Chemical Poison

Seated next to Howard as the two completed their usual Saturday ritual: Anneliese rushing out the door with her bag filled with paperwork to the shiny red car sitting in her empty driveway, a  smirking Howard Stark was behind the wheel. It was always like this now, he would pick her up. It was sweet and it was nice.

It was an intimate that Anneliese knew how to handle.

Ruffling through her paperwork, Anneliese made use of the dashboard to hold all the documents she wanted to review before she entered the office. Knowing she would not be having the full-day to work on project rebirth and the numerous other communications she was dealing with.

Especially since Howard and Alexander were in discussion with the president on another top secret project, that Anneliese was far too happy to decline to lead. One was enough. She had plenty on her plate, considering the candidate, Steven Rogers, was to arrive on base on Monday. On top of all that, she was also expected to attend Alexander Grey's birthday dinner, his ball, his party and some sort of sick surprise he was keeping from not only herself, but his best friend Howard Stark.

Huffing in her seat as she scanned over the financial documents Harold has sent to her office late last night. It seemed that the rating for Stark Industrials had stopped moving; it was neither increasing or decreasing. And that was terrifying. With that, Harold had circled the decreased profits in the automobile department. It was only by a few dollars, but if left unchecked, it could turn into something so much worse.

And Anneliese did not like lost profits.

Squinting her eyes over the numbers, she ignored Howard's laugh as she continued to read them. Noticing that the decrease in numbers came from Howard's latest vehicle, something about men not being interested in a green car. She'd need to bring up to Howard that bright colours weren't the best choice for future models.  

The car came to an erupt stop, causing all her paperwork to go flying from the dashboard and her lap. Crumpling and messing up all her documents that she had meretriciously sorted from most important to least last night. Within an instant, Anneliese turned around to face Howard. Far too quickly, her eyes blinded by hatred that hours of sorting through tedious paperwork was lost, she was not aware that Howard had leaned over to look at her work. Or, the work that was now scattered on the foot-space below her.  

Crashing into his nose, Anneliese let out a shrill cry as she move away from him, clutching her nose almost instantly. Involuntarily, tears appeared to begin forming in her waterline as she hissed in pain. 

Snapping her eyes to meet Howard, who had doubled backwards and was also clutching his forehead. He looked murderous, but fear glinted in his eyes. 

She must look beyond murderous, because she sure felt a looming wrath begging to seek vengenes against Howard.

"What the fuck was that for Anneliese!" Howard exclaimed, rubbing his forehead with his palm.

Huffing, Anneliese still clucthed her nose, "I did nothing!" she screeched. Her thoughts pegging a plan to poison him at work, the perfect solution. "You're the one that stopped so suddenly!"

Both instantly stopped glaring as Anneliese's words carried weight.

Howard had indeed stopped rather suddenly.

And that was when they both realised that they were at the cafe that serves the best blueberry muffins they'd ever eaten.

So, without a second thought, the two quietly left the car and walked towards the cafe. No words were exchanged as Hoard opened the door for Anneliese, a small DING alerting that they had entered. 

Once inside, the intrusive and delightful smells of baked goods plunged into Anneliese's nose, tearing apart any malicious thoughts she wished upon Howard. Her eyes nearly watered from the golden glow the countless muffins and danish's inside the glass cabinets. This cafe, or should she say patisserie, was to die for. Especially the blueberry muffins, most certainly the blue berry muffins.

The store inside was crowded though, a devastating consequences of the far too frequent visits Howard made to this patisserie. It was always filled to the brim, business men and woman alike were all talking - trying to get ahold of the scrumptious pastries. Anneliese could barely see the owners, Mr and Ms. Couchia, a sweet American-French couple.

Waiting within the cafe whilst ignoring the stares they received, Anneliese knew Howard was directly behind her. She knew this for three simple facts.

1. His hands wrapped around her waist.

2. His head was resting on her shoulder.

3. She could quite literally feel his body against her back. 

It was an intimate that she wasn't fluent in, but not completely opposed too.  

She could feel his breath on her neck as he whispered, "We will be here all day if you don't push through."

Scoffing, Anneliese angled her neck to her side, just able to see his growing smile. 

"We have been over this," She whispered back harshly, "I am not pushing through, I haven't in the past nor will I in the future. We will wait in line, got it?"

A chuckle vibrated just under her ear. "As you say, Miss Lorenz."

Shiver.

She hated him.

Just as much as she was addicted to him.

Seated back in the car, the warm muffin resting on her lap. She took the time to glance over at Howard already picking apart his blueberry. Supposably, Howard did not like blueberries in the slightest. However, he refused to not order the blue berry muffin for some odd reason.

"You can just get a vanilla muffin, or I am sure Ms Couchia will use the same mix and not add the blueberries just for you."

Howard tutted her as he continued to extract every single blueberry from his muffin, placing them on a napkin that rested on the small compartment in-between their seats. His work was meticulous, the same level of concentration he used when he builds the planes the American Government has demanded for.

His eyes meets hers, a grin appearing across his lips. "But you like blueberries," he stated, as if it was a fact. And it was. Anneliese loved blueberries. "If I get a vanilla muffin, how am I meant to give you extra blueberries?"

Her heart did a flip.

Screw Howard and his sentiments.

Screw him.

Perhaps maybe she could screw hi-

-and that thought was by far too improper of her standings. 

Without saying a word, Anneliese picked up the blueberries Howard had picked out and ate them slowly. Taking pleasure in the bliss that is the purple juice against her tongue, it was a sort of life source. A liquid luck perhaps. She just really liked blueberries.

They continued to eat in silence, until Anneliese took an actual glance at Howard. 

What on earth is he wearing, she thought as she stared him down. Mouth gaping. Across from her, she had witnessed a hate crime to all of America. Behold, the worse made suit along side the most atrocious colour combination in existence.

The muffin tasted dry on her lips as she satin purple shirt clashed so horribly with the felt brown suit. She wouldn't even commit on the horror she felt as her eyes glanced down at his darker brown pants and black lace up shoes. This. Whatever this was, it was by far, the definition to Anneliese's usual nightmares.

A fashion horror story.

"What?", Howard baited her. As he pinched a bit of blueberry-less piece of her muffin.

Scoffing in disbelief, Anneliese carefully placed her half eaten muffin where the blueberries were previously placed (all eaten by Anneliese of course). Her hands gestured at his entire outfit.

"Do I need to hire a personal dresser for you as well?"

"What's wrong with my outfit?"

The second the question left Howard's lips, Anneliese was blinded by outrage. She wasn't sure if the brown became more orange or if it was the red she was seeing. Regardless, the outfit was clashing enough to blind anyone that dared to look.

"Everything," she hissed out.

So blinded by his outfit, she hadn't realised that Howard had picked out all the blueberries in her own muffin and scoffed it all down. Until she went to pick up her muffin, to find blueberries only remained.

It seemed, the murderous thoughts never vanished.

They just remained lurking.

"If you want to live until tomorrow," Anneliese said darkly, as she ate the blueberries, "I'd think very hard on how you would apologies for your crimes."

Howard's face lit up as he started the car and his next words were not an apology in the slightest.

In a teasing voice, Howard begun the onslaught.

"Oh I am very terrified", Howard mocked, "Are you going to call the fashion police on me?"

Not moving an inch, Anneliese wondered what his limp body would look like on a stake above fire. She assumed glorious.

"Oh no!" He continued to say, "They're dragging me to the mall to buy a new suit-"

Perhaps not a stake but a cliff. A simple push and she could hear the sweet cries as he fell towards his certain death. That would taste sweeter than any blueberry muffin.

"I guess the fashion police should arrest me at lunch," he continued. Winking in her direction as they pulled up at the front of Stark Industrials, "What do you say, Miss Fashion Police?"

Gasping in outrage, Anneliese quickly collected her messed up documents and shoved them viciously into her bag. Unfortunately, allowing enough time for Howard to reach her door and open it. His grin, nothing but a beacon of his unrelenting teases. As she stood up, Howard had already snaked his hands around her waist, guiding her towards the entrance.

Hissing in his ear, "I am not going shopping with you during a work day, and especially not after the offenses you've committed!"

A chuckle left his lips, "Then, I'll have to pull rank. I need my secretary to accompany me to the mall to buy myself a new suit and herself a lovely dress."

Growling, she stared up at him, hating every inch of his flawless skin.

"I hate you so much, have I told you that?"

"Nearly every day, sweetheart."

Arriving at the elevator, Anneliese caught ahold of Miss Cotton. Quickly informing her that Alexander will be answering any questions necessary until midday, including the questions directed at herself or Howard. Miss Cotton did not question it, instead groaned about having to avoid Alexander's obvious attempts to woo her into his bed.

He was always unsuccessful with Miss Cotton.

Waiting until the two reached the top floor, alone within the corridor. The onslaught finally begun.

"Change your suit." Anneliese demanded, eyes racking the impressively ugly clothes he was wearing. For a man as classically beautiful as Howard, this outfit only made him far too unattractive for a man like him.

A grin appeared from his lips as he circled Anneliese in the corridor. Shivers ran down her spine as she only just remembered how alone she was on the top floor, even in the corridor. As it was Howard's level for a reason, exclusively just his. 

Much like how a predator watched his prey, Anneliese was stuck in thought. To flee or to fight? Perhaps, much like the prey, it was easier to fall into what ever trap Howard had set up. 

The trap, it seemed, was her against the wall of the corridor, Howard's lips hovering over her own. His gaze entrapping her own, all thoughts of freedom disappeared as she melted into him. So uneducated in the art of loving, she was lost to its wonder, the fear and the addiction.

And he smelt so nice, that the grin that scraped across her lips barely bothered her. 

Cinnamon and Gunpowder.

How she found herself in this position, she was unsure. Much like how the prey is blind to the traps a predator sets up. But she couldn't find herself hating it, not in the slightest. 

"Only if you keep your promise from yesterday." His words brushed against all her will power. Anneliese couldn't keep her eyes away from his lips now, completely unaware of what he was saying - what english was anymore. 

Howard Stark had done what she thought was impossible. He had broken her in the most beautiful ways a man, a lover could. She would be malleable to his touch, willing to give herself... even with all her fears of the unknown.

The future was never certain for Anneliese. Another breathe of air or the morning sunrise, it was all a luxury to her. Yet, Howard remained her dangerous secret - well lack of. He was her weakness, and she couldn't help but relish with his touch. His words.

"I believe you're meant to teach me how to dance."

And he moved away, leaving Anneliese's face flush as she remained against the wall. Howard raked his eyes down her and back up to her lips, and she knew he took pleasure in how utterly helpless she was to him. How unable she was to stop all her transgressions for romance. The fears of it all didn't seem to leave her lips trembling, but the fallout did.

But maybe that was what the poets meant about falling in love.

She'd never know when she first started fall, but once she made it to the end. 

It would completely and irreversibly destroy her.

The door locks as Howard closes it. With it shut, she knew a code would be necessary to have access into the office. Her heart flutter with reasons unknown, but perhaps that was the cruel ways her mind was wired as a child. Terrified of what she did not know, but a strange sense of curiosity always lurked.

Yet, her eyes remained on Howard as he pulled off his offensively brown blazer and placed it onto his chair, he turned around. Rolling up his sleeves. Anneliese seemed to snap out of whatever trace he placed her into, quickly glancing around the room to see his office had been moved around slightly. Plenty of room to practice danci-

-and then she saw the gramophone.

Watching him curiously, his fingers easily turned it on and music flooded the room. A classical piece. It flooded her, crippled her.

And suddenly she was no longer Anneliese Lorenz, but the Lorenz heir. Possessed by the music.

It was German for sure.

She eyed him carefully as the music melted into her muscles and she relaxed them all the same, just as she did when she was younger. "Howard?"

Her slow voice alerted Howard, who had made his way towards Anneliese, "I had called Grey's current step-mother about the music, she informed me that this particular artist is rather popular for the waltz."

Sighing, she nodded as she placed her bag on the floor, against the wall and stood in front of Howard. 

Flicking her eyes to meet his, she didn't need to say the words, as her question was far too obvious in her eyes. It was a beg for consent, to move him around like a doll. A power she was provided all the same.

Carefully, Anneliese interlaced her right hand with his left hand. Next, Anneliese instructed with her freehand for him to slide his right hand under her arm, placing it on her back - just below her shoulder blade. Resting her own left hand on the top of his arm near his shoulder. 

She had to take a deep breath before she step closer, forcing Howard to pull her closer, until their were mere inches between them. Staring up at his face, she noticed the way his lips played an awkward smile, a tune she rarely heard. 

Standing in this position, unmoved, Anneliese didn't stop herself from staring at him, and him at her. Her confidence bloomed within her lungs, forcing her jaw to tighten, a hardline forming at his mouth. Entrapped by his gaze, Anneliese ripped hers away, staring across the room as she listened to the tempo of the music.

"Uh." Her voice was impassive as she continued to stare past him, glancing directly at the desk nearly hidden by his frame. "The dance that is socially correct to this music is the Viennese Waltz. Of course the American's have changed certain aspects of the waltz, but I believe the Germanic charm of its origin makes it all the sweeter."

Her attention is forced back to Howard as he whispers, "German?"

Nodding her head, she drops her gaze to his chest, refusing to meet his eyes. "The dance itself requires the female to be capable of following their partner, depend and responsive of whatever lead they are taken. On top, the steps itself are rather easy. However, since you're neither a woman or able to allow me to take charge. I've already concluded that this is going to take far too much time for you to seem good enough."

Flashing a condescending smile, she watched Howard scowl down back at her.

Howard shuffled slightly, and Anneliese moves her toes just quick enough to avoid getting them treaded on. "I'll be a natural."

"Then stop treading on me."

"Don't worry Sweetheart, I'm just falling for y-"

-Anneliese abruptly started to move. Taking pleasure in Howard trying to follow her movement but his knees collided with hers. Only causing her to yelp in pain and silent profanities left Howard's lips. 

However, this was exactly how Anneliese was taught. It needed to be learnt through instinct. Her mother had made sure of that. It should feel like gliding, full trust in ones partner. That that her previous partners in Germany could ever be trusted.

So, she forced Howard to get over whatever complaint he had over the pain. Forcing him to match the speed she expected him to waltz at, he kept hissing that it was too fast. And, again and again and again. They followed the same pace.

Until Howard backed away from her, hissing venomously. "You're a terrible tutor."

"And I've never seen a worst student."

Howard then straighten his back and stood in position, waiting for Anneliese. Before she could grab ahold of his hand, he tutted. "Slower."

It was a demand, but Anneliese agreed. Just to get him to stop complaining.

Matching the position, they waltzed slower. He was slowly picking up the movements necessary, finally understanding that he had to lead Anneliese into every step. A mistake he was making far too many times was following her. At the slower pace, Howard... was less terrible.

"Danced a lot in Germany?"

His prompt caught her completely off-guard, nearly causing her to forget her own footing. Barely pivoting her feet to avoid Howard's own shoes. Glancing back up at him, she nodded.

He seemed to take her answer and form a new question within seconds. "Why?"

The question itself shouldn't have been as complex as it was. It should have been simple. Her mother was an aristocrat and that was what aristocrats did. They danced, flaunted their wealth through estates and made business at every ball. And yet, that wasn't the closest thing to why she danced.

The Schmidts were the pinnacle of high society in Germany, before and after all the uprising. As two things kept them on the top.

1. Money.

Wealth in Germany was different. At least, different to Howard's type of wealth. It was old, it was dirty and it was covered in blood. Anneliese wasn't just the heir to the Lorenz fortune - an account that grew enormously from her father's scientific endeavors. But she was the future of high society.

As the only female born of her generation of Schmidts, her duties to her family was starkly different to her cousins. She was to be grace, to hold conversation, to plan events and to entertain. Much like her mother, she was raised as a socialite before anything else.

2. Blood.

Behind every doors of the Schmidt's ballrooms was a darker truth. Dressed in all black and silver, was daggers in stomachs, poison in wine and gunpowder filling the noses of those that dared to look behind the curtain. Balls, parties and galas were never made to further their political gain, it was always a cover for something vile.

As the only female born of her generation of Schmidts, she was completely unaware of what lurked behind the red velvet curtains until she was older. It was torture, it was pain and it was murder. Once she was a socialite, she became a murder. The temp was the same as the waltz, the slashing, the stabbing and the screeches of pain. It was a cruel fate to taint such a beautiful dance.

Her answer to Howard was beyond complicated, but he didn't need to know.

"I was an aristocrat back at home. It was my duty, just like my mother, to hold events and entertain guests whilst the men conducted business."

The answer clearly wasn't enough.

"And who would you dance with then?"

Frozen, Anneliese missed a beat.

Ignoring the soft glance filled with worry from Howard, she continued the dance, turning clockwise as they did. Slowly, she forced him to dance slightly closer as she tried to not succumb into the memory the begged to be unleashed

Lurking sensations burned across her ribs as she remembered her designated dancing partner all too well.

Flickering her eyes to meet Howard's, she smiled. Even when she knew the truth was always harder to swallow. Perhaps, the truth didn't need to be said today.

"It was tradition in my family that the next head of the house always danced with the eldest daughter. As the only daughter, I would dance with the next head of the house." She paused, clearly remembering his pearly white teeth, his meticulously placed brown hair and the same matching beady black eyes.

"I would dance with my cousin, Oskar." The name left a metallic taste in her mouth, "He was an excellent dancer."

Howard frowned at her answer, but no question could leak from his mouth.

As Alexander had barged into the room, Miss Cotton following behind with two dress bags behind her shoulder. Within an instant, Anneliese pulled away from Howard. But the damage was already done.

"How did you get into my office?"

"Honestly Howard? The code was far too easy to guess- 221018? Anyone who knew Ana's b-"

"What do you want?"

"Oh, Idk... maybe a happy birthday alexander, congratulations for 26 years of life-"

Howard's voice grew lower as he spoke, "-Grey"

"Fine, I was just informing Miss Cotton which press is invited. Wait, are - were you dancing?"

Anneliese cringes at his statement, but decided to change the conversation quickly.

Nodding her head in Miss Cotton's direction. She asks cooly. "And what are those Alexander?"

His usual grin appeared across his lips, "They would be your outfits for the evening. Considering I'd help you out Ana, as the suit looks horribl-"

"OUT!"

Miss Cotton got the memo quickly from Howards tone, and left the two dress bags on a sofa and left the room. Alexander followed shortly, making any and all attempts to woo Miss Cotton into attending his birthday party. Anneliese knew he would lose. 

However, Anneliese found herself walking towards the bag, and unzipping it. And there, a fully black suit was inside for Howard. Passing it to Howard, who had made his way over to the dress bags with the same curiosity she held. Anneliese dared to open the bag. 

To be surprised.

Completely surprised.

Terrifyingly surprised.

It was a red dress.

"As much as the bloke is a dick," Howard begun, eyes raking over the dress. "He definitely knows how to choose a colour."

It was the colour itself that made Anneliese tremble.

It was red.

A very specific red.

The colour of her roses back home...

...back in Germany.