ostavil | open post

"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.

The touch of his hand to her bare skin made her shiver. It was such a foreign sensation, touch. Alex scarcely touched her. And never had he kissed her so reverently, almost worshipfully. The fevered whispered request smoked in her ears; was he serious? Natasha's eyes blinked open, brow furrowed, a little confused about what he actually meant.

Then it hit her, and color flooded her cheeks. "--James..." It seemed incredibly unfair, to take advantage of him that way, and she wanted to bolt up and out of the house, flee a thousand miles away, at least until she could get him out of her mind. Forever, if Fate was kind.

But Fate wasn't, alas, because instead of answering yes or no, she simply closed her eyes and kissed him again, this time twining both of her arms around his neck and swaying into his embrace, not really knowing what she wanted, only that this felt too right to stop.

The kiss seems like a yes and Bucky falls into it for a minute or two before breaking away and looking into her eyes. He doesn't get too far away, too happy to be wrapped up in her arms, but just enough.

"I need a yes," he says, just wanting to be sure. "I don't want to hurt you because I didn't ask."

He's not so drunk yet that he's beyond asking permission and he kisses her forehead while he waits for the words. "Couldn't live with myself."

She couldn't untie her tongue. Couldn't make herself say it. It was so unlike her, to just let go and let emotion rule her actions. She'd kept that part of herself hidden away, smothered under the concrete and brittle smiles of California, and all which was required to make it in such a place.

Yet, Bucky had, hadn't he. And Natasha knew first hand that James Barnes didn't hold back much at all.

Emboldened in the smallest sense, the petite redhead gently propped her chin on Bucky's shoulder, took a deep breath, and released it with all permissions given. Her embrace tightened, just a fraction. And her voice trembled, but it was whispered clearly enough to be heard, understood.

"...yes."

"God, I love you."

It's the stupidest thing he's ever done, this, but Bucky can't stop now that he has permission and the haze of alcohol urging him on. He tugs off her sweater and tosses it back over the couch before tossing his shirt in vaguely the same direction. He leans in to kiss her again while he unfastens her bra and once he has it off, he eases Natasha back against the pillows and blankets on the floor.

"You're my first thought and my last thought," he murmurs, moving his lips along her neck and collarbone. He has to take his time since he'll never get another chance. He has to be able to remember it.

Natasha's stomach gave an involuntary lurch, hearing that, but she had no time at all to respond. Her sweater vanished; she squeaked as the fabric whisked over her head, disappearing somewhere across the living room, and before her stunned brain could catch up, Bucky kissed her again, shirtless himself, and she felt decidedly male fingers working at the snap of her bra, tugging the silken elastic a little harshly before it came undone.

Nor did she have time to be modest or shy, because her bare back met the soft blanket she'd spread out for their picnic, and James was looming over her, dark head bent to her throat and those soft, soft lips reverently moving over her sensitive skin. Natasha shivered, instinctively tilting her head to give him more, and her hands found their way into his hair, dreamily threading through the thick dark strands.

She thought she made some sound or noise, but it was whisper-soft in her ears, a girlish little mew. The fire was warm on her bare skin, Bucky's hands and mouth more so, and Natasha felt adrift on entirely new sensations, hardly sure which to focus upon first.

"I want to mark every inch of you so you're mine for a night," Bucky murmurs. He moves his lips lower, kissing between her breasts before kissing along the full curve of the right one. He slips his left hand up to cup the other and just loses himself for a moment in just pleasuring her. He has the sense that Natasha hasn't had a lot for herself in life and this should be about her right now. Even if he only gets this, it's enough.

He exhales softly just above her nipple before bending his head to kiss her there too, sucking with just the barest bit of pressure before pulling away and moving his mouth somewhere else. He keeps coming back, quicker and quicker, and listens for the little noises that she'd been making earlier.

She could tell him to stop right now and it would be enough.

She felt drunk, and not entirely from the champagne. Everywhere Bucky touched, her skin seemed to come alight, as if it wasn't used to a touch that wasn't her own. Accurate, really. Alex had never really taken time with this sort of thing, made it a priority to pleasure her, instead of focusing on his own. And Natasha, not knowing, hadn't protested.

Those little noises didn't stop, quick gasps of breath with just the smallest sound, as her voice was going high and tight the further he went. Squirming beneath him, Natasha rubbed her legs together, needing some sort of friction to keep her from going entirely insane. Bucky was heavy, on top of her, but his weight wasn't stifling, or restrictive; if anything, it kept her from floating right out of her mind.

Her back arching as he suckled at her, Natasha tossed her head, long curls flailing across the strewn pillows, and somehow managed to choke out, "--J-James..." before giving a long, low whine, not sure if she should even dare ask for more.

Bucky kisses her breast for a moment longer before moving his lips lower, raining kisses down along her abdomen and low beneath her navel. She's still wearing pants and he doesn't move to take them off. Instead, he kisses his way up her left side and back to her other breast to give it the same treatment.

When she says his name, he feels warmth run all through him. She's clearly turned on and it feels good to know he can do that for her even when she's come out of a bad relationship.

"You deserve to be worshipped so I'm at your altar," he murmurs. It's probably too poetic for this but he can't help himself.

That particular line sounded like one of his song lyrics, she wanted to say, but for some odd reason, the words just wouldn't make it past her lips. Natasha whimpered instead, lost amid all the different sensations roiling beneath her skin. This was so odd, being the sole focus of a man's unswerving attention; she idly found herself wondering what else she'd missed over the course of her tepid relationship with the Air Force pilot.

The blanket was soft beneath her, the fire warm beside, and James nice and thick above her; Natasha drifted on a hazy sea, too lost to protest, or even reciprocate. She did manage to whisper his name again, lashes fluttering as he moved over her bare skin. Delicate hands rested on his shoulders, following him as he moved over her, and quite of its own volition, one lean still-clad leg rose to curve around Bucky's thigh, growing more eager as they went on.

When Natasha wraps her leg around him, Bucky smiles against her skin and rolls the tip of his tongue around her nipple to stiffen it. It's important to him to make her feel good and it's more important to do this than anything else. He could be fine doing just this and not doing anything else with her.

He wants, though. Oh, he wants.

He lifts his head from her breast and smiles at her, slow and warm. He gives these smiles to her so easily and it feels so natural to be good to her. Who could hurt her?

"I want more. Is that all right?"

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