maskirovka | overflow / open post

"I'm not going anywhere," Bucky promises. He kisses the crown of her head again, inhaling the soft scent of her hair, and wraps his arms around her a little tighter so he can try and soothe her some. It's selfish and he knows it but there's no way around it - he's gone on her and having the chance to love her is all he's wanted.

"I'm not going to leave you, Natasha. Not now and not ever, all right? No matter what happens, I'll put my body between you and danger."

She tugged him down the hall and back into the bedroom, wasting no time in pulling him back into the covers and pillows and then insinuating herself in his arms, the remnants of the tattered nightmare still clinging in her mind. Natalia felt herself trembling very slightly, as if she were afraid to even look back over her shoulder for fear of what might be coming after her.

But at least this way, she had a bulwark against such horrors; Bucky's arms were strong and warm, and curved around her slender frame so perfectly; she thought nothing at all of resting her head on his left arm, the metal warm from their shared body heat and a perfect pillow to nestle into.

"Just..." she heard herself whispering, in a voice that didn't sound at all like her own, "...hold me, James? So that I can sleep...?"

Bucky had thought it selfish to do that when she didn't remember because it would have been only for him that he'd be holding her, only for his comfort that he kept her close enough to feel the beating of her heart. As selfish as it might be, though, he can't resist when she's the one asking it of him. She's asking it of him and he's going to give it to her; he's always been a fool for her.

"I wouldn't do anything else," he promises, tugging down the blankets on the bed and easing her down with him so they can arrange themselves comfortably. He's slept many nights with Natasha sprawled across his chest and it feels so much like one of those that Bucky is awash in memory.

"If you need me, I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."

When she next opened her eyes, Yelena - Natasha - automatically consulted her inner clock and it revealed that about four hours had passed. It was early afternoon, and the rain was still steadily coming down. She idly wondered if it would rain forever, but that was absurd. But the foul weather was working in their favor, so she'd take it, regardless of how soggy the world became.

Further scrutiny proved that she was also warm and comfortable, wrapped in a pair of strong arms, with her head nestled securely against a broad, solid chest, a steady heartbeat thumping against her cheek. James. Tilting her head, she gazed up at his profile, seeing him still asleep, or skillfully feigning slumber. Partly to test her theory, and partly because she wanted to, the redhead gently eased up enough to softly press her lips to his, the gentlest kiss, but one that lingered, because of its sweetness.

Bucky stirs a little but he doesn't wake up. He's dreaming of Romania, of the Black Sea, and he's thinking of having a little house in Mamaia or Constanța where they wouldn't have to worry about running from SHIELD or HYDRA or anyone. They could take walks along the beach, hand in hand, and spend their days in relative quiet. Both of them were resourceful, so they wouldn't want for money, and they'd be free.

God, but he wants it, and he murmurs Natasha's name against her hair before pulling her even closer still.

She heard him whisper something - sounded like a name - before he shifted, pulling her closer and fully across the broad expanse of his chest before she could wriggle away. But Bucky sighed then settled beneath her again, and Natasha simply let herself linger, resting her cheek on his chest, her nose beneath his chin. She dimly realized that they were tangled together, the sheet lying haphazardly across them both, but she was still too weary to care. She wasn't cold, the little house was quiet, and she sensed no immediate threats looming anywhere near.

So she burrowed down into his strong arms again, yawned, and closed her eyes, fully intent on slipping back into slumber. A shrill electronic tone had her jerking upright, nearly screaming in surprise and panic. But she quickly realized that it had to be Bucky's cell phone, no doubt tucked into his jacket in the living room. Her heart still leapt into her throat, however; had they been discovered already?

Bucky jerks awake too, startled by the ring of his phone. He hasn't used it since fleeing with Natasha and he'd had it turned off at points to avoid detection. At some point in the cabin, though, he'd turned it back on and someone was trying to reach him.

"Shit," he says, shifting a bit under her. "Who do you think's trying to call? Think we need to abandon ship and leave it here?"

She automatically rolled off of him and to her feet, instinctively checking the windows for any infiltration. "Your team," was her immediate answer. "Your Captain Rogers, perhaps." It wouldn't surprise her; in fact, she was a little surprised that Captain America hadn't tracked them down already.

A jerk of her head towards the hallway, and she said, "Answer. Then you will know. We can leave after." Because the second he connected that call, they'd be hunting. And if SHIELD was able to trace their location, Natalia knew that HYDRA would probably beat them here.

"Hurry," she urged.

Bucky picks up the phone, confirms it's Steve, and presses end almost as soon as he picks up. They've got his location now, sure, but he's not going to give them any indication of where they're headed.

"Come on, let's go. We need to get to an airport and fast. We need to be on the move constantly and we need to get into the air."

She was dressed in less than five minutes. Packed in three more. Shoving a weapon in her belt as she strode for the door, leaving behind what wasn't absolutely essential. Reality had found them again, it was time to once more fight for survival, and in order to stay one step ahead of the enemy - which was now everyone - they had to keep moving. Never stop, never stop.

God, would they ever?

"Why did you not speak to him?" Natasha asked as Bucky pressed the gas, sending them hurtling back towards the main road. "He is your best friend, is he not?" But she likely knew why: Rogers would be monitored by SHIELD, and there were doubtless agents en route to this location even now.

"I know they're listening. He doesn't have a clean line," Bucky says, trying to drive both as fast and as inconspicuous as possible. "The second I said something, they'd know where we were headed. He has enough to know where we are and he has a start - that's all I can give him. Anything else isn't safe."

Bucky's main objective right now is to keep Natasha safe. He thinks Steve will understand that and, if he doesn't, he'll be glad to explain it to him the next time they can see one another.

"There's someone in SHIELD that claims to know you. Name Barton mean anything to you? A Clint Barton?"

Well, that made sense. She didn't flinch as they hit the main road and Bucky began swerving in and around traffic. Not really keen on anyone knowing their location - particularly anyone from HYDRA or SHIELD - Natasha reached into the back seat, fetched a small laptop from her duffel, and in less than two minutes was skimming over available flights nearby, and acceptable destinations.

Bucky's question, however, brought up from her hacking, and she frowned, brows furrowing. "...maybe." She shook her head. "Sounds...familiar, somehow." Like intel she'd have received for an assignment. But to more pressing matters, given the circumstances, she asked in return, "Where do you want to go?"

"He claims he ran into you in an op in Budapest," Bucky elaborates, trying to focus on the road and getting somewhere as quickly as possible without being conspicuous; getting pulled over is going to be a headache and a half that he'd like to avoid. He sees Natasha hacking out of his peripheral vision and he hopes she's setting up something good for them that will get them out of this country and out from under SHIELD and HYDRA for the time being.

"Says you're one hell of a woman to neutralize. I owe that only partially to my training," he says, chuckling softly. "You were formidable even before I got my hands on you."

One of Natasha's eyebrows went up. "You would be wise to remember that, da?" But there was little heat in her words, just matter-of-fact surety. The name Barton tickled a memory, not one as brutal as Barnes, but it was there, nevertheless.

"...an archer," she murmured suddenly, gazing out of the windshield but not seeing the traffic. "He prefers the bow and arrow to conventional weaponry." She wasn't sure where that'd come from, but it felt right.

"Where do you want to go?" she asked again, turning back to her laptop. "If overseas, we will need passports. But sooner, the better."

"Bulgaria, maybe. We could get to Romania from there over the border without flying," Bucky says. It's something that they might not immediately connect the dots on, really, and as long as they stay in the Baltic, language isn't going to be an issue.

"We'll fly into Sofia and lay low for a bit, then move our way north into Romana," Bucky decides. "It's not obvious like New York or Russia. I think we'll get away with it."

HYDRA was waiting for them at the airport. Natasha spied the first operative just after they'd ditched the vehicle. But she'd insisted that Bucky stop at a small strip mall before arriving, so she was prepared. They'd taught her well, after all. Both of them were now dressed in completely different clothes, Natasha's striking red hair was now concealed beneath a wig of long brunette curls, tied casually at the back of her neck.

She'd managed to obtain fake passports and ID's en route, thus slipping through security was relatively easy. Until she caught a series of familiar faces lurking in certain places. She directed Bucky to fetch their boarding passes, then slipped into the crowd, carefully maneuvering around the operatives, but didn't engage. Doing so would be as obvious as signal fire on a mountaintop, and she wanted no traces of their passing to alert the organizations hunting them.

Back at the gate, Natasha stepped up next to her "husband", sliding her arm through his with a vapid smile. "Are you excited?" she asked, mainly for the benefit of those nearby. "Our first vacation in years, I can hardly believe it!"

"It's hard to get away from the office," Bucky says, affecting a neutral, faintly Canadian accent. It's nondescript and, better, nothing like the Russian or the Brooklyn that people would be looking for. He's gotten good at blending in over the past few years and the shave and haircut at the strip mall salon had done wonders. It's not great, no, but it does the trick. They're looking for someone with long hair and three days' stubble.

"You know how it is, hon. If you're good at something, you end up getting co-opted into every project there is. I just hate that it means you don't ever get to go anywhere with me."

It's surprisingly easy to fall into a couple's banter with Natasha and when Bucky sees two men easing toward him, he turns his back and pulls Natasha close to him and kisses her without warning. They won't see their faces even if they pass close by and PDA is going to put them off regardless.

She'd just opened her mouth to quip back something witty, schooling her voice to match his, nondescript and plain, but before she could, Bucky was snaking an arm around her waist and pulling her around, his mouth descending on hers and muffling her soft squeak of surprise. But from beneath her lashes, she spied the reason: two overly curious blokes in almost identical dress stepping far too close, so she gave in, winding her arms around her "husband's" neck, letting her fingers play in the short hair at his nape.

Natasha kissed him right back, open-mouthed and hungry, letting herself fall further into the "part", and grinning into their affection like a love-sick adolescent, even bumping his nose with hers when they pulled slightly apart. "I'm glad you managed to convince them," she breathed in a twinkling tone. She noted those around them taking pains not to notice their antics. Worked every time. "I can't wait to have you all to myself, for once."

She hugged him to her, lips barely moving at his ear. "They've moved on. Let's get in line to board."

When Bucky sees the agents move on, he starts to pull away when he feels Natasha's lips at his ear. The kiss had been damned good, yes, but it'd been an act to keep them from being found out. What she's doing now isn't a necessary part of the show and it sends a bolt of heat flashing down his spine.

"Yeah, let's board. Tell them you're pregnant or something so we can board early," Bucky says. "The sooner we're on the plane, the safer we're going to be. If they don't spot us, they won't get on and follow."

He hopes so, anyway. He's a little distracted at the moment.

She giggled, low and sultry, yet another aspect of their "cover". "We don't have to wait," Natasha told him with a coy little grin. "We have first class tickets." And she deftly plucked their boarding passes out of his jacket, waving them under his nose playfully. "But it's almost time anyway, so let's go." Taking his gloved hand in hers, Natasha towed her "husband" towards the terminal gates. "The sooner we get settled, the better."

Appropriately flirtatious and playful as she handed off their boarding passes to the gate attendant, Natasha kept a tight grip on her companion the entire time. She watched the crowd behind him carefully, every alert for any too-curious onlookers to appear over his shoulder. Only when they both stepped off of the extension bridge and onto the plane, greeted by solicitous crew members, did she let her shoulders ease, expelling a covert breath of relief.

...unless... Her eyes narrowed. No, there was no way SHIELD or even HYDRA could have predicted what flight they'd have taken, or that they were even leaving the country. And this was Canada, surveillance was scarce here. But she nevertheless dropped atop the small couch in their cabin, letting her head fall back against the panel when Bucky firmly closed the privacy door behind them.

"...finally."

"Smart move, booking first class. I would have gone coach to look unassuming but we get the privacy this way. Nobody's going to be looking for us up here." There's a chance that some of the flight crew might be plants but Bucky is hoping they aren't. There's no way to know that they'd be taking this flight, anyway, so it'd have been hard to plant in the first place.

"Do you mind if I stretch my legs a bit? These cabins suck when you're anything over 5'6"," Bucky says. "And I passed that when I was in sixth grade, doll, so I've got to have some room to move."

"Coach was too crowded, same for economy class. Nowhere to go if we were spotted." She snorted softly, switching to the padded chair to cede Bucky the couch. "At least up here, if we have to, we can hide a body without much difficulty."

A knock just outside had her glancing up sharply, but she adopted that same fake, vapid smile and quickly shoved Bucky down on the couch and half-draped herself across his lap, calling in that same inflectionless voice, "Yes? Come in." And made some show of sitting up properly, pretending to adjust her clothing as the smiling stewardess appeared around the screen.

"Good afternoon," the woman said in that rote, sing-song voice, then launched into her practiced spiel regarding safety, service, and satisfaction, indulging the "vacationing couple" their lovesick little nuances before discreetly withdrawing once more. Still seated on Bucky's thigh, her legs stretched out over his lap and the rest of the couch, Natasha rolled her eyes and vented another small snort.

"Maybe there won't be any more interruptions for the next several hours, eh? Unless they're bringing food, then that's all right."

"Might as well just make yourself comfortable. I'm only going to be comfortable this way," Bucky points out. "But you shouldn't be deprived of the couch just because my legs are longer. You don't weigh that much, after all."

That's said with a twinkle in his eye. He remembers the relationship they used to have even if Natasha doesn't have all of her memories and he can admit to himself he wants to be a little selfish and have her in his lap for eight or ten hours where there's no where else they can go.

"Only if you don't mind."

One of her eyebrows went up. "I don't mind," she told him, a little cheeky, "but there's more than enough room for little ol' me." Natasha gingerly shifted around until she was sitting astride Bucky's lap, and draped her arms over his shoulders as she gazed at him softly.

"This is better, da</i?" More fitting for their "cover", but who was pretending anymore? "We should take off soon, and land in about fifteen hours." Plenty of time for...what? Her gaze drifted across Bucky's face, resting briefly on his lips, before meeting his eyes again.

Bucky knows he ought not get too attached to this. It's a role right now, a game, and throwing themselves headlong into it is the best way to make it seem real for anyone they run into. Everyone they see is going to remember the nice Canadian couple on a romantic holiday and not two cagey Russians looking over their shoulder for agents from not one but two clandestine organizations. Bucky cups her cheek.

"I think you're supposed to have your seatbelt on right now, doll. You wouldn't want to go flying around the cabin or something."

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