ever marching as to war

Bucky coughs out a surprised laugh, letting his forehead fall to rest against Natasha's instead of going for the kiss he planned before the interruptions. He supposes he ought to feel a little mortified, but the emotion, if it even qualifies as one, barely registers, Natasha far too warm underneath his hands for the distraction to prove sufficient.

"Doesn't matter even if we didn't," he says, the words half lost against her mouth. "I've got my own way of doing things. Now, if I recall correctly..." He trails off, fingers climbing back up her thigh. "We were somewhere around here."