The Last Dance | Chapter Five
Author’s Note: Wow, this has been the longest time I took for a break in writing for any of my fics. I apologize for the year and months it took! I hope y’all will like this one anyway. <3 I’m grateful for @spxderbarnes for the last challenge two years ago (OMG IT WAS THAT LONG AGO). ❤️
Plot: 1940s post-war era. Steve and Bucky are brothers and are teenagers, and they never served in the army because they were too young to join during the war. You find out you’re pregnant with Steve’s baby. Both Steve’s and your parents arrange for you and Steve to get married, but Steve declines. Ultimately, his father offers his other son, James (later known as Bucky), to marry you in Steve’s place.
Word Count: 3.2k
Pairing: Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader, Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader (eventually)
Warnings: 18+ Content! Teenage pregnancy, arranged marriage, religious theme, sexist theme, fluff, smut (of course), angst, Steve being a cold jerk, characters coming from the comics (i.e. Bucky’s family), MCU characters appearing in this era (i.e. Bruce is your younger brother and some others who will appear in the next chapters).
AO3
Chapter Four - The Wedding
Chapter Title: The City (Part One)
One week after the wedding. Manhattan, New York.
The days went by so fast. It has been incredibly awkward being with James in the past couple of weeks. It still feels like yesterday when you first found out you were pregnant. When you first told Steve about it. And when you danced in the cafe. It may have only happened three weeks ago - all that drama and heartache and the engagement. But your feelings for Steve haven’t changed at all. You still loved him the way you always have even before all this. Yet, despite the strength of your love, you can’t help but feel distant from Steve. You called it a nostalgic sadness - if it makes any sense. It’s been almost three weeks since the last time you have spoken to him. And you knew that James would surely let you know if Steve had sent you a letter. He simply didn’t.
You thought of all this while removing your makeup in front of your vanity. James was seated on the edge of the bed, staring blankly in the air, as if his gaze was far away. You noticed.
“James? Something bothering you?” You asked him, your voice softly reaching his ears. He turned his head to face you then he smiled on one side of his face as he sighed heavily.
“Just thinkin’ about us, doll,” he paused, realizing he may have said something he didn’t mean. “Living in the city’s gonna cost us.” Being married to James guaranteed a life away from both your families. You would have loved to still be at home with your mother and to see Bruce everyday - be in that kind of living situation where you only have to worry about school and your chores. But now, you sat looking at the young man seated in a bed you share with him, and you held your slowly growing tummy. Things will never be the same, you thought to yourself.
“That’s okay. I’ll find a job too,” you offered. Both your family and James’ agreed that he will drop out of school so he could find a job and support you both, while you could finish your senior year. The apartment that you’re renting was funded by both your and James’ parents. So now, the rest is up to you and him.
“No,” he denied gently. “We’ve talked about this, remember? You’ll finish school this year.” His voice felt warm, his tone almost begging. You stood up from the stool of your vanity and walked towards him.
“But it’s not fair, James. Not to you.” You sat beside him and realized how you’re still not used to being beside him in bed, but you kept your cool. “None of this is ever fair to you, ok? I can go back to school next year.”
“After you’ve had your baby? We won’t have enough money for school and for the baby. We gotta be smart about this, doll.”
“And was it smart of you to marry me, James?” He gave you a small smile that you couldn’t exactly define, except that it was a good one. He gently took your hand and squeezed it tenderly.
“You should stop doubting me, doll.” He clicked his tongue as he glanced away, then looked back into your eyes and said, “You should stop doubting yourself, too.” You didn’t react but you sighed quietly, looking down. “What is it? What’s the matter?”
“I don’t wanna go back to school...I don’t think I can, James. Please...you have to agree with me.” He looked at you with concerned eyes and caught his breath when you turned over your hand so you could hold his. He couldn’t imagine how it must be like for you to go back to school with your current state - to have gotten pregnant before graduating and being left by Steve, your baby daddy. All that James could take was how you looked when you begged him with the sincerest eyes. He nodded softly.
“Ok. You’re going back when you’re ready.”
“And I’ll get a job.”
“And you’ll get a job.”
The next day, you explored the morning paper’s ads for a job and wrote a few letters and made a few phone calls from the telephone booth just across your apartment building. James got a job at a construction company. He goes to work at 7 in the morning and comes home around 6 in the evening. The construction site was across Central Park West, he said to you over dinner. They were building a new apartment complex that was meant to be finished in the next two or three years.
Meanwhile, that afternoon, you spent some time in the kitchen to learn a new dish. You knew how to cook, but you haven’t reached the level of your mother’s cooking just yet. You were still far away from feeding your new family the kind of food you and your little brother have been having yourselves. Simple breakfast meals and mushroom soups have been your menu’s contents for the past couple weeks, and you began to worry that James would miss his mama’s cooking at home. You couldn’t blame him - you missed your mother’s cooking, too. But you still haven’t reconciled with her, not even at your own wedding.
You stood there, blankly browsing through a Majestic Recipes cookbook, which you found in a bookstore that day. It was on sale, and you had some spare change to pay for it. You flipped through a few pages. Your eyes skimmed through details, scanning which recipes looked like the easiest, and that only required what you have in the kitchen. You weren’t having it. Cooking was supposed to be somewhat a mindless thing to do. You’ve noticed your mother cook without having to think so hard, and you began beating yourself up mentally for even overthinking what meal to cook for dinner.
“It’s just one meal, for chrissakes,” You groaned frustratingly, then sighed heavily and immediately went to the living room and turned on the radio. After the static of the radio, the first tunes of trumpets and flutes made you feel comforted. It was an old song, but you knew it pretty well and began swaying your body to the music. Frank Sinatra’s smooth voice began filling the apartment, and you smiled as you walked back to the kitchen. By evening, you learned how easy it was to cook spaghetti with meatballs. You were quite happy with your achievement, as it was nothing you expected.
Your day was filled with worry - getting a job, not getting back to school, and how on earth were you going to feed yourself and the baby inside you...it was overwhelming, but that night, you found that cooking gave you a therapeutic feeling somehow.
James came home tired, but the moment he stepped foot into the apartment, the expression on his face lifted. There was the smell of cooking tomatoes and beef, onions, and spices, and the whole apartment never felt more alive. Plus, Jazz music was playing on the radio. He put down his dirty and dusty things. You heard it and called out his name. When you turned your face around to look at the kitchen door, he was already standing there, leaning on the doorway, smiling at you. You didn’t realize you were smiling, too.
“I knew it was you. I mean, who else could it be?” You said with delight in you, and you continued, “Look, James! I made spaghetti! I’m confident this time. I tasted the sauce a few times like you told me.” You took a small portion of the tomato sauce in the wooden spoon and walked over to James. “Come, have a taste!” Your excitement made you jiggle where you stood, and he noticed it. You fed him with the spoon. Your palm under his chin, as if you were feeding a small child his food.
He was hesitant, and perhaps, conscious about how close you were standing. He looked at the spoon and was supposed to taste the sauce, but you interrupted, “I forgot to blow it!” Then you immediately brought the spoon close to your lips and blew the sauce softly. He stared at you as you did so - smiling, and his gaze alternated from your eyes to your lips and went a little out of focus so he could look at the whole of your face. You realized that he was looking when you caught his eyes looking at yours. Then, you slowly brought the spoon back close to his face, in which you softly said, “Here. Should be cool enough.”
He didn’t say anything but smiled and gently held the hand that was holding the spoon, before taking a sip, and his gaze never left you. The skin on your hand had a tingling feeling at the touch of his rough one, but you realized your hand was involuntarily shaking a little, perhaps from all the cleaning and cooking you’ve been doing all afternoon. You swallowed in your throat and held your breath. He hasn’t been this close to your face, or your hand since the night of your wedding.
“Mm, that’s good meat sauce, doll,” he approved with a smile. If there was anyone who was a good cook, it was James, and at that moment, there was nobody else you wanted to show off your new cooking skill but him. “You got me starvin’ all of a sudden. I’ll take a quick shower and come down for dinner, ‘kay? Can’t be standing filthy and stinkin’ ‘round you.” He smiled and headed to the shower. You smiled back then went back to finish cooking. You prepared the table. And then, for a quick moment, you went to the hallway and looked at yourself in the mirror and fixed your hair, and then removed your apron.
Dinner was lovely, and you had James stuffed with your delicious spaghetti. You told him about the cookbook you bought and about the jobs you applied for that day. There was so much to talk about - so much to look forward to in the next few days, that for a long moment there, you didn’t think of Steve. Of course, he was always at the back of your mind, especially when you were so self-conscious about your growing tummy. But tonight, you did something for yourself and you achieved it on your own, and nobody could take that away from you.
The next morning, you received several reply letters from the companies you applied to the day before; each one practically rejecting your application. Before you got to the last letter, you thought to yourself that you would just have to apply for a job at a diner. Job-hunting was tough. But the last letter bore good news. The Bell Company called you for an interview. You didn’t know for what position yet, but at that point, any would do.
Your presence was called immediately, and so you rushed for the train and went to the Bell Tower. You arrived at the building at 9:45, but your turn came around at 11:00. A secretary ushered you to the Vice President’s office to meet a man named Brock Rumlow. You’ve never seen a man like Brock Rumlow before. He was wearing a suit, but you could still tell that he was muscular. Unlike most men in suits in New York, Brock Rumlow had handsome facial hair. His dark hair pulled nicely to the back. He greeted you formally.
“Well, Mrs. Barnes, you’re much younger than I expected. Please, have a seat.” He shook your hand and sat down. You shyly took your seat and maintained a calm composure. “I’ve looked at your references and...there’s pretty much...none.” You looked down hearing his remark.
“Nothing to worry, though. I know your story. Newly-wed, expecting a child and all that.” You were surprised that he knew, but you figured that the secretary must have told him. She got a bit chatty with you while you were waiting for your turn. “Where’s your husband now?”
“Oh, he’s working down at Central Park West. Construction.”
“Ah. Hardworking fellow. Good. You both must be pretty excited having your first child.”
You hesitated but smiled at him. “Yes, sir. He’s quite the family man, my husband. What about you? Any kids, Mr. Rumlow?” For a moment there, you couldn’t say where those words came from. It felt almost as if you were both there and out of it. One thing was certain to you: talking about your family made you feel uncomfortable.
“Me? Ah, no. Never been married. And please, call me Brock,” he said, his smile creating creases in his cheeks that made him more handsome. You smiled a little, then nodded. “Well, I understand you haven’t finished high school yet, but we don’t discriminate here at Bell Co. You’ll be put in a position where you will learn everything you’re going to do in your job. No need for prior experience, lucky for you.”
“What?” You asked with surprise and delight in your tone. He smiled nodding at you.
“You got the job, Mrs. Barnes.” He stood up and shook your hand. You asked him to call you by your name as you thanked him and shook back his hand. He asked you to come to work the following day and report under Mr. Fury in Operations.
You got home bearing the best news since the last time you remembered having one. You decided to visit James at work since it’s probably just about time for his lunch break. You took quite a walk trying to figure out where the construction site was. You managed to stop for some sandwiches you could bring to James. Besides, you were already starving from all that waiting for the interview.
Finally, you arrived at a construction site that looked block-wide judging from the heavy noise of the construction and the trucks and machines inside. It had a large tarpaulin around the barricades of the site and it read: Belleview Apartments. You were not certain, but it was about the right address, so you asked around for a James Barnes. The moment you mentioned his name, a woman repeated it, as if to confirm if she heard you right.
You turned around looking for that husky voice. Behind you stood a striking woman with red hair and the softest profile in a woman you’ve ever seen. Her lipstick was redder than her hair, and unlike the men in the construction site, there was no hint of dust or crumbs of lumber in her.
“Hi. Natasha Romanov. I’m the Man around here - if you know what I mean.” She reached out to shake your hand and you reached back to shake it and return the smile. “I see you’re looking for Barnes. Are you his sister?” You smiled, pretending it wasn’t awkward to say the next few words.
“No, umm..I’m his wife.” You smiled shyly. One of Ms. Romanov’s eyebrows raised as she looked at you from head to toe as quickly as she could.
“Ah, the famous Mrs. Barnes. Pleasure to meet you. You’re just in time. The men will come down to have their lunch in five minutes. I suggest you wait here.”
“Of course. Thank you, Ms. Romanov. Um, there’re so many workers here. You know everyone?” You asked curiously as you observed the site around you.
“Almost everyone. But mostly those who stand out, you know? Your husband is one of them. He usually keeps to himself, but he’s got a mind in there. Never a dull moment with him,” She said with a smile.
“Yes, he is,” was all you could say.
“Well, I better not waste your time and tell him his cute wife is here. Excuse me, Ms. Barnes.” You exchanged smiles then she left you standing near the entrance of the site, just under the roofed booth where the workers timed in and out. It was the second time that day that you were addressed with your new last name. It felt strange, still. And sometimes both James’ and Steve’s faces would pop in your head when somebody calls you by your new last name.
Among the crowd of men, it took a minute for you to spot James, and when you did, he has already spotted you. He smiled and waved at you. He yelled your name. That charming smile still hasn’t been erased from his face. You waved back and then he ran towards you.
“Natasha told me you were here,” he said with a smile. “How are you?” You noticed he was almost going to give you a kiss on the cheek, but all he managed was brushing a finger on your elbow. “Are you ok? Is it the baby?” He caught his breath, so you asked him to cool down. With a delighted smile, you said:
“I’m ok, James. I brought us lunch. Could we sit somewhere private?”
“Yo, Barnes! That your wife? She’s a looker,” remarked James’s workmate.
“Hey, you ever learn to shut up?” He hissed at the guy without hesitation.
“Hey,” You softly called.
“What? He was hittin’ on you.” Just like that, the smile on his face was replaced by furrowed brows and clenching jaws. “I never liked that guy. Come on, let’s sit in the park.” He took you to a nearby bench just by the entrance of the park. There, you told him your big news. He congratulated you excitedly. That smile was back there again, and his eyes twinkled when they looked at you.
“They’re putting me in operations. I think I’ll be answering phone calls and transferring people through lines, you know?”
“Yeah, I can imagine. Just good you won’t be runnin’ ‘round fetchin’ random stuff or somethin’. Wouldn’t want you moving more than you should.” You gave him a smile.
“I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’m pretty excited.” There was a pause as you both ate your sandwiches. “So...this Miss Romanov woman...she’s very pretty. She Russian?”
“Yeah. Think she grew up ‘ere. Can’t hear any Russian accent from ‘er,” he remarked as he kept a portion of the sandwich in one side of his mouth. “She’s pretty popular among the men. Obviously. But she’s no ordinary dame, y’know. No guy could fool that woman. She’s like, the most together woman I’ve ever known, y’know?”
You chuckled softly. “You two close?” He snorted and then laughed.
“Nah, I don’t think so. I mean, she’s not like most girls I meet. She’s pretty cool, but we’re not that close.” After a short pause, he asked, “Why? You jealous?” He was grinning when you looked at him.
“Haha, very funny, James. Can’t a girl wonder? Besides, she said you stood out among the men. That must’ve counted for somethin’. Maybe she likes you.”
“OK, look. I know you and I are friends, doll. But you gotta stop this, okay?” He held your wrist gently. “I don’t know what you’re thinking. Maybe you’re just bein’ nice and all. But this ain’t helpin’ either of us. We’re married now. It’s complicated as it is. We can’t -”
“I know. I’m sorry...I just didn’t want you to be unhappy. You know, if there’s someone you liked or somebody you wanted to date, I wouldn’t stop you...just because we’re married. And Miss Romanov - Natasha, it’d be a waste if you two liked each other and you’re here stuck with me.”
“And what, have an affair with her while being married to you?” He joked. “Trust me, doll. She don’t like me like that,” he said with a smile. “Now, let’s just eat in peace.”
To be continued in
Chapter Six - The City (Part Two)
If your name has a strikethrough, it means you can’t be tagged. Please try THIS.
Everything tag list: (Please let me know if you don’t wanna be tagged on this fic.)
@bojabee @jurrasicpork @thejourneyofabrokenheart @sav625 @seninjakitey @randomparanoid @jbarnes87
The Last Dance tag list:
@vehement-photgraphy @duns-fxr-hands @veg-gay-tarian @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @girlwith100names @theonelittleone @spidey-babe-parker @hiddles-rose @allithewriter @depressedcoffeebean @nerd-without-a-cause @jaamesbbarnes @tatertot1097 @ferrelly @kgcurtis30 @wxshes-kxsses @asukascoffeeramblings @sebs-manbun @keldachick @ferrelly
