ostavil | open post

"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.

Bucky tries to keep his distance from Natasha. He does send her a nice bouquet of flowers to celebrate the tour and thank her for all of her help and he sends demos of the first single to his agent and slips one to Natasha's mailbox as well; she needs to hear it produced and really performed and not just by him. The note he sends is personal but cryptic enough that if it gets intercepted by anyone they won't know what it means since they won't have heard the lyrics in question.

For the Ivy on my Stones - J.

He needs to give up on her but he just can't and it's eating him up inside.

About three weeks after the youth concert, Bucky's cell phone rang with a familiar number. Natasha Romanoff was on the other end of the call, and when it connected to Barnes' voicemail, she immediately inquired, "--James?" Far from her usual smooth cool tone, this time her voice was shaky, strained, and quivering just enough to be heard.

"James, are you there?" Traffic sounded in the background, along with the heavy sound of rain on pavement. "I know it's been a good while, but...but I was hoping...hoping you might, um, be able to...to pick me up, if at all possible. I'm without my purse, so I can't get a taxi--" A horn blared, followed by her swift gasp, then her voice appeared again.

"Please, when you get this, give me a call? ...please, James?"

Then the line clicked off, silent.

Bucky hadn't been with his phone right that second but when he walks back into the kitchen to snag it, he sees the voicemail from Natasha and listens to it. Shit. She'd sounded upset and obviously she'd be scared if she was stranded so he tugs on his shoes while he calls her back.

"Hey, Natasha, it's me. Sorry I didn't pick up - I was in the other room. I want you to stay on the phone with me okay? I'm gonna come get you in the Mustang - it's the blue one. Gimme the address? Tell me more or less where you are?"

She nearly melted with relief when she saw her phone light up again. "James, oh thank God. Um...I'm at the Galleria, right across from my apartment building. I'm not sure which entrance...but I can meet you at Macy's?"

The rain was coming down harder, and she was soaked from running, fleeing, really, but that was of little import right now. The important thing was to get away.

"I...I don't know the street address. I just know it's the biggest mall in Ingelwood. And it's storming here, so please be careful...okay?"

"Storming? Nah, worry about you. I can drive in some rain even if we don't get it all that often here. I'm from Brooklyn, Natasha. You wanna tell me what's going on or do you want to tell me in the car? I've got a long drive and I don't want you getting off the phone with me while you're by yourself."

She isn't in a bad neighborhood, necessarily, but Natasha sounds shaken up and scared and Bucky doesn't want her to feel all alone until he gets there. He wants her to know she's there for him.

"Keep safe and if something happens, tell me and call 911 okay?"

She drew in a shuddering breath. "...I'm okay, for now. Just...just a little shaken." Taking another breath, more for calm this time, Natasha paused, then spoke again, tone quiet, but still quivering. "I'm outside the Macy's entrance, under the light. I think...I think I'll be okay until you arrive, James."

Falling silent again, it was a few minutes before she spoke. "...we had a fight. Things were said..." She broke off with a sigh. "It got bad, he's terrifying when he's angry. I didn't know what to do. I tried to make peace, back down, but he didn't want to listen. Started throwing things. Punching the walls." And hitting other things; she could still taste the blood in her mouth. And she knew her eye was going to be swollen in the morning; her cheekbone still throbbed. Thankfully her hair hid the worst of it.

"...so I ran out. Left my purse, my keys, but thank God my phone was in my pocket." And she was terrified to go back. Ever.

Bucky grits his teeth to keep from calling Alexi a fucking asshole on the phone while Natasha is clearly shaken up and worried but he's thinking it. He's also thinking that the pilot is no fucking match for someone who learned how to brawl in the streets in Brooklyn and then went into the Army. That's not the focus right now, though. The focus is Natasha.

He manages to get to the Galleria in good time (great time, actually. thanks traffic) and swings up outside the entrance that Natasha had indicated she was standing under. He sees her there under the light and leans over and opens the door for her.

"Get in, I'll take you back to my place so you can have a place to crash."

She was hiding behind the wide column as the headlights approached, but after recognizing the blue Mustang, emerged into the light. The door swung open and Natasha darted quickly to the car, almost falling into the leather seat with a grateful sob. She was soaked and cold, teeth chattering, but she closed the door quickly and let herself relax into the car's quiet interior.

"O-okay," was all she managed to get out, huddled in the passenger seat. She wanted to fall all over him and cry for hours, tell him how thankful she was that he'd come for her, but she couldn't. Not now. Because her world had just upended, and she didn't know what else to do.

Bucky turns the heat on so Natasha can work on getting warmer and drying out and he turns to look at her, finally seeing the bruising on her face. It's hidden behind her hair but he can see enough of it and he clenches his hand on the steering wheel.

"He fucking hit you? I swear to God, if it wasn't more important for me to take care of you right now, I'd end him. Look, you're staying with me as long as you need to stay. I'll go back tomorrow and get your stuff."

Maybe he's taking charge of it a little but there's no way he's letting Natasha back near that man if he was able to do that to her and send her out crying in the rain.

Reflex had her cupping that side of her face, her swollen eye and her split lip, but Natasha just nodded, mute. Humiliation, shame, and despair crashed in and over her, and she felt tears again slip from her eyes, painful in the left.

She hugged her arms, head bent so that her long wet hair hid her face, and kept her eyes on the floorboard. She wanted to tell him not to worry, she was all right, she just needed a lift, but no words came to her tongue.

So she nodded again, silent and helpless.

Bucky drives faster on the way back, somehow, and when he pulls back to his house he kind of hates that it's so fucking huge and parts of it are impersonal. He thinks Natasha needs better than that right now so he tries to decide what is and isn't appropriate.

He pulls into the garage and leads her inside. "Hey, first thing - let me get you something to wear, okay? I don't have anything but my clothes but they're clean and dry. I'll get yours washed and get your things over here tomorrow. I'll go over there with Sam and Steve, we'll handle it."

Between the three of them, he thinks Alexi won't try anything. He wouldn't if the shoe were on the other foot.

"Come with me and I'll let you have my room for the night. Bed's not made but I don't think there's sheets on all the guest beds. Fuck if I know, this house is too big for just me. I've got one of those heated mattress pads, too, it'll warm you up."

Bucky thinks he's probably rambling but he's so worried about her that he can't help but hover a little.

Natasha let him usher her into his house, still wrapped around herself. She'd left her phone back on Macy's sidewalk; she didn't want Alex to have any chance to ferret out her location. She could do Barnes that courtesy, at least. Nodding to his rambling, Natasha followed along silently as he took her through the spacious mansion, ending up in his own bedroom.

Were it any other situation, she'd have insisted she sleep in a guest room, but tonight she just wasn't up for being politic or professional. He darted off to fetch dry clothes, and she almost held him back, wanting to burrow into his arms for comfort and safety, but she was still soaking wet.

She needed to doctor her face, warm up, and get out of these sodden clothes. She did take off her shoes, leaving them by the door as not to soak the carpet. And had just given a mental "fuck it" and was peeling out of her drenched slacks when Bucky returned with sweats and a small t-shirt.

"...thank you," Natasha managed to mutter, clutching the dry garments gratefully.

Bucky hadn't expected her to start taking things off in front of him but he does Natasha the courtesy of not looking and turning around to make sure she has everything she needs in the en suite bathroom for in the morning when she took a shower or a bath. After a few moments, he comes back out and tosses her wet clothes into the hamper before opening up his arms.

"C'mere already. This place has great security and nothing's getting through me anyway. You're safe with me. I'll keep you safe."

This is far past his feelings for her and into wanting to protect her. Natasha needs to be away from this man for her own good and he's going to do everything he can to make that happen. He'd take a bullet for this woman so offering his arms and his bed and his roof are nothing.

Natasha haphazardly pulled on the offered clothes, feeling a little like a burrito in the oversize garments. But she didn't care; the clothes were warm and dry, if three sizes too big. And then Bucky was there, holding out his arms for her, and Natasha bit the uninjured side of her mouth and stumbled into them with a muted little sob.

God, but she wanted to be safe! Protected from all harm, to have someone else watching out for her, to be able to let down her unassailable guard for just a brief moment. Her hair was still damp, but curling as it dried, and she nestled her head beneath James' chin, small arms immediately winding around his waist, holding him close. She was too exhausted to cry, but a few unmistakable sniffles escaped, nevertheless.

Bucky rubs his hand against her back and just holds her close, giving Natasha the hug he thinks she needs after what seems to have been a long, hard day. He doesn't want her to have to worry about anything and after just holding her for a little while, he pulls away enough to motion toward the bed.

"We can watch something on tv," he says, picking up the remote and starting to flip through things randomly on Netflix. He settles on what looks like some kind of comedy and lets it just play while he guides Natasha over to the bed.

"You get comfortable while I get out of these jeans, all right? I'll be right back and we can have our sweats and Netflix party uninterrupted."

The bed hadn't been made, and it was large enough to swim in, yet Natasha didn't hesitate. She was so tired, mentally and emotionally drained after the events of the evening, and the mountain of pillows beckoned in heavenly chorus. Bucky turned on the TV but the redhead didn't really pay it much attention; she was busy burrowing into a small nest right in the center of that large mattress.

By the time he returned, the petite redhead had nestled beneath the soft satin bedspread, her long curls haloed across several of the king-size pillows, and her eyes were closed. They opened, however, when she felt him put a knee on the edge of the bed, and a corner of her mouth lifted in a soft smile.

"...thank you, James," was all she said, but a small hand crept from beneath the bedspread, reaching for him.

"You don't have to thank me for taking care of you. It's something I'm always gonna do regardless," Bucky says. He slides into the bed alongside her and pulls Natasha into his arms, holding her close in a way he hopes feels protective and comforting and isn't sexual in any way. He has feelings for her, yeah, but it's not about that right now.

"Someday, you might tell me about what happened. You might never tell me. What you need to know is that I don't care about anything but taking care of you and making sure you feel safe. It doesn't matter what happens outside of that, all right?"

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