Romanogers - Oneshots

just for tonight

The clink of glasses, the miasma of alcohol, everything about this bar is familiar to Steve, and yet different. Wind rushes through the temporarily open door as yet another eager customer resigns themselves to an evening they might not remember. Secondhand cigarette smoke glides in on the wings of the gust, its stale acridness diffusing with sour familiarity around the room. The windows - though few - are misty, steamed with the rising heat emanating from bare skin and high spirits. People cluster around round and rectangular tables, in armchairs, near the dartboard or at the bar, the scrape (and occasional smash) of glasses over rough wooden surfaces accompanying omnipresent chatter and raucous laughter, along with the sharp smell of spirits that at first wrinkles the nose.

Of course, every place has its individualities. The music here is not deafening, but heady and light at the same time. Retro posters and adverts from an era you might call 'vintage' are tacked randomly onto posts. Pleasant.

And the girl.

He'd watched her come in around five minutes ago, pausing to tease a dark jacket from her shoulders before strolling over to the bar and sitting dignified and straight backed, like a pole up her spine, on a bar stool, pale fingers tapping a rhythm in time to the beat. Striking red hair falls straight to her shoulders, a shade that Steve simply can't tear his eyes away from. He didn't come here with that in mind, but would it really be so bad to have some company tonight?

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Natasha glances around the bar, eyes sliding lazily over her surroundings as much as she can without turning noticeably. She hasn't ordered anything yet, instead preferring to just observe the various knots of people, secretly fancying herself quite the anthropologist. A smirk plays on her lips, an almost laugh. At what she's not sure, but it's nice to feel confident.

The range of liquors looms in front of her, gins and whiskeys and wines all in their coloured bottles, from orange to blue, green to black, with additional jets posted along the counter top, golden froth still beaded on the nozzle, just begging to be 'sampled', like sweets jumping eagerly out of a jar. A Pick&Mix for adults, she thinks with mirth.

She can feel the eyes on her back, and finally finds their owner, still without letting him know of her curiosity. A tall man, well built and nonchalant in an armchair, blonde-haired and muscled. Her smile grows wider.

Finally, she makes her order.
"Straight tequila. You," The bartender pauses to slosh the clear liquid into a shot glass. "are gonna be sorry in the morning."
"I'm always sorry in the morning." She throws it back, barely wincing at the bitterness. "But keep 'em coming." The bartender chuckles, refilling as per request.

Tonight she wants to feel free, get out of her body, out of her mind and go somewhere, do anything, though hopefully not illegal. She wants her head to fill with clouds and cotton wool and...
She glances back to the blonde in the armchair, who is still eyeing her.
...if she's lucky, maybe feel a stranger's arms around her.

Predictably, he rises from his seat at that moment and strolls over, hands in pockets as he takes the seat beside her.

Steve blinks, and quickly swallows the lust in his throat. She's even more beautiful in person, red hair framing green eyes that glint, somehow knowingly, in the light as her eyes take in the bold stranger before her. And not only beautiful in that fair, well-proportioned, superficial way. Beautiful in how the air seems to crackle around her with electricity. In the way her smirk spells confidence and how she just knows how good she is at this game.

"Hey." He turns momentarily to the barman before focusing back on her. "Double scotch, single malt please." The drink is in his hand in seconds.
"So," He addresses her, and she turns her head amusedly, hair falling across a smirk. She knew he'd come. And that reels him in even more. "is this a good place to hang out?" A sip of the golden-brown liquid slides down his throat as her glass is again refilled.