1 Year Later

Andie smoothed down the fabric of the Little Black Dress she'd picked for Tony Stark's party. She'd arrived a few hours earlier to get ready with Natasha Romanoff, who refused to take no for an answer. Not that she minded; it was nice to have a friend to get ready with. Hell, after years working for SHIELD, it was just nice having a friend, full stop.

It might be a little much with the black Louboutins, but it would make her red hair stand out even more brightly than it did. Not that it mattered; the only person she knew who loved her red hair was Sam Wilson and she'd spent the better part of a year rebuffing him.

The man threw her out of a damn building! No way was she attracted to him.

Or his smile.

Those eyes.

And that charm of his certainly wasn't working on her.

Not even a little.

Pushing the thought from her head, she gave herself another once over, then walked back out to Nat's room and twirled around. "Well? Nothing like a classic LBD, right?" The skintight black dress was a bit of a contrast to Nat's classic 50s black and white dress. And while on the surface, their makeup was similar, Nat's was much more subtle and understated than her bold eyeliner and bright red lip.

Nat's face scrunched up as she scrutinized her. "It's nice, but I think I might have something better." She stood from where she'd been sitting on the bed and walked to her closet.

The metallic screech of metal hangers on the metal pole as she searched made Andie cringe.

"Ah!" Nat exclaimed. She emerged from the closet with a red dress with some kind of black pattern on it - maybe floral? "This is it. Try it on."

Andie arched an eyebrow as she accepted the dress. No way Nat didn't already know the dress would fit her. And they weren't the same size. But suspicion aside, it did seem like a really nice dress. The material was very soft, and the red matched her lipstick. It would go well with her heels too. "Fine."

A few minutes later she re-emerged into the bedroom, tugging the dress down. "It's a little short."

Nat smirked. "It's perfect."

"It is perfect," Andie shot back, eyebrow arched.

Shrugging, Nat approached and made a few adjustments to Andie's dress. "Grabbed the wrong size accidentally, missed the return window." She pulled back and inspected her work. "But it fits you like a glove."

"What an amazing and unexpected coincidence," Andie deadpanned as she spun around to look in the mirror. Now it all made sense. The pattern she couldn't work out earlier now very obviously resembled wings. The dress was to impress Sam. "Wings, Nat? Really?"

But her friend was already halfway out the door. "Get moving, Knight, we'll be late."

Andie shook her head and followed. "Subtle."

"Subtle goes over your head," Nat teased as they headed up to the party. Andie would've argued, but she wasn't exactly wrong. Maybe tonight was a night to relax and just…have fun. Regardless of who it was with.

A quick crack of cue on ball, and Sam groaned as Steve sank the 8–ball easily. It shouldn't have been a surprise with the man's enhanced physiology, but it still hurt the ol' ego; Sam liked to think he was pretty damn good at pool. But when you're up against Captain America, all bets were off. Literally, in this case. Steve had insisted on just a friendly game, no money, no bets of any kind.

Because of course he had.

At least Andie hadn't borne witness to the thorough ass-kicking.

Sam shook his head as a group of older veterans crowded the table and shooed them away.

"Our turn now, golden boys," one of the men grumbled.

Sam chuckled and raised his hands in defeat, allowing Steve to walk him away from the table.

Honestly, it had surprised him when he saw the number of veterans attending the party. Most if them were there, he suspected, courtesy of Steve. Part of him wondered how many of these men Steve had met back in the day, fighting in the trenches of World War II.

Or was the familiarity by name only?

Just a group of people Steve could talk to about his past?

"So how's the search for our missing persons coming along?" Steve prompted as they approached the bar.

"What can I get you gentleman?"

Steve waved the man off.

"Whiskey, thanks," Sam said. He nodded his thanks as the bartender returned with the glass. "Not much new so far."

Steve lead the way to the upper levels, overlooking the party.

Sam took a sip of the whiskey and smiled as the warmth spread. "Andie's found some stuff on the dark web, but don't ask me to explain it all." The explanation she'd offered went straight over his head, but he'd enjoyed watching her explain it all with an animated and inimitable excitement. Asking her to slow down and explain it again would've dampened her mood. And over the last year watching her get excited to explain things had slowly become a favourite pastime of his. Hell, he'd even sat through a long winded diatribe over the Lord of the Rings movies.

"Smart girl you've got there."

"Not so sure I've got her," he muttered around the rim of his glass.

"You'll get there," Steve assured him with a gentle slap at the back.

Time to redirect the conversation. "So, I heard Sokovia was a hell of a fight. Sorry I missed it." As they walked up the stairs, a blonde woman pushed between them, giving Steve the flirty bedroom eyes. "Every time."

Steve brushed it off. "If I had known it was going to be a firefight, I absolutely would've called you."

"No, no," Sam said. "I'm not actually sorry. I'm just tryin' to sound tough. I'm very happy chasing cold leads on our missing persons cases."

"Happy working with Andie?" Steve prompted, smirking.

Now it was Sam's turn to ignore the comment. "Avenging is your world, and your world is crazy," he said as they stepped up to the railing. Partygoers, loud music, people dressed to the nines. And half the people in the room were worth more money than Sam had seen in his life, more money than he would ever see. He was the B-team, not the A-team. And he'd been damn lucky to get an invite to a Stark party.

Sarah wasn't going to let him live it down, if he was in any of the pictures released.

"Be it ever so humble," Steve muttered. From the corner of his eye, Sam saw the wry grin tugging at his friend's mouth.

"Speaking of humble," he said. "You manage to find a place in Brooklyn yet?" Down in the crowd, a flash of red caught his eye. Red dress, red hair, the red bottom of a pair of heels. Andie. A smile pulled at the corners of his mouth as he sipped the whiskey.

"I don't think I can afford a place in Brooklyn," Steve muttered.

"Well," Sam said, "Home is home, you know?"

"Hmm."

A comfortable silence descended for a few minutes and Sam took the opportunity to check out Andie. That red dress clung to every curve perfectly. And those stiletto heels, legs for days, and the dip at her back. His fingers itched to hike that skirt up and -.

Time to cut that line of thought off before he risked walking around the party with a very obvious tent in his pants.

"Maybe you should go talk to her?" Steve's voice pulled him from his thoughts. "Looks like she could use a rescue."

Sam blinked at him, then looked back at Andie. He hadn't even seen the jackass talking to her. But going by the crossed arms, eyes darting around the room, and the way she kept trying to walk away, it wasn't a wanted conversation.

"You think it's a good time to turn on the ol' Wilson Charm?" he said, quickly finishing his drink.

Steve shrugged. "Or you could try just being yourself."

Maybe he had been laying it on a little bit thick. Sam squared his shoulders, put the empty glass on a nearby table, nodded to Steve, and headed down the stairs.

Be himself? He could do that.

"I've known Tony Stark for years," the asshole continued, completely oblivious to Andie's polite - in her opinion, anyway - attempts to shut him down. It felt like a damn life time of listening to him drone on about how successful he was and how he knew this person and that person and he was so rich and -. Exhausting. "I can introduce you, if you like?"

"No thanks," she said, sipping at the champagne in her hand. If she wasn't in the middle of a high profile party, she'd be tempted to shatter the glass and stab him in the eye. There wasn't enough alcohol in the world to make him tolerable.

"Oh come on, babe," he continued, seemingly oblivious. The guy was good looking enough - blonde curls piled on top of his head, bright blue eyes, and he obviously worked out - but had the kind of personality that made her physically ill. Just so full of himself. "Stark's really nice. Might even let me give you a private tour of -."

A hand came to rest at the small of her back and Andie looked to her right to see Sam Wilson handing her another glass. "Sorry I'm late."

Arching her eyebrow, she accepted the glass and handed him her empty champagne flute as she took a sip. Without even looking, he took it and dropped it on a table. His eyes were laser-focussed on the guy who'd been trying to flirt with her.

The asshole looked Sam up and down with a sneer, like somehow Sam was the worthless one. "When you're ready for a real man -."

"Don't worry," Andie cut him off. "I know where to look." She glanced up at Sam; if looks could kill, the asshole would've been in a bodybag. So she held the champagne flute in his field of vision and quirked an eyebrow when he looked at her. "Let's go."

Sam downed the rest of the flute in one go as Andie walked away with him.

"And here I thought you were the one trying to rescue me," she teased. "Good champagne?"

"That guy was an asshole," Sam grumbled.

Andie bit down on a smile. "I did notice that. Lucky for me I had a knight in…," she gave him a sidelong glance, taking in his sneakers, casual shirt and pants, and jean jacket, "dark blue denim."

The tension visibly melted off his body and his scowl was replaced with an easy smile she'd rarely seen. Usually he was…too much. Like he was putting on a show for her. "Okay, fine, you got me." He glanced down at her heels and muttered, "How the hell do you walk in those things, anyway?"

"Very carefully," she shot back. "Why? Does it bother you that these make us the same height?"

Sam reached up and scrubbed the back of his neck, very carefully studying the stairs they were climbing as a hint of colour flushed his cheeks. "Bothered isn't the word I'd use."

Andie fought the heat rushing to her face and chewed on her bottom lip. This wasn't the time or the place. "You know, I prefer this," she said softly.

"Big parties? Rich dudes everywhere? Expensive champagne?"

"No," she laughed. "This. You. Easy and relaxed. You're almost tolerable when you're not trying too hard." A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she watched a group of veterans finish up a game of pool. The free and easy teasing amongst the group was familiar, comfortable.

"Almost tolerable?" If she didn't know better, she might've said he was offended. But it was hardly the worst thing she'd ever said to him. And the twinkle in his eye told her he loved the banter.

Worrying her bottom lip between her teeth, she glanced up at him through her lashes. Was it a bad idea to flirt with Sam, of all people? The man who'd been driving her nuts for well over a year? Maybe. And no way she'd had enough to drink to blame it on the alcohol.

Could she really stay mad at a man who not only sat through her rambling on about Tolkien lore, but actually listened and actively engaged in the conversation?

Pushing that thought aside, she murmured, "Impress me, flyboy."

Half an hour later, she was standing by the pool table as Nat thoroughly wiped the floor with Sam's ego. It had started with him trying - and failing - to teach her how to play. Not that she'd minded having his arms around her as he helped her line up shots. Unfortunately, it seemed she lacked every piece of coordination she had in a fight when it came to playing pool. And Nat had stepped in.

Game after game, she'd won. And he'd kept going. Best two out of three. Best five out of seven. But he hadn't won a single game.

Andie leaned on the nearest railing with Steve Rogers, watching them play. It was amazing how much her life had changed in a little over a year; from a nearly friendless SHIELD agent to hanging out with the Avengers at an exclusive party.

Shaking her head, she took a sip of her beer.

"It's nice," Steve said. "You and Sam getting along."

Andie shrugged. "He's tolerable when he's not trying too hard."

"Tolerable?" The smirk, the disapproving eyebrow. Clearly he wasn't buying it.

But Andie wasn't about to concede anything out loud. Instead, she smiled around the neck of her beer as Sam missed a shot.

"Oh, come on!" he groaned, stepping back to allow Nat to get at the table.

"Maybe you should've picked something else to impress me with," she teased as he approached.

Sam tucked in his chin and gave her 'the look'. She could easily imagine him as an old man with reading glasses, glancing at her disapprovingly over the frames. The image had her biting back on a smile.

"You wanna try?" Sam deadpanned, offering her the cue.

Andie shook her head. "Oh, no, we already know how badly that'll end."

Sam leaned on the railing next to her, hand resting just behind her back. As they watched, Nat systematically cleared the pool table, winning yet another game.

But before Sam could ask for more rounds, Andie put a hand out to stop him. "You know, chicks dig a guy who can lose gracefully," she teased.

He toed at her heels gently. "And guys dig a chick in heels," he said. "I really don't care about the height thing."

Until then, she hadn't realized she'd been leaning lower on the railing. "Some guys feel emasculated," she said, pushing off the railing. A quick glance over her shoulder and she saw Steve and Nat had left. Subtle, Nat.

Sam laughed and it sent a rush of warmth through her. "I already humiliated myself at pool," he said, putting the cue back. "I think we're good on that front, Andie." He turned back and offered her the crook of his elbow.

The way her name rolled off his tongue in that rich baritone of his almost sent a shiver up her spine. Every time, even when she was pissed. Smiling, Andie hooked her arm through his. "So much for impressing me," she teased.

"I thought you said chicks dig a guy who can lose gracefully?" he shot back.

Andie laughed. "That I did, flyboy."