Though We Fall

Salt littered the brown bar I sat at, pushed away into swirls and stars. I rested my face on my closed fist, smooshing my cheek upwards towards my left eye.

Bucky sat to my left, sipping on some sort of brown liquor. He would occasionally glance at where Steve was, talking to a group of soldiers into joining him in another life-threatening mission. 

He sighed and swirled the dark liquor in the glass, and hung his head. His hand raised and ran over his scruff, and closed his eyes for mere seconds, before turning and looking over at me and my salt pile.

I was in the middle of drawing a star when Bucky blew air on the pile. I froze, my hand hanging mid-air, then dropped it to grab more salt. 

Bucky watched me, “Why do you insist on making a mess everywhere you go?” He copied my stance, holding his drink in his right, then smooshed up his cheek on his left. 

I shrugged my shoulders, “I don’t make a mess everywhere I go, I just happen to lack entertainment today.” 

He rolled his eyes in response and looked away, checking on Steve, “Yeah, kids these days always need entertainment.”

I screwed open the salt shaker, poured a few new piles on the table, then moved my hand above his glass, and dumped some in the liquid.

I moved my hand away, re-screwed the salt, then put it back in its spot. I nudged it, making sure it looked exactly the way it did before I grabbed it; about a centimeter away from the better on its right, and touching the menus behind it.

I went back to the salt and began shoving it around again. Out of my peripheral, I watched as Bucky swirled his drink again, turned back around, and emptied the glass. I bit my lip to keep from laughing out loud and tried to compose my expressions.

He hunched his shoulder and gagged, spitting out the contents back into the glass. Coughing dramatically and covering his mouth with his hand, he grew red from the lack of air.

Once he gained the ability to breathe again, he glared over at me and asked “What the hell did you do to my drink?”

I looked over, meeting his eyes, and smiled as innocently as I could, “I didn’t do anything, it must be karma. Maybe she thinks you deserved it for hurting my feelings.”

“When did I hurt your feelings?” He was still struggling with the taste in his mouth and looked very confused with his pinched eyebrows. 

I gestured at the salt pile that lay in front of me, earning another roll of his steel, blue eyes.

He looked away and asked the bartender for a new pour. He got a new glass with new liquid in it, as he turned in his chair to greet none other than Steve Rogers at the doorway. 

He was wearing his outing army uniform, his hair was still the same blonde and styled in that swept-away look. His blue eyes danced between both me and Bucky, then smiled lightly. 

I turned in my chair and raised my arms above my head in fake excitement, “Captain America! The man with a plan! The man who wears tights which has scarred me for life! The Spangle Man,” I said with a dramatic tone and dropped my arms, “I’m glad you’re here, Bucky is being a butthead.”

He raised his eyebrows, “Thanks for the introduction. And I’ve already apologized about the tights.”

“But that image does not leave one's mind, Mr. Star Spangler.”

He shifted to look at Bucky, “Butthead?”

“I was not being a ‘butthead’! She tried to poison me!” He whined. 

I snapped my head over to him and faked confusion, “I’ve told you, Bucket, it wasn’t me. It was karma.”

He opened his mouth to reply but caught Steve’s amused look and decided to ignore the entire conversation, “I told you, they’re all idiots.”

I huffed and turned back around, asking for a drink from the bartender, who tilted his head, and promptly asked if I should even be at the bar. I blinked, “Yeah, I’m 18. Give me something.”

He shook his head, and I sighed and slumped forward. 

“But you’re keeping the outfit right?” A glint of mischievousness glinting in them. I fake gagged, earning a glance from Steve. I smiled and gave him a sideways glance in return as he spun around, staring at the picture of him in his costume, saluting, covered with a ribbon that read ‘tour canceled until further notice’. 

“You know what,” he said, assessing the painting, “It’s kind of growing on me.”

I hope not. That’s a whole different problem if it’s biologically attached to you now.

All of the yelling and talking in the other room had abruptly stopped, and heels clicked as they walked closer to us, and then stopped right behind us. 

I turned in my seat, and my jaw dropped. If my jaw weren’t attached to me, it would be on the ground. 

Peggy walked into the doorway, causing all three of us to stand up. She wore a skin-tight, wine-red dress with matching red heels that added 3 inches to her physique. Her brown hair was still curled, but more in a classy way, lacking the flip on top. Her full lips painted the same red as her dress and she held a handbag at her side. 

“Holy shit,” I looked over at the boys, “I bet y'all would let her peg y’all any day.” 

I nodded, acceptingly, and looked back at Peggy, who stared at me with slightly raised eyebrows and a suppressed smile. 

Both boys choked, but for different reasons; Steve because of the inappropriateness (and how true it likely was), while Bucky was laughing.

She moved to stand directly in line with Steve, maintaining eye contact the whole way.

As she walked over, Bucky checked out her ass as she moved, Peggy looked over to glare.

“Ma’am,” he said, meeting her eyes with a sly smile.

She looked back at Steve, tilting her head up slightly to make direct eye contact, “Howard has some equipment for you to try. Tomorrow morning?” 

Bucky shifted his gaze at me and pouted. I shrugged.

“Sounds good.”

Peggy looked away, and Steve looked her up and down. I observed as Bucky watched him do this, a sad expression shadowing his face as he looked down, then away to the doorway. 

Is he seriously butt hurt that Steve checked out Peggy when he did the same thing?

I moved back to my chair and sat down, cleaning the salt off the counter into a napkin.

“I see your top squad is prepping for duty.”

“You don’t like music?” Bucky asked.

“I do, actually,” I looked over and she was staring longingly into Steve’s blue eyes, “I might even, when this is all over, go dancing.” 

Oh my god, can this terrible flirting just end, please?

“Then what are we waiting for?” 

“The right partner,” she said softer.

Well, that's gagging.

“0800 captain,” still soft-voiced, but a bit more authoritative.

And that was that. She turned and left us staring.

“Yes ma’am. I’ll be there,” Steve stood a bit straighter and his voice became more professional.

As soon as she was gone, Steve hung his head in shyness. 

“I’m invisible,” Bucky turned, telling Steve in an exasperated tone, “I’m turning into you. It’s like a horrible dream.”

“Don’t take it too hard,” Steve patted him on the shoulder and moved back to the bar, “maybe she’s got a friend.” 

I snorted and turned away from them.

Bucky raised an eyebrow and sat on my right again, “Oh you think that’s funny, do you?”

I turned back and folded up my salt napkin into a folder so it didn’t spill, “No, not at all. I pity that you aren’t attractive enough to get fucked, unlike Steve.” 

“Alright, I need to have a conversation with your father about your potty mouth, missy,”

“You do that, you’ll be missing an arm, ya hear me?” 

Bucky smiled and looked away at Steve who was watching me with humor in his eyes but wasn’t smiling.

“You really do need to start watching your language,” he shrugged and started drinking his liquor, “it’s not polite and it's gone a bit overboard. You aren’t a sailor.”

I just stared at him and shared a glance at Bucky, who just blinked. I turned in my seat, grabbed the salt shaker, and looked at Bucky, silently telling him to distract the Captain.

He nodded then turned around, facing towards Steve, “Hey don’t we know that guy?” he pointed at a random dude, making Steve swivel around.

“Um, no? I don’t think so-”

He was starting to turn back around at Bucky as I was unscrewing the top, “No, no we definitely know him. I think his name is John or something. Look closely,”

Steve stared hard at the man, clearly assessing him head to toe, trying to figure out if they knew this man or not. The salt was unscrewed and I quickly dumped a large amount into his drink. Bucky’s eyes grew two sizes when he watched it dump. I moved back into my position, placed the salt in its home, then resumed my normal position. 

“Ah, I guess not. Welp, that’s my bad,” he shrugged and took a drink of his own.

Steve turned to look at Bucky very confused, then shook his head. He picked up his cup and brought it to his lips.

“I’m going home and it’s bedtime,” I stood up quickly and got my ass out of the chair and out the doorway, receiving no response.

When I reached the middle of the bar, I heard a loud laugh and coughing erupt, “ARABELLA!”

I laughed and everyone turned towards me in confused stares, then started sprinting, muttering “Oh shit” the whole way when I heard the sound of a chair clattering on the ground.

The next morning I was standing next to Mr. Stark, watching as he maneuvered a robotic pair of tweezers. He was staring so hard at the tiny blue rock. analyzing everything he saw as noteworthy.

My pa was away, fixing up some planes, and was now on his way into areas to make sure things weren't going wrong, so he told me to stay at the base with Mr. Stark, Steve Rogers, and Bucky Barnes. He also told the men that they had to keep an eye on me and that if anything happened, they'd be dead in a week. I was able to say bye, but it felt final. I knew he was going to be back and that I'd see him again, but my gut twisted and pulled like I wasn't. I shrugged the feeling off and watched Mr. Stark fidget with the rock.

“Emission signature is unusual,” Mr. Stark said, I wasn’t sure how he could tell though, “Alpha and Beta ray neutral. Though I doubt Rogers picked up on that.”

He spared a glance to his partner, then looked back at the tiny rock that was floating mid-air now in its glass contraption. I walked away from the glass and sat down in a nearby chair next to all the buttons, I had no clue what he was talking about. Alpha and beta what? Don’t ask me.

“Seems harmless enough. Hard to see what all the fuss was about.”

I opened my mouth to tell him about how we were shot at in the plane with this, but the rock seemed to hear him and wanted to prove him wrong.

Because next thing I knew, Mr. Stark was flying backward through the air, slamming onto the ground that was now littered with tiny pieces of glass. The explosion also pushed me back onto the ground, hard onto my butt.

An oomph sounded from me as I landed and pain started emitting from the area. 

I stood up and rubbed the part that hurt, mentally adding this to the list of things I can blame Howard Stark for. 

I moved away from the lettered glass, hearing Mr. Stark say “Write that down,” in a strangled voice.

A while later, I sat at a vacated desk next to a curly-haired blonde who was positively boring. When I came up to her to ask where she wanted me to sit, she ignored me for about 5 seconds, hiding behind a newspaper titled “400 prisoners liberated” in big bold letters. 

When she finally looked up, her eyes narrowed into an annoyed expression, “over there.”

She only slightly shifted her eyes to her right, gesturing to the empty desk with a lamp, a telephone, and a collection of papers. The desk didn’t have a chair so I just sat down on it, moving the papers away from where I sat. I grimaced as my sore butt hit the hardwood, it was most likely bruised.

Mr. Stark was in a meeting with Colonel Phillips about the rock, talking about what they could use it for, how to keep it from HYDRA, what they might’ve done with it, etc. He had told me to go sit out of the way and specifically told me “No touching and no snooping.”

No snooping my ass.

I grabbed a paper with rushed writing on it and read the few legible lines on it; something about ‘Wakanda', ‘Vibranium’, and ‘King T’Chanda’. I had no idea what any of that was, nor did I actually care. As I set the paper down, steps echoed down the hallway, and Steve appeared.

He noticed me sitting on the desk and narrowed his eyes in annoyance. I grinned back and raised my eyebrows quickly. 

He stopped in his tracks and turned towards the boring blonde, “Excuse me, I’m looking for Mr. Stark.”

His hands were tucked behind his back and he wore his uniform which was branded with pins. He stood so he was slightly facing the woman and had his head tilted down to see her.

“He’s in with Colonel Phillips,” she said in a bored voice, never once taking her eyes off the paper. When she finally looked up at him, she looked taken aback, looking between the paper and him.

Her face and voice shifted to something more seductive when she realized who he was, curling her red lips upward and slightly raising her eyebrows, “Of course, you’re welcome to wait.” 

Steve watched this shift in tone and smiled apprehensively. He nodded, pointed to the desk I was sitting on, and nodded again. He moved his hands and folded them over the area between his legs as he leaned onto the desk. It shifted slightly, causing me to have to move the lamp to sit more comfortably.

“I read about what you did,” she turned, crossing her legs over one another and turning her paper around to show the header to Steve, then placing it down on the desk behind her without looking away.

I glanced over at Steve but he avoided my gaze, “Oh the…yeah,” he had an awkward small smile on his face as he nodded, “Well that’s, you know…”

He was very uncomfortable. I thought about cutting in the conversation to end his suffering, but I thought better of it.

“Just doing what needed to be done.” 

“Sounded like more than that,” she tilted her head slightly and bounced her foot, “You saved nearly 400 men.”

I rolled my eyes at her, goodness she was insufferable.

Steve paused, taking a breath and offering her a small smile that slowly disappeared off his face. The lady looked him up and down, pursing her lips and adjusting her seat. 

Steve quickly analyzed her, sharing the look up and down, he raised his hand up and then let it fall, “Really, it’s not a big deal,” he tried to deflect the situation and get her to back off.

I rethought my whole decision when she uncrossed her legs slowly and began to stand up, “Tell that to their wives.”

Her head tilted down and she smiled slyly as she started to walk towards him. He crossed his arms over his chest quickly, taking a deep breath in through his mouth and holding it, scrunching up his eyebrows in clear confusion. He quickly dropped the confused look and let the breath go, looking anywhere but the woman who was pushing personal boundaries, “Uh, I don’t think they were all married.”

“You’re a hero,” she grabbed the tie of his suit and started stroking the clothing.

Steve opened his mouth, spluttering for a response but I quickly cut in, “and you’re being a nuisance, back the fuck up before your blonde hair turns red.”

She let go of his tie and glared daggers at me, “You stay out of this, girl.”

Steve just blinked stupidly, red creeping up his neck and mouth open like a fish with a hook attached to it.

“Touch him again and you’ll find out just how good my aim is, you cu-”

“Ara.”

I turned to see Peggy staring at me, her lips pressed into a hard line and her posture was erect, hands latched behind her back. 

She moved her gaze to the secretary, then to Steve where he was fixing his suit. Her face posture morphed in frustration but her face gave nothing away. 

“We’re ready for you,” then she glanced at the blonde, “if you’re not otherwise occupied.”

She spun around quickly and Steve rushed to follow her. I gave the secretary one last look, then followed them.

“Peggy, that’s not what you thought it was,” he rushed up to her side.

I followed a few steps behind them in case they stopped randomly. 

“I don’t think anything, Captain, not one thing.” 

Steve looked back pleadingly, he seriously wanted me to diffuse this right now?

“Peggy-”

“This does not include you, Arabella, stay out of it,” she cut me off to resume fighting, “You always wanted to be a soldier, and now you are, just like all the rest.”

Steve slowed down to a stop, “Well how about you and Stark? How do I know you two haven’t been fondue-ing?”

Peggy turned around, looking sorry, then annoyed again, “You still don’t know a thing about women,” she turned around and continued towards a door, leaving Steve stumped.

I watched as a man worked on Steve’s motorcycle, tightening the chain and checking the bolts holding the engine. I looked up to see Steve holding a circular-shaped shield.

“What’s it made of?” He questioned.

“Vibranium,” Mr. Stark replied, “It’s stronger than steel and a third the weight. It’s completely vibration resistant.”

Mr. Stark wore suspenders over a gray button-up shirt, complete with a reddish tie. He also wore brown pants and black dress shoes. His hair was neatly mused and his hands stuffed into his pockets, slouching forward slightly.

“How come it’s not standard issue?” Steve asked, again about the shield.

“That’s the rarest metal on Earth; what you’re holding there, that’s all we’ve got.” 

Steve lowered the shield, looking at it one more time.

“You quite finished, Mr. Stark?” Peggy was walking up moodily towards the boys, “I’m sure the captain has some unfinished business.”

Someone’s pissy.

Steve turned to face her, raising the shield in a gesture, “What do you think?” He was smiling excitedly.

Peggy bit her cheek, turned to the table, and grabbed a handgun. She turned back towards Steve, aimed it at his chest, and shot four times. Steve raised the shield in defense and lowered it very carefully after she was done, confusion evident on his features. 

“Yes, I think it works.” 

She walked right past them and towards the exit.

I got up from the crouch I subconsciously was in, and walked to be next to Steve, and now Mr. Stark who also moved next to him to watch Peggy leave.

Without taking their eyes off her, Steve handed him a paper with plans of the uniform, earning a ‘yeah whatever you want, pal’ from Mr. Stark.

I just turned and looked at Steve and grinned, “Either I’m in love or I want to be her, I can’t tell which yet.”

“Get in line, kid,” mumbled Mr. Stark quietly.