𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛𝚌𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝙾𝚋𝚜𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚘𝚗 - 𝓑𝓾𝓬𝓴𝔂 𝓑𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓼 [1]

6. {Dress the Part}

The grand ballroom envelops you in its opulence as you glide toward one of the bars nestled along the hall. Draped in an exquisite ensemble, your dress flowing elegantly, trailing behind you in comparison to the one you sported just the evening prior. With a sweep of your gaze, you canvass the room, seeking out your team and their strategic positions.

In an instant, your eyes lock onto your work partner, Steve. His commanding presence stands out amidst the sea of guests, clad in a sleek black tuxedo that mirrors the sophistication of your attire. Both of you seamlessly blend into the crowd, playing the role of sophisticated attendees. But beneath the veneer of the grand ballroom lies the true purpose of the night-a covert auction hidden within the depths of the mansion's cellar rooms.

As Steve mingles with the crowd, his eyes lock onto yours with a glint of recognition. A grin tugs at the corners of his lips, mirrored by your own as you deftly snatch a passing champagne flute from a waiter's tray. With a subtle lift of your glass in Steve's direction, he responds with a gentle shake of his head, the warmth in his expression undiminished.

"Should you really be indulging on the job, Y/N?" Sam Wilson's playful yet chiding tone crackles through the comms, prompting you to glance over to his position near one of the garden exits. His imposing figure stands sentinel, undercover as security alongside Barnes, though the latter is still elusive to your sight.

"Hmm, looks like you're the only one here dressed for duty tonight, Wilson," you tease, a smirk playing on your lips as you take a sip of your drink, maintaining eye contact with him.

Sam chuckles softly, his eyes scanning the room with a practiced vigilance. "Someone's gotta keep an eye on things while you two play dress-up," he retorts, his tone light but with a hint of underlying seriousness.

You raise an eyebrow in mock indignation, though the twinkle in your eyes betrays the facade. "Touché, Wilson," you concede with a playful grin, acknowledging his point even as you maintain the facade of nonchalance.

"I can assure you, Wilson, both Y/N and I are on the clock too," Steve interjects, drawing both your attention as he gracefully extricates himself from the previous conversation with the other guests, claiming a moment's respite.

"Exactly," you affirm, punctuating your statement with another sip from your flute before directing your gaze back to Sam. "If I'm playing the role of a guest tonight, might as well commit to the part, right?"

In the midst of your banter, Maria's voice crackles through the earpiece, her tone crisp and professional. "Keep the chatter to a minimum, agents. Remember, we're here on a mission, not a social call." She concludes her directive from her secluded back room, where she's stationed to provide additional surveillance for you and the team as needed throughout the evening.

You offer a wry smile in response, acknowledging Maria's reminder. Despite the allure of the glamorous surroundings, you know that the stakes of tonight's operation are too high for distractions.

"Speaking of said mission, any idea when they're herding the guests downstairs for the main event?" You query, your tone casual as you delve into your purse's contents, fingers skimming over its interior in search of your entry ticket for the event you were gifted with earlier this evening.

"Security's gearing up for the lower levels now. I'd say we've got about fifteen minutes, tops," a stern voice interjects over the comms, its gravity underscoring the imminent task at hand.

You pause, a frown creasing your brow as you scan the room, searching in vain for the source of the voice. Your frustration mounts at the realization that you can't locate Bucky, Sam's counterpart for the evening's security facade.