"What would I do without you?" Bucky asks, utterly guileless, and he gives her what he hopes is a dazzling smile. It's been a long week for everyone and he knows there's been times when he hasn't been at his best; he must have snapped at someone at least once even if his memory doesn't recall it right now.
"I'm looking forward to a night where I can actually...I don't know. Let go a little. Not too much, I don't want to make an ass of myself because I'm still representing the company, but drinking something stronger than apple juice is a rarity in my life."
His coffee is strong enough to walk off but champagne is a different kind of high. He touches his hand to Natalie's shoulder before they get into the car. She's so tiny, next to him, and his hand looks oversized against her delicate body.
"Flounder, most likely," she teased back with a soft little smirk. His own dazzling smile didn't go unnoticed, judging by the butterflies now flying laps in the pit of her stomach. To keep her cool facade, Natalia gave her curls a tiny toss, quipping, "But you have me, so let's get going, yes?"
But his commentary about drinking something stronger than apple juice made her giggle; apple juice was Becca-Bug's absolutely favorite. "Don't worry, Mr. Barnes," the redhead assured him, lifting her hand to cover his where it rested on her shoulder. "I'll take care of you tonight. Go ahead and have a good time."
Hogan then ushered them both into the car, and Natalia slid in first, scooting over to give her large boss enough room. The drive was thankfully short, and they were gliding up to the curb at The Grand Hotel in less than twenty minutes.
Natalia waited while Barnes checked them in, and reported as they headed to the elevator, "Your suit has already been delivered." A thin line of annoyance crimped her brow and her lips thinned as she added, "I wish you'd have at least tried it on before tonight, so it's not my fault if it's too tight. You'll...just have to hold your breath."
"I don't know if I told you or not," Bucky says, laughing at the way her face is crimped at the idea of his suit not fitting and he knows his shoulders are broad as a linebacker's (makes sense, sense he was one).
"But you can call me James. Or Bucky. You don't have to call me Mr. Barnes if we're on a date and I think this is a date even if it is work-adjacent. So I don't mind if you leave the formality aside, Natalie, I really don't."
He pairs it with a grin, hoping to ease the tension for himself.
"It's not funny," she told him tartly, pushing the button for the seventh floor. "It's not my fault if you rip a seam or lose a button tonight, sir." The offer to use his first name took her a little aback, however, and Natalia felt herself stumble over her tongue just a moment.
"...J-James, then." It sounded much nicer, more elegant, than Bucky. --even if Tony Stark did singsong the nickname every time he popped up on the Development floor, headed to his top engineer's office.
Then her eyebrow went up. "This is a date?" She vented a soft snort. "I thought we were just putting on a good show for the investors and being decorative until they were all drunk enough to see double."
"Well, it's a date," Bucky says cautiously. "I wouldn't want you to think it isn't. Maybe I'm not...let's just say that if you weren't under me I would have considered this a date and would have already asked you on one."
It isn't something he should be telling her but he does anyway, wanting to make sure she knows that he feels something for her even if it's a bad idea to pursue it with their positions.
It was simply too much of an open door for her to just ignore it. "But you like having me under you, right?" And her lips curved in a siren's sly little smirk, just as the elevator dinged and the doors slid open. "I'm not at all uncomfortable...James. Quite the opposite, in point of fact."
That said, she patted his arm lightly and stepped into the hallway, her high heels making little noise on the thick carpet. "What's the room number?" She knew, but he had the card key, and somehow, all of this was making the tension between them, typically thrumming at a low, easy volume, begin to increase exponentially.
Bucky sputters for a moment, not sure that those words had come out of the mouth of his secretary, and it takes his brain a little while to catch up to what she's asked him. Oh, right, the room number. He fishes out one of his keycards and hands it to her.
"It's 1090," he manages, still watching her with a little bit of shock. Is that...all right. Well, she hadn't slapped him at least. She'd encouraged him if anything.
"Is this...what are we doing? You don't feel pressured into this?"
"You just said this was a date," Natalia pointed out easily, taking the card key and progressing on down the hall. "And that you wanted to drink something stronger than apple juice, right?" Finding the door, she inserted the card, waited until the lock flashed green, then pressed the handle and it opened easily.
"So let go a little, hm? And no, I don't feel pressured. You asked, you didn't threaten my job if I said no, and we more or less get along with each other. So," she shrugged, "let's just enjoy tonight, da?" The redhead stepped further into the suite, flipped on the lights, and placed her overcoat and satchel on the nearby sideboard.
"I'll cede you the bathroom first, since it'll take me a bit to get ready."
"Da? Are we Russian now?" Bucky asks, laughing as he makes his way to the bathroom with his carefully-made suit. He does hope it fits properly since he hadn't been the best of dates and let Natalie measure him for it; she deserves to be with someone who is going to be dressed properly for the occasion.
"I'll be out in a minute." The suit is all right, even if it is a little tight across the shoulders, and it's nothing that Bucky thinks is going to be noticeable by anyone but him. He pairs it with diamond cufflinks and a little cologne before taming his hair down with a little gel just so it isn't everywhere.
"All yours now," he says, coming out and back into the main room of the suite. "I'm officially ready."
"I happen to speak several languages," Natalia told him a bit loftily, turning on a few more lamps throughout the suite. "Russian is just one of my favorites." All right, so that lie wasn't too large, but it was as good an excuse as any.
She busied herself setting out her paraphernalia while her boss changed; makeup bag, shoes, clutch, jewelry, and thought about unzipping her dress bag, but opted against it. Less to carry into the bathroom, when it was finally her turn.
And when the door opened, she at least had enough time to brace herself before she turned around, automatically biting the inside of her cheek at what walked out of that door. God. She'd been absolutely right; that dark grey suit set off those blue eyes and dark hair like beacons, and Bucky was tanned just enough to keep from looking washed out and pale. Natalia gave herself props for the suit's fit - it wasn't too small, after all.
She crossed her arms, nibbled on her lower lip some more, and slowly lifted her eyebrows. "...you look...devastatingly handsome, James. Sir." He was going to get mobbed, tonight. Gathering up her things, Natalia gave him a brief smile. "I'll...try not to take too long."
Pink flags his cheeks for a moment at being called devastatingly handsome by a woman that he's had a crush on for a while. Crush is probably juvenile but it's the only word he has for how his breath catches and his heart races when she's near him. It's stupid to fall for anyone when he has Becca to worry about but he has fallen a little for Natalie Rushman.
He sits in one of the chairs in the sitting room of the suite and looks at his phone; he checks in with Becca's babysitter and exchanges a few texts and flips through a few work emails. They've been neck deep in projects all week and email has backed up as a result. Nothing is on fire, though, and the most urgent things are handled with a quick reply.
He's eager to see what Natalie's picked out for the Gala. It's work adjacent, sure, but it's also a date as far as Bucky's concerned. He wants it to be a date, anyway, and he hopes she wants the same thing.
Practice made perfect, or so the saying went. She'd altered her appearance enough that it was rote by now, but tonight was simply about dressing up enough to sparkle, not to shine. The dress she'd bought was lovely, yards of ombre midnight blue silk fading into cerulean in a pool about her feet, just enough gemstones across the bodice and single shoulder strap to catch the light. Diamonds in her ears, a matching necklace around her throat, and deep scarlet curls artfully arranged in a "pinup" style to cascade over her pale bare shoulder.
Red lips, pale skin, and the dress brought out the flecks of indigo deep in cat-green eyes, and only half an hour after she'd slipped into the bathroom, Natalia was ready. She gazed at herself in the mirror, steeling her nerves, then slipped on her shoes, sensible enough for dancing but more than elegant enough.
A date. With her boss. The father of her child. God. Surely this was insanity, but why not? He was sweet, kind, an absolutely wonderful father, and magnificently gorgeous, to boot. Even though she knew it'd be stupid to let herself fall, even a little, Natalia thought that she might, she might, be able to slide at least halfway over that cliff before she caught herself. Well, here's hoping.
Soft smile on her lips, she touched perfume to her wrists and the soft skin beneath her ears, capped the bottle, then opened the bathroom door. "All done. Are we ready?"
Bucky stares at her for a long moment, utterly stunned. While he's known that Natalie is beautiful, he's never seen her like this before and he's half tempted to ask if she wants to skip the gala and just stay in the suite with a bottle of champagne. It's highly inappropriate though and dangerous, considering how much he wants her.
And oh, but he wants. He's wanted for a long time but not as much as he does now. He crosses over to her and touches her bare shoulder, trailing his fingertip along the length of her arm before pulling it away.
"This? This is a good dress," he says. It's stupid but it's the only thing he can think of. "You look beautiful."
She honest-go-God blushed. Natalia felt heat flooding her cheeks, inexplicably, and she lowered her lashes, dropping her gaze, wondering why that simple compliment sent heat coursing beneath her skin. And the gentle touch of that single fingertip left gooseflesh in its wake, and she had the sudden urge to run out of this hotel and never look back.
Dangerous, oh yes. And beyond that.
Somehow, she managed to untangle her tongue enough to reply in a girlish voice, "...thank you." She smoothed the material down over her front. "I thought it would go well with your suit, since we're...going together."
Natalia lifted her eyes, and, unable to help herself, gently adjusted the lapels of James's jacket, resolutely pulling her hands away to keep from sliding them beneath it, just to feel the swell of that defined chest beneath the fine fabric. On cue, her phone chimed, a reminder set for the Gala's starting.
"No sirs," Bucky gently reminds her. "I'm James, remember? This is a date and I'm not having my dates call me sir. That's a whole box of issues that I don't even care to open or address. It's not my cup of tea and I just...I haven't been on a date in a while. Can we pretend?"
Maybe it's too much to ask from her but he wants it to be a real date and not a contrived one. He's lonely and, more than that, he feels a connection with her unlike anything he's had in a long, long time.
It doesn't hurt that Becca adores Natalie.
"If that's not comfortable for you, I'll back off, but I don't get a lot of time to date. It'd be nice to have one."
"I know, I know, I'm sorry. Force of habit." She reached for James's hands, lacing her fingers with his. "I don't get a lot of time to date either, so we're both out of practice." She let herself drift close, close enough to smell the cologne warmed by his skin, and it flooded her senses, sending even more heat spiraling through her.
"It's fine, James. Promise. This can be our date, just yours and mine." Releasing one of his hands to pick up her clutch, Natalia gave him a little tug towards the door. "But we better get going, if we want to get started on it." Fashionably late only went so far.
Once they get to the Gala proper, there's plenty of people to see and plenty of things stronger than apple juice. Bucky opts for champagne and he nabs two flutes of it from a traveling waiter, offering one to Natalie as soon as he gets a chance.
"Better get it before it's gone," he teases, tipping his glass back and letting the alcohol tip down his throat. "I'll need a little if you intend to get me to dance. It's been so long since I've had a dance partner that I'll probably make you look bad out there."
He flashes her a brilliant grin, though, hoping she'll forgive him for any future dancing mishaps.
The champaghe was delicious, cold and crisp on her tongue, and she took a long sip in turn, smiling indulgently at her "date" as he endeavored to unwind a little. She didn't blame him in the slightest. But as soon as word traveled through the crowd that James Barnes had arrived, he did indeed get mobbed, just as she'd predicted, by well-wishers, investors, do-gooders, other high powered executives, and finally Tony Stark himself, sailing through the hoard with Pepper in tow.
"Buuuuckyyyyy!" Stark caroled, "just the man I wanna see. How're you? You look great. Where's your date? Oh, Natalie came with you? Smashing. God, she looks gorgeous, you dog you. But seriously. Marry that girl, Barnes, you know she's the best thing that's ever happened to you. Because if you don't, I might, hear me? Babe, what, don't look at me like that, I'm just sayin'..." And on and on he sailed, all but dragging his top engineer through the ballroom, leaving Natalia and Pepper to follow on a little more sedately.
"Just ignore him, Miss Rushman," Pepper smiled, nodding at a few acquaintances. "You know how he is." Natalia laughed, shaking her head lightly. "Oh, I do, Miss Potts. Don't worry, I know he doesn't mean anything by it."
Bucky wants to duck and hide when Stark finds him but really, there's no avoiding him here. He'd think that Tony had already been in the champagne except this is perfectly sober behavior, honestly, and being dragged out onto the dance floor is nothing new. Bucky follows, looking over his shoulder at Pepper and Natalie, and gives him a helpless smile.
"Are you planning to steal me as your date?" Bucky asks. Stark roars laughing at that and makes an attempt to spin him around the floor before delivering him back to Natalie.
"Nah. I'm not nearly the eye candy she is. Hey! That hurt, you know," he cries out, clearly in response to a pinch from Pepper, and Bucky doesn't bother stifling his laugh. He takes Natalie's hand in his own.
"Do you want to dance? We're here and all and otherwise I'll get all embarrassed."
"Sure, I'd love to." They might as well, considering they were already on the dance floor and the orchestra was just starting a nice, slow waltz. Leaving her clutch on their table, Natalia smoothed out her dress and took James' offered hand, letting him position them both with her hand in his and the other resting lightly on his shoulder.
"It's been a while since I've waltzed," she warned him, glancing briefly at their feet. "High school prom, in fact." She wanted to make him feel less self-conscious about his own too-long drought. "So apologies in advance if I spoil the shine on your shoes, James."
"When do you think was the last time I did it? Wedding," Bucky points out, easing her into the steps. He's always been a good dancer, though, and his muscle memory hasn't forgotten the steps. It's nice to hold someone like this and just be together. It's been so long for him that he's forgotten what it feels like.
"You're not bad at it, though. You're pretty enough that if you stepped on my feet I would probably let it slide." He pairs that with a soft laugh and eases his palm under her hair and lets long fingers splay against the back of her neck. "And you look like a queen, not a princess. Previous estimations were undershot."
"Becca-Bug is your princess," Natalia reminded him lightly, but her lashes drifted gently closed when she felt calloused fingertips smoothing over her skin. Somehow, they moved over the floor effortlessly, never missing a step. James Barnes was a natural, if quiet, leader, and it was instinct to let him lead her through the dance, oddly feeling more at ease right here than she ever had anywhere else.
The hand at his shoulder involuntarily moved to curl around his neck, her fingers incidentally toying with the sable strands brushing along his collar. "...but I'm glad you think so. I don't really have occasion to get dressed up like this very often. So, thank you, for asking me."
"Thank you for saying yes," Bucky says softly, sad when the waltz ends and gets replaced by something a little faster. He could have gone for that waltz all night. Well, he doesn't have a curfew and neither does Natalie so there will be plenty of waltzes to come if he just bides his time. For now, they can sip champagne and talk.
"It doesn't feel awkward," he admits. "I thought it might, since you work for me, but it feels like any date I've ever had. Any good date I've ever had. Thanks for that." His cheeks color a little and he laughs into his wineglass.
"I haven't had any dates in a while. It's nice. I should do it more often."
"Yes, you should." But she knew he likely wouldn't; there were too many other priorities in his life. Which was fine with her, because the addition of another woman in their...weird little relationship didn't sit too well.
As the music picked up, they found themselves back at their table, sipping champagne, and of course the inevitability of work intruded in the guise of investors wanting "just a few minutes" of the brilliant engineer's time, so Natalia was left to sit and watch the gala go by, more than content to be left in the background.
Until a semi-familiar figure appeared at her elbow, smiling and bowing a little. "Evening, Miss Rushman," Martin Cavanaugh said, gazing at her. "Wow, you look...beautiful." She exchanged greetings; Cavanaugh didn't clean up too bad, either. "Would you maybe wanna dance?" he offered, a little hopeful, a little starry-eyed.
Well, James was busy with three of Stark Enterprises top investors, no doubt talking shop, and this probably wouldn't take too long, so she told him yes, and headed back out to the dance floor.
Bucky sees Natalie get whisked off by Cavanaugh and wraps up his conversation with the investors as politely as he can. He imagines they're through a dance and a half when he taps the other man on the shoulder and asks "if I can take my date back, please?" Cavanaugh yields and Bucky pulls Natalie a little closer than he'd done earlier. He's also had more champagne than earlier.
"Do you like him? Cavanaugh? Shit. That's probably something I shouldn't ask you," Bucky says. He's not dancing so much as holding her right now and he hopes Natalie only likes the other man in a polite sort of way and not as dating material. He's jealous over her, he realizes, and if he feels jealous then he ought to be honest about why he feels that way both to himself and to her. He owes it to them both.
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"I'm looking forward to a night where I can actually...I don't know. Let go a little. Not too much, I don't want to make an ass of myself because I'm still representing the company, but drinking something stronger than apple juice is a rarity in my life."
His coffee is strong enough to walk off but champagne is a different kind of high. He touches his hand to Natalie's shoulder before they get into the car. She's so tiny, next to him, and his hand looks oversized against her delicate body.
"Thank you. Again. For everything you do."
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But his commentary about drinking something stronger than apple juice made her giggle; apple juice was Becca-Bug's absolutely favorite. "Don't worry, Mr. Barnes," the redhead assured him, lifting her hand to cover his where it rested on her shoulder. "I'll take care of you tonight. Go ahead and have a good time."
Hogan then ushered them both into the car, and Natalia slid in first, scooting over to give her large boss enough room. The drive was thankfully short, and they were gliding up to the curb at The Grand Hotel in less than twenty minutes.
Natalia waited while Barnes checked them in, and reported as they headed to the elevator, "Your suit has already been delivered." A thin line of annoyance crimped her brow and her lips thinned as she added, "I wish you'd have at least tried it on before tonight, so it's not my fault if it's too tight. You'll...just have to hold your breath."
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"But you can call me James. Or Bucky. You don't have to call me Mr. Barnes if we're on a date and I think this is a date even if it is work-adjacent. So I don't mind if you leave the formality aside, Natalie, I really don't."
He pairs it with a grin, hoping to ease the tension for himself.
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"...J-James, then." It sounded much nicer, more elegant, than Bucky. --even if Tony Stark did singsong the nickname every time he popped up on the Development floor, headed to his top engineer's office.
Then her eyebrow went up. "This is a date?" She vented a soft snort. "I thought we were just putting on a good show for the investors and being decorative until they were all drunk enough to see double."
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It isn't something he should be telling her but he does anyway, wanting to make sure she knows that he feels something for her even if it's a bad idea to pursue it with their positions.
"I hope that doesn't make you uncomfortable."
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That said, she patted his arm lightly and stepped into the hallway, her high heels making little noise on the thick carpet. "What's the room number?" She knew, but he had the card key, and somehow, all of this was making the tension between them, typically thrumming at a low, easy volume, begin to increase exponentially.
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"It's 1090," he manages, still watching her with a little bit of shock. Is that...all right. Well, she hadn't slapped him at least. She'd encouraged him if anything.
"Is this...what are we doing? You don't feel pressured into this?"
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"So let go a little, hm? And no, I don't feel pressured. You asked, you didn't threaten my job if I said no, and we more or less get along with each other. So," she shrugged, "let's just enjoy tonight, da?" The redhead stepped further into the suite, flipped on the lights, and placed her overcoat and satchel on the nearby sideboard.
"I'll cede you the bathroom first, since it'll take me a bit to get ready."
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"I'll be out in a minute." The suit is all right, even if it is a little tight across the shoulders, and it's nothing that Bucky thinks is going to be noticeable by anyone but him. He pairs it with diamond cufflinks and a little cologne before taming his hair down with a little gel just so it isn't everywhere.
"All yours now," he says, coming out and back into the main room of the suite. "I'm officially ready."
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She busied herself setting out her paraphernalia while her boss changed; makeup bag, shoes, clutch, jewelry, and thought about unzipping her dress bag, but opted against it. Less to carry into the bathroom, when it was finally her turn.
And when the door opened, she at least had enough time to brace herself before she turned around, automatically biting the inside of her cheek at what walked out of that door. God. She'd been absolutely right; that dark grey suit set off those blue eyes and dark hair like beacons, and Bucky was tanned just enough to keep from looking washed out and pale. Natalia gave herself props for the suit's fit - it wasn't too small, after all.
She crossed her arms, nibbled on her lower lip some more, and slowly lifted her eyebrows. "...you look...devastatingly handsome, James. Sir." He was going to get mobbed, tonight. Gathering up her things, Natalia gave him a brief smile. "I'll...try not to take too long."
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He sits in one of the chairs in the sitting room of the suite and looks at his phone; he checks in with Becca's babysitter and exchanges a few texts and flips through a few work emails. They've been neck deep in projects all week and email has backed up as a result. Nothing is on fire, though, and the most urgent things are handled with a quick reply.
He's eager to see what Natalie's picked out for the Gala. It's work adjacent, sure, but it's also a date as far as Bucky's concerned. He wants it to be a date, anyway, and he hopes she wants the same thing.
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Red lips, pale skin, and the dress brought out the flecks of indigo deep in cat-green eyes, and only half an hour after she'd slipped into the bathroom, Natalia was ready. She gazed at herself in the mirror, steeling her nerves, then slipped on her shoes, sensible enough for dancing but more than elegant enough.
A date. With her boss. The father of her child. God. Surely this was insanity, but why not? He was sweet, kind, an absolutely wonderful father, and magnificently gorgeous, to boot. Even though she knew it'd be stupid to let herself fall, even a little, Natalia thought that she might, she might, be able to slide at least halfway over that cliff before she caught herself. Well, here's hoping.
Soft smile on her lips, she touched perfume to her wrists and the soft skin beneath her ears, capped the bottle, then opened the bathroom door. "All done. Are we ready?"
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And oh, but he wants. He's wanted for a long time but not as much as he does now. He crosses over to her and touches her bare shoulder, trailing his fingertip along the length of her arm before pulling it away.
"This? This is a good dress," he says. It's stupid but it's the only thing he can think of. "You look beautiful."
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Dangerous, oh yes. And beyond that.
Somehow, she managed to untangle her tongue enough to reply in a girlish voice, "...thank you." She smoothed the material down over her front. "I thought it would go well with your suit, since we're...going together."
Natalia lifted her eyes, and, unable to help herself, gently adjusted the lapels of James's jacket, resolutely pulling her hands away to keep from sliding them beneath it, just to feel the swell of that defined chest beneath the fine fabric. On cue, her phone chimed, a reminder set for the Gala's starting.
"We should...probably get going. Sir."
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Maybe it's too much to ask from her but he wants it to be a real date and not a contrived one. He's lonely and, more than that, he feels a connection with her unlike anything he's had in a long, long time.
It doesn't hurt that Becca adores Natalie.
"If that's not comfortable for you, I'll back off, but I don't get a lot of time to date. It'd be nice to have one."
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"It's fine, James. Promise. This can be our date, just yours and mine." Releasing one of his hands to pick up her clutch, Natalia gave him a little tug towards the door. "But we better get going, if we want to get started on it." Fashionably late only went so far.
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"Better get it before it's gone," he teases, tipping his glass back and letting the alcohol tip down his throat. "I'll need a little if you intend to get me to dance. It's been so long since I've had a dance partner that I'll probably make you look bad out there."
He flashes her a brilliant grin, though, hoping she'll forgive him for any future dancing mishaps.
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"Buuuuckyyyyy!" Stark caroled, "just the man I wanna see. How're you? You look great. Where's your date? Oh, Natalie came with you? Smashing. God, she looks gorgeous, you dog you. But seriously. Marry that girl, Barnes, you know she's the best thing that's ever happened to you. Because if you don't, I might, hear me? Babe, what, don't look at me like that, I'm just sayin'..." And on and on he sailed, all but dragging his top engineer through the ballroom, leaving Natalia and Pepper to follow on a little more sedately.
"Just ignore him, Miss Rushman," Pepper smiled, nodding at a few acquaintances. "You know how he is." Natalia laughed, shaking her head lightly. "Oh, I do, Miss Potts. Don't worry, I know he doesn't mean anything by it."
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"Are you planning to steal me as your date?" Bucky asks. Stark roars laughing at that and makes an attempt to spin him around the floor before delivering him back to Natalie.
"Nah. I'm not nearly the eye candy she is. Hey! That hurt, you know," he cries out, clearly in response to a pinch from Pepper, and Bucky doesn't bother stifling his laugh. He takes Natalie's hand in his own.
"Do you want to dance? We're here and all and otherwise I'll get all embarrassed."
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"It's been a while since I've waltzed," she warned him, glancing briefly at their feet. "High school prom, in fact." She wanted to make him feel less self-conscious about his own too-long drought. "So apologies in advance if I spoil the shine on your shoes, James."
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"You're not bad at it, though. You're pretty enough that if you stepped on my feet I would probably let it slide." He pairs that with a soft laugh and eases his palm under her hair and lets long fingers splay against the back of her neck. "And you look like a queen, not a princess. Previous estimations were undershot."
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The hand at his shoulder involuntarily moved to curl around his neck, her fingers incidentally toying with the sable strands brushing along his collar. "...but I'm glad you think so. I don't really have occasion to get dressed up like this very often. So, thank you, for asking me."
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"It doesn't feel awkward," he admits. "I thought it might, since you work for me, but it feels like any date I've ever had. Any good date I've ever had. Thanks for that." His cheeks color a little and he laughs into his wineglass.
"I haven't had any dates in a while. It's nice. I should do it more often."
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As the music picked up, they found themselves back at their table, sipping champagne, and of course the inevitability of work intruded in the guise of investors wanting "just a few minutes" of the brilliant engineer's time, so Natalia was left to sit and watch the gala go by, more than content to be left in the background.
Until a semi-familiar figure appeared at her elbow, smiling and bowing a little. "Evening, Miss Rushman," Martin Cavanaugh said, gazing at her. "Wow, you look...beautiful." She exchanged greetings; Cavanaugh didn't clean up too bad, either. "Would you maybe wanna dance?" he offered, a little hopeful, a little starry-eyed.
Well, James was busy with three of Stark Enterprises top investors, no doubt talking shop, and this probably wouldn't take too long, so she told him yes, and headed back out to the dance floor.
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"Do you like him? Cavanaugh? Shit. That's probably something I shouldn't ask you," Bucky says. He's not dancing so much as holding her right now and he hopes Natalie only likes the other man in a polite sort of way and not as dating material. He's jealous over her, he realizes, and if he feels jealous then he ought to be honest about why he feels that way both to himself and to her. He owes it to them both.
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