ostavil | open post

"You could be across the Pacific and it wouldn't be easier," Bucky says. It's pathetic of him and he knows it but he also knows it's true and he's nothing if not honest where Natasha is concerned. He's always been honest with her, ever since the beginning.

"I hate this. I want to be your friend so much I can taste it but my fucking feelings won't go away. I keep thinking about what I did wrong, what I could have done better, how I could have touched you and made that night go a different direction. It was the most amazing sex I've ever had because I was in love with you. I've never felt that before. And the idea that it didn't feel that way for you tears me into pieces."

He sighs and closes his eyes, tries to get his bearings. He feels like he wants to fucking cry and he is not doing that. Not in front of her.

"I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to make this awkward or hard for you. It's all my fault. It's my fault and I'm never going to forgive myself for it. Ever. I wanna sing those songs so fucking bad, I do, but I can't when I know they're gonna make it awful for you. I can't when I know you're going to feel awkward and terrible every fucking time you have to hear one of them because it's me being a dumbass yet again only it's over and over and over for an entire tour and a radio single and in a club and God knows where else. I could probably get through it for me and the band. It's my job. But I can't put you through it."

So Natasha moved out. That same weekend, actually. She hired a team of movers to relocate her furniture and belongings, not deigning to trouble any of the Barnes' for help; they'd all done more than enough for her. She found a modest single bedroom apartment in Claremont; it was a bit of a drive into the city to her office, but not too onerous, and she'd purchased a used sedan, mainly for its exceptional gas mileage and clean interior.

Then she threw herself into work, doing exactly what she'd said she planned to do if Alex Shostakov harassed her again; the next time he came to her office, she didn't even open the door. She had Alice call the police, then went downtown and filed that restraining order with no questions asked or excuses given. Becca still called, but Natasha kept their conversations brief; the sooner she could put all of them out of her mind, the better it would be for everyone.

And for almost six weeks, it seemed to work.

Until one afternoon, Natasha called Bucky's cell number and left a rather...odd message. Hi, James. It's Natasha. Listen, I need to talk to you. It's...it's very important. Please call me back as soon as you can.

Bucky's just...getting over it. He's trying not to drink himself to death and they're all working to the bone to write a new album which has pissed off his bandmates but it's gotta be done. The ballad experiment is over and now it's time to come back down to earth and do what they're good at. He'd been in the studio when she called and when he comes back and checks his phone, he blinks at it for a minute.

Why the fuck is Natasha calling him? He's supposed to be getting over her, not talking to her on the phone. Still, she'd said it was important, so he calls her back.

"I'm here for very important," he says, waiting on the line for whatever it is she needs or wants him for.

She didn't expect him to be happy to hear from her. Which was why she kept it brief, and aloof.

"Thanks for calling me back. I really need to...talk to you, but it isn't something I'm comfortable discussing over the phone. Would you mind meeting me somewhere? Private?" Very private. "Like, at the beach or...if you don't mind, I could come to your place. It won't take long, but...but I really need to talk to you, James."

It was horribly unfair to go back to his house, but this wasn't news for the rest of the world. Definitely not for the rest of the world, dear God.

"Uh, yeah, just come to the house. No one's here but me," Bucky says, utterly confused as to what she needs to talk to him about that can't be discussed over the phone and needs to be discussed in person and in private. Then he thinks about it. There's a court case pending on Alex.

"Is this about the last guy?" he asks, trying to be evasive. "Mr. Can't Take No For An Answer? Because I can come get you if that'd be better. Wouldn't be a problem for me to do that at all."

"What? Alex? Oh, no," Natasha negated, shaking her head even though he couldn't see her. "I followed your advise and got that restraining order in place. I haven't seen him in weeks, thank God." ]

She was already gathering up her purse and jacket as she talked. "No, I can be there in about an hour. It's not a problem, promise. Just...I really need to talk to you about this, so...bear with me, please." Not giving him a chance to protest or offer any other alternatives, Natasha hung up, and nearly held her breath the entire way up to Malibu.

When she arrived at the house, she was actually a little breathless, as she had been for the past few weeks, but at least now she knew why. The patio door was open, as usual, and the redhead stepped inside, peering around for Bucky.

"...James? You here?"

"Yeah, I'm here." Bucky frowns in concern because he has no idea what Natasha is so worried about if it's not Alex and why she'd come to him about it. What can he do about anything? Maybe she's his only male friend and she needs him to do something for her. Maybe. Actually he has no fucking idea.

There's the couch and chairs right in front of the fireplace and Bucky has that lit because that's where he'd been sitting while he was waiting on Natasha to get there. He gestures toward them.

"Take a seat and tell me what's going on? I admit, I'm getting a little freaked out."

Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, Natasha obligingly dropped into one of the comfortable chairs near the fire, relishing its cheery warmth. She waited for Bucky to join her, then began.

"Well, for the last week or so, I've been...sort of sick. Running a low grade fever, felt horribly nauseous, emotionally stressed out," though was that any surprise at all? "And been fighting back and forth with really bad indigestion." Another deep breath.

"So I went to see my doctor about it. They did some bloodwork, ran some tests, and...when she told me the results, James, I swear to God I fainted." She had, dead away on the exam table. And had felt more nauseous than ever when she finally came to and the truth sunk in.

"James," Natasha said seriously, hands on her knees and leaning forward to catch his gaze, "...I'm pregnant."

Okay. Of all the things he'd expected this very important thing to be, Bucky hadn't expected this. He wants to hit the roof in excitement but they're not in a relationship and Natasha doesn't want to be in one so he thinks he ought to be a little more...subdued.

"All right," he starts. "First off, whatever you're comfortable with comes first. I'm not carrying this kid. But I would be lying to you if I didn't say I was...I want to be a Dad, Natasha. I want this kid and I've known about it for like thirty seconds. You're not gonna want for anything. I'll take care of you guys forever, okay?"

But his family. Shit. Fuck. His family. Well, he'd better figure out what Natasha wants to do first.

Out of all of the reactions she'd imagined on the way over here, Natasha certainly hadn't thought about that one. She stared at him, nonplussed. And blinked. Twice.

"You're...you're not upset?" What? He wanted to be a father? "You...don't want to...well, to...get rid of it?" It was effort, untangling her tongue to keep from spluttering in surprise.

"...you're not...I mean...you don't have to put your name on it, if you don't want to, but...I wanted you to know... You're really not upset? Seriously?"

Natasha couldn't believe it.

"What the...I have always wanted to be a father," Bucky says, finally letting some excitement come into his voice about it. "So no, I don't want to get rid of this baby, I want this kid to be a Barnes, I want to do the whole thing. God, I'm trying to hold it down in case you're not into it but I am...over the moon about this. I want to shout it from the rooftops. There's just one thing, though."

Bucky goes over to her chair and kneels down, reaches for her hands.

"My family is really traditional and they're gonna blame me for this pregnancy no matter what we say. Everyone is going to scream at me for being irresponsible and my Mom is going to shove my grandma's ring into my hand and tell me to make you an honest woman. So before we go through that - what's your PR take? Because we've gotta deal with media. And I'm perfectly fine if it's just a marriage for legal reasons. I know you don't have feelings for me, I get it. But my parents and sisters won't let it rest until I give you my name. So what's the media gonna say?"

She was still staring at him, now down on his knees in front of her chair, her hands held in his. Brow furrowed, confusion writ all across her delicate features. But somehow, Natasha should have known it'd be like this: Bucky Barnes was a tornado across dry Nebraska fields; there was no such thing as "laid-back" in his vicinity.

She'd come to Malibu to let him know she was carrying his child, and now he was asking her about getting married. Natasha's head was still spinning - what was happening?

"The press..." she finally heard herself say, "...is going to have a field day. Especially if...if we aren't legally attached." That was the hard truth. And she'd worked so goddamn hard to get his reputation back to sterling. "And...and even if we are...it's still going to be somewhat of a scandal, because it's all so...sudden." Unless they could put a silent spin of a private relationship on it, but she doubted it, because the press knew she'd been his PR lawyer of just a few months before.

"...either way, it's going to be a mess, PR-wise. A big mess, or a little mess, but a mess."

"Then we have a legal attachment and I let 'em all know we've been dating this whole time and we'll make it a little mess. Look, Natasha, just because we're married doesn't mean you gotta be with me. I mean, I'd like it if you weren't out there openly cheating on me because I don't want the press but being married doesn't mean being married if that makes sense. Do I want a real marriage? Hell yeah I do. But I understand that it's probably not gonna be one."

He has to be realistic about this even if he wants to shout to the moon that he's gonna get married to Natasha.

"I'll go ask for the ring later on, say we've been secretly dating, the whole deal. We'll do a small little thing and invite barely no one and it'll be fine. Smallest mess possible. I've got this, okay? Don't worry about a thing."

A week later, after two months of relative freedom, Natasha once more moved back to Malibu, this time under the aegis as the fiancée of Bucky Barnes. Granted, nothing was quite yet official; he had yet to actually propose to her, for the sake of his family and the millions of fans across the globe, but it was necessary. Because her child was going to need legitimacy, and proper backing, and to be honest, Natasha was terrified.

The idea of being a single mother, raising a child alone, had never once, before now, crossed her mind. She didn't know how to be a parent! She didn't even know if she possessed any maternal instincts! But she knew she possessed hormones, because that, and a chaser of very good champagne, had landed her in this predicament in the first place.

Bucky had planned another family gathering this weekend, for the purpose of announcing their upcoming "plans" and the new member due to arrive in about six to seven months, but Natasha was nearly a nervous wreck. She knew she looked good; pregnancy agreed with her, according to her too-happy physician. But she felt tired all of the time, felt as if she weighed as much as an elephant, and having to put on a happy, loving façade was going to be so damned difficult.

But she was a professional, thus the soft smile as she descended the stairs to the kitchen, where her "intended" was bustling about in that silly apron, actually humming as he went along.

"Hey Natasha," Bucky says. He wants to pet name her but he thinks that's probably a bad idea since it's not a real relationship. Still, she's going to get a real proposal because she deserves that. She more than deserves that.

"So can you go out on the patio and see if Brooklyn's out there? I don't want him getting all sandy."

Out on his beautiful patio was a scattering of rose petals and written in the sand, well clear of the incoming tide, was "WILL YOU MARRY ME?" in neat block letters. The ring is in his pocket, though, and he's planning on proposing before everyone gets over at the house.

Obligingly crossing to the patio doors, Natasha stepped out of the house and nearly swallowed her tongue at the sight that greeted her. The rose petals quivered in the soft ocean breeze, and the message left nothing to the imagination. It was touching, though, and a soft smile graced her lips as she turned to step back inside.

"I didn't see him," she reported on the pup. "He may be upstairs, still. He was lying on your bed, watching TV the last time I saw him." The dog that loved Animal Planet. Natasha slid on a stool on the opposite side of the island, resting her elbows on the cool marble.

"I love the roses," she smiled. "And that's an ingenious way of asking that particular question." She managed a light chuckle. "Want me to answer now, or when your folks get here?"

"Now," Bucky says softly. "I know we're not getting a lot of choice in this but I think those things should be private. If...well, if I was getting to do it for real, this is how I would have done it. I've got the ring in my pocket right now."

Bucky's holding a pan and spatula and he puts both of them down to wash and dry his hands before pulling out the tiny little box. It's an antique ring, the one his grandfather had bought for his grandmother, and he hopes that Natasha likes it.

"It's my grandmother's," he says, pulling out the little ruby ring to put on her finger. "If you wanna say yes, it's all yours."

In her heart of hearts, this was not how Natasha had ever envisioned such a moment, but her heart caught in her throat just the same, watching Bucky produce that tiny jewelry box. The ring was exquisitely lovely, a simple golden band with a small twinkling ruby atop it, shining in the cool light. Right hand pressed to her throat, she could only nod mutely in answer, not for the first time wondering just how she'd ended up in this circumstance.

She knew the answer, of course, but it was still sometimes hard to believe.

Seeing it on her finger, perfectly fitted as if made for it, brought silent tears to her eyes. Natasha stared at the band on her hand, trying to keep her bottom lip from trembling. "...it's beautiful," she finally said, not really knowing what else to way.

A rattle from the doorway saved her, as well as the commotion from Bucky's younger sister and Steve Rogers, just arriving. Natasha hurriedly wiped her eyes and her nose, trying to appear as if nothing titanic had just taken place.

"Just let 'em notice," Bucky whispers before greeting his sister and Steve loudly. Steve had brought Dodger, too, whose barks had drawn Brooklyn down from the bedroom and they started running around one another in happy circles. Becca asks if there's anything she can help with and her eyes fall on Natasha's hand.

"Oh. My. God. Oh God. BUCKY! Oh my God, Bucky, you asked and she said YES."

To Natasha, she goes and grabs her hands and squeezes them. "We're gonna be sisters. This is amazing. Oh my God. I can't believe he asked. You've gotta tell me how he did it."

Natasha had resolved to do exactly that, but she was woefully unprepared for the youngest Barnes' reaction. Becca's squeals nearly shook the roof, and Natasha almost flinched away from the unbridled exuberance. Steve, catching on, laughed heartily and clapped his best friend's back after a massive hug of congratulations, while Becca chattered like a magpie, with a flustered Natasha only getting a few words in here and there.

The patio was the prime target, and Becca squealed again, seeing Bucky's handiwork there in the sand. She flew back into the kitchen to pounce her brother, leaving a relieved Natasha to catch a quick breath outside, only to look up and see Steve advancing on her, arms held wide.

"Congratulations, Natasha," he told her, engulfing her in a huge hug. "Welcome to the family. You're gonna love it, trust me." His smile, wide and bright, was infectious, and Natasha did her best to return it, even as the rest of the "clan" began to file into the house, too.

By the time Bucky's mother got there, word had spread around that he'd proposed and suddenly the food, the dogs, Bucky and his guitar, and everything else was of no interest but Natasha's left hand commanded the whole crowd. Everyone was astonished that he'd used the family ring except Bucky's mother who looked just a bit smug.

"I gave it to him yesterday," she says, pleased to know that he'd gone on and asked and she hadn't had to keep the secret. Seeing Bucky's apron, she smacks a kiss on his left cheek and Becca leaves a perfect lipstick print on his right before giving Natasha a knowing look.

"C'mon, Natasha. You've got to Kiss the Cook too."

Turning into a marble statue got her through the "Barnes Air Raid", as Bucky had chucklingly coined it, but Natasha paled when Becca insisted that she, too, grant the Cook a Kiss. But it was expected, wasn't it; she was his fiancé now. Bought and bonded. That thought soured her entirely, but Natasha swallowed it, and nodded silently.

Then stepped over to her soon-to-be husband, put her arms around his neck, closed her eyes, and lightly pressed her lips to his, closed and innocent. If they were going to pull this off, they were going to have to make it look good. Believable. Sincere.

"Thanks, babe. Now let me go so I can feed all these people, huh?" Bucky's pretty damn good at smiling where Natasha's concerned so it's no trouble to flash her a brilliant one while she's still close to him. The excuse of the food keeps him away from her for a while and his sisters are all over her. Great.

Once everything is laid out, though, it's time to eat and he can draw Natasha away from the rest of the crowd. They can deal with it. Fiancees often talk by themselves, right?

"I told you they'd be awful," Bucky says, sighing a little. "So I'm really sorry for the uh...enthusiasm."

She smiled appropriately, laughed when necessary, and answered all questions as much as she could, which...wasn't, really, because she honestly had no idea about wedding colors, honeymoon destinations, bridesmaids, vows, reception dinners...any of that.

When the crowd broke up to help cart the food out to the patio, Natasha found herself briefly tugged away, leaving her and James alone in the kitchen for a short moment. He apologized, but she shook her head, shrugging lightly.

"It's all right. I more or less expected it, knowing how boisterous your relatives are. It's fine, James." She picked up the large bowl of Winnie's potato salad and smiled, again. It felt frozen on her lips. "Bring the dinner rolls, will you?"

Bucky gets the dinner rolls and draws up as close as he can, pressing his lips up against her ear so they're not overheard and that they look as natural as possible while talking. It kills two birds with one stone considering they look like a couple in love if they're whispering back and forth.

"I'm still sorry," he murmurs. "And I'll make it up to you later. I don't know how I'll do it, but I'll do it, and you'll be a lot happier than you are right now."

He has this entire afternoon to come up with something.

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