"Are you kidding me?" Natasha throws back the rest of her drink and sets her empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter before taking Steve's hand. "In this dress, I'd be a little insulted if you didn't."
She's not sure if he realizes that she's using him to show herself off. There's a fluid quality to the fabric of her dress. It ripples like there's a current in it, a swelling tide. It's what helps to camouflage the fact that she's surprisingly heavily armed. It has other uses, though. She's not one for swaying, but he doesn't have to do much. She can use him like a prop, as long as it's something she can fold into the cover. Not all men can dance. SOme are absolutely hopeless, so why not this fake woman's fake husband?
He does look pretty happy, though. She wonders how long it's been since he went dancing. Then, on the heels of that, she wonders what he'd make of dancing today. The idea makes her chuckle.
He does realize what she's doing, yes, but he doesn't mind it much. Especially in this context. As much as he enjoys her company, they are here for work before anything else, and she's playing a part just like she must. As is he, of course. If he so happens to enjoy having her close to him like this, well... that's doing no harm, now is it.
He's not a terrible dancer by any means, but it's obvious he doesn't know any proper steps, and he seems to have a tendency to sway more so than dance. She keeps up, though, sometimes taking the lead and change the steps a bit.
Her chuckle draws him out of an odd thought or another, and he lifts an eyebrow at her. "What's so funny?"
"I'm trying to imagine you shaking your ass on the rooftop of The Standard. It doesn't quite work. If you think Wikipedia is too much..." She shrugs one shoulder, then steps back with one foot to brace herself, and does most of the work in a dip so low her hair almost brushes the floor. It's much easier to lead someone without looking like you're leading them if you're just walking, but Steve has a natural sense of the way his own body moves, a good read on the way hers does, and he thinks well on his feet. All in all, it could be much worse. They make quite the striking pair.
He huffs in something close to a laugh, cut short when she leans back suddenly. He follows easily enough, though, hand pressed to the small of her back when he realizes what she's doing, though she seems to hold most of her own weight perfectly without needing his support. Still, he applies a bit of pressure as she pulls back up, drawing her a little closer to him than he'd intended to.
"Is that one of those modern dancing clubs people go to these days?"
"Yes." She's smirking, and it adds to the image of the intimacy of the pair, but that's not the reason. "It's one of those modern dancing clubs. You know. For the young people. Which... I don't know, are you in your twenties?" She leans in closer, so that there's absolutely no chance of her whisper carrying to anyone but him. "Or are you in your hundred and twenties? Are you one of the kids, or the old man yelling at them to get off his lawn? Because that's probably going to heavily influence your social calendar from here on out."
He would look offended if he didn't know she's just teasing him right now. He feigns an upset huff, though, letting out a chuckle. His eyes dart vaguely across the room as they turn on the dance floor. "I am in my thirties. Early thirties, as you are well aware. Besides, I don't even have a lawn, so."
"Please. At your age, you are way past the time when you start fudging the birthday count. Start now. Maybe by the time you look sixty you'll have evened things out." She leads him to spin her out, then back in, in careful time with the music, skirt billowing out around her. "Besides, the lawn is metaphorical. You can still be the cranky old man. You don't even have to wear the socks and sandals. Which is a good thing. Not a good look on anybody."
The song ends, the light applause begins, and Natasha turns to join. The next song is much more sedate. "You're more of a sway-er, aren't you?" She holds out her arms in an obliging manner. They can sway for a little while. Not much to do in the way of showcasing assets, but Steve does seem to be enjoying himself, and they've got the time.
He laughs, shrugging. "Why would I lie about my age? Anyway, thirty isn't old. I'm still very fit and full of energy, thank you," he tips his head, winking playfully at her as he pulls her back in after that spin. "I don't have the habit of going around yelling at people and complaining about everything, no. So don't worry about that."
Matching everyone else, he applauds once the song is over, turning back to her when the next one begins. Maybe it's indulging a little, and maybe he shouldn't be enjoying himself while working, but there's no harm in just... one more dance. "I've never learned any proper dance steps," he admits, stepping closer and placing one arm around her, then the other when he sees the other couples doing the same. "But I like dancing. Swaying especially, yes."
One more turns into two, then three, drinks peppered in the down time between. Dancing is fun, and there's not a ton of other ways to kill the time. Natasha watches the crowd around them, a few faces in particular. She waits for the flushed cheeks, the slightly glassy eyes. She waits until gesturing hands begin to flail a little more wildly, until amused laughter turns raucous. This event is, on the surface, a fundraiser. That means that those in charge have a vested interest in getting people drunk enough to part with quite a large chunk of change, so their window is small. "All right," she tells Steve as the two of them sip another pair of drinks in the corner. "Time to go. You've got your four marks. Start with the one who was staring at you."
She's got her own lines to reel in. It's a throwaway comment, back over her shoulder when she's a few steps away from him. "Oh, and don't be surprised if he's got the same idea that you did earlier. You know, about getting you out of your clothes." Hopefully Steve is tipsy enough to just roll with this.
Natasha's more observant than he is, more used to her surroundings too, so he follows her lead and waits for her go-ahead when she starts to pick up on clues that tell her it's time they move in. He nods when she announces it's time, taking one last sip from his drink and setting it down on a table nearby.
Smoothing his clothes as he squares his shoulders, he looks over at her as she throws that remark at him. He frowns for a moment, confused, but he's not completely ignorant either. It may take him a few seconds but then it clicks in his head, and then he's struggling not to blush viciously.
Anyway, it's work. It has to be done. Not that he plans on getting on any level of undressing with the guy, but he won't die if he has to be a little more... friendly than he's comfortable with. He starts off across the room, walking casually as if there's no real purpose to it, until he manages to get close enough to his first mark, and he'll try to keep up the same relaxed attitude as he makes his way through his list.
Hopefully not all of them are as prone to flirting.
He was right about one thing, he definitely doesn't read as spy.
She gives him the signal when the room is past the point of useful intoxication, and then begins to feign it herself. He can help her out to the balcony for some air. It's deserted at the moment because of a light drizzle making the brisk evening actually cold. It's a good place to vanish for a bit. Mostly because there's only one way in and out.
Which is perfect, because she's got lots to tell him. Hopefully, he's also got something useful to share.
He can tell when he starts getting less information out of people, so her signal comes as no surprise. He parts ways with his current company with a smile and a bow of his head, and leaves them to keep drinking and turning their attention on someone else. He's quick to make his way back to Natasha's side, taking her idea and going with it as he leads them out to the balcony.
"So? Enjoyed the party?" He keeps the question inane enough at first, until he's sure they're out of anyone's ear range.
Natasha's response is a lazy smile and a laugh, until they're through the doors and off to one side. All pretense of intoxication vanishes quickly. "Senator's definitely dirty. Also a lecherous creep who wouldn't give me his room key, which means there's something worth hiding in there. So something is happening with him tonight, and I've got..." She checks Steve's watch again. "About fifteen minutes before our absence is noticed. So..." She nods her head straight up, at the hotel windows and balconies of the more prestigious rooms above their heads. "Do you want to wait here, or do you feel like coming along?"
He looks up to the same windows when she nods, eyebrows raising with a light huff. "I think I'd just hold you back," he says honestly. He's in good shape, granted, but she's much quicker and more flexible than he is. "You go, I'll stay here. Keep in touch, and if you need a distraction, let me know. I'll think of something."
He's hoping she'll be fast and it won't come to that, but you never know.
"Tripping and spilling a drink down someone's dress is usually pretty distracting," she says as she pulls her stealth Bites from where they were strapped to her leg. She slips off her shoes, takes the time to decide on the best connection point, and quickly takes aim. "Oh, and if someone else is dumb enough to be out here when it's this cold, go in the corner behind that plant and make embarrassing sex noises."
She spares one final glance to see if he's blushing again before she shoots out a grappling line and gets herself airbourne. It's a hell of a rush. Kind of literally. Time is against her for a lot of reasons, not the least of which is that a woman scaling the facade of a five star hotel is something that's ridiculously difficult to explain. So it's 90 seconds to zip her way up eight floors.
Fifteen minutes. She can do this. Steve will be fine.
It's as good a suggestion as any other, and much along the lines of what Steve was thinking of. The last remark surprises him more, though, and when she looks back she likely won't miss the flustered look on his face, even if the dark of the night mostly hides the blush. He finds himself hoping with all his might that no one will come out here while Natasha is climbing up or down the wall, he'd be mortified to have to do something like... that.
He keeps his eyes on her for a moment longer, impressed she manages to zip up the eight floors in such a short time. Eventually he looks back out over the city, feigning a sip from his already empty glass, trying to look as inconspicuous as can be as he glances back in at the party. Luckily the Senator's still there, not showing any signs that he plans to leave. Hopefully it'll stay that way.
Getting into the room is no problem. She's lucky he's not staying longer, that there isn't much to look through. She downloads the files from both computers she finds, breaks into a briefcase that turns out to be full of cash. Cash that now has trackers embedded in the security strips of quite a few of the bills. She goes through his clothes, checking the time several times. They're going to be missed soon.
Picking up the drives and the phone, she's preparing to leave, and it's in making sure the room doesn't look disturbed that she finds the second case.
Well, she'd be kind of antsy if she had a container of nuclear material, too. Obviously she can't leave it. She tucks the canister down the front of her dress and radios Steve. "Hey. How are we doing? I need to go lateral. Am I clear?"
He sets down his glass eventually and spends the rest of the time trying not to pace impatiently along the balcony, while avoiding looking at his watch too many times. He moves to a spot a little to the side where people inside won't notice him as much and he stays there, glancing up only once or twice, biting back any unease when he hears a voice more clearly every so often, as if they're about to step outside.
Luckily no one does, and eventually it's Natasha's voice that rings clearly in his ear, through the nearly invisible device tucked into his ear. He taps his watch to activate it, looking into the party to make sure no one will hear him, then looks away and speaks up. "You're fine. Not a lot of time, though, so better make it quick," he glances across the city, then adds with a faint smile. "You can always jump, and I'll catch you." He's kidding, don't do that.
Natasha chuckles. "I might be cutting it that close. We'll see." First thing's first, though, and she's swinging from the Senator's balcony to a room a few doors over. Then down two floors, until she gets to a room that's clearly rented but isn't occupied. This is the room she goes through, exits to run across the hotel to their own room, stashing the canister in a black case that she leaves on the balcony to be picked up by drone. Then she runs back to the rented but empty room, back onto the balcony, and hooks her line back onto a balcony above where Steve is.
He doesn't look up at first so he doesn't spot her moving around, and he waits patiently (as patiently as he can manage) until she speaks up again. That's when he looks up, spotting some very faint moving around above him. Her red dress makes her easier to spot too, so it's a good thing no one else is out here.
"Clear. You should have a minute or two at this point. I think—" he glances inside, hiding a little behind that plant she mentioned earlier. "Our absence is just about to be noticed." They may need an excuse as to why they disappeared for so long.
He was joking about catching her, she's sure, and she's not jumping with no support, but she is swinging over in line with Steve and then dropping straight down. She'll be fine if he just lets her hit the balcony, but he's in a position to soften her fall.
He doesn't quite realize how literal she's being there, but at least he reacts just in time when she makes a sudden descent. He takes a couple of steps to the side so he can catch her weight in his arms, letting out a small huff because while she's not exactly heavy, she's armed like a damn tank and the momentum of her fall has added something to the force with which she lands on his arms.
"Just dropping by?" He offers with a small smile, raising an eyebrow.
"Oh, that was bad," she says, though she does so with a chuckle. A quick flick of the wrist detaches and retracts her line. She moves to strap the Bites back on her thigh. "Have you looked up dad jokes yet?"
Back on her feet, she straightens her dress and slips her shoes back on. "We've got a slight hiccup, by the way. We're not leaving this party until he does. Hopefully that'll be soon." Her gear is re-stashed, and she once again looks like a trophy wife wearing the hell out of an evening gown. So it's his watch that she checks. "Little long." Nothing to do about that, though. She runs her fingers through her hair, mussing it very slightly. After a moment's thought, she plucks a leaf off of a potted plant against the wall and tucks it into her hair. "Notice this once we're back inside," she tells him, fingers ruining the careful part in his own hair before smoothing it back into place. "Make sure we're in line of sight of someone when you pull it out of my hair."
"Made you chuckle," he shrugs, feeling victorious enough about that. He shakes his head at her question, though he figures it's rhetorical, at least for now. They have other things to worry about.
At first he's not quite aware of what she's doing, messing up her hair right after straightening herself out, but he catches on quick, and with a slight fluster that will likely help along with their little farce, he clears his throat and nods. He runs his own hand through his hair, knowing that now it looks like it was messed up and unsuccessfully combed to the side again, then he follows her inside.
Once a couple's eyes are on them, as well as one of those bulky security fellas, he steps closer to her, slowing her down as he plucks the leaf out of her hair, smiling shyly at her while avoiding anyone else's gaze. There, that ought to do the trick.
Natasha pretends to notice it for the first time when Steve's fingers hold it up to her. She lets shock, embarrassment, and then amusement play out over her face before she grabs his wrist to push his hand down and looks around like she hopes no one noticed. Of course a few people have, and she lets herself blush and turns her face into his shoulder before dragging him to the bar.
"That was great," she says, leaned in close and looking like she's needing him to reassure her that she didn't just make a total ass of herself. "Nothing more perfectly stereotypical than plowing your drunk trophy wife at a fundraiser."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
She's not sure if he realizes that she's using him to show herself off. There's a fluid quality to the fabric of her dress. It ripples like there's a current in it, a swelling tide. It's what helps to camouflage the fact that she's surprisingly heavily armed. It has other uses, though. She's not one for swaying, but he doesn't have to do much. She can use him like a prop, as long as it's something she can fold into the cover. Not all men can dance. SOme are absolutely hopeless, so why not this fake woman's fake husband?
He does look pretty happy, though. She wonders how long it's been since he went dancing. Then, on the heels of that, she wonders what he'd make of dancing today. The idea makes her chuckle.
no subject
He's not a terrible dancer by any means, but it's obvious he doesn't know any proper steps, and he seems to have a tendency to sway more so than dance. She keeps up, though, sometimes taking the lead and change the steps a bit.
Her chuckle draws him out of an odd thought or another, and he lifts an eyebrow at her. "What's so funny?"
no subject
no subject
"Is that one of those modern dancing clubs people go to these days?"
no subject
no subject
no subject
The song ends, the light applause begins, and Natasha turns to join. The next song is much more sedate. "You're more of a sway-er, aren't you?" She holds out her arms in an obliging manner. They can sway for a little while. Not much to do in the way of showcasing assets, but Steve does seem to be enjoying himself, and they've got the time.
no subject
Matching everyone else, he applauds once the song is over, turning back to her when the next one begins. Maybe it's indulging a little, and maybe he shouldn't be enjoying himself while working, but there's no harm in just... one more dance. "I've never learned any proper dance steps," he admits, stepping closer and placing one arm around her, then the other when he sees the other couples doing the same. "But I like dancing. Swaying especially, yes."
no subject
She's got her own lines to reel in. It's a throwaway comment, back over her shoulder when she's a few steps away from him. "Oh, and don't be surprised if he's got the same idea that you did earlier. You know, about getting you out of your clothes." Hopefully Steve is tipsy enough to just roll with this.
no subject
Smoothing his clothes as he squares his shoulders, he looks over at her as she throws that remark at him. He frowns for a moment, confused, but he's not completely ignorant either. It may take him a few seconds but then it clicks in his head, and then he's struggling not to blush viciously.
Anyway, it's work. It has to be done. Not that he plans on getting on any level of undressing with the guy, but he won't die if he has to be a little more... friendly than he's comfortable with. He starts off across the room, walking casually as if there's no real purpose to it, until he manages to get close enough to his first mark, and he'll try to keep up the same relaxed attitude as he makes his way through his list.
Hopefully not all of them are as prone to flirting.
no subject
She gives him the signal when the room is past the point of useful intoxication, and then begins to feign it herself. He can help her out to the balcony for some air. It's deserted at the moment because of a light drizzle making the brisk evening actually cold. It's a good place to vanish for a bit. Mostly because there's only one way in and out.
Which is perfect, because she's got lots to tell him. Hopefully, he's also got something useful to share.
no subject
"So? Enjoyed the party?" He keeps the question inane enough at first, until he's sure they're out of anyone's ear range.
no subject
no subject
He's hoping she'll be fast and it won't come to that, but you never know.
no subject
She spares one final glance to see if he's blushing again before she shoots out a grappling line and gets herself airbourne. It's a hell of a rush. Kind of literally. Time is against her for a lot of reasons, not the least of which is that a woman scaling the facade of a five star hotel is something that's ridiculously difficult to explain. So it's 90 seconds to zip her way up eight floors.
Fifteen minutes. She can do this. Steve will be fine.
no subject
He keeps his eyes on her for a moment longer, impressed she manages to zip up the eight floors in such a short time. Eventually he looks back out over the city, feigning a sip from his already empty glass, trying to look as inconspicuous as can be as he glances back in at the party. Luckily the Senator's still there, not showing any signs that he plans to leave. Hopefully it'll stay that way.
no subject
Picking up the drives and the phone, she's preparing to leave, and it's in making sure the room doesn't look disturbed that she finds the second case.
Well, she'd be kind of antsy if she had a container of nuclear material, too. Obviously she can't leave it. She tucks the canister down the front of her dress and radios Steve. "Hey. How are we doing? I need to go lateral. Am I clear?"
no subject
Luckily no one does, and eventually it's Natasha's voice that rings clearly in his ear, through the nearly invisible device tucked into his ear. He taps his watch to activate it, looking into the party to make sure no one will hear him, then looks away and speaks up. "You're fine. Not a lot of time, though, so better make it quick," he glances across the city, then adds with a faint smile. "You can always jump, and I'll catch you." He's kidding, don't do that.
no subject
"All right. On my way back. Still clear?"
no subject
"Clear. You should have a minute or two at this point. I think—" he glances inside, hiding a little behind that plant she mentioned earlier. "Our absence is just about to be noticed." They may need an excuse as to why they disappeared for so long.
no subject
He was joking about catching her, she's sure, and she's not jumping with no support, but she is swinging over in line with Steve and then dropping straight down. She'll be fine if he just lets her hit the balcony, but he's in a position to soften her fall.
no subject
"Just dropping by?" He offers with a small smile, raising an eyebrow.
no subject
Back on her feet, she straightens her dress and slips her shoes back on. "We've got a slight hiccup, by the way. We're not leaving this party until he does. Hopefully that'll be soon." Her gear is re-stashed, and she once again looks like a trophy wife wearing the hell out of an evening gown. So it's his watch that she checks. "Little long." Nothing to do about that, though. She runs her fingers through her hair, mussing it very slightly. After a moment's thought, she plucks a leaf off of a potted plant against the wall and tucks it into her hair. "Notice this once we're back inside," she tells him, fingers ruining the careful part in his own hair before smoothing it back into place. "Make sure we're in line of sight of someone when you pull it out of my hair."
no subject
At first he's not quite aware of what she's doing, messing up her hair right after straightening herself out, but he catches on quick, and with a slight fluster that will likely help along with their little farce, he clears his throat and nods. He runs his own hand through his hair, knowing that now it looks like it was messed up and unsuccessfully combed to the side again, then he follows her inside.
Once a couple's eyes are on them, as well as one of those bulky security fellas, he steps closer to her, slowing her down as he plucks the leaf out of her hair, smiling shyly at her while avoiding anyone else's gaze. There, that ought to do the trick.
no subject
"That was great," she says, leaned in close and looking like she's needing him to reassure her that she didn't just make a total ass of herself. "Nothing more perfectly stereotypical than plowing your drunk trophy wife at a fundraiser."
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)