Chapter 4: How about a dance?

Steve was tense. He looked at the people around him. It was a small party hosted by Tony. Since it was hosted by Tony and paid for by the billionaire, it was nowhere small. The soldier was standing at the side like a wallflower, looking at everyone having fun.

But he tensed up further when a certain red-haired spy approached him, a glass held in her left hand. Natasha sometimes boasted that she could make good cocktails. It was needed for missions where she would display herself as a bartender. But anyway, her cocktails were indeed good. But he was usually the only one who could finish her specialty.

"Bottoms up, Cap," she said, giving the glass of blood-red colored cocktail to him. "This is my specialty."

"Hmm, are you giving that to me because no one else is that stupid to drink that again?"

Natasha scoffed. "Come now, Rogers, I made this especially for you," she said with a seductive wink. "Only you can handle this…"

Steve hung his head in defeat. He took the glass and drank everything in one gulp. "Happy?" he said. Natasha's special cocktail actually tasted good. However, she probably used the hardest liquor that anyone, other than Steve, who took a sip of it could get knocked out in a minute. That was why no one could drink the whole thing.

Steve smirked deep inside. The best part of the drink would be the last part since the aftertaste would have a hint of something heavenly that he could not describe. Nobody else had reached that point.

"So, soldier, why are you being a wallflower here?" she asked, nudging him with her elbow. "You are actually the most wanted guy in the dancefloor and you're here, acting like you're some pitiful virgin."

Steve blushed. Before he could open his mouth to respond, he saw Clint walk towards his friend. "It seems like Cap is not interested to dance."

"Boo hoo. His hip bone might break," Natasha said with a small laugh. "Hey, want to try my specialty?"

"Thanks, but no thanks. I want to get home without crashing the car."

"Soo, Grandpa Steve. We'll go have some fun now," she said. "Try dancing with someone. Anyone!" she said.

"Natasha, I…"

"If you don't, I'm gonna make an extra hard version of my Black Widow cocktail and I'll make you drink," she threatened, her green eyes bigger than usual.

Steve exhaled loudly. She could not really threaten him with the drink since it did not have an effect on him. But he did not really want to indulge himself with it because he might long for that strange aftertaste. He saw the spy glare at one of the Accounting girls and cock her head towards Steve as if saying, "Hey, you, dance with this dude or else!"

The next hour consisted of Steve painfully dancing with the girls Natasha pushed towards him. The combination of his nonexistent dancing skills and his awkwardness towards women made the party experience the worst ever. He sometimes glanced at Natasha and would sometimes see her sniggering with Clint or facepalming in frustration at his failure.

He thankfully smiled as the last girl his partner pushed to him bade him a nice night before leaving him on the floor. However, before Steve could escape to the sides, a pair of hands grasped his, forcing his right hand on her waist. He almost gasped in surprise when he saw who it was, his blue eyes meeting her green ones.

"Hmm, I'll give you a pitiful 5 out of ten," she said.

"For what?"

"Captain America, the nation's golden boy, sucks in dancing and talking with women," she said mockingly.

"Well, thanks for the award," he replied.

The spy smiled. "Let me teach you so some skills. Let's see how your enhanced brain capacity can handle this crash dancing lesson."

"And you will give it."

"Well, that's also part of…"

"… your resume," Steve finished with a grin. He gave an expectant sigh. "I wonder when I'll actually see that skill of yours."

For a moment, he saw Natasha's cocky grin disappear. However, she was able to regain that expression on her face, her lip twitching to show a smirk. "Well, keep on wishing, Cap."

She started steering him across the dancefloor, hissing instructions, kicking his legs and stepping on his feet to lead him to the right directions. He did not really mind as he was looking at Natasha's face. She was carrying herself very well even though she was secretly instructing him. Her eyes shone bright under the lights of the chandelier; her hair that was effortlessly curled at the ends; and her simple make up – mainly the bright red shade of her lips that really matched with her hair.

He was too busy looking at her that he did not realize that the music had ended and the remaining guests - mainly the Avengers – were applauding.

Clint was whistling. "Yay, Cap finally learned how to dance!"

"Wow, in fairness, you did well," Natasha said, giving him three claps.

"Thanks, Natasha. I won't be able to get out of bed tomorrow," he grunted. The end of their dance number brought him back to earth and subjected him to the full impact of Natasha's harsh dance lesson. He sat down and watched the woman perform a pirouette, making her dress flow with her, before proceeding to the bar to make another round of her venomous cocktail.

Steve left silently, going to his floor in the Avengers' tower. He had the strange feeling that if Natasha did the same dancing lesson to other people, they would not be able to walk forever. Looking at his feet, he realized that the pain was not so bad. "Natasha could have had it worse," he said to himself, remembering the files that he had read about her. It really surprised him that she also danced, ballet in particular.

His mouth opened in a silent yelp of pain as he removed his shoes and socks, revealing bruised feet. He dropped his pants and observed some bluish marks on his legs.

"How are you feeling, Rogers?" Natasha's voice said. He turned around and found her at the doorway.

He immediately put on some sweatpants and a plain black shirt. He sat down. "Exhausted," he replied. "You are… ummm… an intense teacher."

Natasha held out a salve. She sat on the edge of the bed and patted the space beside her to make Steve sit as well. She pulled his leg and immediately applied the salve on the bruised skin. He moaned at the nice cool feeling.

"When we were being trained, we were hit on the legs for every mistake," she muttered more to herself. "This herbal salve was very helpful," She finished applying and gave a slight pat on Steve's leg. "There."

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it." Natasha stood up and made her way towards the entrance. Steve felt a bit disappointed that she was leaving already. "Oh…" She turned around again.

"Hmm…?"

"You are actually a good dancer. You just need some practice."

"Yeah. You said it yourself. Everybody needs practice," Steve replied with a grin. He would not mind having Natasha as his dancing teacher.