onlyapassenger: (ss :: shut down)
[personal profile] 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."

Date: 2011-10-21 02:10 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] widowskiss.livejournal.com
"James," breathes Natalia, too throaty to be a sigh, but only just. Placing the bottle on the table, she lifts her hands to his face, fingers loosely framing his too tight jaw. "Will you tell me?" she asks, thumbs sweeping over his skin, rubbing at the creases the cowl has left behind. "You've been so troubled, surely I could not make it worse."

Date: 2011-10-21 06:16 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] widowskiss.livejournal.com
Natalia's smile is almost sad. "It is a long time to be in one place. Unusual for our kind." In the weeks following their reunion, she'd been quick to learn what soothed him, though it'd taken her a month to trust the effect was real. Such were their lives at home, and at times, it feels no better here, the dangers fewer, but the reasons a man might posture just as great.

Natalia returns her fingers to his hair, stroking it, as much to comfort herself as the man beneath her. "We will take them in turns. I can...dissuade the children, if you like." That much is easy. "And Tony..." The expression she wears then is decidedly sad, and takes longer than Natalia would like to remove. "I do not believe that man can be forced to see reason in any universe. I only hope that it will come to him in his own time. And Steve..." Natalia is not ashamed to admit, at times that man is her last hope, James' loyalty to him immovable. If there is tension there, she could almost despair for how to mend it. "Tell me, what does he do?"

Date: 2011-10-22 02:47 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] widowskiss.livejournal.com
Natalia has fought with Steve for many years now, never more closely than when she joined his secret team. She knows him well, knows that he is the best kind of leader, both level-headed and without fear. He does not balk from danger, neither does he court it. He waits. He plans. He thinks things through, and he protects his own. In battle, she would follow him anywhere. But here, in matters between close friends, particularly those with as long and complicated a history as he and James, Natalia finds herself uncertain how to proceed. It is not a feeling she enjoys, and not for the first time, she finds herself wishing that Sharon were here.

"Waiting on Tony?" she asks, short nails skimming along James' scalp. "To become the man we used to know? Or something else?"

Date: 2011-10-24 03:11 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] widowskiss.livejournal.com
Natalia cannot help the sigh that escapes her. "Why do men," she says, still carding her fingers through his hair, "always see that as the first resort, rather than the last? And when Steve is done waiting, what then? What sin of Tony's will be too great to ignore?"

Date: 2011-10-24 05:00 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] 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?"

Date: 2011-11-03 06:07 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] 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."

Date: 2011-11-06 12:14 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] 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."

about

James Buchanan Barnes, also known as, Bucky, Winter Soldier, and most recently, Captain America, is among Marvel Comics' first characters. Created by Joe Simon and Jack Kirby in 1941, Bucky first debuted in Captain America Comics #1 under Marvel's 1940s predecessor, Timely Comics.

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