[At first, Steve's sitting straight with his back pressed to the chair, hands on his upper thighs because they don't really have anywhere else to go. The silence has him more curious than uncomfortable, because he's used to both loud and quiet situations from battle, from camp, from awkward moments as he tries to figure out how to talk to a nice girl even. The song starts up and his head tilts just slightly to the left as if that'll get him to hear it better. His lips are drawn in a fine line, but when agent Barton moves to the middle of the room, the corners tug up just slightly, and offer a smile before he closes his eyes.

Steve watches, and he watches with full attention because he doesn't want to do otherwise. If he were just being nice, he wouldn't have seen much else than Clint stomping his feet, moving around the floor to the song but he sees more, finds the rhythm in the movements, the wonder in the dance and its nature.

And by the time the song is over, Steve's hunched over, his forearms are pressed to the top of his knees and his expression is in awe. His eyes have something unreadable in them and his head is tilted to the point where he's almost got a shoulder pressed to the side of it but he stops himself, straightens up a little once it ends, once the archer has stopped and is in front of him. Sheepish, he's shaking his head at the comment, eyes still on the other man.]

For what it's worth, I think that was just perfect, flowing dress or not. [Sitting back up fully, he claps a little for the other to convey his appreciation.] Really though, I think that was unlike anything I've ever seen before.

I'm a little jealous, to be honest. [Considering you know, he doesn't know how to dance.]