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[ it takes a village and a half to get bucky into a suit, but when natasha asks him to don one for a very important mission, he does so without any hesitation or whining. (he doesn't even call sam to complain about the fact he has to wear a tie and dress shoes instead of his boots.) it's natasha. it's as simple as that.

they spend hours at the fancy dress function (far more than what natasha had initially promised, but bucky had known the moment he'd agreed that they wouldn't be spending "an hour tops" there). everyone's too high class for bucky, which seems to work in his favour despite the social anxiety he feels with his jacket and long-sleeved white shirt covering his arm. he ensures to keep it hidden, not wanting to draw any attention to the fact that he's here. no one seems to recognise natasha as a big shot avenger—that's luck he knows they don't have the luxury of sparing.

natasha's mismatched family is definitely a strange patchwork of pieces, but he sees almost immediately how well they all work together. alexei's the distraction; melina's the brains; yelena's the muscle that easily slinks in and out of view for long periods of time; and natasha's natasha. she charms, she glows; it's been a long time since bucky's been on any missions that required subtlety, but it's easy to learn it from natasha with the way she pretends to be someone else. sometimes, he thinks she's looking for the opportunity to be someone different.

by the end of the night, they've achieved their objective: get more information on how to take down the network of black widows who are under the influence of the late dreykov's brainwashing. turns out, copying things to a disc is only one step of a very long, tedious plan. not even shuri can tap into that network without a few more bits and bobs bucky doesn't understand.

back at natasha's finely furnished place (or furnished, really—he still lacks so many pieces of critical furniture), he collapses rather dramatically onto the couch, letting his legs hang off of it as he begins to lazily toe off his boots. yelena hadn't been subtle about her desire to follow them back; ever since natasha came back from vormir by a strange series of loopholes he'd helped shuri to discover, he doesn't blame her for wanting to keep an eye on her. sometimes, even bucky thinks she's going to disappear. they're an unofficial tag team that refuses to communicate—when bucky's not here, yelena is. it works, the non-communication.

he begins to undo his tie, easily working it apart with his metal fingers. he tilts his head lazily and peers up at her. even after a long evening of play, she still looks stunning. ]

I think your sister's still trying to kill me with her eyes.

[ the best spies know you always need a safe place to go, and that the safest place is where no one can find you. except this flat is safe because the people who care can find her here — and did find her somewhere impossible, at the ends of space and time. safety, natasha supposes, is relative.

and it is a decently furnished place, thanks. there’s even a tiny cactus on the windowsill, courtesy of stark, if the dusty card beside it that says don’t be prickly in a stylised scrawl is any indication. he gifted it to her during one of her reclusive, work-bound periods in the snap, and it managed to survive without her, so she figures it earned its spot in the romanoff household. she slips out of her heels and hooks her fingers in the ankle straps, wandering barefoot into the adjoining kitchen. light footsteps and a pop of a cork later, she returns with a bottle of wine in place of the shoes, clasped at the neck. alexei has been crashing through her limited glassware collection (that might still be in the cardboard box in the cupboard) since they reunited. it’s more annoying than charming, but that’s how it is with family, right? she’s learning that it might be, anyway.

leaning against the open frame of the living space, natasha tips her head to the opposite side, considering. she lets her gaze drag over bucky's open collar to his sharp features, more expressive than they were before the snap. there’s a certain luxury in looking at someone for the sake of it, not because you need something from them, and she indulges now. although barnes cuts fine lines all trussed up in a suit, she prefers him like this, rougher at the edges. ]

[ in the drawl of an old hollywood starlet, mouth snagging higher at one corner, ] Somebody’s gotta keep you in line around an ingénue like me. The papers will talk.

[ a knowing swig of the bottle. if they were recognised, sure, some the ol’ gossip rags would have papped them, but they both look less raggedy than their last televised appearances. and she’s legally dead, for the first time in a while, which does a reputation good. comes with a posthumous pardon, if she ever decides to be legally undead. that’s an option left on the table for the moment. better that the remaining widows don’t see her coming.

natasha crosses to join bucky, sidestepping the worn coffee table and hiking her simple, black dress higher to perch beside him on her modest sofa. a strap slides off her shoulder when she props her elbow on the side, but appearances stopped mattering when they walked into a room with one-way, bullet-proof glass. a few waves have sprung loose from the chignon pulled at the back of her skull, wear and tear from performing for the marks. she offers him the bottle with her other hand, careful to let their fingers brush in the exchange. ]

It’s the teeth you oughta worry about. [ yelena did bite her when they were sparring the other day. granted, that was after natasha broke the 'no face-shots' rule — but everyone knows that’s more of a guideline, anyway. when nat continues, it’s a softer thing. ] She’s not used to being around people. [ cocking a brow, ] Sound like anybody we know?

Edited (perceiving typos 12 hrs later forgive me) 2021-07-10 22:49 (UTC)

[ when she implies he's as antisocial as they come, he furrows his brows and makes a show of looking over his shoulder as if he expects someone else to be in the room with them. he touches a hand to his chest, a "who, me?" even though they both know bucky's the only one in the room who doesn't like being around people. he's not used to it, yes… and he hates it. all the voices, all the talking, all the bullshit. were people always so full of shit? or were they simply better in 1940?

giving himself some time, he brings that wine bottle to his lips and downs some of it, narrowing his eyes in a wince as if he's never tasted wine before. it's a pity that it tastes so sweet and won't do a damn thing to him. he misses the buzz of alcohol; the taste isn't the same without what comes after. ]

If you're talking about me, you've got it all wrong. I'm a social butterfly.

[ his wings are so bright you just can't see them. he didn't cower in the corner or smile uncomfortably at all tonight (although, he did; bucky's a horrible actor, always wanting to wear his heart and discomfort on his sleeve). pretending had been fun until he had to be someone he hasn't been in a long time. bucky from 1944 would've gladly flirted and romanced and made up some bullshit, sweeping story to make himself appear bigger than he was.

impulsively, he reaches out to fix the strap of her dress, letting his blunt nails graze her skin. it's a nice look, the casual off-the-shoulder, but since natasha won't let him open any doors for her, he has to find his gentlemanly fix another way. ]

I had everyone wrapped around my metal little finger.

[ he did... but not because he was a social butterfly. ]

[ as soon as he starts performing, her mouth pulls tight, resisting a smile. she’s content to wait until he has something to say for himself, mouthing a little oh when he lands on social butterfly. right, how could she have forgotten his talent for sparkling conversation and pleasantries with prospective enemies. nat exhales a huff of air that might have been a laugh, if she weren’t accustomed to keeping every reaction modulated.

unbidden, she thinks that rogers would have gotten a kick out of barnes being in his old dress shoes tonight. when bucky straightens her dress, her mouth quirks higher on both sides. they really don’t make ‘em like they used to, huh. ]

Or afraid they’d cut themselves on that jawline. [ delivering a kind of mr darcy experience: frowny and quiet and looking like he’d rather book it through the downpour outside. (hey, there’s an audience for it!) natasha catches his wrist before he pulls away, turning it over in her hands to unbutton the cuff and slowly push the sleeve up his arm. ]

You were… a little rusty, at first. [ a mild look — that her amusement fractures prematurely. ] But that’s to be expected for an old-timer.

[ she arcs her thumb over his pulse, evidence of the thank you that goes unsaid. by the end of the night, bucky had warmed up enough to play off her, if no one else, which counts for something. it was never his job to do the schmoozing, anyhow. a woman with a partner is both more desirable and less threatening. and if that partner can bounce bullets or break bones when pushed, well, they call that a backup plan in this business.

he found a suit, kept the tie straight for hours, and trailed her across the floor loyally — that’s what she wanted, what she needed. if a dual smarm and charm offensive was required, she’d have called rick, but there’s no-one else she would have brought home after the show. ]

[ his jaw is a jaw. that's what he feels tempted to say and he knows not to even bother. it goes in one ear and out the other, and if natasha's in a good, teasing mood, she'll rib him until he's combusted back into dust. sometimes, bucky enjoys the teasing even when he's huffing and puffing and threatening to leave while he remains slumped in place (and tries to hide his blush). she doesn't need to know that.

if she hadn't taken to rolling up his sleeve, he'd have hidden his face and readjusted himself on the couch to better hide away from her. all this talk about jaw cutting always gets him feeling antsy in a way that would have sam howling with laughter (and then reciting how his jaw can cut almost anything in half for a week). ]

Hey! [ his brows furrow together as his smile widens. ] I'm not that old.

[ just one hundred and six. that's pretty young! ]

You and Sam go to the same comedy club. He also likes to tell me how rusty I am. [ he wiggles his metal fingers so she can see just why sam would tease him about his rust. something about being the tinman, even though only a small portion of him is tin. one day, sam will understand bucky's not a cyborg—it doesn't make sense.

but he doesn't move his arm. he doesn't want to rip the sleeve, is all. ]

Shoot, [ faux surprised. ] I gotta get new material.

[ as if the romanoff and wilson double act doesn’t roast bucky with such regularity and precision, it’s a miracle he hasn’t been stained red permanently.

something in her chest swells, when he lets her keep his arm hostage. she takes it as an invitation to fold the fabric back at the elbow, so gravity doesn’t undo her hard work.

once satisfied, natasha releases him only to hold out her hands expectantly — accepting both the wine, which she swigs and sets on the floor, then his other hand, which gets the same careful treatment. he hid himself all night for her, didn’t he? only fair that he can revert back to himself in this space, since he seems to have a better idea of who bucky barnes is since she left. maybe since she came back, too.

her expression shifts, sharpening in the low lamplight, so she can study his reaction while letting him know that’s exactly what she’s doing. can’t turn that part of her brain off. doesn’t want to. a delicate balance, one she miscalculated years ago, the last time she’d tried for closeness of a specific, elusive kind, with banner. that moment passed, but this one keeps flickering in front of her: barnes came back to find her on vormir. keeps coming back, present tense, when she calls. sometimes, when she doesn’t. whenever yelena isn’t there in his stead, actually, as if they’re both working the same op. ]

[ her voice drops, slow and even. ] Ever hear the one about the girl, who wants to thank some guy, [ blowing out an exhale. ] for helping her out when he didn’t have to — [ her lashes lower, ostensibly focused on the delicate task of turning back his sleeve without catching the fabric on his metal arm. ] — but doesn’t know how to do it without making a joke?

[ her eyes lift to find his, and she lets her features loosen. see, natasha is trying out this new thing, where instead of waiting for someone to almost die, or for the point where she’s sacrificing herself, cast over that jutting ledge into dark, darker, darkest — she shows the people who matter that she cares, with her words and actions beyond teasing. it might be too late to be that clear with rogers and stark, but if anyone knew how much she loved her chosen family, they did.

and there are a lot of good people left in her corner. the widow programme isn’t bucky’s past, his fight, his sisters, so his help tonight is significant, in some way. she just needs to decide if (and how) that changes their routine. ]

[ he watches her take to rolling up his sleeves. he has half a mind to tell her he can do that, but his work would be half-assed, poorly done, and the fabric would be rolling down his forearm in no time. besides... he likes the fact she wants to touch him.

bucky keeps his left arm purposefully still. even after the short time he's spent with his mind as his own and that arm weighing like a feather, he still ensures to focus on it and keep it very, very still if someone else so much as touches it. the vibranium arm isn't anything like the hydra metal arm with its lightness, intricate patterns, and even the way it simply sits against his shoulder like it's an extension of himself, but he still worries. there's bound to be a lingering piece of the soldier in him. good things don't come to those who leave a trail of red and kill their friends unblinkingly.

he trusts this arm implicitly, but he's a paranoid old man. how can he trust his mind to be completely free when he's spent more time being under mind control than he has at the wheel?

scrunching up his face, he narrows his eyes thoughtfully as he finally looks up at her. he shakes his head. ] No. You might have to tell me that one.

[ he smiles, shaking his head. ever since his mind's been clear and he can do whatever the hell he likes, he's gone back to being a pain in the ass (with a select few people, of course; for anyone else, he's grumpy, starey, and generally unpleasant to be around). it feels like a pair of old shoes that he'd tucked newspaper inside of. being his old self feels good. ]

[ natasha knows what it means, that bucky lets her touch the metal even as he stills, tension visible in the corded muscle of his other arm. they’ve both been weapons as much as they’ve been people. maybe more, in terms of years, the depth of the damage.

upon finishing her task, she lets their gathered hands fall into her lap, not quite holding his. resting over it, maybe. if he snapped, she would have the better position to block and counter, even with his strength advantage. and if pushed, she could shatter the bottle against his neck in seconds or retrieve the blaze in her thigh holster. no guarantee he’d give her that long with those super-soldier reflexes. a well-aimed blow to the gut could leave her gasping, vulnerable. regardless, she’d ruin a perfectly good sofa. those scenarios play out in her mind (alongside several other permutations of the next few minutes). it’d be easy enough to steer her sincerity back into the realm of levity.

she rolls her shoulders back, straightening up in the style of an actress preparing for a monologue. clears her throat, for good measure. an act within an act. ]

Thank you, James Buchanan Barnes, for coming tonight. [ like a vow. as she continues, she tips her head this way and that. ] And the other night — and last week — two Fridays before that, which you should thank me for, honestly [ he had fun. ] — and, uh, the first time. [ on vormir. she holds his gaze until he understands her meaning. then, her nose wrinkles. ] I guess it isn’t as funny when I tell it.

[ with shield and the red room, there were jobs in which the brief would contain, no extraction possible, meaning that if she failed, she was on her own. you best hope you died, on a job like that, rather than face the alternative.

although the avengers have always worked differently, vormir had felt like a dead-end job. final, whether anyone wanted to find her or not. ]

[ he mouths "oh my god" and does his best not to pull his hand from her lap to cup his cheeks so that she can't see that his face is going red. blushing used to be so much harder back when he wasn't on his way to being a cyborg. he had more confidence back then, perhaps an arrogance that made him feel impenetrable when someone was teasing him. he's softer these days.

bucky doesn't take his hand away from her lap; he's grateful she doesn't point to it. there'd be a lack of a good reason why his hand lingers there, other than the fact that he could play up the heaviness of his metal arm. sometimes, people believed his bullshit stories of it being heavy. (people believe anything.) ]

You were pretty good at the start until you full named me. [ so, for two words.

he smiles, glancing away for a moment. vormir isn't a big deal. he just did what the rest of them felt too depressed and hollow to do. if steve could go back in time, return all the stones, return the soul stone, and find his happily ever after with peggy while leaving him behind, bucky could do what everyone thought was the unthinkable. after all, the soul stone owed them back a soul.

simple math, you know. the lord of the rings would totally back him up. ]

I don't regret the first time. Even though you make horrible, horrible jokes and have a horrible delivery… [ he bites on his bottom lip and shakes his head. ] I regret the two Fridays ago because I lost a good pair of boots, but that… [ he exhales through his nose and gives a shrug. he doesn't regret that possibly one-way trip at all.

just in case she doesn't know. ]

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💕📸 ｐｒｏｍｐｔｓ!

assumed works for me!

bw spoilers bc i see you have seen it! lmk if this doesn't work ❤️

this is perfect!! lmk if you have any edits as well ❤️

it is perfect!! ❤️

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