Steve and Natasha
If Clint, Scott, Tony and maybe Wanda were all people Steve thought it best to avoid approaching in the middle of this party Natasha was one of the few people he actually wanted to speak to. Well, maybe it wasn't "want" so much as "need," because ever since his conversation with Bucky, there'd been guilt eating away at Steve, a constant reminder that his behavior toward Natasha over the past few years was, at best, unacceptable; at worst, it was cruelly judgmental and hypocritical. He couldn't make one allowance for Bucky and then hold the other Victors to a different standard, and once that thought had occurred to him, Steve couldn't help but think back on all of the times he'd spoken to Natasha - his responses, which had been rude and clipped - and the uncharitable thoughts he'd been harboring toward her, for representing the very worst of Capitol society.
He didn't have to agree with her choices, but he didn't have the right to judge her like he'd been doing.
Peggy had stepped away to talk to an acquaintance for a moment, and as Steve had turned to pick up another of those citrus-based drinks, his gaze had caught on a flash of red and black through the crowd, and there was Natasha, managing to stand out no matter where she was. Steve kept his eyes on her as he took a large gulp of his drink - it had gotten hot in here, when exactly had that happened? - and then began making his way toward her.
"Natasha," he said, to get her attention, and as soon as he had it, he added again, "Natasha - I owe you an apology." It was awkward, far too blunt and earnest for this atmosphere, but that really was Steve all over.