I'll Never Let You Fall (Book 3)

Chapter Four

"Steve, the science bros have been in the lab for 3 days now. Are you sure they're okay?" I asked as we walked by the lab.

"They're fine, they'll be out by this evening," he assured me, "speaking which we should go get ready for the party."

"Let's."

                 * * * *

The party was in full swing. I had somehow managed to lose Steve, but then again with as many people were in the room, it wasn't hard to lose anyone. I continued mingling with others, still keeping an eye out for Steve.

"Boo," Clint whispered in my ear, nearly causing me to scream.

"Clinton Barton," I scolded, as I turned to him.

"Sorry, not sorry," he shrugged. I shook my head at his childishness.

"I take it you're feeling better," I assumed smiling at my old partner in spies.

"Fit as a fiddle, strong as an ox," Clint joked, flexing his biceps. I rolled my eyes in response.

"Well, I'm glad," I beamed, "you can't go dying on us now," I placed my hand on his shoulder, squeezing.

"It's going to take a whole lot more than a shot wound to bring me down," he took a sip of his drink.

"How are they," I asked, not even saying any names.

"Good, the little ones miss you and Nat," he smiled, as did I.

"Well, I guess I'll have to pay them a visit," I smiled, catching a glimpse of Steve across the room.

"Go on, before you have an aneurism," Clint nodded.

"What," I asked turning my attention back to him.

"Seriously," he laughed, "go hang with Steve, you're obviously bored of me."

"Clint, I could-"

"Cas, I was joking, now run along," he pushed me in Steve's direction. I stumbled, recovering before slipping under Steven's arm and wrapping my arms around his waist. He smiled down at me, leaning in and kissing my forehead. Thor took my drink pouring a gracious amount of Grunhel's mead in it , and proceeded to do the same to Steve's cup.

"I gotta have some of that," an old man, by the name of Stan, said.

"Trust me you do not want this," I argued sipping at the drink.

"See this, was aged 1,000 years in the barrels built from the wreck of Gruhel's fleet. It is not meant for mortal men," Thor dramatically warned.

"Then why did he give me some," Steve whispered to me.

"The gods didn't take into account a super soldier who can consume unusual amounts of alcohol and not even feel slightly tipsy," I whispered back, sipping again.

"Neither was Omaha beach blondie," Stan argued back, causing me to nearly spat my drink everywhere, "stop trying to scare us. Come on," Mr. Lee whined.

"Alright," Thor submitted, dumping the substance into his glass.
* * * *
"What? Just because you're off taking down HYDRA bases and being bad ass, you're automatically to good to talk to me," Sam asked in a teasing voice behind me.

"Sam," I cheered, hugging me close.

"Hello princess," he smiled.