Pas De Deux

Part 13

Sitting in the quietest corner of the gentlemen's club where he had taken Bucky, the Earl was sullenly whirling the last of Bourbon left in his glass.

The red-haired waitress stood behind the bar without a word, wiping the wooden surface with a cloth. Recognising a customer who had been overly generous with her the first time he visited, she offered her company again when he arrived and heavily sat down in the armchair. He peered at her quietly, searching for an ounce of likeness with Natasha he had once perceived but found none at all. He shook his head resignedly, looking over at the small flames struggling to survive over the dying logs, and asked to be served a drink and left on his own.

Time stretched into hours, and the Club was nearing closing time, but no sensible owner would frontally request one of their most generous customers, and an eminent Earl at that, to leave.

Some time later, a new visitor with a different purpose than drinking his sorrows away entered. James made his way to the bar and quietly thanked the owner for his note, delivered most discreetly, with a few coins. Then he made his way to his friend, who was staring blankly with a crestfallen posture, and sat on the armchair across from him. He pursed his lips and waited quietly.

Steve's gaze remained fixed on his glass and it seemed a hundred of thoughts were passing through his eyes.

"There is no spirit strong enough," he finally uttered, "that can assuage my torment and fill the void in my heart."

In this moment, he found it was as pointless as pouring water into a bottomless well, and all he felt was the daunting depth of it.

James remained quiet and leaned forwards as a quiet offer of his attention and support. Steve's expression shifted slightly into one of disquietude and self-anger as he seemed to reminisce.

"I let her go, Bucky. I simply said goodbye and wished her all the happiness in the world and then I let go of her knowing, deep down, I had just condemned myself to a life of misery."

"Perhaps it is not too late to persuade her to stay here with you."

Steve shook his head vehemently. "I can't deprive her of the very thing that brings her happiness so I can greedily get mine. I cannot be selfish with her."

Bucky nodded understandingly. "You never fail to do what is right, no matter how high the price. That's why you're the better one of us," he added with a smile. "Let's take you home, now."

Bucky got up, took the glass out of his friend's hand and put it on the table nearby. Steve stood up heavily, crouched under the weight of responsibilities rather than a high consumption of spirits.

They made their way outside of the club and reached the cabriolet that would take them back to Whitmore Residence, but just before they got on it, Steve faced him.

"I'm sorry about this evening. I am sure that minding your drunken, lovelorn friend was not part of you plans when you travelled from America."

Bucky guffawed. "I have been anxiously waiting for such a development the moment you mentioned the social season!"

It forced a snort out of Steve. "Thank you for never failing to jest with me even when I am at my lowest."

"I would make a terrible friend if I didn't," James said with a smirk.

Steve grinned, somewhat grateful, and turned towards the cabriolet, but Bucky suddenly put his hand on his forearm and looked at him with a more serious expression.

"Steve," he said intently, "just remember that going after your happiness wouldn't make you selfish. It is what makes you human."

They looked at each other without uttering another word, then the Earl nodded and climbed into the cabriolet.