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She knew he was right; she needed to report this to the local authorities and press charges for assault and battery. It was the sensible thing to do; she was a lawyer, she knew that, but doing so took a bit more courage than she was at the moment feeling. Natasha started to nibble on her lip, realized that it hurt, and stopped. Then sighed.

"You're right," she finally agreed, not letting go of the door frame. "And I know that. I just...can't, right now. It doesn't make any sense, but I just can't, James. I just want to take some painkillers, brush my teeth, and crawl back into bed."

Gazing at him with a single green eye - the other swollen nearly shut - Natasha asked, "...can we do that? Please?"

"I think we need to get pictures of this before they go away," Bucky says, not wanting to say no to her request but also not wanting to ruin any kind of case by waiting too long. "But if you're too overwhelmed right this second, I'll get you some meds and we'll just get back in bed for a little while. I think I've got a spare toothbrush in here."

Bucky reaches past her to rifle through one of the drawers in the bathroom and pulls out both a bottle of Advil and an unopened toothbrush.

"See? Both. Go ahead and do what you want and come on back to bed. I don't have anywhere I need to be today so we can just hang out, all right?"

Because she knew he was right, Natasha did let Bucky take a few snapshots of her face, because once the bruising started to fade, the severity of her case would also diminish. But afterwards, she downed several of the Advil, scrubbed her teeth as hard as she could, and carefully washed her face, oddly liking the scent of the soap on his sink.

But then, she crawled right back into bed, covertly shucking out of the sweats but of course keeping the t-shirt; it was soft fabric, and his unique scent was still ingrained in the fibers. It was comforting, especially right now. Natasha knew it was grossly unfair, but she didn't hesitate to cuddle right back into his arms, once more tucking her head beneath his chin, safe and sound.

"...are you sure you're not busy today?" she asked drowsily, nose pressed right beneath the ridge of his strong jaw. "I don't want to keep you from your work, James..."

"Babe, I just recorded eight songs in a week. I'm taking a day off. Nobody's going to question my work ethic, I promise you."

The pet name slips out automatically and he wants to take it back because his feelings hardly matter in this at all except that he needs to take care of her and he needs to stop being...whatever. This is about Natasha right now.

"I got plenty of time just to hang out with you in bed. All day, if you need it."

The dry sarcasm in his wonderful voice made her chuckle, and she gave him an involuntary squeeze just because she could. "Okay, fair point." Asking about his work made her think about her own, and Natasha realized that she needed to call her secretary and let her know she wouldn't be in today. Or for the rest of the week, more than likely.

But she didn't have a phone, and the office wouldn't be open for another three hours, at best. Surely she could catch a quick nap between now and then. Hopefully, because she yawned, already drowsy again.

"...sing for me?" A sleepy request; Natasha tipped back her head to gaze up at him, a soft smile curving her mouth. "I love to hear you sing, James."

"Of course I will."

Maybe it's easier to hear him sing than to deal with him talking so he situates himself so he can sit up a little bit and still have Natasha rest against his chest. When he sings, it's things from his old albums stripped down and things he's recently written for her all in a mix. Nobody's ever been this into him singing for them, before, and it feels good. It feels really good. After a while, he takes a break and laughs softly.

"Tell me if you have other requests, I'm a good jukebox."

Lying against him as she was, Natasha had fallen into a light, blissful doze during his impromptu acapella concert, waking every few minutes only to be lulled back to sleep by Bucky's low, melodic voice. She heard him speak again, no rhythm to those words, and blinked her eyes open, muzzily realizing a full hour had passed.

"Hmm? Oh." She had to chuckle, a low throaty sound. "Yes, you really are." She nestled her head on his shoulder, relishing his warmth. She hated the cold. "Sing the song about the ivy and the stone. I think that one is my favorite..."

"Kinda mine too," Bucky says, singing the song. It's different in this quiet, hushed place between the two of them than it was recording it and honestly, Bucky feels like no one will understand the true intimacy of that song but he and Natasha no matter how many teenage girls will squeal that it's "totally their song, oh my god."

He strokes her hair as he sings, just wanting to comfort her, and when he finishes the song he doesn't stop moving his hand in her hair.

"You're my favorite. Doesn't matter where you are in life compared to me."

His voice washed over her, soothing away the hurts of the previous day. Natasha slowly let herself relax again, cuddled against Bucky's solid chest. He was safe and warm, and a wonderful jukebox, indeed. Pure talent. She drifted back off again, dreaming of a tall, thick stone wall covered in tangled green ivy, broad leaves caressing the stone with each breath of the wind.

James was stroking her hair, petting her gently, and Natasha drifted right off to sleep yet again, lost in her dreams and the sound of her savior's low voice, lulling her like nothing else ever had. She didn't hear him speak again, nor feel it when Bucky shifted so they might rest better together. Exhaustion had caught up with her once more, and held her trapped in its clutches.

It's easy to fall asleep with Natasha in his arms and when he stirs again, she's still curled up against him. This is the thing he's dreamed of, honestly. He'd love a physical relationship that was reciprocated, sure, but if he could only have this forever, he thinks that's a pretty good deal.

He hates to wake her so he just murmurs lightly against her hair. "I'm going to have food ordered in. Is there something you want? I'll get it and we can eat something. I'll go get your stuff afterward. Do you want someone to come stay with you while I'm gone?"

Her warm bulwark stirred, and Natasha swam out from her slumber, a little nonplussed. She dimly heard James asking about food, but the thought of eating made her a little nauseous right now, so Natasha just shook her head; she was fine right now.

Lips dry and chapped, she licked them a little before saying, "...'m good, James. Just tired, still." And possibly concussed, but there was no way to know until she got into a doctor's office. "'m okay, though. 'm gonna stay right here and nap..." A yawn accentuated this.

"Okay. Well, when I go out, I'll get us something and when you wake up, you'll have your stuff and something to eat."

It doesn't take long to round up Sam and Steve (who'd taken a half day just to help out with this) and luckily Alexi isn't home when they come into the apartment to get Natasha's things. It would have been an issue except the building manager was more than happy to open an apartment for the Bucky Barnes.

They'd brought boxes and pack up Natasha's clothes and jewelry, shoes and personal items. He makes sure to get a laptop that looks like her work stuff and her keys and wallet. He doesn't see the cell phone she'd called him from and she hadn't brought it with her so while he stops for Thai, he just goes and gets her a new phone and pays cash for it. It won't help with her contacts list or anything but since it's an iPhone maybe she can get them from the cloud or some shit. He just puts it on his own plan, too, and decides that he won't mention it unless it comes up.

When he gets back to the house, he puts everything in the kitchen before going back to the bedroom.

"Hey Sleeping Beauty. Got food and a bunch of stuff for you. Got you a new phone too."

She was still asleep when the men returned, and didn't stir until Bucky appeared in the bedroom, calling to her gently. Natasha shifted, yawned, then blinked awake, single green eye slowly focusing on the dark-haired musician next to her. She smiled, truly happy to see him there, but winced when doing so twinged her lip.

"Owww...man, that still hurts." But she managed to sit up, at least, pushing tangled red hair out of her face. "Hey," she murmured shyly, still sleepy and tousled. Natasha couldn't help but reach for him, taking his hand with hers and lacing their fingers together.

"'m glad your back," she told him softly, lifting their joined hands to rub the back of his against her cheek. "...what time is it?"

"Around four," Bucky says. "And I'm glad to be back. I got your stuff down in the kitchen and I'll move it wherever you want it in a little while. I'd like it if you stayed up here in the main house while you're still healing up, though."

Maybe he's protective but it's warranted right now, he thinks.

"You don't gotta stay in my room or anything but uh, if you wanna stay in my room I don't mind. Kind of nice to have someone to share with."

Hearing that he'd brought her possessions back with him garnered a little bit of wary trepidation. Natasha sat up further, gaze widening as much as it could. "Did...was there any trouble?" Dear God, she hoped not. Alex would have snarled and refused anyone in the apartment, she knew that without question.

"I..." and she paused. Licked her lips, then tried again. "I'm grateful for the offer, James. And, all things considered," because she didn't want Alex to find her anywhere in the city, "I think I'll accept the invitation. To stay here, I mean. As long as you truly don't mind."

"Nah, he wasn't there. Your landlord let me in. I guess he was a fan or at least recognized me and didn't think I was there to steal shit. Anyway, I got everything that was yours and I didn't see your phone so I just got you a new one. You'll have to set it up and everything but don't worry about it. Don't worry about staying here, either. Stay as long as you want."

It's not like he doesn't like the space and, honestly, it's nice to have someone he cares about here. It makes the loneliness less.

"Nobody's gonna come up here without my security letting me know about it. You'll be safe."

Natasha sighed relief, hearing that. But her brows furrowed when he mentioned a new phone for her, but there wasn't much use in protesting. And in all honesty, she did need a phone. She still needed to call her office to let Anita know what was going on, or at least as much as she could.

And indeed, staying here would be the safest option by far; there was no way anyone would gain access to this place without permission. But for the moment, she thought she could do with some food. Natasha pushed back the covers, swinging bare legs out over the bed.

"You mentioned food. What did you bring back?"

"I brought back Thai. It's downstairs in the kitchen if you want to eat there or we can go out on the deck and eat. Whatever. I'm flexible."

Really, he's just trying to please her and Bucky's pretty sure he'd wrap himself up into a pretzel to do just that. He's got it bad for her, terribly bad, but he doesn't think he wants to be anywhere else.

"I figured you'd probably be hungry."

"Thai? That's perfect." She sighed satisfaction. Then smiled shyly again. "Thank you, James. For everything. I really appreciate all of your help." Reaching for her discarded sweats, Natasha slipped into them, saying, "Would you mind dishing us up while I find something a little more suitable to wear?"

It was a bit awkward, the thought of parading around this millionaire's home in his borrowed clothes. As if she were some pathetic groupie, greedy for his time and attention.

"Eating on the deck sounds fabulous. The view out there is amazing."

"Oh, sure. I'll get it together out there," Bucky says. He goes and puts it on actual plates instead of eating out of cartons and brings a pitcher of water along with a bottle of wine so Natasha has choices for what she wants to drink.

He finds himself with a little extra time and he hates it because he's just pacing around and fidgeting like this is an actual date and not just having takeout with a friend who needs his help.

"Get it together, Barnes," he mutters to himself.

Natasha rummaged through the boxes the men brought back, and ended up with another pair of yoga pants and a comfortable pale blue blouse, long sleeved to keep warm in the cool Pacific breeze. Thick woolen socks completed her ensemble, and she joined her host on the terrace with a shy little smile, nodding appreciating for the take-out.

"Thanks, James," the redhead told him, reaching out to squeeze his hand on the way to her chair. "It smells amazing. I love Thai food." Her brows rose, seeing the wine, but she opted for ice water, just because. "Hopefully there are dumplings, because those are my all time favorite."

"Two orders," Bucky says, grinning. "They're my favorite too and I don't like sharing but if you want 'em all, I won't fight you. You're a guest, after all."

And he's like a teenage boy around her and has been ever since he's met her. God, he has it bad, and he needs to remember she's coming out of a relationship so bad that Bucky has no reference for it in his personal life. He's never known anyone like Alexi before.

"We got a decent view out here, too. If you want, I can go light a fire in the firepit and we can watch the sun go down."

Natasha chuckled lightly, tucking one foot beneath her. "I'm okay with sharing, if you don't mind. Just this once, maybe." Because dumplings really were her favorite, especially slathered in peanut sauce. "And a fire would be nice," she agreed, settling back.

She and Alex had never spent time like this, just comfortable in each other's company. Being alone today, able to reflect, Natasha had thought back and realized just how sterile her relationship with the Air Force pilot had been. It was depressing, really.

And while she knew James Barnes had 'feelings' for her, spoken from his own mouth, Natasha simply didn't believe she was ready for that sort of relationship again. Her own heart was too battered, too weary, to try and navigate a man's expectations. But perhaps they could be friends, at least.

"Just wanna make sure you're comfy and happy," Bucky says. That's more important than anything romantic, honestly. He cares about Natasha even if it's never more than friends and right now, she needs a friend more than anything else. Bucky wants to be that friend.

"If you need anything, you tell me or Anita or Becca and we'll get it for you. Anita's the housekeeper. She's here during the week from 8-5. Otherwise, it's me, and I'll walk through fire to get you anything you want."

It was second nature for her to be wary. She'd not come from a stable, happy family, and her formative years had been sketchy, at best. She'd never made friends easily, and had always remained aloof; not out of any disdain or snobbery, but because she just couldn't see herself fitting in to any casual group of friends.

No, she'd dedicated her years to her job, believing her profession far more important. She'd amassed a small fortune, which would serve her well now, thank goodness, but it was still...nice, to have someone else offering to take care of her. Or so he said.

Time would tell. It always did.

"Thank you, James, I appreciate all of your help." Natasha thought she might be saying that over and over in the coming days. But she meant it. Then she tucked her feet in close, wrapping her arms around her knees and gazed out over the water. "...to be honest, I can't really remember the last time I've even been happy."

Realizing how that sounded, the redhead turned a smile on her host, soft. "But this is a good start, though."

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