A/N: Honestly, the more I try to invest in this fanfic, the more hectic my life gets! I mean as long as I write and post, it's all good, yeah? Anyway, here's chapter three. It's more of a filler chapter that focuses more on the characters instead of the plot. I actually had to look up Steve and Bucky's bio between high school and WW2 because the movie never explained it! I feel like it'd be nice to get to know those characters more aside from their film portrayals. I hope you all enjoy it!

Also, shoutout to all my new favs and follows and Xenocanaan and AnastasiaLolita again for the reviews! :) Girl, you are killing it and all of you are amazing!

Book One: Antebellum

Chapter Three: A Lead Beauty

Femme Fatale literally translates to fatal woman, a mysterious and seductive dame whose charms ensnare her lovers, often leading them into dangerous situations. She is an archetype found in all art forms from the recent success of the noir moving pictures to the Arthurian legends. A femme fatale tries to achieve her hidden purpose by using feminine wiles such as beauty, charm, and sexual allure. Any woman in Steve's eyes was a beautiful creature with such gifts. His past experiences, however, force him to label most as fatal women. To be used, to be toyed with, to be reduced to the receiving end of a cruel joke had hardened the young man before he could ever experience feelings of amour. Vernetta Holbrook was perhaps the poster woman of all femme fatales with her dangerous composure and cool, calm demeanor. Yet, Steve held off. Something within held on to the last shred of hope he had that Vernetta was the dame for him. His frail frame was scooted into the desk adjacent to his bed. Thoughts ran like crazed children, screaming and laughing without sign of slowing down. He had tried to make them think of things such as his portfolio for his submission to Auburndale, or how it was time for him to start working and help his mother, or even trying to make time for Bucky who also suffers from the dreaded portfolio. With all his might, he only strained himself in vain. His sight, his hearing, his voice and everything about Steve Rogers focused on only one woman. He had been sketching aimlessly during this internal struggle. Looking down, the lead eyes that seemed to belong to Vernetta Holbrook stared back. Despite his past, he was falling. And hard.

It had been a month since graduation. Vernetta had sunk back into her routine of tending cloth and hanger, selling and sewing. She was new to Brooklyn, afraid to explore the life that awaited outside by herself. Amelia had absolutely refused to aid in her journey. She preferred being led around the borough by none other than Bucky Barnes than traversing the streets with her cherry-lipped friend. Vernetta must admit he had talked to her more than they liked to let on when he wasn't with Amelia, but they were strictly platonic. Bucky had his romantic eye on Amelia and the brotherly love beating in his heart for her. He was still hopeful that his friend would find what he needed in some upper class Manhattanite. Vernetta, however, felt completely different.

"It's been a month, Bucky. Okay?"

"C'mon, you know the two of us are busy with submissions."

"Yet you somehow have the time get out and socialize."

Vernetta pushed herself off the counter and faced the shelves trying to divert attention. Bucky wasn't having it. It was a constant 'huff-and-puff' with Vernetta. He slid behind the counter.

"You know Steve…-"

"-no I don't." Her voice was stern. "I've met him twice."

Bucky merely nodded in the way he knew would drive her crazy. He listened, he accepted, never interrupting yet always fired back with an argument. Who knew Steve had such an adamant friend?

He was surprisingly silent for the moment. He still remained glued to her side but not a peep escaped. Vernetta thought during this strange moment of peace. Bucky was so adamant that he fails to realize she's moved on. She had a plan if Steve pursued, yet she now stood annoyed that his friend continued to meddle in a now nonexistent relationship. Acquaintance was a better term, however. Vernetta turned her head.

"Tell me about you and Amelia. She is choosing you over me, afterall."

"Oh…"

Out of the corner of her eye, Vernetta saw Bucky lean on the glass counter housing some of the jewelry. He dipped his head, hand disappearing behind neck. His tone wasn't all that great either. Just his body language revealed all she needed to know. Vernetta rolled her eyes.

"No good for you?"

"She's a doll and all, but…"

Bucky never finished. He only cringed and glanced over his shoulder multiple times.

"I know. I work and live with her." Vernetta sighed. "You needn't say a thing."

She just oh-so loved pointing out flaws and insulting them. It was often thought of as a trait reserved for the closest of friends where such abuse was in reality a sign of affection. Bucky didn't seem to think so by the looks of it.

"She's as cute as a bug's ear but that ain't everything, y'know?"

Vernetta stayed behind the counter, rearranging and straightening everything that was on a shelf. The lower ones held perfumes and fragrances. The higher shelves were reserved for the most expensive accessories. Jewelry, hats, gloves and others all lounged high and observed all. Vernetta had to step on a ladder to reach the top while Bucky held it in place.

"Then tell me about you."

"What?"

"You heard me. I do recall a sister who wanted to be rich. Helen, was it?"

"Hazel. And yeah, she has these visions of grandeur. Meeting you only made it worse."

"Oh, don't be an egg!"

Steve was drenched in sweat the moment he stepped out his door. It was a feverish wall that bubbled down to his thin bones. He still chose to wear his usual trousers and button-up shirt, save a few unbuttoned holes and the rolled up sleeves. Sketchbook in hand, he traveled down the melting pavement.

Children were rampant in his neighborhood; a virtue and vice of the Irish Catholic. They ran the streets like stray dogs often almost getting hit by a car or throwing a ball at one. Either way, Steve was met with the blaring honk of a car horn for most of the way. Their families would yell at both child and car in an almost Italian fashion. Everyone was outside; too hot to remain indoors. The air was too warm to help and almost if not everyone didn't have a air conditioner. Many were too bulky and they had to make room for their families. Then there was the price.

Steve strolled to the edge of his block where the more fortunate Irish-Americans live. The buildings became nicer, the streets less chaotic. Mr. Barnes planted his family roots here nearly twenty years ago after he married Mrs. Barnes. He worked a menial job yet it surprisingly had good pay. Bucky came along, then the surprise of Dorothy and Doris, then Hazel, and then little Thomas. They were well off and welcomed him like a sixth child after the second grade.

Steve tapped on the door and took a step back. The door came flying and before he knew it, Doris was at the door.

"Oh, hi Steve!" Doris exclaimed.

"Hi Doris."

"You know, you've missed Bucky!"

Wherever could he be? Despite his popularity, Bucky wouldn't leave without letting Steve know. Doris knew that, and read his questioning look like a book.

"You here to work on your portfolios?" She glanced down to the sketchbook.

"Oh, uh, yeah. But I'll just head home I guess."

"Your mother's at the hospital working. You're seriously going to stay home alone?"

The disapproving yet playful look only a Barnes could possess met Steve. Hip jutted out, lips curved into a smirk and arms crossed, Doris stared Steve down until he caved in his own awkward way.

"Well, what am I supposed to do?" He waved his hands around. "I don't have anyone else except you guys. I'm sure you don't want my help around your house."

Doris cracked a smile. His little attempt of a domestic joke was kind of worth it. She peeked out the door and pointed a finger to further down the road.

"He's at 19 with your lady friend and the other one." She nodded. "By the way, you two…?"

"I don't know how to talk to women. It's been a month. She's probably lost interest."

"Then get your rump down there! Draw her for your portfolio. Girls love the attention!"

"...so that was that. Steve got his ass kicked, like usual, but it was by Dorothy because he accidentally walked in on her changing."

Vernetta couldn't contain herself. She clung to the ladder trying not to fall off in order to jiggle with laughter. For some time now, Bucky had indulged her with stories he's heard or witnessed. It was a good day seeing his little sister lay down her law on Steve. Sure, they were of the exact same build and stature, but she clearly won that battle. Then again, Steve didn't believe in hurting dames.

"Oh-ho-ho-hew…" Vernetta wiped away the tears.

She climbed down still laughing like a fool. This in turn made the young man chuckle along.

"You could tell me stories all day, couldn't you?"

"Believe me, I have enough stories for years."

Amelia called out from one of the back rooms. Bucky's name was no doubt the first. He slowly began to take steps back, facing twisting into a forced smile.

"I've been summoned."

"You should look happy about it or Amelia will get on you."

Vernetta was all alone in the front, like it mattered. Summer had truly arrived making the heatwaves more unbearable. Most became slothful, not wanting to move from their blocks or even their homes. If Vernetta wasn't working, she'd damn well stay home. Her and Amelia invested in an air conditioner, after all!

Not even a minute in pulling out and polishing the display jewelry, the little bell screwed in above the door jingled. Vernetta froze her hand over a jeweled necklace and instead glanced up to see whoever was visiting the store. They were short and thin but her eyes didn't pop until this visitor took a few steps closer.

"Steve?" She straightened her back.

He avoided the eyes yet the closer he got, the more Vernetta noticed the red tint in his cheeks.

"You remember me." He tried to hide a chuckle.

Poor man, always expecting to be the stranger. Vernetta switched her mindset completely, altering her voice to be soft and her body welcoming.

"Of course I would. Why wouldn't I?"

"It's been a month since we last spoke. Not exactly the greatest farewell…"

Vernetta moved on when she hadn't seen Steve. He now stood before her seemingly remorseful and awkward. Then she remembered why she was so interested. He was different from all the other men she's encountered in her life. Steve was truly a unique person: his size was dwarfed by his towering character.

"We were all hot and tired." A small smile formed. "What's that in your hand?"

Steve pulled his left hand up, remembering the purpose of this strange book.

"It's my portfolio I'm working on for Auburndale."

"Auburndale? My my, you're an ambitious one."

"You know about it?"

"Of course. I am cultured and educated."

There she goes, reverting to her haughty and snobbish side. She had be careful enough to subdue parts of herself she knew wouldn't work in Brooklyn. Steve somehow broke down the wall Vernetta had tried to build, and that wasn't necessarily bad.

"That and I've had quite a few family members enroll. Especially when it was the last decade."

"How so?" Steve stepped closer.

Vernetta could tell he wanted to keep the conversation alive, to hear her speak perhaps. She appreciated the attention and indulged him.

"Well it was popular to be an artist in the Twenties. Literature exploded, architecture literally skyrocketed, and the visual arts birthed Art Deco. It was the time."

"I take it you're passionate of that time?" Steve laughed.

"Of course. If I were a young woman back then rather than a child, I would've lived. All the wealth and debauchery one could ask for. I could have been a Daisy Buchanan-no! A Jordan Baker!"

Steve now fully faced her, making Vernetta smile even more. He was fully engaged with her, somehow slowly making his way to the counter.

"I don't know about everything else, but I would've enjoyed the art. Could've been a big name."

"Well what's your style?"

"Drawing, mostly."

Vernetta pondered, pulling out the relevant piece of knowledge out of an endless library.

"You could've been a household name." She nodded. "I don't know of anyone who became famous with drawings. Fashion designers, yes, but their drawings become reality."

"Most don't make a career out of drawing, so who knows." Steve shrugged.

Only the arid breeze and the glass counter separated the man and woman. Bucky could make her laugh, yes, but her playful smirks were reserved for Steve. It mostly resembled a small smile belonging to a person who knows a cute secret. It spoke more than her laugh. Even he flashed a smile, looking away at times due to his bashful nature. But he always looked back and that was the biggest surprise in Vernetta's day. She was thankful her excessive habit of lipstick decided to stick through the heat. Her plain lips would have been a sore to her own eyes!

"We got so caught up, I didn't ask why you came. Forgive my rudeness."

"There's nothing to forgive. You could do no wrong."

Vernetta felt her own cheeks burn.

"I assume you're here for Bucky?"

"Yes ma'am."

"He's in the back with Amelia, but between you and me," Looking towards the back, she flattened her chest on the glass and beckoned Steve to move closer, "he doesn't want to be anymore."

The whites in Steve's eye popped. Bucky? Tired of a broad? Usually it was the broad who ended things when they found out Steve's charming friend wasn't only flirting with just them. This was an interesting development.

"You're serious?"

"Dead serious."

The pair of them gossiped like women until Bucky emerged with Amelia trailing behind. His face was harder than usual whereas Amelia was still her cheery self. That all changed when they saw Vernetta and Steve.

"Steve! Out of the house, huh?" Bucky slapped Steve's back.

The man winced but ultimately laughed it off. Vernetta rose from the counter, brow arched and a more sinister smirk in the place of the previous.

"You two were back there for an awfully long time." She snickered. "Steve and I chatted for a good ten minutes or so."

"Was she boring you with her Tiffany diamonds or the lovely Cartier bracelet?" Bucky nudged.

"I'm surprised you even know what those are." Amelia piped in.

"Eh, what can I say? I have sisters."

Vernetta told Amelia she'd stay behind and close up if business remained dead. Bucky very well couldn't tell her she couldn't come with him. The cringe on his face was both humorous yet saddening. Vernetta desperately hoped that her friend recognized the signs Bucky was putting out. In the meantime, Steve surprised her by staying in. It seemed to be odd yet the explanation he offered was a bit sweet.

"You don't mind if I stay and draw?" He sheepishly asked.

"Only if you take in a suggestion."

Steve was all ears. He watched as Vernetta scaled a ladder, descending with only one hand. She turned around and he glanced at the bright and dazzling jewels strung together.

"You're aware you have to do observational art, yes?" Steve nodded.

"I'll tell you this. If you have the skill to beautifully render diamonds, they'll accept you without hesitation."

Vernetta set the neck bust onto the sole ring station, moving aside sizing rings and various tools of repair. Steve was hesitant of sitting and wanting to take on such a daunting task.

"There's so much light and dimension, Steve."

"You don't even know my skill."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. You have to take risks for what you love, yeah?"

Vernetta sat across from Steve where she would usually sit if there were customers. The bust, facing towards him, was a gorgeous yet deadly piece of art that will break his mind. He was quick to study each jewel, but the task before him caused great disfocus.

"I can pull out a less extravagant piece?" Vernetta shrugged.

Steve shook his head, smiling a bit crooked for a guy like him. He straightened his small shoulders rolling up his sleeves further.

"You know your art. I trust you."

There it goes, the burning sensation on her cheeks. Vernetta pursed her lips in a way people knew she was comfortable. The spontaneous head tilt made it even more noticeable.

"I'll get us dinner later."

She certainly went all out for something as simple as dinner. Somehow, and more importantly somewhere, Vernetta had bagged a couple cheeseburgers and a couple cups- yes, cups-of fries happily parting with 10 cents for two glasses of coke. The surprise on Steve's face when he looked up was quite noteworthy.

"What's in the bag?" His eyes widened.

"Oh, you know, food."

Vernetta set one coke down before digging into the crumpled bag. She was constantly hovering over Steve that after she handed him his food, she noticed the sketch.

"Finished already?" She smiled down. "It looks beautiful."

"It just needs some more rendering…" Steve stammered.

His hand instantly found the safe spot at the nape of his neck, rubbing back and forth while he leaned against the station. Vernetta studied his movements. Were they born of his natural awkwardness? It couldn't be, he was doing so well before. Vernetta promised to keep an eye on him.

"Take your time, then. I don't mind staying up."

Steve had finished well before Vernetta returned to 19. The bright light beaming down in a store full of darkness washed out the rendering, but it was there and definitely a beauty. He had finished. He had the skill. Yet, something in Steve anchored him to hit seat.

He glanced up in the midst of a new sketch unbeknownst to Vernetta. She was sorting the finances of the shop, something Steve hadn't witnessed until now. He could only guess that the woman dreaded the numbers. Eyes bounced up and down as his pencil furiously rubbed against the paper. This muse of his was far more beautiful than some oversized diamonds. Vernetta Holbrook was perhaps the queen of all femme fatales with her charm and deceiving normality. She played herself as a Manhattan girl wanting the simple Brooklyn life. She fawned over some undersized, skinny man who looked more like a boy. She bought him burger and fries and a nice cool coke. Yet Steve knew of that haughty, snobby, vain upper class girl who thought she was better than everyone else. This was strangely the basis of an ever-expanding attraction and he oh-so craved more.

Glancing up was his femme fatale hunched over ledgers and receipts. Her always perfect hair was tousled and a few strands streamed from her scalp. Slowly, she would munch on a couple fries careful not to jab her red lips. Steve was careful to capture what the light highlighted, his sight and touch in the command of solely Vernetta. He had been sketching aimlessly like earlier in the day, yet this time he welcomed it. Looking down, the lead lines and shading that formed into a body and a head of hair. Again, he was falling. And hard. Doris was right. Vernetta may not know it, but Steve knew she was going to love the piece that did her beauty justice. Perhaps Steve could muster the courage to ask her out, maybe even going steady when the time was right. For now, he hid his smile and continued sketching until he finished, careful to hide it from Vernetta as she locked up the place for the night.