There was a small shaded spot behind the house that was perfect for her to do her workouts. It took her a little longer to navigate to it, but she had all the time in the world, at least. Or so she kept telling herself. Natasha gingerly placed her mat on the grass and began with a few knee bends and arm stretches, feeling the pull of her muscles, delicious from so long without any real exertion.
She smiled when Bucky emerged through the back door, and she held out her hands in response. "Sure. Just hold my hands steady so I don't topple over on my nose." Unworried about gripping both of her husband's hands in an equal clasp, the redhead used his arms to lean against as she bent over between them, grunting softly when her back pulled and flexed. She held it for as long as she could, then straightened, face flushed but eyes soft and bright.
"And now," she directed, letting go of his hands and taking a step back to lean against the wall of their house, "here, grab my ankle and slowly pull my leg up, like that." Her abdomen was still a good amount of sore, but she wanted to make sure all the muscles she could use were supple and flexible. "Bring it up to about waist-level...not too fast."
Bucky knows how to do stretches properly, having worked out with both Natasha and Steve before. He grabs her ankle when she asks and slowly pulls her leg up so he can help stretch her legs and lower back. He wants to be careful not to pull anything, yeah, but he trusts Natasha to let him know what's too much.
"I could rub you down if you wanted," Bucky says, dutifully keeping his grip on her so she doesn't fall. "After stretching everything, it might feel nice to get a rubdown and make sure all those muscles get worked out and back into shape. As long as you don't mind both hands, anyway."
He's still self conscious about the left, even if he has the prosthetic and Shuri's work is the best he could get. He can't imagine the metal feels good against skin, at all, and he wants Natasha to feel loved and pampered. Maybe he ought to just get a masseuse out here.
She switched one leg for the other, then went back around again. The burn was nice, meant she was doing things right. Even though it'd be a while before she felt ready to tackle another "world-saving problem", but Natasha honestly thought her days of that sort of thing were behind the both of them now. They had another, more important obligation to look after, after all.
"Ooh, I know it would," she agreed, gently taking her ankle out of his grip and lowering it to stand on both feet. Then immediately winding her arms around her husband's neck and pulling him down for a long, slow kiss. "You know I don't mind, James." She never had. But she understood his paranoia about the prosthetic, which was why she always made sure to treat it just like the other arm; no different.
Natasha leaned back enough to rub his nose with hers. "I don't want any other hands on me but yours, papa. Both of them."
The kiss is warm and sensual and all the things he really shouldn't be thinking about when he can't have sex with his wife and there's a sleeping baby inside the house. He's going to have to deal with this problem later, alone, and when the kiss ends he feels a little bereft.
When Natasha says she wants his hands on her, though, and doesn't care about the vibranium one, he tries to allow himself to think about touching her without always guarding his left away from her, always worrying it'll bruise pale, soft skin.
"You haven't," she shushed him. "And you won't." Natasha ran fingertips of her right hand down the smooth ridges of his left arm, it as familiar to her as his own flesh and blood limb. "I like it when you touch me with it," she assured him with a soft low giggle. "You know I do."
She took his left wrist and pulled that arm around her waist, fitting herself snugly in the crook of that elbow. "You hold Rebecca with it," Natasha pointed out. "You have more control over it than you believe you do, James." He was always second-guessing himself, but she understood why. And she'd always reassure him that he didn't have to live inside his own head, he didn't have to overthink every decision he made.
"C'mon. Let's go take a bath, and then you can rub me all over, da?"
"You drive a hard bargain," Bucky says. With the baby asleep for the time being, though, he wants the chance to get in the bath with Natasha and just spend some time alone with his wife. It's not going to be sex, obviously, but there were ways to be physically affectionate that didn't involve sex at all and Bucky was just as interested in those as anything else.
When he gets inside, he runs the water for them and tips in a little of a floral-scented bath oil that he's seen Natasha use before. He's going to smell like he rolled in a meadow or something but he guesses she will probably appreciate the touch. He strips off his t-shirt and shucks his jeans before walking back out into the bedroom to call her in.
"Come on, kotyonok. Nice and hot, like you asked."
Natasha let Bucky go on into the bathroom and prepare the bathwater; she took her time easing out of her top and bottoms. It still twinged, this nice new scar on her lower belly. But the baby sleeping peacefully not too far away was worth it and more, so she gave her daughter a loving glance before gathering up her clothes and padding into the welcoming steam, holding on to her husband as he lowered the both of them into the sweetly-fragranted water.
"...this is nice," she remarked, leaning back against Bucky's broad chest comfortably. Natasha reached out and pulled both of his arms around her, soaking up his warmth and affection as they lounged in the tub. She rested her head against his jaw, holding his wrists to keep his embrace. "Spasibo, malyutka." Natasha reached up to press a kiss to his cheek. "...I love you so much, y'know."
It feels good to lay like this, Natasha in his arms, and the warm water seems to be lulling him into a calm he hadn't felt since before Natasha had even gotten pregnant. He's been on the precipice of change for so long that now that he's gone through it, his body doesn't know how to relax. Now he's finally getting that chance.
"Gonna miss you while you're off-limits, you know," Bucky says, a hint of a tease in his voice. "I'm used to getting you whenever I want you and now I've got to wait. It's gonna be interesting. Wouldn't trade the experience for anything else, though. Glad you gave me the chance to be a dad - the chance for us to be a family. I miss having a family."
She picked up a bath sponge, held it beneath the water, then brought it up to smooth over their entwined arms, the hot water soothing and comforting. But Natasha had to chuckle to his gentle teasing, flicking a bit of water back at him. "Believe me, I know." Her hormones were even more of a scramble now than they were when she'd first been pregnant. "The only thing keeping me from jumping your gorgeous bones right now is the fact that my stomach still hurts."
But she sighed sweet contentment and cuddled closer, still sponging hot water over them both. "But neither would I, honestly. I'm really glad that we are a family. It's...well, I've never really had one, not just for myself." Wet, warm fingertips ghosted over his cheek. "So, thank you for that."
"We're a family. We were before Rebecca," Bucky says, wanting to assure Natasha that he didn't think family just meant having children, "But now our family's grown in a way that we never thought we could have. We got back what was stolen from us against our will and it's the best revenge we could have ever gotten on them."
Bucky tries not to mention HYDRA these days or the KGB. He tries not to bring those ghosts back into their lives and he doesn't think about them nearly as much as he used to. The nightmares are less now that he has safety and security with Natasha and he hopes that someday, they'll go away entirely.
"Good thing you still think I'm gorgeous. It was me who made you go through all that pain," Bucky teases gently. "I had the easy part. We both got the fun part, though."
She laughed softly again and splashed him a little more seriously this time, but she didn't disagree any at all. Neither of them had had the chance to actually be people, and it was a miraculous chance they'd been given, this second and even third time. Natasha thanked a God she didn't entirely believe in any more for that, each and every day.
"And it'll be fun still, raising her together. I bet she ends up just like you, all ringlets and blue eyes and that amazingly charming smile, Sergeant Barnes. What do you think about that?" Because it was damned uncanny, just how much their daughter resembled her father. Even at this young age, there was so much of Bucky Barnes in that little girl that sometimes, looking at her, it took Natasha's breath away.
"I think I'm not letting her out of my sight until she's at least thirty," Bucky says. Right now, he means it. Rebecca is the absolute apple of his eye right now and if anyone or anything tried to take her from him, he'd rend heaven and earth to get her back.
"Then again, I only let you out of my sight because you know twelve ways to kill me with your thumbs," he says, reaching down and stroking the curve of her breast with his right hand.
This time, she laughed right out loud, water splashing where she dropped her hands in her amusement. Honestly. "I don't think you'll be able to keep her under lock and key for that long, Sarge," Natasha mused, picking up her husband's left hand in hers and bringing his knuckles to her lips for soft kisses. "But it'll be fun, watching you at least try."
She sighed a soft moan, however, when he stroked her breast; they still ached and yearned for his calloused touch. Damn that they couldn't do what they both wanted, and that was to devour each other, but waiting was necessary, and a slow burn could be well and good, she supposed.
"Thirteen," she corrected with a light, sweet sigh, shifting a little between Bucky's thighs. "Maybe fourteen if I'm wearing heels."
"Mm, yes, I forgot about the heels," Bucky says, thinking about Natasha in one of her glam little dresses, heels and stockings and the whole nine. They don't have a lot of reason to dress up these days and if they do, it's tac gear and not anything fancy. Maybe he needs to get an invitation to some state dinner with T'Challa so they have a chance to show off.
He keeps his fingertips light along the curve of her breast and prepares himself to pull them away if it's too much for her. He wants to be close but he doesn't want to drive her insane.
"Muscles loosening up any for you? Or do you still want me to rub you down when we get out of here?"
Natasha honestly didn't miss the ensembles anymore. She had other priorities now, and those she enjoyed very much. Granted, it was still nice to look at some of her old outfits and recall the few good memories that went with them, such as Sam trying on a pair of her five inch stilettos on a dare and falling down a flight of stairs while she laughed and Steve, snickering himself, hurried over to help him back on his feet. Sans the shoes, of course.
But Bucky's hands brought her out of that reverie in the past, and Natasha squirmed slightly, arching her back to invite more of his touch. "...feels good," she whispered, turning her head to kiss the ridge of his jaw. "It's a good ache, this time." A slight smile. "And yes, you're not getting out of that offer so easily, White Wolf."
"I wasn't trying to get out of it," Bucky protests. "I just don't know how much and what kind of touching you want right now. I've never been with a woman who's gone through a pregnancy. First time. Only woman."
There's a secret hope that it won't be the only pregnancy but he's been too afraid to ask if this had been a one time miracle or if the surgery had meant there was a chance for more children. The idea of having a little family to replace what they'd lost is appealing to him and unless the world really can't function without he or Natasha in the fight, he doesn't want to suit up again. He doesn't want his kids going through what Clint's wife and kids go through every time the Avengers call.
"Just trying to take care of my girl, that's all."
She splashed him again, feeling playful for the first time in ages. Pregnancy wasn't just hard on the body, it was hard on the spirit, too. "If you say so," she teased, reaching up and behind her to run her wet hands through Bucky's dark hair. Then she reached for the soap and the sponge once more, lathering up the loofah and swiping the suds over what of their skin she could reach.
"Well, this is the first time I've ever recuperated from a pregnancy, so we're both a little out of our depths, aren't we?" She lathered, rinsed, and repeated, swishing lightly in the cooling water. "But trust me, babe," she purred, nuzzling at his throat, "your hands are good." Natasha stretched in Bucky's arms, lifting her arms to wind them around his neck, tipping her head in silent invitation.
"You can even kiss me," she offered, "if you really want."
"You say it like I don't want to kiss you every hour of the day," Bucky says, leaning in so he can take that kiss he wants. It's primal and caveman of him but seeing how Rebecca's birth has changed Natasha's body turns him on in ways he's never been turned on before. The only thing he can do about it is kiss, though, so that's what he does.
He pours everything he has into the kiss, teeth tugging lightly at Natasha's lower lip and tongue sliding against hers. He wants to kiss her so thoroughly that she has something to hold on to in these weeks they can't be together and let her know that he wants her even though everything in her body must be haywire right now.
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She smiled when Bucky emerged through the back door, and she held out her hands in response. "Sure. Just hold my hands steady so I don't topple over on my nose." Unworried about gripping both of her husband's hands in an equal clasp, the redhead used his arms to lean against as she bent over between them, grunting softly when her back pulled and flexed. She held it for as long as she could, then straightened, face flushed but eyes soft and bright.
"And now," she directed, letting go of his hands and taking a step back to lean against the wall of their house, "here, grab my ankle and slowly pull my leg up, like that." Her abdomen was still a good amount of sore, but she wanted to make sure all the muscles she could use were supple and flexible. "Bring it up to about waist-level...not too fast."
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"I could rub you down if you wanted," Bucky says, dutifully keeping his grip on her so she doesn't fall. "After stretching everything, it might feel nice to get a rubdown and make sure all those muscles get worked out and back into shape. As long as you don't mind both hands, anyway."
He's still self conscious about the left, even if he has the prosthetic and Shuri's work is the best he could get. He can't imagine the metal feels good against skin, at all, and he wants Natasha to feel loved and pampered. Maybe he ought to just get a masseuse out here.
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"Ooh, I know it would," she agreed, gently taking her ankle out of his grip and lowering it to stand on both feet. Then immediately winding her arms around her husband's neck and pulling him down for a long, slow kiss. "You know I don't mind, James." She never had. But she understood his paranoia about the prosthetic, which was why she always made sure to treat it just like the other arm; no different.
Natasha leaned back enough to rub his nose with hers. "I don't want any other hands on me but yours, papa. Both of them."
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When Natasha says she wants his hands on her, though, and doesn't care about the vibranium one, he tries to allow himself to think about touching her without always guarding his left away from her, always worrying it'll bruise pale, soft skin.
"I don't want to hurt you with it, is all."
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She took his left wrist and pulled that arm around her waist, fitting herself snugly in the crook of that elbow. "You hold Rebecca with it," Natasha pointed out. "You have more control over it than you believe you do, James." He was always second-guessing himself, but she understood why. And she'd always reassure him that he didn't have to live inside his own head, he didn't have to overthink every decision he made.
"C'mon. Let's go take a bath, and then you can rub me all over, da?"
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When he gets inside, he runs the water for them and tips in a little of a floral-scented bath oil that he's seen Natasha use before. He's going to smell like he rolled in a meadow or something but he guesses she will probably appreciate the touch. He strips off his t-shirt and shucks his jeans before walking back out into the bedroom to call her in.
"Come on, kotyonok. Nice and hot, like you asked."
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"...this is nice," she remarked, leaning back against Bucky's broad chest comfortably. Natasha reached out and pulled both of his arms around her, soaking up his warmth and affection as they lounged in the tub. She rested her head against his jaw, holding his wrists to keep his embrace. "Spasibo, malyutka." Natasha reached up to press a kiss to his cheek. "...I love you so much, y'know."
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"Gonna miss you while you're off-limits, you know," Bucky says, a hint of a tease in his voice. "I'm used to getting you whenever I want you and now I've got to wait. It's gonna be interesting. Wouldn't trade the experience for anything else, though. Glad you gave me the chance to be a dad - the chance for us to be a family. I miss having a family."
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But she sighed sweet contentment and cuddled closer, still sponging hot water over them both. "But neither would I, honestly. I'm really glad that we are a family. It's...well, I've never really had one, not just for myself." Wet, warm fingertips ghosted over his cheek. "So, thank you for that."
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Bucky tries not to mention HYDRA these days or the KGB. He tries not to bring those ghosts back into their lives and he doesn't think about them nearly as much as he used to. The nightmares are less now that he has safety and security with Natasha and he hopes that someday, they'll go away entirely.
"Good thing you still think I'm gorgeous. It was me who made you go through all that pain," Bucky teases gently. "I had the easy part. We both got the fun part, though."
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"And it'll be fun still, raising her together. I bet she ends up just like you, all ringlets and blue eyes and that amazingly charming smile, Sergeant Barnes. What do you think about that?" Because it was damned uncanny, just how much their daughter resembled her father. Even at this young age, there was so much of Bucky Barnes in that little girl that sometimes, looking at her, it took Natasha's breath away.
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"Then again, I only let you out of my sight because you know twelve ways to kill me with your thumbs," he says, reaching down and stroking the curve of her breast with his right hand.
"Or are you up to fifteen now?"
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She sighed a soft moan, however, when he stroked her breast; they still ached and yearned for his calloused touch. Damn that they couldn't do what they both wanted, and that was to devour each other, but waiting was necessary, and a slow burn could be well and good, she supposed.
"Thirteen," she corrected with a light, sweet sigh, shifting a little between Bucky's thighs. "Maybe fourteen if I'm wearing heels."
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He keeps his fingertips light along the curve of her breast and prepares himself to pull them away if it's too much for her. He wants to be close but he doesn't want to drive her insane.
"Muscles loosening up any for you? Or do you still want me to rub you down when we get out of here?"
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But Bucky's hands brought her out of that reverie in the past, and Natasha squirmed slightly, arching her back to invite more of his touch. "...feels good," she whispered, turning her head to kiss the ridge of his jaw. "It's a good ache, this time." A slight smile. "And yes, you're not getting out of that offer so easily, White Wolf."
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There's a secret hope that it won't be the only pregnancy but he's been too afraid to ask if this had been a one time miracle or if the surgery had meant there was a chance for more children. The idea of having a little family to replace what they'd lost is appealing to him and unless the world really can't function without he or Natasha in the fight, he doesn't want to suit up again. He doesn't want his kids going through what Clint's wife and kids go through every time the Avengers call.
"Just trying to take care of my girl, that's all."
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"Well, this is the first time I've ever recuperated from a pregnancy, so we're both a little out of our depths, aren't we?" She lathered, rinsed, and repeated, swishing lightly in the cooling water. "But trust me, babe," she purred, nuzzling at his throat, "your hands are good." Natasha stretched in Bucky's arms, lifting her arms to wind them around his neck, tipping her head in silent invitation.
"You can even kiss me," she offered, "if you really want."
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He pours everything he has into the kiss, teeth tugging lightly at Natasha's lower lip and tongue sliding against hers. He wants to kiss her so thoroughly that she has something to hold on to in these weeks they can't be together and let her know that he wants her even though everything in her body must be haywire right now.