Chapter Text
May 13, 1926
As the Class of 1926 graduation ceremony for the girls was coming to a close in the gymnasium of the Marvel Academy, faculty began escorting the boys from their dorms one last time, crossing the large quad of the campus and directing them to enter through the back of the center just as they had rehearsed on three occasions in the past week alone. Towards the end of the crowd, walked a group of friends that were the most popular, and most mischievous, of their graduating class. Dressed in their high-priced wool suits, hair perfectly slicked back, and oxfords, they carried with themselves the unbreakable illusion of upper class sophistication, and thus stood out from the rest of their peers who were just as equally wealthy.
"At last, boys!" Bucky Barnes grinned ecstatically, clamping his palms down on the shoulders of two young men on either side of him, Sam Wilson and his adoptive brother Steve Rogers. "We're finally done with high school! Four long, torturous years of hell is finally over."
"Four years has been already? Herregud (my goodness)," Thor Odinson bellowed with his heavy Swedish accent.
"And your English still hasn't improved," Clint Barton joked under his breath, causing Sam to snicker, "No it hasn't."
Thor stopped in his step for a moment, one hand on his hip while bringing up the other to point at Clint with one raised dark blonde eyebrow. "I vould like to see you learn Swedish, liten man (small man)."
Clint had an expression of feigned hurt. "I told you not to call me liten man. I'm not liten."
"It's been four years, Clint, and you're still at the same height!" said Bucky.
"That doesn’t seem to bother my gal, I seem to recall. Who I've been with more longer than any of you idiots," Clint added with a sly grin.
"Oh, come on. She's just with you because of your parents," Sam jested. He could've had a point if it was a random girl – but Laura Cardellini wasn't just any random girl. She was Clint's Laura, who honestly cared less about who his parents were. To the rest of the world, they were film producer Harold Barton and silent film actress Edith Barton, but to Laura, they were simply Mr. and Mrs. B.
Clint scoffed, while Thor whispered to Sam, "Vith that house he live in, I vouldn't care about height either."
"I heard that," Clint deadpanned with a roll of his eyes.
"Hurry along, boys, you don't want to be late to your own graduation!" came the squeaky hollering from their American government professor, Mr. Stratton, a tall but lanky man, from way up in front of the group. The rest of the boys laughed and continued their way to the gym.
As they neared the building, the loudspeaker was nearing the end of the alphabet, and when the final female graduate’s name was called, the Head teacher of the Marvel Academy, Nicholas J. Fury, proclaimed the class that was immediately followed with thunderous applause that vibrated throughout the place.
"Golly, I didn't think so many parents would come," Steve commented at hearing the deafening noise of the audience's ovation.
"And that's just for the girls. Imagine when our pretty faces walk off that stage," Clint said, his sarcasm earning him a roll of the eyes from Steve.
"Line up in alphabetical order, gentlemen, like we practiced," clapped Mr. Kellogg, professor of English literature whose round belly doubled as a table for his book whenever he read while his students would be testing.
Bucky waved at his friends as he and Clint budged their way to the beginning of the line that was burgeoning in the small hallway.
"I hate bein' one of the last," Steve muttered under his breath.
"Tell me about it," Sam looked at him side-eyed, not liking it at all that he had to stand near the end of the line and be one of the last people called. He hated waiting.
The party of 32 eighteen-year-olds were quickly growing impatient, not only because most of them wanted to finish the ceremony and head home for the first time in four months, but the heat surrounding them being all mushed up in their suits was so uncomfortable. They stood there for another fifteen minutes, and then there was a collective sound of relief when Mr. Kellogg appeared through the door connected to the stage, followed by the playing of the song "Pomp and Circumstance."
"Quietly now, gentlemen," he whispered as he ushered the boys one by one.
They emerged from the back of the stage that was placed up against the left wall of the gym, and the crowd of parents, now joined by the graduating girls, cheered and hollered that accentuated greatly by the acoustics of the gym. It didn’t take long for Bucky to find his adoptive parents. Not surprising, the mustachioed Howard Stark and his beautiful blonde wife, Marian, were sitting front-row. Marian clutched a handkerchief, her eyes welling up at the sight of Bucky. He shot her his cheeky million-dollar smile, as she called it ever since he was little, and she clamped onto Howard for support. Standing next to him was Thor's physically imposing father, Odin Borson, revered filmmaker from Sweden and under contract at Stark Pictures. Down a few seats in the row, Bucky caught Peggy Carter and Carol Danvers, who winked at him. When Peggy and Steve's eyes met, she did the same gesture.
The ceremony lasted for almost an hour, recorded with speeches delivered by class valedictorian Peter Parker and closing remarks by Head Teacher Fury. Once every student went up the stage and received their diploma, Fury instructed all graduates, including the females in the audience, to rise.
"I present to you, family and friends, Marvel Academy's graduating class of 1926!" boomed Fury through the microphone, and the rest of the people gathered in the gym stood from their chairs and flung their raucous cheers to the youths.
Being in the last row that was a few feet away from the assembly, Steve wasn’t far from his adoptive parents, and sheepishly waved at them. His mother blew him a kiss and dabbed a tear from her cheek with the handkerchief Steve had given her more than a year ago. He then looked for Peggy, finding her already set on him. Steve's smile faltered a bit when he remembered that they were no longer together. They had mutually decided to end their four-year relationship only a couple days beforehand, not due to loss of love, but they, mostly Peggy, didn’t think having a lost-distance relationship would be beneficial. Steve was going to attend art school in Oakland, and with Peggy set for Somerville College, a constituent of the University of Oxford, it was too much of a risk to take.
It certainly wasn't helpful that Peggy was a picture of ethereal loveliness, with her brown curls cushioned under her flowery hat and her bright red lips timidly smiling back at him. Feeling the heat on his cheeks, Steve turned away to hide his embarrassment. They were no longer together, but boy, did she still have an effect on him.
After the ceremony, the students were taken outside to the wonderful earthy scenery that was the main entrance of the Marvel Academy, situated on 390 plentiful acres of green land in Santa Barbara County surrounded by the steep Santa Inez Mountains to the east and the Pacific Ocean to the west. It was a magnificent visual landscape for adolescents to spend their high school studies away from home, and no one could complain about the relaxing Mediterranean climate. Posing with Fury alongside the blooming garden, the class of 1926 were photographed with a Cine-Kodak camera that the school had recently bought for events such as this. As soon as the picture was taken, the students, clutching their diplomas, happily dispersed to search for their families.
"Whew! I thought this would never end," Carol drawled, her dainty fingers smoothing out her peach summer silk dress.
"In a hurry to get home, Carol?" Peggy asked with a smirk and arched brow.
"Ab-so-lute-ly." Carol answered with a naughty smirk of her own.
"I, on the other hand, aren't really lookin' forward goin' home. Not with the party my parents are throwin' me, even after I told them not to," Clint grumbled.
Bucky and Steve were familiar with Clint's irritated sentiment all too well, as they too had had to deal with the constant urging of their parents to throw a party in celebration of their high school graduation. By the grace of God, they caved in at the last minute and promised that nothing flashy would be done, except for a to-die-for dinner prepared by their longtime cook, Mrs. Palazzo.
Like Clint, Bucky and Steve weren't comfortable being in the spotlight. They were aware that the center of attention would be on them regardless because who their parents were, but if they could somewhat control of that scrutiny, to avoid having their names on the newspapers for every little thing they did, then that is what they would try to do. They weren't Tony, heir to Stark Industries; not in terms of personality, social standing, popularity, or even their surname. Though Steve was biologically Tony's cousin – his mother was Sarah Rogers, Marian's little sister who died during childbirth – he wasn't legally a Stark, and he didn't entirely feel like one. Ditto for Bucky, adopted at age 3 by the Starks from an orphanage in Brooklyn. Howard decided that Bucky would keep his birth name, claiming that he wanted to respect the name given to him by his birth parents, but now that Bucky was a few months over 18, he had the legal choice to remove Barnes and officially become a Stark. Whether he would actually do it, Bucky was unsure, since doing so would bring unwished media attention. It was the same dilemma Steve was going to face when he turned 18 in the summer, and though they had all the time in the world to decide the fate of their surname, neither Bucky nor Steve desired the "children of celebrity" tag that afflicted Tony, Clint, and Thor.
"Well, Laura will be there, won't you, Laura?" Bucky asked.
"Yes, of course. I wouldn't miss it," Laura responded, slipping her arm onto Clint’s as she leaned up slightly to straighten his hat and peck him on the cheek.
"Thor's father is havin' a party too, though I suspect he's only doin' it to have a reason for gettin' bent," informed Val Fury, Thor’s girlfriend of almost two years and daughter of the Academy's Head of teacher Fury. Her full name was Barbara Valkyrie, but she preferred the simplified version of Val.
"And he vonders vhere all the crashers come from," Thor remarked gruffly, thinking back on his father's regular outbursts the morning after every party and finding people who clearly had no invitations passed out in their grand living room. "Takes yust one shot of that brown plaid and any person can enter our house."
"That is true, Thor, but with all that kale your father makes, you should take advantage of it and get bent with him. Our youth only lasts for so long," Sam said with a tinge of advisability, for he was not blessed with the vast opulence that encircled his best friends.
Despite Sam's parents being employed by Stark Pictures – his father Paul as a cinematographer and his mother Darlene worked as a costume designer – they weren't earning nearly as their counterparts, and that was because of the dark color of their skin. Howard was strictly against segregating his business companies, but even he couldn't control over the salaries handed to their employees. It took strenuous efforts to not only put Sam through the Marvel Academy, but his cousin James Rhodes, who moved in with the Wilsons after his father died in the war and graduated from Marvel in 1923. There wasn't a day that Paul and Darlene wouldn't work overtime, and never did they complain about it, only reminding Sam and Rhodey that they should count their lucky stars that they have this special upbringing instead of the one his parents suffered in Harlem.
"Steve! Bucky!"
The group turned to see, among the sea of well-tailored old men and elegantly dressed mothers, Mr. and Mrs. Stark waving joyously at their sons to join them. With an affirmative nod and tip of the hat to their friends, Bucky and Steve started to retreat.
"I'll see ya fellas and dames back home," Bucky foretold as he bid them goodbye.
"I cannot believe both of you have graduated! My three sons are now grown up and going to university. How time has flown by!" Mrs. Marian Stark wept tears of happiness, her heart filled with love at the thought of her little boys becoming men right in front of her. She embraced Bucky and Steve, kissing both their cheeks and lightly smudging out the deposit of her red lipstick with her thumb.
Howard gingerly pulls his wife back, rubbing a soothing hand over her shoulder. "Forgive your mother, boys, age seems to tend to make her more emotional." Ignoring the little scoff Marian gives him, Howard grins broadly at Bucky and Steve. "But I don’t blame her. Congratulations, Steven and James, you cannot believe how immensely proud I am at both of you."
The brothers each shook their father's hand, saying at the same time, "Thank you, father."
Not expecting him to further express his felicitations – Howard was a man of few words when it came to family – Bucky gestured for his parents to walk on, and they did so. Despite their position in the public, Howard and Marian Stark weren’t necessarily close to any of the parents at the Academy. Or, rather, close to parents who didn't have ties to Stark Industries or Stark Pictures. They were friendly with Nicholas J. Fury for obvious reasons, but aside from him, Howard didn't really care to mingle with other members of the faculty. And now that his sons were all in university, there was no need for it anyways.
Diligently waiting by the primary entrance of the Academy was Howard's large and sleek automobile, his treasured black 1924 Cadillac Type V-63. The first of its kind, with a balanced two-plane crankshaft that made driving more balanced and front-wheel brakes, the seven-passenger limousine carelessly radiated the luxury that the Starks could afford to live in. Though the Cadillac was primarily used for family outings, it was still addressed as Howard's car, and he drove it to and from work at the studio every day with a comforting smile, often imagining the reactions of his German father who sold fruit and his darling mother who sewed shirtwaists that their only son was a millionaire and driving around in the most luxurious car ever made.
Standing upright next to the car, holding the passenger door open, was a young man neither Bucky nor Steve recognized. His dark brown hair was mostly hidden under the plain black driving hat, but his features were apparent, with a strong nose and a soft pointed jawline. Easy with his blue eyes, he was quite the looker.
"Bucky, Steve, this is Pietro Maximoff, our new chauffeur," Marian introduced them. "He is Mrs. Maximoff's son, who we hired this past August. We didn’t bring him with us to Miami during Christmas because it was much too early to hand him the responsibility, but he’s been improving since."
"Mr. Barnes, Mr. Rogers," Pietro acknowledged them with a heavy accent that the brothers were accustomed to hearing from Mrs. Maximoff.
"Pardon for asking, but how old are you, Pietro?"
"I will turn 19 later this year, Mr. Rogers."
"You're 18?" gasped Steve in astonishment. They were practically the same age! "Father, that's very… odd of you. To hire a youth, I mean."
"I did it as a favor to Mrs. Maximoff," Howard explained though Steve didn’t need it. His father's hospitality to poor strangers was a bit infamous in the city; everyone, from his business partners to the newspaper gossipers, were aware of his tendency to employ just about any person who desperately needed a job. It's the method he used to get the sons' valets and some of the maids. He'd offer them a few months’ pay, and if they were doing a good job and wanted to stay a servant for the Starks, they were more than welcome to. Howard's peers thought it was outlandish, and maybe unbecoming, of someone of his stature to be so generous to people who didn't have work service background, but Howard didn't think much of it. Though he was a ruthless businessman, Howard wasn't entirely heartless and if he could lend a hand to the less considerate, then he would do so. "And his knowledge of the streets of Los Angeles and the surrounding areas is something we surely don't mind," he added.
"Then I think we will get along just fine. Nice meeting you, Pietro, and please, if you could show me the way to go home," Bucky said with his signature smile, eager to make the hour-and-a-half drive back to return to the comforts of his king-sized bed and forget about school studies for the next three months.