The dining hall has thinned out, the soft hum of conversation replaced by clinking glasses and low music drifting from somewhere deeper in the ship. The lights feel warmer now, a little softer—like the whole place is winding down.

You, however… are not.

That 24-ounce drink had gone down slowly over dinner—sweet, harmless, deceptively light—and now it’s settled in just enough to make everything feel a little brighter, a little funnier, a little floaty.

Steve notices immediately.

Not in a worried way—just… attentive. Always attentive.

“You okay?” he asks quietly, one hand steady at your waist as you stand from the table.

You beam at him.

Not just a smile—a full, glowing, unfiltered beam, like he’s the best thing you’ve ever seen.

“I’m great,” you say, words just slightly softer around the edges. “Hi.”

Steve blinks, caught off guard for half a second, then huffs a quiet laugh. “Hi,” he echoes, voice gentler now.

Across the table, Tony watches with open delight. “Oh, this is excellent. Rogers, your girl’s had exactly one drink too many.”

“It was one drink,” Steve replies, already guiding you carefully away from the table, arm firm around you as you lean just a little more into him than usual.

“Uh-huh,” Sam chimes in, grinning. “And it was basically a bucket.”

You ignore them completely.

Because Steve is right there, and suddenly that feels like the only thing that matters.

You turn toward him mid-step, reaching up—intending, very clearly, to kiss him.

Steve sees it coming.

He leans down instinctively—

—and you miss.

Completely.

Your lips land squarely on his chin.

There’s a beat.

A very quiet, very still beat.

Steve freezes, eyes going a little wide, clearly trying to process what just happened.

Behind you, Tony absolutely loses it. “Oh my god—she missed!”

Sam is laughing so hard he has to grab the back of a chair. “Cap, you’ve been demoted! She said ‘close enough’!”

Steve exhales through his nose, fighting a smile, his ears already turning pink. “Alright, that’s enough,” he mutters, though there’s no real bite to it.

You, meanwhile, are still smiling up at him like nothing in the world could possibly be wrong.

“Did I get you?” you ask, completely sincere.

Steve’s expression softens instantly.

“Yeah,” he says, voice warm, one hand coming up to gently cup your cheek. “You got me.”

That seems to satisfy you completely.

“Good,” you murmur, like that was very important.

Your balance shifts a little as you step closer again, and Steve reacts immediately, arm tightening around you, steadying.

“Okay,” he says softly, more to himself now. “Let’s sit down for a minute.”

He guides you toward a nearby lounge area just outside the dining hall, quieter, dimmer. You don’t resist—in fact, you lean into him more, practically molded to his side.

When he sits, he gently pulls you with him, one arm secure around your back as he helps settle you onto his lap.

Careful. Respectful.

Like you’re something fragile.

You adjust without hesitation, arms loosely draping around his shoulders, completely content, completely at ease.

And then you look at him.

Really look at him.

Your smile spreads again, softer this time but somehow even brighter, eyes a little glassy but full of something unmistakable.

Steve stills under it.

“…What?” he asks quietly.

You shake your head, just a little, like you don’t even have the words.

Instead, your hand comes up, clumsy but gentle, brushing along his jaw.

“‘s you,” you mumble, like that explains everything.

Steve’s breath catches—just slightly.

“Yeah,” he replies, softer now. “It’s me.”

You nod, satisfied, then lean forward again—more carefully this time.

You almost miss again.

But Steve adjusts at the last second, meeting you halfway, letting your lips land properly this time.

It’s soft. A little uncoordinated. Warm.

When you pull back, you’re smiling again—wide, certain, completely unguarded.

Like you’ve already decided something important.