The lights of the club twisted and shimmered like liquid fire, casting waves of color over the sea of bodies moving on the dance floor. Bass thumped hard through the floorboards, vibrating through your heels and into your chest like a second heartbeat. It was loud, it was hot, and it was exactly what you all needed.

After a grueling few weeks of back-to-back missions, you and a handful of the Av3ngers had finally carved out a night for yourselves—no weapons, no world-ending threats, just music, drinks, and the luxury of letting go.

You even managed to drag Nat out. She tried to act reluctant, but you caught the subtle smirk she wore once the beat hit and the first shot went down.

The night unfolded in a blur of laughter, drinks, and dancing. You moved with your team like a unit—but with more rhythm and a little less tactical gear. Still, amid the fun and friendship, there was one very specific game you were playing.

You and James had been toeing the line for months—slow-burning tension dressed up in teasing glances, barely-there touches, and flirtatious barbs. Neither of you had cracked. Not yet.

So tonight… you pushed it.

You wore a dress that clung in all the right places, the fabric hugging your curves and revealing just enough skin to keep him guessing. Your hips swayed more than usual, your laughter a little softer, a little longer. And when you danced—especially the couple of times you did so near him—you felt the heat of his gaze like a hand on your skin.

And oh, he looked.

He watched you all night like a man on the edge, jaw tight, drink untouched, eyes following your every move like you were the only one in the room. But still—neither of you made the first move.

Not yet.

Back at the compound, everyone parted ways, stumbling into their rooms with sleepy grins and buzzed goodnights. You, however, headed to your room with a satisfied smile tugging at your lips. You could feel it—Bucky was close to breaking.

It wasn’t a matter of if. It was a matter of when.

You changed into a short, silky blue nightgown—something comfortable but still pretty. You weren’t exactly expecting anything, but… you weren’t not expecting something either.

And just as you finished adjusting the strap on your shoulder, the door swung open with a click.

You turned sharply—and there he was.

James slipped inside, shutting and locking the door behind him with deliberate calm. His blue eyes swept over you, slow and hot, a storm barely contained behind them.

“Congrats, doll,” he said, voice low and rough, a smirk playing on his lips. “Your little game worked. I couldn’t take my eyes off you all night.”

He started toward you, and you didn’t move. You only smiled, letting the silence stretch between you like a live wire.

“I noticed,” you said casually, your tone soft but laced with challenge.

James stopped right in front of you, close enough that you could feel the heat rolling off him. His eyes locked with yours, intense and unreadable.

“You’re really something, you know that?” he murmured, his voice dropping even lower.

His hands found your hips, fingers pressing into your skin through the soft fabric as he pulled you gently into his chest. You placed your palms on his chest, steadying yourself—but you didn’t push him away.

“I didn’t know that,” you replied, coy.

He huffed a short laugh, shaking his head as he leaned in closer. His metal hand slid slowly up your side, across your arm, and then to the side of your neck—his thumb brushing over your jaw with surprising tenderness. You felt goosebumps rise along your skin as his lips hovered near your ear.

You could feel his breath—warm, teasing—and a shiver chased down your spine.

“Well,” he whispered, voice smooth as sin, “I do now. And you’ve had my attention all night.”

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes again, his hand still cradling your neck, and the smirk on his face had softened—just slightly. There was heat, yes, but something deeper flickered there too.

This wasn’t just a game anymore.

It never had been.