Soldier Boy’s POV

Smiling for the camera, Soldier Boy feels his cheeks hurting, the bright flash of light invading his vision for a split moment, before it’s gone again, and he sees spots of it left behind for a moment or two. As soon as the cameraman moves away, the smile on his face drops, and he looks around the quiet conference room, noticing Ashley approaching him. 

“Are you ready? Everyone is so excited to see you!” she busies, reaching up to tug on his suit. 

He moves out of her way swiftly, reaching for his flask and unscrewing the cap. “Not yet,” he tells her adamantly, before taking a swig of bourbon. 

“Everyone’s been waiting for over an hour,” she starts to stress, biting her bottom lip. 

“Let them fuckin’ wait,” he grunts, frustrated by her persistence, “I’m worth it, aren’t I? I’ve been gone forty fuckin’ years, another hour won’t kill ‘em,” he smirks, replacing his flask and flashing her his signature cocky grin. 

“Of course,” she swallows, nodding and forcing a smile. 

Soldier Boy rolls his eyes, turning his back on her as he heads back over to the table he’d been sitting at before the cameraman interrupted him, and he resumes his seat, picking up the metal straw and lining up the end with the line of white powder. 

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? There’s a lot of press out there, fans…” Ashley worries some more. He looks up from the table, setting her a long hard stare, and Ashley relents, clearing her throat. “I’m going to make sure catering haven’t fucked up the entrees,” she excuses, finally leaving him alone. 

Soldier Boy sighs, returning to what he’d been doing, placing the other end of the straw up one nostril, blocking the other as he inhales deeply. He brushes the underside of his nose, sitting back and waiting for it to kick in as the door opens. He glances towards it to see yet another face he doesn’t want around him enter the room, her red lips curled into a smirk. 

“Nice to see you haven’t changed,” she comments, sauntering towards him. 

“You have. You’re fuckin’ old,” he comments, setting her a hard stare. Like before, his intimidation seems to do very little to her, and he watches as Crimson Countess approaches. She sits down on the table directly in front of him, her own smug grin on her lips. “What the fuck do you want?” he grunts. 

“Now there’s no need to be like that, Ben,” she coos mockingly, leaning closer, bringing her cleavage closer to his face. “We had something pretty fuckin’ good between us.” 

“Forty years ago, sweetheart,” Soldier Boy reminds her. “Before you started that freak show honoring me, instead of fucking finding me.” 

Crimson purses her lips, leaning back just a little. “I thought you were dead. I fuckin’ mourned you.” 

“Not fuckin’ hard enough. Bet you barely let the fuckin’ ink dry on my death certificate before you were making fuckin’ money off of me,” he accuses, rising to his feet. Her eyes follow him, and she clenches her jaw softly. “Stay out of my fuckin’ way tonight.” 

He storms towards the door. Not that the supe wants to go to a stupid party anyway, but it’s preferable to being alone with that washed up traitorous bitch. Besides, he supposes it might be fun having a whole night celebrating him. He plasters the fake smile on his face as he feels the coke starting to kick in, and heads towards the party. He bursts through the double doors onto the scene with his arms spread out wide. 

“You guys looking for America’s first hero?” he asks cockily, grinning widely at the way everyone stops what they’re doing to turn and look at him, applauding and cheering at his presence. 

Once again flashes start to blind him, but he stands and poses, smiling brightly for every single one, fully aware of the amount of eyes on him. 

“Crimson Countess, one with you too,” one of the photographers calls. He turns his head to see her making her way into the room, looking at him a little hesitantly. 

“C’mere, sweetheart,” he calls, holding his arm out invitingly. “Just like old times.” He hugs her in close as soon as she’s next to him, and together they smile for the camera. 

Once he’s decided they’ve had enough, Soldier Boy shoves Crimson away, heading towards a waiter holding a tray of canapes. He eyes the sushi type snack and tries one, deciding he likes it enough to take the entire tray, and begins to make his rounds around the room, putting on the charm and laughing at the guests whenever they say something they think is funny. 

It’s barely five minutes in that he’s bored and feels a headache brewing. Ashley keeps excitedly introducing him to people in Vought that he doesn’t recognise. Apparently all of the team he worked with are dead or retired now, and he eyes the new team suspiciously, secretly pleased to notice the slight tremor in their voices as they talk to him, clearly eager to impress him and stay in his good books. He’s used to being the best person in the room, and he’s glad that forty years away hasn’t changed that. Being the first supe was always a responsibility he didn’t ask for, but he supposes the benefits have outweighed the disadvantages for the most part. 

“Excuse me, sir?” Soldier Boy looks down, finding a boy around stomach height grinning up with him, his two front teeth missing. “Can you sign my comic book?” 

The supe looks around the room to find who the little brat belongs to – what are kids doing at this kind of event anyway? – But he doesn’t lay eyes on anyone that wants to claim him, not that Soldier Boy blames them. He forces a wider smile regardless and bends slightly. 

“Sure can, sport,” he agrees, taking the book and pen from him. His eyes land on the very bad depiction of him, and frowns slightly. He doesn’t look like that, that man is ugly. He flicks through the pages, seeing the juvenile ‘danger’ that the comic book puts him in, and then can’t help but laugh at how pathetic it all is. “Used to love these as a kid,” he tells the boy, covering his tracks, and then scrawls his name over the cover. 

“Freddie, there you are. I’m so sorry, Sir,” the woman blushes, trying to usher her son away. 

“No worries, Ma’am, always happy to meet a young fan,” he insists, smiling so hard his jaw hurts. “Just keep a better eye on him, hm? This isn’t a place for children.” 

“Of course, sir,” she replies, nodding her head and only blushing harder. “Thanks again.” 

Soldier Boy smirks slightly as he hears her scold her son the whole time they walk away, unable to stop himself from checking out her ass in that tight dress she’s wearing. 

“Soldier Boy?” he sighs heavily when he hears the tone of Ashley’s voice behind him. 

“What?” he barks, turning around frustrated. He clips it short when he sees she has a guest, and puts the smile back on his face, already exhausted by the entire evening. He’d forgotten how hard it was to act for so long. His eyes land on a middle aged woman beside Ashley, and when he looks back at her for an explanation, she speaks up again. 

“This is Nicola Y/L/N, her father served alongside you in the war,” Ashley explains. 

“I don’t know a Y/L/N,” he tells her as politely as possible, already bored with the conversation. 

“That’s my married name, Sir, my maiden name is Keller. Arnold Keller?” she questions. 

“Arnie Keller,” he remembers, the smile on his face wavering for a split second as he remembers the weedy teenager that used to follow him around like a fucking shadow. That kid barely gave the supe a moment with his own thoughts. At first he liked the admiration. Arnie treated him like a God, and who doesn’t want to be reminded of their superiority in that way? But soon it got fucking irritating. “Great guy,” he lies. “I’m sorry I never got to see him again.” 

“He’s still alive,” Nicola beams. “He’s just over there.” 

“Oh, perfect.” 

Soldier Boy internally breaks something – maybe Ashley’s neck – but instead follows on behind Nicola towards an old man in a wheelchair that resembles nothing like the Arnie he knew from war, besides the signature way his nose bulged on the end just a little. 

“Arnie! Surprised to hear you’re still alive, old friend,” Soldier Boy announces, clapping his hand down heavily on the frail man’s shoulder. 

“Dad doesn’t speak much anymore, not after his stroke, but his mind is still all there apparently,” Nicola explains softly, smiling warmly at her father. 

“Now that is a shame. Arnie used to spend night after night telling me all kinds of stories,” Soldier Boy pretends to reminisce fondly, secretly elated that the son of a bitch won’t be opening his mouth anytime soon. That’s the last thing he needs tonight. 

He notices two more people approach, a man around Nicola’s age – the supe assumes her husband – and a younger woman, still in her teens, he guesses. 

“Sir, this is the rest of our family,” Nicola explains. “This is my husband, David and our youngest daughter, Y/N.” 

Soldier Boy locks eyes with Y/N, noticing how her eyes widen a little, sparkling in excitement as she smiles at him. 

“It’s an honor to meet you, Sir,” David speaks up, holding out his hand. 

“Of course,” Soldier Boy smiles, moving his attention swiftly onto their daughter. “Y/N, you look beautiful tonight,” he compliments, holding out his hand. She giggles a little as she takes his hand, and he’s quick to turn the back of it so he can kiss it softly. “Sorry, guess I’m an old fashioned man,” he apologises, flashing her a wink as he stands up straight again. “I forget that you folks don’t do that sorta thing anymore.” 

“Don’t apologise,” David insists. “It’s good to see some old fashioned chivalry again.” 

“Indeed,” the supe agrees, his eyes once more wandering to Y/N and the way she’s looking at him, all wide eyed and hopeful. He glances towards Arnie again, seeing the slight crease in the old man’s forehead as he furrows his eyebrows and Soldier Boy laughs softly to himself leaning in closer to Arnie’s ear. “Don’t worry, old friend, we both know I’m nice to the ladies.” He claps his hand on the old man’s back again, and looks between the family. “If you’d excuse me, I think I’d like a drink.” 

He glances at Y/N one last time and then heads over to the bar, flagging down a waiter and ordering a bourbon. His eyes scan the crowds but inevitably land back on Y/N, noticing her looking over at him across the room. He flashes her a smug grin, taking a sip of his drink. He never did like Arnie. What an annoying parasite he was. It could be quite fun to fuck with him now that he can’t fight back. He finishes his drink and licks his lips, straightening his suit as he picks up on the music they’re playing. The kinds of songs they’d play in music halls when he was younger. 

He takes a deep breath and heads towards the dancefloor, noticing other couples slow dancing together. He stops as he gets close to Y/N and bites his bottom lip for a moment. 

“You don’t mind if I dance with you daughter do you, David?” he asks politely, already holding out his hand for her. She looks at her father excitedly, and Soldier Boy cocks an eyebrow, daring David to disapprove. 

“Of course not, sir,” he agrees, slightly flustered by the question. 

“Thank you, I’ll bring her back safely, I can assure you.” Soldier Boy winks at them, and then takes Y/N’s delicate hand, leading her over to the dance floor. 

He lets the silence grow for a moment between them as they sway, relishing in the nervous glances Ashley keeps sending his way. Eventually she approaches, playing with a strand of her hair. 

“Sir, I think you should mingle,” she tells him far more politely than usual. 

“This is my party, if I want to dance with a pretty girl I will,” he insists, flashing Y/N a wink. 

Ashley forces an awkward chuckle. “I really think that dancing with a teenage girl should be low on your list tonight.” 

“Relax, Ashley,” Soldier Boy insists, pushing Y/N out at arm’s length and encouraging her to spin. “Gotta keep my appeal with the ladies,” he winks, whispering. 

Ashley purses her lips but eventually relents, leaving them alone. 

“She’s a pain in my ass sometimes,” he excuses, chuckling softly. Y/N giggles, biting her bottom lip. “You’ve not said a single word to me. I don’t scare you, do I, little darling?” he asks. 

“No, sir,” she whispers, looking around nervously. 

“Would you prefer it if we were alone?” he asks next, making her eyes widen. “C’mon, I could do with a break, anyway.” 

Soldier Boy doesn’t give her a chance to protest, and doesn’t look for her father’s approval this time as he leads her out of the main room and towards a quieter office that is empty. He lets them both in and closes the door behind them, gesturing to her to take a seat on the couch. She does so quietly, tucking her dress skirt under her ass before taking her place, and Soldier Boy smirks, sitting beside her closer than is polite. 

“You really are very beautiful,” he compliments, reaching up to brush some hair out of her face. 

“Thank you,” she smiles, biting her bottom lip anxiously. 

“You know,” he begins, letting his fingers ghost down her jawline. “You were exactly my type before… before I was lost,” he words carefully. “I know I’m technically older, but I don’t feel it. Still feel as young as you at heart.” Y/N laughs softly, nodding her head in understanding. “Though, I bet you look at me and see an old man, huh?” he asks, dejectedly. 

“I think you’re handsome,” she confesses, nervously. 

Soldier Boy instantly smirks, guiding her face towards his a little more so he can see all of her. “You do?” he checks. She nods in his grasp. “Well that’s made me feel a lot better, darlin’,” he hums. “Feels good to think I could stand a chance with a girl like you.” 

“I’m sure you could get any girl you wanted,” Y/N offers.

“Well, maybe I don’t want just any girl. Maybe there’s only one I want right now,” he suggests, angling her face to tilt her lips closer to his. 

“Really?” she checks. 

“Mhm,” he hums, bringing his face closer. 

“But I’m only seventeen.” 

Soldier Boy stops, dropping his hand instantly, feeling anger flood his veins. Fucking perfect. 

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” he grunts, unable to stop the words flying out of his mouth. She suddenly looks afraid, nervously biting her bottom lip. 

“I’m sorry, are you angry?” she asks. 

“Well, sweetheart,” he sighs, trying to regain his composure and put on his front. “It’s not ideal that I just tried to kiss an underage girl,” he explains exasperatedly. “You probably think I’m a creep now.” 

“I don’t,” Y/N defends. “And I’m eighteen in two months,” she adds. 

Once again Soldier Boy’s interest is piqued as he considers his options. Two months doesn’t seem that long to wait, not if it’s going to fuck with Arnie. 

“Well then, darlin’, why don’t we continue this on your birthday?”