maskirovka | overflow / open post II

"I know, but-" He breathes out slowly, licking his lips, closing his eyes as her head lands on his shoulder. He can hear the frustration in her tone. He knows that she's only trying to help him.

When she shifts so that she's looking up at him, chin on his shoulder, he realizes how weak he is for her. She's anything but comical. She has a sway over his heart, it seems. "...Alright." For her. He's finding, little by little that he'd do a lot for her. "But- I need to do something first."

Hesitating for a moment, he pulls his notebook out of his back pocket, along with the pen. "I have to write things down."

Quietly delighted at Bucky's acquiescence, Natasha hid her grin in a soft smile, giving ground as he fished out the notebook and pen. "Sure," she agreed amiably, shifting so that he could do just that.

She was content to just lightly lean against him and sip her ginger ale, gazing off into nothing as he worked. So seldom did she ever have the chance to just be still, doing so this way was...so nice. Comforting. Soothing.

And she knew better than to pry into his private thoughts, so she kept her gaze averted from the pages, even though the spy in her burned to read what was between those simple covers. But even Natasha understood that some secrets needed to be kept.

He decides it's alright. That it doesn't have to be such a private thing anymore, especially around her- which is the only reason he's so out in the open about it now. He trusts her. Even if she looks, he trusts her.

But even if she looks away, it's alright with him. He writes pages of notes, memories, everything he wants to keep track of very meticulously, pausing and stopping here and there as he tries to fill in every detail. He glances at her from time to time, writing it down till the very last moment.

When he's done, he closes the notebook and sets it aside, and before he can stop himself, he leans in and kisses her shoulder. "Thank you."

She looked back when she heard the notebook close, and started to say something, but before she could, Bucky moved faster than she, and to her surprise, pressed a small kiss to her bare shoulder. It was so unexpected that for a series of heartbeats, Natasha's mind absolutely went blank.

Thankfully, she recovered quickly, though her cheeks were hot, and she gave a soft nod. "...welcome," was all she managed. And she took the license to once more resume her comfortable lean against Bucky's side, this time going right ahead and squirming her way beneath his left arm to curl close.

"That's a good idea," she heard herself muse, arms loosely winding around the soldier's solid torso. "Writing everything down." Rather than let the subject get heavy, she lightly inquired, "Did you write about your new spoon?"

He catches it, because how can he not? The slight warmth in her cheeks, the quick heartbeat. It's what he's trained to do, after all. But he doesn't want it to be about that. So instead he smiles softly, lifting his arm when she tries to squirm under it, feeling a little more comfortable with moving it around her this time.

He feels more comfortable when it comes to everything about her now.

Even if he's taken a little off guard himself, that she knew what he was writing about. He's okay with it, though. "I did. I wrote down all the details, and everything you said to me.... and every way you made me feel."

Natasha gave a soft smile to Bucky’s answer, absently making slow, lazy circles across his chest with one small hand as she listened. And had to chuckle softly.

“I hope it was all good things,” she quipped lightly. But surely it was, else he wouldn’t be here, that she knew. The world’s skittish stray cat: Bucky Barnes.

Though she couldn’t help but ask afterwards, “…how do I make you fee, James?” Because honestly, what woman wouldn't want to know?

The motions of her hand moving along his chest make him feel some kind of way. He's not sure what the feeling is, but it's deep. It almost feels like it's burning inside of him. Her touch seems to wake up something inside of him that has long been dead.

"All good things," he confirms quietly, trying to keep his voice steady and calm, despite his heart beating harder now. At the same time, he lets his fingers brush lightly against her shoulder, because it feels right. It feels nice.

At her question he bites at his lip, feeling warmth crawl up his neck. Surely she can hear his heart beating by now, it feels like it's going to beat right out of his chest. "You make me feel-- warm. Real. Not just a ghost, but a living, breathing person who can feel."

As predicted, Natasha’s hand slowed then paused to rest right over Bucky’s heart, her brows furrowing at its increased rhythm. But it was only a momentary concern, because then he explained, and it all rather neatly clicked together.

Frown fading, the redhead couldn’t hide a soft, shy little smile, ducking her chin slightly.

“Well,” she heard herself say after a beat, “that’s progress, right?”

God, she hoped so. For reasons she refused to let herself rationalize, it hurt Natasha’s heart to know how Bucky still saw himself. But then, who had bothered to show him otherwise?

She can feel it. He knows she can feel his heart beating so hard for her, and he wonders what she thinks. Maybe it's a terrible thing that will make it all uncomfortable between them, and he doesn't want that.

But if he can keep it simple- progress, then it can be alright, right? He hopes so. "It is." He chews at his lip again, trying to calm his heart. "I hope that's alright." The way he feels.

"Of course it is." She knew he was still so tentative, so afraid to express anything, that even this simple affection was an uphill climb on a mountain made out of glass. Well, perhaps she could help with that...

"Hey," she quietly entreated, placing a hand to his cheek and turning his head to make him look at her, "look at me, James." Wide green eyes awaited, soft, clear, and holding nothing but sincerity and warmth.

"It's good to feel things. Especially positive things, right?" The hand on his cheek slowly feathered through his hair, smoothing the strands through her fingers. "I'm glad to be here with you. I'm glad that you decided to come with me." Her lips tilted in a small smile.

"...I've...thought about you a lot, these last three months."

There goes his heart again when her hand moves to his cheek. He's always been good at controlling it, but that was as the Soldier. He's Bucky Barnes now, and so he lets it. He lets it beat on for her.

He does look at her though, the rest of him seemingly calm as he does so, searching her eyes, her face. She speaks the truth, but it's a truth that she's right to remind him of. Sometimes he needs that, because it's so hard for him to remember- or to reconcile with everything he's been trained to do.

"Right. It's good to feel things. Positive things." They're all positive things when it comes to Natasha. There's so much warmth when she looks at him- such sincerity. She's the only person he can remember ever looking at him like this. "I'm glad to be here with you too."

He breathes out slowly, tilting his head a little into her hold, the way her fingers move through his hair so gently. He remembers the first time she did the same, in his little apartment. He's come a long way, even since then, thanks to her. He hasn't stopped thinking of her since then, so it's wondrous to think she had done the same. "You have?"

Natasha nodded, quietly serious. "I have, yeah." She didn't pull her hand away as she went on, saying, "Before...everything, Steve talked about you all the time. All the time," she emphasized. "And since I was really the only one who listened, I learned a lot about you from those stories." Another soft smile, fingertips gently gliding over Bucky's scruffy cheek before slipping back into his hair.

"Then, well...Berlin happened, and yeah...some pretty rough consequences. But I even though I knew you were the Winter Soldier - and I admit that shocked me more than anyone else realized - I always kept coming back to that Bucky Barnes from Rogers' late-night stories."

Natasha paused then, lowering her hand only to lift it again but this time gently cup Bucky's jaw, pad of her thumb just lightly stroking over his lower lip. "He's still in here, you know. But so is the Soldier. And...know what I think? I think both of those men make you...you." She suddenly couldn't help but watch the slow back-and-forth of her thumb, whispering, "The guy who's here with me...right now."

Bucky's eyebrows shoot up in surprise before he can even think to control it- or the emotions that follow. Steve. Steve talked about him, and he knows he shouldn't be so surprised, but he is. He wonders which stories were told, and if they are things he even remembers. They're stories of a Bucky Barnes that doesn't even exist anymore, but- she sees things differently.

She looks in his eyes and he can see that truth there- the way she believed in those stories, and in him. Or some version of him.

He swallows hard, gaze lowering as she keeps touching him the way he is. Gentle, kind, like he exists as a person, a man- Bucky Barnes. His gaze flits back up to hers though, when she tells him he's still in here, but so is the Soldier. His eyebrows furrow, pained at the thought, but the slow back and forth of her thumb along his lips tells him that she doesn't see it as a bad thing. She's not looking at him like he's still a monster.

That look on her face is something else, entirely.

"Is that okay? If I'm- both of those men, or maybe- neither of them at all?"

It wasn't a bad thing. And Natasha would never cheapen what he'd lived through by shunting it aside. She'd learned to embrace her own darkness too, after all. Her thumb stilled, but her hand remained, holding his cheek as gently as a feather.

"Yeah, James," Natasha told him with a slow nod. "Yeah, it's okay." After that, she didn't really know what else to say, so she allowed herself to give in just a little, and inch up so she could very lightly touch her mouth to his, the softest kiss. Acceptance. Understanding. Maybe even comfort.

It was okay. They were okay.

He doesn't want to embrace the darkness. He wants to get as far away from it as possible. But maybe that isn't possible and he has to learn how to live with it too. He's not sure who he is- maybe he her to look at him and even if she sees parts of the Winter Soldier, she still holds on to those stories Steve told her too.

Or maybe he can discover a whole different man. One who he's learning how to be around her.

All thoughts halt in his head when she leans up, pressing her lips against his, though. He's pretty sure his heart even stops beating in that moment. It's the softest thing he's ever felt, and that ache in his chest blossoms into something else entirely. His eyes flutter closed and he kisses her back, moving a hand to her face this time as well. Gentle, caring, nothing like the soldier. This part, he thinks he remembers from being Bucky Barnes.

Bucky kissed her back, thrilling her for a reason Natasha refused to let herself examine, but she kept it brief, easing away after just a few breathless moments lest both of them be overcome. The attraction between them was definitely the elephant in the room; she'd been trying to ignore it since the moment she'd stepped into his abode that first time, months ago. And it wasn't only for Steve that she'd agreed to "keep tabs" on this stray cat; she had to grudgingly admit that.

But it would be all too easy to take advantage, almost ridiculously so, and even though it wrenched her gut to pull away, she did, but not too far. Just enough to once more rest her head on Bucky's shoulder, sighing very softly.

Natasha's eyes closed, her hand returned to rest over his heart, and she whispered, "...that was nice, James. I'm glad you let me."

He thinks he kisses her like Bucky Barnes would, but there's something else there too. It's an attraction, but so much deeper than that. He can feel it, and he reminds himself that it's good.

When she pulls back, he breathes out against her lips, his hands sliding into her hair as her head lowers onto his shoulder. He can hardly believe that someone like her would want to kiss someone as broken and terrible as he is. But- maybe she feels that way about herself, too, even if he could never. Maybe, in the end, together they're not so terrible.

"I've wanted to- ever since I saw you again, I've wanted to." He told himself earlier not to admit it, but he has to. Feeling this is good. It's okay, she told him. "More than anything."

She was hardly the goddess he believed her to be. She had demons in her past, unquiet ghosts that refused to be put to rest and haunted her every time she closed her eyes. She had taken lives. Some guilty and deserving, others...not. And even now, the blood refused to wash from her hands. Yet these were her burdens to bear. She'd learned that. There was no way to outrun or outsmart them. They refused to be ignored. So she'd dealt. It hadn't been easy. It hadn't been quick. But she'd done it. And managed to find just a sliver of peace along the way.

Perhaps this was another small sliver; sitting here with another broken soldier, one even more haunted and traumatized than she had ever been. Unconsciously showing him how to move on, how to find a path in the midst of eternal chaos. And Natasha knew she'd be lying, not only to herself, if she tried to believe that it was only because of Steve, or "paying it forward", that had brought her here, at this moment.

"...really?" Bucky's admission was, of course, surprising. It lifted her head, brought her gaze back to his, green seeking blue. And another soft flush of color touched her cheeks. "That's very sweet, James." A little of her old humor surfaced with her sudden impish grin. "If you wanted to again, I wouldn't say no."

He knows who she is. He knows the things she's done. If she's a goddess to him, it's with knowing all of that and still believing it. Who is he to judge? He doesn't think he can be a good man ever again. Doesn't think he deserves any comforts after what he's done. But he finds peace in her as well. She has him wondering if maybe it's alright to have a little bit of that too.

"When you reached out again, I was disappointed that you weren't there. That you hadn't actually found me." It's why he came to meet her here instead. He couldn't stand the thought of never seeing her again.

She lifts her head to look at him and he offers her a small smile, his hand moving to her cheek. He may be skittish, and reserved, but this feels right. This time it's his fingers that brush along her flushed cheek, thumb sliding under the curve of her smile. Before he can ask if she's sure, or begin to doubt himself, he leans in to kiss her again, slow and soft, but a little more wanting than the gentle kiss they shared moments ago.

Maybe this was what they both needed. Natasha knew both she and Bucky had been so very lonely for so very long...even amid her "friends", her "found family", she still often felt like the outsider, alone in a crowded room. The past months had only cemented that in her mind, driven that wedge even further between her and those she considered paramount in all the world.

And Bucky... Well, he had every right to be aloof, stay hidden, keep to the shadows. Yet he was here with her now, reaching out of his own volition, his own want, and not for anything at all would she turn aside. Natasha instead leaned her cheek into his hand, lifting her chin just in time to meet his mouth once more and parting her lips in open invitation as her fingers unconsciously tangled in his shirt, perhaps afraid to cling too close.

They don't really have to be anyone when they're like this, do they. It's just- feelings and want and need. It goes above and beyond the people they're trying so hard to be, to figure out. They don't have to think when they're kissing like this. They can just be.

When she kisses him back, he feels something loosen up inside of himself. His shoulders, his heart, his pain. He wants to pull her closer, dip into her mouth at the open invitation, taste everything she is. He wants her. She makes him feel human, and god- he hopes he does the same.

Before she even realized it, Natasha found herself sideways across Bucky's lap, one small hand at the nape of his neck, holding him against her as kisses deepened and lengthened, and the other wound beneath his left arm, clutching as if she were actually afraid to let go. But Bucky was kissing her as if his life depended on it, a passion so swift and unfamiliar that it made Natasha's head spin.

This was crazy. This was stupid. This was...necessary, she realized, breaking their lips for a brief breath, only to close her eyes and dive right back in, a low, husky moan escaping her throat when inquisitive tongues slipped and slid against each other. Her hand behind his head tangled in his thick hair, and Natasha squirmed, unconsciously needing...more, but still unsure if either of them really wanted to cross this particular line.

She moves forward, and he moves with her, pulling her against him as she shifts into his lap. His kisses deepen as well, unable to stop himself any longer, because why should he? Why should they, if this is what they're feeling? If this is what they want.

The way she holds onto his left arm only solidifies how much he wants her, because he never shies away. She doesn't treat even the worst parts of him like a monster. She only gets closer and closer, returning his deep kisses as he winds his arms around her.

In his head he's so sure that he's never done this before, but his body says otherwise. When she moans, there's a deep ache of arousal that moves through him so quickly that he has to respond, moaning into the kiss as well, pulling her against him even more as he shifts back against the couch. This is crazy, stupid, necessary, and yet he's unsure as what to do with it either. All he knows is that this is exactly where he wants to be.

Natalia Romanova was hardly a blushing ingenue. Yet for all of her worldly experience, she'd not once had a lover of her own, someone not necessary for a mission, a companion selected to achieve a goal. She didn't make friends, she didn't keep family, she didn't have lovers. A lonely, solitary life, but it was all that she had.

Which was why even though the needy female within howled in protest, she forced herself to pull apart, lift her head and blink down at the prone soldier beneath her, his blue eyes glazed and pale cheeks flushed, kissable mouth parted and glistening. God.

But she had to be sure. For both of their sakes.

"...James," Natasha heard herself rasp, "...are you sure? --I mean, are we sure?" Because no matter how they might pretend otherwise, taking this gigantic leap would absolutely change everything.

When she pulls back, he forces himself to stop, looking up at her with bright blue eyes that are only hazy with want right now. With need. He listens though, hearing the hesitance in her voice, and the uncertainty in her eyes, mixed with everything else.

He pushes up on his elbows a little, but keeps his real arm around her, trying to catch his breath and think. "All I know is that I want you- but if you're not sure, we can stop." He wants her to be sure. He doesn't want her to regret this- and now he feels a little of that dread creeping in. What if she regrets all of this? "We don't... we don't have to do anything you don't want to do. It's okay."

That's important, the most important thing now. Being able to make their own choices.

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