha took a deep breath and played her part well, wrapping her arm around his jacket as he circled her waist. They blended in with the stuffier crowd inside now, isolated from the drama on the terrace. "Sorry, Rogers. I just…I thought I saw…"

Steve glanced around where the elites were schmoozing with each other inside. Most of the politicians and bankers and stockbrokers were here, clearly not knowing how to have as much fun as everyone outside. "What is it, Natasha? Val's over there. Hammer is by the stage…"

Natasha searched as Steve moved them near one of the open bars inside, "There, back by the dining area where we ate. Look. Son of a bitch…I fucking knew it."

"Knew what? What is it, Nat?"

The bartender handed them two drinks as Steve and her saw Eleanor Bishop talking with a man who didn't look like he was invited.

He had a tux on, but his jacket and tie were off. And he looked like he'd never worn dress shoes before from how awkwardly he moved. His hair was in a greased back ponytail and then Natasha saw it.

"Steve look…his arm."

Steve pulled her into his side, pretending to kiss her hair as he saw it too.

It was the tattoo from the night Natasha found Hope. A sun, with barbed wire around it.

Steve's protectively held her tighter, thinking of what she went through that night, "Is that him, Natasha?"

Natasha watched Eleanor and the man leave abruptly. They followed her out, making their way past the bar and dance floor. Away from the terrace and through the dining room. Past the cocktail lounge and onto the red carpet at the front entrance, "I don't know. It could be. Same build, but I never saw his face because he had a mask on. But I know that's the tattoo. I'm positive."

Things had gone from complicated to messy, to bordering on an NC-17 rating between them tonight. The same could be said about this story, that Steve and Natasha were chasing. Leads and threads had been thrown at them from every which way as they both found their way to the front entrance.

Katy and Shaun were cracking up from a story about a drunken night of theirs, but Steve and Natasha used them now. They stood behind the valets, blocking Eleanor and the tattooed man from seeing them.

The valets were confused but went with it because they honestly couldn't care less. Then Natasha and Steve saw it. A giant limo pulled up as Eleanor and the man got in. They only caught a glimpse of the large set man inside. But he caught a glimpse of them. The tattooed man and Bishop disappeared within the limo, but Fisk saw Natasha and Steve staring right at him.

The grinch came to mind, because the smile that emerged on his face was vile and wicked, and he was enjoying his position all too well. It wasn't that Fisk said anything at all, because he didn't. He simply raised his cane, pointed at both of them in a threatening way, and then drove off.

That's how he lived his life. He showed up, and took and did what he wanted. And then just drove off. And he hadn't even been involved directly with anything tonight, yet there he was, right in the middle of it. Slipping away, and mocking Natasha and Steve as the limo disappeared from the Riverfront.

The valets were continuing their drunken story, but Steve and Natasha weren't listening. Steve handed them a 20 and thanked them for the assist. They were still confused, but honestly shrugged it off and smiled at their tip.

And the two people who couldn't keep their hands off each other 30 minutes ago, were a little dumbfounded with the barrage of information running through their brains.

The thrill tantalized them before. But now the exhilaration overwhelmed in a different way. The chase of the story was back on. Steve couldn't help it as he grabbed her shoulders and gave her a sweet kiss on the forehead, "That asshole is the least of our worries right now, Nat."

Natasha's blood was hot and bothered with Fisk's cameo in their evening. It was almost a natural response at this point. But that wasn't at the forefront of her brain right now. Everything else that had transpired was.

Hammer and Bishop and Val.

Their kiss. His hands. That heat between them.

The threatening words and Wildfire. Doctors and Hope's name.

Hormones and feelings. Facts and threads of a story. Heated stares and now the memory of a 30-minute locking of lips, against the wall of this Riverfront Ball.

It all drove through their brain, leaving a trail in its wake. They might as well have been put through a blender with how they looked.

Natasha shook her head and gave a nervous smile and they both stared at each other before saying at the same time,

"I need to find Fury."

"I need to find Pepper."

A shaky laugh came out as Steve said, "Meet me back here in 10 minutes, and we'll make a plan."

Natasha squeezed his hand, "Yeah…Midwest Pharmaceuticals…whatever test they're running, we need to find out tomorrow. Okay, 10 minutes."

What they had no way of knowing in this exact moment, was that they truly were about to be put through a blender, and this night was about to turned on its head.

---

10 minutes was the plan.

Natasha was in a flurry and Steve was too as they got their notepads out. His from his jacket and hers from her clutch. They'd been so flustered thinking about their 30-minute tango of touches, and everything that happened after, that they smacked right into each other.

"Ouch."

"Shoot. God, sorry, Steve."

They were fine, at least right now. But their notepads had fallen to the ground. They waved the apologies off, assuring they were okay, and quickly retrieved the fallen pads of paper. Natasha went to find Fury and Steve walked off to find Pepper.

What they didn't realize was they grabbed each other's notepads.

Steve texted Pepper to meet her in the lounge near the exit for a minute, and opened his pad, only to see Natasha's handwriting. He realized it right away and was about to close it, but stopped. Natasha's conversation with Coulson and Jessica Jones from earlier today was there on the page. Underlined and spelled out.

Natasha had a lead, with Coulson and the Governor being at odds, tying Midwest into the mix officially, from years ago. She also had a lead from Jones, about explosives with nitrates, tying Fisk to The Red Line crash.

It was all there for Steve to read.

The theory of Fisk wanting to shadow run the L-Train line, south to north, working on his own empire's expansion. Running whatever Wildfire was for Midwest.

And instantly, this pitted feeling emerged in his stomach. Steve wanted to give Natasha the benefit of the doubt. He really did, and maybe if everything wasn't exploding inside his head right now, he would have been able to.

But everything was firing on all cylinders at the moment.

Steve thought about how he'd shared everything about his day with Natasha. About the Skydeck and his access to CCTV because of Jimmy. He couldn't wait to share it with her, because he wanted to work on this story with her. That was the understanding. That was the trust they'd worked towards. Or so he thought.

Work together. Write alone. Deal with all their feelings…eventually.

That plan wasn't working either, but that was beside the point.

Steve thought about how Natasha had deflected away from the conversation on the car ride over. And that pitted feeling grew a little more.

Now, this undefined thing between them, just added a deluge of desire. And it only messed everything up further because they hadn't talked about any of it. And now everything with this overarching story was thrown into the fire too.

But Steve wasn't about to go off half-cocked like an A-list celebrity. It was all a misunderstanding. It had to be, right? So, he figured he'd give Natasha the chance to be honest with him. They were sharing their intel with each other, so he'd give her a chance to share what she had.

That was the trust he thought they'd formed.

But Steve's own Jiminy Cricket had a bad feeling as he found Pepper.

10 minutes was the plan as the rush of events continued. Pepper gave the go ahead as did Fury. Natasha and Steve would be taking a road trip to Midwest's research facility this weekend, up North of Milwaukee. They'd try and dig up any information and see what they could find.

Both journalists raced through everything that just happened with their bosses.

*Eleanor Bishop clearly had a long-standing relationship with Wilson Fisk and had apparently hired out Hope Van Dyne's murder. And possibly others like John Doe.

*Eleanor Bishop was hand-picked by Governor Hammer and Val De Fontaine to oust Coulson in the upcoming election.

*Bishop's doubts and questions were met with anger and blatant threats towards her and her daughter, Kate.

*The Governor had been in business with Val for much longer, and their dealings were lucrative.

*Wildfire was tied into this, and this Dr. Stephen Strange was growing wary, like others had. And these tests needed to conclude this weekend on whatever Wildfire was, to appease their second quarter financials.

*It was all about money.

**The Money - Val handled the upfront costs from Midwest's pockets. They were banking on Wildfire, bringing in a big return and saw Chicago as a huge marketplace for distribution.

**The Muscle - Eleanor was the ground level management, and handled the muscle. AKA Fisk. She would be the figure head after winning the election, to make agreements that the likes of Phil Coulson never did. All to help Midwest's expansion into Chicago.

**The Motivation - Hammer was the shadow man. Higher up in politics, his ties went much higher and into deeper pockets. The way he talked, made it seem like he knew men that would make Wilson Fisk look like a church mouse.

*John Doe / Bruce Banner, and they'd be willing to bet their life on it, Hank Pym, were all directly connected. Whether Fisk and Eleanor had anything to do with Pym…they didn't know. It was all connected though. And somehow, Hope had gotten involved and had become a hiccup.

And what Steve had just read in Natasha's notepad, was her entire conversation with Jones and Coulson from City Hall, earlier today.

Explosives with nitrates were discovered at The Red Line crash, mostly known to be used by construction companies. Exactly like Wilson Fisk's realty and construction business. And Fisk's expansion attempts were theorized between Romanoff and Jones. Fisk wanted to shadow run train lines for his own benefit, furthering his empire through more of Chicago.

Coulson's conversation had revealed that he turned down Governor Hammer's deal with Midwest, and vetoed building in Chicago. It might have prompted the initial contact to be made with Bishop. The details were all small individually. But added up, they weren't small, but mighty. They were sparks, each lighting fuses and leading to different explosions of possibilities.

None of these discoveries individually would be enough to bring a charge or arrest, but added up? Giant red arrows were pointing at the trio of schemers from the ball, and Midwest. The chain of events from Natasha's morning, were having a small but mighty, ripple effect, right now as well.

Natasha's father loved his daughter for all her successes and flaws. And knew she had a knack of making things harder than they needed to be.

Steve's mother adored her son for all his passion and setbacks. And knew he had a knack for letting his search for truth really make a mess of things at times.

Stubborn and full of fight, they both acted.

Driven and wickedly smart, they both lived for their work.

But along the road of emotional evolution, they were at different points.

And Steve, was just as capable of having setbacks as the redheaded firecracker, who had at best, been deflective for reasons unknown earlier. And at worst, had played Steve like a fool and blatantly lied.

Was it ridiculous? Sure, but when dealing with matters of the heart, everyone is a fool in the end. And the less people talked, and relied only on unspoken feelings and chemistry, the more likely a blow up could occur.

Their thing was supposed to be about trust and moving forward.

And Steve couldn't help it right now. He grew a little angry, questioning everything that happened tonight, while he waited on the red carpet after he was done with Pepper. As he waited for Natasha.

Was any of it real? Did any of what just happened, mean anything to her? Did anything from the last few weeks mean something to Natasha, or was this all about the story?

As absurd as those questions really were, Steve just couldn't help it.

Their chemistry had reached an imbalance tonight. An explosion of kisses and touches and moans occurred, just on the right side of that concoction. But still, nothing was talked about. Nothing was decided on. His wants and her thoughts. This friendzone and how he wanted more. This chance and if it would be taken, to see if it could become something.

When no answers are given and no questions are asked, insecurities creep, filling in the blanks on their own.

It was a simple formula, this chemistry of theirs. Any outsider and objective party could see Steve and Natasha wanted each other. They were crazy for each other. And honestly, they were kind of perfect for each other. But formulas can corrupt. Chemistry can cause explosions, if a balance can't be found.

A simple mistake between baking soda and powder in a cooking recipe can make all the difference in the world.

Iron courses through the human body, giving lifeforce to every living mammal on earth. But get too much or too little in the system, and sickness ensues.

Toxicity develops.

And the same element found in the compound for water, is also used to make a hydrogen bomb. Chemical imbalances occurred in nature, and simple chemistry could turn explosive, when dealing with the unknown.

In a way, Natasha and Steve were no different. If they were deserted on an island, forever, with no one but each other, maybe they'd find a result on their own, without ever forcing a conversation.

But here in the real world? Where stories had to be chased. And hormones had to be dealt with in the midst of racing after large men in limos, and Governor's wanting to oust Mayors of Chicago?

It only made everything murkier between the journalists.

Simple chemistry. Complicated individuals.

And these mistakes with Steve and Natasha, weren't so simple anymore. A trust and connection had deepened in a profound way over the last month. But the real questions weren't asked, and discussions were avoided. And now? 30 minutes of indulging in their lust was thrown into the mix, only muddling matters further.

Doubt crept in as Steve saw Natasha walking back towards the entrance. The story. The chemistry. The crazy feelings he had for her, were all bubbling under the surface. All mixing with this story looming large.

They were at an inflection point before, when they finally dove into their kiss.

But they were an inflection point right now as his doubts caused him to take a step backwards on his own evolutionary road.

Natasha looked giddy as she walked back quickly. Her dress was flowing with her leg flashing. That leg, he'd held before. It only caused Steve's doubts to spread. What just happened was sensational. But more so, it was more meaningful to him than anything he'd felt in a very long time.

Steve had known it since meeting her. But she'd held back, and where she stood, he didn't know. Those questions were silenced, and he didn't press her on the matters of the heart. He'd tried pushing her outside The Herald, after Hope's murder. And their first eruption occurred. That was before a lasso of barbed wire was strung around his own heart, regarding Natasha Romanoff. Steve was in deep enough over the last few weeks, that he didn't push like he had then.

But these questions on matters of the story, he would ask.

This time, he would test her.

Natasha was full of excitement, "Fury is chatting with Pepper. Sounds like she's as wired as Fury is. They said just be careful. We gotta figure out where we're gonna stay…and pack. We'll have to leave pretty early in the morning."

Natasha was off to the races, and Steve just let it out, "Hey, Romanoff. I think when we…well before I think our notepads got switched."

He was avoiding everything that'd happened against the wall and in the shadows of the city. And instead let a carrot dangle in front of her, to give her a chance.

To tell the truth, or feed into his doubts.

Natasha looked and instantly grabbed the pad in her clutch. "Oh wow. I can't believe that. Thanks, Rogers."

That feeling in his stomach now spread to Steve's chest.

Natasha was racing again, this time with a pen as she flipped open her pad and started writing immediately. Notes and questions. Circles and lines. A few exclamation points as Steve cleared his throat and went through his mental checklist out loud, of all they learned. He listed off every bullet point to Natasha, except the details she hadn't shared with him.

And he pushed that carrot a little more in her face, silently begging her to prove his doubts wrong.

"So that's everything, right Natasha? I want to start writing as soon as I get home tonight. Get a head start on a long weekend…that's everything we've learned?"

Natasha chuckled, "Yeah, Steve. Thanks for the rundown. I think we got it now. We'll save everything else…well, we will have plenty of time to talk on our drive to the research facility tomorrow…about…you know."

She gave a wink, referencing their kiss. But she'd leaped right past his test and left it in her wake.

Honestly, Natasha didn't know why. That little voice had prodded at her in the car ride over. And she convinced herself, she just wanted to have a good night. She'd convinced herself she just wanted to keep her conversations with Jones and Coulson to herself for a bit.

But there was a simpler truth to her complicated choices.

Life wasn't linear and neither was growth.

And old habits die hard. Two steps forward, one step back. Something like that. But she'd kept her conversation with Coulson and Jones quiet. 90 percent of the facts and circumstantial evidence was shared, so what did it matter if she didn't share this little tidbit with Steve?

Just like iron in blood, or baking soda and powder, a little mis measuring can make a chemical concoction wildly imbalanced.

And that's what just happened.

It was all, just on the right side of that edge as they moaned each other's names before.

And now, it had fallen to the other side.

Steve's jaw tightened as all of his frustrations came to the forefront of his brain.

Just friends. Denial. Lack of trust. Just friends. Avoiding any ounce of adult conversation about what they were and what they really wanted. Pretending like they were just friends, when they'd been so clearly on a path to something more meaningful. Discovering a connection, deeper than they'd felt before in their lives. Pretending like they didn't fall into each other's orbit and lives naturally over the last month and a half. But especially over the last few weeks, with each text and joke and run and lunch and drink. With each conversation. With a phone call that felt as natural as breathing last night. With a date that was never clarified tonight. And now, a breathless kiss. A steamy make out. Grips and groans and moans that will linger as he lies awake tonight, reeling.

But no, it wasn't talked about.

Talking about each other's lives and developing profound feelings internally. Discovering who they were and building a trust, yes. Or at least it was supposed to be a shared trust. They could talk in circles about lives and stories and who they were individually. But what all of that meant…for them, as something beyond a friendship? No. That was avoided as they swam through their ocean of denial.

They didn't talk about any of that. Natasha made that clear. And Steve had agreed to it at Navy Pier.

That was then, and this was now. And things had changed. Feelings were admitted by Steve, internally at least. And now here they were. In the middle of the mess, they'd stirred up over the course of six weeks.

Now here they were on a red carpet, with Natasha making clear on some level, that she wasn't trusting Steve with all the details she'd learned with the story. So, sue the man. Steve took a big step back on that evolutionary road and dug in. It was a page out of the old Natasha Romanoff book of living. It was a page out of the old Steve Rogers and the way he used to live.

The story was what mattered.

And just friends they would be.

Hypocritical? Sure. Pot calling the kettle black? Abso-fucking-lutely.

Steve forced a smile and pretended like his test of her trust never happened. He dug in, and acted like nothing at all had transpired between them. No lies or lack of details. No missteps in their trust built. And no acknowledgement of their tongues being down each other's throats an hour ago.

Steve cleared his throat, "Yeah, we'll meet outside The Star at 7 am tomorrow."

Natasha, oblivious at first, quickly added, "We should meet at The Herald at 7 am instead. I'll drive my jeep since you won't have that sweet Mustang tomorrow."

Steve nodded and agreed. And he didn't push anymore. He didn't reveal that he was aware of what she was hiding. And neither revealed what they were both feeling.

It was a goddamn mess and was surely to worsen.

The fireworks burst into the sky, above the river as Natasha saw how Steve quickly looked away. How he kept checking to see if Katy and Shaun were back with the Mustang yet. It was like he couldn't wait to leave, and he wasn't looking at her anymore. If she didn't know any better, she'd think he was annoyed or frustrated with her.

But it was late, and her brain was reeling. From the kiss and all the reveals of the night. Her buzz was officially gone, and her fingers were itching to write. They needed to pack and figure out travel incidentals. And Steve looked like he needed to leave even more than her.

Natasha shook it off and said goodnight to Fury over text as Pepper did the same, telling Steve to be safe tomorrow. Everyone else at the ball was tying one on, under the starbursts of colors in the sky.

Bucky thought Steve and Natasha had clearly taken a step forward, by their appearance and her red lips and his mussed-up hair when they emerged from the shadows earlier. But what he'd told Wanda earlier, was true too. The rest would truly be up to them.

No one could force Steve and Natasha down this road.

And Steve and Natasha would have to find a way forward together if it was going to happen at all.

But explosions were the name of the game tonight.

The sky filled with all the colors of the rainbow as fireworks painted the canvas above. Claps from locals on the bridges were met with applause. Eruptions of cheers from the guests were heard as Tony took over the microphone from the DJ outside, fully adding his mix of beats to the night. And all the bursts from entertainment reporters, flashing cameras and recording that juicy gossip they'd found at the ball.

The flailing arms and thrown drink were repeated by the famous singer, when the Bears quarterback tried to get involved. Which quickly turned into a drunken fist fight between the athlete and the celebrity boyfriend. Apparently, the boyfriend didn't like seeing his girlfriend's tongue down another man's throat. Imagine that.

Their tryst and kerfuffle would lead all the headlines tomorrow. It's what Peter and MJ were gaping and gasping about under the fireworks. Security pulled the tangle of celebrities apart as the singer slapped her boyfriend and acted overly dramatic for drama's sake. Spilled drinks. A slap to the boyfriend. Literal stomping of heels. A punch to the QB's face. And tears…so many tears. It all led to her public threat to breakup with her boyfriend who just embarrassed her, according to her drunken words.

He embarrassed her…

The gall. The hypocrisy, right?

Logic and common sense are hard to come by in any relationship at times. Add drinks and secrets and doubts. Add undefined and unspoken feelings to the mix. And anything can happen.

It was exploding between a celebrity triangle right now.

And it was exploding in the car ride home as Steve got the keys and tipped the valets.

Any prodding thought Natasha had, thinking Steve seemed a little frustrated on the red carpet a few minutes ago, was only confirmed now.

Steve was quiet as a coldness settled between them. And a different kind of tension was felt as he put the car into gear.

It was well past midnight, and their friends were getting way too drunk as the ball continued into the late hours of the evening. It was juxtaposed with the two of them, very sober and wired now, thinking of the story and tomorrow. But also thinking about what'd happened and shifted between them tonight. Natasha looked over at Steve a few times as he unbuttoned his collar and tossed his bowtie in the backseat.

He didn't once glance over at her.

"Good to finally get out of that, right Steve?"

It was a light question that Steve didn't register at first, but after a few seconds he realized what she'd said. He kept his eyes on the road and huffed out a breath, "Yeah…right."

Before she could say anything else, Steve turned on the radio.

A proverbial glass of ice water had just been thrown on her. If Natasha was obtuse to any of the signals from the last 10 minutes (she wasn't,) she'd surely have picked up on them now (which she clearly did.) Steve had just been short with her. He was clearly frustrated. And more frustrated than either of them had been at the beginning of their dinner.

Natasha frowned, trying to focus on writing down a few more thoughts and notes on her pad. And Steve did manage to glance over at her once without her noticing. Her breathtaking body. The kiss they'd shared. Her beautiful, frustrating face. And his aggravation only grew.

A few minutes passed and another song played, and Natasha couldn't help but let out her own frustrating sigh as she turned the radio off, "Steve…do you want to talk about the terrace?"

"No." (He did.)

Okay, she wasn't just worried right now. She was fucking annoyed too.

Her pen started tapping against the notepad as she adjusted in her seat, "Really? You don't want to talk about what happened?"

Steve blew out a slow breath, "Natasha, we've already discussed everything that happened. We have all of our facts out in the open from what Bishop, Hammer, and Val were talking about."

Natasha raised her brow. No one was this thickheaded to not pick up on the wall he'd put up.

Challenge accepted, because both of them were thickheaded enough, to turn not swim towards each other right now. Instead, they steeped in the stew they had created. They marinated in a concoction of complications and half-truths. Of stubborn reactions and unspoken feelings.

"Really. You don't want to talk about anything else besides the story…and the three stooges we caught in an argument from before?"

Whether Steve recognized at the late hour and crazy night, just how much he was digging in, it was hard to say. But he was and had no intention of budging, "Nothing else to really say, Natasha."

Hindsight was 20/20, right?

Steve and Natasha weren't anywhere near hindsight.

Natasha scoffed in disbelief. Steve had either done a 180 turn from a couple hours ago, forming an allergic reaction to her after their kiss. Or he was angry. And Steve acting like Natasha, if he was angry, wasn't typical.

But it had to be that, right?

Because Steve not being interested in her? It was laughable to anyone observing. But to her, that thought was…Well, she couldn't even go there. But whatever the reason, it unnerved her as her stomach tightened, and Steve made the turn off the main road.

There were only a few minutes until he would be at her place, and for every question Natasha had written down about the actual story, they didn't stack up to the one question blaring through her stomach and heart about the man to her left.

That doubt spread quickly as she wondered what he was thinking. And wondered why he was being standoffish to her. This had all gone to hell in a handbasket quickly.

If only two adults could talk about what was going on. If only…

But Steve dug in. Did Natasha learn how to step forward and act like the bigger person? Now that was laughable. Instead, she narrowed her eyes to meet him where he was.

Natasha flipped the radio back on and turned the volume even louder as Prince's When Doves Cry, came blasting through the speakers.

Steve looked over at her as she yelled over the music, "I just love this song!" He didn't know the answers to any of his questions. But Steve knew if he was mad enough to act this way, she had the ability to act just the same.

Oh, what a night it turned out to be. Full of twists and turns. Full of heated stares and impassioned words. Sealed with a kiss, leaving them both in a sinkhole, just out of reach from any real answers.

All because they wouldn't act like fucking grownups and talk.

A woman of 36 years, and a man, 41-year's old, acting like a couple of teenagers. Everyone's a fool, when dealing with matters of the heart.

The music thumped as Steve turned down the road approaching her apartment building. His grip tightened and Natasha dramatically put her pen and pad back in her clutch as the syncopated beats of Prince Rogers Nelson added to their chemical imbalance.

Steve stopped abruptly outside her apartment and exhaled a little too loud as the car lurched. The silence suffocated as the radio turned off. Natasha looked at her lap, refusing to admit the pool of feelings, waiting to overflow inside of her. And Steve fully let exhaustion and pent-up feelings go over the cliff.

His frustration was the victor this evening.

Clearing his throat in a not-so-subtle way, Steve made it obvious he wasn't budging. He wasn't tapping into anything under the surface, and wouldn't talk about the kiss or her dishonesty. And didn't really want to talk about work right now. But he wasn't going to be the bigger person either.

Natasha glanced over, thinking of only a couple hours ago. Pressed against the wall. Her thigh in his hands and his lips all over her. It made everything inside, twist even more. She cleared her throat too as blunt words followed, "So tomorrow. 7 am outside my office, right?"

Steve shook his head, battling internally what to say, "Yeah, 7 am."

He got out of the car and let a heavy breath out, walking around the Mustang to open the door.

It was as if the gentleman inside was making a last-ditch effort to smack some sense into both of them. The door opened and Natasha was yelling at herself as she got out. Another flash of her leg as she stood up.

He shut the door quickly, and she looked at the ground with a furrowed brow, "Well I guess this is goodnight, Rogers."

Steve swallowed, finding her eyes but looked away in a flash. He couldn't do this right now, "I guess it is, Romanoff."

Whether she was going to scream at herself or hit him, she didn't know. Instead, a muted, "Thanks…" fell out. And it hung in the crisp air between them, flat and cold.

It was awkward and not nearly good enough. And it was an abysmal way to cap off their steamy groping session from before.

The only thing that could match her passive response, was a passive aggressive one of his own.

"Don't mention it, Romanoff. That's what friends are for."

Steve walked back to the driver's side of the vehicle and waited for her to turn around and walk inside. And even though he made sure she got inside safely, it was clear that the gentleman fighting inside of him, was told to fuck off.

Steve drove away with the radio blaring even louder, trying to distract himself from what just happened.

Natasha got in her apartment and tossed her heels to the side as she rested against the back of the door, banging her head lightly.

One step forward, five giant steps backward. What a terrible ending to a breakthrough of an evening.

His words played out, and her lack of words did the same as Steve got back to his own apartment.

They both replayed what happened, over and over again.

A lot of thoughts. A lot of feelings. Absolutely no talking or defining. And one hell of a make-out and a blatant fib by Natasha.

Sprinkle in the crazy leads revealed, and it was fireworks inside them both, rivaling any explosions in the sky at the Riverfront Ball.

The only problem was, tomorrow would be here in just a few hours and whatever happened between the two of them, couldn't be avoided. They were going to have to figure this out. They were going to have to figure them out. They were going to have to decide, to fully trust and take a chance, or let this thing go. Because Steve wasn't going to settle for a woman that made him feel the way Natasha did, as just friends. And Natasha wasn't going to emotionally evolve, if they stayed in the trenches of stubborn immaturity.

It's what they both went to bed realizing, as tomorrow quickly approached.

It was a night to remember, but the clock struck 12, and they'd turned back into a pumpkin. And now in their own appartements, Steve and Natasha were left where they'd started. With facts and threads battling with the mystery and players of this story. And with doubts and fear in a deeper battle with their hearts and minds within.

---

In the absence of speech, worries plunder the mind.

When doubt hinders the truth, rumors seep and unwind.

---

End Note:

Phew – Who wouldn't love to attend a ball with all the drama of celebrities drinking and acting a fool, while swing dancing to Big Band era music. If you don't know the version of Benny Goodman's, 'Sing, Sing, Sing,´ I was referencing, do a quick youtube search. You'll recognize it instantly. And you won't be able to stop your feet from tapping 😊

9 chapters and there's finally a kiss. (In my head, I'm inserting the gif of Russell Crowe in Gladiator, yelling…Are you not entertained?) I kid…but in reality, nothing can be a wham bam thank you ma'am, sort of scenario with these 2 fools, can it? 2 steps forward, 1 step back. Or sometimes, 1 step forward, and a stubborn dig in with 2 steps back. But honestly…if that kiss would have gone on much longer, they might have gotten arrested for public indecency before they heard anything from our trio of goons.

Stubborn behavior surprises the best of us at times. And age doesn't matter, when it comes to matters of the heart, causing us to act a fool. In the absence of communication, we make up our own thoughts and fill in the blanks at times, and that can really do a wicked spell on logic. Steve and Natasha are suffering from not just having it out…in more ways than one.

But now, a road trip awaits! They won't be able to escape the drama they discovered, and the other drama they churned up between the two of them.

I love hearing from readers, so help a writer out and leave a comment with your thoughts.

Have a great weekend!

Cheers! ~~ Kat