ostavil | open post

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."

It's a sad thing, thinking about Natasha not being happy in so long that she can't remember it. It's not normal, anyway, and Bucky just wants to wrap her up and never let her go. He can't do that, though, and it breaks his heart.

"Well, I'm gonna take care of you. Seems like you haven't had a lot of that lately."

Ducking her head slightly, Natasha gave a soft shrug. "Not really, no." Offhand, attempting to be casual. "It's always been just me, taking care of me." She tried a nonchalant smile, but it was marred by her split lip.

"It's rather a pathetic story, and please don't think I'm trying to garner any pity at all, but I was a foster kid until I was about seventeen. Graduated in the top five of my high class, though. Then it was grants and scholarships, but at least I made it to college."

Her mild humor sobered, a little. "Then I met Alex, and the world seemed wide open. He was a brash young lieutenant, I was just getting into business management. Seemed perfect, right?" Natasha gave a soft snort. "I guess I should have taken the hint, being together for seven years and still 'dating'."

"Marriage isn't for everyone," Bucky says, trying to comfort her. "But it doesn't seem like that relationship was good for you based on what I'm seeing right now. Was he always like that? Did he ever hit you before?"

Bucky's aware these are questions that might be prying and painful but he wants to know how long this has been going on and why no one has ever helped her before. He would have helped from the first if he'd just known.

Natasha's mouth twitched wryly. "It's certainly not for me, apparently." But she wasn't going to start a pity party for herself. "It wasn't all bad," she told him, shrugging lightly. "Not at the first. We did have a lot of fun, or we used to. And no, he's never hit me before." Then her expression fell further.

"He's always under stress. That's not an excuse, and I know that, but I guess...I guess I can understand. I don't know where his paranoia comes from, because I don't have time to have an affair with anyone, considering how much I work. We're both workaholics," she told Bucky, tucking her socked feet beneath her in the chair.

And she laughed, but the sound was dry and hollow. "And I barely have any friends. How could I go about having a lover?"

"To be fair, I kissed you in the apartment you shared with him," Bucky points out. "But you...that was an accident and it was probably very inappropriate of me to do. I shouldn't have been going after you to begin with. But stress isn't a reason to hurt you, Natasha."

Bucky has stress too, from time to time, and he's never wanted to be violent toward someone. He'd only gotten in the fight at the bar because he was drunk and it'd never happened before and won't happen again.

"Before this happened, though - did you want to be with him? Did you still like it?"

Natasha shook her head. "That...that shouldn't have happened, you're right, but that doesn't have anything to do with it." She sighed, rubbing her forehead. "I don't know. I...wish I did, James. I wish this all made sense."

She fell silent for a bit, mulling over the question.

"I guess...it's more a habit, now, than anything else. It's easy to fall into that well, just accept things rather than work to change them. And with Alex, at least I wasn't alone, I guess? But, I think...I think whatever was actually between us...it died a while ago, and I just missed it. Too busy, probably. The both of us."

"You deserve to be with someone who cherishes you," Bucky says. He doesn't rush to add that he wants to be that person and could be that person because he doesn't know that it would be helpful right now but he wishes that he could be. He knows that he'd take better care of her than Alex, clearly - he's already doing that.

"You deserve better and you have for a long time. I'm sorry it came to all of this for the break to happen."

Her return smile was a bit polite, a little indulgent. Mainly because she thought he was just being overly flattering. It seemed to be in keeping with what she'd learned of him, however.

"That's sweet to say, James," she told him then, single gaze warm. "I appreciate it, really." But clearly it was time to change the subject; and she really was hungry.

"Would you mind dishing us up?" She held out a hand, level with the floor. "My nerves are still a little shaky, yet."

"Oh, yeah, sure."

Bucky thinks he should have done this well before now, actually, so he's a little guilty when he starts spooning things out on plates. He makes sure to give Natasha more dumplings than himself and gives her a little grin.

"Yeah? Did I give you the correct dumpling ratio?"

Natasha watched quietly as her host served them both, smiling at his quip about the dumplings. "I think that'll be fine," she told him with a soft smile, immediately spearing one with her fork and taking a generous bite. "Mmm, delicious," she purred after swallowing the mouthful. Then aimed another soft smile in his direction. "Thank you, James."

The rest of the food was wonderful, too, or else she really was hungry. But Natasha managed to eat most of what was on her plate, settling back with a warm drink after pushing away her plate. The sun was setting over the Pacific, and the horizon was beautiful.

"Is there anything else you need? My sister's going to come over tomorrow and take you out for some stuff so you're not using my shampoo and shit. I know I'm into hair products but I don't think you want to smell like my soap."

Bucky kind of likes the idea of it, honestly, but he keeps that little bit to himself. He doesn't need to burden Natasha with that.

"I'm going to write tomorrow down in the studio anyway. Carol's coming over to work on a new song with me but she'll be down to shop afterward."

The shopping spree, in actuality, spanned the next several days, culminating in Becca Barnes and Carol Danvers ushering a continuously-protesting Natasha Romanoff into every single shop in Beverly Hills. They also took the petite redhead to the Ingelwood precinct and provided moral and sisterly support while she quietly filed charges against her former boyfriend for assault and battery. There would be a court date, and pictures of Natasha's bruised face were entered into evidence, as well as her testimony, which Bucky Barnes was good enough to corroborate, thankfully as a veiled but reliable witness.

After that, the ladies all but vanished, disappearing into Los Angeles with Bucky's credit card and no limits. Every day that week, Natasha returned with oodles of new bags, boxes, parcels, gifts, shoes, dresses, jewelry, and other accessories guaranteed to satisfy a lady's feminine heart. She'd opted to reside at the guest house, and her closet was already full to overflowing, requiring the second bedroom to host clothing racks, shoe trollys, and jewelry boxes.

She did take half of a day to check in with her secretary; Alice reported that yes, Mr. Shostakov had been urgently trying to get in touch, but she hadn't known Natasha's whereabouts nor had Natasha answered any of her messages. Filling her in on the happenings, Natasha advised Alice that she would be taking an extended, much needed, sabbatical, and gave the secretary a generous bonus, as well as two-weeks fully paid vacation, and closed up her business for the time being.

Friday evening, after Becca and Carol had deposited her and their haul back in Malibu and bid her farewell, Natasha headed up to the main house, shared kisses and hugs with Brooklyn, who happily escorted her into the bright, spacious kitchen, where she spied a familiar dark head just closing the refrigerator, his arms full of what seemed to be leftovers.

"Hi," Natasha said with a soft smile, sliding atop a barstool and resting her elbows on the island's marble top. "Leftovers for supper?" A wry eyebrow rose. "Sounds like a perfect idea."

"Well, I could cook or order in but I didn't prepare for the former and we've got leftovers so..."

Yes, he has the means to have people cook for him. Yes, he likes doing it himself instead. When it's just him, there's no point in having someone cook for him all the time so he usually will do for himself a night or two a week especially if he's by himself and has no guests.

"You wanna just eat in here? We could go to the dining room but that table's kind of huge and the room echoes."

"Sure." Natasha didn't mind eating in the kitchen in the slightest. Before, she'd actually taken most meals either in her home study, or on the couch with her laptop, or standing in her own kitchen, eating while she scrolled through emails on her phone. Eating with someone was a brand new novelty.

"Before we eat, though," she began, hesitating slightly, then deciding to just go with it, "...I...have something for you."

She placed a small black box on the island, wrapped in a bright blue ribbon, and slowly slid it towards the opposite side. "It's a 'thank you', of sorts." A shrug. "...for being so kind to me. When you didn't have to."

"I don't need presents," Bucky says, lifting a hand. Still, she's given him something and when he opens it, he's quiet for a moment. It's a pendant and it looks like ivy over stone, weirdly enough, and he's touched that she would look for such a thing and buy it for him.

"Oh...I don't think anyone has ever given me anything like this before. Let me put it on."

It takes him a moment to get it out of the box and get it on but once he does, he realizes it's long enough not to get tangled up on him so he can wear it all the time.

"Thank you, Natasha. It's perfect."

"I'd hoped you'd like it," she told him, more than a little shyly. "And contrary to your sister's shenanigans, this came out of my savings, so it's legitimately from me, to you." The pendant looked nice against his dark-colored t-shirt, gleaming its silver in the fading sunlight. "It looks good on you, James."

She hadn't really known how to repay his kindness, the clothes, the shoes, all of it. And shopping for others had never really been her strong suit. She simply didn't have many to shop for.

"You're welcome," Natasha said quietly, a true smile lighting her face. Her lip had almost healed, the rest of her face no longer bruised or discolored. "I wanted...to give you something that was just between us."

"I'll keep it like a promise," Bucky says, leaning in and brushing his mouth against hers lightly before pulling away. He'd done it automatically, like it was something they did all the time, and now he wonders if he ought to have done it. It seems like it might not have been appropriate.

"I know this is going to sound like a stupid question but is there anything else you need? You want a car? I've got like twenty down there you can pick from if you wanna go get yourself a new ride. It's not like I can drive them all at once anyway."

The soft kiss made her blush, but Natasha didn't refuse it. It was sweet, and she was so very hungry for affection, almost starved for it. Gently braiding her fingers together as they rested on the island's counter, trying to get her heartbeat back under control.

Then Bucky offered her a car, and Natasha just blinked at him. Before automatically shaking her head, and demurring the offer. "Oh, James, I couldn't do that. Thank you, of course, but that's just too much. Considering everything else you've done for me."

An idea occurred to her just then, and she offered it before thinking it through. "Instead of eating in here, how about making a picnic in front of the fireplace? It's chilly enough, especially if we leave the bay doors open." She couldn't stop a giggle from escaping at that thought.

"You know what? That sounds like a great idea," Bucky says, laughing softly. He's never done that with anyone in this house but Natasha makes it sound fun in the way a picnic on the beach would have been fun when he was in high school or some shit. It's sweet. He likes it.

Bucky busies himself with picking up the dishes and nods at Natasha. "Go ahead and get comfortable in there and I'll haul all this stuff in. We'll have a good time. There's a throw blanket on the chair in there."

Natasha didn't stop to analyze her odd offer as she headed to the living room and began to arrange the blankets and pillows on the plush carpet in front of the large marble fireplace. She was...simply tired of being alone all of the time; even if her relationship with Alex hadn't been the most stellar, at least someone else had been there.

And Bucky Barnes was sweet, sincere, and kind; there was no way to even begin to deny that. He'd proven himself to be a good friend, one of the best, considering, and she was willing to ignore this ill-timed attraction that had only grown since she'd 'moved in' just over a week ago. It wasn't important, but their friendship was.

By the time her host appeared in the living room, she had the soft blanket spread neatly in a perfect rectangle, and the comfortable couch pillows strategically arranged so that they might lounge in comfort, and had done so herself, although she did uncoil to take a few burdens out of his hand, chuckling at his effort to keep everything from collapsing completely.

"Goodness," the redhead remarked, placing the chips, salsa, and leftover dumpling carton on the floor before taking more, "I think you've emptied the fridge entirely, Barnes."

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