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"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."

"Well, I didn't know what we'd want," Bucky says, grinning at her. "So I just brought a little of everything in case we needed it."

No one needs this much food but Bucky wants to make sure that Natasha always has everything she wants whether it's food or love or clothes - she deserves it.

"Is there anything else you want?"

"Champagne," she replied without thinking, automatically placing the containers and cartons in an informal buffet array on the blanket. Then glanced up, blowing a lock of red hair out of her face. "If there's a bottle already cold in the refrigerator."

Brooklyn arrived just then, enticed by the scents of half-warmed leftovers, and Natasha laughed as she shared a thick slice of ham with the pup, ruffling his ears and pulling the dog into her lap while he munched. "And a few utensils, unless we want to eat with our fingers."

"Forks and champagne, got it." Luckily, there is a bottle of champagne in the fridge and Bucky is more glad about that than he's been about anything lately. He brings the utensils out with champagne glasses and the bottle and pours them both a glass before settling down. He passes one to Natasha.

"You better not be feeding him people food. He'll never leave you alone if you do," he says, laughing softly. "You'll be his new best friend and he'll move out and leave me."

Bucky takes a sip from his champagne and he's glad it's the good stuff and not what he buys in bulk for parties. Natasha deserves the best.

By the time Bucky returned, Natasha had stripped all of the remaining ham off of the small bone and given that to Brooklyn, who was parked in front of Bucky's recliner, gnawing away happily, tail thumping. The redhead laughed lightly, taking the offered glass with a smile.

"He deserves to be spoiled," she told the musician, sipping from her glass. "A little spoiling never hurt anyone." She could testify to that, after all.

She made small sandwiches from crackers, meat, and sliced cheese, scooting back against the pillows as they ate. "This is nice. I can't remember the last time I had a picnic." A chuckle. "Even if it is inside."

"I don't think I've had a picnic since I was a kid. My parents used to let us pop a tent in the backyard and stay outside like we were camping. It was pretty great for the suburbs."

Bucky had gone to camp, of course, but that was a lot different than getting to hang out with just his sisters and friends. This feels a little more like that except it's a beautiful woman and not someone he's related to. He sees Natasha making little sandwiches of her crackers and starts doing the same thing.

"Is it bad I want you to stay forever? Not just in the guest house either. In my house."

She knew he'd grown up in the city, like her, the older brother to several younger sisters. Mind-boggling, sisters. As far as she knew, Natasha had been an only child, or at least no one had ever told her she had a sibling anywhere. No siblings, no parents. They'd grown up in such different ways.

"That sounds like fun," Natasha remarked, polishing off the last bite of her second small sandwich. After a pause, mainly to collect her thoughts after his last comment, she took another fortifying sip of champagne, and shook her head.

"...not really, I don't think. No, James, it's not bad." She had to concede, "...a little weird, maybe, but not bad." A small laugh. "Aside from the last month or so, we really don't know each other, do we."

"I mean, you could make that argument," Bucky says, tilting his head a little to look at her with a bit of assessment. "But the heart wants what it wants. And I wanna know you."

Bucky drinks from his glass again and decides the best thing to do is keep his mouth occupied with food before he says another stupid thing to Natasha and makes her think that he's just going to trail after her until she gives in or something. She doesn't need that and least of all from him.

"It doesn't have to be feelings. I can...stop. It'll take a while but if you don't want it, I'll kill it. I just want you to be happy."

Natasha didn't think she had energy, or the heart, herself, to handle the "feelings" part of the conversation. Her own heart was too damaged, too numb, and it wasn't fair to lead the man on, but...wasn't there something? A spark, buried beneath the ashy landscape of her soul? Was she alive from the neck down, still?

"What do you want to know?" A safe response, she thought. Setting her plate aside, Natasha pulled up her knees to wrap her arms around them, resting her chin on a knee, then tilting her head to blink over at him. "My life isn't really all that interesting, James, sad to say. But I'll answer what I can, if you want to ask."

"Well, where did you grow up? Around here or in the middle of nowhere or on the east coast? What about your parents, your siblings, all of that stuff. You know everything about me and I know nothing about you so it's time to do some of that sharing shit. Friends do that, you know. Just friends."

And more than friends but Bucky has to keep a lid on that, especially now but possibly forever. She'd bought him a necklace but that might just be a friends thing. They'd shared a kiss but that was probably a mistake on her part. She'd slept in his bed but that was for comfort, right? Nothing else.

"Any of that stuff? I'll take favorite ice cream flavor too."

Of course. Of course, he'd want to know about her past. Her background. Her story. Natasha stifled a sigh, feeling her professional mask slide into place again, along with that same elegant but frozen smile.

"Well, I grew up here in Los Angeles," she began, in a quiet tone. "The earliest memory I have is living at the Harmony Valley Girls Home down around Sunset. Nothing before that." A brief pause, then she continued. "No parents, no siblings, at least, none that I know of. I was fostered out when I turned eleven, then moved from this home to that one, and finally struck out on my own at sixteen."

She didn't add that she'd left due to the leering advances of her then-foster father.

"Didn't get too far, but a friend of mine from school let me crash at her place for a few months, then I...fell in, I guess, with a rough crowd. I was small, and pretty, and an excellent lookout for those 'clandestine activities' teenagers are always involved in, but I was also smart, and managed to scrounge enough to graduate with honors, fourth in my senior class."

Natasha stopped there, took another long drink of crisp champagne, and resumed her narrative. "Won a few scholarships to college, where I studied business and business management, then I met Alex my sophomore year, and got my degree, and moved in with him not long after that." She ended on a mild little shrug. "The rest has all been work, really. Building my professional portfolio." Her lips twisted wryly. "Missing out on life. That sort of thing."

Trying to lighten things, she did add, "Chocolate. Is my favorite ice cream, though."

It's so different from his life and it's a lot to take in so Bucky's just quiet for a moment as he puts together the pieces of what makes up Natasha. He's never known a life without family around him and it seems that Natasha had gone from loneliness to loneliness because even if the relationship with Alex was good at some point, it sure as shit wasn't now.

He feels...not sorry for her, she's made something of herself and arguably more than what he's done with himself, but he doesn't think someone as smart and vibrant as Natasha should be missing out on life when she could have it right now.

"My favorite's chocolate too. I've never lived with a woman. Nobody serious enough. I went to college though, did you know that? Mechanical engineering. I'm not just a tattooed idiot who smashes up bars."

"I did know that, actually." She smiled at him. But it was sterile, still. "You have a bachelor's in engineering. And Mr. Wilson said you would have gone on for your Masters, had your debut album not launcher your amazing music career." Natasha stretched out her legs, propping her elbow on the couch behind her, and her head on a hand.

"You and Steve went to the same school, yes? You two have been friends since you were toddling. That's amazing. I can hardly imagine having so many memories with a friend like that." No wonder he'd taken those insults to Rogers so badly. Natasha could imagine she might do the same, if pressed.

"From daycare to the Army," Bucky says, laughing a little. "Can't keep us apart. I keep offering to buy him a house in the little neighborhood here but he says he can't afford to keep the lights on with a teacher's salary so he lives in Encino in someone's guest house and keeps the lady's maintenance done for a break on the rent. Better man than me."

Bucky drums his fingers against his knee for a moment, nervous. "As for me, I like math, but I like the guitar a little more. Look, before this album comes out - you know it's about you and me and I need to know if that's ok. If it bothers you, I'll scrap it and do something else. I've got other songs in the usual style and we can just put together what we always do. It's just that once it's out, it'll be everywhere and any time you hear it, you'll know it's about you and it might be embarrassing or something to have some guy be pathetic over you to the point where he's releasing entire albums about it. I don't want to Taylor Swift this thing, you know?"

His earnestness was touching. Natasha sighed again, this time in mildly bemused exasperation, and shook her head, smile turning fond.

"James," she told him, reaching out to touch fingertips to the back of one tattooed hand, "the album is fine. I promise. I love the songs you wrote. ...even if they are about me. And you. ...and you-and-me. No one else knows that, right?" As long as no one else knew, she was fine with him releasing it.

"It won't embarrass me. I love that it sparked such creativity for you. And this sort of music was something you'd been wanting to do, yes?"

"The band just thinks it was someone I made up, that the whole thing is made up," Bucky says. "That it's not even me, it's just some imaginary couple. Well, Carol thinks it's a real person I'm in love with but she sure as shit doesn't think it's you. She just thinks I've been secretly dating someone and not spilling and it's driving her insane."

Bucky closes his eyes and sighs a little. "I'm just gonna sing them and be thinking about you and you have to hear that and know that every time, that's all. I wanted to do this and it sounds so genuine because it's real. You're driving me insane and I've got to get over it. You need a friend, not me. You've got your own shit to worry about and me being in love with you is the last thing you should have to deal with. I tried to stop when I knew you had a boyfriend but you needed me. You needed me and I came running because I always will. Besides, you couldn't even take me anywhere. I'm completely the kind of guy they kick out of the parties you get invited to."

The last part is a joke because he just has to get over this. If he can get it out tonight with his tongue loosened by alcohol he can just put it in a box and never open it again.

It was hard, hearing all of this. Hard, because she couldn't tell him no, she couldn't say that she didn't feel anything for him, either. Problem was, Natasha didn't know what she felt. She knew that she'd been mesmerized when he'd kissed her, back in her old apartment, and that he'd made her laugh more than once, and that he had the gentlest, kindest soul she'd ever witnessed in a person, anywhere.

Was it so wrong to be attracted to all of that? Was it?

"...it was wrong of me to call you," Natasha heard herself say, the logical part of her swirling brain kicking in. "Knowing how you feel." She wrapped her arms around herself, tucking her feet beneath her once again. Then she bit her lower lip, gently, and shook her head.

"But I'm glad that I did, James," she said then, sincerely. "I really didn't have anywhere else to go...and I was so afraid..." A soft sigh. "I...I don't know what's happening between us. It's confusing, especially right now, talking about it, and...and I don't really know how to handle...all of this...but, I do know that...I like you? More than I should?" Green eyes met blue.

"Maybe...maybe more than I should...?"

"Yeah? Surprises me a little," Bucky admits. "Because you know, you're so...put together. Nothing rattles you. I mean, you were rattled the night I came and got you but anyone would be."

He's rambling and he knows it so he just closes the gap between them and kisses her instead. The last time he'd kissed her had been at her old place when he'd played a song for her and it'd just happened but this time he's making a logical choice to do this. Alcohol makes him bold and he already has his heart on his sleeve.

So he kisses her, because doing this is so much easier than fumbling around with words and saying stupid things that just make the whole situation more and more awkward.

She started to demur, to protest that perspective, but before she could, Bucky leaned forward and kissed her. Again. And Natasha knew she should shove him away and leave, make her exit before things got any more confusing, but instead one of her hands moved to touch his cheek, then slide through his eternally-tousled hair, as if to hold him right where he was.

Against her common sense, her lips parted, and she melted into his kiss, a soft, whimpered moan escaping as Bucky's mouth moved over hers. She had plenty of leeway to withdraw, to resist, but damn it, she'd been that unassailable pillar for far too long. Seven years of a loveless relationship had dimmed something within her, and, bless him, Bucky had crashed into her world and sparked it again alight.

He tasted of the champagne they'd shared, and somewhere, Natasha knew that if she were fully sober, she'd end it right here, but for once in her life, she ignored all logic and just resolved herself to feel.

Natasha hadn't pushed him away so Bucky keeps going, breaking the kiss only to breathe a little and finding her lips again and again. She's wearing some soft little sweater thing, no doubt something his money had bought on the infinite shopping spree she'd gone on with the girls, and he slides his palm under it to rest against her ribs.

"Look, just give me one night, okay? You never have to look at me after this. Just tonight and then I'll walk away if that's what you want. I promise."

It's probably unfair of him to even ask for the one night, honestly, but he wants it all the same. He wants to be able to have this one memory to hold before she walks out of his life for good.

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