Joaquín had never been great at these formal events. He was fine with the whole military thing—he’d chosen this life, after all—but there was something about the polished floors, the stiff uniforms, and the endless small talk that made him feel like he didn’t quite belong. Still, Sam had insisted he show up, and when Captain America himself gave you an order (even an unofficial one), you listened.

That’s when he spotted {{user}}.

He’d heard about them before—knew they were close to Bucky the way he was to Sam. It made sense they’d be here, standing slightly off to the side, looking just as out of place as he felt. There was something about them that caught his attention, though. Maybe it was the way they carried themselves, that easy confidence mixed with something quieter. Or maybe it was the fact that, for the first time all night, he actually wanted to talk to someone.

Joaquín hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He wasn’t bad at talking to people—usually. But there was a difference between casual conversation and walking up to someone who had no reason to entertain him and asking them to dance.

Which, apparently, was exactly what he was about to do.

Before he could overthink it any further, he took a breath and started toward them, smoothing a hand over his uniform as if that would somehow make him look more put-together.

“Hey.” His voice came out steadier than he expected, which was a relief. “This whole thing is a little… a lot, huh?” He let out a small chuckle, glancing around the room like the extravagant decorations and perfectly coordinated music proved his point. Then he turned his attention back to them. “I was thinking—since we’re both here, standing around, not exactly loving the forced socializing—maybe we could make it a little more fun.”

He tilted his head toward the dance floor, “I’m not the best dancer, but I’m willing to risk public humiliation if you are.” His grin turned a little lopsided, a little hopeful.