widows_kiss | Appointments Post

[Bucky comes to her apartment late that morning. He's spent a lot of time thinking about what he should say, and even now he doesn't have anything good. The shock of finding out has worn off, and the visceral kind of horror that came later, when he let his thoughts stray too far into what if and when.

But in the end, he's come to realize that whatever happens, Bucky Barnes still dies when he leaves this place. So, in a way, the Winter Soldier changes everything, and nothing at all. He can't let something that hasn't happened yet ruin what he has left. There are plenty of empty places in his life, people he's not getting back. Natasha doesn't need to be one of them yet. He doesn't want her to leave--

To leave with things like this between them.

He knocks on her door, just like last time.] Natasha. You home?

[It's several long moments before she answers the door, having needed a moment to get over her surprise, to compose herself before gathering her courage to open the door. It's been almost three weeks since she's seen him, heard from him. Ever since the day he'd come here to talk, had distracted her from her hurt and confusion over Clint. And then she'd given him the truth and driven him away and there was a part of her that was terrified of answering the door. Of what might follow.

But she still answered it. She looked calm and composed, but there was a hint of wariness in her gaze, uneasiness, as she mustered a faint smile for him and leaned against the edge of the door, drinking in the sight of him.]

Hi.

Hi. [There's a small flutter of in the pit of his stomach that is, admittedly, not just nerves. Natasha has her game face on, and he only realizes after he's done it that his hands are clasped behind his back, and he's standing at parade rest.

He inclines his head, indicating her apartment.]

Can I come in?

{A heartbeat passes and then she steps back, making room for him and indicating the invitation with a wave of her hand.]

Sure. Come on in.

[She closes the door behind him, giving them some privacy, although she's not sure why he's here, or how long he'll be staying, or... She cuts off her own circling thoughts because she doesn't want to start that up again.]

Did you need something?

[Bucky steps inside, remembering the last time he was here all too well.]

I just wanted to talk. It sounds like Stark's machine is coming together soon and I thought... well if it works out, I didn't want you to leave with things the way they are between us.

[She hesitates, because everything feels like a touchy subject at the moment, and she gives herself a moment to come up with an answer by moving to sink down on the arm of her couch, straddling it as she looks up at him.

There was something in the way he phrased that that caught her attention.]

You're not going through?

[Normally he'd flop down beside her on the couch, but he stays on his feet, feeling too antsy to sit down. That's not the question he expects, but he shakes his head once in answer.]

I never was. [He thinks it over carefully before he adds.] I don't think it'll change anything, either way.

[She twines her fingers in her lap, her knuckles whitening a moment with the strain, though she gives no other visible reaction to his words. Her gaze drops to the floor.] I see. I can't really blame you for that.

[Her lips quirk in a weak attempt at a smile, but it fades. She doesn't fidget, but there's something tense and deliberate in her stillness, as if it's a defensive reflex all in itself. A careful guarding of giving anything away.]

I'm sorry, James. Perhaps I... I shouldn't have said anything.

That's not what I meant.

[This has got to be his best skill: trying not to put his foot in it and managing heroically anyway.]

Look, I asked because I wanted to know. I had the right to know. I can't say I appreciate you lying to me - I really don't - but... I get why you did.

[He settles on the arm of the love seat opposite her, despite himself.]

I reacted badly. I'm sorry for just walking away like that. Even afterwords I just... [He scoffs, though it's not directed at her.] I still don't know what to say, to be honest. Where do we go from here?

I don't know. [She answers him honestly, her voice soft and for a moment she stares at her hands, afraid to look up. Then she does, her gaze searching his face carefully.]

Where do you want to go from here?

[He doesn't know either. It's on his face when he lifts his gaze to meet hers.]

Well, from the sounds of it, you've got a past with me, and I've got a future with you. [He smiles slightly, realizing it sounds like a line, and not a good one at that.] I meant what I said before. I don't regret anything that happened between us.

But you know, this Winter Soldier... that's not who I am. As long as I've got a say in it, that's not who I'll ever be.

[She attempts a faint smile - it lingers for a moment before fading again, because she's not taking this lightly, doesn't want him thinking that, even if wry humor is an instinctive fallback. A defensive one.]

I know that, James. Bucky. [She corrects herself, even though the name feels awkward on her tongue. She's never used it before now.] I know that all too well. This... you are a side of him I never got to see. There's similarities there I can pick out because I knew him so well. A familiarity, just as you picked up on it when we fought. But you're not the same and I know that. I don't blame you for not wanting... that.

[She suspected that if James had had a say in any of it, he would have felt the same as Bucky.

She glanced down at her hands again, trying to choose her words with care.] I don't regret what happened between us either. If this had just been about my past, my memories... I never would have allowed you as close as I did. I'm not... I'm no longer the person I was with him. But I'll understand if you... if I'm an unpleasant reminder of things you wish you didn't know.

[Bucky gives her a wry smile.] Sweetheart, if the future is anything like you say it is, you're about the only good thing I can see in it.

[He almost leaves it there but he doesn't want the heaviness of that truth hanging between them either.]

Hey, do me a favor and say my nickname again? Your face looks a little like... you know when you try to get kids to eat their vegetables and they're somewhere between offended and resigned to fate?

[She huffs out a soft laugh at that, her tone wry as she rubs her thumb over the back of her knuckles. And tries to ignore the familiar warm flutter when he calls her sweetheart, trying not to look into it too deeply.] That is a sad state of affairs.

[His request has her gaze coming up in curiosity for a moment, until he got to the end of it, and her surprise is visible for a moment before she makes a face at him, her nose wrinkling as she sticks her tongue out. It's surprisingly playful for her, but its a break in the heavy tension that's lingered since he knocked on her door.]

Watch it, Barnes. I am still capable of kicking your ass.

I dunno, I hear some girls like that kind of thing. Metal arm, huh? Is that what it takes? [Bucky raises his eyebrows.

He leans in when she says she can kick his ass, the spark of a challenge written all over his face.]

As long as you call me Bucky while you do it.

Wouldn't you like to know? [Her tone is oh-so-dry but there's the briefest twitch at the corner of her lips as he counters with that. There's relief written in her gaze, that he can take some part of this lightly, lightly enough to crack a joke like that at least. Falling back on humor - its a trait her and Clint often use. Sometimes the only reaction you can take, in her opinion.

He leans forward then, and she can't help but smile at the expression on his face, the playful challenge that sparks in his gaze. Her gaze warms, lips curving upwards as she regards him in amusement.]

Fine, then. Bucky. Happy?

[Bucky gives her his best shit-eating grin.] Depends. Are you gonna make that face every time? Because you know that's the best part, right?

You're imagining it. [He's still leaning close, smirking at her in that cocky arrogant way of his. That look she loves to see on his face, as new and subtly different as it is.] I'm not making a face.

[He's taunting her, challenging her, and while she's not entirely sure she's reading him right, she takes him up on it, taking a risk, though her breath freezes tight in her chest as she moves. There's a challenge in her own gaze as she leans close, gives him a playful shove that knocks him off the arm of the sofa and back onto the cushions, intending to perch on the arm she'd just knocked him off of and smirk down at him.]

Denial isn't just a-- [Natasha shoves him and Bucky reacts just like he did during their sparring session - he grabs for her arm, trying to drag her down with him. Except this time he's laughing, too.]

[She lets him, a hint of a laugh escaping her as she ends up on top of him, half-sprawled on the sofa. She reaches for a pillow, playfully swatting him with it as she laughs again.]

There's no denial! It's just my face! [She scoffs at him, teasing, but some of the shadows are faded from her gaze now, replaced by genuine humor.]

[The swat earns her another chuckle.] Then I guess you've just got a cute face.

Edited 2013-04-10 18:19 (UTC)

[She rolls her eyes at that, resting on top of him, her arms crossed on his chest as she peers down at him, still looking bemused.] You're impossible.

Sorry. [He brushes a loose curl away from her face and tucks it gently behind her ear.] Can't help it.

Have you tried? [It's said teasingly, but her gaze has softened at his move, watching him with a thoughtful look as she props her chin atop her hands on his chest.]

Nope. [One of his hands settles just above the curve of her hip.] Comfortable?

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