ostavil | open post

"Oh? That's good, then. I was worried I'd be in the doghouse a lot longer, honestly. It's not my style to bust up a place but it is the style of guys like me. I like to subvert expectations when I can and I don't help myself when I get drunk."

Bucky grins at her. "Which is why I am going to avoid any and all bars for the foreseeable future. I don't have a problem with alcohol by any means but I'm not letting the press catch me near it so they can spin out a story about how I need to go to rehab."

It's one place he, thankfully, has never had to go and never plans to go.

"Indeed, I admit I was surprised that you've never been, or even needed to go. That, in itself, speaks very well for your reputation, James." She paused then, gently tapping her fingers against the papers in the file. When she spoke next, it was slowly, almost hesitantly. A little apologetic.

"I...admit...you weren't at all what I was expecting, Mr. Barnes. James." Natasha chuckled a little ruefully. "Most celebrities I've come into contact with usually bring along a metric ton of baggage, excuses, all sorts of reasons why they deserve to be given a clean slate, regardless of whether they actually do or otherwise. And, believe me, it's usually 'otherwise'." A soft sigh, then she straightened, her professional smile returning.

"But, I just wanted to say...that I'm glad Mr. Wilson called me to handle the PR for you. I'm...I'm glad of the chance to get to know you. And that you're...well, that you're not par for the course."

Bucky smiles a little and it's a soft, genuine smile. It's the sort of smile that only true friends see and not the people who fill the stadiums every night. He likes Natasha, probably more than he should considering she has a boyfriend, and he knows it's going to end badly.

"Well, I don't want to be that guy that's just an asshole, you know? I like this kind of music but that attitude - it's not necessary. You can be a decent guy and still put out metal, I promise. And honestly, metal isn't all I can do. It's just that I like it and it's what the fans like."

"And from what I understand, you went to college and have an engineering degree." That had been truly a surprise. "It's...impressive, given your current vocation. Still, you were brave enough to go after your dream, and actually attain it. That's...that's something to be proud of, James."

So many of her clients were shrouded in superficiality, it'd almost become her own way of life. Costumes, masks, labels; presence was everything. Even her own relationships were choreographed...

"Well, I just wanted to put that out there. For whatever it's worth." She smiled in response to his smile, her own a little...softer, perhaps truer.

"So, a rehabilitation hospital concert this week? Something for the younger generation?"

"I think so. They like that kind of stuff. I can do something softer with the little kids and my usual stuff with the older ones. Believe it or not, I know some nursery rhymes. My sisters actually let me babysit sometimes too. I'm the fun uncle."

That's a title he takes very seriously.

"And I didn't know you knew about my degree and everything. I never did anything with it. It just...the music took off, you know? But I wanted the safety net just in case."

"Mr. Wilson gave me your complete dossier," she told him, tapping the file folder. "He wanted to give me all of the information possible, whatever it took to get you back to sterling with the press." Nothing personal, of course, but whatever was accessible via public record.

"And I can absolutely understand wanting something to fall back on. The road to stardom is rocky, rough at the very least, and definitely no guarantee of a career. But you seem to have made it work for you, which is quite the accomplishment."

Natasha smiled indulgently, nodding to his commentary about his sisters. "They are all very lovely, those that I met this weekend. Miss Rebecca, she's quite the spitfire." She could only imagine how much fun he was with his nieces and nephews. "I've been in touch with the center's event coordinator, and she reports their entire week is clear for any afternoon activities, so it's up to you whatever day you'd like."

"I'll look at what we have - I know we're having a rehearsal at some point this week but I'll make this a priority of mine too. I wanna look good in the press again but I want it to look natural, you know? Like it needs to be stuff I do anyway and photographers just happen to notice it."

He laughs softly when she refers to his sister as Miss Rebecca and holds up a hand. Absolutely not.

"Becca would die if she heard you refer to her as that. She's only in her twenties. That's practically a baby compared to us."

"In that case, I won't tell her you called her a baby, then." Natasha laughed right along with him, acknowledging the joke.

"But please, let me know as soon as you can, and I'll set something up with the coordinator. That particular event should take care of the large-scale productions...unless there's something else specific you'd like to do?"

"Wednesday is probably the best day," Bucky says, wanting to go ahead and give her that commitment so that she can plan accordingly for him. It'll make it easier for her to arrange the press junket and everything if she knows when and it gives her a few days.

"But I don't have anything else specific, no. I guess if I think of something, I should just call you up and arrange it? It feels strange, having a new office to go through, but I kinda like it. I like working with you."

Bucky falls quiet for a moment. "I'm sorry I didn't...seem keen on setting that thing up for your boyfriend. It's just not the kind of thing I like being put on the spot for and it was awkward, being asked."

Natasha nodded, making a note on her calendar. "That works. I'll call her this afternoon, then. And...yes, if you would, please let me know as soon as you decide." She ducked her head in acquiescence of his compliment. "Thank you, James. I really appreciate that."

Then he mentioned Alex, and she wanted to groan. But presence was everything, so.

"Oh, please don't apologize about that. It was uncouth of him to even ask, and I promise you, he doesn't really expect anything to come of it. Alex is...well, Alex." She tried to smile through the words. "Most pilots are by nature that brash. It tends to make them very good at their job."

"I just don't like...I don't know. I'm not going to badmouth your partner," Bucky says, spreading his hands out a little. He wishes he didn't have tattooed knuckles because maybe then he'd be someone Natasha was interested in - Alex certainly hadn't had visible tattoos.

"Sort of made me feel stupid, I guess. Maybe that's just my big rock star ego, though, and I need a kick in the ass and a slice of humble pie. Still. Maybe he didn't mean for it to come off as insulting but I felt a little slighted. You know how it is? When you're proud of something and someone cuts it down?"

Natasha sighed, glancing down at her desk and absently picking up a pen, just to have something for her fingers to hold. "He didn't mean it," she tried to apologize for her jackass boyfriend. "I assure you he didn't. Alex just...plows his way through things. Life, included." She tried a tentative smile.

"But don't worry, I don't think he'll 'have time' to attend another get-together. It's the usual story. Once something becomes mundane, or he's done it more than twice, he loses interest and goes on to find the next thrilling thing."

"Well, I won't uninvite him," Bucky says diplomatically. "Because it might mean uninviting you and you're certainly invited to any gathering I have with the guys or my family. Just you wait - you're gonna get a baby shower invitation if you're not careful. The Barnes' don't play about hospitality."

He gives her a soft smile, a true one, and tries to ease things over a little. Natasha shouldn't have to suffer because Alex insulted him. It's hardly her fault.

"I like you. I'm pretty open and friendly with the people who work with me and for me but you're more like Sam, to me. You're someone I want to know better and work with more."

Yes, this was going to be dangerous, any further fraternizing with this man. And despite all of her good sense, Natasha was honest enough with herself to admit that she liked him. This Bucky Barnes wasn't just a metalhead with no common sense or boasted that superior attitude that so grated her with most of her other clients. Quite the opposite.

And it was dangerous, being exposed to more of it.

She needed to stop, and she needed to stop now. Before things got any worse. She better than anyone else in the room knew how things looked, despite the actual intent.

"I...appreciate that, Mr. Barnes." Deliberate, this time. But she couldn't help responding to that lovely smile, damnit. "That's very kind of you to say." Work, focus on work. "So. I'll call this afternoon and get that event set up, and you'll let me know if anything else springs to mind, yes?"

Reiteration never hurt. Natasha prayed he'd forget she'd agreed to his offer about lunch; she didn't need to play with any more fire than she already had.

"Absolutely. I appreciate everything you've done for me and anything you think about doing in the future. I've got to send you flowers or something - girls like flowers, don't they?"

Bucky's teasing and he knows he's edging toward flirting. Knows that he's edging toward trying to steal another man's girl. He personally thinks that man is an idiot but it's not his place to do this.

"I'll look up an appropriate and professional gift, don't worry."

If she indulged him just a little, would that be unfair? Natasha knew the surest way to protect herself, and that was to stop him cold. She wasn't available, after all. But, who said Barnes was even thinking along that route? How could she be sure that he was simply a nice guy under all of that ink, a nice guy who actually gave a damn about people he worked with?

Things weren't supposed to be this confusing, damnit.

"Flowers are fine," Natasha suddenly heard herself say, and wanted to kick herself. Again. "But really, you don't have to send any gifts, Mr. Barnes. It's sweet, but not necessary."

"Well, gifts are never necessary but I send them anyway. It's just what you do," Bucky says. "If they were necessary, they wouldn't be gifts. They would be requirements and part of any civil exchange."

Maybe that's a little...he's got to stop this. It needs to stop. There's nothing he needs more than to forget about any romantic involvement with this woman and stop testing the waters.

"I'm buying lunch, by the way. Part of your gift."

Oh, great. So much for him forgetting. Natasha was at first inclined to protest, then try and back out altogether, but she stopped herself before she crammed her foot right into her mouth. She had been the one to instigate lunch; she'd be horrid if she tried to get out of it. And with no feasible reason, at that.

"...well, if you insist."

After coordinating with her secretary, Natasha collected her purse and left her office with her client, but paused once outside. "Um...shall I meet you there? I take it from the helmet that you came on your motorcycle, and...I'm not really dressed for that, Mr. Barnes." Not in her heels, trim skirt, and pale green blouse.

"Yeah, you probably don't want me to take you out on the bike dressed like that. I'll mess you all up and you don't want to look like that the rest of the day. See you soon."

The restaurant he likes for low key get togethers lets him come in the backdoor and park his bike out there so no one bothers him. He tells them that Natasha is coming to meet him and goes to his table, drumming his fingers idly while he waits on her to show up.

After getting directions, Natasha followed Barnes across town, pulling her sedan into the small parking lot of a rather non-descript hole-in-the-wall cafe that didn't really look like much from the outside. Nevertheless, she stepped in, pausing to let her eyes adjust to the indoor lighting, and was immediately taken to a table in the back, where her client waited, already seated.

"Goodness," she remarked, taking her own seat, "how often do you eat here? I'm getting the sense that you're more than just a run-of-the-mill VIP, James." All right, she couldn't help the slight curve of her lips or the crinkle of her eyes with the gentle tease. Sue her.

"This is where I take people I like so we don't get bothered," Bucky says. He likes it when she calls him James. Other than his mom, no one does, and Natasha is definitely not his mother. Far from it. He grins a little and pushes a menu toward her.

"I always get the same thing so you take a look at that menu and decide. It's on me, I don't care what you get. Order the whole thing if you want and I'll make a valiant effort to help you eat your way through that massive order."

That actually made her laugh, a low sultry sound that she hadn't heard herself make in...years. But she just couldn't help it. The man was so silly sometimes, it was more than enough to pique her humor. After perusing the menu for a few minutes, Natasha finally decided on a salad, the one loaded with grilled chicken, pecans, cranberries, and other goodies, and propped her elbows on the table, chin on her hands, and gazed speculatively at her client across the table.

"And what are you having? If you tell me a ham sandwich, James Barnes, I think I might swat you with this menu." Again, Natasha heard the words leaving her mouth, but it was only after they'd been said that her good sense kicked in and she wanted to immediately make her excuses and disappear. Damn the man, for...for...for being decent!

And sincere, her backbrain slyly pointed out, and sweet, and kind, and utterly gorgeous, let's not forget... Natasha resolutely bit the inside of her cheek, mentally hauling herself back into her chair and out of the gutter.

"It's a club sandwich, actually, and it has turkey and swiss and bacon in addition to that ham," Bucky says, grinning at her. "So there, you were wrong. I won the bet so you have to buy me a drink. You can't do it right now, I'm not drinking today, I'm trying to keep that off the radar right now, but I'll call in that drink in the future."

God, he has got to stop flirting with her. She's taken and she sort of works for him. With him? It's just not wise even if she is gorgeous and smart and has the kind of voice that makes him want to do things.

"So, other than me, how has work been?"

To her absolute horror, Natasha realized she was reaching across the table before she could stop her arm from moving, and she gave Bucky Barnes a small thump on the back of one tattooed hand. "I was half-right," she told him, undeniably cheeky. "So there."

Reining in that involuntary desire to flirt with this man, Natasha sat back in her chair, grasping hold of a safer topic. "I agree, you definitely need to curtail your relationship with alcohol, Bucky Barnes." And bit her tongue. Again. Natasha! she screamed at herself. Stop this madness!

But then he asked about work, and she sighed internal relief. "Oh, not too bad. Thankfully, I'm only working with two other clients, besides yourself." She couldn't discuss details, of course. "I try to keep no more than three at the time. Not enough hours in the day for any more than that."

God, it seems like she's flirting back with him and Bucky just can't fucking help himself. He's really into it and he wants to keep flirting with her, work her up and ask her on a date and not just to Gino's through the back alley so the photographers can't see her. Goddamn it.

"Oh, so I'm taking up someone's spot in your schedule, huh? Better kick me out so you can get someone real hopeless in."

He ducks his head a little and smiles. "But I'll try to keep away from the bottle just for you."

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