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French Connection (Steve Rogers x OFC)

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Steve Rogers sat in the Avengers Tower kitchen, reading the New York Times, when she walked into the room.   They were no more than friends, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t find her incredibly attractive. He’d been smitten since the moment she’d come to work with the team.

She flashed him a crooked smile, raising a brow his way, and said something that made him turn sharply towards her, questioning his hearing.  You’re getting old Steve, maybe your brain got a little freezer burned in the ice.

Seeking confirmation of what he’d heard - or had not heard - he asked, “Excuse me, but what did you say?”

She had just reached the fridge and bent forward to get something from the bottom drawer, giving him one hell of a rear view.  She repeated what she’d said earlier. “Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?”

He had to be dreaming.  Was she seriously asking him that!?  Quickly, he stood up, the newspaper long forgotten, and began walking towards the counter that separated them, just as she closed the fridge and twisted off the cap on her coconut water.

“You know, I, um, I do speak French.  Do you know what you just said?” He asked her, fishing around to see if she understood and was serious.

She smiled at him, swiveling her body seductively and licking her lips as she nodded her head and repeated, “Voulez-vous coucher avec moi?”

Wow.  He knew modern women were a lot more forward than their 1940’s counterparts, but just waltzing into the kitchen and asking him to sleep with her tonight?  That was a whole new level of bold. He was shocked, and he loved it. Sure did take a lot of pressure off a guy.

Mustering as much swagger as he could, he rapped his knuckles upon the counter top and then leaned against it, giving her - what he hoped- was a sexy smile to show he could be game.   “Tonight?” he asked her in a smooth voice with an edge of cockiness to it. After all, it was her chasing him .

“Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?” she replied, her neck and shoulders doing a little dance.

“Okay, then.  Tonight it is,” he confirmed, pleased with himself for not being the shy, old fashioned man everyone always expected him to be.

“What did you say, Steve?” she asked, her body now still and a questioning look upon her face.

Floundering a bit, he replied, “I said, uh, tonight would be perfect.  Where did you want to meet?”

Puzzled, she asked, “Meet? For what?”

“For…. well, you know,” he said, with a little less confidence now.  He brought a hand up to rub at the back of his neck, as the other waved about as if trying to grab letters to form words.  “For that, that, that thing you asked when you came in here.”

Suddenly, she reached up and brushed her hair back behind her ear, exposing a black, wireless earbud.  She pulled it out and Steve realized she had been listening to music this entire time. With her hair being down, he hadn’t noticed they were in place.

She paused for a moment and then realization kicked in.  In utter amazement, she exclaimed, “WAIT A MINUTE! Oh. My. God.  Did you think I just asked you to go to bed with me tonight, Steve?”

Steve floundered, unable to figure out if he wanted to run away, or sink into a hole in the floor.  “Well, yeah, I mean, I guess -”

She smiled at him, remembering that he likely had never heard of Patti LaBelle or the Moulin Rouge soundtrack. “It’s a song. Lady Marmalade. What I was singing was the chorus from it.”

Steve’s face quickly turned a shade of bright red as he grew flustered.  “Oh! Wow, that’s…. some highly suggestive lyrics. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to modern radio.”

She bit her tongue, suppressing the urge to inform him just how old that song was. Then, realization hit her.

Holding up her hand, she pointed at him and said, “You thought I was asking you to go to bed with me, and instead of rejecting the idea, you responded to it.”  She twisted the cap back onto her bottle and stood for a second, looking at him with a sexy smirk. “Good to know the option is open, Rogers. Maybe I’ll see you later after all.”

As he stood there, frozen in place from mortification, she gave him a wink and started to walk with a sway of her hips towards the doorway.  He broke out of his daze just before she reached the exit.

“Wait, do you mean ‘see you later’ as in you’ll see me around, or ‘see you later’ as in getting together?”  Now that the idea was in his head, there was no erasing it. It was worth taking a chance.

She blew him a kiss over her shoulder and said, “We’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?”