33.
London, United Kingdom
December 17th, 1943
In the two weeks since the Commandos returned from their second mission, Isabel has barely seen Steve or Bucky or any of the other men apart from passing glances, hasty conversations, hellos and goodbyes.
In a way, she knows she's been avoiding Steve and Bucky, at least a little bit. Her second last conversation with Steve was about them and their relationship, leaving all of the strings unattached. It feels... not awkward, but just unfinished, and neither of them are quite sure how to pick it back up again without forcing it. Besides, they're a little strained considering their last full conversation had been something of a yelling match in the corridor after arriving back at base, where Isabel had shut down Steve's attack and been aided by Colonel Phillips in her retreat.
The encounter hasn't sat well with her. Her and Steve have never fought in their entire lives, not that she can remember. They've always gotten along well, aside from the rare bicker and teasing between each other. The idea of Steve being mad at her, and her being mad at Steve, makes Isabel feel unsettled; like her world's tipped off it's axis or something. But she knows Steve wasn't really angry at her, or at least won't be for long if he was. He was scared more than anything - scared for her and her safety and of all the things that could go wrong, something she can't fault him on but can begrudge - and fear makes people do strange things sometimes, makes them emotional and turbulent, something Steve doesn't need help to be.
Since then, Isabel has run into both Steve and Bucky at odd times throughout the base, though neither party had the time to stop and talk too long. Steve and Bucky were busy planning their attacks on Hydra and learning the ways of the Army, some meetings that Isabel herself attended. Isabel was busy working with Howard and helping Nurse Caroline in the infirmary when there was a workplace injury. Steve had looked a little embarrassed and shy when they'd run into each other in the rather abandoned hallway outside the lab, probably due to the context of their last conversations. He'd tried to talk to her and she'd tried to talk to him, but Peggy had approached and moved him along, reminding him he had a meeting to attend that he was late for. They ran into each other alone another two times, and each time someone had ushered Steve somewhere or another, always on a time limit. Steve had looked apologetic, but he'd gone, leaving her in the hallway once again.
Bucky has been much more open to conversation when she'd run into him in the hallway, not being rushed anyway and hardly caring if he was to be late for a meeting or appointment. One Friday at noon he comes into the laboratories with three lunch trays piled up into his hands, lunch for himself, Isabel and Howard. He takes a seat at Isabel's empty desk chair and pulls up another for Isabel beside him, leaving Howard's tray for him on his own desk.
Isabel takes the seat next to Bucky, eyeing him carefully. "Don't you have a meeting today?" She asks. "I thought I heard something about getting together to form the next mission plan?"
"We do, but not for that. It's to discuss the... team's dynamic. It doesn't matter if I'm late," Bucky says vaguely, waving a hand to indicate for her not to worry.
"It probably does matter," Isabel argues, but she says nothing else, her mind turning over.
The Commandos have no missions set up in the immediate future despite having intel, and Isabel has the distinct feeling they're putting them off because they're still arguing over whether she should be allowed to join the fight, no doubt the topic of the day's meeting. It seems like a shame, considering they don't exactly have unlimited time before Hydra completes their plans for their world domination quest.
Isabel had agreed to Phillips' conditions, despite them being quite restricting, and had been extremely grateful to him for the opportunity, and also to the Commandos for being so open to her joining. Steve and Bucky, however, still seem very displeased by the change to their team's framework, and no doubt are still arguing their perspective. For Bucky to be bored of the meeting and not want to attend; perhaps Bucky is growing tired of the argument, or perhaps he's been sent to try to talk her out of it again before reporting back.
Isabel knows it isn't even because she's a woman – that had been the one part of her she'd thought would let her down, but Peggy had enlightened her. Thankfully, the likes of Peggy Carter have opened the door for females in this type of field, changing the minds of men who have long been stuck in a masculine hegemonic outlook. It all boils down to the fact that she's family and they don't want her to get caught in the line of fire. While she understands their logic, it also infuriates her. She has to watch the two of them go off and put themselves in danger. She's allowed to play the waiting game, but when it's their turn, they can't handle it.
Still, she can't be too sour because she's gotten what she wanted whether Steve and Bucky wanted it or not. Technically she's a part of the team. Technically she's a Howling Commando, even if she won't be fighting. She plans to put her foot down, force herself into their little team circle and plant herself there so she can't be wrenched out ever. Once a Commando, always a Commando, and she won't let anyone take away her wings. She's already the winged symbol onto the left sleeve of the combat uniform Peggy gave her anyway, and she can't be bothered unpicking it.
Bucky gets through half of his meal before either of them speak again.
"How are you feeling?" Isabel asks quietly so that the inventor can't hear where he's sitting at his desk, muttering away to himself.
"M'fine," Bucky says through a mouthful of egg. Isabel raises an eyebrow at Bucky, and he swallows his food, thinking more carefully about his answer. "I'm getting there," he decides instead.
"Have the nightmares stopped?" Isabel asks.
The worry about her brother still sits in her stomach of how he is doing after his captivity and his injection with the serum. She stays awake until late some nights, straining her ears to hear for the screaming and crying she used to hear coming from he and Steve's room, but the last few weeks she hasn't heard anything but silence and maybe a little snoring. It's a breath of relief, but it also has her wondering whether Bucky is just hiding it, embarrassed or feeling like a burden.
"I don't think they're ever going to stop, Issy," Bucky says solemnly. "But the rest of it has. The shaking and the vomiting. I think I'm working out how to deal with it."
"Good," Isabel says sincerely. "And the serum...?"
"Still in there, I think."
"I mean the side effects," Isabel clarifies, hitting Bucky's arm to get him to concentrate.
"I think they're about the same as before. I feel stronger, and I swear I'm actually getting bigger without doing any exercise. I can still drink out the whole bar before I feel a buzz. I think faster, process information better. I'm hungry all the time... The usual," Bucky finishes with a shrug of his shoulder.
"I don't think it's the actual effects that you should worry about. I think it's if the effects suddenly go away that we should worry," Isabel notes, looking thoughtful. "We'll keep an eye out, I promise."
"I know," Bucky says, pushing away his plate as he finishes it and chugging down his orange juice.
They sit in silence a moment while Isabel finishes her food slowly, watching Howard at his desk as he scribbles away wildly in a notebook, still muttering scientific jargon to himself. She's savouring the downtime she's having, even if it's only to eat lunch in the laboratory. It feels nice; that is, until Bucky brings up what she'd assumed he'd come in for in the first place.
"Issy, there's actually something I need to talk to you about."
Isabel looks up at him slowly, her chewing stopping. She swallows her food, turning her head to look at him curiously. "Would it have anything to do with the team dynamic you were meant to discuss in the meeting today?" She asks innocently, widening her eyes just slightly.
Bucky narrows his eyes slightly at her, knowing that she knows what he meant by that. "Yes," he admits. "And it wasn't just Steve's idea to talk to you about it, because you know that I agree with him."
"You made it very clear," Isabel says, still feigning innocence with a smile on her face.
Bucky shifts a little, uncomfortable. "I've come to talk you out of your decision to join the Commandos," he announces.
"Is that so? Well, it wasn't so much my decision as Phillips' suggestion that I agreed to. I heard you already took it up with him, though."
"Yeah, we did."
"I'm staying here in London and I'm not going home. I'm joining the Howling Commandos as a second medic and I won't be waiting around here for you all to come home. That's what I told Steve, and it's what I'll tell you. It's my decision and I'm sticking to it," Isabel says with finality crossing her arms in front of her chest. She's sure Bucky and Steve been in cahoots with one another to try to annoy her out of joining.
"It's way too dangerous for you to be coming out into the field with us. It's perilous. It's unnecessary!" Bucky argues, exasperated.
"You know what I agreed to, the rules that Phillips had for me. I won't be going into the field. I'll be waiting on the sidelines in case you need me. In case being he key word. If you all behave and none of you get shot, you may not even need me."
"This isn't a joke, Isabel," Bucky berates, glaring at his sister.
"When did I say it was? I'm serious. You may not ever need me, and that's okay. But at least I'll be there if you do need me. I can save one of you much easier if I'm fifty yards away rather than five hundred miles, or further," Isabel retorts, glaring right back.
Bucky glares for a moment, clicking his jaw in frustration. "You won't be only fifty yards away," he eventually says. "Two hundred at the least."
Isabel pauses, it taking her a moment to realise this is Bucky giving in, accepting that she's a part of the team. She smiles at Bucky, not smugly but in relief and gratefulness. "Well, you'd better get to the meeting and tell them," she says finally.
Bucky nods, shoots her a strained smile, and then leaves the laboratories in the direction of the mess hall, taking he and Isabel's emptied trays with him. Once he's out of earshot and sight, Isabel blows out a breath and leans back in her chair, covering her face in her hands. She's always been quite good with confrontation, but that doesn't mean she likes it.
Once Isabel settles the issue with Bucky, there's still the issue of Steve.
Not only his inability to accept her as a part of the team, something that Isabel is hoping Bucky will convince him of, but also of the tether between them waiting to be tied; the matter of what happened that night on the rooftop, Isabel and Steve's dance amidst the light of the setting sun and Steve's almost-admission that was rudely interrupted by the needs of the next mission. The memory of that, of being left standing on the cold rooftop, draped in his jacket and left to wait for Steve to return, is also tainted by the fact that the ideal reunion she'd been imagining while he was on the mission was ruined by her later involvement in the mission itself, which Steve'd been opposed to and had caused all the trouble between them in the first place.
The tether; Isabel wants to tie it up, wants to tie up all of their loose ends, and its even more incentive to try to see Steve, despite the fact that she knows he'll try his hand at talking her out of joining the team.
Her confidence is quite skyrocketed after talking to Bucky. Isabel tries to talk to Steve, she really does. She tries to escape the lab and her newfound responsibilities a few times, but Howard is an insane workaholic who barely takes the time to eat and sleep, let alone talk with friends and family. The inventor spends nearly every second of his day in the laboratories and somewhat expects Isabel to be there while he is as well, though he does have some respect for the sleep schedule she'd been intent on keeping from the beginning of them working together. Isabel hopes that once she starts working more with the Commandos she'll be allowed to spend less time cooped up in the laboratories, especially if her and Howard have any sort of breakthrough decoding the serum, something that hasn't happened as of yet.
Isabel has gotten up the time or the courage a few times to find Steve, but he's always been busy stuck in a meeting, attending a conference, filming a newsreel or film advert, or passed out upstairs in his room after a long day.
Isabel eventually grows tired of being turned away from the closed doors of the meeting room by the guard. The night before her birthday, she goes up to Steve and Bucky's room late that night, hoping that Steve will be awake and they can talk, or go for a walk despite the weather. She's getting a little desperate to have an actual conversation with him, not even just to talk about them, but just to talk because she misses him. She doesn't know if she likes admitting it, but she misses him terribly, like she's missing a part of her. Not talking to him or seeing him except glances is almost painful.
Bucky opens the door when Isabel knocks quietly, wary not to wake anyone else in the building. It isn't late late, but it's late, past nine, and in the Army that's bedtime considering many of them are up at ungodly hours of the morning. Bucky opens the door, looking groggy and tussled and sleep deprived, his hair sticking up at odd angles from being against the pillow.
"Issy?" He asks, rubbing a hand over his face. "What're you doin' here?"
"I-I didn't mean to wake you up," Isabel says, quickly backtracking her idea.
"S'okay, I wasn't asleep," Bucky reassures with a yawn, and his appearance says otherwise. "You came t' talk t' Steve, didn'cha?" He asks, leaning against the door frame and staring sleepily at her.
"Uh, yeah. I got a little tired of waiting, figured I might be able to catch him," Isabel says, unable to see into the room around Bucky.
Bucky looks solemnly over his shoulder, revealing Steve's snoring figure on his bed. He's still fully dressed in his Army uniform, shoes and all, as though Steve had fallen asleep standing up and collapsed onto the bed. Maybe he had, Isabel truly wouldn't be surprised.
"You want me to throw a pillow at him and wake him up?" Bucky asks, entirely serious and prepared, grabbing one of the discarded pillows from the floor behind him, thrown off the bed.
"No, don't do that," Isabel says quickly, stepping inside and taking the pillow from Bucky, putting it down on the vanity. "I won't wake him up, he's exhausted. I'll just wait and see him when he's free and conscious," she says, stepping back out the door.
"But it's been, like, a week since you spoke to him. I've barely spoken to him either, but he ain't my sweetheart," Bucky argues.
"And he ain't mine either," Isabel retorts.
"You and I both know that isn't true," Bucky says with a sly smirk.
"Do me a favour, hit yourself with the pillow," Isabel says, leaving with a smug wave.
She hears the door to the boys' room close behind her, and Steve's faint snore hitch as he reacts to the sound, but then the snoring continues steadily. She listens as Bucky flops back onto his own bed, his own snoring just audible again through the door. Shaking her head, Isabel walks to her own room and lets herself inside, empty as Peggy is still downstairs working on God knows what. As Isabel gets ready for bed, feeling exhaustion creep up onto her, she marks another day silently in her head where she hasn't heard Steve's voice.
London, United Kingdom
December 23rd, 1943
The next morning is the morning of Isabel's twenty-third birthday rolls around, she gets herself out of bed at the crack of dawn and heads into the bathroom to get ready for another long day down in Stark's laboratory. She hurries through her routine, wary of the time and the fact that she's slept in longer than she'd meant to, slapping on a face of makeup and taking her hair out of its pin curls, brushing out the tight curls into a manageable style, pinning the fringe up into a victory roll. Once she's dressed and deems herself presentable for the day, Isabel makes her way down to Stark's labs.
She finds the brunette genius face down at a desk, a half-full coffee mug by his elbow, asleep in a puddle of drool.
"Howard, wake up," she tells him, tapping his shoulder lightly.
Howard snaps awake, sitting up like a bolt. "What – Isabel? Is it eight already?" He asks, eyes both wide and sleepy at once as he rubs a hand over his face.
"Yes, a little past actually. Have you been down here all night?"
"Maybe. Yes," Howard mutters, looking around for the clock on his desk and checking it, blinking at it as he tries to read it. "I didn't mean to, though, I planned on going to bed around four," Howard says, letting go of the clock to take a long sip of the now-cold coffee brew in the mug on his desk, wrinkling his nose at it in distaste.
Isabel takes the coffee from him and hands him another she'd made him just before she came into the room, tipping the old coffee down the sink beside them. Howard takes it with a grateful smile, downing half of it at once. "You really should get more sleep. I don't know how you function on three hours," Isabel chimes.
"Alright, Mom," Howard says sarcastically, but he smiles fondly at his friend. "If you must know, I find it hard to get to sleep. My brain doesn't shut off. I'm constantly thinking. Makes it a little hard, even when counting sheep."
"Maybe you need a distraction," Isabel suggests offhandedly.
"Are you offering?" Stark asks suggestively with a smirk.
Isabel chokes on a half-laugh, half-grimace, coughing and laughing at the same time. "That's not what I meant and you know it," she manages, her cheeks red.
"Oh, you meant like meditation or something, right…" Stark says in mock-seriousness. "I'd sleep better at night if we weren't in a war zone and the allied effort wasn't relying on me to produce weapons and decode the super-soldier serum."
"I think we all would," Isabel mutters.
Isabel takes a seat at the desk Howard cleared for her and pulls out her notebooks, her own coffee in her hand. Once it's all set up and opened to the right pages, she goes to the freezers in the corner and pulls out the last blood samples she took from Steve over two weeks ago, the day before they'd left for their second mission as the Howling Commandos.
She sighs, taking out the blood sample. It's still in fine condition, having been sat in a locked refrigerator of sorts in the laboratories. She gets to work on analysing it again, even though she's already done it two weeks ago. She needs to find a distraction.
Isabel doesn't tell Stark or anyone else that it's her birthday, not wanting to be bothered. Staying away from Steve and Bucky has been tiring enough without being bombarded by birthday wishes. Instead, she spends the day in relative tranquillity, working with Stark on the formula.
They come across a small passage in one of Erskine's notebooks that they think may be a part of the serum, though the passage is written in neat French. Isabel only recognises a few words, most of them too intricate for her to decipher. She only knows a few words of French from learning it in school and from hearing Gabe and Dernier talk.
"I know someone who can translate this," she tells Howard, packing up the book and getting off her stool. "I'll get them to Gabe to write it out and I'll come straight back. That way we'll know if it's related or not."
"Sounds good, doll," Stark says dismissively, busy staring at a whiteboard onto which he's written a vast chemical formula on that Isabel has no understanding of.
She leaves the laboratories and looks around the base, searching for any signs of the Commandos. When she finds none of them, she heads upstairs to their rooms, knocking quietly on Gabe Jones' door. The man answers quickly, dressed and ready to start his day after another late night at the Stork Club the night before.
"Oh, Barnes Junior. Come in."
"Hi, Gabe," Isabel says, walking into his room when he steps aside and ushers her in. Dernier sits in a chair in the corner beside a turntable, music humming low around the room. He looks up when she enters. "Bonjour, Dernier."
"Bonjour, mademoiselle. Vas-tu à la danse ce soir?"
"What did he ask?" Isabel asks Gabe.
"He wants to know if you're going to the dance tonight. You know, the Christmas one."
"Oh, uh… Oui, j'y vais (Yes, I am). I wouldn't dare miss it," she says with a smile. "Who could live without dancing, wine and Christmas when we're stuck in this hell hole?"
Gabe translates to Dernier, who laughs in agreement.
"So, I hear you've been avoiding our good Captain?" Jones asks sneakily.
"I haven't been–" Isabel says hurriedly.
"I know, you've both been busy and you've barely seen each other. Cap told me. He's a little sad about it, he's kind of been moping around the base the last few days looking like a lost pup. He's been avoiding the labs, too, didn't want to bother you. He was pretty down too when Serge told him you'd knocked on their door hoping to talk to him last night when he was dead to the world."
"I was hoping we could have talked about, well, you know..."
"Yeah, I know. Of course, he wished it upon himself with the way he reacted to you joining the Commandos. Serge, too. Caused a bit of a fuss at the Stork Club when they found out before they stormed out to see Phillips."
Isabel frowns, but she does feel a little pang of guilt. "I'm not stupid, I can make my own decisions about what I do."
"Yeah, you can," Jones agrees.
"Obviously, I know that it's going to be dangerous, but I'm not doing it for that. I'm doing it because I'd rather be there to save one of your lives than be there when you come back injured or too far gone for me to help," Isabel continues.
"I know," Gabe smiles. "It's in your nature to help, just like it's in Cap's. You just have different ways of doing it."
"That's what I thought," Isabel mutters quietly.
"For what it's worth," Jones says carefully. "Myself and the other Commandos will be happy to have you tag along. You're a good nurse. You know a hell of a lot more than Morita, bless him. It'll be comforting to know you're there, too. And I have a feeling you'll turn out to be a great friend, as well."
Isabel smiles at Gabe, her cheeks turning a pale pink. "Thanks."
"No problem."
They both look up, spotting Dernier looking rather clueless in the corner, zoning out of their English conversation. "I really need to learn some more French. Poor Dernier must always feel left out of the group."
"Eh, he'll live," Jones laughs.
"Speaking of French, that's actually why I'm here. Though, thanks for the chat. I've been holding that in a while now, Peggy's great and all but support isn't always her strongest suite."
"Folks back home called me Honest Gabe. I was usually the advice guru," Jones says proudly with a smirk.
"Really?" Isabel asks with a raised brow, chuckling at Gabe's nod. "Alright, then. Good to know. Anyway, I was wondering if you'd do me a favour and translate this? It's written in French and some of the words seem kind of obvious but as you've witnessed, I can only speak very basic French and I want to be sure on what it says before we act at all," Isabel asks Jones, opening the book to the write page and handing it to him.
"Sure," Gabe says cheerfully, taking it from her. She hands him a pencil and he writes the translation on a spare piece of paper, the pen scrawling across the page in messy handwriting. "What is this for?" He asks.
"Oh, just one of Stark's experiments. They're another scientist's notes," Isabel says, unsure whether the Commandos are fully aware of the procedure Steve underwent to make him Captain America. She knows the basics have been made-known publicly, since it was featured in the propaganda film they watched only a few weeks ago, but the nitty and gritty of it all may be a secret.
"For Cap's serum?" He guesses, finishing off the last word and putting down the pencil. "You don't have to hide anything, we all know about it. Cap told us on our first march. He thought we all deserved to understand who we're working beside and why he's capable of what he is. He also told us your part in it all, how you're now working with Stark to try to uncover the formula and method."
"Oh, okay. Uh, yeah. We think it is for the serum. Depends what it actually says..." She takes a seat on the bed next to Jones, reading his note over his arm.
"Internal ingestion to be taken orally before injection process; stabiliser, prescribed steroids, focus enhancers, electrolytes, antibodies, antigens, hormones, Wakandan Herb."
"It's a list of ingredients. Vague, but it's a list," Isabel gasps, knowing that it's likely only a few ingredients of the whole formula. Erskine never puts everything together. Isabel takes the book from Gabe, snapping it shut, and hurries to the door. "Thank you, Gabe!" She cheers as she slams the door behind her, running back down to the lab.
She leaves the two men in the room, shaking their heads with a chuckle. "Dieu, elle est envoyée par le ciel (God, she's Heaven sent)," Gabe tells Dernier.
"Ouais, elle va courir le capitaine pour son argent, (Yes, she's going to give the Captain a run for his money)," Dernier agrees. He leans over and turns the music up a bit louder.
Howard still stands in the same position as he was thirty minutes ago, biting on the end of a pencil and staring at the chalk board.
"Howard!" Isabel yells, bursting into the lab. "It's a list of ingredients for an oral portion of the experiment. The experiment is divided into three sections, not two; an oral portion, the serum injections and then the Vita-Rays. I didn't know Erskine had Steve take an oral supplement," she says more quietly, opening the book again and showing him the translation.
Howard reads it quickly, his eyes lighting up. "I didn't either," Howard contemplates. "Rogers definitely didn't take it whilst we were in the experimentation room. He must have taken it the day before while they were still at Camp Lehigh. Would've been nice of him to tell us that."
"Well, he probably thinks we already know."
"True." Howard looks down at the list again. "It's vague, we don't know what type of herbs or steroids or electrolytes, but it's a start. Great find," he notes excitedly. Howard takes the book off her, carrying the translated page to his desk and putting it with the other information they've gathered so far – a large folder of notes, methods of the serum's creation and administration, and sketches of the design of the chamber.
"What does Wakandan mean?" Isabel asks curiously, remembering she'd seen the word on the translated page in Gabe's neat handwriting and not understood it at all.
"Wakanda is a place in Africa," Howard explains. "It's a poor country, not very developed. Not many people know about it. It's not surprising Erskine found herbs there. It's also where the vibranium of the shield came from."
"Right," Isabel nods. The country must be so minute, it isn't even on the large map on the wall of the lab.
"What are you still doing here? The Christmas party starts in two hours. You need to go get ready. I suppose Peggy wants to do your hair and makeup for you," Stark tells her, looking up from where he's making more notes.
"But we've had a breakthrough," Isabel protests, though she does presume she should start getting ready. She wants to set her hair again since the curls from that morning are starting to unfold.
Stark shrugs. "It can wait until tomorrow. Unfortunately, there isn't much more we can do with this information without knowing more. It may not even be the whole ingredient list. It sets the parameters but doesn't give us the answer. We need to start consulting the rest of the texts to find more regarding this oral portion of the experiment. Not only do we have to work out what was in the serum vials, but now we have to work out what was in the oral portion." Stark sighs, but he still looks pleased nonetheless. "Go and get ready, I'll see you at the dance."
Isabel sits at the dressing table in front of the mirror, carefully letting her hair out of his pins and rollers. It falls in thick curls, and she grabs a brush, running it through the curls to settle them into place. She carefully tucks the front parts into small victory rolls away from her face, pinning them strategically.
Peggy stands in the bathroom, putting her last layer of red lipstick on, her hair and makeup already immaculate. She isn't dressed yet, only wearing a dressing gown, her navy-blue dress lying flat on the bed beside a pair of red heels. Peggy emerges from the bathroom, slipping the dress on as Isabel coats her eyelashes with mascara and draws on the edges of her brows with Peggy's dark brown liner, making them a little longer. They're still overly thick, though Peggy had convinced her to pluck them to fit in a little better with the style that's in at the moment.
"Is your hair ready?" Peggy asks, coming up behind Isabel.
"Yes, it just needs hairspray," Isabel mumbles, in the middle of putting on her own red lipstick.
"I'll do it," Peggy tells her, grabbing the metal can. "Close your eyes." Isabel does as she's told, and Peggy shields her face as she sprays enough hairspray onto her locks to hold them in place without them turning to cardboard.
"I can never spray the perfect amount. I always put too much that it goes all stiff, or not enough and the curls fall out," Isabel grumbles, puffing one curl with her palm.
Peggy smirks. "It's an art."
There's a knock at the door then, and Peggy goes to answer. Isabel leans over to turn down the music on their portable radio.
"Ah, the Captain and the Sergeant," Peggy greets, cheekily smirking at Bucky. "How dashing you both look."
"Hi, Peggy," Steve replies. "Is Belle here?"
Isabel pauses, almost embarrassingly, at the sound of his voice.
"Yes, she's just getting ready," Peggy says, inviting them inside.
Steve and Bucky step into the room and Isabel immediately feels a bit of anxiety and guilt settle in her stomach. She's kind of avoided them all week and now they're standing here in front of her like nothing happened. They're dressed in their army best, suits well-fitting and their ties properly flattened against their shirts. They're clean shaven and their hair is impeccable, gelled into style and recently cut. Isabel wonders whether they'd cut each other's hair in the bathroom like they always have to save money.
"Happy birthday, Isabel!" They both cheer, smiling goofily at her. Steve holds a medium-sized present in his hands.
"Oh, thank you guys," Isabel laughs, giving each of them a hug and kissing their cheeks.
"I didn't know it was your birthday! Why didn't you tell me?" Peggy asks, looking a little hurt but also amused.
"I didn't want all the fuss, it's just another day," Isabel laughs, her cheeks blushing at all the attention.
"Well, happy birthday anyway, love," Peggy smiles, giving her a hug of her own.
Steve clears his throat, breaking apart the conversation that's started up between Isabel and Peggy. "Bucky and I got you something," he says, holding out the present.
"Think of it as a joint Christmas and birthday present from both of us," Bucky adds.
"You really didn't have to get me anything," Isabel mutters, already opening the present, saving the wrapping paper the way they've always been told to.
She reveals a cardboard shoe box and her eyes widen. She lifts the lid off to find a pair of expensive-looking, shiny black slip in pumps with a satin ribbon that wraps around the top of the ankle and ties off in a bow. She gasps aloud, picking them up and admiring the feel of them.
"These are so beautiful," she gushes, smiling from ear to ear. She then looks at the inside cushioning at the heel, the French brand name imprinted in gold lettering into the cream-coloured cushion. "These are from Paris. They must have cost a fortune."
"And you'll never find out just how much. But that's not all," Bucky smirks. "Look in your trunk."
Isabel goes to the trunk at the end of her single bed and throws open the leather lid, pulling out a large square black cardboard box, this one bearing a Parisian brand name on its lid as well. She opens the box on the bed, mouth wide as she carefully lifts out a sleeveless evening dress, red as fire with a black mesh material on the underlayer, the material soft and flowing. She drags it out and holds it up in front of her, the gown long enough that it will fall to her ankles, just high enough to show off her new shoes. She holds it against her body and looks in the mirror, swinging it back and forth. It has so much material, it must go against ration laws. Either that, or they paid an absolute fortune for it.
"Oh, my word. I- I can't, it's too much."
"It's not too much," Steve argues, stopping Isabel from putting the dress back in its box, intent on them returning it. He looks at her sincerely, a hand on hers that still clings to the dress. "You deserve them. I wish we could buy you a hundred pairs of shoes and a hundred dresses and whatever else you wanted, but not everyone has the bank account of Howard Stark, and there's rations in place right now, so…" He breaks off with a shrug, smiling goofily at Isabel.
"Thank you," she smiles, hugging the dress to her chest lovingly. "Both of you."
Bucky salutes her comedically, as though he were just doing his duty. "It was Steve's idea."
"It wasn't just my idea–" Steve argues.
"Alright, that's enough," Peggy cuts in. "You two need to leave so us ladies can finish getting ready. We'll meet you down at the dance. Out, out," she instructs, pushing the two uniformed soldiers back out the door. Once they're outside, Peggy hurriedly closes the door, turning back to Isabel. "They have rather good taste, I must admit," she says, admiring the fabric and colour of the dress.
"You didn't help them choose it?" Isabel asks, looking back down at the dress in her hands, the fabric so soft to the touch. She truly wonders how the boys could have chosen something so beautiful without help.
"No, they did it all on their own, I promise. Makes it all the more special, right?" Isabel nods, feeling her eyes getting a little misty. "Now, let's get the dress on you. You're going to be the most beautiful woman in the whole of London in this."
The SSR Christmas Party is set up to take place in the main chambers of the underground base. The large meeting tables and chairs have been moved to the edges of the room, holding a buffet of snack foods and glasses of wine and whiskey. The various maps and strategy plans lining the walls have either been hidden by hanging sheets of material or taken down entirely, stored in another room. The room looks nothing like an army base, rather resembling a dance hall, the columns of the building separating the room into an area for talking and an area for dancing, equipped with a full band on an installed stage in the corner. Tinsel hangs along the roof, as well as mistletoe hanging from random lights and fixings. A small Christmas tree sits on the edge of the stage beside the band's lead vocalist, a star shining on top of it.
Isabel and Peggy finally make it downstairs, halting in the hallway before turning to corner into the main room of the party. The music is already in full swing and so are the dancers, the women of the SSR already tugged into dances with the soldiers and agents. People are already picking away at the banquet up the back, standing around with disposable plates and plastic wine glasses.
"We're late," Isabel says worriedly, staring at the dancers.
"It's called being fashionably late. It's a good tactic for a woman to use," Peggy reassures.
"Everyone is going to be staring at us," Isabel argues, chewing on her lip nervously.
"That's the point. It's called making an entrance," Peggy says with a smile. The agent reaches into her purse and takes out a tube of red lipstick. She grabs Isabel's chin and moves her head toward her, carefully fixing Isabel's lipstick. "Let's make sure you look perfect for your soldier."
Once Peggy deems Isabel ready, she puts the lipstick back in her clutch purse and then takes a confident step out of the hallway into the chamber, all eyes turning toward her. The dancers take one look at the dazzling Agent Carter and then keep dancing, but the other men, mainly the Howling Commandos, stare as she enters. Peggy notices quickly that Isabel isn't following behind her and doubles back, grabbing Isabel's wrist and dragging her out of the hallway right into the eye line of the mind-boggled men. Peggy strides confidently past the twirling dancers, Isabel trailing behind her, looking slightly uncomfortable. All confidence she'd had when wearing the dress in front of the mirror in her room has gone in a flash.
Howard immediately saunters up to them, looking incredible dapper for someone who probably crawled out of his lab five minutes before coming to the hall.
"Well, don't you look radiant," Howard says, taking Isabel's hand and prompting her to do a spin. "The Belle of the ball!" Isabel giggles, thanking Howard. He then sees Peggy beside Isabel, and smirks at her as well. "And the Angel of the Evening. Peggy Carter, you're a dashing dame."
"Save it, Stark," Peggy says, rolling her eyes, though she smiles at him.
"You know what else I just found out?" Howard asks. "It's Isabel's birthday today. Who would have known, since she never told anyone?"
Isabel laughs, pushing Howard away. "If you know me as well as you like to think you do, you'd have already known it was my birthday."
"Now I just have to buy you a present to make up for it," Howard cheers, moving off toward the alcohol table.
Isabel and Peggy exchange a look. Howard Stark can be exhausting. The two women then proceed through the hall and walk up to the waiting Howling Commandos who stand toward the back of the room, a jovial crowd.
Peggy walks right up to Bucky's side, threading her arm through his. "I think this may be a swell opportunity for our dance, Sergeant Barnes. I'm rather fond of this song," she tells him.
Bucky smirks flirtatiously, but falters. He looks over at Steve beside him, the blonde staring at Isabel with his eyes wide and mouth open, having still not spoken to her. Her attention's been taken by Dugan now, who's asking her about the dress she's wearing, having known Steve and Bucky's plan to buy it for her.
Bucky leans closer to Peggy's ear, whispering, "Can we wait one more moment? I've just got to sort Steve out." She nods, smiling patiently, knowing Bucky has been waiting for this moment for a long time and also wanting the moment for her friends.
Bucky nudges Steve in the ribs with his elbow and Steve turns toward him, looking a bit dizzy with the dame. "That girl's something else," Bucky says fondly, smiling at Isabel who's back is almost toward them, her dark hair now long enough that it hangs down between her shoulder blades. "And you know what you are, Steve? You're an idiot."
"Yeah, thanks," Steve mumbles, managing to draw his eyes away from Isabel to glare at Bucky.
"No, seriously. I can't believe this. You're so slow on the update. She's makin' herself beautiful wearing the dress you lovingly bought her and waiting for you to make the first move and you're just standing there like a doofus with this lovesick look on your stupid face. You lovesick idiot."
Steve's entire face heats up and he stubbornly says, "I am not a lovesick doofus."
"Okay, maybe not a doofus, but definitely lovesick," Bucky allows. "How long are you going to draw this out? How long are you going to wait?"
"I don't want to wait," Steve admits.
"Then don't. You're so dizzy with the dame, you've been blind to every other dish you've ever come across," Bucky barrels on. "You've both been so damn in love with each other for so damn long, I'm surprised you haven't exploded into some heated canoodling session by now. You've got this amazing doll who took a chance on you, who's beautiful and smart and willing to put up with you despite the Captain America baggage you now drag behind you – and I'm not just saying this because she's my sister, I'm saying it because it's true and everyone but you seems to recognise it."
"Steve, if you're waiting for the perfect time, there's no better time than now," Peggy adds helpfully, looking sympathetic to Steve's worried glances. "You've both been so busy and barely spoken the last few weeks. She misses you and you miss her. Both of you are free tonight. There's no meetings or tests or missions. Make the most of it."
Bucky puts a comforting hand on Steve's uniform-clad shoulder. "We're in a war, Stevie. We don't know what tomorrow will bring. You saw that only the other week when you got pulled away from the roof. So why are you hesitating? What are you waiting for now?"
Steve nods at Bucky, seemingly snapping into gear. He squares his shoulders and puff up his chest just a bit more. "Thanks, Bucky, Peg. Go have a good night together, I'll take it from here."
Bucky nods back smugly and doesn't hesitate, taking Peggy by the hand and spinning her onto the dance floor. They immediately start flicking themselves around to the beat, their feet stomping the ground, laughing all along. Steve watches for a second before nodding to himself again.
Steve approaches Isabel slowly, who laughs at a joke Gabe tells her. She does look radiant, to borrow from Howard – red lips, dark hair, pale skin and a burning light coming from inside her. As Steve approaches, the Commandos give him a small salute and a smirk, making their way toward the buffet table and drinks table to give the pair some space.
"Hey, Belle," Steve says quietly from behind her. She spins around to face him, the dress swirling around her body, and her smile seems to light up even more if that were even possible.
"Stevie," she breathes. She hasn't talked to him in so long, just hearing his voice makes her heart flutter. Isabel looks down at the dress, swaying back and forth so that it flicks around like it's been caught in the wind. "I love this dress, it's so beautiful. Thank you so much."
With that she comes toward him, kissing his cheek in thanks. When she pulls away, she laughs, an angelic noise that makes Steve's heart flutter, using her thumb to wipe away the kiss mark on his cheek.
"You look radiant, beautiful," Steve tells her honestly, catching her hand and holding it in his own. Isabel smiles, looking away from Steve as her cheeks blush. "You want to dance? I think I may have gotten the hang of it on the rooftop the other night."
"Yes, I'd love to," she answers, letting Steve lead her by the hand.
As they walk off the Commandos start to hoot for them, already having had a bit much to drink and downing a few more glasses at the drinks table. Steve ignores them and makes his way into the middle of the crowd of dancers so they are concealed from the Commandos. They pass Bucky and Peggy as they go, who've gathered a crowd of spectators as they pull off some impressive moves.
The song is rather upbeat and fast, so Steve and Isabel start off by attempting a jive, Isabel moving elegantly through the steps and dragging Steve behind her, talking him through it patiently. Steve eventually gets the hang of it, swirling Isabel around the room as the steps require and ending the song with a low dip, making Isabel giggle. He lifts her back up, holding her close, and she's panting slightly through her giggles, her cheeks flushed. Thankfully, a slower song starts, their steps slowing to match the beat, and they find themselves swaying together once again.
"Thank God, I don't know if I can learn a new dance yet," Steve laughs, looking flustered.
"You're much better than you used to be. The serum must have helped your dance moves."
They hear the rambunctious laughter of the Commandos over the music and look over, seeing Dugan attempting to sweet talk Private Lorraine in the corner to not much success. She shakes her head no and pulls a face before moving off, leaving Dugan pouting. It's funny, but Steve sickens at the thought of the blonde agent and looks away.
"I'm sorry it's been so long since we've been able to talk. When I found out you'd come by the room and I was asleep, I was pretty disappointed," Steve admits quietly.
"Are you saying I should have let Bucky throw the pillow at you to wake you up?" Isabel chuckles.
"Maybe you could've done it a little nicer," Steve laughs. "I feel like I haven't seen you in weeks."
"Well, that's because you haven't. Not really," Isabel says with a small shrug. "But I get it. You've been flat out, and I've been busy. And I guess a part of me was trying to avoid that inevitable conversation with you. After what happened in France the other week and me joining the Commandos, and our... heated conversation in the hallway afterwards. I was a little scared we'd repeat that, and I didn't want that. I didn't want to fight."
"I don't want to fight, either. I really don't," Steve admits, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I think I was avoiding it, too. Must you join the Commandos? I haven't been able to sleep at night worrying about it," Steve finds himself saying, reminded of the thought.
"I'm sorry about your lack of beauty sleep, though Heaven knows you don't need it anymore, Casanova. But to answer your question, yes, I must," Isabel replies stubbornly.
Steve starts to protest, his brow furrowing. "Isabel–"
"I can't do much to help from here in London, not until you all come back. I don't really understand anything about the serum, monitoring your progress is the extent of my scientific ability. But I can be a nurse, and a medic. I want to come with you. What if one of you got shot again and you weren't only a twenty-minute flight away? What if the emergency medics couldn't get to you? You could die!" Isabel argues.
"You could die, too, being out there."
"I know," she says quietly. "But I could also save lives. Besides, you'll have my back, and the other Commandos. And maybe even Peggy. I'll be fine."
Steve knows this is true; he'd die before he let anyone lay a finger on Isabel. He tells her this and her face softens just a bit. "I can't promise anything," he still says. "I can't promise that I'll always be able to save everyone, I–"
Isabel hushes Steve, boldly reaching up to put her finger over his mouth to stop his talking. "You aren't in charge of saving everyone, that isn't your duty." She sighs. "Can we just have one night where we don't talk about the war? Where we don't even think about it? We can pretend we're back in Brooklyn at St. John's Parish dancing, just like old times."
"Except I'm two heads taller," Steve laughs, jumping on the conversation change.
"And actually dancing, and surprisingly, you aren't doing so bad," Isabel chuckles. Steve takes a slightly smaller step to the left than he had been so far, accidentally stepping on Isabel's toes and revoking her last comment. She sucks in a silent breath of pain. "Don't apologise," she quickly says when Steve opens his mouth to apologise sheepishly. "I'd rather have you step on my feet than not dancing with me at all."
"Still, sorry," Steve laughs.
"So…" Isabel begins, a cheeky smile on her face. "You think I look beautiful?"
Steve sputters, his cheeks and ears turning red. Then he sees Bucky's face in his mind, thinks he feels Bucky's hand smack the side of his head, and pulls himself together. "You are. You always have been, Belle. I don't know if I've ever seen anyone more perfect."
Then, it's Isabel's turn for her cheeks to heat up, and she looks away shyly. Her hand on his shoulder tightens, then moves further up toward the join of his neck and shoulders.
"Another reason why I was so worried about talking to you was because I was trying to work out how we could continue our conversation from the rooftop without me making a fool of myself," Steve says with a laugh, his cheeks still heated and crimson red. "That was quite silly of me, though, to wait, because I think I found the right partner, too," Steve notes, a wave of courage coursing through him at Isabel's reaction.
Isabel's eyes snap back up to him, her eyebrows raised. She seems to calm after a second. "Why did you wait so long to dance with her?"
"Honestly?" Steve says, holding her just a little bit tighter. "I don't know. I think I was too blind to see what was right in front of me. To see that it was possible. I came up with too many excuses as to why it wouldn't work, why it wouldn't be good for you. But now…"
Isabel is silent for a moment, staring at Steve critically. "I always saw greatness and opportunity in you, Steve. I saw possibility and a future, not just for you, but for us. You and me together, it just seemed like it was supposed to be. You didn't need to be plenty rugged and famous for me to see something so clear. I could have been yours years ago."
Steve nods at this, regret written on his features. He licks his lips nervously. "They always say good things come to those who wait, but I've begun to think those who wait are the ones who miss out."
He draws her slightly closer again, if that was even possible. Isabel stiffens slightly in his arms, her heart pounding in her chest, and she wonders whether he can hear it. Her body is pushed almost flush against his own as they continue to sway slowly in a circle. Her cheeks feel like fire, but she forces herself to look into his eyes, and finds nothing but undying love and admiration staring back at her.
"Then why are we still waiting?" She asks, gulping nervously. His face is drawing closer and closer to her own, their noses nearly touching, his head bent slightly to the side to meet hers and overcome to height difference that seems so much more prominent now.
"May I kiss you?" He asks gently, searching her eyes.
She nods in response, her eyes flicking down to his lips. He gently cups her cheek with his palm and guides her lips toward his own, her eyes fluttering shut long before they make contact.
Steve's lips are incredibly soft against her own – warm and solid and comforting. The kiss is lingering and gentle, almost shy, and time seems to halt to a stop, leaving only the two of them in the room. Isabel's hand leaves Steve's shoulder to gently grasp the side of his face while Steve's own thumb runs over her cheekbone as if memorising the feel of her skin against his.
Just as quick as it began, the kiss ends. They pull away slightly, their noses still almost touching, and look into each other's eyes. Isabel begins to smile then, her eyes crinkling and her smile as bright as the sun itself.
"There's that smile I love," Steve finds himself saying, only making her smile brighter.
"I always smile when I'm with you," she tells him.
"Now come on, don't lie. I know I'm a pain in the neck," Steve laughs, bopping her nose for good measure.
"Lucky for you, I'm qualified to treat such pains," she replies with a wink, making Steve laugh again. He groans for good measure.
Steve slowly leans in again and recollects her lips with his own again, still unable to get over the fact that this is happening. Isabel quickly responds, kissing back gently and a little hesitantly, but definitely willingly. Their lips move in sync, as though they'd been sculpted to move in such a way. They pull away and Steve bumps his forehead into her's gently, smiling at her.
"Happy birthday, Belle."