“His Part to Play” - 6. Stag Night
Apr. 18th, 2020 10:34 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
breakinglight11Forever Captain:
“His Part to Play”
By Phoebe Roberts
~~~
Summary: “Steve Rogers has retired to the 1940s to build a new life with Peggy. In leaving behind the mantle of Captain America, at last he’s got a measure of peace. Still, Steve will never stop feeling the responsibility to step up as a hero— except he's not sure how much power his actions have at this point in the timeline. Somehow he must reconcile his new life and identity with the responsibility and burden of being a hero out of time.”
Previous chapters:
1. Lost Time
2. Building
3. Reaching
4. Bonds
5. Ghost
Chapter summary: Steve and Peggy are going to get married. But first, Howard and Jarvis take him out to celebrate.
“His Part to Play”
By Phoebe Roberts
~~~
Summary: “Steve Rogers has retired to the 1940s to build a new life with Peggy. In leaving behind the mantle of Captain America, at last he’s got a measure of peace. Still, Steve will never stop feeling the responsibility to step up as a hero— except he's not sure how much power his actions have at this point in the timeline. Somehow he must reconcile his new life and identity with the responsibility and burden of being a hero out of time.”
Previous chapters:
1. Lost Time
2. Building
3. Reaching
4. Bonds
5. Ghost
Chapter summary: Steve and Peggy are going to get married. But first, Howard and Jarvis take him out to celebrate.
~~~
6. Stag Night
Howard insisted on taking him out for a bachelor party. Steve should have known it was coming and prepared, but Howard would not be swayed. He deflected Steve’s objections one by one with the deftness of a tennis champ.
“I don’t know, Howard, do we have to?”
“You’re getting married, aren’t you? What kind of pal would I be if I let you go to your execution without a last meal?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That I’m going to take you out and we’re going to do it up right.”
Steve didn’t like the sound of that. “Couldn’t we just go to a ball game or something?”
“For your last time out as a free man? Come on!”
“How about fishing?”
“Are you kidding me? Were you always this dull, Rogers?”
“Probably. I used to jump out of planes, though. I think that might have confused you.”
“Well, in that case, thank God you have me.” He patted Steve’s cheek, in a manner Steve presumed he was supposed to find reassuring. “Don’t worry your pretty head about it. I’ll take care of everything.”
The wedding was Sunday, so he set it for the Friday beforehand to ensure nobody showed up too worse for wear on the day itself. Peggy listened with amusement when he told her Howard was making plans. “Don’t suppose you can forbid me going out?” he asked hopefully, but she just laughed and shook her head.
“Afraid not, soldier. So suit up, you’re going in.” Her lips curled mischievously. “You’re going to have to behave all on your own.”
He rolled his eyes. “Because God knows Stark won’t be any help.”
“Help? He’ll be a hundred percent liability.” She licked her finger and turned the page of her magazine with a flick. “Remember, we never a man behind.”
Jarvis arrived at his apartment building to collect him, with Howard waiting in the car. Steve sighed in resignation on sight of him. “Don’t suppose you could tell him I’ve got a cold or something?”
“I doubt that would deter him now,” Jarvis said. “He’s already halfway through a flask.”
Steve grumbled. “Give it to me straight, then. How bad is this going to be?”
“I managed to talk him out of the, ah— gentleman’s club. He countered with just one girl who’d come out of a cake. When I reminded him what Agent Carter would do to him if he got you into trouble, he mercifully saw reason. I believe we’re down to drinks and a show, though I can’t guarantee your safety beyond that.”
Howard paid a valet to take the car in front of a basement level nightclub. The place was warm in every sense, from the décor, to the low lighting, to the press of snazzy-looking people clustered at round tables before a heavy-curtained stage. The show turned out to be a burlesque, with such lighthearted cheeky acts that, compared with the average twenty-first century music video, it seemed downright quaint. When the girls weren’t dancing, they were threading their way between the tables with drink orders and cigarette trays. Not exactly Steve’s speed, but it was pleasantly lively.
“And here I was afraid you were taking me someplace unsavory,” he joked to Howard. “But now I’m just worried I’m underdressed.”
“What are you talking about? This is a classy place!” He gestured vaguely to the far wall. “I’ve seen Ingrid Bergman in the VIP booth.”
With a raised eyebrow, Steve glanced to Jarvis, who shrugged. “Couldn’t say, I’m afraid. But it did look very like her.”
Howard ordered them three whiskeys straight, from a staff who seemed to know him there. Honestly Steve would have preferred a beer, but it reminded him of strongly of his son would do it over half a century later, and he was content to let Howard show him a good time. Jarvis hadn’t been kidding when he said Stark had started celebrating early, and before long the man had loosened his tie and was laughing entirely too hard at Steve’s jokes as well as his own. Jarvis took it slow, but even he was growing pleasantly mellow. By the time they began a spirited debate over who had the best fastball in the Yankee bullpen this season, Steve was actually enjoying himself.
At least until Howard, distractible at the best of times, had his attention yanked away by something over Jarvis’s shoulder. He gestured enthusiastically, and Steve turned to see one of the girls waiting tables had caught his friend’s eye. She was dressed like a saloon girl out of some kind of cheesy western, carrying a tray with empty glasses back to the bar, but rerouted at Howard’s summons in their direction. When she got close, Howard tucked a folded bill into her hand and tugged her toward Steve. “Got a minute for my pal here? He’s got one week left to live!”
Steve dredged up a smile as the waitress looked him over in that way women often did, as if they couldn’t quite believe this was where their day had gone. He noted her name, Mabel, was written on a name tag pinned on her bustier, a detail Steve found vaguely absurd.
“Hey there, tall drink of water,” Mabel said, eyes still making their climb all the way up him. “I happen to know there’s a good song coming up.”
He shook his head, and took a seat up against the bar with her, as Howard dragged off Jarvis and withdrew. “I’ll buy you a drink, but I’m not much of a dancer. And I’m spoken for, I’m afraid.”
“Of course you are.” She sighed, hiking her skirt to sit on the next stool over. “All the good ones are taken or dead.”
She said it as a joke, but he heard something buried in her tone. “You lose somebody in the service?”
“Not a sweetheart, if that’s what you’re getting at. But I got to know a lot of pretty decent boys who never came back.” She waved her hand as if realizing something, and hastened to explain. “I used to be a USO girl.”
He couldn’t keep his eyebrows from raising. “Really.” It took everything he had to keep from saying “Me too.” “Where’d they send you?”
“Pacific theater, mostly. Never got on a plane before. Now I hope I never see one again.”
“Happy to be home, then?”
Mabel tipped her head from side to side. “As much as anybody is. I do miss feeling like I was doing my part for something that mattered. If dancing for a bunch of roughnecks counts.”
Steve recognized that feeling— he’d highjacked a plane and went on a one-man rescue mission in France over it. “We all did what we could, where we could.”
“I suppose. But my sister Carla’s a nurse. She was in a field hospital in Nimes and actually saved folk’s lives. Not sure kick lines measure up compared to that.” She flapped her hand at him. “And look at you! Big fellow like you, you probably were carrying boys out of burning tanks one over each shoulder.”
He laughed. “Did what I could. Sometimes two over each shoulder.”
“Do you miss it? Feeling useful?”
“I served because it was the right thing to do. Not because I wanted to be a soldier.” That had been true since day he enlisted to the moment he decided to lay down the shield. “And there’s got to be ways to pitch in without the world being at war.”
Mabel smiled. “Guess that makes sense. Nobody can get shot at forever.” She considered, pulling at the glove on her left hand. “Would you do it again? If you had to?”
“Enlist in the service? Yeah. If I had to do it all over again, I would.”
“That’s not quite what I meant.” He was about to ask her what she did mean, but she glanced down at the tiny face of a watch on a chain from her pocket. “But I’d better get back on the floor. They like to keep us moving.”
He stood and reached out to shake her hand. “Thanks for the chat.”
She took it, with only a moment’s pause to chuckle. “Right back at you.” She glanced over his shoulder, to where Howard and Jarvis were sitting. “Tell your pals over there hello for me— and not to be too disappointed in you.”
Steve tossed a few bucks on the bar, then made his way back to the table.
~~~
Next chapter: 7. Wingmen
6. Stag Night
Howard insisted on taking him out for a bachelor party. Steve should have known it was coming and prepared, but Howard would not be swayed. He deflected Steve’s objections one by one with the deftness of a tennis champ.
“I don’t know, Howard, do we have to?”
“You’re getting married, aren’t you? What kind of pal would I be if I let you go to your execution without a last meal?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That I’m going to take you out and we’re going to do it up right.”
Steve didn’t like the sound of that. “Couldn’t we just go to a ball game or something?”
“For your last time out as a free man? Come on!”
“How about fishing?”
“Are you kidding me? Were you always this dull, Rogers?”
“Probably. I used to jump out of planes, though. I think that might have confused you.”
“Well, in that case, thank God you have me.” He patted Steve’s cheek, in a manner Steve presumed he was supposed to find reassuring. “Don’t worry your pretty head about it. I’ll take care of everything.”
The wedding was Sunday, so he set it for the Friday beforehand to ensure nobody showed up too worse for wear on the day itself. Peggy listened with amusement when he told her Howard was making plans. “Don’t suppose you can forbid me going out?” he asked hopefully, but she just laughed and shook her head.
“Afraid not, soldier. So suit up, you’re going in.” Her lips curled mischievously. “You’re going to have to behave all on your own.”
He rolled his eyes. “Because God knows Stark won’t be any help.”
“Help? He’ll be a hundred percent liability.” She licked her finger and turned the page of her magazine with a flick. “Remember, we never a man behind.”
Jarvis arrived at his apartment building to collect him, with Howard waiting in the car. Steve sighed in resignation on sight of him. “Don’t suppose you could tell him I’ve got a cold or something?”
“I doubt that would deter him now,” Jarvis said. “He’s already halfway through a flask.”
Steve grumbled. “Give it to me straight, then. How bad is this going to be?”
“I managed to talk him out of the, ah— gentleman’s club. He countered with just one girl who’d come out of a cake. When I reminded him what Agent Carter would do to him if he got you into trouble, he mercifully saw reason. I believe we’re down to drinks and a show, though I can’t guarantee your safety beyond that.”
Howard paid a valet to take the car in front of a basement level nightclub. The place was warm in every sense, from the décor, to the low lighting, to the press of snazzy-looking people clustered at round tables before a heavy-curtained stage. The show turned out to be a burlesque, with such lighthearted cheeky acts that, compared with the average twenty-first century music video, it seemed downright quaint. When the girls weren’t dancing, they were threading their way between the tables with drink orders and cigarette trays. Not exactly Steve’s speed, but it was pleasantly lively.
“And here I was afraid you were taking me someplace unsavory,” he joked to Howard. “But now I’m just worried I’m underdressed.”
“What are you talking about? This is a classy place!” He gestured vaguely to the far wall. “I’ve seen Ingrid Bergman in the VIP booth.”
With a raised eyebrow, Steve glanced to Jarvis, who shrugged. “Couldn’t say, I’m afraid. But it did look very like her.”
Howard ordered them three whiskeys straight, from a staff who seemed to know him there. Honestly Steve would have preferred a beer, but it reminded him of strongly of his son would do it over half a century later, and he was content to let Howard show him a good time. Jarvis hadn’t been kidding when he said Stark had started celebrating early, and before long the man had loosened his tie and was laughing entirely too hard at Steve’s jokes as well as his own. Jarvis took it slow, but even he was growing pleasantly mellow. By the time they began a spirited debate over who had the best fastball in the Yankee bullpen this season, Steve was actually enjoying himself.
At least until Howard, distractible at the best of times, had his attention yanked away by something over Jarvis’s shoulder. He gestured enthusiastically, and Steve turned to see one of the girls waiting tables had caught his friend’s eye. She was dressed like a saloon girl out of some kind of cheesy western, carrying a tray with empty glasses back to the bar, but rerouted at Howard’s summons in their direction. When she got close, Howard tucked a folded bill into her hand and tugged her toward Steve. “Got a minute for my pal here? He’s got one week left to live!”
Steve dredged up a smile as the waitress looked him over in that way women often did, as if they couldn’t quite believe this was where their day had gone. He noted her name, Mabel, was written on a name tag pinned on her bustier, a detail Steve found vaguely absurd.
“Hey there, tall drink of water,” Mabel said, eyes still making their climb all the way up him. “I happen to know there’s a good song coming up.”
He shook his head, and took a seat up against the bar with her, as Howard dragged off Jarvis and withdrew. “I’ll buy you a drink, but I’m not much of a dancer. And I’m spoken for, I’m afraid.”
“Of course you are.” She sighed, hiking her skirt to sit on the next stool over. “All the good ones are taken or dead.”
She said it as a joke, but he heard something buried in her tone. “You lose somebody in the service?”
“Not a sweetheart, if that’s what you’re getting at. But I got to know a lot of pretty decent boys who never came back.” She waved her hand as if realizing something, and hastened to explain. “I used to be a USO girl.”
He couldn’t keep his eyebrows from raising. “Really.” It took everything he had to keep from saying “Me too.” “Where’d they send you?”
“Pacific theater, mostly. Never got on a plane before. Now I hope I never see one again.”
“Happy to be home, then?”
Mabel tipped her head from side to side. “As much as anybody is. I do miss feeling like I was doing my part for something that mattered. If dancing for a bunch of roughnecks counts.”
Steve recognized that feeling— he’d highjacked a plane and went on a one-man rescue mission in France over it. “We all did what we could, where we could.”
“I suppose. But my sister Carla’s a nurse. She was in a field hospital in Nimes and actually saved folk’s lives. Not sure kick lines measure up compared to that.” She flapped her hand at him. “And look at you! Big fellow like you, you probably were carrying boys out of burning tanks one over each shoulder.”
He laughed. “Did what I could. Sometimes two over each shoulder.”
“Do you miss it? Feeling useful?”
“I served because it was the right thing to do. Not because I wanted to be a soldier.” That had been true since day he enlisted to the moment he decided to lay down the shield. “And there’s got to be ways to pitch in without the world being at war.”
Mabel smiled. “Guess that makes sense. Nobody can get shot at forever.” She considered, pulling at the glove on her left hand. “Would you do it again? If you had to?”
“Enlist in the service? Yeah. If I had to do it all over again, I would.”
“That’s not quite what I meant.” He was about to ask her what she did mean, but she glanced down at the tiny face of a watch on a chain from her pocket. “But I’d better get back on the floor. They like to keep us moving.”
He stood and reached out to shake her hand. “Thanks for the chat.”
She took it, with only a moment’s pause to chuckle. “Right back at you.” She glanced over his shoulder, to where Howard and Jarvis were sitting. “Tell your pals over there hello for me— and not to be too disappointed in you.”
Steve tossed a few bucks on the bar, then made his way back to the table.
~~~
Next chapter: 7. Wingmen
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