Between Entrance and Exit: An Avengers Fanfiction

Chapter 7: Evening Songs

By the end of Wednesday, I was a shell. I hadn't slept well since the weekend. I had nightmares about the astral projections to the point that I would wake up in the middle of the night thinking I was holding the scepter. I was in so much mental pain that I had completely given up on making myself stick to Natasha's nutrition plan. Eating healthy things on a strict schedule was too much to handle, so I resorted to caffeine and sugar highs, to get me through.

The only thing keeping me holding on, keeping me coming back, was the promise of Steve returning Wednesday night. Our date was a happy thought I clung to desperately. I was going dancing.

I boarded the elevator in silence with Tony Stark. My whole body was trembling from working with the scepter for the third day in a row. I was beat, but determined to have a fun night, anyway. I asked Tony if I could use his place to get ready, so I didn't have to go all the way home. Steve was supposed to debrief at Stark Tower anyway, so it would save him a trip to my apartment, too.

"Swing dancing, huh?" Tony said, about halfway up to his penthouse, as if he'd been thinking about it for a while. "Pepper wouldn't go for it. She hates that kind of stuff."

"You would?" I asked suspiciously.

He shrugged. "Not even a little bit. I'm more of a pizza and a concert guy."

"What does Pepper like?"

"She'd prefer we go to some black-tie five-star restaurant and eat a fifteen tiny courses that don't even resemble food and talk shop about Stark Industries."

I cracked a smile despite my headache.

"Steve," he said, shaking his head. "What do you see in the guy? He's like a robot programmed to act like he's got a stick up his butt."

I snorted. "That's hardly fair."

"You know, I think you're blinded by the blue eyes and the six-pack." He said. "And the whole age thing." He shivered dramatically. "What are you, 18?"

"22," I said blushing furiously. I was saved from further humiliation by the elevator doors opening.

"Down the hall to the left. See ya, kid," Tony said. "Good work today."

Tony's guest room was beyond luxurious; the shower had three heads and there were tiles inlaid with what looked like real gold. I started to relax as the water did its best to wash away the mentally and emotionally draining day.

I unpacked my dress, shoes, a hairdryer, curler, and makeup bag and did my best to look the part of someone Steve might take out on a date in the '40s. While I was curling my hair, though, I started to worry I was trying too hard. By the time I was doing my best to wing my eyeliner I was convinced I looked like a complete idiot in my costume. Too late to back out now. I had nothing else to wear besides my oversized t-shirt and leggings.

I began to feel nervous about the whole thing. What if it was awkward instead of fun, to see Steve again, to dance with him. And there was that whole thing about talking about his intentions. Were we going to talk about intentions? What were my intentions?

We agreed to meet between six and seven, depending on how long training and debriefing, respectively, would take. It was close to seven when I forced myself to leave the guest room in this ridiculous outfit. I had an angry swarm of moths in my stomach.

Steve, Natasha, and, to my surprise, a nervous-looking Bruce, were already sitting on Tony's couch, drinks in hand as if they had been waiting for a while. Steve stood when he saw me.

"Sorry," I said. "I didn't mean to make you wait."

"We haven't been here long," Steve said with a genuine smile. "Besides Banner was just catching us up on what you guys have been up to."