"It was not the passion that was new to her, it was the yearning adoration. She knew she had always feared it, for it left her helpless; she feared it still, lest if she adored him too much, then she would lose herself, become effaced, and she did not want to be effaced, a slave, like a savage woman. She must not become a slave. She feared her adoration, yet she would not at once fight against it."
― D.H. Lawrence

The melodic symphony chimed around the room, a menagerie of people adorned the magnificent ball room, a sea of varying coloured silk and satin gowns interspersed with black and white tuxedos. Steve and Natasha entered via the grand gilded doors arm in arm, both looking impeccable, and unbeknownst to other guests attending, immersed in the mission and their cover; a couple. Natasha donned a red silk gown that cut low at the front displaying her ample bosom and deliciously creamy skin, luring you towards her slim waist that was enhanced by the presence of a thin black belt. The silk then fell from her waist cascading over the luscious curvature of her hips before falling to the floor. To the disappointment of Steve, her hair no longer donned its deep scarlet shade, but was now a dark chocolate colour swept up into an elegant up-do pulling your attention towards the dress and the sinewy buxom figure that wore it so well. Steve's hair exhibited its usual polished style, and he wore, as the majority of the men did, a tuxedo that highlighted his muscular broad shoulders and small waist. In conclusion; they were an attractive couple, and that's how they wanted to appear.

Gracefully they descended the stairs joining the invariable hum and swirl of fellow guests, and made their way towards the bar. Reaching the bar Steve went to place his hand on the small of Natasha's back, but refrained letting his hand hover until Natasha herself reached her hand behind and pulled his hand to its intended location. This mission had been a struggle for both, an area of unchartered territory for them to occupy, as they awkwardly exchanged behaviours and touches that an actual couple would exhibit naturally and effortlessly. Natasha had become increasingly exacerbated at her own incompetence, this was her field what she was trained to do, and here she was too stiff, rigid and stand-offish unable to simulate the simplest role of a besotted girlfriend. Natasha had mentally beaten herself up throughout this mission, and feigned indifference to the reason for her failed performance, but she knew why, however the reason terrified her and she wasn't ready to confront that yet. On the other hand Steve's lack of experience in the field of women had meant that he had no personal reference to employ, he spent the majority of the time fearing that he had done the wrong thing or that Natasha would feel uncomfortable. This had prompted Natasha to be violently abrupt with him, grabbing his hands putting them where they should be, it had all been a learning curve but now he had started to feel the underlying beginnings of failure as Natasha, out of her role as his girlfriend, had become more and more distant. Within the complexities and pressures of this mission he had identified that there was only one concern for him; the fear that Natasha was starting to despise his companionship. Whenever she pulled him into her side, manipulating his body into the appearance of a beloved boyfriend, he felt his heart sink low in his chest as he knew he had failed her, this was her specialty and he was failing spectacularly at it bringing her performance down with it. He didn't know how many more agitated frowns; pursed straight lips; and despondent silences he could take from Natasha. It was starting to hurt. A lot.

Natasha perched herself elegantly on the bar stool, as she did so she discreetly tugged on the edge of Steve's tuxedo jacket bringing him closer to her, it had become hard for Steve to cater to the distance she had implemented between her and him, and the closeness she desired when they were undercover,

"What would you like?" Steve asked gently, a soft smile gracing his lips, she smiled back at him, placing her hand hesitantly on top of the hand he had resting on the bar, before withdrawing it far too quickly,

"A white wine for me darling." She replied her voice like rich thick velvet, however her smile that accompanied it dropped slightly as she turned away from him to address her attention to the room.

After consuming a few drinks, and regaling various strangers with fictional stories of their fictional lives, Natasha decided that she needed to observe the room further, excusing herself from her current conversation she made her way over to Steve,

"Darling, how about a dance, you know how I love to dance." She chuckled, however the expression of delight failed to reach her eyes, as if she was holding something back, causing her delivery to seem disjointed. Steve was obviously not an actor, his face expressed fear and shock at, one the prospect of having to dance in front of lots of people, and two the fact that a lady had asked him to dance, he had failed to live up to the standards he had set himself, to always be a gentleman. Reaching out she grabbed his hand, and pulled him after her, a bit too aggressively to seem like a woman eager to dance with the man she loved, but no one noticed. Entering the dance floor Steve stood still in front of her, momentarily paralysed as he tried to fathom and remember how to dance, until he felt Natasha seize his hand in hers and place his other hand on her waist. They swayed slowly however they seemed to move independently of one another, neither in time with the other and both seemed to struggle to hold each other's gaze. More than once Steve stood on Natasha's toes or dress however she seemed unfazed, and despite a few eye rolls she kept her composure, in comparison to Steve who hushed apologies in her ear and winced in sympathy whenever he trod on her toes. After a while Natasha identified her target, her face lighting up at the prospect of now having a task that involved her being out of the close proximity of Steve, pulling out of his arms she looked up at him, her hand resting hesitantly on his chest,

"Excuse me sweetheart, I just need to freshen up, I'll meet you by the bar." Leaning forward she gave him a swift peck on the cheek, too quick, however it was enough to bring a rosy shade to Steve's cheeks as he opened his mouth to reply, but failed to voice his response. It was too late however as she turned and made her way swiftly through the crowd. Losing her from sight, he turned and took a deep sigh; this was getting harder to endure.

Waiting at the bar with two drinks in front of him he felt a very soft touch to his shoulder, turning he saw it was Natasha, she spied the drink he had brought for her,

"Aww you shouldn't have." She drawled he picked up the drink to hand it to her; however as if on cue his body seemed to revert back to the pre-serum Steve of old as he stumbled over his own feet allowing the wine to tumble from the glass and pour over the front of Natasha. The wine flowed down the enticing expanse of her cleavage, and down the rich crimson silk staining it with a dark violent smear. Steve froze, his lips forming an 'o', his eyes wide in fear and his eyebrows raised as he observed the damage he had done. His body tensed in preparation of Natasha's wrath, looking up at her saw the heat of anger spread across her features, but she extinguished them almost immediately, and despite the fire he saw blazing in her eyes she calmly stated,

"I think that's the cue to leave, don't you dear?" He let out a breath he didn't even realise he was holding allowing his shoulders to relax,

"I agree." He replied as they quickly made their way towards the doors and left the glamour and glitz of the party behind them, and the appalling mess they had made of being a 'couple'.

On their walk back to their room Natasha walked rapidly in front of him, not uttering a word or even a glance in his direction. She waited patiently outside their door, as he possessed the key, for him to unlock their door before walking in forcefully. Steve followed her in timidly, only a few steps into the room he pulled the door closed and stood looking down at his feet before whispering,

"I'm so sorry." He heard her steps come towards him and stop in front of him, causing him to force his gaze up to meet hers,

"What is wrong with you? I have done this for years I am perfectly capable, however this has been the worst undercover job I have ever undertaken." Her voice was hushed, despite her knowledge that the room was not bugged, but it was forceful, full of thick toxic venom and it hurt. Steve winced before replying firmly,

"Look this maybe your expertise but it's not mine, okay? Shout at Fury not me, he set us on this mission, he knows my strengths and this isn't one of them. Did you find our target?" A frown now adorned her frown line, causing her face to look even darker in the low light, her face contorting into frustration,

"Yes I did find our target. Thank god everyone is so wound up in themselves or so drunk they can barely see, because I can tell you you're not getting awarded the best actor for tonight. Honestly I don't understand Fury's choice either; you can't even interact with a woman let alone pretend to love one..." Her arms and hands now flailed as she expressed her aggravation, her fingers curling and clawing at the air around her. Steve interrupted her raising his hand up to halt her before stepping forward bringing himself closer to her,

"ME? Did you see you? I mean I haven't watched a lot of films but I know a good actress when I see one and tonight you were certainly lacking any... conviction! And don't you dare tell me I don't know how to love a woman, I may not be able to express myself but I know..." Natasha and Steve's chests were now heaving in response to the exertion of their anger and frustrations that had built up in the last few days, they were now very close and both could feel each other's breathes brushing against their faces, their gazes now bore into each other. Through gritted teeth Natasha interrupted Steve, she didn't know whether it was the few drinks she had consumed; the close proximity of Steve; or the passionate rage that had now consumed her body, she whispered, her voice laced heavily with lust,

"Prove it." At that Steve lunged towards her his lips devouring hers, his hands gripping at her waist, clawing the silky material and pushing her further into the room. Natasha's hands, that had taken a while to respond due to shock, grabbed onto the lapels of his jacket pulling him forward closer to her, wanting to feel his body against hers. Both allowed their desires, needs and emotions that had developed for so long to overcome them, allowing them to devour and indulge in the presence and feel of the other, both extracted delicious moans and groans from each other's lips. Moving from her lips Steve paid special attention to the delicate expanse of her neck, kissing her pulse point and revelling in the response he coaxed from her body, as her hands had now roamed underneath his tuxedo jacket pawing at his back, her nails scraping along the contours of his back. He continued along her shoulder, before embellishing her collar bone with his searing lips, causing her skin to tingle and burn in satisfaction. She grabbed hold of the waist of his trousers pulling him closer, colliding their hips together and rolling hers against him, causing a gasp to interrupt his assault on her soft skin, this coerced a smirk of victory to adorn Natasha's face, until Steve continued with his task causing her eyes to close and her features to relax in the delirium of his touch. His hands now brushed her shoulders, and played with the straps of her gown before she brought her hand up to push one off her shoulder, wordlessly giving him permission, as his other hand pushed the remaining strap off. His trail of kisses had now found a new course, and was delving down her body heading towards the enticing curvature of her cleavage; she let an embarrassingly loud gasp escape which provoked a soft chuckle from Steve before he continued his task. Natasha's hands now pulled at the black belt that adorned her waist, pulling it off, the silk gown slipped seamlessly from her upper body revealing her bare breasts and the delightful expanse of alabaster skin, which Steve indulged in. Deciding that Steve was far too clothed for her liking she cupped his face in her hands, pulling him up from her chest and pulling his lips to hers, their tongues fighting for dominance and occasionally skating along each other's lips. Now she had his attention, she pushed his jacket from his shoulders allowing it to slump to the floor before her hands quickly set to work on his bow tie, pulling it from around his neck and flinging it violently to the floor. She started to undo the buttons of his shirt however desire and impatience got the best of her and after the first few were undone she grabbed hold of either side and pulled them apart causing a sharp ripping sound to pierce the lavish hum of heated longing that permeated the room. Steve paused dragging his lips away from hers, before making eye contact with her and whining,

"Aww, I really liked this shirt." A smirk crept across her features in amusement before she chuckled,

"Oh shut up, I'll get you a new one." He smiled back at her his eyes sparkling with amour and lust, before he slipped the remnants of the shirt off and returned his attention to her lips. Alarmingly this was the first time this evening they were acting like a couple, however they weren't even trying and truth be told neither were acting under the role of an alias, they were themselves. Their bodies moved in perfect synergy, their movements were smooth and adoring as if they had been choreographed by the hands of affection. It seemed that the awkward movements and stifled words from earlier in the evening had been caused by their own subdued feelings for each other. Their argument had unleashed a source of passion, one that had triggered their guards to release and their self-awareness to deplete allowing the freedom to express how they really felt in a way words could not. Neither could or would admit it out loud, but both felt the disturbing presence and heavy weight against their chests, the unmistakable presence of love.