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"Your toes will freeze," Bucky says, grinning at her. "Can't have that. Don't know how we'll warm 'em back up again. Besides, I haven't driven this car in a long time. It needs to stretch a little before I go home. You have to do that or they have issues with everything."

Bucky gives Natasha a look, openly appraising. She looks good and she always does but this little number does a lot for him.

"Socks when you get back," he says, deciding the beach walk would be nice. "Get your toes all warm again. Stick 'em in front of my fireplace."

"My toes will be just fine," Natasha smiled back, appreciating the silly humor. "I'll just make sure to stay out of the water, that's all." She wasn't so fragile as to freeze to death from a little walk on the cool sand in the afternoon sunshine. "But yeah, I'm taking tomorrow off, so curling up in front of the fireplace sounds like a great idea."

Then he mentioned the car, and her mouth melted in a soft little smile.

"I love this car," she mentioned, rubbing the dashboard reverently. "The Portafino has been one of my favorites forever, it seems like." Then she chuckled, shaking her head lightly. "But it's always been way out of my price range. And my job speaks to a more tailored mode of transportation, which is why I went for the Mercedes." A mild shrug.

"But there's something really appealing about all that power under the hood, too. Like it could fly, if it had the chance."

"You wanna drive 'er back home? Cause I got the keys and everything, imagine that. Shit, if I knew you liked this car, I would have let you take it forever ago. I barely drive it because it's a special occasions kind of car. It's my date car."

Annnnd he'd gone to pick her up in distress in it so he doesn't know what that says about him or the situation.

"I bought this baby so I could fly around curves on it. It's a pretty sexy car, all told, and my favorite color. C'mon, lets go for a walk and then when we're done you can drive back."

Natasha laughed, humor truly piqued. "Really? I'd love to." Just the thought of sliding into that leather driver's seat was enough to evaporate most of her sour mood, and it was a smiling redhead that pulled off her heels and swung bare legs out and onto the sand-dusted concrete.

"It is a sexy car," Natasha told Bucky, coming around the front of it to walk beside him. "Just the right color too, because it matches your eyes." Which were still shielded behind the glasses, but she didn't need to actually see them to know.

It was Thursday, and in the middle of the afternoon, so the public stretch of beach wasn't at all crowded, and there was plenty of room between the levy and the water to walk. Natasha kept her hands in her sleeves, idly wondering if any paparazzi might show up before they made it back to the car.

The paparazzi aren't out today, luckily, because there's just enough of a breeze to keep them off the beach and even though his car is distinctive, it's just not worth the effort. Bucky is pretty glad for that because he doesn't get to do a lot of private things when he's out in public.

"Matches my eyes? Ms. Romanoff, I believe you complimented me. I'm gonna have to write that in my diary for today," he teases, flashing her a broad grin. Maybe he shouldn't be flirting since they decided to just be friends but he just can't help himself where she's concerned. He looks at her and he's filled with aching want no matter how much he's tried to push that away.

"So he just showed up like nothing ever happened? Whatever possessed him to do that shit?"

"I did," was out before she could bite it back, wind tossing a few stray curls across her face. "Are you keeping score, Mr. Barnes?" Then Natasha abruptly shut up, realizing that falling into that easy, flirtatious camaraderie was dangerous, now.

She cleared her throat lightly, pulling her hair back out of her eyes, thankful for the different segue. They were moseying slowly along the shoreline, and Natasha dug her big toe into the sand before answering the question about Alex.

"Yeah. It's par for the course, really." She sighed, gazing down the beach. "He's always been like that. After a fight, he goes distant for a day or so, then comes back around all smiles and sweetness, like nothing happened at all. Like the argument didn't even exist. Like he did nothing wrong." Her brows lowered, lips set. "And I hate that."

Then she snorted. "--he even had the audacity to tell me that I'd made my point, and it was time for me to come back home."

"Except he hit you and there's no going back," Bucky says, voice rising a bit in anger. He isn't angry at Natasha, not at all, but he wants to dismember Alex and bury him on this beach so no one will ever hear from him again. Unfortunately, that's not possible.

"You gonna get that restraining order? Cause I think that's where you are at this point, if you want my advice."

And she might not. He's been nosy enough in the time that she's come to stay with him and there's Carol's voice in the back of his head warning him to stay the fuck away from Natasha.

"I know," Natasha replied, ducking her head. The memory of her black eye and split lip still hurt, whenever she thought about it. A sigh. "I told him if I saw him again, I'd have him arrested. And if that happens, then I definitely will get the restraining order. But he's not really a bad guy, James. He's not."

To keep him from quietly seething over her former boyfriend, Natasha unthinkingly took Bucky's left arm with her right, trying to share a modicum of calm.

"He just...does stupid things sometimes, without thinking about it. Stupid, bad things." She kept her eyes on the beach ahead. "I did love him, you know, a long time ago. I'm...not entirely sure when I stopped...I guess I just forgot how."

"Natasha. A man who hits a woman is pretty much the definition of a bad guy. That's like...crossing a line, okay? He assaulted you. That's not a decent man," Bucky argues. "Like, me? I can get angry as hell sometimes. I would never in a million years hit a woman. Maybe I'll rack up an assault charge on some asshole in a bar but if I got mad at you I'd yell maybe and just leave. I wouldn't ever hit you because I like to think of myself as a good guy."

Bucky rubs the bridge of his nose for a second and he's glad, real glad, that he's wearing sunglasses.

"You deserve better, you know? If you wanna be in a relationship with someone, he shouldn't hit you and he shouldn't pretend like everything's okay when it isn't. You deserve to be loved, Natasha, and love whoever it is right back. That guy doesn't deserve you and probably never did."

"I know, I know. I know that." Natasha gave Bucky's bicep a squeeze, rolling her eyes in mild exasperation. "I guess I'm just...trying to find the good in it. But you're right. And I know that; you don't have to keep reminding me."

She huffed a sigh, suddenly weary of the entire subject. "I'm not going back to him, James, trust me on that. But he's not one to let go of anything, either. I'll deal with it, when I have to. I'm hoping - against hope, really, but still - he'll just go away quietly, but if he doesn't, then I'll handle him."

Another brief squeeze. "But I don't want you getting any move involved in it, because it's not your fight, and it's not important enough to risk your reputation over. Again. I'm truly thankful for everything you've helped me with, but I'm not going to ask you to fight my battles for me, James." She did give him a soft smile.

"I am a big girl, you know."

"I would ruin myself a million little times for you, Natasha." It's a lyric in a song she hasn't heard yet but she doesn't have to know that. Not right now. Still, he sighs and tips his head back before saying anything else. She's right even if he wants to charge in and handle it for her.

"I mean that. But it's not gonna be that way because we're keeping my rep squeaky clean and clear of arrests. You gotta admit, at least I got arrested for a good cause."

There. Maybe he can make her laugh and clear the awkward away.

Although her expression darkened when once again, she heard that insane declaration of his feelings for her, but the levity was appreciated. It helped lighten her gaze, and curve the corners of her lips just a little.

"Yes. We are definitely keeping your reputation clear. Absolutely squeaky clean." She huffed another sigh, red curls tossed by the ocean breeze. "God, you have no idea how much tearing around I had to do on your behalf, Bucky Barnes, to make sure the press was happy with you again."

Then she smirked, quietly amused. "But you being so photogenic and vivacious helped quite a bit, too."

"They say I have good bone structure, whatever the fuck that means," Bucky says. "But yeah, apparently I take good pictures. Clint and Erik give me shit for it all the time and say I'm prettier than Carol but I take offense to that. Carol's gorgeous."

Bucky shrugs a bit. "But I guess it does help when you're doing the PR song and dance. You don't work for me anymore, do you?"

Bucky vaguely remembers Sam saying that but he's not absolutely certain on it. If they're not in a business relationship, it kind of makes a personal one more on the up and up.

No doubt about that; Carol Danvers was a tall, busty, platinum blonde with enough self-confidence to sink a battle cruiser. Just another woman that Bucky Barnes could have, which boggled Natasha even more than he didn't, and had been blindsided by her, of all obscure females in the world.

"No," she agreed. "Wilson signed off on the contract earlier this week. I'm officially off of your payroll as of this past Tuesday." Yet another weight off of her mind. "And I trust," she told him coolly, "that you won't need a PR lawyer for a good long, while."

This time, the squeeze was a poke.

"Right?"

"Sure as hell hope not. Hope that means you'll at least stick around, though. Kinda don't want you leaving if Alex is looming around doing this fucking idiocy. Who knows where he's gonna turn up next time. I don't get it but I guess I don't have to."

They're still arm in arm so Bucky squeezes her arm a little just to show that he cares. Maybe he shouldn't.

"But yeah, hoping I never need you in a work capacity ever again."

"Keep your nose clean and you won't," Natasha assured him, still willing to keep her arm in his as they walked along. "But I'll stay, for a while, at least. Until I can get my business back on its feet and procure a few more clients. It'd be stupid to pass up free-rent quarters, especially out here. And believe me, I'm grateful."

Time to talk about lighter things, and hopefully just enjoy each other's company.

"So Steve's coming by this weekend? Is there another backyard gathering in the works? It's been a while since the last one, hasn't it?"

"Weather permitting, another barbecue," Bucky says, laughing a little. "Got my Kiss the Cook apron and everything. Really hope we're gonna have our typical sunshine so I can show off the new duds. It'd be a shame if no one saw it because I can't really wear it in the house where only Anita would see it. Maybe you or Becca."

Bucky slides his arm around Natasha's waist and squeezes a little before sliding his arm back in hers.

"You gotta come, of course. You've been initiated into the family and it's a family tradition."

"Of course I will," Natasha laughed, envisioning the Bucky Barnes strutting around in that particular apron. "As long as your mom makes her famous potato salad, I'll absolutely be there." And she'd even beg Winnie Barnes to be able to take home the leftovers. If there were any.

"And you can sing for us," she added, "and play." She lightly bumped his hip with hers. "I might have a few requests, come to think of it." Because she loved to hear him sing. She did enjoy the band's music, but just listening to Bucky sing, without the amplifiers, or synthetics, or any artificial enhancements, was absolutely one of her guilty pleasures.

"Hopefully Steve will bring Dodger, so Brooklyn can have a playmate, too."

"Yeah? You got any favorites? I'll move 'em up on the set list just for you," Bucky teases. This is flirting on his end and it's painful that it won't ever go anywhere. It'll never go anywhere, he'll never have this, and it's not playing fair to let himself have a taste and know he'll never get to show his love to her.

"And yeah, Steve's bringing his dog. They'll be happy to play with one another. You should get a dog too, we'd have a little family of good boys to run around and cause mayhem whenever they get together. Dogs are great friends. They never tell your secrets or betray you."

This is a dangerous slope to climb.

"I do. I'll bring my list."

It was flirting, but so far, it was harmless. Gentle and light, and it did her battered and beaten heart a world of good. Just this easy camaraderie, it was what she craved. Nothing heavy, nothing too intense. It made it easy for her to reciprocate it, even though in the back of her mind, she knew she shouldn't; it was horribly unfair to start anything she wasn't sure she'd be able to go through with.

"Oh, I don't know if I'd be a good fur-mom. I work all the time, and I'm hardly settled in my own place. It wouldn't be fair to the little tyke, would it? And I can't foist anything else off on you, James. Maybe one day, though."

"I'm going to ask you something and it's hypothetical, okay? I'm not being pushy or intense or any of those weird things I tend to do, I'm just asking."

Bucky stops walking because he doesn't think he can ask this and walk at the same time. Too much brain function.

"If you hadn't been with him for so long, do you think you'd be interested in me? Like I said, it's a hypothetical. Because y'know, I'm a hopeful guy and I'm sitting in my studio writing all this shit the teenage girls are going to eat with a spoon but I know it's not real and it's never gonna be real. So if things were different and you met me first, could it have happened?"

Natasha paused when Bucky did, absently pushing tossed curls out of her face. The sudden change in the air around them put her on edge, slightly, and his next question revealed why. It took her aback, and Natasha couldn't really answer for a few moments.

When she did speak, it was hesitantly, slowly. "I...well." She looked out over the water, trying to find a response. "...I honestly don't see why it wouldn't have." And that was as honest as she could be. "You know I don't mind the tattoos and the image, James. I know that's not who you are. But..."

And there was always a "but", wasn't there. At least, she looked back at him.

"Back then, you and I were two entirely different people. So, I can't really say yes or no with absolute surety. But, to be perfectly honest...I'd give it very good odds."

"Then I'm sorry I was too late," Bucky says quietly. That's it, then. That's the definitive answer and he needs to just move on. He doesn't particularly want to date, not yet, but at least he knows that he'd missed his shot before he even met her. Nothing could be done about it.

"You wanna get back up to the car? I promised to let you drive it. We can speed. I think I can afford the ticket unless you're worried about that spotless record of yours."

Yes, moving on. That's what he needs to do.

The mood had definitely cooled, and Natasha felt a little...sad, that it had. But, disappointment was part of life, and she had to deal with the consequences of the choices she'd made. So she nodded silently, obligingly turning around and gently pulling away to walk back to the car. It wasn't fair to lead him on, and she'd better start checking herself to make sure she didn't cross those invisible lines.

Bucky did let her drive back to the house, and it was a thrill, dampened only by the heaviness she now sensed, and saw, in Bucky's hooded, guarded gaze. The following day, Natasha did spend it at the main house, as she'd promised she would, but she kept to the living room and kitchen, giving both Anita and Bucky plenty of space. She'd brought her laptop and a few books to keep her busy, and a few new arrivals brought her out of her novel in the late afternoon.

"Hi, Becca," Natasha said, looking up in a bit of surprise. "I thought the barbeque wasn't until tomorrow?"

"It is. Bucky's nursing a fucking hangover again so I was bringing over the tried and true Barnes cocktail to kill it. I should teach you how to make it if you ever have too much. It's pretty much guaranteed to always cure what ails you."

Becca shrugs. "You think I need to get him into rehab? You're the PR person so I figured you were the best person to ask but Bucky doesn't really drink like this and he's been doing it a lot. I'm a little concerned. Did he have someone die on him that we didn't know about?"

She's clueless as to what could have him in the bottle so ideas are welcome. "Did he break his favorite guitar?"

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