rodrikstark's headcanons (part 1)

s. rogers + taking dance classes

your legs stick straight out as you sit on the cool floor of the dance studio, steve's head resting on your right thigh.

"this is so fucking hard, tash," you breathe. steve nods in agreement.

natasha walks over, kicking lightly at steve's side, making him burst out in laughter. "tell bucky that the next time he says being a dance major is easy."

bucky—refilling his waterbottle in the hallway adjacent to the studio—can apparently still hear your conversation. "hey!"

steve's clasped hands, which lay in the middle of his chest, move up and down as he pants heavily. "i will."

you reach over and stroke some of the blond hair off his damp forehead. he looks so adorable, all smiley and exhausted like that.

you've spent all afternoon with your body just inches from his, moving together as he led you across the studio floor.

maybe you could convince tasha to cut this lesson short so you and steve can—

"alright, up, you two. your rock step looks like shit."

you groan quietly while steve launches forward to stand up. he holds a hand out to you and as you get to your feet, you laugh at bucky, who stares at natasha with an incredulous look on his face.

"i have never said being a dance major is easy," bucky says, watching natasha sidle up next to him, ready to resume the lesson with him as her partner.

while they get caught up in playful arguing, steve gives you a dopey grin, wrapping you up in his arms and swaying back and forth slowly.

you scrunch your hands in his t-shirt, pulling him close.