ostavil | open post

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?"

Unsurprising, that Becca got more use out of her brother's real estate than he did, but hey, they were family, right? Maybe one day they'd take a vacation together and visit all of Bucky's other homes, who knew. When he asked her to come to his room for the night, Natasha did hesitate, but only briefly. Bucky was right; they were going to have to make it work, and make it look believable.

"...all right." She didn't offer a yea or nay about the backrub, however, just added, "Let me get a change of clothes, and my toothbrush." Rising from the bed, she told him, "You go ahead, I'll be there in a minute or so."

Then it was into the guest bathroom to retrieve brushes for both her teeth and her hair, then a quick change of clothes to her comfortable nightgown, which was long and silky and a pretty shade of ivory, and comfortable against her skin. But she gave a brief thought to a simple t-shirt and shorts, then discarded it; believable.

Mind made up, Natasha stepped into her slippers and, supplies in hands, headed down the hall and across the house to the massive master bedroom.

Bucky had expected Natasha to come over in a shirt and shorts and he feels underdressed next to her soft, ivory nightgown. He'd stripped down to his boxers the way he normally sleeps and now he wonders if he owns pajamas and if he does, should he put them on. Shit. He's overthinking it again.

"You look pretty," he says, settling on the safest thing he can say. He'd already brushed his teeth before Natasha came over so he gets comfortable in bed while he waits on her.

"And the backrub is still on the table."

After brushing both her hair and her teeth, Natasha padded quietly around to the other side of the huge platform bed, pulling back the covers and slipping beneath them with a quiet sigh. Bucky was already on his usual side, and hearing his comment, she smiled softly.

"Thank you." Then, "I think I'm good for tonight." She glanced over and smiled a little wider, saying, "You already did my feet, that's more than enough for one evening." Reclining back into the pillows, Natasha placed a hand on her stomach, then reached over and took Bucky's wrist, placing his palm where hers had rested moments before.

"Feel it? He's growing in there."

"Too little to kick yet," Bucky says, softly disappointed. "But you'll be moving soon and making your mom miserable. You better behave in there or I'll have something to say about it, buddy."

He doesn't know why he's decided the baby is a boy but he has; Bucky is pretty sure he'll be equally happy with a girl too.

"You comfy enough? Need some of my pillows? I'm willing to give them up to the cause."

"Yeah, still too little. Only about nine or ten weeks old." God, had it really been that long? Since she'd made love with this man in this very bed? Seemed like just yesterday. Natasha too had come to identify the baby as a boy; no particular reason why, but it just felt right.

"I'm comfy enough," she assured him. "These pillows are more than enough." There were enough of them, littered about the bed. Probably twelve, if her count was anywhere accurate. "You have enough pillows to build a pillow mountain, James."

"I'm a man who likes comfort in my sanctuary," Bucky says, laughing a little. "Nah. I got some extras out of the other room before I went to rub your feet because I was psyching myself up to ask you to sleep in here and I wanted you to be comfortable."

Maybe that's stupid but it's out on the table now.

"You wanna toss some of them on the floor or anything? Whatever makes you the most comfortable. It's all about you."

Hearing all of that touched her, brought a warm chuckle to her lips. "Oh, James..." It was humbling, how much he cared. How much he thought about her. Humbling, and still a little unnerving.

"No, don't throw them on the floor. They're fine." She arranged a few for the both of them, lay back in the nest and drew up the sheet. And bit at her lower lip. "...but you can hold me...if you want?" That would be so very comfortable.

"...I liked it before...when you did."

"Yeah? Holding comes free of charge," Bucky says, reaching for her and pulling her so that she can rest against his chest while he plays with her hair. He loves her hair from the color to the softness and the way it curls around his fingers.

"Don't worry about a thing. I'll take care of anything you need before you think of it and anything you want as soon as you tell me. You want new slippers? I'll buy you three sets. You want better pillows? I'll throw all these away and replace 'em. You decide you want me to change the whole color of this room? You just tell me what you want and it's yours."

Natasha voiced a soft, surprised squeak when Bucky all but hauled her across the bed; she landed half-draped across his chest with his arm around her and his hand in her hair, but it didn't take her long to settle. He was very comfortable, and warm; she knew she wouldn't get cold tonight. And it was nice, having someone to actually hold, someone who would actually hold her back.

Her previous lover had seldom done so. She and Alex had always slept on opposite sides of the bed, usually with his back to her as he faced the windows while he slept. She'd kept to her side, not wanting to disturb him, and he'd never offered his arm for her.

But she felt Bucky's strong heartbeat beneath her cheek, and the warmth of his skin was comforting. She snuck an arm around his waist, let her eyes drift closed, and exhaled a long sigh, willing herself to just relax, and rest. "Mmm-nmm," Natasha negated quietly, shaking her head. "'s fine, James. Everythin's...fine..."

Bucky likes the feel of Natasha soft and warm in his arms and when she relaxes against him fully, sneaks an arm around him to get closer - that's when he feels like it's safe to smile. It's just hard to keep all his feelings about her hidden away and at least they've come to an agreement that he doesn't have to keep hiding how he feels. If he had to, it would never work.

"Never gonna let anything hurt you," he murmurs back. "Keepin' you right here with me. No matter what. Do you trust me?"

The trust is more important than love, he thinks, because you can't have love where there's no trust.

As always, his voice was wonderful against her ears. Natasha murred in response, nodding shallowly. She was tired again, exhaustion weighing on her thanks to wacky hormones and tumultuous emotions. "Mmhmmm..." was her quiet murmur, fingernails catching lightly in Bucky's skin as her fingers gently twitched.

He'd left the patio doors slightly cracked, and the cool Pacific breeze was sublime across her bare back, but Bucky was warm beneath her, a soothing balm to frazzled nerves. Natasha felt she might sleep in peace tonight, and every night afterwards, if she'd simply let herself have this.

It was offered freely, and she'd be a fool to reject it.

Bucky sleeps better with the warm weight of Natasha settled over him and when he wakes the next morning, he's pleased to find that she's still there and he's still holding her against him. The cool air off the Pacific is drifting in from the patio doors and he pulls the blankets in around them some more so that Natasha won't get chilled.

"You still comfortable or do you wanna move?" he asks, voice a low rumble against her ear. "Jus' wanna make sure you're still warm and comfy while we get a few more hours to ourselves."

Some time during the night, Natasha had shifted to one side, with Bucky warm against her back. She was tucked in snug and warm, nestled beneath the blankets with her companion's arms tight around her. Oddly, it didn't make her feel trapped, or claustrophobic; instead, she felt...safe. Secure.

Hearing the low rumble at her ear, she stirred halfway into waking, "hmmming" softly as she stretched. "Hmm...?" She felt him warm at her back, muscled arms wrapped securely around her waist and hips. "Mmmnmmm, 'm good." Natasha rested one arm over his, delicate fingertips smoothing upwards and over his bicep. "...what time izzit?"

Bucky reaches over toward the nightstand to get his phone and pulls it over to see what time it is. Oh, it's only 4:15. They have plenty of time to sleep in - especially since neither of them need to be anywhere today.

"Just after four," he murmurs. "Go back to sleep, we can get up later and decide what we want to do."

Four in the morning was early, even for her. Natasha murred light protest, more than glad to drift right back to sleep, but a roil of her tummy made her wince. "Ummfff," she grated, brows furrowed with the wave of discomfort. "Your kid thinks I should get up right now," Natasha told the man behind her, groggily pushing back the blankets and sitting up somewhat haphazardly.

Disentangled from Bucky's arms, she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, hand on her belly, and Natasha hunched over, willing her stomach to settle and the nausea to fade. The books she'd read about pregnancy had warned her about morning sickness, and she'd had a few bouts with it before, but then it'd eased for a few weeks. And was apparently back with a vengeance.

"...ugh, God." But she didn't get any more words out, because in the next breath she was up, on her feet, and bolting for the bathroom. Wouldn't do to vomit all over that pristine carpet.

Bucky knows what it is but knowing what it is doesn't make it any more pleasant for Natasha. It comes with being pregnant, the morning sickness, and sometimes it's worse than others. He doesn't know how bad hers is normally considering it's the first time he's seen it in her but he does know what to do.

"Babe? I'm gonna go make you some tea, all right? You stay where you are and I'll bring you something to settle your stomach down."

Elizabeth had been all about this lemon ginger tea stuff and there's still tons of it stashed around his house between her and Susan's pregnancies. It doesn't take long to brew some of it and he puts in a spoonful of honey and stirs it before carefully taking it back upstairs to Natasha.

"Lemon and ginger and honey. Worked for my sisters every time. You sip on that and I'm going to bring you a blanket, okay?" There's a throw blanket on one of the chairs in the bedroom and he brings it back so he can drape it around Natasha before settling down beside her. "Hormones are not gonna win. I'll sit right here with you until we beat 'em."

Natasha heard Bucky calling out, but she was too hunched over the toilet trying to keep her insides inside to really make sense of it. Keeping her hair out of her face was a full-time job, too, necessary as she choked on nothing, shaking all over.

It seemed like an eternity went by before she became aware of a large presence nearby, and Natasha lifted her trembling face to see Bucky right beside her, a cup of something fragrant and warm in his large hands. She managed to take the mug and a small sip, realizing it was hot tea with lemon and honey. Oddly enough, it soothed her throat and her stomach, after a moment.

A soft blanket materialized around her shoulders, and Natasha blinked, starting slightly, but huddled gratefully under its fuzzy warmth. Mug still clutched in her hands, she wearily closed her eyes and leaned over to rest her forehead against the musician's tattooed shoulder. "...ugggggg," was all she could really articulate at the moment, but she was grateful for the assistance.

"It's us against the hormones," Bucky says, laughing softly. "And I'm right here. I'm half the problem, anyway, so I ought to be doing at least half the work in taking care of you. Probably 75%, really. I can't carry the kid but I can make you a hell of a lot more comfortable."

It seems like Natasha isn't throwing up anymore (for now, anyway) but Bucky doesn't move. Instead, he threads his fingers through her hair and plays with the curls.

"You need anything else right now?"

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