A/N: Spoiler alert for Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Avengers: Age of Ultron, Captain America: Civil War, Ant-Man, and Spider-Man: Homecoming.
As always, many thanks go out to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta and Winter-Soldier-88 for the brainstorming.
Year From Hell: Season 3, in progress. Please stand by…
Namaste,
Sunny
"I will come back to you, I swear I will;
And you will know me still.
I shall be only a little taller
Than when I went."
― Edna St. Vincent Millay, The Harp-Weaver and Other Poems
Winter Soldier
And You Will Know Me Still
Chapter 67
Vasilescu Shipping and Transport
Giurgiu, Romania
Standing in the outer office where Andrei spent most of the night shift, Antonia tapped out yet another text to her brother. Five minutes went by without a response. Puzzled, she opened the warehouse door. The men were all on a break, sitting around talking or playing games on their phones.
Her footsteps echoed as she crossed the warehouse. They looked up at her approach. "Has anyone seen Andrei? He's not answering his phone."
Mihal shifted his feet. "Left on an errand during the night and hasn't come back."
"He doesn't usually leave the office unlocked and unattended when he goes to get something to eat. If he wasn't feeling well, he may have gone home." Antonia checked the time. "I would go, but we have that big shipment going out in a couple of hours."
To her surprise, Jacob rose from his seat. "I'll go."
Worry for her brother overrode the thrill of once more being close Jacob as he followed her into the office. She held out a set of keys. "Use my car. His house key is on the ring. If his car isn't there or he doesn't answer the door, go inside and check, just in case."
Jacob took the keys and left by the front door. Listening to him drive off in her car, Antonia smiled at the thought of how their first time together would be. Naturally, he would be a thorough and immensely satisfying lover, tender and giving, and not too demanding, willing to let her lead until they'd discovered a rhythm all their own. One side of her mouth turned up in a smirk. It would take a long time for her to become bored with this one.
The office phone rang, and she slipped into the chair behind the desk where Andrei usually sat, pushing his half-drunk cup of coffee off a stack of papers. "Vasilescu Shipping and Transport. This is Antonia."
The Parker Apartment
Queens, New York
After Midnight
Peter had been staring out the window at the street below for almost two hours waiting for May to come home from her date with Sam. Each time a car came down their street, he pressed his nose to the glass, his breath creating a circle of condensation. He grunted and changed position.
"Shoulda followed 'em," he mumbled sleepily to himself. Taking out his phone, his thumb rubbed over the keys as he calculated how angry May would be if he sent her a text demanding to know when she'd be home.
Then, another car came down the street and double parked in front of the building. Peter saw Sam get out and come around to the passenger side. He opened the door, extending his hand to help May out, holding on until they were both on the sidewalk. They talked for a few minutes. May gave Sam a quick peck on the cheek and let herself in the front. Sam watched her go, hands in his pockets, and when she was safely inside, he got back in his car and drove off.
"You disappoint me, Sam. Didn't even try for a good-night kiss," Peter mumbled to himself as he flopped on the bed. "Ungh. Make up your mind, Parker. Do you want them to like each other or not?"
He rolled onto his stomach, pulling the pillow down around his ears just as he heard May's key in the front door and her footsteps in the hall. She paused a moment outside his door then continued on to her room. Now that she was home, his brain quit second guessing itself and he was finally able to sleep, though not for long.
Karen sent a signal through his phone, jolting him out of a very pleasant dream where he showed up at the senior prom on Felicia's arm, smirking at the envious glances from the other guys in the room. Sitting up on the side of the bed, Peter rubbed his eyes and squinted at the clock. "Shit, Karen. Do you have any idea what time it is?"
"I do, Peter. It's exactly…"
"Rhetorical." He ambled down the hall to the kitchen, took down a clean glass, and poured cold water into it. "What d'you want?"
The AI gave the impression of pursing her lips in amusement before responding. "There's a situation developing in The Bronx that is right up Spider-Man's alley."
Peter finished the water, set the glass in the sink, and returned to his room. "Let the police handle it for once. I'm goin' back to sleep. And no, I won't change my mind." He lay down on his back with a groan. "No wake-up call, Karen. I'm sleepin' in. Aunt May probably will too."
"I agree. She must've had a good time."
Apparently Karen wasn't going away just yet. "Why d'you say that?"
"She's in the bathroom washing her face and humming."
That got his attention because May didn't sing and only rarely hummed. "What song?"
"Life's a Dance by John Michael Montgomery."
He removed the pillow from his face, frowning. "Never heard of it."
Karen played the song to help out.
Life's a dance, you learn as you go.
Sometimes you lead, sometimes you follow.
Don't worry 'bout what you don't know,
Life's a dance, you learn as you go.
"Doesn't ring a bell." The song continued to play, annoying Peter. He pulled the covers over his head and closed his eyes. "Knock it off, Karen."
The music stopped in mid-chorus. "As you wish, Peter. Good night."
The Lewis Home
Orlando, Florida
Morning
The front door closed behind Steve coming back from stuffing more bags of clothes in the back of the SUV. They were filled with Darcy's mother's clothes and other stuff to be given to a local charity. Darcy still hadn't decided whether to keep or sell the house. Her life at the moment centered around Upstate New York and the Avengers compound, but that could change at any time.
"Darcy? I'm taking another run to the donation center. Need anything while I'm gone?"
Her voice echoed in the hallway, "More boxes! Wait! I'll go with you." She joined him, one hand shoving her wallet in her back pocket, flashing a grateful smile while he held the door open and locked it behind them. "I've made an appointment with Mom's attorney for after lunch."
"Want me to go along?"
She waved a hand. "It's just boring legal stuff. Getting the house, car, and everything else in my name, going over the terms of the will." She pretended to yawn. "I'll probably sleep through it."
Steve saw Darcy safely into the passenger seat, then got behind the wheel. He pulled into the street, taking the same route to the donation center he'd already taken many times over the last few days. "We, uh, we didn't have much when Mom died. Just the apartment, furniture, clothes. A couple months later, I moved in with Bucky and his mom, and then she passed away not long after."
"So we're all a bunch of motherless children." Steve agreed, but the look on her face said there was more to it than a commentary on their "orphan" status. Darcy turned on the radio and tuned it to a satellite station. He still couldn't get used to being able to choose the music you listened to over the radio. She scrolled to the song she wanted and sighed sadly. "The song is an expression of pain, despair, and hopelessness of being separated from those you love due to distance, time, imprisonment, or death. Not sure who wrote it. This version is by Van Morrison."
Sometimes I feel like a motherless child
Sometimes I feel like a motherless child
Sometimes I feel like a motherless child
Long way from my home
Sometimes I wish I could fly
Like a bird up in the sky
Oh, sometimes I wish I could fly
Fly like a bird up in the sky
Sometimes I wish I could fly
Like a bird up in the sky
Closer to my home
Motherless children have a hard time
Motherless children have-a such a hard time
Motherless children have such a really hard time
A long way from home
Sometimes I feel like a motherless child
Sometimes I feel like a motherless child
Sometimes I feel like a motherless child
Long way from my home
The song ended and Darcy sighed, no doubt thinking of her mother, just as he was thinking of his. "The words can be meant literally or metaphorically, and many feel that 'home' refers to heaven." She poked him in the shoulder. "Enough feeling sorry for ourselves. They wouldn't have wanted that. So…"
"Yeah?"
"I've been thinking about what to do with the house."
Steve sensed she wanted his opinion, but had her own ideas that may not tally with his. "I'm listening."
A smile turned up the side of her mouth facing him, dimpling that cheek. "Fix it up and rent it out, kinda like one of those VacaAway places where people rent your home for one night or up to a month."
"Not be a good idea," Steve told her. "I looked it up on the internet. The industry isn't regulated. There's no way to recoup your losses, if the temporary tenants damage the property above the amount of the deposit."
That got her thinking instead of reacting. Darcy could be impulsive. She needed an objective mind with whom to brainstorm ideas. She exhaled loudly as they turned into the parking lot of the donation center. "It requires more thought then."
Brew-tiful Dreamer Coffee Shop
The scent of coffee wafted past Darcy's nose before they reached the entrance making her mouth water. At the counter, she ordered a blended Cocoa Mocha Frappuccino with caramel drizzle and whipped cream. Steve ordered his usual: a plain black coffee. The only table available was on the patio.
"You haven't gone into your mom's studio since we arrived."
Annoyed that once again, Steve was pointing out the obvious, Darcy crossed her arms. "Can't a girl be neurotic without having her motives questioned?"
His boyish smile came with a raised eyebrow. "Not on my watch. As Captain America, it's my job to keep up the team's morale."
Darcy pounced on the flaw in his logic. "Ah! I'm not on your team. Therefore, I am exempt from morale-boosting efforts on your part." He pulled down his sunglasses, one eyebrow raised, and she relented. "Fine. I'll do it tonight, after I come back from seeing the attorney."
His triumphant grin gave her a momentary urge to slap him. Then, their number was called, and he got up to get their order while she took out a mirror to check her hair. A few days ago, she hadn't bothered and had wandered the aisles of the grocery store with cobwebs in her hair. If Steve had been there, he wouldn't have let her leave the house looking like a Halloween reject. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, stopping halfway into it at hearing a familiar and particularly loathsome voice.
"Well, well, look who blew into town. Still driving that old beat-up Bug, or did you finally trade it in for a broom?"
Darcy's lips pursed to keep from blurting out her first thought. Part of her plan to not be as impulsive. She turned it into a non-committal, bland, you're-an-ass glare. "Long time ago, David. Love the feel of the wind in my hair. And while we're exchanging pleasantries, might I ask who let you out of your cage?"
The man standing on the other side of the table glared, telling Darcy she'd scored a few unfriendly banter points. "I bolted when my caretaker open the door to put in fresh water." Everything about David screamed "I have more money than sense", from his hundred-dollar haircut to his overpriced loafers. "I'm still friends with the dean at your college. He tells me you've changed your major yet again. You're still as fickle and flighty as you were when we were together."
"Then you should also remember that it was a mistake I rectified the same day I found out you were cheating on me." A bit of information she barely remembered was tossed up by her active mind. "By the way, I heard what's-her-name dumped you a month after I kicked you to the curb. Pity," she deadpanned.
"You have no room to talk, Darcy. You're not wearing a ring either."
Darcy looked down at her bare left hand, racking her brain for a snappy come-back when Steve returned.
~~O~~
Steve saw and heard the way the stranger was speaking to Darcy. The man was giving her such a hard time, he had to be an ex. He couldn't let it continue. He set their drinks on the table and sat down, scooting close enough to put his arm around her shoulders, then laid his hand over hers resting on the table. His eyes held Darcy's though his words were for the stranger. "That's because we only got engaged a few days ago."
Darcy pressed her lips together to keep from gaping at him. He winked where the other man couldn't see. She smiled happily and leaned into him. "Totally out of the blue."
Their eyes locked, and Steve's smile turned flirty. "Well, when the time is right, you just know."
The man scowled. "And you are?"
The man's tone grated on Steve's nerves. Darcy's too, to go by the flint in her blue eyes. "Steve Rogers, Darcy's blissful and adoring fiancé."
"That plague upon the human race in a cheap suit is a latrine lawyer by the name of David Delahanty. Don't get too close, Steve. Wouldn't want you to catch something."
Steve leaned closer, and before he had time to think about what he was doing, they were kissing. Her lips were soft and warm, moving against his so sweetly that, just for a moment, it felt real. Then, he eased back so they could see each other.
David cleared his throat nervously, and Darcy dropped her eyes to where Steve still held her hand. "I got the call about Mom's passing the same day, so we haven't gone looking for a ring yet."
Steve took great pleasure in knowing they'd flustered David, taking the wind out of his bluster. "My condolences. I didn't know she was ill." The pompous ass looked at his watch. "I, uh, have an appointment." He took a half-step back. "Congratulations on the engagement. You both look very happy."
Steve stood, keeping his spine ramrod straight, noting he was at least a head taller than the ex-boyfriend with a much more muscular build, and extended his hand. They shook, and he purposely squeezed too tight. "That's because we are." Avoiding looking at them, David walked into the shop. Steve resumed his seat with his arm around her shoulders again, and said, "We are not inviting him to the wedding."
They looked at each other and laughed. Darcy took a long sip from her drink and Steve did the same. By mutual unspoken agreement, they decided not to speak again until David had gone. When he saw him coming toward the exit, Steve leaned in for another kiss to discourage conversation. He cracked his eyelids just enough to see Darcy focused on David getting into his car and driving away. Once he was gone, she pushed out of his arms with a hand in the middle of his chest.
Darcy toyed with her straw, not looking at him. Then, she did, and the smirk she wore most of the time was back. Nothing kept her down for long. "Thanks."
"My pleasure."
A snort came out and the smirk got bigger. "Not just yours." They occupied themselves with their drinks for a few somewhat uncomfortable moments. "We, uh, had a short kind of pre-engagement. Like, really short. Less than a month. Can't remember now why I thought he would be good life partner material." She shook her head causing her hair to brush over his arm still wrapped around her shoulders. "He wanted me to take his name and I wanted to stick with Lewis. My step-dad was an only child. He was so good to Mom and me, I wanted to carry on his family's legacy. Besides, I couldn't see us going through the rest of our lives as Darcy and David Delahanty." She dabbed her lips with a napkin. "Way too alliterative."
"So you were looking for an excuse not to marry him."
"Not really," she sighed. "I just decided that if we disagreed on something so insignificant, then what would happen if we couldn't agree on something big?" Her drink made a sucking sound. "That and he wanted kids and I didn't. Well, that and I found out he was sleeping with one of the law students at the firm where he was a junior partner."
Steve finally removed his arm, slowly so it wouldn't appear that he didn't enjoy it, because he did. Maybe more than he should, considering their recent mutual break-ups. "He doesn't seem like your type."
The smirk turned into a grin. "Wasn't aware I had a type. But you're right. You can't fake chemistry, and that's what most of our relationship felt like. And the sex was only so-so." Her hands made a frame in the air. "You know, once I got some distance and could see the whole picture." Her head tilted so they could see each other more clearly. "Know what I mean?"
Uncomfortable with the turn in the conversation, Steve brought the cup to his lips. "I do."
~~O~~
The living room seemed empty with all of the medical equipment gone and the furniture moved in from where it had been stored in the garage. Darcy was so exhausted at the end of each day that she fell asleep on the sofa while they were watching a television show or movie. And each time, Steve would remove her shoes, cover her with a light blanket, and shut out the lights, only leaving the bathroom nightlight on so she wouldn't stumble in the dark. After the first couple of times, she didn't bother thanking him and simply accepted it as a byproduct of their friendship, as she should.
At the moment, Darcy was going through the kitchen cabinets, throwing out the expired food and packing the rest to take to the local food bank. None of the dishes had any sentimental value, so they too had been packed to be given to charity.
His job was to box up everything in the desk to be shipped to Darcy's New York apartment for her to go through at her leisure. He knocked over a basket of papers and crouched to pick them up. There, in with all the other documents, he found a handwritten sheet of personalized stationery that was unfinished and addressed to Darcy. The salutation, My dearest Darcy, and the distinctly feminine, shaky writing could only have been written by her mother.
Steve carried the letter to the kitchen. Darcy was on the floor, pulling pots and pans from the lower cabinets and stacking them in a box.
"Found something I knew you'd want to see right away." Steve passed her the single page, watching her face as her eyes scanned left to right. Then, she climbed to her feet and pushed past him into the other room, and he followed. "Darce?"
He found her frantically searching the papers he hadn't boxed yet, making the mess even bigger. "Where was it?"
"There," he told her quietly, pointing to the stack now on the chair.
She picked them up, tossing them on the floor one by one, becoming more and more agitated. "It's not here! Where's the rest of it?" Darcy opened the first box in the stack and started digging through the contents.
Taking her hands, Steve forced her to look at him. "Darce, that's all there was. I checked."
She was on the verge of tears. "But there has to be more!"
"Why? What's it say?"
Dropping into the chair, holding the single sheet in one hand, she took several deep breaths to calm down. "You didn't read it, did you?" Their eyes met when he crouched in front of her, more than a little curious. "Here."
Steve took the page, quickly reading the few paragraphs, and finally understood this newest turmoil. "She was about to reveal your biological dad's name." Taking her hand where it rested on her thigh, he gave it a squeeze. "I'm sorry."
"Thanks."
He adjusted his grip on her hand. "What about one of those DNA tests? It might not tell you who your father is, but it could help find long lost family who may know his name."
Her expression immediately brightened as she pulled out her phone. "Steve, you're a genius!" Using her thumb, she typed her search into the browser and scrolled the results. "Ah-ha! I can buy a DNA test at the Discount Mart down the street. We can stop after we drop off the donations."
"Any decisions as to what to do with the house and its contents?"
"Keep it, for now. Lease it out. I can put the furniture in storage." They stood together, and now she was smiling. "Just think, in a few weeks, I could know who knocked up my mother and made her miss a year of college."
The excited and eager, and slightly nervous smile made him smile too. "That's one way to put it. Whatever happens, Darce, I'll be there for you."
"Yeah, I know." She grabbed his hand, pulling him through the house to the back door. "Come on. Let's open Mom's studio."
Vasilescu Shipping and Transport
Giurgiu, Romania
It was morning, and still no sign of Andrei. No phone calls or messages. Jacob had reported that his car wasn't at home and nothing inside had been disturbed. His bed hadn't been slept in, nor had the shower or kitchen been used. Jacob reported that all was as spotless as ever, and there didn't appear to be anything missing.
The whole situation was odd, unless Andrei had finally met a girl he fancied and was caught up in the heat of a new love. He would've told her. They tell each other everything. But then, her brother was an adult, perfectly capable of taking care of himself. Antonia would give him another day or so before telling their parents, who would report his disappearance to the police.
That thought brought her back to Jacob, as nearly every thought did these days. Never in her adult life had it taken so long to tempt a man into her bed. He hadn't even tried to kiss her, though he did hold her hand as they walked along the docks one morning after he'd joined her for breakfast and before she was due in the office. Another frustrating facet of the man was his unwillingness to talk about his past.
For all the time they'd spent together, not that there was much, the only tidbit she could get out of his was his best friend's first name. She still didn't know where in the US he was from, if he had siblings, if his parents were still alive, what he liked to do for fun in his spare time, past girlfriends, favorite foods, nothing. Just Steve, who, she gathered, never tired of being pummeled in an alley. Not a last name or a description.
Jacob drank beer on tap and black coffee. For breakfast, he always ordered what she ordered, as if he didn't want her to know details of any moment of his life except what she had to in order for him to continue working for the company.
Perhaps their next date would be different, because Antonia would be extending an invitation to have dinner at her home.
The warehouse door opened, and in walked the object of her thoughts. Jacob seemed surprised to see her. "Good morning, Jacob. How was it last night?"
"We finished packing everything for the next shipment. It only needs to be loaded onboard." His head tilted to one side thoughtfully. "Thought we were meeting for breakfast today."
"Because Andrei is shirking his duties, someone-me-has to take up the slack." Antonia moved in close without touching him, lowering her voice. "We could have dinner instead."
Jacob glanced around furtively, as if he thought he was being watched or followed. "Dinner would be nice. Where would you like to go?"
"Let's do something different. Come to my house. I'll make something traditional. Gulaș de cartofi cu afumătură or gulas de galuste." She turned away, busily scribbling on the clipboard she carried, not giving him a chance to decline. "I'll text you the address. Come at seven tomorrow night. If Andrei still hasn't shown by tonight, Mihal can cover the shift again."
With a side-eye, she watched his eyes dart about the room. Then, he nodded. "I'll be there."
~~O~~
Bucky's walk back to the hostel gave him time to wonder at Antonia's motives. Not that he had any illusions; she hadn't made it a secret that she wanted them to be intimate. However, in the back of his mind, his danger sense kept sending him signals that would come and go. One moment, his instincts told him to be wary, and others, that she was as happy and cheerful as she appeared. Others, he didn't know what to think. His observations over the last few weeks didn't seem to add up to what his instincts were saying.
By the time he'd finished showering Bucky decided that, in this situation, his instincts had to be wrong. Not once had Antonia given him a reason to be wary of her, other than her aggressive moves toward him as a romantic partner.
He climbed into his bed on the fourth tier, covered up with a sheet, switched out the small overhead light, and pulled the curtain shut. He rolled over to face the wall where he'd pinned a photo of Natasha found on the internet. She was suited up for Avenging, her hair in disarray, dust, dirt, and blood sticking to her suit as she shot one of the New York invaders with his own weapon.
With a sigh, he closed his eyes.
The Parker Apartment
Queens, New York
Today was May's day to work from home, and she decided to have a lie in. She heard Peter leave with only part of her consciousness, then had fallen back to sleep only to be awakened abruptly by her phone ringing. Pulling the covers over her head, she waited for it to stop. After the disruption, sleep proved elusive, so she got out of bed, yawning on her way to the bathroom.
In the kitchen, she silently thanked Peter for getting the coffee ready. She pressed start and went to the table that served as her desk and booted up the laptop. The coffee wasn't ready yet, so she went to her room for the basket of dirty clothes so she could do laundry later. Peter's door was open, his laundry basket sitting empty in a corner, and the dirty clothes on the floor, desk, chair, bed, and doorknobs.
May gathered everything up, dropped it in the basket, and stood in front of the closet staring at the red and blue suit looking incongruous beside his everyday clothes. Giving in to temptation, she pulled it out, and held it up in front of her while examining her reflection in the mirror. She gathered her hair in a ponytail at the back of her head, smiling at the picture she made. With a shrug, she shoved it back in the closet, picked up the basket, and went to pour a cup of coffee.
Queens, New York
School Cafeteria
Lunchtime
A tray slapped the table across from Peter and Ned, and Felicia took a seat, giving both boys a welcoming smile while they gaped at her. All around, Peter could see the envious looks shot their way by the junior and senior boys, and some of the girls.
Felicia popped the top on her Coke and stuck a straw in it, looking from Peter to Ned and back. "The invitation to sit with you is still open, right?"
"Oh! Uh, yeah. Of course," Peter quickly assured her. "Um, Felicia, this Ned."
Peter's best friend stared open-mouthed at the hand she extended in his direction, only taking it when Peter poked him in the ribs. "N-n-nice to meet you, Felicia. I'm Ned."
The smirk that was Peter's first introduction to his new friend stayed put. "I know. Peter just told me. Nice to meet you too." Keeping hold of Ned's hand, she leaned closer and lowered her voice. "You really shouldn't stare, Ned. Stay cool."
To draw attention from the odd scene, Peter picked up his burrito. "Thought your senior rep couldn't handle eating with sophomores."
Picking up her drink, Felicia raised one eyebrow. "I don't care what people think of me. High school is filled with cliques and never the twain shall meet. Or something like that. It all boils down to not mixing the 'classes'. The popular kids don't hang out with the nerds. Nerds don't talk to the jocks. Jocks only hang out the cheerleaders." She waved a hand. "Save the drama for your mama."
Finally able to speak, Ned's smile was something close to normal. "Right! Spider-Man doesn't play favorites. Why should we?"
"Besides," Felicia unwrapped her silverware, laid the napkin in her lap, and cut a piece of the meatloaf, "people learn by example. We, the three of us, are teaching the rest of the world by example."
Peter's phone beeped. He pulled it out to read the text. "It's from May."
"Who's May? Girlfriend?"
"It's his aunt. He lives with her," Ned told her, having nearly gotten past his awkwardness with their attractive companion.
Felicia's expression showed curiosity mixed with a touch of sadness. Peter guessed it had to do with her status as a kid "in the system".
"Huh."
Ned leaned over to look at Peter's screen. "What?"
"May wants to know when I'll be home." To Felicia, he explained, "Ned and I are on the decathlon team. We practice two nights a week." He tapped out a quick answer and received an equally fast response.
*Come straight home after school. No stops.*
Puzzled, he typed back, **You sick? I'll come now.**
*No skipping class. After is fine.*
**Okay. I'll be there.**
Felicia's eyes bored into his. "You should call her, Peter."
Peter put away his phone and picked up the burrito again. "She's fine. If something was wrong, I'd know." Of course, he couldn't tell her how he'd know. They weren't acquainted well enough to trade their biggest secrets yet, if ever.
The Home of Antonia Vasilescu
Giurgiu, Romania
After Dinner
Sitting on the sofa with Antonia, Bucky felt the night was going rather well. The food Antonia served had been excellent, as was the dessert. Now they were sipping coffee and talking. He could sense Antonia's frustration with his non-answers to her probing questions. She didn't make it easy for a former assassin to stay under the radar. He shouldn't have stayed in Giurgiu, but he needed money on which to live until he got to Bucharest.
Bucky reached out to set his empty cup on the coffee table, and when he faced Antonia again, she launched herself into his arms hard enough that they fell backward with her on top. Her lips pressed tightly to his while her small, strong hands framed his face, the thumbs lightly brushing over his cheekbones.
He grasped her arms below the shoulders to move her away, but she was insistent, and he was lonely for a woman's touch. He couldn't be with the woman he loved, so he settled for the one he was with, and kissed her back.
Content with kissing for the moment, Bucky was startled when one of Antonia's hands slid down his chest and in between them. Then, she shifted around, dropping one knee between his thighs, while her hand worked his belt buckle loose. He jumped up, accidentally dumping her on the floor.
Without a word, he helped her up. "Sorry. It's just…"
She touched his cheek, smiling indulgently. "It's okay if you don't have much experience with women, Jacob."
"It's not that. I…" Bucky wasn't sure how to finish the sentence without giving too much away. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at the floor.
Thankfully, Antonia gave him breathing room, figuratively and literally. She picked up their empty cups and used dessert plates, smiling seductively. "Don't worry. I'm sure you know all the best ways to please a woman. You can show them to me after you…" her eyes dropped down to where his body showed evidence of his supposed interest, "…freshen up, and I'll put these up, then go in my room to wait for you. Come on in when you're ready."
Her words seemed to have meaning beyond the obvious, but he wasn't quite sure what that could be, so he went into the bathroom and closed the door. He used the facilities and washed his hands before splashing cool water on his overheated face when the door at the end of the hall opened and closed.
He turned out the light, glancing out the window into the backyard. There were no lights, but the moon was nearly full and high in the sky, giving the lush garden an eerie overgrown feel, somewhat similar to how he thought of an abandoned mansion where no one had lived for decades and the garden had been left to nature.
But there, among the greenery, dotted with dog rose, lilacs, lilies, and poppies, Bucky saw the glint of light. Not much, just a small flicker off chrome or mirror of a car. Now that he noticed, there was something else back there, hidden by the trees, overgrown bushes, and flowering plants.
If someone was hiding in Antonia's backyard, they'd probably wait until he was gone to break in. The best course of action was to stop the act before it was committed.
The Parker Apartment
Queens, New York
Late Afternoon
Peter let himself into the apartment, calling out, "May? You here?"
"In the living room!"
He turned toward her while holding out his backpack to drop on the table… and missed. His mouth fell open at the same time it thumped on the floor and he momentarily forgot to breathe. Only May's head and shoulders could be seen. Not unusual, but what she was wearing was more than worthy of comment.
"What the hell?" he whispered as he slowly approached her, curiosity and shock fighting to be the dominant emotion. "Ma-ay, why are you wearing my Spider-Man suit?!"
TBC
FYI – There is a seven-hour time difference between New York and Romania. That's why the timeline may seem off at times.
"Life's a Dance" is a debut song written by Allen Shamblin and Steve Seskin, and performed by American country music singer John Michael Montgomery. It was released on September 21, 1992.
"Sometimes I Feel Like a Motherless Child" (or simply "Motherless Child") is a traditional Negro spiritual. It dates back to the era of slavery in the United States. An early performance of the song dates back to the 1870s by the Fisk Jubilee Singers. Like many traditional songs, it has many variations and has been recorded widely.
The song is an expression of pain and despair as it conveys the hopelessness of a child who has been torn from her or his parents. Under one interpretation, the repetitive singing of the word "sometimes" offers a measure of hope, as it suggests that at least sometimes I do not feel like a motherless child.
Although the plaintive words can be interpreted literally, they might alternatively be metaphoric. The "motherless child" could be an enslaved person separated from and yearning for his or her African homeland, his or her parents, siblings, child(ren), or spouse, (from all or any of which he or she may have been separated in the trafficking process) or an enslaved person suffering "a long ways from home"-home being heaven-or most likely all.
Gulaș de cartofi cu afumătură is a classic Transylvanian dish. Potato goulash with smoked ham added. Transylvania was previously part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire before joining Romania in 1919, so its cuisine is more heavily influenced by that historic region.
Gulaș de galuste = goulash with dumplings.