This is a collection of one-shots, there is no specific storyline, and no end in sight. All chapters are based on Jazz and Big Band songs. I will endeavour to leave each chapter at a point where the story could conceivably end, so as not to leave any questions hanging, and as this is essentially complete at any given point, I have marked it as such.
Story title: Dizzy Spells - Benny Goodman and his Orchestra
Chapter title: It had to be you - Artie Shaw
It Had to be You
She hadn't expected a room like this when Natasha had mentioned a dance studio. She'd expected something small, half a tennis court in size maybe, but the rumours about Stark seemed to be true. He didn't do anything by halves, so why not have a competitive ballroom size dance studio in the tower?
One of the walls was made up of the floor to ceiling windows that all the outer rooms had, two of the others were mirrored, with barres like a ballet studio, and the third was covered in bookshelves stuffed with records and sheet music for the grand piano which sat in one corner with the turntable. Browsing the shelves, she found them organised by genre and then by either composer or artist.
"Most of the more modern music is on my system if you require it, Miss Cameron."
"Thank-you, FRIDAY."
Also set in that wall was a door, which she discovered upon investigation lead to a suite of change rooms.
Deciding on swing music, she requested that Friday play the recording of Benny Goodman's 1938 Carnegie Hall Jazz Concert she'd discovered, and sat down to start stretching.
The room was pleasantly warm with the lazy Sunday afternoon sun slanting in through the windows, itching her nose as she stretched. Eventually, the sneeze she could feel building up decided to make itself known.
"Bless you, bless you, bless you, bless you, bless you, bless you, bless you, bless you, bless you, bless you."
She tried not to get excited, not to panic. Ten was common enough that she'd heard it before, but she couldn't help the leap of excitement, the flare of hope each time it happened. She was one of those unlucky people with generic words. "Bless you." Only, hers repeated themselves, curling along her thigh in a string of ten.
He was looking for Natasha. There was, apparently, a new person in the tower he didn't know about. He couldn't get a straight story on her out of anyone, and he wanted some background on her before they had to interact. She was, apparently, from Europe and/or Africa and/or Asia, a teacher, performer and scientist, had extra abilities and had done all manner of weird and wonderful things in her twenty-something years of life. He doesn't deal well with unknowns, especially ones with seemingly contradictory life stories. Nat wasn't in any of her usual haunts, and he was loath to use Friday to locate people any more than necessary. The AI made him uncomfortable, while simultaneously being a reassurance in case something went wrong.
The only place left was the studio. Nat hated interruptions when she was dancing and was known to come up with creative ways of making this known to anyone who dared to do so. Still, Bucky's want for information outweighed the consequences of her displeasure. As he made his way down the corridor, it became obvious that she wasn't in the studio either. The door had been left open, and the music drifting from the room was achingly familiar. Jazz, not the strange new stuff he'd encountered on occasion, but good old swing jazz, the kind you could dance to. It was an old recording too, the slight crackle of a record player audible, though when he looked into the room, hidden as much as possible behind the doorframe so as not to attract notice, the turntable wasn't on.
The woman in the room wasn't someone he recognised, from what he could see anyway. It was kind of difficult to tell with the way she'd twisted herself into some unfathomable position on the floor. After a moment, she unwound herself, and was sitting up when she began to sneeze, and just. didn't. stop.
He was so astonished and bewildered by this that he just continued saying bless you over and over until she'd finished sneezing and was sitting, looking somewhat dizzily in his direction.
"Do you always sneeze like that?" He asked from the doorway.
She sighed and gave him a wry grin, "Sometimes, I think I must be the most blessed person on the planet."
She'd started a bit at the uproarious laughter that followed her statement, obviously expecting a chuckle or a grin, at her comment, but not this.
"Is there a reason you find my comment so outrageously funny?" she queried.
"Steve was right, and I'll never live it down." Was the only information she got before he began chuckling again, at the memory of the way Steve shot down his cockiness over the words scrawled on his side.
"If you would care to elaborate on the subject, I'd appreciate it."
She didn't seem to realise she'd said his words, and he supposed, from her comment, that sneezing so much was a normal thing for her, and that she must have heard those words spoken on a semi-regular basis. "Bless you" wasn't exactly the most unique set of words. Even so, there was a spark of suspicion and hope in her eyes.
He felt a brief flash of embarrassment at the thought of revealing the story and how cocky he'd been about his soul mark, but it would come out anyway the next time she met Steve, and he'd rather she heard it from him. It was also a good way of letting her know she'd said his words, since she hadn't fully cottoned on to the fact that he was her soulmate yet.
The embarrassment must have shown on his face, for her head tilted curiously and the corners of her mouth lifted.
"I always took it as an ego boost, that the gal who'd say my words thought well enough of me on our first speaking that she'd consider herself blessed to have me as a soulmate. Steve, never one to forego an opportunity to humble me, would retort anytime I'd bring it up with: 'maybe she just sneezes a lot.' Turns out he was right."
The grin that spread across her face as his story unfolded was one of the best things he'd ever seen.
"Better than having 'bless you' written ten times over." She stood.
"I'm Charlotte Cameron, Charlie if you prefer." She spoke again as she reached him, before he could reply. "You're taller than me, I'm glad."
"James Barnes" he replied, "though I prefer Bucky, and yes, I am. It will be an advantage if you know this music half as well as I hope you do."
Her answering smile echoed the one from earlier. "Well enough to dance to it and I'll pick up what I don't know quick enough. Dinner and dancing on Friday? I know a place."
It sounded wonderful, and he longed to take her up on the offer, but still didn't feel comfortable or safe out in public for extended periods.
"How about dinner and a lesson in 1940's swing here instead? It's still not safe for me to be out." He offers with a bit of a grimace.
"Sounds good to me."