This Is Stella's Reality

August 16, 2015

The apartment was filled with the comforting scent of fresh sourdough and garlic. I pulled a loaf from the over just as Steve threw tomatoes into a cast iron. Bucky was grating cheeses of every kind and humming along to the radio.

I winced every time his fingers came close to the sharp edges of the grate. "Darling, please be careful. Why not use your other hand?" I asked.

He frowned and looked down at his hands in confusion. "Uh," he laughed, embarrassed, "I don't know. I'm right handed, so I just don't think about it."

"Well, try to think about it, please" Steve said, "before you lose a finger."

Bucky laughed and passed the block of white cheddar to his metal hand and passed it over the grate again. He fell back into his rhythm and hummed with the jazz music floating through speakers. His head bobbed side to side, and he smiled when our eyes met.

I sliced into the loaf, humming along when I recognized parts of the melody. Steve joined us too as he slid the cast iron filled with tomatoes and herbs into the oven.

He swayed and waltzed over to me, slipping the knife from my hand and taking me into his arms. I giggled, following his lead and dancing around the kitchen island. Bucky sang lounder for us as he continued grating piles of cheese.

We spun around, exciting Aurora and Ves who wagged their tails and followed us around. They pranced excitedly, and I tripped over Ves' large paws.

Steve's arms wrapped around me protectively, laughing at the ridiculousness of our lives. He dipped me lower and pressed a firm kiss to my lips before bringing me back up as the song faded to its end.

"You would've loved dancing in the '40s," Steve remarked.

"More like all the boys would've loved looking at her," Bucky corrected. He turned around and smiled. "We should go dancing one night. I'm sure there's somewhere here that would be nice and quiet."

"I'm just worried someone will recognize us," I breathed. "I'm tired of the attention."

Steve nodded and wrapped his arms around my waist, swaying me in time with the next song. "It's tough," he mumbled.

Bucky was washing his hands and pondering. Running through every scenario he could. The possibility of us never being recognized was slim to none, but he wanted to try. Humor himself with wild fantasies.

There was a knock at the door, so I glanced at the clock. Our dinner guests were right on time. I looked between my boys. They were smiling, and their thoughts hummed with anticipation. Friends, dinner, a party. A little bit of normalcy.

I skipped over to the door and used my magic to bring us to the compound. The door opened, and I was greeted by an uproar of excitement and bright faces.

Lady Stella! You look lovely!

Hey, babe, how are you?

Oh, lookin' good, lookin' good, metal man! Paris looks good on you!

Long time, no see, Captain. You look good for your age. Something in the water?

I already want to leave.

Oh, hello, puppies! You remember me, right? Stella, please tell me they remember me.

Thor, hon, the wolves won't stop licking my hand; what does that mean?

"They're harmless," I reassured Bruce as I drew him in for a hug. He was taller than I remembered, and his eyes seemed more alive. Less down-turned and depressed.