Who: Steve and Peggy What: Mortification 101 Where: Steve's hotel room When: Immediately post-elevator with Tony Warnings: Clear and incontrovertible proof that Natasha has been lying this whole time about Steve's nether regions.
The moment Steve got back to his hotel room, he locked the door behind him and strode straight into the bathroom, where he twisted the shower's knob on with perhaps more force than was strictly necessary. He'd never been so thankful for privacy, away from prying eyes and - and pressing bodies, and the possibility that his own body was going to betray him in a most humiliating fashion. He wasn't even sure if it would be better at this point to douse himself in icy water in the hopes of willing his current predicament away, or if it would be better to grant himself a nice, long, hot shower and give himself some time to take care of his problem the more pleasurable way.
Because oh, there was a problem, and it was growing more insistent with every passing second.
The spandex pants were easy enough to shove down, though they did get distressingly tangled near his ankles, and in trying to get untangled Steve came perilously close to falling flat on his face. A broken nose would not be the ideal way to cap off this evening.
Finally divested of the spandex and now wearing literally nothing that wasn't painted on, Steve caught sight of himself in the bathroom's mirror, which spanned the length of the wall. He was more than flushed now, his cheeks red, his forehead and chest dewy with sweat. Even Steve could tell there was something off about his eyes, which were glazed and nearly all pupil. He was drunk, he had to be.
His gaze traveled lower, down to where a certain situation was still, uh, firming up, and all at once he was sure he wouldn't be able to stand an ice-cold shower. Hot water it was, and he reached into the shower to make the switch, just as he heard a knock at the door. Three sharp raps, and then silence. Steve froze, paralyzed with indecision. He could simply get into the shower and pretend he hadn't heard, but what if something was wrong? There was always that risk, this was a Capitol event, and even if Steve wasn't precisely in his right mind, he wasn't so far gone as to have forgotten that. If something was wrong, if someone got hurt all because he'd ignored a knock, he'd never forgive himself.
Muttering some choice words under his breath, Steve left the water running and grabbed a towel, wrapping it haphazardly around his waist, hissing as it came into contact with very sensitive skin. He was a mess, completely unfit for company, but hopefully it would just be Clint, coming to check in on him before he headed to bed. Another knock sounded as Steve approached the door, though the person on the other side only managed two before Steve flipped the lock and pulled the door open.
There was Peggy, still as stunning now as she'd been when they'd begun the evening, and the words that Steve had intended to say - hello, maybe, or what do you want - fell out of his mouth in a garbled, choked rush. "Peggy," he managed, gaze raking over her to make sure she was okay, which she seemed to be. And then his eyes followed that path a second time, more slowly than the first.
"Peggy," he said again, voice lower and rougher, a bit dazed, even. "Hi."