Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Steve was weary; he felt like he was nothing more than a few scraps of cloth sewed together over bone, a marionette from older days, one that was ready for the junker’s bin.  He had been up all day dealing with Bucky’s estate, having been called to the Grand Executor’s residence in the early hours in the morning when the news of Bucky’s now certain demise had come in through the wire.  He hadn’t eaten a thing since the bleak breakfast of dry toast he had scrounged in the Maximoff Inn’s dining room before the sun had come up, and he hadn’t eaten nearly enough, his stomach was too queasy to handle much more than a few slices. 

Steve had dealt with hunger before, and exhaustion – those were the two staples of a soldier’s diet these days.  The war had started fifteen years prior, when Steve was still a teenager; back before the super soldier serum had coursed through his veins, he had always been hungry, and the war had made things so much worse.  Hunger he knew.  What he wasn’t used to was the ache in his ribs, the ache in his heart.  The words had been more painful to hear than to read on the telegram he had been handed at the Inn’s front desk – hearing the Grand Executor, that bastard who lived in splendor while everyone else was begging for scraps as the war continued on outside the city, say that Bucky was gone, that the search was over even though the army had found no body had been harder than anything he had gone through and that included his own mother’s death.  It had made him angry too, far angrier than he had ever been.  The Grand Executor had read Bucky’s will so goddamned calmly; it had been worse than a stabbing, and Steve had suffered through plenty of those, both in battle and before.  It was like the Grand Executor hadn’t cared at all – and of course, he hadn’t.  The Grand Executor hadn’t known Bucky; he likely didn’t know more than a single percent of the men and women whose wills he handled in any given day.  The man was a bureaucrat – a paper pusher, bred and raised to it, a man who lived with fine silver and wine as his steady house guests.  The Grand Executor didn’t know about war, or death or what it was like to have to scrape together money to survive starvation in the winter.  He merely read things aloud and doled out legal documents that needed signatures.  The Grand Executor lived off the fees paid to him by those who made wills – he lived by leeching the wealth from the very pockets of the soldiers who came to him knowing that death would likely be the outcome of their service for Queen and Country. 

It had been a long time since Steve had drawn up his own will and handed over the fee to have the Grand Executor keep his papers in order.  He had served as the Captain for fourteen years now as the Queen’s propaganda tool, a super soldier who could crush anything.  Yet there were a few things he couldn’t crush, and that was death.  He was strong, but he couldn’t stop that from claiming the people he loved.   

Still, Steve supposed there were worse ways to spend a day, far worse things to do instead of waiting around in a plush office for someone to read Bucky’s papers aloud.  He could think of a few worse days easily, without even really having to dig too deeply into memory.  And to think, he had once thought that the worst thing was being laughed at by one of Bucky’s dates.  He was numb now, and everything seemed almost funny when he knew it shouldn’t.  It was like he was floating about in a dream, waiting to wake up. 

The day he had found out Bucky had gone missing on the battlefield had been far, far worse than this day.  He loved Bucky with all of his heart.  He hadn’t wanted to leave Bucky behind in the thick of things, not permanently at least, but he had been replaced as The Captain, his shoes filled by another man who could fit the same masked uniform, one who wasn’t so tired and aching inside.  The news of Bucky’s disappearance had left him sobbing and begging to leave on a mission to recover Bucky, but there had been no one to cover his work, and too many dead already to justify leaving to look for one man no matter how important, how good of a friend that man might have been.   The shock of the army’s response, the thought that Bucky being gone and there being no one to look for him –  of Bucky’s body nowhere to be found – had taken Steve to his knees and despite his superhuman strength, he hadn’t been able to make himself get up again. 

They had sent him home from the Queen’s War, relegated to a job of stacking crates that were to be sent to the Front.  He had tried to barter and fight his way back to the Front but after he had been caught for the tenth time, it was made plain to him that he would not return to the field or to his team, not unless Countess Commander Danvers gave her permission, and she had been more than clear that Steve wasn’t wanted there anymore – not needed there, she had put it.  She meant it as a kindness, he knew, but it didn’t feel like it.  He and the Countess Commander had fought side by side together for years.  She was simply looking out for his wellbeing just as Bucky had.  She and Bucky had often joked about setting Steve up with a nice dame or fellow once the War was over.  The offer had seemed sweet then.  Now he wasn’t sure what he would do if she suggested something like that - not now that Bucky was gone. 

It was the stress of battle that had been his ticket home, Countess Commander Danvers had told him, looking sad, as though the news was sending her home as well.  There had been too many sleepless nights for Steve, too many near deaths and far too many fits of panic for him to be of any use amongst the other soldiers as anything other than cannon fodder; Steve had been good at his job, better than most, really, but he had seen things on the Front that had changed him and everyone, it seemed, knew that.  They couldn’t have a Captain who couldn’t march tirelessly in battle.  They couldn’t have one that was tired of killing.  A letter had fallen into the Countess Commander’s hands a month, and that had been that; a month after Bucky’s disappearance, another letter had appeared.  That was what had really sent him home, even if the Countess Commander wouldn’t admit it.    The letter had been sent by his friend, Margaret Carter, and she had spoken her concerns to Steve before she had done it.  Bucky had asked her to do it in case of the worst, and she had agreed readily.  She had been afraid he might throw himself into the thick of things and end it all once Bucky’s body was found.  She had had no hope of Bucky returning alive and she had mourned deeply for him the same as Steve.  She wanted Steve to be safe – safe from himself as well as the enemy, and Bucky had wanted that too.    Steve had been put on the train from the box yard and shipped back to town before the mud on his boots could dry.

It had been a month since that day, a month spent reading papers regaling people with The Captain’s supposed victories in the war, a month spent living in the Maximoff Inn while his brothers and sisters in arms lived in filth and blood.   And then the letter from the Queen’s agents had arrived.  Bucky had been declared killed in action, becoming a hero in death despite the fact that they hadn’t been able to recover his body. 

Bucky was gone.

The war was over now – for him at least. 

That was the funny thing.  Everyone else could see the War and watch it rage on, but he was expected to stay at home and ignore it.  Yet there was no one to come home to, no family, no Bucky.  He was alone now, more alone than he had been on the Front. 

The Grand Executor’s notice of requested appearance had changed things.

Steve hadn’t known that Bucky had made him the sole inheritor of his earthly possessions.  They had never been rich – hell, most days before the War they had been camped out in cheap boarding houses, sharing an apartment when they could scrape together the money, living from paycheck to paycheck; most days when they had struggled to find work, they had eaten whatever they could find, mouldy or not.  Steve didn’t have much in his.  What would someone want with his sketchbooks?  With his tattered clothes, and broken pencils?  Everything he owned was in his battered duffle.  There were no surprises, no property from his family and certainly nothing of real value or consequence.  But Bucky, it seemed, had things to share.  He had taken the time to put together a will far thicker than the standard soldier’s document, and he had been more than happy to stick Steve in it without so much as saying a word about it. 

Steve had known that Bucky hadn’t been entirely broke.  Two weeks before they had joined the war effort as part of the Queen’s Army, Bucky had inherited his grandfather’s home and estate – not that it had been in a liveable state or worth much, according to Bucky.  The older Barnes had spent years waiting to drop the property on a member of his family; he had disowned Bucky’s father when the man had refused to follow him into work as an Alchemist, and for years they had feuded about who should inherit.  Once Bucky’s father and mother had died, the decision had been easier.  Bucky’s grandfather had given it to Bucky in the hopes that the young man would have children that would follow in his educated footsteps – unlike the rest of the family, who had bypassed school and gone on to work in the factories and warehouses.  The requirements he had placed on his own son hadn’t extended to Bucky.  Bucky’s grandfather had offered everything up freely and without attachments, not wanting to leave his wealth and inheritance to the Queen’s Estate, worrying that she might liquidate his assets and have his beloved home knocked down for better prospects to take its place.  It was a kind gift, but a useless one as well.   

What Bucky’s grandfather had left Bucky was an eclectic collection of ancient tools, literature and his beloved house; there had been no money when all things were said and done.  Most of what had been in his accounts had gone to pay his funeral costs, and everything else had gone to his debtors, men and women who had come crawling out of the woodwork like carpenter ants.  The building Bucky had been left with was old, an ancient thing that had required considerable upkeep, and the Alchemic Forge in the lower levels had made it quite costly to start any repairs because no one would touch a house with one in it for fear of being sued.  Bucky hadn’t wanted to keep the place.  He had complained bitterly about it every chance he got, and had argued that sinking his meager paycheck into its upkeep was a waste of good money.  Steve had been under the impression that Bucky had put it on the market for sale while they were at war, but that had never, it seemed, come to pass.  The building had been kept locked up, waiting for him to return to deal with it.  Now it seemed he would never get the chance.  It was in Steve’s hands instead.

The Grand Executor had been very frank with Steve when he had reached the end of the will and started in on its requirements to take ownership.  James Buchanan Barnes had insisted on including stipulations in his will, and if they were not complied with, Steve wouldn’t inherit a single copper.  Steve had been flabbergasted by the announcement.  He hadn’t thought Bucky would include him in anything at all, considering they had never really talked about it.  Of course, once he heard the stipulations, he wasn’t much happier.  What had Bucky been thinking when he had drafted the damn thing?

“You are to go to the Wasp and Ant brothel down in the Red District and make a purchase of the Wasp’s choosing,” the Grand Executor had said, an amused look in his eye.  “After which, you will pick up the token left for her and return to the Grand Executor for the keys, lockbox and deed to the house.”  The man had been kind enough to ask if Steve had understood what any of that had meant, and Steve had nodded along, feeling far too disoriented to ask any questions. The stipulations were so very, very like Bucky.  He could almost hear Bucky’s laughter in his ear.

This left Steve with a problem. 

He had hired company for friends while they were home from the Front on leave, and had done it again once even while they were at the Front, but he had never actually hired anyone for himself. 

When he had been growing up, he had always been a stick of a boy, far too thin to attract attention that was kind.  Most people had taken one look at him and turned away, sure that he would die once winter came.  Sickly children didn’t last long in Brooklyn.  He had been lucky.  His mother, Sarah Rogers, had been a down-on-her-luck sort of lady ever since her husband had died but she was incredibly strong, and when no one had expected her to be able to afford her son’s medical bills she had persevered and worked three times as hard as she had had to to keep her son alive.  She had scraped by, but her job as a nurse hadn’t given her much in the way of time off, so she had been forced to leave Steve, when he was bedridden, alone with only their neighbor’s excitable son – Bucky – for company.  Bucky had been the one who had run off and hired company; he had reveled in the wickedness of the act, spending every last dime he had owned on buying someone for the night – or so he had said.  Steve had never known what had really happened behind closed doors, and while Bucky had bragged, he had never given Steve any real details.  Bucky’s parents had hated his choice of companions; Bucky had spread his time equally between men and women, and when they had insulted him for it he had done it more and more often just to make them angrier.  Steve didn’t think badly of the company Bucky had kept; the courtesans, as they called themselves had been kinder than most.  The women and men in Brooklyn, their childhood home, had been gentle enough folk – not too rich, but not too poor either.  The courtesans had been the ones patting him on the head and offering him food more often than not.  Everyone else had spat at him or shoved him out of their way.

The courtesans in the Queen’s city were a different sort of people.  Here there was an entire district devoted to them, but he rarely saw them outside of the brothels they called home.  Those brothels were open around the clock and a night of pleasure could cost as much as a man’s monthly wages.  There were courtesans here who took only pennies for their pay, yes, but there were far less of them than there had been when Steve was growing up.  The brothels Steve had walked past were places that catered to all sorts of different things.  He had heard rumors of some services costing as much as a Gold Sorel – a year’s wage – and most of those whispers came from the staff who attended the courtesans at the Wasp and Ant.  According to Bucky, the courtesans at the Wasp and the Ant were special, entertainers as well as servants of the brothel.

Bucky had been a big fan of the Queen’s city’s brothels.  He had dragged Steve down to visit them every time they were in the city – which become more and more frequent as the years went by, and eventually those quiet rooms had become their home away from home.  Their place Brooklyn became too expensive to live in year-round.  The commute was expensive, sometimes more than they made in two or three day, and neither of them could afford to pay for a place to rent on their own so they had stuck together.  The brothels in the Queen’s city could be handy, a cheap place to spend the night, but neither of them had ever set foot in the Wasp and Ant.  Steve wondered idly if this was some kind of joke – a way for Bucky to pull his leg from beyond the grave.  It was strange that Bucky had picked this brothel in particular since he had never claimed to have gone there. 

Steve went back to the Maximoff Inn after waiting patiently for copies of Bucky’s Will to be written out for him and headed straight to bed after a cold supper of bread and hard cheese.  Tomorrow he would get himself cleaned up and head out to the Wasp and Ant.  He knew he wasn’t going to enjoy his visit, but at least this way he would be honoring Bucky’s last request, however bizarre it was.

It took him far longer than he expected to leave bed the next morning.  Once he did, still weary, he paid the bill and was forced to admit that he didn’t have enough for another day’s rent.  He set out to the Queen’s Office to seek out his next, and final paycheck.  By the time he made it back from the line with the other men and women who had returned from the front, the light was already dying on the horizon, and the air had picked up a chill.  He hugged his duffle to his chest, watching for muggers and headed down the road to the Red District, hoping to arrive unmolested.  He had been given quite the bonus this time, likely at the Countess Commander Danver’s instruction.  He had over three hundred silvers in his bag, and a hundred coppers.  She had been far too generous, but he wasn’t going to say no to the money – not now that he was essentially a vagrant.  He was proud, but he wasn’t stupid.  He hid his newfound wealth well, not wanting to attract attention.  A woman he walked past was not quite so lucky.  Three men came out of the alley and leapt on her; she was a waifish little thing, no more than a hundred pounds or so – no match for three attackers with weapons, although she could take one at a time quite easily.  She fought them with such ferocity Steve was reminded of a wasp trapped in under a glass.  He dropped his duffle to the floor and sprang into action, helping her subdue the remaining two attackers, glad for his size.  Erskine’s super soldier serum had given him strength and he wasn’t going to waste it even if he did feel adrift in a sea of misery.

The woman smiled at Steve when they were done, her short auburn hair in utter disarray.  She was dressed in a short black-and-yellow skirt made of silk, and her face was made up for a night on the town, her lips scarlet and her eyes lined with black kohl; her eyes sparkled with mischief as she looked down at her defeated attackers.  “Well, I didn’t expect that tonight,” she said, dusting off her gloved hands.

Steve laughed.  “I don’t think anyone plans to be attacked in the middle of the night, if that’s any consolation.”

The woman chuckled darkly.  “Oh, I wouldn’t say I didn’t know it was going to happen – I just didn’t think it would be today, that’s all.  Down here, there’s always someone looking out for a heavy purse to swipe.”  She held out here hand.  “I’m Janet.”

“I’m Steve,” Steve said, shaking her hand.  “Do you need an escort home?”

Janet wrinkled her nose.  “That’s an interesting choice of words there, sweetheart,” she said.  “But sure.  I could use an escort.”

Steve scooped up his bag and turned to find her rolling one of her attackers over with her boot.  She frowned at the man, pursing her ruby red lips as she looked him over, her hands finding their way to her hips.

“Someone you know?”  Steve asked, slinging his duffle over his arm.

“You could say that,” she said with a sigh.  “They’re the usual oafs – the kind we hire for security sometimes down at the club.  I guess I’m going to have to talk to Hank about getting them taken off the roster and blacklisted.  I don’t think anyone’s going to feel safe with a bunch of thieves watching their backs.”

“Probably not,” Steve said. 

Janet looped her arm through Steve’s, tugging him away from the unconscious men.  “Oh well.  Let’s leave them here for the Watchmen.  They’ll clean up the mess.  It’s their job, after all.”

“I don’t know,” Steve said, scowling at their unconscious attackers.  He didn’t like thieves and muggers all that much, but the thought of leaving them lying out in the open didn’t sit well with him either – not with what he knew about the city.  He didn’t want to have to drag them off to the Watchmen’s Building, but it would be safer for the villains if he did.  It took hours for the Watchmen to process people these days.  Still, he didn’t have the time to waste tonight.

Janet patted him on the shoulder.  “The patrols come through here every fifteen minutes or so.  I saw one while I started my walk, so they should be around again soon.  The cretins be fine.”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly.  “I guess it’s alright then.”

“You’re a real treat,” Janet laughed.  “Don’t worry about them, darling.  They’re not worth the time.  Besides, this isn’t the first time the Watchmen have found the remains of fools who jumped the wrong lady.  Come on, I’ve got to get back to work.  Hank’s going to be grumpy if I’m late again.”  She tugged Steve along the street, leading the way while still glancing up at Steve every once in a while.

“So where are we going?”  Steve asked after a minute of silence.  He had been around the Red District before, but he didn’t know every little place here; he hoped he would be able to find his way back to the main gates when he was finished walking her home – if it was home she was headed to.

“I work at the Wasp and Ant,” Janet said, patting Steve’s arm.  “I’m assuming you’re from out of town?”

“I’ve been back the Front for a month now, but no, I’m not new in town,” Steve said, neatly sidestepping a pile of rotting fruit.  “I just don’t normally come down here, that’s all.”

“Oh?”  Janet turned, eyeing Steve as though she suspected he was lying.

He flushed under her scrutiny, all too keenly aware that she was reading him far better than most people did.  “What?”  he asked.  “Did I say something strange?”

Janet’s smile returned brighter than ever.  She leaned against Steve’s arm, using him to avoid stepping on the remains of a broken barrel.  “It’s not that,” she said, tugging him towards a new street.  “It’s more of a surprise, I suppose, that’s all.”

“A surprise?”  Steve cocked an eyebrow.  “What’s surprising about me?”

“You are one of life’s mysteries,” she said, patting his arm again.  “You’ve never been into a brothel on your own, have you?  At least not to purchase someone for yourself.”

Steve sighed.  “Is it that obvious?”

“To those who know the look, yes,” Janet chuckled.  “What brings you here, if you don’t mind my asking?  Did you get lonely?”

“I’m here to fulfil a debt,” Steve said, patting his coat pocket where Bucky’s will was hidden, still folded neatly.  “I’m supposed to go to the Wasp and Ant to buy something the Wasp chooses – whoever that is.”

“You don’t sound so happy about that,” Janet said, smirking.  “What’s wrong?  Scared of all the naked men and women waiting for you?”

“No,” Steve sputtered, ducking his head.  “I just don’t know why Bucky wrote it into his will, that’s all.  I think he just wanted to laugh at me from beyond the grave.”

“Bucky Barnes died?”  Janet paused, turning in Steve’s arm.  “Oh, dear.  I’m sorry to hear that.  He was a good man.”

“You knew him?” Steve asked.

“In a way.  He was a good customer and he was loved by quite a few people on the staff of the Wasp and Ant.  But if this unexpected purchase is in his will, he must have been serious then.  People usually don’t do that sort of thing unless they mean business.”

“That’s what the Grand Executor said,” Steve sighed, shaking his head.

“You should show it to me,” Janet said, peeling off her gloves.  “I’m good with business documents.”

Steve smiled sadly.  He had no doubt that Janet knew what she was talking about, although he had a feeling she was involved in a slightly different business than most.  He fished the copy of Bucky’s will out of his pocket, confidant that she wasn’t going to rob him and wander off with it and handed it to her.

Janet unfolded the will, running her gloved fingers over the creases as she smoothed them out.  She frowned at the words as she read, tapping the paper with her index finger as she moved from one line to the next.  When she was done, she folded the paper up and handed it back.  “This is quite the will,” she said, looping her arm through Steve’s again.

“Any advice?”  Steve asked as she led him down the street again.  There was a mansion at the end of the block, a gaudy yellow and black thing with five floors and at least thirty rooms.  Steve could just make out the sign hanging above the door.  This was the Wasp and Ant.

“Well,” Janet said, leading Steve up the front steps.  “The first thing is to remember to breathe, and act natural.”  She pulled open the front door, flashed a smile at the three men standing guard in the entrance hall and dragged Steve into the foyer.  Steve had never been in a building with such a large staircase; the steps were carved out of darkly stained wood, big enough to accommodate three or four people across and thick enough to hold even the heaviest patron.  The walls were painted a dark ruby red, framed by wooden beams and black marble floor.  Each step they took brought them deeper and deeper into the building.  There was a bar off at the back beside yet another grand staircase, and tables were scattered around the room, everything lit by the yellow glow of electricity. 

Steve tried not to gawk.

He hadn’t seen a light bulb since his time working as a part time cleaning boy at the Apothecary.  Most places weren’t wired into the grids, and those that were charged outrageous fees to keep the light going after dark.  He had thought only the rich had places like this, but apparently the Wasp and Ant were doing better than he had suspected.  The rumors were true.

Janet smiled and shook hands as she made her way through the crowd, dragging Steve along behind her.  She approached the bartender, a stern looking bald man with dark skin, an impeccable goatee and brown eyes, and gave him a kiss on the cheek.  “How’s business today, Luke?  How’s the wife and Danny?”  She asked, patting the barstool beside her.  “Sit down, Steve.  Take a load off.  We’re going to be here a while.”

Steve sat obediently, happy to be ignored for the time being.  The patrons were scattered about around the room tended by maids dressed in yellow and black uniforms that were exact replicas of Janet’s outfit and butlers dressed in black and red.  Most had crystal ware in their hands, from which they sipped wine and other expensive looking drinks.  Steve glanced at the bar and had to turn away, horrified by the number of bottles he saw in the shelves behind the counter.  There was enough liquor here to drown a squadron for weeks!  How had they stayed so well supplied with the war on their doorstep?

“I got jumped again,” Janet said, tapping the bar.  “Give me a glass of the red, will you dear?”  The bartender smiled and filled up a glass, handing it to her without comment.  She took a slug of the drink, letting out a little gasp of pleasure and set the glass down on the bar.  “Where were we?  Oh yes.  I was attacked.”

“Were they people you knew?”  Luke asked, leaning against the bar.  “I can hunt them down if you want.”

“Don’t worry about it.  If I needed a hero to hire, I’d come right to you.  Steve here helped me out and walked me home,” Janet said, winking at Steve.  “He’s a real peach, isn’t he?”

“Sure,” Luke grunted, polishing a glass with a cleaning cloth.  “He seems swell.”

“He’s here because his friend Bucky Barnes is a jerk and put him in his will,” Janet said.  She stroked Steve’s arm.  “Isn’t that a hoot?”

Luke sighed.  “Did they find him finally?”

“No,” Steve said.  “He’s been declared killed in action.”

“What did he send you here for?” Luke asked, glancing over at Janet.  “If he’s making a purchase, we’ve only go the A-graders out on the floor tonight.”

Janet flapped her hand at Luke, giggling.  “Apparently what he buys is my choice,” she said.

Steve turned on his stool, mindful of the smooth leather he was sitting on.  “Your choice?  You’re the Wasp?” 

Janet goggled at him for a moment and then burst into laughter, slapping the counter with the flat of her hand.  She turned to Luke, leaning closer.  “Oh dear gods.  You think I work here, don’t you?”

Luke’s snort was so loud it nearly sent Steve jumping from his stool.

“You don’t?”  Steve asked, confused.  “But I thought you said you needed to go back to work?”

Janet hopped up onto a stool and sat, crossing one long slender leg over the other.  “I own the place.  I’m Janet Van Dyne.”

Steve swallowed down his discomfort.  “Oh,” he said, his voice cracking.  “I didn’t uh… know.”

“I’m not surprised,” Luke said, nodding towards Janet.  “She likes to dress like the maids because she gets a laugh out of seeing people squirm.”

“You’re cruel,” Janet grumbled, knocking back another sip of wine.  “I don’t know why I keep you around.”

“You keep me because I beat the shit out of the riffraff,” Luke chuckled.  He moved away to serve a customer and then slid back into the conversation, a glass and polishing rag held in hand.  “So who are you going to set him up with then?  It’s your choice Barnes asked for, after all.  He had quite a few favourites.”

Janet hummed and looked out at the crowd.  Steve knew that the courtesans were out on the floor, plying their trade, but for the first time in a long time he couldn’t tell them apart from the patrons themselves.  Janet was oblivious to his confusion.  She looked here and there, scanning the crowd, tapping her finger on her lower lip.  “What do you think, Luke?  Do you think he’d like Drew?”

Luke eyed the crowed overtop of his mug as he wiped it down.  “I don’t know.  I’m not in that business – you’re the one with the eye for it,”

“Flatterer,” Janet purred, leaning back against the bar.  She sniffed at the remainder of her wine, swirling it in her glass.  She looked Steve over and then turned back to the crowd.  “What do you like in your men?”

“Men?”  Steve sputtered.  How had she known?

Janet rolled her eyes.  “Steve, darling, we don’t just have women working here.  We’ve got some lovely men here who know how to treat a gentleman like yourself to a very, good, time.”

“I’ve never really thought about it,” Steve said, looking at the crowd instead of at Janet’s knowing smile.  She was right about the men being lovely; some of them were even more beautiful than the paintings he had seen in the museums.  Some of them had long hair, some short.  They were dressed to look as impressive as possible; he wasn’t surprised by their impeccable grooming and expensive clothing.  They were here to work after all – this was merely their business attire.

“Do you have a preference?”  Janet asked, leaning closer to here Steve.  “Anyone here catch your eye?” 

“I – no.  Not really,” Steve said, clearing his throat.  He glanced at the crowd again, unsure of where he should be looking.  Everyone here was so – elegant.  He had been with soldiers for so long, it was strange to see people chatting and relaxing like this; even though he had been home for over a month, he hadn’t been out much.  He had spent most of his time hiding away in his room, trying to catch up on the sleep that had eluded him for weeks.

Janet sighed, shaking her head.  “I suppose I’ll have to pick one for you then,” she said.  She snapped locked eyes with someone and snapped her fingers, drawing their attention.  A slender man slunk through the crowd towards the bar, a glass of wine in hand.  He was dressed in a shirt made of red and gold silk, his black waistcoat hugging his body in a way that made Steve want to tear it off of him.  His hair was long enough to be pulled back, but wasn’t; instead, it hung down around his chin in curls, as thought he was waiting for someone to run their fingers through it.  He had the darkest hair Steve had ever seen, and thick lashes to match.  His complexion was almost too perfect, and at once Steve knew that he had been made up with masterful precision, although he couldn’t tell if it was from the man’s own hand or another’s.  Even his goatee was perfectly trimmed, leaving not a hair out of place.  This was one of the courtesans, Steve realized.  The stranger’s warm brown eyes widened almost comically when he noticed Steve; he looked away quickly, a smooth smile at the ready and turned to Janet.  “Mistress Van Dyne,” he said, bowing his head.  His long bangs drifted in front of his face for a moment and he swept them away, tucking them back behind his ears.  “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Tony,” Janet said, sniffing at her wine.  “Are you having a busy night tonight?  Or are you free?”

“I just started my shift for the night,” Tony said, a hand dropping to his hip.  “My usual patrons aren’t in tonight, so I’m a little lonely at the moment, but I’m sure business will pick up.”

Janet chuckled.  “Good.  Then I’ve got someone for you,” she said.  She turned on her stool, giving Steve a slow smile.  “He’s good looking, isn’t he?”

Steve tried to keep his face blank, but his cheeks didn’t seem to want to agree with his decision, flaring a bright pink.  “He’s uh, yes.”

Tony smirked at Steve, running a finger over his lower lip.  “Oh?  Is he my patron for tonight?”

Janet patted Steve on the shoulder.  “He is indeed,” she said.  “Take him up to the Gold Suit and show him a good time, will you?”

Tony nodded to Jan, flashing Steve a smile.  “Well, my Lord?  Shall we go somewhere more private?”

“I’m not a Lord, but alright.”  Steve slipped off of his stool and hesitated, turning to look at Janet.  Should he really be doing this?  He had never slept with someone before, let alone a courtesan and it seemed far too much like neither of them had any choice in the matter.  He had wanted sex to mean something – he had told Bucky this over and over again, but Bucky had never seemed to understand.  Was this really what he wanted?  Was this what Bucky had meant when he had said that the owner of the Wasp and Ant was to choose something for him to buy?

“Go on,” Janet said, patting Steve on the shoulder.  “You’ll be fine, I promise.  He won’t hurt you unless you beg him to.”

Tony looped an arm around Steve’s waist.  “Let’s go, darling,” he purred, leading Steve into the crowd.

“Oh!”  Janet set her wine glass on the table and waved at them to come back.  “Steve – sweetheart.  Lend me that copy of your friend’s will, please?  I have someone coming by in a few hours – Matt Murdock.  He’s a lawyer.  I’ll ask him to look it over for you – you know, so you don’t walk into something unexpectedly.”

Steve pulled away from Tony’s embrace and fished the will out of his pocket.  He handed it to Janet, slinging his duffle over his shoulder again.  “Thank you.  I would really appreciate it,”

“Steve,” Janet said, motioning for him to lean closer.  “You don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.  Paying for company doesn’t mean you have to have sex you know.”  She smiled knowingly and squeezed Steve’s shoulder.  “You’re a good man.  Don’t do something you’ll regret.  I’m sure your friend wouldn’t force you into something.  He seems like the kind of person who wanted to take care of you, not the kind that would want to make you do something you would hate yourself for.”

Steve bowed his head and smiled back.  “You’re right,” he said.  “Thanks.  I’ll keep that in mind.”  He nodded to Luke, who was busy stacking glasses again and walked back over to Tony, who was still waiting patiently a few feet away. 

Tony slipped his arm back around Steve’s waist again.  “So, you bought the Gold Room,” he said, guiding Steve towards the stairs.  His hand was warm on Steve’s back.  He had been touched by men like this in the past, but it had never been by someone who had had an interest in him.  Tony’s smile was the sweetest poison; Steve could see it out of the corner of his eye, and even though Tony wasn’t as tall as he was, the man seemed to be ten feet tall.  The men in the crowd watched as they passed by, their drinks clutched loosely in their hands as though they were about to drop them.  Steve could feel the women watching him, their eyes filled with amusement and envy.  He tried to keep from blushing, wishing he could turn himself to stone so no one could tell how he felt.  Everyone was here for the same reason – they would be heading up the stairs eventually, and yet it still felt like he was being judged.

Tony paused at the steps, giving Steve’s back a rub.  “Come on,” he said, nodding to the stairs.

Steve followed after him, struggling to keep breathing through his panic.

The Gold Room was beautiful, far more grandiose that Steve had expected.  Everything here was painted with a fine layer of gold; even the wooden trim ringing the room looked like it had been carved out of gold.  By the look of things, this room wasn’t used often, and it was very neatly cared for.  The furniture was in immaculate condition, and even the curtains were freshly pressed and wrinkle free.  He felt uncomfortable stepping on the white carpet, so he took off his shoes in the hallway and set them beside the door before he could track muck inside.  A look down at his socks made him want to burst into flames.  If he had known this was where he was going to end up tonight, he would have bought himself a new pair.  He looked like a grub!  His mother would have smacked him upside the head if she had seen him looking like this.

Tony smirked and took off his polished leather shoes, setting them down neatly beside Steve’s.  “You know you’re allowed to make a mess in here, right?  That’s what the maid service is for,”

Steve smiled weakly.  “I’d rather not make any extra work for them,”

Tony chuckled.  “I’m sure they’ve seen worse.”  He sauntered over to the bed and sat down on top of the blankets, toeing off his maroon socks in a way that shouldn’t have been attractive.  “So, what would you like to do tonight?  Do you have anything in mind?”

“I’ve never really done this before,” Steve confessed, setting his duffle down on the floor beside his shoes.  He shrugged off his leather jacket, folding it up, and set it down on top of the bag.  He prayed that it wasn’t going to stain the carpet and wiped his hands off on his shirt.

Tony raised an eyebrow.  “You’ve never done this, or never done anything at all?”

“I’ve been kind of busy,” Steve said, wishing he didn’t sound so pathetic.  He scratched the back of his head, looking around at the room, trying to find something to stare at that wasn’t Tony and the massive bed.

“Too busy for everything?  Or just too busy to fool around?”  Tony asked, unbuttoning his waistcoat.  He tossed it aside, letting it sail across the room and went to work on the tiny buttons on his shirt.

“A little of both,” Steve said with a sigh.  “Besides, most of the people I met were in the trenches trying to kill each other.  That doesn’t make for very great dinner conversation,”

“True,” Tony laughed.  “So what is it that you do, my Lord?  Anything interesting?”

“I’m a soldier not a Lord,” Steve said, shuffling closer.  He reached out to grab for the back of the nearest chair and shied away when he remembered that the thing was covered in gold paint.  He pulled his hand back, resting it against his trousers, trying not to look as uneasy as he felt.  “I was a Captain.”

“Was?”  Tony said, shucking his shirt.  “You’re not now?”

“I was pulled from the Front and sent home with an honorable discharge,” Steve said, tersely.  He tried to smile when Tony frowned at him, but it came out bittersweet.  “Sorry – it’s something I just found out.  I didn’t think it was going to be permanent.  Well – I assumed it wasn’t going to be.”

“I see,” Tony said.  He patted the bed beside him, fingers resting neatly on his thighs.  “Well, shall we?”

Steve stiffened.  “I don’t uh – I don’t know.”

“Don’t know what to do?”  Tony asked.  He cocked his head to the side, his luscious-looking bangs sliding against his olive-toned skin.  “It’s ok.  You can just sit still.  I can do all the work if you want,”

Steve’s mouth went dry.

“Or we can just talk,” Tony continued, scooting up onto the bed. He wiggled his toes, flashing Steve a smile that was far warmer than it had been before.  “You’ve got me for the entire night.  We have plenty of time on our hands.”

Steve fiddled with the hem of his shirt.  If he was going to be here the entire night, he might as well sit down.  It wasn’t like he was going to be able to stand here forever.  He crept closer, avoiding Tony’s abandoned shirt, and sat down on the edge of the bed after thoroughly inspecting the bottom of his trousers to make sure there wasn’t anything on them.

Tony chuckled and leaned back against the headboard.  “You’re a strange one,”

“I am?”  Steve asked, pulling off his socks.  He folded them up neatly and set them down on the floor so he wouldn’t lose them.

“Well, for one, you’re busy folding up your socks,” Tony said.  “Most of the Lords I know don’t bother with that kind of thing.”

“Again, I’m not a Lord,” Steve chuckled.  “I told you, I’m just a soldier.”

“Captain, then,” Tony said, patting the bed again.  “Come and sit.  You’ve got the broadest shoulders I’ve ever seen and I’d like to get a better look at them,”

Steve smiled sheepishly and pulled his legs up onto the bed.  He inched closer to Tony, but didn’t bridge the gap between them.  “I’m not really a Captain anymore either now that I think about it,” he said with a sigh.

“How about I just call you your name then? Steve was it?” Tony said, lifting his foot up.  He set it daintily in Steve’s lap.  “Well, if you’re going to stay over there, you can give me a foot rub.”

Steve cocked an eyebrow.

Tony wiggled his toes.  “What?  You wanted to take it slow.  This is slow, right?”

Steve smiled.  “Yeah, this is slow alright,” he said.  He ran his fingers over the top of Tony’s foot and was rewarded with a twitch of surprise.  “What?”  he said, trying not to laugh.  He slid his thumb over Tony’s toes one by one, eliciting even more twitches.

“I wasn’t expecting your hands to be so rough,” Tony said with a grimace.

“Ah,” Steve said.  Tony’s skin was soft beneath his hands, smooth in a way Steve had thought was just an elaborate story told by the rich to the poor.  He looked his hands over, wondering what had brought about the twitch and immediately realized the problem.  His hands were calloused, hardened by weeks of battle and hand-to-hand combat.  “Sorry,” he said.  Damn it!  Why was he so horrible at this?

“It’s fine,” Tony said, wiggling his toes again.  “Only one person has ever rubbed my feet before in a place like this.  It’s a nice change.”

Steve lifted Tony’s foot up and rubbed his thumb against Tony’s heel.

Tony groaned; the sound startled Steve so badly, he nearly dropped Tony’s foot.

Tony leaned back against the headboard and closed his eyes.  “You can do that all night if you want,” he said.  “I’ve been up since dawn, working.”

“Sure,” Steve said, rubbing a little harder.  This was familiar territory; he had done this for his mother a thousand times after she had returned from work, and even Bucky had been happy to get a foot rub every once in a while.  Tony melted under his ministrations, sinking deeper into the comforter and pillows; after an hour or so, he started snoring loudly.  The way his chest was rising and falling with each slow breath made it clear that he wasn’t going to be getting up any time soon unless Steve shook him awake.  Steve smiled and set Tony’s foot down.  He was more than a little tired himself.  A nap couldn’t hurt, could it?  He rolled onto his side and lay down on the other side of the bed, letting his eyes shut; the sound of Tony snoring beside him was comforting.  In the dark, he could pretend that he was back at home, with Bucky at his side, sleeping in their small, cramped room.

Steve awoke to Tony nuzzling the back of his neck; the other man was still asleep, and didn’t seem to realize that he was doing it.  During the night Tony must have rolled over and snuggled up to him, although Steve couldn’t tell who had started the snuggling to begin with.  Steve opened his eyes slowly, enjoying Tony’s body pressed up against his back.  He hadn’t ever slept in the same bed as someone in a long time – not since Bucky had been home, and he hadn’t realized just how comforting it was.  There hadn’t been any nightmares to haunt his dreams this time.  He felt better than he had in ages.

Someone rapped smartly on the door.

Tony jerked awake, his eyes wide and wild.  He looked over at Steve and then at the door, going sheet white.

“What is it?”  Steve asked with a yawn.

“Oh god – I fell asleep,” Tony said, his voice nearly a whisper.

“Well, yeah,” Steve said, sitting up.  He scrubbed a hand over his face and stretched.  “I guess that means they want the room back, huh?”

“You’re not angry?”  Tony asked, sitting up.  He frowned at Steve, picking at the blankets they hadn’t even bothered to move the night before.  “You paid a lot of money to have me for the night, Captain – you know that, right?”

Steve smiled softly.  “That’s ok.  I think this is the best sleep I’ve had in a long time.  It was worth it.”

Tony didn’t look like he agreed.  He scowled and watched Steve get up, not moving from the bed even when Steve started towards the door with his socks in hand.  “You should ask for a refund,” he said after a minute of solemn contemplation.

“Why?”  Steve asked, picking up his shoes.  “I don’t think there was anything that happened last night that I didn’t want.”

“Captain,” Tony said, pinching the bridge of his nose.  “You paid for sex and you didn’t get any,”

“Technically,” Steve said, hoisting up his duffle bag, “I didn’t actually specify that sex needed to happen.”

Tony sprang up from the bed, gathering his clothing up from the floor.  He struggled into his socks, bouncing on one foot at a time and swept up his shirt and waistcoat.  “Wait – don’t just rush out!”

“But they knocked,” Steve said, stepping into his shoes.  “I’m pretty sure that means they want us out of here,”

“It does,” Tony muttered, pulling on his shirt.  He buttoned it as he walked over to his shoes, his clever fingers moving quickly over the laces.  “But that doesn’t mean you need to rush – unless you want to get rid of me or something.”

Steve frowned.  “Why would I want to get rid of you?”

“You could have asked for someone else if I wasn’t what you fancy,” Tony said, pulling on his waistcoat.  He buttoned it up and settled his hands on his hips, practically glowering at Steve as though Steve had done something horribly offensive to him.

“I didn’t say that,” Steve said.

“Then why didn’t you wake me up?”  Tony demanded.

“Well, I fell asleep too you know,” Steve grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“That’s no excuse!”  Tony snapped.

“It is too,” Steve said, pulling open the door.

Tony shut the door.  “We’re not done here.”

“Yes we are,” Steve said, grinding his teeth.  He was sorely tempted to move Tony out of the way, but he didn’t want to risk hurting the man by accident; he was irritated, but that didn’t mean he had to be rude.  “Look, I’m sorry if I’ve offended you because I didn’t want to have sex, but it’s not exactly like I’m in a rush, you know.”

“Then why are you here?”  Tony growled.

“I’m here because I had to be,” Steve said, reaching for the doorknob again.

This time Tony didn’t stop him; he looked hurt when Steve walked out the door and stood transfixed in the doorway as Steve stalked down the hall.

Steve was just starting down the stairs when Tony caught up to him.  He sighed as Tony grabbed his arm, and slowed to a halt, not wanting to send either of them tumbling down the stairs.  Superhuman strength could be a pain; he always had to worry about hurting someone by accident even if he was only walking down the stairs.  “Yes?” he said.

“You should come back again tonight,” Tony said, standing on the step above Steve’s so he could look him in the eye.  “I’ll do better this time.”

Steve started.  “What?  What do you mean?”

“I mean, I can do better,” Tony said, tugging on Steve’s sleeve.  “I’ve been doing this since I was fifteen – I can do better.  Just let me work it out with Lady Van Dyne and I’ll fix things,”

“You’ve been – since you were fifteen?”  Steve’s heart felt like it was going to drop out of his chest.  Tony had started that young?  The man he was looking at now had to have been almost as old as he was – if not older – and that would have meant that he had been here for most of his life.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” Tony grumbled, his cheeks colouring.  “Everyone here’s been around for years, and I only became a courtesan at eighteen.  Before that I helped out in the kitchen and cleaned up after people.”  He tugged at Steve’s sleeve again.  “Look, just leave it up to me, alright?  I’ll talk to Lady Van Dyne and I’ll fix it.”

“Tony,” Steve said, taking Tony’s hand in his, “There’s nothing to work out.  I enjoyed last night.  I don’t need you to make it up to me.  It was a lovely night.”

“But we didn’t do anything,” Tony said with a huff.  He followed Steve down the stairs, glancing at the dining room where Janet sat lounging in a puffy red leather chair, her hand resting over her eyes.  Bucky’s will was resting on her crossed legs.

Steve led them through the dining room, keenly aware that they were the only people around aside from the maids and butlers; everyone else was still asleep, or had paid for another day, he mused.  Most of the people he had seen the night before hadn’t seemed like the kind of people that got up at the crack of dawn unless they absolutely had to be up.   

Janet looked up as they got closer, letting her slender hand drop into her lap.  She picked up the will, moving it from hand to hand.  “So,” she said.  “How was your night?”

“Awful,” Tony said.

“Wonderful,” Steve said, rolling his eyes at Tony.  “Don’t listen to him.”

Janet laughed.  “I see you two are getting along.”

“He’s lovely,” Steve said, setting his duffle down on the floor.  “I like him.” 

“Good,” Janet said, her smile brightening.  “So I talked with Murdock last night, and he had a look at the will.”

“I see,” Steve said solemnly.  “Was there anything strange in it?  Anything I should be worried about?”

“Well, first off, you owe me five coppers,” she said, holding out her hand.

Steve bent down and rummaged around in his duffle, pulling out his change purse.  He handed her the coppers, even though he had no idea why he owed them to her and watched as she pulled a piece of paper out from under her, setting it on top of the will.  He wondered why she had been hiding it from sight. 

“What’s that?”  he asked.

“It’s a bill of sales,” she said. 

“For what?”  Steve asked, confused.  He hadn’t known you could get a receipt for purchasing a courtesan for the night.

“It’s for the night you spent with Tony, and for his debt,” Janet said, handing Steve the papers.  He accepted them, feeling dizzy, unsure of what to do. 

Tony owed a debt – and he owned it?  Is that what she had said?  But that couldn’t be right.

“What do you mean?”  Steve asked, looking from the papers to Tony, who seemed just as confused as he was.  He had heard about people buying out the contracts on courtesans, but he had never thought that something like that was actually real.  He had always thought it was an old wives tale, told to naughty children who were close to being sold for bad behavior.

“Murdock looked the will over for me and he says that there’s fine print at the bottom that the Grand Executor conveniently forgot to mention.  It states that you must buy yourself a companion.  By companion, your friend meant something permanent – not just one night,” Janet said.  She tapped the paper.  “Tony’s the cheapest person I have on hand.”

“Cheapest?”  Tony grunted, his rage palpable.  “I’m the cheapest?  I thought we had a deal, Jan.”

“We did,” Janet said, resting her chin on her hand.  “But let’s face it, Anthony.  You’re getting old.”

Tony took a step back like he had been slapped.  “I have a few more good years in me still,” he said, his eyes widening.  His face was as pale as milk again, only this time there was real fear in his eyes.  “You swore you wouldn’t sell me.  You swore!”

“You’ve got wrinkles,” Janet said, gesturing lazily to Tony’s face.  “While I appreciate them, they’re not the best advertisement.  I don’t want to be known as the woman who peddles old courtesans, Anthony, ones who deserve better.  Besides, you didn’t want to be here forever – you had plans the last I checked.”

“I refuse to be sold like some kind of sheep,” Tony hissed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I’m not selling you – I’m selling your debt.  When your father came to me all those years ago to pay off his debt, I was glad to take you as collateral,” Janet drawled, drumming her fingers on her chin, “I made it clear to you then that you would only remain in my care until you were no longer useful.  You are, as of this moment, no longer useful.”

“But Jan,” Tony pleaded, his hands dropping to hand loosely at his sides.

“Believe me, Tony, when I say I love you dearly and that this is not a punishment.  I’m not throwing you out because I hate you.  Steve’s a nice enough fellow.  I had Danny look him up while you two were upstairs and you’ll be fine.  He’s got a house of his own – it’s even got an Alchemic Forge in it.  You’ll get over it.”

“But,” Tony sputtered.

“Stane and Hammer are dropping by today,” Janet said quietly, her gaze locked on Tony’s.  “They offered to take on your debt too, for far more money.”

Tony’s terror morphed slowly into disgust.  His fists clenched. 

“If you go with Steve now, you will never have to let either one of those men lay a finger on you again,” Janet said.  “It’s what you’ve wanted for a long time now, isn’t it?”

Tony scowled.  “You know it is.”

“So go get packed, darling,” Janet said.  “You can take whatever you want – if it belongs to you.”

“Thank you Lady Van Dyne,” Tony said stiffly.  He turned and left without another word, stomping his way across the dining room towards the kitchen. 

Janet turned to Steve, letting out a weary sigh.  “I’ve had Ororo pick out a few of the best collars from the store and Luke is going to bring them out in a moment.  You’ll have to pick which one you want,”

“Why does he need a collar?”  Steve asked with a frown.  He had never seen anyone wearing one before, but he had heard rumors about them.

“People need to know that he’s in your debt,” Janet said.  “You don’t know anything about how this works, do you?”

“No,” Steve said.  “I didn’t know you could buy people’s debt, let alone that they need to be advertising that with a collar around their necks like someone’s pet cat.”

“It happens all the time,” Janet said.  “In Tony’s case, his father signed him over for a debt, thus putting him under permanent contract until the bill is paid.  Unfortunately for Tony, Howard Stark drank his money away, and never came up with the gold to buy him back before he died in a tragic automobile accident.  The man was an utter bastard, and the world is better off without him.”  Janet scowled and shook her head.  “I would have liked to keep Tony out of this business altogether, but there wasn’t much choice after what happened to Howard’s estate.  His poor wife was left with his debt, and she wasted away without him even though she worked damn hard to fix things.  His debtors took her for everything.  She died too poor to do anything to help her only son.  Obadiah Stane was Howard’s business partner.  He came to her after the funeral, demanding the debt Howard owed be paid by her heir, and well, let’s just say that if the primary debt hadn’t been owed to me, he would have made things very nasty for everyone.”

“I don’t understand,” Steve said with a sigh.  “His father shouldn’t have been able to do that to him.  It’s not fair.”

“Think of it this way.  Tony’s debt is from his mother, who inherited it from her husband.  The main debt is paid off to me.   I took on the full loan and hand the payments off to everyone else during the week,” Janet said, motioning for Luke to come over to them.  He held a black leather case out to Janet, keeping it steady as she snapped it open and revealed its contents with a grim smile.

“How much does he still owe?”  Steve asked, eyeing the collars.  They were beautiful, made with the most advanced kind Alchemy the city had to offer; he knew how much that kind of thing cost, and it wasn’t cheap.  The metals were fusions never found in the real world on their own, created by men and women who had studied for years to get their skills honed to perfection.  There were only a few born every year with the skill to join the guild of Alchemists, and those who did could command exorbitant prices for their work.  A collar like this could command four, five hundred gold Sorrels at the very least.

“Oh, it’s not that much.  He only owes me eight thousand gold now,” Janet said.

Steve felt like he was going to faint.  Eighty thousand gold Sorrels?  How the hell had any man managed to rack up that much debt?  And good god – how much had the debt started as?

Janet smiled, lifting up one of the collars to inspect it.  It was made of red and gold metal bands, each masterfully woven together to look like they were roses still on the vine.  The latch at the front looked like a golden bud, waiting to bloom.  Steve stood mesmerized, unsure of what to do.

“I see you like it?”  Janet said with a knowing smile.  “I like this one too.  Tony’s quite partial to gold and red, as you know.”

“Yes,” Steve said with a sigh.  “I noticed.”

“Then this one will be perfect for him,” Janet said, holding the collar out.

“It looks sharp,” Steve said, eyeing the thorns on the vines.  “I don’t want something that could hurt him.”

“It won’t hurt him at all,” Janet laughed, thrusting the collar into Steve’s hands.  He took it before it could drop and was surprised by how warm and supple it was; it felt as if it was made out of something living.

“I don’t know if I can afford this,” Steve said, running his fingers over the smooth metal bud.  “I’m not working yet – and I don’t even know if I’ll be able to find a new job.”

“It won’t cost you much,” Janet said quickly, noting Steve’s dismayed expression.  “I’ll still hold the primary debt – all you will need to do is pay me a small fee every month.  I don’t want Tony to suffer – believe me.”

“How much will it be per month?”  Steve asked.  He was fairly sure he could manage a small debt, but with the inherited mansion to take care of, and no job prospects, he wasn’t sure how long it could last.  Yes, he had enough for a few years if he scrimped and saved, but he had a feeling the mansion would be eating up quite a lot of his pocket money in the very near future.

“It’ll cost you five pennies a month,” Janet said.  “I’m more than happy to keep the payments low.”

Steve nearly dropped the collar in shock.

“And I’m not going to charge you any interest either,” she said with a soft smile.  “I told you – I want to keep Tony safe.”

“That’s very generous of you, Lady Van Dyne,” Steve said, feeling a little faint.  He held the collar gingerly in his hand despite the fact that it seemed like it could handle any damage thrown at it and prayed that he wouldn’t sway where he stood.

“Your first payment will be at the end of the month.  All subsequent payments will be on the thirtieth of every month,” Janet said, patting Steve’s hand.  “And don’t worry – the collar is included in the debt, so it won’t cost you anything extra.”  She laughed and patted the chair beside her.  “Oh dear,” she said, “sit down before you topple over.”

Steve sank down into the chair gratefully, the collar still clutched in his hand.  “I don’t know what to say.”

“Darling?” Janet sighed as Tony came stomping down the stairs.  He vanished a few seconds later, going back up for the rest of his things.  She watched until he was gone again before she started speaking again.  “You’re not going to be thanking me when this is over.  I have a feeling he’s going to be very angry at you for a very a long time.  You should get used to silence, because he hates new places and he hates new people even more.”

“Is there anything else I should know?”  Steve asked dryly.

“He’s smart – don’t think he’s stupid just because he was a courtesan,” Janet said, drumming a dainty finger on her chin.  “He’s been studying Alchemy for years, but don’t mistake that for actual schooling.”

“Oh?”  Steve wondered what else Tony had learned in his life.  It seemed like he had been around a great many influential people.

“I’ve been buying him tools and books over the years, but we didn’t have the space for a real forge,” Janet admitted, sounding sad.  “I wanted to get him one, but well,” she sighed.  “You need someone with actual skill to put one in, and most of the men and women who know how to build and install one don’t want to give anything to a courtesan without or without the extensive permits they require and even my friends couldn’t wrangle something like that in this neighborhood.”

Steve scowled.  “That’s cruel of them.  A student is a student no matter where they come from.”

Janet nodded.  “I wholeheartedly agree.  I’ve been trying to get them to change their mind for years, but it doesn’t seem to matter how much money I throw at them – they refuse to drop by.  Being a Captain’s companion might change things for him.”

“Is that why you picked me?”  Steve asked, quirking an eyebrow.  He was beginning to think that his chance encounter with Janet in the street hadn’t been chance at all; there was no way someone could track him down so quickly, even if they were professionals.  He hadn’t left much in the way of a trail here, and unless they had some inside source in the army spilling the beans to them, there wasn’t any way they would know what kind of person he was.  He wondered briefly if she was playing him for a fool and then reconsidered the opinion when Janet sighed and looked at him, her gaze turning mournful.

“Steve,” she said, shaking her head.  “Take care of him, alright?  I didn’t want to have to send him away like this, but to tell you the truth, there isn’t much time left.  Do you remember the men I mentioned earlier?”

“Hammer and Stane?”

“Yes,” Janet said with a sigh.  “Their full names are Obadiah Stane and Justin Hammer.  They’re businessmen – wealthy men, who build weapons for the Queen’s army.  Howard Stark used to do the same, but after a while, he couldn’t compete.  There was too much happening, too many different types of weapons out on the field, and the Queen didn’t appreciate having to train her soldiers to use so many different things.  It was expensive, and after a while, quantity won over quality.  Stark Industries lost its contract to the Queen’s army, and Howard was forced to take on other projects to cover his costs.”

Steve had heard all about Stark Industries when he was growing up; they had produced most of the machinery in the city, until one day they had gone bankrupt.  His mother had loved their products.  They had never broken – at least not until the end of Stark’s dynasty.  After that everyone had been stuck buying their goods from Stane or Hammer, and while he had never heard much about those two, he knew from their workmanship that they didn’t care much for quality.

“Stane and Hammer are the reason Tony’s father fell from grace.  The three of them were friends once, or so Howard told me, but after Howard’s contracts started getting bigger, Stane and Hammer grew angrier with him.  I tried to help out, of course,” Janet said.  She glared down at her hands.  “He refused to take my offer unless I accepted collateral in the form of his son.  I don’t know what brought it on.  He was a strange man, and I never really got to know him outside of social functions.  He knew my parents, of course.  The Starks and the Van Dynes have run in the same circles for years.”  She smiled wistfully.  “Neither of them would approve of the business I run, of course, but at the time my money was good enough and Howard took it without a second thought.  I suppose he thought he was going to come climbing up the social ladder unscathed.  He was smart – brilliant, even – but he didn’t have the creativity.  He tried to create a flying automobile once – can you imagine?”

Steve chuckled.  He had seen the plans for the Stark Car in the newspaper when he was younger; he had kept a picture of it taped up on his wall as a boy.

“It would have been an amazing breakthrough if he had managed it,” Janet said.  “But the more in debt he got, the more he drank and well, you know how it goes.  One morning they found in his car having wrapped it around a post.”

Steve winced.

“Tony was fifteen at the time.  I don’t think he really understood what Howard’s death meant,” Janet said.  “I tried to keep him from hearing the rumors, but there was nothing I could do to keep him from picking up a paper.  He tried to get in contact with his mother.  Poor thing wanted to help her shoulder the burden, but by the time he managed to get her new address, she had already died.  He became a courtesan because he wanted to pay the debt off faster.”

Steve stared solemnly down at his feet.

“So you understand, then,” Janet said, straightening up, “that when I say I will have you killed and buried in a shallow grave, I mean business.  If you hurt my sweet Tony I will end you, Captain Rogers.”

Steve nodded.

“I’ve been looking for someone to take care of him, and you seem like the right man for the job, but Steve,” Janet said, smiling grimly.  “I’m glad Bucky had such kind friends.”

“I’ll do my best to keep Tony safe,” Steve said.

“Good,” Janet said.  She patted Steve’s knee again.  “Then you should know that he’s a handful.  He’ll drive you up the wall if you let him.”

“Noted,” Steve said with a smile.

“And before I forget,” Janet said, reaching into her pocket.  She pulled out an envelope; it was old and creased, the paper faded around the edges.  “His mother gave me this to give to him when he was ready.”  She toyed with the envelope.  “I’ve never been able to bring myself to give it to him.  There are things in here that he will need to see one day – but I warn you, they are not for the faint of heart.  Maria Stark was not the kind of lady who minced her words.  I don’t know what she wanted to say to Tony, and I don’t think he’ll ever tell me what the letter says, but don’t take it lightly.  Let him wait – let him grow used to you before you give it to him,”

It seemed like a strange request considering the letter had to have been at least twenty years old by now, but he agreed to it and took the letter from her before Tony could return from his packing.  He folded it up and put it in his inner pocket for safekeeping.  Once he got a lockbox of his own, he would keep it there to make sure no one wandered off with it.  “Is there anything else I should know?”  he asked, as Tony reappeared at the top of the stairs, grimly dragging his bags behind him.

“Stane and Hammer aren’t the kind of people you should play around with,” Janet said, glancing around.  “Between you and me, they’ve killed their fair share of business rivals although I can’t prove it - yet.  They’ll hurt Tony if they get their hands on him – with the collar on him, they’ll be too afraid to touch him, but be careful, alright?  I don’t want to read about you in the paper.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve said.  He smiled at Tony, but he knew even before Tony got close enough to touch that there wasn’t going to be a smile for him in return.

Tony stood stoically beside Steve’s chair, his bags stacked behind him in a neat pile.  He crossed his arms over his chest.  “Did you want to look everything over, Lady Van Dyne?”  He growled.

Janet sighed wearily.  “I trust you.”

“Sure,” Tony snorted.

“Steve’s picked out a lovely collar for you,” Janet said, gesturing to the collar in Steve’s hand.

“And I’m supposed to wear it?”  Tony said.  “Do you want to put it on me while I’m on my knees?  Or can I put it on myself?”

Steve stiffened.  He didn’t like the fact that he was going to have to put a collar on Tony either, but there wasn’t much he could do to avoid doing it.  If what Janet had said was true, Tony was going to need to keep the damn thing on at all times so no one could go after him.  He stood up and held the collar out to Tony, who glared at it like it was made out of sewage.

“Just put it on him,” Janet grumbled.  “It’s for his own good.”

Steve sighed. 

“Oh go ahead,” Tony said with a sneer, burying his hands in his pockets.  “It’s not like I’m not used to humiliation.  I’ve had clients who did worse.”

Steve’s stomach churned uneasily.  He lifted the collar up and delicately opened the lock at the front, pulling the sides wide open.  He slipped it around Tony’s throat, mindful of the edges and pulled it in place, sealing it shut.  Once the lock had clicked shut, the bud flowered on the collar, swallowing the lock up.  It was as if it had never even existed.

“It won’t come off until his debt is cleared,” Janet said, nodding to the collar.  “Don’t even try digging at it, Anthony.”

“I’m not that foolish,” Tony grumbled, rubbing at his throat.  He slid his fingers underneath the metal, inspecting the collar without look at it.  “It’s Alchemy – not some pathetic iron band.  I know it’s not going to just fall off on its own.”

“On its own,” Janet said, rolling her eyes.  “Good gods, I’m glad I’m not going to have to listen to that anymore.”

Tony swallowed thickly and looked away, turning to face his bags.

“You two had better get going,” Janet said, standing up.  “The Grand Executor’s office opens in fifteen minutes.  If you leave now, you’ll beat the line.”  She reached out and took Steve’s hand in her own, giving it a firm squeeze, handing him a coin, the one mentioned in Bucky’s will.  “If you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to come find me.  I’ll help you out.”  She turned to Tony and pulled him backwards into a tight hug.  “Sweetheart, I know you hate me right now,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “But this is for the best.”

Tony didn’t speak.  He kept his gaze firmly on his luggage.