Chapter Text
Steve started out of the dirty window of the train, trying to focus on the delicate stained glass structure of the insect wing pressed against the pane, not the splattered guts smearing the rest of the view. The train conductor made an announcement, not that Steve could understand a lick of the German that was spoken.
He continued to stare out the window as the landscape passed, wishing his art supplies weren’t packed away at the bottom of his suitcase. The blending of greens, grays, and browns made his fingers itch for a paintbrush to capture the swirls and hazy edges of the scene outside his window.
His mind was occupied with thoughts of Monet and the birches stretching towards the German sky when a fellow traveler leaned over and interrupted his reverie, “He said that there will be a delay.” Steve looked over to the speaker, a man with a friendly smile translated the announcement. “There is an issue with the train engine. We will arrive after six thirty.”
“Thank you,” Steve offered a small smile, appreciative of the help but he couldn’t stop the feeling of embarrassment at being so clearly out of his depth.
“You are American.” the stranger observed.
Steve laughed, chagrined “Is it that obvious?”
“Your passport is American,”
“That is a relief, I was worried I was so clearly a dumb tourist. I’m glad it’s just the passport–”
“Also, your train ticket is not a train ticket. You bought a boat ticket. A children’s boat ticket, actually. The conductor tried to tell you but clearly you understood none of it. So perhaps you have both an American passport and appear as a tourist.”
Steve could feel his entire face, all the way up to the tips of his ears, turn bright red with embarrassment. The stranger rested a comforting hand on Steve’s bicep, “Fear not, my friend, Berlin welcomes all travelers, even the charmingly foolish.”
“Well, thank you, I suppose” Steve laughed a little, embarrassed at his error but unable to deny the slight frisson of pleasure that tugged at his stomach at being called charming by a handsome stranger.
Steve’s cheeks were still warm as he tried to change the subject to something other than his own embarrassing exploits “If the other people of Berlin are as welcoming as you then I suppose I made the right choice”
“You will see, my friend, Berlin will welcome you with open arms! You must be my guest this evening, there is this wonderful club. An artist such as yourself will appreciate the art on display there”
Steve opened his mouth to protest but this strange and dynamic stranger actually put a finger to Steve’s lips to hush him. The press of the warm leather gloved fingertip against his mouth made Steve’s brain turn off completely, he found himself nodding along as the stranger told him about a perfectly marvelous club with live music and dancers, hypnotized by the image this stranger painted with his honeyed words.
The train’s brakes squealed as they arrived in a bustling and crowded station. The stranger rose from his seat, draping a fine fur trimmed jacket around his shoulders and pulling Steve up to his feet. “Come now, my friend, welcome to Berlin.”
Chapter Text
The address of the club was nearly impossible to find, Steve had to duck into several dark alleys between rundown shops with boarded up windows. Eventually he gave up trying to find the address himself and followed a trio of girls. Steve could see the glittering hemlines winking out beneath their coats as they hurried down the cobblestone street. He figured that even if the ladies weren’t going to the club he was looking for, they were at least going somewhere interesting.
Steve followed his unwitting guides through the rapidly darkening streets, finally being led to a shabby door where the faint whine of trumpets could be heard. The music pulled Steve in, he hadn’t heard a real jazz band in ages. He descended rickety wooden stairs to discover a thriving and vibrant night club.
Lights were dim, drinks were ferried by sharply dressed waiters, the faint music Steve heard resolved into a swinging number with a full big band, he couldn’t help but smile seeing the couples huddled close to one another at little tables, their faces aglow in candle light. Cigarette smoke wafted through the air, Steve slid into a vacant chair in the back of the room. He felt underdressed seeing the glitz and glamor of the other patrons, fine fabrics and sparkling jewels and shiny gold and silver.
Steve’s eyes wandered around the large underground space, dozens of little tables surrounding a center stage lit up magnificently with dancers moving in hypnotic undulations along with the music. Steve jumped suddenly at the sound of a telephone ringing, he looked around trying to find the source. Steve saw telephones scattered throughout the room, wires criss crossing the floor. He stared, trying to puzzle out why a nightclub would have so many telephones. It wasn’t until a phone jangled at the next table and Steve was able to eavesdrop on half a conversation.
He suppressed a smile as he listened to a partial flirtation. Based on the eye contact two callers made with one another across the room as Steve watched his neighbor take the call, they were talking to each other. Talking to each other and making indecent proposals. Steve could feel the tips of his ears start to burn as a flush bloomed across his face hearing the lovers speak. To avoid spontaneously combusting, Steve turned his attention to the stage in time for the emcee to announce the next act.
A man with darkly painted eyes and lips purred into the microphone, “And now, meine Dammen und Herren, Mesdames et messieurs, Ladies and gentlemen, We are proud to present: A most talented young gentleman from America” A ripple of murmurs spread through the crowd and the emcee grinned at the audience’s incredulity, “Yes, America. Now I give you–and don’t forget to give him back when you are finished with him–the toast of Brooklyn, Bucky Barnes!”
The stage lights dimmed as backup dancers scurried into position on the stage. A spotlight flared and lit up the man Steve could only assume was Bucky Barnes. Steve could feel his pulse start beating a little faster as he took in the sight of the performer. Bucky was tall and well built, his hair long and unbound, his dark lips pouting, his long eyelashes fluttered, bringing attention to the shimmering emerald eyeshadow he wore. His physique was highlighted by the very small amount of fabric that his costume consisted of. Barnes was clad only in a short little satin slip, the delicacy of the fabric only emphasizing the well toned muscles of his thighs and shoulders. Steve wondered how such a big man could wear such a little dress and whether or not the dress would tear, it looked as though the dress was struggling to contain the performer. Steve found himself hoping the strap of the dress would tear.
Steve imagined the way the silken fabric would slip down Barnes’ chest and pool at his feet. He wondered if the performer was as well built everywhere else as his legs and arms were. Steve was hypnotized just looking at the man but when the music started and he started to dance, Steve was breathless. Bucky Barnes sang a ridiculously provocative song despite the slight roughness of voice, his words and the way he danced entranced the audience. Seductive words dripped from Bucky’s lips, the double entendres doing nothing to dispel the blush in Steve’s cheeks.
Barnes was halfway into the second verse before Steve realized the impossibly sinuous dance was made possible by a metal prosthetic arm. There were so many plates and joints within the mechanical arm that it was able to move seamlessly. It must have cost a fortune, most prosthetics were just modeled to look like arms, this one appeared to be fully functional. Steve was amazed by the elegance of the machine, almost as elegant as the man it was attached to.
Finally, the sensual number ended, much to Steve’s disappointment. Steve continued watching the acts, none of them as encapsulating as Bucky Barnes’ number. He found himself lulled into a comfortable haze, the music and cigarettes and gently ringing phones creating an intoxicating environment. Steve could have been there for two minutes or two hours, he wouldn’t have known.
A telephone jangled next to him, Steve glanced around, there was no one around him so he hesitantly picked up the phone.
“Hello?” Steve asked
“Oh you’re American!” the voice on the other end of the telephone explained
“I’m uh sorry to disappoint”
The stranger laughed, “No doll, don’t apologize, it’s been so long since I’ve talked to a real American. Where are you from?”
Steve noted the speaker spoke with a familiar accent before answering, “I’m from Brooklyn.”
“No way,” the stranger said, “I’m from Brooklyn too!”
Suddenly Steve realized who he was talking to, “You’re Bucky Barnes, aren't you?”
“The one and only, tell me Brooklyn boy, what brings you to my club?”
“Your club?”
“Well it’s practically my club,” Bucky’s voice dropped a little of its self assured confidence. “I perform here often enough they should give me a cut of the profits”
“Your performance was amazing by the way,it was… I was totally…” Steve couldn’t find the words to describe how the act affected him.
“Stimulated?” Bucky’s grin was evident even through the phone.
Steve almost dropped the phone, “W-what? No!”
“Relax, I’m just teasing.”
“Don’t be a jerk,” Steve could feel his anger rising, he hated bullies.
“I will if you stop being such a punk,” Bucky laughed in such a charming way that Steve realized he wasn’t serious.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to–”
“So what is it that brought you here? What’s a charming American like you doing all the way over here?”
Steve blushed, embarrassed by the truth, “I’m an artist, I wanted to study the masters. I’m going to France next. I uh want to see Monet’s gardens.” he finished lamely
“You’re an artist? You oughta paint my picture”
“Oh well no, I’m more of a still life–”
Bucky interrupted, “What, am I not pretty enough? Not good enough for your art?” Steve could hear the smile in Bucky’s voice, clearly his feelings hadn’t been hurt. Bucky continued, “Well, doll, speaking of artistry, I have another number to do but I’d love to buy you a drink sometime. Bye now”
Steve heard the click as the other end of the call was hung up. He was disappointed with the call ending but he couldn’t deny that he was excited to drink with the magnetic Bucky Barnes.
Steve continued watching the performances, enjoying the dances and letting himself fully relax. He found his mind occupied with the hypnotic and entrancing Bucky Barnes. His reverie was finally interrupted by a tap on the shoulder. Steve turned to see another of the club’s patrons offering up a telephone receiver, gesturing that Steve should answer the call. Steve was puzzled but took the phone and hesitantly asked “Hello?”
“Hello yourself, stranger” an unknown voice responded
“Who is this?”
The mystery caller laughed, “You don’t recognize me?”
Steve scanned the crowd, trying to find the speaker. “No I don’t, who is this?”
“I guess I’m not surprised you don’t know me by my voice, we didn’t exactly speak much when we last met”
“We’ve met? Wh–”
“London, last June, the Nightingale Club?” the stranger coaxed, trying to jog Steve’s memory.
“Oh god.” Steve’s cheeks burned as he remembered the discreet encounter he had with the stranger, finally remembering the name. “Brock, I didn’t think I’d ever see you again after that…”
“Well today is your lucky day, though, I’m surprised to see you here. I thought you were still dealing with that little… issue. ” Brock trailed off.
Steve grimaced at the reminder of what he had confided in Brock. “Well, I guess you could say that’s why I’m here and not there.” He answered sheepishly.
Well I hope you get that taken care of. You’re too cute to get arrested. Anyways, would you care to join me backstage for a drink?” Brock’s words were dripping with suggestion.
Steve’s blush deepened, he felt a small pit in his stomach as found himself stirring at the suggestion. He nodded, unable to speak, clearly Brock was watching him from somewhere in the crowd. Steve heard a deep chuckle as Brock saw Steve’s acquiescence. “I’ll see you backstage, green door on the left.” There was a soft click as the line disconnected.
JessieLandes on Chapter 1 Tue 03 Jun 2025 01:13AM UTC
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strawberry_poison_dart on Chapter 1 Tue 03 Jun 2025 01:19AM UTC
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JessieLandes on Chapter 1 Tue 03 Jun 2025 01:22AM UTC
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