widows_kiss | Appointments Post

The ball? Or have I missed something?

[Something else, anyway. She hadn't thought she'd been so distracted, her attention elsewhere, but Coulson's condition had her wondering if he'd just been exceptionally good at hiding or if she'd just been exceptionally oblivious.]

I went out with Adele the other night. I owed her an explanation for some things. Give her the story instead of having her try to make guesses.

There was a lot of vodka.

[He gives a small laugh at the memory. It had ended on a good note at least.]

I can imagine that took quite a bit of vodka, yes.

[Her voice is quiet as she watches him, all too still at his side.]

Did it help at the time?

A bottle between us.

[He shrugs, because he wasn't sure it had helped but... it had been necessary.]

Better than her hearing it from Loki.

It helped. I keep waiting for the past to stop having a hold over me, but maybe that's just wishful thinking.

Sounds familiar.

[She wrinkles her nose.]

Ah, yes. I suspect he has a bit of a different recounting of things than you might.

[She let her hand drift, her fingers sliding up to card lightly through his hair] Time heals some wounds, yes. Maybe even most. But the past has a habit of popping back up when we least expect it.

Can think of worse hobbies than sharing booze with gorgeous women.

[He grimaces at the thought.]

He knows everything about me, Tasha.

[He tilts his head to encourage that, the soothing gesture making him feel better. When he speaks next, it's quiet, but he knows that she can hear.]

Like James Buchanan Barnes, hm?

[She chuckles and tugs on a lock of hair at the first part, but grows solemn once more at the second. It's a fear she knows - the man knows far too much about her for her own comfort as well, but that's another matter entirely.

That doesn't mean he understands you, Clint.

[Her fingers had continued to brush against his hair, continuing the motion, but his question has her going all-too-still, because she knows she could lie, but its already too late.

She utters a single word in Russian, the meaning clear. She should have known he'd pick up on something sooner or later.]

[The tug gets a smile from him, and he moves so that he's leaning against her, head resting against her hip.]

There's never been that much to understand.

[The stillness from her just confirms it, what he'd suspected since he first saw them together.]

James Barnes died the same year Steve was frozen. And you're treating him like you've been friends and partners for years. You know him like you know me.

You underestimate yourself as ever, маленький ястреб.

[It was an endearment used rarely, and only ever for him, a hint to her rare mood. When he shifted, her fingers resumed their absent motion, stroking through his hair.]

Things are not always what they seem.

[The endearment catches him off guard, a softer smile appearing on his face, fond and grateful all at once.]

You're the one who makes me believe that.

[She could have bolted. That she's staying and talking is a good sign.]

That's kind of a given with us.

He's the on who didn't recognise you, isn't he? Which means... [His eyes widen slightly at the implications.]

He didn't die.

Well someone has to remind you.

[She almost curses again then, because she'd suspected that's what he'd been implying in the first place, without her inadvertently giving even more away. She claps a hand over his mouth with a sudden urgency.]

That is not information you should have, Clint. Or should spread.

[It's true, isn't it? The hand over his mouth, her urgency, it's all true. James Barnes didn't die when he fell from that train like the reports said. And if Natasha knew him, he can probably make a guess as to some of it. Natasha's past is a deep dark place and he knows that even he doesn't know most of it.]

No-one else would have picked up on it. And I'm not planning on rushing off to tell him. Or Steve. But... Who is he, Natasha? Who is he going to become that he'd throw you so badly?

[Her hand slides away with her gaze, something complicated and sad in her expression as she struggles to find the right words.]

He became a ghost. And a legend.

He was one of the ones who trained me.

[He tilts his head a little, watching her face. His expression tightens when she mentions that he had trained her... would train her. He knows that her training was long and unpleasant and something she rarely talks about.]

But a good one. One bright spot that you don't mind remembering. You care about him. Well, the man he'll become.

Edited 2012-12-15 17:55 (UTC)

[Her lips quirk and she glances away, her answer carefully evasive.]

Yes. I suppose you could say that.

[He reaches out, brushing her cheek lightly with his fingers.]

I'm glad that you had someone like that.

[She gives a quiet sign and turns her face into his touch, her eyes sliding closed.]

It complicates things now. I never knew... The man I knew, he didn't have memories of before. He wasn't the same man you know here. For all intents and purposes, Bucky Barnes did die that day like everyone thought.

[He'd become James instead. The Winter Soldier. Her mentor and teacher. And more.]

[He stays there, hand against her cheek and he's not sure what else he can offer her after this.

He doesn't like it, the thought of Bucky becoming someone else. He's become a friend since arriving here.]

We can avoid him if you want, if it's easier.

[And he would for her sake. He'd do a lot of things for her sake. They wouldn't even be a memory outside of this place anyway.]

[She laughs quietly and shakes her head, meeting his gaze again.]

No. I'm not sure even I could do that, and it would just arouse suspicions at this point. No one knows, as far as I'm aware. It's probably safest to keep it that way. He's just Bucky here. Steve's companion who was lost in the war. Just keep on as you have been and forget this. It doesn't matter. The information isn't important, not here and now.

[That's what she'd been trying her best to do, to remind herself. Even if she found herself cherishing every moment, every laugh, every new memory.]

[Easier said than done, especially when Bucky believed he was going to die. And he sort of was if what Natasha had said was true. That was depressing.]

Just you and me. [Another secret between them.] I'm not sure I could forget this if I tried. But you know it's safe with me.

Of course I know. [She huffs out a breath, half-laugh, half-sigh. A hesitation before she confesses softly.]

I don't even know if I'm doing the right thing.

[He pulls her against him, lying back down and dragging the covers back up over them both.]

I don't think anyone does, not in this place. Don't think we were ever prepared for this.

But I don't think you're doing the wrong thing.

That seems to be happening a lot, lately.

[She curls against him, arm twined about his waist, her head cushioned on his chest now, his heartbeat steady and familiar under her ear. He's warm, and she settles down against him, soaking up his heat.]

I'm glad you think so, at least. If this ever comes out... I'm not sure they'll thank me for keeping it from them.

Almost makes you long for the mundanity of breaking up a drug cartel, doesn't it?

[He relaxes with her there next to him, the feeling of her familiar. His free hand runs down her back, tracing idle patterns.]

I don't think they'd be thankful for you bringing it up either.

Ahh. The good old days.

[There's dry humor in her voice as she relaxes against him, his touch soothing.]

Neither option is especially pleasant. But he's happy. Happier than I've ever known him. That's important. I can keep this secret if it means preserving that.

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