ostavil | open post

Natasha had escaped back into the house long ago and once Bucky is able to get rid of everyone he heads back inside to do the clean up. It takes him a little while with all the things to go into the fridge and all the serving trays to wash but once he's done, he hangs the apron up and heads upstairs. He peeks into the guest room before going to his own.

"Hey, how you holdin' up? I'm not having another one of those for a while," he promises. "Too overwhelming to have that many people swarming over you anyway. You need anything? I can go get it so you don't have to get up."

This is half his child, after all, and he wants to take care of Natasha for more reasons than her being pregnant by him.

Her eyes opened when she heard Bucky's voice at the door, and Natasha blinked at him. She'd been dozing, and stifled a little yawn. "Is everyone gone? I was going to come down and help you clean up..." But she gave a little groan when she tried to sit up, and flopped back against the pillows.

"Urrg, I ache. God. I hurt all over, and I have no idea why. I haven't run a marathon, last I checked. But it feels like I did." One arm slung over her eyes, Natasha groaned again, feeling so heavy and disgusting.

"Is there any ibuprofen? Or some Tylenol?" Her doctor had told her to be sparse with the pain meds, but if she really needed something, to take it. She'd also recommended lots of hot baths for the aches, soaks in Epsom salts, and even a few massages here and there.

"...and my feet hurt too, weirdly enough."

"What about Tylenol and a foot rub? I've found myself with an abundance of time now that I've kicked everyone out of my house for the night," Bucky says, dangling it in front of her. Maybe Natasha doesn't love him and maybe she never will but he loves this baby and he loves her and part of taking care of the baby is taking care of her. So he'll offer it and see if she accepts it.

He goes to get a glass of water and the Tylenol and just in case she accepts the foot rub, a minty lotion he likes for himself whenever he's feeling his age.

"Tylenol and water for the lady," he says, putting them on the bedside table. "And foot massage offer still open."

Edited 2022-01-31 03:03 (UTC)

"That sounds...great, actually." What was the harm in letting him rub her feet? She wouldn't have to do it. She took the pills and water gratefully, swallowing them and half of the water in a few gulps. Then Natasha fell again to her back, kicking off her Keds and wiggling her toes in their thin socks.

"Feel free, Mr. Barnes. I might lie here and go right to sleep, but you just keep on, sir. I'll thank you for it...mmm, tomorrow, probably." Her comfy yoga pants had flared ends, so she pulled both legs upwards to bare her calves, too. Just to give him enough room, of course.

"You don't gotta be formal with me," Bucky says. He figures they're well past formal, considering they're gonna have a kid together and get married. Still, he tugs off her socks and lays them to the side before squeezing out a little lotion and warming it between his hands before touching her.

"Someone gave me this as a present and I hardly ever use it except after a long concert because my hands cramp up, you know? Never used it on anyone else so you've gotta tell me how it feels. Come to think - I've never given anyone a foot massage either."

The initial touch tickled a little, and Natasha's feet wiggled slightly, but it didn't take her long to exhale a long, deep sigh, relax into the pillows, and let him work. The lotion smelled wonderful; a little minty, a little tangy, and it was warm from the heat of Bucky's hands, but it tingled as it soaked into her skin. Truly wonderful.

"...feels good," Natasha murmured, head turned aside and long red curls splayed out on the covers beneath her. Bucky's hands were rough, but gentle, kneading her sore arches just the right way. A little low moan escaped, lashes closed over green eyes. "I'll give you three hours to stop, all right?"

"Three hours, huh? That's being generous, babe," Bucky says, pressing his thumbs against the arch of one small foot in a way that he thinks might feel nice to her. Every part of Natasha is beautiful, that's just a fact, but there's something intimate about doing something so far from sexual.

"What if my foot massages take three and a half hours, huh? You gonna kick me out of here if I go over? Because really, that extra half hour might be the part that's the best."

The press of his thumbs made her breath catch and her toes curl, but God, it felt so good! Both feet to her ankles tingled very pleasantly, and Natasha chuckled on the exhale, smiling softly. "I'd never do that," she gently admonished. "You can go as long as you want, James."

Too late did she realize the subtle innuendo in her response, but opted to just let it slide. This wasn't anything overly sexual, but it was nicely intimate, and the gentle camaraderie was what Natasha had actually been craving. Alex had never done anything like this for her. Not even at the end of her longest days, or her hardest days, had he taken the initiative to pamper her, not even a little.

She opened one eye and glanced down at him, at the foot of the bed, her feet in his hands. "...thank you, by the way, for doing this."

"You don't gotta thank me for stuff I wanna do anyway," Bucky says, waving that off. "Just because you don't wanna...be with me doesn't mean I don't care about you. I wanna take care of you as much as I can."

And, honestly, is the truth. It's not even a sexual thing, wanting to take care of her, and he's glad she's letting him do it.

"You deserve to feel good."

Her laugh this time was a little brittle, self-depreciating. "You may be the only person on the planet to think so," Natasha quipped back. "But...thank you anyway." For not throwing her aside now that she was carrying his child. For giving her a place to stay. For even wanting to be a part of this new person's life.

"Why haven't you gotten married and had kids before now?" The question just came out before she could bite it back, but honestly, she'd been curious from the start. He was good-looking, gorgeous really, rich as Croesus, and truly, she'd discovered, a very sweet guy. Bucky Barnes deserved the absolute best, and yet he'd settled on her.

"Never found the right girl," Bucky says, lifting his head and giving her a broad grin. The right fit had never been there before Natasha and he doesn't think he'll ever find it anywhere else, especially now that she's going to be the mother of his child. That's a bond no one can break.

"Tried, you know? Dated all these models and actresses because I thought anyone who wasn't famous would be too overwhelmed by all this shit but it didn't work because they were worried I was more famous than them or that I was jealous of them and I just wanted someone I could trust. Someone I could...someone to have kids with and bring to meet my family and just spend time with. You were the only one that fit right."

"Oh." Natasha supposed she hadn't really thought about it in such a context. For all of her mingling with the elite, she'd always tried to keep herself at arms length, to never get intimately involved with anyone in such a way. Mainly because high society had always seemed so...superficial to her, it hadn't really appealed as a lifestyle. And, in those rarefied circles, relationships never really lasted.

She reached for one of the smaller pillows, shifting to one side and holding it tight.

"It's...it's just so weird," she murmured, tucking her head to she could see him clearly, "that a celebrity like you, someone like you, that everyone knows, would even look twice at someone like me." A small shrug. "I've never considered myself all that great of a catch, honestly."

"I'm just a person, Natasha," Bucky says. He stops rubbing her feet for now and just sits on the edge of the bed so he can talk to her. She seems to like to beat herself up and that's not something Bucky believes in and especially not when she does it.

"Famous or not, I'm a person. I've got hopes and wishes and wants and dislikes and all of that shit too. And, well, you know. When I look at you right now, I see everything I've ever wanted. Saw it before you were pregnant with my kid and I see it now that you are. I fucked it up, sure, but maybe I'm getting another chance. Maybe we'll only ever be friends. But I don't regret being with you that night. It's what I wanted."

When Bucky let go of her feet, Natasha tucked her legs up beneath her, still holding onto the pillow. Every time he said things like this, she never had any idea of how to respond. Or even what to say in return. Thus, again, she settled for saying nothing, just pressing the top of the pillow beneath her nose and gazing at him over it, lashes dark around her light eyes.

Her stomach still churned, but somehow, Natasha didn't think it was because of the pregnancy. Well, maybe she could be honest, at least this time. With both Bucky and with herself.

"...neither do I," she managed to whisper, pulling the pillow back just enough to get the words out. "Regret it, I mean." She stared at Bucky solidly, not breaking their gaze. "...it was what I wanted, too."

"Then I'm very sorry I fucked it up afterward," Bucky says, petting her shin for want of anything else. Natasha has drawn in on herself and he figures it's time for him to stop talking because he's gone and ruined the damn mood (again) and he gives her a soft, vulnerable smile.

"But I'm happy you don't regret it. That would be...worse than anything, I think. I'd never be able to make up for that no matter what I did."

"James," Natasha sighed, putting the pillow aside, "you didn't. Fuck it up, I mean." She sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed to sit beside him. And very gently slide her fingers into his, resting on his thigh. "You didn't, so quit saying that you did." She pushed her hair back with her free hand.

"I just...I just wasn't ready. I'm still not, if I'm completely honest. But, not much choice now, is there." Her free hand rested briefly on her belly. "And you just want so much...it's like there'll be nothing left of myself for me." She gave his hand a squeeze to keep him from talking. "It's okay to want that; that's how it's supposed to be, right? i just need...I just need time."

A corner of her mouth turned up, wryly sardonic. "We can't both be pathetic at the same time, can we?"

There'll be nothing left of myself for me. Bucky hadn't realized it felt that way and now he thinks back over, well, everything and he realizes that he hadn't really considered that at all. Shit. He has fucked it up but in a different way, he guesses, and knowing how you fucked it is usually a good way to fix it.

"You don't have to marry me," Bucky says softly. "I'm taking all your choices away and you're stuck all over again only it's worse because you're pregnant. My family will just have to understand it and I'll tell the press to fuck off because it isn't their business. You're not ready and I can't...forcing you to marry me is pretty shitty. Especially when I'm the one who wants it so much."

One of her eyebrows slowly went up. "You know that's not going to work with the press," she reminded him. "We'd be up to our ears in lawyers if we tried to reinforce any sort of privacy entitlement. We'd all end up living in a bunker to keep the paparazzi out."

Falling quiet for a moment, Natasha finally spoke up again, her voice a little softer this time. "...and I don't want to be alone," she admitted. "And pregnant." Leaning a little closer, she told him, "I'm scared, James. I don't know anything at all about being a parent, or even how to take care of a baby."

Pausing again, she said, "And doesn't this kid deserve two parents who are together? Believe me when I tell you that it's important. This little one shouldn't suffer because his mom and dad were both equally stupid and didn't think things all the way through."

She's right about the press, as much as he hates to admit it, so it's really not an argument he can push up against. When she says the baby deserves two parents who are together, he shakes his head a bit.

"You're not going to be alone, Natasha. It's my kid too, I'm going to help. I wouldn't abandon you and the kid and make you fend for yourselves. I'm not that kind of guy. But it sounds like you'd rather not be with me romantically and so we're stuck, aren't we? You don't get a chance to be with someone you love if you're stuck with me and I'm not really with you. It's just on paper."

He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment.

"I would never leave you. But I'd rather tear my heart out than know you were living with me just because you had to do it for the appearance of things. You've spent too much time doing things just because you had to do them. I can't be another person asking you to do that."

Natasha didn't answer for a long few minutes, and when she finally did, her voice was almost a whisper. "So...what do we do?" She almost dreaded hearing the answer. "Do you want me to leave?" Again? If she left this time, she didn't think she could ever come back. The hurt, the confusion, it was all just too much for one battered heart to handle.

Her left hand glittered, and Natasha looked down at the beautiful ring on her finger. "...do-do you want the ring back?" It nearly choked her, but she managed to ask. And decided again that all of this 'love' and 'happiness' nonsense was just that. Absolute nonsense. Love hurt. She and the man beside her knew that more than anything.

"I want to marry you. I want to love you. But I...whenever I tell you that I love you, I'm always afraid you're going to leave," Bucky says, just trying to be honest about it. "So I have to keep it inside and not say anything at all unless we're talking like this which feels like we keep pointing daggers at each other."

Might as well lay it all out on the table.

"I want to be your husband, I want to be a father to our kid, and I want you to live with me here in this beautiful house and be happy. All I want is for you to be happy, Natasha. But I can't keep pretending I don't love you. It's too hard to do."

She felt like crying. But she held the tears back; Bucky didn't deserve her pathetic sadness. Natasha bit at her lower lip instead. "...then we'll get married," she told him. "And you'll be a father. We'll...be a family." Complete with doting relatives and in-laws.

"I won't leave," she promised. "I don't really have anywhere else to go." Which was true. She had no family of her own, no one who knew her outside of this family, a very few casual friends, and Alice, her secretary.

"You don't have to pretend anymore, James." She kept her sigh hidden. "I can handle it." I just can't return it, was her unspoken addition. And it made her want to weep, knowing she didn't dare deserve this good man's unconditional affections.

"Now you have multiple places to go," Bucky points out. "I own three houses right now and enough capital to buy another any time I damn well please. So if you get sick of me, you can go to Mexico or out to Brooklyn and there's a place waiting for you."

Bucky tweaks her toe a little to try and lighten the mood. "And trust me, at some point you're gonna get sick of my face and want to take me up on one of those other houses. I promise you. Do you trust me?"

That little revelation brought her up short. "You have a place in Mexico?" New York wasn't that surprising; he'd been born and raised in Brooklyn, after all.

"When do you ever travel south of the border? I thought recording and touring kept you globe-trotting over the last five years." The band had done two world tours in those five years, both lasting over twelve months, each. And had been wildly successful, at that.

But on a heavier note, "...yes, James. I do trust you. Promise." Natasha pulled her toes away, tucking one foot beneath her to keep it away from his pinching fingers. "If nothing else, you can believe that."

"Well, I didn't say I was getting to use that house right now," Bucky says, winking at her. "But I have it on good authority that Becca's been using it liberally. Don't always get to stay in any of my properties when I'm touring around all the time. It's nice to have studio time right now, honestly, because I'm just fucking exhausted of traveling."

When Natasha says she trusts him, he goes a little more serious. "Come sleep in my bed tonight. No funny business, no sex, just sleep. If we're going to give it a shot we need to make it look real and part of making it look real means making it real. You can leave your stuff over here if you want, I don't care about that, just come sleep over in my room. I'll trade you a backrub?"

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