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

[disassembles]

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.

Comments

[widows_kiss]

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?"

[disassembles]

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.

[widows_kiss]

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?"

[disassembles]

"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.

[widows_kiss]

"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."

[disassembles]

"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?"

[widows_kiss]

"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."

[disassembles]

"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.

[widows_kiss]

"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."

[disassembles]

"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?"

[widows_kiss]

"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.

[disassembles]

"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.

[widows_kiss]

"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."