Chapter Text
Professor Rogers comes into the local University bar, my bar, his arm around his buddy, Dr. JB Barnes. I liked them both. They were polite to the waitstaff, and tipped well when they were hanging out, and I liked hearing Dr. JB go on about robots, engineering problems he was having with pushing Stark's latest creation for more general use. It reminded me that I should put a bug in Tony's ear the next time he was in getting a drink about re-purposing the Europa robot to be used for Pacific Ocean Garbage Gyre cleanup.
Rogers' wife, Assistant District Attorney Margaret "Peggy" Carter was already at the bar, sipping her very olive-y martini. I knew she liked them because the olives took up room, she could sip it for a long time, and stay ahead and on top of her game when people around her were unsober. I'm sure we both hated that we had to use tricks like this, but when I glanced at her and her drink, she gave me a long slow smirk, I guessed, thinking the same thing, that we'd use whatever advantages we could.
Professor Rogers reaches a hand out to Carter, and their fingers entwine. She leans past him to drop a kiss on Dr. JB's cheek, as I notice she and Rogers were playing 'Thumb War" without looking.
Ok, you got me, the other reason I like them coming in as the two of them are fucking adorable. Carter is gorgeous, but that's not her best feature - she's whip smart, incredibly caring and fearless. Having her as an ADA had been good for our city. Prof. Rogers is tall, blond, a professor in Art and History with a hip to shoulder ratio that makes the folks who are attracted to beautiful specimens of manhood cry a little when they see him wearing tweed or khakis, but I just crave Dorito chips. And together? They are squad goals for the heteronormative.
Mulling their ridiculous good looking-ness, I'd already poured and delivered a double scotch, neat with a side of soda water for Dr. Barnes, and was pulling a beer for Prof. Rogers before either of them had a chance to say hello to me.
"You seriously are the best," said Dr. Barnes, leaning over to grab his drink, as I handed Prof. Rogers his beer.
"It's why you come back here, isn't it?" I grin at him, because forgive me, it's not like Dr. Barnes is any slouch himself, especially in those jeans. Can he actually WORK in them? But they do good things for his thighs, so I'm not complaining. He's bulkier than Rogers, but a few inches shorter, and unlike Rogers stodgy khaki and tweed, he tends to wear motorcycle leathers, steel toed work boots and jeans. (Yowza. I might have a type.) But I really like him for his gorgeous blue eyes - there's a darkness and a kindness there, and I like to think of the stories they may know.
He grins over his drink back at me, and turned to toast Rogers and Carter before heading to a table.
#
Carter had come in one afternoon, looking a little frazzled. "Your usual, ADA Carter?" I ask.
"Oh, I wish, my dear, but I have to head back into work tonight after dinner with the boys," she said, the accent of her childhood spent in England coming out, as it often did when she was tired.
"Ah, so Vodka Tonic, extra special?" I say - that's our code for soda water with a lime, so people around her think she's drinking, but she's just hydrating. Another one of those dumb tricks, but I taught her that one after she told me about the extra olives in the extra dry, extra dirty martinis she normally drank.
"Yes, darling, that sounds splendid," she responds. "I haven't told you recently how much I appreciate how well you take care of us around here."
I shrug, "You don't make it hard, Ms. Carter. Its my pleasure."
She smiled, "Well, I do want you to know its appreciated, sweets."
"Right back 'atcha, ADA Carter. Now, go eat your dinner, and afterwards, go put some bad guys in jail," I say, cleaning the bartop to avoid showing any reaction to her calling me darling or sweets. Surely its just English slang? She's tired. That's all it is.
Her grin is wry, but her eyes are sparkling at me. "When I win this one, you'll have to let me buy you a drink, darling."
What's with the darling again?? We're both tired. That's what it is. Out loud, "What, 'cause those of us who stay behind to take care of you fighters are important too?" I try to laugh it off, because even if she's married, I am not dead.
"Yes." she responds, looking right at me, not letting her gaze drop until I drop mine, flushing a little, suddenly embarrassed by how much it means that she sees me, and likes me too.
#
Stark comes in, followed by a robot. "Hey, Tony, what'd I tell you about bringing objects that could explode into my bar?" I yell.
"Not to do it?" he said, "But come on, you 'll like this one, I designed it to help ... "
"No, Tony. Get that possibly exploding 'bot OUT of here," I state, very firmly, at him.
I hear the robot's tiny little beeps as it rolls around in circles. How does it manage to sound sad that I wont allow it to stay? Tony knows what happened the last time: his robot blew up in one of the bathrooms, leaving me down a toilet for a week. I did however leave both bathrooms as unisex when we remodeled.
"But I got the 'splodey part fixed. This will clean the bathrooms and take itself out for a wash afterwards," he said, very excitedly, waving his arms around.
Dr. JB Barnes walks in the front door, looks at us both, and says, calmly, "Tony, that robot is starting to smoke. I believe it may catch on fire."
"OUT! OUT damned robot!" I yell. It continues to beep sadly as it rolls out, and a couple of long seconds later, I hear a 'pooft' noise. I look out of the front door, leaning on Barnes, to see flames coming out of the top of the robot while Tony runs around. He grunts at my weight on him. "Sorry," I mutter.
He looks up at me, "Nah, the weight's nice, gorgeous. I came in to see ya, but ..." and he gestures.
I lean over, keeping my weight on his shoulders, to grab one of the many extinguishers I have under the coat hangers and bench by the front door, and hand it to Dr. Barnes, who salutes me as he jogs out to rescue his student.
(Or maybe the robot, it's hard to tell.)
(There's an awful lot of muscle under that shirt, I think, shaking my head.)
#
A few weeks later, I'm helping the caterers at one of those occasional fundraisers that involve a lot of people with a lot of money who had gone to the school, and also all the professors who appreciated their regular paychecks. Prof. Rogers came by to grab a couple of beers for him and JB, and his smile when seeing me behind the bar almost made my evening, "Hey! This is a surprise! I didn't know you worked these things, too,"
"Aww, yea, normally I don't - but the caterer was short bartenders, and we're old friends," I reply, smiling back at him.
"Well, keep the money supplied with the good stuff, will ya? JB could really use some extra help in the Engineering department."
"Don't the patents on whatever latest wacky thing that Stark and he developed bring in enough?" I laughed.
Prof. Rogers looked at me, showing some surprise, "You keep up on Barnes' latest patents? But no, not quite enough, Barnes has an idea that's going to need a bit more research capital."
I pour a red wine for another professor and hand it to her, smiling at her grateful look, "Yes, even tho Tony exploded one in my bar, I really like robots. Professor Barnes is doing some really interesting work!" I say, excitedly, waving my hands around a little like Tony. "I'm curious about this new project! Was it the plastic eating robots to clean the ocean, or maybe something similar to BayMax, helping out in warzones instead of hospitals, or something else amazing?" I say.
I look back at Prof. Rogers, who's got one eyebrow raised at me, looking astounded, even a little taken aback at my interest and excitement. I flush with an instant anger, and drop my eyes. Why couldn't a bar owner be interested in robots, or engineering? I couldn't afford to go to this school, but it wasn't like running a business didn't take a certain amount of brains, and I liked to read, plus they were both actually really good patrons of my bar, and neither of them were shy about talking to me when I asked questions.
It was frankly old and super boring that folks looked at me funny when I said stuff that seemed too smart for what I did. Not wanting Rogers to see my anger, I walked over to the other side of the bar and started serving other people. I was particularly annoyed at him because he was married to Peggy Carter, for fuck's sake, and if there ever was a package that looked unlike the steel and sheer will underneath, I hadn't met her. I did catch out of the corner of my eye that he at least had the grace to look embarrassed.
As he turned to hand Dr. Barnes a beer, I saw them clink the beers together with their left hands while their right hands reached casually entwine to play 'Thumb War' as well. Where they were, no one should have noticed it, but because I was mad at Rogers, and I was being hyperaware of him, I was looking, and I did see, and it hit me: Dr. JB Barnes, Professor Rogers and ADA Carter were all together. Like with each other as a triad together. At the very least Rogers was with both of the other two. And they played 'Thumb War' without looking at their hands. Like how was that even fair that they were all so stupidly cute?
I wracked my brains to see if I noticed Barnes doing that to Carter, but they were really careful, and I hadn't. I also knew at a gut level that Rogers wasn't cheating on Carter to be with Barnes. Don't tell me how, other than I knew that Rogers couldn't lie his way out of a paper sack, and that I'd seen enough of Barnes interacting with Carter to know that they couldn't, wouldn't lie to each other.
I was still annoyed at Rogers, but at the same time: flat out, completely jealous. Talk about squad goals, this was the sort of thing my queer, polyamorous heart couldn't take. (We wont talk about how long its been since I was in any relationship that wasn't battery operated.)
I kept serving beer and wine to the attendees, heartbroken and annoyed at what I realized about the three of them, heartbroken and annoyed at Rogers for not being perfect. For the rest of the evening, I worked, my smile never reaching past my lips, my eyes never seeing anyone's face.