Everything about her screamed warning signs, but the slight tilt of the corner of her mouth suggested she knew her prey well enough to be aware of their dismissal of these dangers. I cover my amused smile with my flute of champagne, taking a long sip.
Stark was throwing a charity gala to help cover the funds of the attack on New York. Natasha was here for the obvious reasons, her being one of the newly crowned heroes of the world, Maria Hill and I were also sent by Director Fury to represent S.H.I.E.L.D. and of course donate large sums of money. The three of us had joked earlier about the amount of old pigs and drunken young pigs-in-the-making we’d have to soldier through, and the redhead had joked about a competition of how many numbers she could score before three in the morning. Maria hadn’t thought she was serious, but I knew her well enough to know this was more of a challenge than a game.
Doesn’t matter now. Maria had bailed around an hour ago, leaving me to the mercy of Tristan Danes, an executive at Dane Corp. I stayed long enough to become disgusted by his attempts to woo me and left without his number but his wounded ego in my clutches. That left me two partners behind Nat.
I lean against the wall in the shadows, watching her place her hand on the arm of some brown-eyed guy. Something uncomfortable twists in my stomach. My gaze narrows as I tune out the music, the bustle of the party, and pretty much everything that affects my zeroing in on the pair. Is she actually enjoying this? Can’t be. Can it?
I huff, annoyed but unsure as to why. Probably because Hill ditched. Parties are dull without the sharp-eyed woman’s witty remarks, which she uses to dull the high levels of testosterone around us. I down the rest of my drink and tap my fingers against the glass lightly, distracted. Natasha kisses the man’s cheek. In my fury I don’t notice another man approach me.
“Excuse me, love, you look darling tonight—”
“Hold this.” I shove the empty champagne flute into his arms and march on a warpath towards them at the bar. The crowd parts as I comb through them.
Natasha does not look surprised in the slightest to see me in front of her. She’s laughing, and the sound is enough to make me stumble in my rage. The man she’d been flirting with turns around and I recognise him as Gregory Richards, a known golden boy. I sneer at him before he can greet me, shocking him into effective silence. I turn to my redheaded friend. “I need you to fix my lipstick. Come with me to the bathroom?”
“Your lipstick looks fine to me,” she quips innocently.
“Can’t you do it yourself?” Gregory asks with a good-natured laugh.
“We share a lipstick tube. I need her to do it.”
“Oh.”
I’ve set us into an awkward silence, but somehow poor Greg seems to be the only one experiencing the uncomfortable feeling. Natasha glares at me. I glare at him. He looks up as if praying to God for safety, strength, and alcohol.
“I’ll … leave you two to your devices,” he decides.
“I think that would be best,” I say curtly, lacing my fingers through Natasha’s and hauling her through the dance floor, down some stairs, and through a hallway. She doesn’t object until we’re far enough away from the noise and hollers of the party, which is when she plants her feet firmly on the ground, almost causing me to stumble.
“The bathroom is this way,” she says pointedly. I note that she doesn’t let go of my hand as she leads me there. Once inside, she locks the door and retrieves several balls of napkins and one business card from her pockets, tossing them in the sink. “Seven numbers, including Gregory’s.”
“And a business card.”
“How many did you get?”
“My dress doesn’t have pockets. But five. Threw ‘em out as soon as I got them.”
“Is that why you dragged me here? You’re being a sore loser?”
My jaw clenches. “No.”
Silence.
Natasha approaches slowly, pulling out a red lipstick tube. “Stand still, part your lips.”
I do as I’m bid and she swipes the tube across my lips in two dragged out swipes. My eyes wander to her own mouth. Her expression is a blank slate. Not knowing what I’m thinking, or if I’m thinking anything at all, I close the distance between us until our noses are gently bumping together.
“You want this?” I ask carefully.
She kisses me in response. My right hand tangles through her short scarlet locks, the other rests on her waist to pull her body closer to mine. She sighs contentedly, her arms wrapping around my neck as she deepens the kiss, caressing the bare skin of my shoulder. Our mouths work perfectly against each other, sweet and sour with the added spice of the whiskey she’d been sipping on all night. I taste every heaven on her lips, and I want more. I gently tug on her hair as I part us, moving to trail butterfly kisses down her neck.
A/N: Fluff created whilst procrastinating. @caitlinsnow-yayyy there is tap dancing!
This might be very silly.
She met your eye in the mirror. You could see the sparkle.
‘Don’t even say it.’ Scarlett warned you, her voice rasping like in the movies.
You smiled, not quite believing the image in front of you. Scarlett’s sweaty ponytail swung quickly as she turned to face you properly.
‘I can’t dance like this!’ She exclaimed, throwing her arms in the air with mock exasperation.
She glared at her tap shoes and you felt the smile on your face stretch.
She wasn’t wrong. Her attempt at the dance routine was terrible. You were no expert, but that much was clear.
You lifted your hands in pretend surrender.
‘The judges might still say yes.’ You told her seriously.
Scarlett rolled her eyes as she turned back to the mirror.
‘I’m not going on America’s Got Talent.’ She reiterated, squaring her shoulders as she readied herself to try again.
You bit your lip, feeling sure that a sturdier posture was not what Scarlett needed.
Instead, you climbed back onto the static exercise bike at the back of the communal gym.
You cycled with pathetically low levels of enthusiasm, watching Scarlett try to imitate the dance routine performed exquisitely by a professional on her laptop.
When she paused the video, you took the opportunity to speak again.
‘Dancing with the stars?’
‘How did you guess?’
Her dry tone sent a weird thrill down your spine.
None of this should be happening.
You’d booked a room at a tiny hotel in the off season, wanting to get away from everything at a reasonable price.
You’d underestimated just how off the off season would be. A skeleton staff operated, the nearby beach seemed spookily desolate.
You’d turned up at the gym on the second day, desperate for any activity. That’s where you’d found the only other person mad enough to book December at the seaside.
Scarlett was practicing for a top secret role. She was here to find herself. Or, more specifically, to find herself in the top secret role.
You were only here to marvel (pun intended).
You snorted as she tripped over her own feet. Scarlett lifted her middle finger without looking back.
‘Could you do it better?’ She snarked, just like she had the day before.
You rested your elbows on the bike handle and gave a fake sigh.
‘No.’ You admitted. ‘I guess I’ll have to give back all my Oscars.’
‘I don’t have any Oscars.’ Scarlett reminded you, glittering humour barely hidden in her stare.
You shrugged.
‘Guess you’re going to have to learn to tap dance then.’
You leaned over to grab your bag. It was time to make an exit. You were always deeply conscious of overstaying your interactions with Scarlett.
‘Wait.’ Scarlett called as you crossed the room. You froze with embarrassing obedience. ‘Do you have lunch plans?’
A laugh bubbled out of you before you could help it.
‘Uh huh.’ You deadpanned. ‘I’m going to that hot dog stand where all the starving pigeons hang out, wanna come?’
‘Yes.’ Scarlett responded simply, as she began to pack up her own bag.
You tried not to look too stunned.
Together, you walked back to your rooms. With just the two of you staying here, the tiny hotel was miraculously half full.
Scarlett was the best awkward talker you had ever known. She filled moments with innocuous, random stories about her life, her passing thoughts, her deepest aspirations (for the weather to get better).
Sometimes, you caught your mouth hanging open as you listened, enthralled. Generally you tried to nod at the right moments, half remembering a Youtube video you’d once seen about active listening.
Scarlett found it a lot easier to forget that she was beautiful. You were still working on it.
She raked her fingers through her ponytail absentmindedly as she stood outside your door. You tried not to have an obvious orgasm.
‘Meet back here in an hour?’ She asked with an unintentionally winning smile, that already anticipated your agreement.
———-
When you met again, after an hour of hyperventilating into a musty hotel wardrobe, your legs were a little shaky.
It wasn’t a date. (It couldn’t be right?)
Scarlett started talking again as you walked out to the boardwalk that lined one side of the hotel. She paused, almost imperceptibly, as she mentioned the difficulties of being a singlemom.
It wasn’t a date. (But, was it?)
You let your arm brush hers. Scarlett’s smile grew a little wider.
The hot dog stand was run by a teenage boy, experiencing the most boring winter break of his life.
Scarlett hung back, leaning against the low stone wall that bordered the sandy coastline. Her eyes lingered warily on the cell phone in the boy’s hand.
You hesitated momentarily and Scarlett’s gaze turned to you. You nearly missed her self-consciousness, hiding behind the resigned shoulder shrug.
You asked her for her order, trying to relieve the unspoken awkwardness that now floated in the air.
You returned with two hot dogs in your hands and two bottles of soda in your pockets. You said nothing about the brief weirdness of being faced with Scarlett’s celebrity. You watched her shoulders slowly relax as you ambled along the empty beach instead.
‘My sneakers are full of sand.’ Scarlett told you, mouth half full.
‘It’s a hard life.’ You agreed somberly, accepting her sharp elbow aiming for your side.
When you’d both finished eating, there was a strange moment of quiet.
You stood together, strong wind buffeting against your clothes. You felt your skin flush under Scarlett’s occasional thoughtful gaze.
You waited dumbly for Scarlett to break the silence.
A gull squawked above you, and you remembered that you also had the power to speak.
‘It’s so grey, but I bet the sunset is beautiful.’ You murmured absentmindedly, staring out across the flat waves.
Scarlett’s fingers touched your own, and your attention was immediately redirected. She took a step back from you and you watched as she dragged her sneaker across the sand, carving a large X.
‘Maybe, we can find out tonight.’ She murmured, not quite meeting your eyes. Her fingers were still touching yours, lingering purposefully.
‘I’d like that.’ You heard your tone turn reassuring, responding instinctively to Scarlett’s nervous avoidance of your direct gaze.
Carefully, with your heart in your mouth, you rubbed your thumb in a half circle over the back of her hand.
You watched Scarlett’s breath catch. You watched her lip twitch with a tiny smile.
‘See you later.’ She told you simply, before she turned to walk away.
———-
The sunset would be occurring, according to Google, at 7.55pm.
You hyperventilated into a musty hotel wardrobe for much of the afternoon. The fear of seeming too eager kept you in your hotel room until 7.45pm.
You only realised that you’d misjudged it when you saw her lone figure.
You could see Scarlett standing at the X as you walked closer. She looked tiny, standing in relief against the neverending expanse of water.
As you approached, she turned briefly in your direction and you realised that she was crying.
Your footsteps hurried instantly and you fought the immediate urge to call her name, aware of drawing the attention of the few beachgoers in your vicinity.
Scarlett didn’t notice you until your hand was on her shoulder.
At your touch, you felt her body shudder in surprise.
‘Oh.’ She mumbled, touching absentmindedly at the tears on her cheeks.
‘Are you okay?’ You asked worriedly, keeping your hand daringly on her shoulder.
‘I thought you weren’t coming.’ She admitted suddenly, eyes meeting yours.
Despite every minute you’d already spent with her, you knew you were seeing Scarlett for the first time.
‘Google told me 7.55’ You hurried to excuse yourself. ‘I wouldn’t miss this for anything.’
Scarlett rolled her glistening eyes to the darkening sky above her.
‘Bing said 7.30.’
You bit your lip, fighting the urge to say something stupid.
‘I’m freezing.’ She informed you, moving closer to your body with renewed confidence. Your arm slipped around her shoulders with a perfect simpleness.
‘It is beautiful.’ You noted, sparing a glance for the flawless sunset.
Scarlett hummed in agreement. Your gaze caught on the golden hue of the dying sun that was lighting up her face. You watched the burning sunset reflected in her eyes.
‘So are you.’ You told her simply.
Scarlett turned towards you, her expression filled with tentativeness.
You leaned closer and felt her do the same. The air felt electric.
You let your lips brush hers.
‘It’s such a shame you can’t dance.’ You teased, enjoying the way she rolled her eyes before she kissed you.
