[for Natasha]

[onlyapassenger]

He can't sleep. This isn't, in itself, that unusual. Hell, given the amount of time he and Jason actually spend in their house, it's a wonder they have one at all, their nights generally spent elsewhere (and in fairer company than each other). That Bucky's once again found himself sitting crouched in Natasha's window is little more than a bad habit, the only thing speaking to some deeper trouble being his timing and his attire. On a normal night, he might show up in pajamas and combat boots, minimally armed, with his hair already mussed from an attempt at rest that he knew would surely allude him.

Tonight, though, he's dressed in uniform, the shield strapped to his back. Backlit by the moon, the figure he cuts is more imposing than playful, a pronounced tension in the set of his shoulders. His timing leaves something to be desired, as well; it's much later than he usually shows up, and it's clear from the flush in his cheeks that he's been outside for some time, though his purpose doesn't immediately present itself.

Eyes falling on Natasha, he allows himself a small, tired smile, even as a sigh that speaks to weeks of unneeded stress escapes his lips. His fingers itch to reach out for her, but he performs the courtesy of toeing off his boots before he goes any further into the room, pulling down his cowl as he begins to undress. His heart feels tight in his chest.

"Sorry I'm late," he murmurs, slipping into Russian for no other reason than wanting the reminder of something that was uniquely theirs. (His sweep of the perimeter was clean; there's no one listening in -- he's not being paranoid, though life has given him every reason.) "Needed some air."

Comments

[widowskiss.livejournal.com]

It's true that James is many things to Steve, not least of which is beloved to the point of contingency, but she does not like to think of him in those terms. Neither is Natalia much compelled to think of anything at the moment that does not involve seeking out Stark and terrorizing him to the limits of his sanity.

"What noise?"

[onlyapassenger]

"The... How'd Steve put it," says Bucky, annoyance creeping into his tone, and he eyes the bottle on the table, suddenly thinking he'd rather just take another swallow of vodka and get the both of them back into bed than continue further with this conversation, but knowing he's said too much to back out now.

"'Wrong quip.' There's no noise -- not yet, not that I know of -- but that's what he's waiting for. Given that I doubt I so much as register on Stark's radar, though, my guess is that Steve'll be waiting a while."

[widowskiss.livejournal.com]

"You are telling me," says Natalia with a deep breath, "that Steve is waiting for an excuse to punch Tony, and that he means it to be you."

Laying her head against his shoulder, she breathes out a curse that suggest acts of great physical improbability, the depth of which would be lost in translation back to English. "I take it back. A fistfight would do them both some good."

[onlyapassenger]

Bucky smiles, just a bit; Natasha's creativity is just one of the many things he loves about her, but in this instance, it's easily his favorite. There's some comfort, though, in knowing he's not alone in thinking that Steve and Stark ought to just go a round, and be done with it, that he's not speaking out of bias alone.

"My thoughts exactly."

[widowskiss.livejournal.com]

Despite her better efforts, Natalia feels some of her ire drain away at that hint of a smile. "Perhaps we will lock them in a room together," she says. "For the good of all. They will...probably survive it."

[onlyapassenger]

"Yeah," Bucky replies on the edge of laugh, head tipping back to look up at the dark ceiling. "Maybe if Stark suits up first."