He'd never given much thought about working with Natasha before. Not that he has an objection to it-- he doesn't. He just didn't think it was something she wanted. Their intermingling, the training the Soldier had put such a young girl through. Neither of them had really done it out of their own free will. The Soldier had been a blank slate, so easily convinced to do anything his handlers asked him to. The girl had been forced to fight, to kill. He remembers enough.
He shifts a little, trying to appear lax. Not relaxed, not before a major mission, but his limbs are loose enough he doesn't look tense, just matter of fact. He smiles a little at her amusement, because that's a good sign. Probably a lot on her mind, but she's at least willing to talk with him, so there's that. He nods a little, an acknowledgement that they should be fine, if they can keep this up.
Talk about their past later on, just get through this mission. He doesn't react right away when she reaches for his collar, but he nods after a second's hesitation. "Good." He's fairly confident they'll be okay, and tries to give her an encouraging nod. Not a smile, nothing that could be seen as condescending, at least he hopes not. "You and me? We'll get through this in record time, make the rest of 'em jealous."
Four days later, and she was still keyed up enough to scream. Not because of the mission - things were going surprisingly well, actually; it had been ridiculously easy to intercept the shipment right outside of the city, replace the informational packet with one prearranged to reroute the convoy to the new location, and vanish without detection. Of course, that was only part of the assignment; the next step was to locate and neutralize the ringleaders of this little manufacturing ring, which had proved to be a little more difficult.
These individuals were exceptional at covering their tracks, and only a few in their selected cadre were privy to names and locations. Natasha had called in several favors from her network of contacts across the Motherland, and thankfully doing so had borne decent fruit. She and Bucky now had a list with five names, each one in a different city and three in a different country entirely. But a job was a job, and she was determined to see it through.
The first had been almost too easy: Dmitri Kostolev in Moscow, a gentleman who had come to believe his own hubris and whose arrogance had made him careless. He'd been brazen enough to appear in broad daylight, in public, never imagining that death waited patiently atop the butcher's shop across the street. He'd dropped like a stone, a bullet hole directly through his left eye, while a redheaded woman feigned hysteria and screamed for medical attention as the populace reacted appropriately.
The second, Cyril Polivka, was currently "vacationing" in Berlin, and intelligence had revealed that the fifty-something "crime boss" enjoyed..."pretty things". Women, namely. And he never minded spending obscene amounts of money to procure the most appealing females available, which was why Natasha was currently seated at the desk in the small motel room they'd rented yesterday, putting on the finishing touches of makeup.
Her outfit was a bit more risque than she'd usually wear, but they had one shot at this, and she needed to make it count. Long red curls cascaded down her back and over her shoulders in artful disarray, and she gazed at her reflection in the small mirror propped atop the desk, every so often flicking her eyes over a bare shoulder at her companion, studiously cleaning through his small arsenal of weaponry. For the second time.
Natasha capped her mascara, scarlet-painted lips twitching. "You don't approve, I take it."
The fact that the assignment was going well is a relief-- even with Natalia acting.... well, tense is the diplomatic word for it, because it means they can work professionally with each other. He might have been an unwilling assassin, but he had been trained as a sniper. All of this is nothing new to him. It's why Kostolev had been a target he didn't bat an eye at. Brazen disregard for safety just means the targets they need to get rid of are that much more easy get rid of.
Damn HYDRA, he wants to rid the world of every single one of them. Their next target is the one who makes him wary, because it means sending Natasha into a dangerous situation again when she keeps acting like something about to explode at any moment. She can handle herself, especially against a skeevy man. That's not the problem, the problem is her attitude, how she seems to think Bucky views her with some kind of contempt.
He finally looks up at her, still holding the rifle in his hands carefully, like it's a prized dog. "You look good," he says, allowing himself that one compliment. Not too much, he hopes. "I just wish you weren't getting dolled up for a scumbag like Polivka. Looks more like a dress you should be wearing for a night on the town." He lips jerk upward for a moment before he drops back into a neutral look.
Her fingers tightened on her eyelash brush, and she felt her heart give a strange sort of flip-fop, and had to bite the inside of her lip against a sudden surge of...of...what was that? She'd felt it so rarely that it was an unfamiliar emotion entirely. So foreign was it that she had to pause altogether and focus on it, just to realize why her chest suddenly felt so tight and she had the ridiculous urge to break right down into tears.
But rather than dwell on it - there was still work waiting for the both of them, after all - Natasha slowly put down her accessories and swiveled around on the uncomfortable wooden stool, leveling an unerring gaze on the man seated across the room.
"Thank you," was automatic. But she slowly crossed her arms and her knees, leaning back lightly against the desk behind her. Regarding her "partner" for a long, silent moment, Natasha finally shook her head, sighed, and spoke again, tone carrying none of her former sharpness.
"...James." She'd had enough. She couldn't, she simply couldn't, bear this any longer. "James," she said again, "what are we doing, here?" She didn't mean Berlin, either.
He watches her carefully, gaze flickering up and down her body, an appraising gaze even if he's not moving from his spot. An acknowledgement that he does, in fact, find her beautiful. He nods at the thanks, though he doesn't say anything else. Once he's in the mode of assassin, it's difficult for him to break out of it, even now that he's working with the team.
Her words are what gets him to drop his weapon, gently on the floor as he looks at her. His face twitches, just a little. Enough that it's clear he's thinking about what she said, what she really means, because it's not about the mission; he's sharp enough to be able to tell that, though his jaw works in a way that indicates he's not entirely sure what to say. He looks away, before turning back at her.
"Being a couple of people with a past that would be a real mess if the rest of the team caught wind of it, probably," he says with a sigh. The fact that Natalia has aged and he hasn't only complicates the matter. He combs his fingers through his hair, trying to calm himself. "There's no shame in not knowing how to feel about it. Our past is.... complicated."
Bucky is silent for a long moment before he continues. "I have a lot of holes in my memory, still. But I do remember you. I think I frightened you."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
maskirovka) wrote2018-04-08 02:44 pm
no subject
He shifts a little, trying to appear lax. Not relaxed, not before a major mission, but his limbs are loose enough he doesn't look tense, just matter of fact. He smiles a little at her amusement, because that's a good sign. Probably a lot on her mind, but she's at least willing to talk with him, so there's that. He nods a little, an acknowledgement that they should be fine, if they can keep this up.
Talk about their past later on, just get through this mission. He doesn't react right away when she reaches for his collar, but he nods after a second's hesitation. "Good." He's fairly confident they'll be okay, and tries to give her an encouraging nod. Not a smile, nothing that could be seen as condescending, at least he hopes not. "You and me? We'll get through this in record time, make the rest of 'em jealous."
no subject
These individuals were exceptional at covering their tracks, and only a few in their selected cadre were privy to names and locations. Natasha had called in several favors from her network of contacts across the Motherland, and thankfully doing so had borne decent fruit. She and Bucky now had a list with five names, each one in a different city and three in a different country entirely. But a job was a job, and she was determined to see it through.
The first had been almost too easy: Dmitri Kostolev in Moscow, a gentleman who had come to believe his own hubris and whose arrogance had made him careless. He'd been brazen enough to appear in broad daylight, in public, never imagining that death waited patiently atop the butcher's shop across the street. He'd dropped like a stone, a bullet hole directly through his left eye, while a redheaded woman feigned hysteria and screamed for medical attention as the populace reacted appropriately.
The second, Cyril Polivka, was currently "vacationing" in Berlin, and intelligence had revealed that the fifty-something "crime boss" enjoyed..."pretty things". Women, namely. And he never minded spending obscene amounts of money to procure the most appealing females available, which was why Natasha was currently seated at the desk in the small motel room they'd rented yesterday, putting on the finishing touches of makeup.
Her outfit was a bit more risque than she'd usually wear, but they had one shot at this, and she needed to make it count. Long red curls cascaded down her back and over her shoulders in artful disarray, and she gazed at her reflection in the small mirror propped atop the desk, every so often flicking her eyes over a bare shoulder at her companion, studiously cleaning through his small arsenal of weaponry. For the second time.
Natasha capped her mascara, scarlet-painted lips twitching. "You don't approve, I take it."
no subject
Damn HYDRA, he wants to rid the world of every single one of them. Their next target is the one who makes him wary, because it means sending Natasha into a dangerous situation again when she keeps acting like something about to explode at any moment. She can handle herself, especially against a skeevy man. That's not the problem, the problem is her attitude, how she seems to think Bucky views her with some kind of contempt.
He finally looks up at her, still holding the rifle in his hands carefully, like it's a prized dog. "You look good," he says, allowing himself that one compliment. Not too much, he hopes. "I just wish you weren't getting dolled up for a scumbag like Polivka. Looks more like a dress you should be wearing for a night on the town." He lips jerk upward for a moment before he drops back into a neutral look.
no subject
But rather than dwell on it - there was still work waiting for the both of them, after all - Natasha slowly put down her accessories and swiveled around on the uncomfortable wooden stool, leveling an unerring gaze on the man seated across the room.
"Thank you," was automatic. But she slowly crossed her arms and her knees, leaning back lightly against the desk behind her. Regarding her "partner" for a long, silent moment, Natasha finally shook her head, sighed, and spoke again, tone carrying none of her former sharpness.
"...James." She'd had enough. She couldn't, she simply couldn't, bear this any longer. "James," she said again, "what are we doing, here?" She didn't mean Berlin, either.
no subject
Her words are what gets him to drop his weapon, gently on the floor as he looks at her. His face twitches, just a little. Enough that it's clear he's thinking about what she said, what she really means, because it's not about the mission; he's sharp enough to be able to tell that, though his jaw works in a way that indicates he's not entirely sure what to say. He looks away, before turning back at her.
"Being a couple of people with a past that would be a real mess if the rest of the team caught wind of it, probably," he says with a sigh. The fact that Natalia has aged and he hasn't only complicates the matter. He combs his fingers through his hair, trying to calm himself. "There's no shame in not knowing how to feel about it. Our past is.... complicated."
Bucky is silent for a long moment before he continues. "I have a lot of holes in my memory, still. But I do remember you. I think I frightened you."