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Her heart gave a lurch, hearing that, an insane surge of white-hot jealousy surging upwards for this unknown woman, this female who dared hold this man's fascination. But Natasha kept it under wraps - this really wasn't the time or place for such things, and she had no business being envious at all.

Smile never wavering, she replied, "...she must be extraordinary, to have caught your eye like that." Natasha deliberately pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, lowering her eyes briefly. Then answered, "I think it would. It's a beautiful song, James. Really." Her expression softened, gazing at him. "I'd buy it."

"She is extraordinary," Bucky says, smiling shyly at the thought of it. "But she's not mine to have. She belongs to someone else. That's the heartbreak of it all, I guess, but nobody likes songs about happy endings."

This song is longing and desperate in ways and he'd poured his feelings into it. It's something he's proud of, terribly proud.

"The other song is about her too. She's very inspirational."

Oh God, he was pining over a woman he couldn't even have? Natasha felt her heart break for him, just a little. "Oh, James," she heard herself say, brows furrowing, "that's so terrible. I really hate to hear that." Nevertheless, he was right; no one liked happy endings anymore. Which was sad, really. Especially for this man, whom Natasha was beginning to understand harbored a sweet, gentle heart beneath his 'bad-boy' veneer.

She considered asking further, but sternly reminded herself that it was none of her business, and opted to focus on the music, instead.

"Really? She must be, if she gave you enough creative energy to finish two entire songs in a single afternoon!"

"The other one is a little happier," Bucky says, taking the opportunity to shift to the side for a moment and at least show off his work. Doing that means he won't do something inappropriate like look at Natasha's mouth or touch her with his hand or, God forbid, try to kiss her.

"It's about the fantasy of when I can be with the girl," he explains. "It's just in my dreams, of course, but it's a little wish fulfillment to keep the hope alive. They can't all be sad songs."

He plays it, the tempo faster, and when he's done singing about stolen days on the beach, he looks to see what she thinks about it.

This one, knowing what she knew now, had Natasha flushing quite against her will, but smiling just the same when he finished the song. "I like that one, too, James," she told him, gingerly tucking one bare foot beneath her opposite leg. "Now you have me wanting to call this woman up and tell her what an idiot she's being, not even noticing your infatuation."

Then she bit her tongue, because she had absolutely no right whatsoever to say things like that, good God. Natasha cleared her throat, abashedly pulled more hair behind her ear, and desperately looked for something to cover her idiotic mouth.

"--what sort of guitar is that?" Safe question, right? "It's certainly lovely."

"It's a Gibson. It's better for this kind of playing than the main one I use, the Stratocaster. I was getting in a deal with Fender to have a custom one made that they could sell to people and say it was the Winter Soldier guitar," he explains.

"Luckily they don't care about my bar fighting and the deal is still on. Do you want to know the truth about the woman? The real truth?"

Natasha started to ask more about the guitar deal, but then Bucky abruptly froze her tongue when he mentioned his muse. She was of half a mind to say no, she didn't want to know anything more about this mystery woman who'd stolen his heart, and wasn't even kind enough to notice, and the other half of her screamed YES, who was she and how could she be so fascinating to garner this much of his attention??

Torn by indecision, Natasha finally blurted out a, "...sure," before the silence stretched out too awkwardly, and braided her fingers together in her lap, wondering just what the hell she'd just signed herself up for.

"She has a boyfriend and she doesn't look at me like that," Bucky says, more casual than he feels. "I'm not the kind of guy she'd want in her life. I mean, you have to admit I'm kind of a mess. You can't exactly take me home to mom considering I have an active court case and more ink than an office supply store."

Bucky laughs but it feels hollow.

"But I know if I ever got the chance to just show her, I'd be so good to her."

Natasha's sharp ear didn't miss the slight self-depreciation in his words. Hence her soft scoff, dismissing it with a gentle wave of one hand. "You're not a mess, James. I mean, look at you. Wildly successful, wonderfully talented, a heart of gold under all of that ink," she smiled at him.

"Any girl would be lucky to take you home to mom." Natasha chuckled lightly. "I bet you'd even bring 'mom' flowers the first time you met her. Am I right?" She had the suspicion that she was. But... "...it's too bad she's taken. I'd be the first one to tell her she's missing out on someone special, not giving you a chance."

"I bet you would," Bucky says. He can't take his eyes off her and he knows he's showing his hand. Natasha has got to know that she's the woman, she's the muse, she's the girl that he can't have.

"Hey, have you ever played a guitar? I could teach you. I haven't taught anyone other than my sisters' kids lately and it'd be good to teach someone with more attention span than a bumblebee."

The offer of a guitar lesson pulled her out of the ocean in which she'd been floundering, wallowing about in sheer envy of a woman she had no business disliking. Honestly, Natasha. She shook her head, long curls swaying with the movement.

"No, I haven't." She couldn't help a little laugh. "I have no musical inclination whatsoever, I'm afraid. Don't even know if it runs in my family." Oops, she hadn't meant to delve into her own personal life. "I...don't even know how to read music, or what the notes mean, or where to put my fingers." She held up long-fingered hands.

"I'd probably tie them in knots, honestly."

"Well, c'mere and let me teach you," Bucky says, motioning her over. He wants to share this with her since he can't share other parts of himself. A music lesson is something he can do without letting on to his feelings, he thinks.

Bucky settles down in the floor and opens his legs a little so Natasha can settle between them.

"If you come over here, I can show you how to hold it and everything."

That was such a bad idea. Horrible, really. Natasha watched as the musician settled down on the thick carpet, nonplussed. And before she even realized she was going to do it, she left the couch and joined him on the floor, a little abashed but following his lead to back in between his knees, the better for him to bring the guitar in front of her.

"...like this?" She was almost hesitant to touch it, the smooth wood gleaming under the lamplight. Naturally she'd seen others hold the instrument and play it, but doing so herself seemed awkward and foreign now that it was her turn.

Of course, that could have been attributed to her current predicament, with a very attractive tutor seated so close and snug behind her.

"Mmmhmm."

Sitting like this, Bucky could smell the light scent of her shampoo and it made him just want to bury his face in Natasha's curls for a little while. Instead, he takes her right hand and pulls it up to lay on the frets while the left is there to strum the strings.

"Mm, okay, so to play you have to hold down the strings at the frets and them strum, okay?"

"Okay..."

It wasn't easy, bending her fingers to fit the correct way. Natasha frowned in concentration, trying to find the right grip without letting the guitar slide out of her hands. Her fingers were indeed a little clumsy, ending up getting tangled with Bucky's over the strings.

She laughed lightly, saying over her shoulder, "See? What did I tell you. Hopeless." Trying again, craning her head to see her fingers press over the frets, she observed, "...and I have no idea what to press to even make the right notes."

Bucky narrows his eyes for a moment and looks at how she handles the strings. It's like his nephew, actually, and the problem had been that he was left-handed, not that he was clumsy. Bucky takes Natasha's hand and pulls it away before flipping the guitar over.

"You're a leftie, aren't you? My nephew Ben is left handed. I'll get you a guitar that suits you later but for now, we'll play this one upside-down and see if we can't get you started. I'll move your fingers while you strum, okay?"

Natasha blinked. "Upside down?" She paused as Bucky held the instrument out and switched it around, bringing it back in the opposite direction. Then he put her hands back where they'd previously been, this time in the more natural position, and she had to laugh.

"Are you telling me I was trying to play a right-handed guitar, Barnes?"

But she had to admit that her hands fit better this way than they had before. She followed his example with her left hand, strumming gently. Her right hand rested over his, her fingers following his digits over the frets as they moved. Slow, slowly enough for her to follow.

Natasha bit her lip. It was terribly intimate, sitting thus, but oddly enough, she found it...nice. Not at all awkward. Almost too nice, really...

Bucky leans forward and when he does, he realizes that he's speaking low against her ear. They're alone in the apartment but they might as well be alone in the entire world because all he can think about is the woman sitting against him and the way his heart beats for her. He can't say anything but he can sing so he sings the song he sang earlier, the new one about wanting someone who isn't his to have.

Oh, goddamn, my pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand but it's been promised to another and oh, I can't, stop you putting roots in my dreamland. My house of stone, your ivy grows, and now I'm covered in you.

"I can't have her. But I want her."

The low, dulcet sound of his voice beneath her ear had Natasha shivering slightly, a slow thrill running down the length of her spine. The words coursed over her, her hands going slack when her focus turned completely to his mouth brushing against her delicate skin.

God...

It took her three tries - her tongue had frozen to the roof of her mouth - but she finally squeaked out a low murmur, "...James..?" Surely he didn't mean... He couldn't. It was impossible. Ridiculous. But in her deepest heart, Natasha found herself wishing that he did mean it. That he was singing about, about her.

Against her will, her fingers covertly slipped between his, lacing their hands together, the notes falling silent with the guitar cradled in their twined arms.

"Can't have you. But I want to."

It's a dangerous thing to admit to and a treacherous slope but it's quiet here in her apartment and no one is going to interrupt them. This is a moment just between the two of them and maybe he'll get this even if he'll never have any other chance to admit his feelings or touch her.

"You're not mine to have. He has everything I want."

The moment the words left his mouth, Natasha's heart stopped. Breath hiccupped to a halt, caught in her throat. Danger alarms began to claxon in her brain, and too late she realized she was, effectively, trapped. Because she didn't really want to move.

She did, however, lower her head, long loose curls falling to hide her flushed cheeks, and she negated out of sheer habit, though her voice was just as soft, just as low. "You...you shouldn't...say things like that, James." Very carefully, but very deliberately, she untangled her fingers from his, pulling away almost regretfully.

"...we can't... I can't--"

"I know, I shouldn't have ever told you. I shouldn't have made you uncomfortable with all of that."

Natasha is pulling away and he feels like shit for it. He's just come onto someone with a boyfriend and even if he personally thinks Alexi is a shitty guy, Natasha is with him for a reason. That's not something for him to mess around with.

"But hey, a song always sells better if it's real. I just think...he doesn't know what he has. And if I was so lucky, I would treat you like a queen. That's all."

It wasn't about Alex. Not really. He was her client, and now the work between them would be...awkward. Because there would be this constant undercurrent of want, making things...difficult. And the hell of it was, she'd known better. From the moment she'd stepped into that backyard, she'd known better. She should have ended it right then and there.

Natasha shook her head. "It's not...not about that. It's just...you're my client, and I know how these things always end." She slowly slipped out from between his knees, turning to face him but still on the floor. "It's a wonderful song," she agreed. "It just...it just can't be about me." Sad green eyes met blue, her expression longing, but mournful.

"It's not going to stop being about you just because I can't have you, Natasha," Bucky points out gently. "I wrote the song about you. If I can't love you, I can write you love letters."

Bucky sighs and he knows that it's a bad idea but he leans in and cups her face in his hand before closing the distance and kissing her. If he can't have what he wants with her, he can steal the kiss, and that can be the end of it. There will be this kiss and the album and then it can be done.

But he wants so much.

She started to shake her head and try to make him understand again, but before she could, his hands were holding her still and then his lips were on hers, and Natasha just...melted. The first wild thought that flashed across her stunned mind was that she couldn't even remember the last time Alex kissed her. And he certainly hadn't kissed her like this.

Soft lips, gentle mouth, almost as if asking permission to have only this, and nothing more. Natasha heard someone whimper, and dimly realized she had, before closing one hand around Bucky's tattooed wrist, then letting her fingers hesitantly creep upwards along his forearm to rest against a defined bicep even as her lips parted beneath his.

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