The dressing room doors opened briefly, only to admit a rather flustered Natasha Romanoff, then were pulled abruptly closed again. A little off-balance from being hustled out of the VIP audience to backstage, Natasha straightened her skirt and sweater, then caught sight of her intended in front of the mirror, still gleaming under the bright lights.

He was currently wiping off with a towel, no doubt sweaty and exhausted from the performance, but without a word, Natasha crossed the room, took the cloth from his hands and proceeded to finish the chore, although her strokes lingered a little too long, and more often than not it was her fingers stroking over sweaty skin.

"...you sang our song," she finally said, not lifting her gaze from her perusal of his torso. "I loved it." Now she did look up, and there was a heat in her eyes not seen before. "...and the rest of the show, too."