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romaniassexdungeon · 4 years

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Third Option - chapter 9

Pairing: Spamano, AusHun

João - Portugal Logan - Australia Hunapo - New Zealand Arjun - India

Notes: Yes, I know this is late, but I had a degree to work on, and now that’s out of the way, I’ll hopefully get more updates out. I also went back and polished what I had even more, so hopefully it’s a little less bad. I also changed Monaco’s name to Céline.

Read on AO3

...

The streets were busy as Lovino led his family to that rickety old cafe. There were people all around them, going to their real jobs. He led the others in a tight knot, heads down and minding their own business. They were going to work too, no need to arouse suspicion. No one really paid them attention. After all, everyone had their own lives to be getting on with. Lovino kept his eyes forward, not saying a word, and almost everyone else seemed to get the message.

“So, who we meetin’?” asked Alfred in his ear, “anyone we know?”

Francis shushed him. “Really? Right now?”

Alfred huffed, quietening down for a few minutes. Lovino followed the river path, up to a set of narrow stairs. It led to a higher street, more open, with houses that were larger and neater than most of the Iron district, but not by much. The road was a little wider here, and Lovino enjoyed a view of part of the Iron district, stretched out below on the other side of the river. From a distance, the place looked even more depressing: masses of crooked houses packed together, no grand buildings breaking the skyline.

Alfred chewed his lip. “So, who told you about it?”

Francis flicked his ear. “I swear to fuck if you don’t shut up, you’re going to work instead.”

Lovino turned a corner and the cafe came into view. He shushed the group and crossed the square. Certain they were alone, he slipped inside.

There was welcome shade in the cafe, empty except for Heracles watching them from the counter, seemingly stunned at the numbers. Lovino gave a nod, and Heracles jerked his head towards the back room. He led them down to the cellar in silence, and even Alfred seemed to get the idea. Through the trapdoor, down into darkness and along the corridor to the main hall they went. Inside, fewer than ten people sat and stood talking in groups.

“Wait here for Sadik,” said Heracles, “he’ll want to talk to the new people.” He turned and left without another word.

Xavier waved them over. “You made it!” He was leaning on the stage at the back of the room, where the others soon joined him. Xavier’s cousin was with him, with his golden tan, goofy grin, full nose and mop of curly hair. Lovino hadn’t seen him in a while, remembering an awkward, lanky teen. Now he was toned and curved and surprisingly handsome. He didn’t bother with the buttons of his floral shirt, apparently, tucking it into his shorts, and the style looked good on him. “You remember Antonio, right?”

Lovino nodded. “So, you dragged your family into this too?” It was as good a place as any to start.

Xavier laughed. “Toni wouldn’t shut up about the whole thing. Had to bring him or he’d tell my parents.” He shoved him. “Fucking narc.”

“It’s my job to keep you out of trouble,” said Antonio. Lovino remembered him being a bit overbearing, strict, even, with Xavier. Strange, really, he seemed so laid-back normally.

“By getting in trouble with me?” Xavier scoffed. "João is gonna be here too. He just had work today."

“Of course I'm getting into trouble;” Antonio pulled Francis into a firm hug. “Good to see you!”

“Likewise,” Francis kissed both his cheeks, “nice to know I’m in trusted company. Feels a little safer with you around.”

“Not many people,” Céline commented, glancing around. There was Tino, and Lovino recognised his two friends from the rally with him, huddled together in the corner. Kiku and Arthur were in deep conversation, looking over papers at the table. At the other end of the stage, two very strange men sat talking intensely. One looked a little like a rat, the other looked like a depressed pile of ash.

“Hey, it’s a start,” said Alfred. “We’ve nearly doubled it.” Other people had noticed too, and were staring at them with interest. Lovino wasn’t sure what to make of the attention. But he was proud of himself. Who else here had recruited 4 other people?

“What happens next?” asked Céline.

“It’s sorta like an interview,” Antonio explained, “Sadik just asks you about your motivations, and what you can do to help. Nothing too scary.” He looked at her. “Let me guess. Gilbert?” She nodded. “Yes, of course, it was part of the reason I wanted to join, why I insisted;” Antonio gave a sigh. “He was a good friend. I’m so, so sorry for your loss.” His smile was back before a melancholy look could even settle. “I know you will make his death mean something,” he kissed her hand, stooping down to reach her.

“Thank you, Antonio. I will.”

“Lovino!” Antonio finally turned to him, “it’s been too long! Look how much you’ve grown!” He ruffled his hair.

“Hey, watch it!” He gently held him back. “Personal space, my friend.”

“Course, course! Sorry.”

“Well, you two seem to have spirit!” Sadik strode into the room, holding the door to a side room open for two people Lovino didn’t recognise. “I like that, Logan, Hunapo. I hope you’ll make me proud, here.”

“Oh we will,” said the taller one, an absolute tank of a man with messy hair and a cocky grin. Logan, apparently.

“You’ve made a good choice,” said a smaller, scruffy mess of curled hair. Hunapo. Both names weren't that familiar.

“I hope I have,” Sadik nudged them, “not that we can afford to be fussy.”

“That why you signed me up?” asked Rat-man, through a mouthful of beans. He was sat cross-legged on the stage, a can balanced on one pointy knee.

“Well, I didn’t wanna say anything, but…” Sadik noticed the new arrivals. “Hey, Lovino, right? Who are all these people?”

“Relatives,” he said in a small voice. Sadik intimidated him, and, for some reason, he felt desperate not to let him down. Maybe it was because he reminded him of Grandpa Janus?

“Well done lad!” Sadik boomed, hands on his hips, “you must have some way with words!” And just like praise from Grandpa Janus, Lovino found himself elated that he’d made Sadik proud. He wanted to do more, earn more validation.

Francis whistled. “So you’re Sadik Adnan? Your reputation precedes you.”

Sadik laughed. “Already?”

“Well, I remember hearing about what happened last time. Never got involved,” he coughed, “might’ve been for the best.”

“Well, you’re not wrong. Things will go better, though. I’m older, and hopefully a little wiser now. But I can’t do it alone.” He motioned to the side room. “Please, step into my office, and we can talk more.”

When the Bonnefoys followed him inside, Antonio turned back to Lovino and Xavier. “So, Lovi, I hear you finished school too. Look at the pair of you! All grown up!”

“Yeah, a grown-up adult, so roll back on the patronising.”

Antonio laughed. “Alright. Still older, though. I want a bit of respect.”

“Because you came out the pussy two years before me?”

“Let’s not talk about my mum like that.”

“I’d like to meet your mum one day. Can you introduce us?”

“Toni’d like to meet his dad one day,” muttered Xavier, giggling at his own joke. Antonio didn’t look so impressed.

“You can be quiet!”

“His birth certificate has a question mark under “father’s name”. I’ve seen it.”

“Stop telling people that or I’ll punch you in the tit!”

Lovino burst out laughing. “Don’t worry, Toni, my dad walked out too. Who needs the rat bastards? Better off without them.”

Xavier looked between them. “How the fuck do you keep losing dads? This is the last outpost of civilisation, and there’s a giant wall around the city. They can’t have gone far, guys. Find the fuckers!”

Even Antonio had to laugh at that. Lovino leaned against the stage. “Xavi, if it was that easy, Grandpa would’ve tracked the sonnovabitch down and throttled him.” His earliest memory was Grandpa Janus pacing the main room and loudly planning to do such a thing. Ah, childhood memories.

“Speaking of Lovino’s family, they seem nice!” Xavier peered over at Sadik’s office.

“They’re alright, I guess. Céline’s my favourite.”

“They’re hot.”

“I hate you so much.”

Xavier burst out laughing. “I love you too.”

“Hey, don’t worry,” Antonio rubbed Lovino’s shoulder, “you’re not so bad to look at yourself.”

Lovino looked at him. “Is this a joke or-?”

“No! I swear-”

“Good. Because I know I’m hot, and you should know too. And you’re…” he blushed, “you’re kinda okay too, but don’t go on about it.”

“Aww, thank you!”

“I wish someone would tell me I’m hot,” said Xavier whistfully.

“You’re hot, now lemme motorboat you.” Lovino buried his face in Xavier’s chest and blew a raspberry. Xavier almost passed out from laughing.

“Finally, things are getting interesting!” called Rat Man.

“What’s getting interesting, Alin?” Sadik stepped out of his office, followed by the Bonnefoys. Lovino pulled away from Xavier’s chest, looking a little sheepish.

Alin shrugged, licking sauce off a bean with his pointy tongue. “I just thought we were all gonna touch on each other.”

Sadik looked at him. No one said anything for a long moment. “We’re not going to do that.”

“Then what was the point in joining up here?”

Sadik ignored him, instead addressing the group as a whole. “Anyway, it’s nice to see our numbers rising. We’re starting to establish links with the remnants of the old guard, and finding new faces willing to hear us out. Of course, we have a long way to go, and we’ll need a way of getting our message across without incriminating ourselves.” He clapped his hands, “but today, we’ll just focus on educating you all, and starting you on some basic weapons training. Tino here is going to teach you to hold a gun, and fire it straight.”

Lovino and Xavier exchanged looks of glee.

...

Up at the top of the city, on Rex Hill, sat the Palace, whose walls were hugged by the river on three sides. The fourth stretched out in front of the Golden Square, now empty of subjects. Inside the walls were the gardens, with winding paths touring through meticulously cared-for flowers. Water from the river fed into the gardens, creating a lush oasis in the centre of the arid city. The palace itself towered over everything, even allowing the residents to catch a glimpse of the desert beyond the city walls. The music room was near the centre of the palace, with thick walls and high windows kept close to keep the room’s secrets. There were a variety of instruments, kept polished by one of the servants. There was also a fat sofa, near the grand piano at the centre of the room.

Roderich ignored everything around him and focused only on the keys in front of his eyes. He played with all his might, played for his anger, played for his hatred, love, everything that pulsed through his body. Yes, music was illegal but Roderich relished in breaking his own rules. After all, who was going to stop him? Roderich played on, letting the music vibrate through him, words he didn’t know how to express, words that didn’t exist. It was a song his mother wrote, before the madness took her.

He finished his piece and turned his attention to Érzsebét, his Empress, his Queen, who was sprawled out on the sofa in a light, lacy dress. Her hair was splayed everywhere, thick and curly. She stood up, clapping and running over to him. ‘“Brilliant, darling, just marvellous!” They shared a kiss.

“Thank you, dear.” He held her gently, running his fingers through her hair. He’d often heard this absurd rumour he was evil. That he was a monster incapable of love. People had the gall to scream it at him, the worst last words he could think of. Was there not something more productive to say at a time like that? It wasn’t true, anyway. If he wasn’t capable of love, then what did he feel for Érzsebét? For their son? It was simple, really. But still, they said he was evil and a curse on the world. The thought made him shake with a malicious, uncontrollable rage.

“Roddy,” said Érzsebét, gently, but firmly, “you’re squeezing me.”

“Érzsebét! Oh, I’m so sorry!” He pulled away. “Are you hurt?” She shook her head. “You know I could never hurt you. I’d sooner die.”

Érzsebét smirked. “Oh, I know. Like you could, anyway.” Neither could, and neither had ever. Érzsebét was loyal to her Emperor, and Roderich worshipped Érzsebét in return. Not only did he love her, but he owed his life to her.

They’d met when they were seven years old, already betrothed and destined to rule. She was the daughter of a noble, chosen as a suitable match for Roderich, despite her unruly nature. Roderich had developed a reputation of being a selfish and downright cruel child. He was, but not around Érzsebét. He shared his toys with her, and followed her around as she plotted out adventures for them both. When it came to play fights, she refused to let him win, and Roderich didn’t throw tantrums over losing, instead begging her to teach him to be stronger.

And then it happened. The incident. They were ten, going for a cycle through the palace gardens. He remembered the scent of the plants, the pollen in his hair and the breeze. He remembered Érzsebét’s embroidered shirt and the mud on her boots. He remembered her laugh, and how he’d push his glasses up his nose before explaining the different species of flower. He even picked a large, pink one to put in her hair.

The two took a break under the shade of a tree, and it happened. Érzsebét was looking off in the distance, while Roderich leaned against the trunk catching his breath. Out of the blue, Érzsebét tackled him, launching them both into the flower bed as the ground erupted. Gunshots rained down on them, some dangerously near their mark, but the children were hidden in the bushes. Roderich wanted to cry out, but Érzsebét covered his mouth. He remembered being paralysed, time standing still until the palace guards arrived and returned fire on the assassin.

Yes, it had been an assassin; not a professional, most likely, just someone who wanted to leave the empire without an heir, someone with a grudge against the royals. Roderich had never left the palace walls since. It had taken years to build up the courage to go in the gardens, only when security had been tightened and the wall was heavily guarded. Whilst he wouldn’t control Érzsebét, he had suggested she do the same once they were married, and she agreed. Franz had been forbidden from leaving the palace.

After another assassin was more successful in killing his father, Roderich had ascended the throne a hurricane of grief and any hope that he would be a more benevolent ruler soon squashed.

“Roddy, come back to me,” Érzsebét stroked his cheek, “you’re far away.”

Roderich shook himself. “Sorry, sorry.”

The doors flung open as General Zwingli marched in. “Sir-”

Roderich slammed his hand on the piano. “How many times do I have to warn you about knocking?” He thundered, “the music room is private!”

General Zwingli didn’t appear disturbed. “I understand, but this is urgent. A small council is being summoned.”

“I see.” Roderich glanced at Érzsebét, who gave a nod. “We will go to the board room immediately.” They left the music room, following Zwingli through airy hallways, past the portraits of the five previous Emperors and platinum columns between arches looking down on the gardens.

“Where is my son?” Roderich spoke in a low voice, “does this concern him?”

“He is in the company of Lady Biedermann,” Zwingli replied, “perfectly safe. No, this is a greater problem, and affects us all.”

Roderich wrinkled his nose, “there is nothing greater than the prince. But the situation sounds grave indeed.”

“‘Tis, I’m afraid.” Zwingli rounded a corner and opened the door to the board room, holding it for the royal couple. The council members summoned were sat at one end of a heavy table, only three: Feilks, Arjun and Yao, whose job was to advise him and keep him informed on the goings-on of the city he refused to set foot in.

Roderich made his way to the end of the table, sitting on a simple throne while Érzsebét and Zwingli took their seats. “So,” he began, “what have you got to tell me? What was so important I had to be summoned? I’m assuming, by your small numbers, it’s to be kept on a need-to-know basis.” He slipped a hand into his robes, where he kept a tiny pistol. Just in case. He didn’t want history repeating itself.

“For now,” began Yao, “we need to plan carefully before this gets out. And who knows who we can trust anymore.”

“So, what’s going on?”

“The news that… well…” Feliks avoided his glare.

“Spit it out.”

“An undercover officer claims to have spotted notorious criminal Sadik Adnan wandering the Iron District last night. If he’s reentered the city, this could spell bad news for us.”

Roderich scratched his chin. “Sadik Adnan? Why should that name bother me?”

“He was one of the last people sent into exile,” said Yao. "Oğuzhan's son."

“And he’s still alive?” Roderich glared at Zwingli.

Zwingli waved a hand. “The exile programme was run by Väinämöinen. It was a soft option that let people slip through. That was why I replaced it. Besides, having suspect individuals in the city is a far more efficient method of keeping track of them.”

“But how did he re-enter the city?”

“No one knows,” said Feliks.

“Is he alone?”

“Possibly. But he’d have had allies inside the city. Someone must've helped him.”

Roderich groaned. “And do we know what his motives are?”

“No,” said Arjun, “but, we can guess what might happen, if he’s planning to carry on his father’s legacy…”

“Well, find him!” Roderich smacked his hand on the table, “find him, and all his associates! Hunt him down until there’s nowhere left to run! And let it be known that, if anyone is caught harbouring or collaborating with him, they will face the death penalty.”

“So we let the news get out?” asked Zwingli, “to the citizens?”

“Yes. We need the whole city on our side. Put a price on his head, and people will give us information. And I want crackdowns, too. Implement a curfew for a week, conduct raids on any possible allies.”

Zwingli nodded. “I’ll pull up a list of persons of interest. Anyone known to the law.”

“Good man.” Roderich stood up. “I want him dead by the end of the week.” He left the room.

Érzsebét got up. “Do what you can,” she told everyone, “and don’t let us down.” She followed her husband out.

The council sat in stunned silence, then Zwingli spoke. “Well, you heard the emperor. Feliks, I want a broadcast drafted for this evening and sent to City Radio. Yao, contact Mr Honda and get wanted posters ready for tomorrow. Send them to Arjun for printing. I want this man found!”

Everyone nodded and scrambled up. The meeting was over, and they all had work to do. Leaving Zwingli to organise the raids, Feliks strode down the hall to one of the offices. Yao paused for a moment, then started making his way outside.

“Hey, Yao!” Arjun quickly caught up with him. “Wanna walk home together?”

“Course, might as well,” Yao gave a polite smile. He and Arjun were… well, they’d known each other a long time. Perhaps too long. He was fond of Arjun, Yao supposed, most of the time.

“And you’re busy tonight, then?”

“Yes. You heard.”

“Well, if we’re both on poster duty, we might as well visit Mr Honda together, right? I’ve yet to see the man at work myself.”

“Of course,” Yao held the front door open for him, nodding to the guards swarming the place. “The man’s exceptional; you’ll be in for a treat.”

#spamano #aph cuba #aph romano #aph spain #aph france #aph america #aph austria #aph hungary #aushun #aph turkey #aph switzerland #aph china #aph india #aph poland #aph monaco #aph canada #the third option #aph fanfiction

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imjustthemechanic · 6 years

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Natalie Jones and the Golden Ship

Part 1/? - A Meeting at the Palace Part 2/? - Curry Talk Part 3/? - Princess Sitamun Part 4/? - Not At Rest Part 5/? - Dead Men Tell no Tales Part 6/? - Sitamun Rises Again Part 7/? - The Curse of Madame Desrosiers Part 8/? - Sabotage at Guedelon Part 9/? - A Miracle Part 10/? - Desrosiers’ Elixir Part 11/? - Athens in October Part 12/? - The Man in Black Part 13/? - Mr. Neustadt Part 14/? - The Other Side of the Story Part 15/? - A Favour Part 16/? - A Knock on the Window Part 17/? - Sir Stephen and Buckeye Part 18/? - Books of Alchemy Part 19/? - The Answers Part 20/? - A Gift Left Behind Part 21/? - Santorini Part 22/? - What the Doves Found Part 23/? - A Thief in the Night Part 24/? - Healing Part 25/? - Newton’s Code Part 26/? - Montenegro Part 27/? - The Lost Relic Part 28/? - The Homunculinus Part 29/? - The End is Near Part 30/? - The Face of Evil Part 31/? - The Morning After

Awkward.

It was a very unexpected question, and after asking it, Jim winced and gritted his teeth as if afraid Nat was about to throw him over the city wall into Bocca Bay. Maybe he was – and maybe that was why Natasha laughed out loud. Or maybe she laughed because that was easily the most self-consciously pathetic proposition she’d ever received. Jim looked like a puppy asking for a treat he knew he wouldn’t receive, and she could tell he immediately regretted asking.

“Sorry,” he said. “That was stupid.”

“Sure,” Nat decided. “I’ll do that.” Why not?

Jim stared at her. “What? Really?”

“It’s been a long time since I slept with anyone,” she admitted. “When I was working for the Soviet government, they would have me seduce men – and sometimes women – in order to drug or kill them. I don’t like casual hookups because it reminds me of that, but I also really can’t get into a long-term relationship, because…” she shrugged. “Those are built on honesty, and for the last few years, my life has been a lie. I’ve been using a fake name, working under forged qualifications, and I can tell people all about my past but none of it’s true. You and I are being honest. I’m a former Russian spy and you’re something a crazy wizard made.”

Then he laughed, too. “A match made in heaven, eh?” he asked.

“Oh, I don’t know if I’d go that far,” said Nat.

There was a rumble. Nat leaned forward to look up again, and saw more lightning flickering. The gray cat gave a stretch, and then scampered off down a side street.

Jim seemed to take that as a sign. “I guess we should go in, too,” he said.

The first dark spots began to appear on the stone cobbles in front of them. “I think you’re right,” said Nat. “If we don’t we’ll be trapped here in this doorway until it stops.”

They hurried across the square, and darted into the hotel foyer just moments ahead of the rain. Lightning split the sky and thunder followed soon after, and suddenly it was teeming down, rattling on the old tile roofs and flowing in rivulets between the paving stones. Natasha hoped the cat had made it back indoors.

“Whew,” said Jim. “If even the weather’s telling me to go back to bed, I guess I ought to take the hint.”

He thought she’d been joking, Nat realized. Either that, or he was so embarrassed about having propositioned her in the first place that he was hoping they could both forget about it. Natasha could have let it drop, but decided not to – he’d made the request in earnest and she’d accepted it likewise. She was trying very hard not to think of the ways in which sex made people feel obligated to each other and how she could take advantage of those. Instead, she focused on how it would help him feel like he’d left an impression on the world… and as she said, it had been several years since the last time she’d done it.

So right there in the lobby of the Hotel Vadar, with other guests all around him, she took him by the shoulders and kissed him full on the lips. She felt him freeze, and expected him to relax into it once he realized she was serious – but he didn’t. When she stepped back a moment later, he was still staring at her.

“I… uh…” he began.

“If you didn’t want to, you shouldn’t have asked. You’re stuck with me now,” she told him, and kissed him again. This time, he put his arms around her and pulled her a little closer, and she knew he wasn’t embarrassed anymore.

“You taste like lemonade,” he told her.

She’d had lemon gelato for dessert. “Really?” she asked. “Because you taste like Perenelle’s elixir.”

Jim froze, horrified. “I do?”

“Just kidding,” she assured him, and took his hand to lead him back upstairs. The truth was he’d tasted of salt, melancholy, and the Abbot’s beer – exactly as she would have expected for a man obsessed with his own mortality. Perhaps in the strictest definition, Jim was not a human being, but if that were the case he was a damned convincing simulation.

Natasha woke the next morning with her head on Jim’s shoulder and her hand on his abdomen. He was still asleep and breathing softly, which made her smile – if their lovemaking had done nothing else for him, it had at least tricked his body’s chemistry into putting him properly to sleep. Allen was already up and gone, leaving them alone in the room, but he must have seen them together and realized what it meant. Nat thought about that for a moment and decided she didn’t care. If he said anything, she’d just remind him that she was an adult who could do what she chose.

She reached for her phone to see what time it was, and found it was almost eight. She had voicemail.

It turned out to be from the French consulate in Cetinje. Madame Jones, the recording said. We will need you to bring that passport to us. We have located Madame Desrosiers and it seems she had a second copy of the passport, which is not allowed. We need to determine which is her real one.

Nat set the phone down and gave Jim a shake. “Hey, wake up,” she said.

“Hmm?” he asked, opening his eyes.

“Get dressed.” Nat swung her legs over the edge of the bed and reached for her discarded shirt. “We need to catch a bus.”

They found the others having breakfast at one of the tables in the square. There were still puddles on the cobblestones from last night’s rain, but they were evaporating fast in the morning sunshine. Shops were opening and the pigeons were out and about, snatching up bits of bread and bacon that fell from diners’ tables. Nat pulled a chair up to the table where her colleagues were, and pulled out her phone.

“Morning, everybody,” she said. “I got a reply from the consulate. They want us to turn in the passport, which may lead to Desrosiers being arrested, or might just make her run away again. It depends on how she hears about it. I’ve already called Fury and hopefully he can find out where she is, and we can track her down before the police do.”

This was greeted by silence. Jim, who’d sat down on Nat’s right, stared at the stanchions that divided the hotel dining area from the square. There was a pigeon perched on it, grooming, and he was pretending to be fascinated by that so he wouldn’t have to make eye contact with anyone.

“So let’s eat,” Nat added, “and then we’ll catch the bus to Cetinje.”

“Is there something you want to share with the group?” Sam asked cynically.

Natasha had figured from the way people were looking at her that Allen must have told everybody what he’d seen when he woke up. She’d hoped that getting right down to business would tell them that it wasn’t a subject for group discussion, but apparently that had failed.

“Since it’s evident that you all know already, no,” Nat replied. Although Sam was the one who’d asked the question, she answered it while looking directly at Allen, to let him know what she thought of him spreading the word.

He lowered his eyes, ashamed.

“Any more questions?” Nat asked.

Nobody had any.

“Good.” Nat picked up a menu. “Because I’m too hungry to answer them, anyway.”

The public transportation in Montenegro was extremely limited and not particularly dependable – the tourist buses, on the other hand, went everywhere and kept a rigid schedule, but were several times more expensive. Theoretically the CAAP were still on government business and therefore passing all their expenses on to the crown, so they bought seats on one of those. They rumbled off to Cetinje in air-conditioned comfort and to the droning of a tour guide who had obviously done this so many times she could have recited her spiel in her sleep.

Natasha was sitting next to Allen, with Sir Stephen and Jim behind them. There was a general lack of conversation on the bus, partly because of the guide’s amplified speech and partly because nobody could think of anything to say that wouldn’t have been awkward. Nat was growing increasingly annoyed with them. If she’d slept with Clint or Sir Stephen, that would have been a problem because the first had a wife and the second a girlfriend. If she’d slept with Sam, it would have been unworthy of comment because they were both single. The same should have been true of her and Jim.

The only thing that made Jim different was that he wasn’t quite human in the way the others were. Natasha could point that out, but doing so would make Jim uncomfortable – and he was plenty uncomfortable already.

It wasn’t until they actually got off the bus in Cetinje, a green and picturesque city among rolling hills on the edge of Lovcen National Park, that anybody really said anything. Even then, it seemed to be only because Sir Stephen couldn’t take the quiet any longer that he suddenly spoke.

Maybe it was also because he’d finally thought of something to say that wasn’t inappropriate and wouldn’t be taken as a condemnation of Nat and Jim’s behaviour. What he said was, “Buckeye did enjoy the company of women.”

“Yeah?” asked Jim.

“Oh, yes,” Sir Stephen agreed. “Everywhere we went together, he left broken hearts in his wake. He would often try to find a lady to keep me company, as well, but his efforts failed. In my youth I was not the sort they admired.”

“Well, that was their loss,” said Sam.

“None can see the future,” said Sir Stephen. He wasn’t bitter about it – Natasha remembered his story of how Lady Margaret had admired his bravery even before the Lady of the Lake had turned him into a warrior. “Buckeye had hoped to marry someday,” he went on. “He would need a wife to carry on his father’s line, as he was the only son who lived to adulthood.”

“That didn’t happen,” Jim observed, unnecessarily.

“No, it did not. So in a way, I suppose he might be glad to think he would be resurrected in some form, to give his lineage a second chance,” Sir Stephen said.

“Well, I don’t think I’ll be doing that for him,” Jim said quickly. “Perenelle did say I don’t have any human DNA.”

“And I couldn’t do my bit even if he could do his,” Nat added. The people who’d raised her in the Red Room had taken care of that.

“I didn’t mean that,” said Sir Stephen. “I only think he would be glad to know you exist at all, and gladder still that you and I have met.”

“This may come as a surprise,” Jim said, “but I actually don’t care what Sir James Buckeye would have thought of me. Based on what you’ve said about him, I don’t think I would have even liked him.”

#fanfic #natasha romanov #steve rogers #bucky barnes #sam wilson #sharon carter #clint barton

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