Chapter 3 — Reluctant Partners
Nellie
The training room in Avengers Tower pulsed with artificial light and the faint whir of automated equipment. Nellie stood in the center of the space, arms crossed, her emerald-green eyes fixed on the man across from her. The sleek surfaces and high-tech walls, with their embedded holographic displays, gave the room an otherworldly precision—a futuristic combat arena designed for efficiency, not comfort. And comfort, it seemed, was not on today’s agenda.
Bucky Barnes loomed silently on the opposite side of the room, his tuxedo jacket absent, leaving him in a black button-up shirt that managed to make him look both formal and unnervingly dangerous. The faint glint of his vibranium arm under the overhead lights was a stark reminder of the weight he carried—both physically and metaphorically. Nellie resisted the urge to fidget, instead channeling her irritation into a sharp glare.
“Nellie,” Tony’s voice crackled through the intercom from the glass-walled observation deck above. No doubt he was perched with a cappuccino in hand, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle below. “Remember, you’re not just working with Bucky. You’re selling a story. You’re the power couple Hydra can’t resist. No glaring, no scowling, and definitely no stabbing each other.”
Nellie tilted her head up, shooting a withering glare at the observation deck. “I’m sorry, did you say something, Tony? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of my dignity dying.”
Tony’s laugh was predictably smug. “Now, now, Nellie. Charm is half the battle. Pretend this is Broadway and you’re auditioning for the role of your life.”
“I don’t do Broadway,” Nellie muttered under her breath, rolling her eyes.
Bucky, who had been standing with his arms folded, added in his usual low, gravelly tone, “Let’s get on with it. The faster we get this over with, the better.”
Nellie turned to face him fully, her sarcasm rising to mask her irritation. “Wow, such enthusiasm. You really know how to make a girl feel special.”
Bucky’s expression didn’t change, but the faintest flicker of annoyance darkened his piercing blue eyes. “This isn’t about feeling special,” he said, his voice even. “It’s about staying alive.”
“Oh, how romantic,” Nellie quipped, her tone syrupy with mockery. “You sure know how to sweep a girl off her feet.”
From above, Tony interjected. “Okay, lovebirds, less sniping, more rehearsing. Let’s start with your cover story. Nellie, what’s your name?”
Nellie huffed, brushing a strand of auburn hair out of her face. “Isabelle Laurent,” she recited with exaggerated flair. “French heiress, lover of art galleries, poetry, and expensive champagne.”
Tony clapped, the sound echoing across the observation room. “Marvelous. Now, Bucky, your turn.”
Bucky’s jaw tightened noticeably before he spoke. “James Laurent. Isabelle’s husband.”
Nellie arched an eyebrow, her sharp green eyes cutting toward him. “Husband? Just like that? No backstory? No whirlwind romance? Real convincing. Hydra will be swooning from all the passion.”
“We’re not there to be romantic,” Bucky replied flatly. “We’re there to do a job.”
“But the job requires romance,” Nellie shot back, stepping closer. She tilted her chin upward defiantly, her gaze locking onto his. “Hydra’s not going to be fooled by cold indifference, Sweetheart. You’re supposed to look at me like I hung the moon—or, at the very least, like you don’t want to strangle me.”
Bucky’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I’m sure you’ll handle the charm part just fine.”
“Oh, I will,” Nellie snapped, her grin sharp. “But you, James, are going to need to muster something resembling affection. Try smiling. I promise it won’t kill you.”
Tony’s delighted laughter echoed above. “I gotta say, the sparks are flying. If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you two were already married.”
Bucky’s gaze snapped up to the observation deck, his tone clipped when he spoke. “Can we focus?”
“Focus,” Tony repeated, still grinning audibly. “Sure, sure. Alright, here’s the drill. Nellie, you’ll use the pendant to access the archives. Bucky, keep her safe, keep your cool, and—most importantly—don’t lose the cufflinks.”
He snapped his fingers, and a holographic image of the Vibranium-Pearl Cufflinks shimmered into view. “A marvel of form and function. Elegant enough to pass at the ball, yet loaded with a signal disruptor to jam Hydra’s toys. Trust me, you’ll need them.”
Nellie raised an eyebrow, glancing at the image. “You do love your toys, don’t you?”
“Only the best for my team,” Tony shot back smoothly. “And since Hydra’s masquerade ball is all about elegance and theatrics, we’re going to start with... drumroll, please—dancing.”
“Dancing?” Nellie repeated, incredulous. “You’re kidding me.”
“Nope. Natasha insists the Laurents would absolutely waltz. And you two? You need to sell it.”
Nellie groaned, turning back to Bucky, who looked about as thrilled as she felt. His posture stiffened, the faintest hesitation visible before his hands flexed at his sides.
“Don’t tell me you can’t dance,” Nellie teased, tilting her head. “Surely they taught you some charming moves back in the 1940s.”
Bucky’s eyes flicked toward her, his expression guarded. “I can dance.”
“Good,” she said, stepping closer and extending her hand. “Show me.”
For a moment, he didn’t move. Then, with a resigned sigh, he took her hand. His grip was firm but careful, his vibranium arm held slightly away from her as his other hand settled hesitantly on her waist. The closeness sent a jolt of awareness through Nellie, her usual confidence faltering for the briefest of moments.
“Alright, Cinderella,” Bucky muttered, his tone dry. “Don’t step on my feet.”
Nellie barked a laugh, surprising herself with how genuine it sounded. “Likewise, Prince Charming.”
They began to move, though their rhythm was tentative and awkward at first. Bucky’s steps were stiff, his usual precision faltering under the awkwardness of the situation. Nellie tried to match him, but her movements weren’t much better.
“Loosen up, Barnes,” she muttered, her teasing tone softening. “You’re making me nervous.”
His jaw tightened, but he adjusted his stance, his focus sharpening. Nellie caught the flicker of concentration in his blue eyes, the faint furrow of his brow as he worked to find the rhythm. It was... unexpected. Almost vulnerable.
“You’re not terrible,” she offered after a moment, the words slipping out before she could stop them.
Bucky glanced at her briefly, the faintest flicker of surprise in his expression. “Thanks, I guess.”
As they moved, the silence shifted. Their steps grew smoother, more in sync, and Nellie couldn’t deny the faint sense of satisfaction at their progress. She was still acutely aware of Bucky’s proximity—the slight pressure of his hand at her waist, the subtle tension in his frame—but it no longer felt entirely uncomfortable.
“Not bad,” Tony’s voice broke through the quiet, startling her. “Still stiff, but there’s potential. Maybe try looking at each other like you don’t hate each other’s guts.”
Nellie rolled her eyes but didn’t respond. Instead, she focused on the rhythm—the subtle push and pull of their movements, the way their steps gradually aligned. It wasn’t comfortable, not yet, but it wasn’t unpleasant either.
Bucky’s voice was quiet when he spoke again. “We don’t have to like this. We just have to make it work.”
Nellie glanced up at him, smirking. “Oh, don’t worry. I’m not expecting a love story here, James.”
“Good,” he replied, his lips twitching in something almost like a smile. “Because you’re not getting one.”
Tony’s applause interrupted whatever retort Nellie had ready. “Bravo! That’s the kind of chemistry I’m talking about. Keep this up, and Hydra might actually buy it.”
Nellie stepped back quickly, easing out of his hold. “I think we’re done here,” she said, brushing her hands against her pants as if shaking off the moment.
“Not quite,” Tony called out. “Tomorrow, you start learning how to sell the story off the dance floor. Longing looks, subtle touches—I want—”
“Goodnight, Tony,” Nellie interrupted, already heading for the exit.
Behind her, Bucky fell into step, his silence a sharp contrast to Tony’s chatter. The hallway outside was cool and quiet, a welcome reprieve from the buzzing energy of the training room. Nellie glanced sideways at him, her smirk softening into something almost like a smile.
“This is going to be a disaster,” she murmured, mostly to herself.
Bucky didn’t look at her, but his voice was steady when he replied. “Maybe. But at least we’ll survive it.”
For the first time, Nellie found herself hoping he was right.
