For I have Kissed Thee a Thousand Times
Steve can't get drunk, so he hates it when Tony proposes drinking games after movie night. But he agrees to play, despite how much Clint whines that it isn't fair and Thor demands to be told the next time they will play a game so he can bring Asgardian mead so that even the Captain will be effected.
So he watches as his fellow Avengers down drink after drink, going from zero to staggering in about ten minutes. Natasha is sitting beside him, a sly smile on her face as her slightly glassy gaze floats around the room. She isn't as drunk as the others, but she isn't fully sober either.
"So, Red, truth or dare?" Tony asks, his drink sloshing over the sides of his glass.
"Dare," Natasha responds, sitting up straight and glaring at the man.
"Alright…." Tony strokes his chin, smirk emerging on his face as he glances as Steve, who has been slowly sipping on his drink for the past hour or so. "I dare you to… sit on Capsicles lap for the rest of the game."
While Steve gulps nervously, looking anywhere but at the redhead beside him, she just shrugs, takes a long gulp of her Russian vodka and crawls over his knees. She settles herself down, wiggles a little to get comfortable— which makes the blond man grunt in embarrassment— and leans herself back against his chest. Her sigh makes his heart flutter, because she only sighs when she's relaxed and not as on guard as she usually is. The sight of the great Black Widow relaxing is a rare sight, one Steve only gets to see on nights like these, where she's not full on drunk but buzzed enough not to be on guard at all times.
Eventually, everyone else becomes so hammered that they pass out. Natasha and Steve are the only ones awake, but the redhead's eyes are slightly glazed and, the blond captain notices, she seems to be swaying from side to side. Reaching down, he lifts her off of his lap and to the side, but only for a minute. During that minute where she is sitting on the couch by herself, she whines at how unfair he's being and why won't he just hold her. Not one to deny his secret love anything, he stands and lifts her into his arms. Beaming up at him, she snuggles into his chest and her breath is like dragon's fire on his neck.
"Steve?" Natasha's voice is soft and slurred as he makes his way over the slumped over thunder god and past a snoring Clint to the front of the common room where the elevator is.
But the small redhead doesn't say anything more. She just looks up at him with hazy eyes as he demands that JARVIS take them to her floor where, hopefully, she'll let him put her to sleep.
God knows she'll need it in the morning with the hangover she's going to get.
Once they get to her room, Steve puts her down on her bed and goes to leave. But as he turns around he can feel her tugging on his shirt, so he looks at her with concern in his gaze.
"You okay?" he asks, pulling her fist from his shirt and putting it back in her lap.
"More than okay," she breathes.
And then she's fisting his shirt again, putting wrinkles in the front, and yanking him to her. Natasha's mouth crashes sloppily into his and he can feel her tongue trying to find the entrance to her mouth. Now, this definitely isn't the first time he's kissed the Russian spy, but it most certainly a first for him. Nat doesn't usually drink so much, but tonight seemed to be the night she let loose.
"Nat…" he tries to pull away, "I'm not sure—"
"Come on, Cap," her voice is slightly above a husky rasp at this point and he groans as she pulls him closer and kisses him again. This one has a little more finesse and less tongue, but it makes him shiver all the same. He can't take advantage of her, even though she's the one pulling the strings.
"Nat, you've gotta go to sleep." He gently clenches her hands in his, with just enough strength behind it to let go. He turns, again, to leave, but she whimpers and holds on to the back of his shirt.
"Stay?" Her voice is quiet and sounds almost needy but that can't be right. He's probably just imagining things. Yeah, that's what's going on. He nods and pulls off his T-shirt—he feels more comfortable sleeping without one, anyway—and sighs as Natasha snuggles up against his chest. She traces the contours of his muscles for a few moments and it lulls him into a state of comfort. The redhead is whispering something in Russian, which he still hasn't learned yet, but it soon fades off into soft snoring.
"Goodnight, Nat," he whispers into her hair as he closes his eyes and wraps his arms around her. Steve falls asleep wrapped around his Russian spy with a smile on his face for the first time in a long time.
But he knows there'll be hell to pay in the morning.
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Also, give me ideas for certain types of kisses if you have them. And check out my other Romanogers stories!