ostavil | open post

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.

When Natasha closes her hand around his wrist, Bucky thinks that she means to stop him except she doesn't, she moves her hand up higher and touches his arm while she keeps kissing him. It's such a hesitant kiss, in a way, and definitely stolen but Bucky knows it's the only one he's ever going to get so he wants to make it good.

He slides his hands up into her hair and plays with it before tilting his head and deepening the kiss. He's only getting one chance to do this and if that's the case, he's going to do it right. He's going to give her a kiss that she deserves.

This time, she lurched, her right hand finding purchase against his chest to keep her from losing her balance entirely, and the redhead couldn't stop a soft, throaty moan from escaping when Bucky tilted her head and deepened their kiss, slanting his mouth more firmly over hers. Natasha felt her senses reeling, and in a moment of stark, pure clarity, she simply let go and allowed herself to kiss him right back.

It would indeed be the only one they could ever share, and by God and all the angels in heaven, she wanted it.

So she inched a little closer, both of them on their knees in her living room, and small, shy arms snuck around his waist to hold him. His tongue teased her, and she returned the favor, licking at his mouth like a wanton little kitten. It was insanity, and she knew it, but right at this moment, Natasha couldn't bring herself to care.

When Natasha comes closer to him and wraps her arms around his waist, Bucky moves back to pull her into his lap instead and spans his hands against her tiny waist as he keeps the kiss going. God, he never thought he'd even have this much and it feels like a dream to kiss her, to be able to touch her just this little bit.

He pulls away just enough to breathe and speaks softly. "I can't get you out of my head. You're my first thought and my last thought every day. If you...ever change your mind, I'll come running. You know that, right? No matter the day or the hour or the year? That I'll run to you?"

Bucky wasn't the only one short of breath when finally they parted. Natasha realized belatedly that she was back in the musician's lap, and had no idea how she'd gotten there. But it didn't matter, because her forehead was resting against his, and both of them were panting softly, more than a little delirious.

"...I know." At least, he would now. But, she knew that this desire would fade with time; it always did. Her own relationship was proof enough of that. And she had no wish to enter into another of the same sort. To be taken for granted, a trophy, a pretty face to decorate a man's arm whenever he needed to fit into society.

"But...it's...it's probably a good idea if you...if you go, James." She bit her lip as she uttered the words. God, but she didn't want to let him leave, thought she knew it was definitely the smart decision. "...please."

"Yeah. I was out of line," Bucky says, swallowing thickly. She had returned the kiss, sure, but it was still completely not okay to kiss someone who had a business relationship with him and, on top of that, was in a relationship with another man.

"If you'd rather just go through Sam from now on, I'll understand. I like your company but I was unprofessional. I'm keeping the songs for the album, though. I think you're right and they'll do well. I'm sorry if that reminds you of me or anything."

She wanted to reassure him that it was fine, she wasn't angry or upset, but couldn't find the correct words. So Natasha settled for just shaking her head with a small, sad smile. She did see him to the elevator, squeezing his hand and promising that everything was okay, and she'd talk to him in a day or so.

Back in her apartment, Natasha quietly closed and locked the door, then wandered about in a daze, finally ending up in bed with tears streaming from her eyes, and silent sobs shaking slim shoulders. She cried herself to sleep, dreamed deeply, and woke miserable.

But she was a professional, and the work went on. Barnes' concert at the youth hospital went off without a hitch; the press loved it, and Wilson made the official announcement that Winter Soldier had rescheduled their upcoming tour and was now working on a brand new album, something completely different from their usual. Excitement buzzed through the celebrity grapevine, and the band's popularity began to soar once again.

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