entrancelogs | [ Closed ] you were a kindness when i was a stranger

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[ Closed ] you were a kindness when i was a stranger

Who: Natasha Romanoff & Bucky Barnes
Where: 7th floor, Room 29
When: Sometime after this.
Rating: PG..?
Summary: Bucky finally goes to talk to Natasha, about futures near and far.
The Story:

He crosses the hall to her door late that night and calls her name after he knocks, like she's somehow not going to know it's him. He's had this conversation once already, for real with Sam, and then about a hundred times in his head since Natasha agreed to let him come over. He doesn't feel any more prepared than he did the first time Steve told him about the future, but at least they can clear the air, maybe. He wonders how many more conversations like this there are going to be. This is actually the easy stuff. Sam and Natasha are trained professionals, and he didn't... It didn't go as far as it could have.

Steve keeps telling him it's not his fault, he shouldn't think about it, shouldn't beat himself up for things that haven't even happened yet. And he gets that. It isn't him, or it isn't going to be. But it's still his body and his hands, and he needs to own up to that while he still can.

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She's been waiting for him, half wondering if he'd show or not. It was a toss-up in her opinion, because Bucky was much harder for her to predict than perhaps his counterpart would have been. And she wouldn't blame him for not wanting to know more, or to focus any longer on what was in store than what was absolutely necessary.

So she's curled up on her sofa with a book and a glass of wine, the opened bottle still mostly full on the coffee table with an empty glass, just in case he does show. It's a little on the late side, time-wise, so she's already gotten comfortable for the night, dressed in a simple pair of black leggings and a too-big tshirt probably stolen from Clint's closet, because she had a tendency to do that. Her hair is drawn back into a short ponytail at the back of her head to keep it off her face while she's stretched out and reading. It's a far different look from the one she typically adopts for business, but she thought casual and comfortable might make tonight a little easier.

When the knocks sounds, she uncurls from where she's been settled and pads barefoot across the room to open the door, greeting him with a faint smile as she motions with her hand in invitation.

"Hey."

The first time he'd seen her, her hair was tied up, and she'd been wearing one of those overly large t-shirts that might belong to someone else. It seems like the sort of thing she prefers when she's on her own, soft and loose and comfortable. He feels a little bit like he's intruding, even with her invitation.

He's got on a pair of dark jeans and a button-up shirt that's loose at the collar and rolled up to his elbows, but otherwise tucked and cut to fit. He toes off his shoes when he steps inside, glancing around the apartment as he does.

Her place is laid out in a way that's eerily similar to his own, with thought to exits and defensible positions. Granted, she has much better taste. He mirrors the hint of a smile. "Still out of sugar?"

Edited 2014-08-13 12:58 (UTC)

Her smile deepens at his question and the memory it raises and she motions for him to home join her on the sofa, where she'd been curled up before his arrival.

"Maybe. I suppose it depends what I can charm out of the closet and how indulgent it's feeling. I do have a decent Pinot Noir though. Want some?"

She keeps the conversation light and easy, wanting to put him more at ease before they delve into deeper and darker topics.

"Well, if we've got to settle."

He follows her to the couch and settles down, taking a glass of wine from her. He appreciates a little something to take the edge off, alcohol and banter included. He sinks back against the couch cushions and glances at her sidelong. "Go figure. I ask you to talk and I don't even know where to start."

"We can not settle, if you'd rather," she counters with a crooked grin as she drops down beside him with a light bounce and reaches for her own wine glass. "Although you don't look like you're in the mood to do anything too energetic right now."

She eyes him over the rim of her wine glass, assessing and coy, before taking a slow sip as she meets his gaze.

"Normally I would say the beginning, but this time that doesn't quite apply, does it?"

That surprises a laugh out of him. He knows Natasha doesn't mean anything by it really, but he can't help the quick flicker of imagination that tells him exactly what she was implying. "Not exactly what I had in mind, no."

He takes a swallow of wine, a bittersweet burn settling in the center of his chest. "I guess we'll have to start somewhere in the middle. Steve told me a few things, but I didn't exactly pry into the other details at the time..." And it's not something either of them like to talk about. "I was kinda hoping you could fill me in. All he told me was what happens to me, that I work for HYDRA. That HYDRA grew inside SHIELD."

That was the real kicker, in the end. That everything they'd worked for had become everything they were fighting against. But what had happened to the SSR wasn't just about them. There were still people who were in it for the right reasons, who'd been just as blindsided. He glances up at Natasha. "If you don't want to talk about it too much, I get it. I just want to know what happened."

She hesitates a moment before taking a slightly larger swallow of her wine, then reaching for the bottle to refill her glass.

"I can tell you what I know. It's not everything, but it's as much as I could put together from the mess we left of SHIELD HQ. If you have questions about something in particular, feel free to ask them, bt I'll try to give you the general picture."

She waits until she gets agreement from him before launching into her equivalent of a debrief. Natasha's specialty is information - she has other skill sets but this is primary. Learning information, putting puzzle pieces together to form a larger picture, knowing what is relevant and what is not and being able to make it into a cohesive whole. She does this now with what she knows and with what she can say - even now, there are some things she holds back, secrets only she knows, but those are hers to carry and no one else's. Nothing in her manner gives away anything other than the fact that she's being utterly truthful, and if checked, her facts would still match up. She's very good at what she does.

She sets down the basic timeline of what he wants to know - the aftermath of the war and the fall of Hydra. The formation of SHIELD and the hidden seed of Hydra lost within its depths. She explains in brief what she knows of him - all of it rumors mostly, because there had been plenty of those about the ghost assassin who only emerged for the highest profile targets. She explains about modern day SHIELD, about how the events that shaped the Avengers might have been inadvertent consequences to the actions and maneuvering of Hydra. About the aftermath of New York and the events that went down in DC.

She does it matter-of-factly, laying out all the facts for him in a way that he can pick up the pieces he needs to, the ones relevant to him. She answers questions when he has them, and when she is done, she's on her third glass of wine and leaning back in the corner of the couch, letting him come to terms with the information in his own time, patient to be silent and wait till he's ready.

It's easier to listen to the full story with Natasha. He doesn't think there's any way she's disconnected from the situation, but she's not close to it in quite the same way as Steve, and her explanation is sharp and concise. She lays out events, and pauses to let him ask questions, press for details. He gets most of them, he thinks, but he has no way to know. This is a favor, so he returns it with trust. She's lied to him plenty already, but he would be hard pressed to say that he wouldn't lie out of loyalty to Steve, or out of a desire to protect those he cares about from harm.

He thinks of Peggy, of what Steve had quietly confessed to him, and wonders if it isn't better that she'll never know what became of all her work. It's too dark of a thought to be comforting. None of this is a silver lining, but it's what he needs to confront.

She talks about the Winter Soldier with less certainty. Even for someone as careful and meticulous as Natasha, he seems to be more myth than person. She can list some of his likely targets, a couple of names Bucky even remembers from the history books he's been working through. A general, drowned in his pool. A diplomat, found hanging from his balcony. He drinks deeply.

There isn't much to say when she's through. His head is pounding, and he really doubts that it's the wine, but he leans forward anyway, arms against his knees, and lets the whole story settle into place. The future itself, even knowing he wouldn't be a part of it, had always been an exciting prospect, at least. Now there's this. He's silent for a while before he speaks again.

"You kept all of this from me, the whole time..." There's no accusation in his tone, despite the words. He's had plenty of time to be angry already, and that's the least of it. He looks up at her. "If I asked you to keep it from the rest of them, would you?"

When he finally speaks, she leans forward, her arms resting lightly atop her knees in an almost mirror-pose of him. Her expression is still carefully composed but her gaze is gentle as it rests on his face, giving him whatever time he needs.

She pauses after his question, giving it the consideration it warranted, and when she answers, it's honest, the weight in her words hinting that she takes this just as seriously as he does.

"That depends," she answers, choosing her words carefully as she holds his gaze. "As things stand now? Yes. I would. I have been since we got here, because at the time, Steve and I thought it best for everyone - including you. I have no problem continuing that because where people have been drawn from, it's not something that affects them. It hasn't happened to them yet, and from what we've witnessed, no one returns home with memories of this place intact. Spilling this secret doesn't do anyone any good, especially since you're not the Winter Soldier. You're Bucky. You're a long way away from the person we encountered in DC - an entire lifetime, in fact."

"So yes, this is a secret I can keep. If something happens that changes that situation, though? I also won't risk the safety of my team if there's information they need to know to keep themselves safe. I would do the same for you."

And this place does love to mess with them in the most unexpected ways. She hopes it will never come to that.

Bucky releases a slow breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He doesn't expect that last bit to hit him as hard as it does. He sets the wine glass down, rubs his thumb absently over the palm of his left hand. It's not an unthinking promise, and he prefers it that way, because he can believe that she'll keep it.

"Thank you. I don't want anyone to get hurt because we're keeping this from them. If I disappear before I do it, yeah, you've gotta help Steve break the news, but until then... I just want a little more time."

She gives him an understanding look, one corner of her lips curving faintly as she remains where she is a moment before reaching over to lay a hand on his arm. The one that is still flesh and blood and bone for him, even if it won't remain that way. her gaze flicks up to catch and hold his.

"You have my word on that. And it seems time is one thing Wonderland's indulgent enough to give us plenty of. Hopefully it won't come to that. In the meantime, take all the time you need. And if you need to talk about it - or anything at all - consider my door open. I know I'm not Steve, but I imagine sometimes that might make it easier, as well."

He puts his hand over hers almost instantly. He appreciates the contact, and the meaning behind it.

"Believe it or not, it really does. Thank you." He means it. This isn't something Natasha needs to involve herself in directly, especially not after what he -- what was done to her. She doesn't need to go out of her way to offer him kindness or help like this, but it seems like that's just the kind of person she is.

"You know it's the same for me, right? If you ever need anything..."

He's possibly giving her more credit than she deserves, because whether he knows or not, her involvement in this is inevitable, even if she keeps the reasons to herself. It's not just Steve's secrets she's kept all this time, but she just gives him a crooked smile, not letting any of that show as she gives his fingers a squeeze.

"I know. Thanks. So, is there anything else I can answer for you, or shall I proceed to distract you with something a little more lighthearted for a while?"

He inclines his head. "What do you have in mind?"

He's expecting a movie, or something along those lines, but there's a lot of wine warming him through, and he can't help the way his thoughts stray a little. He drops his gaze a moment before looking at her again, curious.

The way his gaze drops has her lips quirking up faintly, as if she can maybe read his thoughts, but she doesn't comment on it, merely reaches out and ruffles his hair with her fingertips. "Well. There's any number of things. A movie's the obvious choice, I suppose, but I hate being predictable unless there's something you're really craving. We could go raid the kitchens, make a mess. Or wander outside, see if we can find some mischief to get into." Which wouldn't be too hard, after dark. Still, she can't help but tease him, giving him a playfully innocent look. "Skinnydipping?"

"Little chilly for that this time of year, isn't it?" Despite the words, the smirk that touches his lips says he's more than game. He doesn't expect things to go anywhere serious, but that's exactly the point -- after everything that's happened lately, something a little reckless and fun sounds like a great idea.

"Russian, remember?" she points out with a quirk of an eyebrow and a twitch of lips in an effort to suppress the smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "This is still summer weather. But I'd understand if you're too fragile for such extreme measures."

"Don't think I've ever been accused of being fragile." He pushes himself to his feet, a little unsteadily, but he's still game. He'll probably have sobered up by the time they get down to the beach. "Just try to thaw me out a little earlier than seventy years from now, huh?"

"Poor baby," she teases him lightly, reaching out to steady him, then twining her arm with his and giving him a tug towards the door. This was probably a terrible idea. She was excited for it anyway. She figured they could both use a little spontaneous fun. "I'll do my best. Are you sure about this? I could always shove you drunkenly back through Steve's doorway again. I'm sure he'd appreciate the thoughtfulness."

"You two keep saying that happened, but I don't remember a thing..." Bucky lets her pull him on, lets the alcohol do its work. He reaches for her door to let them out. After the night they've had, he thinks they're allowed to do something a little irresponsible.

"And that is so not my fault. You really should have stopped before we hit the bottle of Jäger," she chides fondly, laughing as they stumble out into the hall and head for the stairs. She's half expecting Coulson or Steve to step out and given them disapproving looks, but she doubts even that would slow them. She could definitely use something irresponsible right now.

"If you wake up with the flu after this, it is also so not my fault."

"Who wanted the bottle of Jäger again? Just remind me." No one appears to stop them, which is probably an ill omen of some kind, but Bucky doesn't care. Between them, they do a great job not falling down even a single flight of stairs.

"Will you make me chicken soup and nurse me back to health?"

"If I make you chicken soup, you may just die quicker," she counters with a snicker, giving him an arch look. Which wasn't true, she wasn't completely incompetent in the kitchen, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to still give him a hard time. They reached the first floor and evened back out in the foyer once more, the house having fallen quiet with the late hour.

"Well, I've got five here, so it would make one hell of a story..." He's mostly kidding. He only pauses to glance around and make sure the coast is clear. He's clearly buzzed, so it's more habit than any real precaution before he's tugging her along toward the beach.

"Yes, and I'd rather not be responsible for the first of them," she retorts, playfully punching him in the upper arm. She lets him lead the way, content to be tugged along and making sure he doesn't fall on his face, because while she's lightly buzzed, it's not quite as far as him. Enough that she can enjoy something fun and spontaneous, however.

"Can you imagine all the disappointed looks that would get me? No, thank you."

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[ Closed ] you were a kindness when i was a stranger

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