PSL for punched_hitler

[tothefly]

The tower doesn't see very many quiet days. Even fewer quiet nights, honestly, and it's enough to make her itchy. So, in lieu of world-destroying robots and/or alien menaces presenting themselves, Natasha takes matters into her own hands and makes the executive decision, dropping gracefully into the end of the couch currently occupied by one Steve Rogers, reading the paper.

"Hey, Rogers. You have anything nice to wear? Your Sunday best, but less ice-cream-social."

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[punched_hitler]

"S'okay, Bucky used to take an hour," he shoots back with a wry smile - this may or may not be true, but either way, he might take a ten-minute shower, now, instead of a three-minute one.

He's not sure how well they're going to be able to sneak anywhere around here, but then, if anyone knows that, it'll be Natasha. So he decides to put his faith in her and he does take a ten-minute shower, takes his time shaving and gelling his hair, and leaves everything but his wallet in his room before he heads back for the common room, admittedly glad that he doesn't actually run into anyone else on the way - hell, there might not actually be anyone else around, he is usually the only one around on Friday nights.

[tothefly]

Somehow, she can see that. Not from the man she's met, the man she's known, but the one she's seen pictures of--the Sergeant James Barnes with the perfectly groomed hair at the exact right level of rakish disarray. "Then I guess you're used to waiting," she says, a hint of dry amusement in her voice as she stands again, brushing a hand over the back of the couch as she heads up to the guest apartments she's taken over to get ready.

Never let it be said that Natasha Romanoff ever brings less than her A game, even for something that's just supposed to be casual fun, two people who might even be friends having dinner together; when she appears back downstairs, it's with perfectly coiffed curls and a black lace dress that's just the right balance between modest and suggestive, heels that don't quite put her on eye level with him but at least bring her over shoulder level. Funny how easy it is to forget the size difference between them. "You ready? Last chance to change your mind," she calls, stepping out into the common area again.

[punched_hitler]

"Guess so," Steve murmurs - it's true, either way - and figures he can always pick his paper back up if he ends up getting done early.

Which is exactly what he's done, when she reappears; she does look good, he can't deny that, regardless of the reason they're going out, and part of him sort of feels like he's going to turn around and see the real reason she's done up, see her actual date for the night, because it couldn't possibly be him.

But it is, and he puts the paper back down and steps up himself, offering an arm. "Are you kidding? You are the second-most beautiful dame to ever ask me out; I may be big, but I'm not dumb." Of course, he gives her a bit of an intentionally dumb grin anyway, before tilting his head to the door. "We driving? Or taking a cab?"