"Yeah sure, we can get all that stuff. You can have whatever you want," Bucky assures her. "I know you're not used to asking or used to having but you don't have to worry about that with me, okay? You ask for whatever you want and if I can get it, I'll get it."
Bucky wants to make it clear he's nothing like Alex and he knows there's a lot of ways he has to do that. It isn't just about sex or affection - it's little things like thinking of her when getting the groceries or asking her opinion on the color of the bedroom. Choices. She should get choices.
"I gotta get you put on the bank account and stuff but that can wait a little bit. I'll just give you my card if you need something."
No, Bucky Barnes was nothing at all like Alex Shostakov. A fact she was coming to believe more and more. Alex would have thrown a fit if she'd told him she was pregnant, and immediately turned around with seven ideas of how to get rid of it. He'd made it perfectly clear during their first year together that he never wanted children, and had cautioned Natasha to stay on the birth control, even if doing so sometimes made her feel horrible.
Bucky had been nothing but excited, nearly shouting his happiness from the rooftops, that he was going to be a father, and about time, too. (That had come from his grinning father, more than delighted to have another grandchild to spoil.) And Bucky had also been adamant to take care of her, and even marry her, surprisingly. Everything any woman could ever dream of.
"...thank you, James. For taking care of me. --don't talk," she reiterated, keeping her finger pressed to his lips. "Just...accept it. Please." He tended to babble at every corner, she'd learned.
And rather than remove her fingers for him to do just that, Natasha instead lowered her hand only to replace it with her lips, pressed light and sweet against his.
It says something about their relationship that Natasha has to actively tell him not to talk but Bucky can't really roll that over in his mind too much before she's kissing him and that surprises him more than anything. She's made it very clear that she's not ready to be a true couple yet, that she's just finding her feet after a rough several years, and the kiss is something welcomed even if it's blowing him away that it's happening.
He lets Natasha control it for a moment before he works his hands in all that glorious red hair of hers and deepens it, really trying to show how much he loves her and cares about her and needs her in this kiss. Maybe his words are shitty but he hopes this can at least demonstrate what he's terrible at talking about.
She didn't pull away when Bucky slid his hands into her hair and pulled her closer, deepening their kiss enough to make her moan, very softly. It was just as wonderful as the last kisses had been; his mouth was sweet, tongue bold and sure, and lips so, so soft. Natasha wanted to weep, and wasn't too surprised to feel tears soak her lashes.
Cupping his face in both hands, she rose slightly on her knees, ivory silk whispering upwards along her thighs, but clothing didn't really matter at the moment. Kissing Bucky Barnes was far more important, even if doing so was the most unfair thing she could ever, ever do.
One kiss became two, two became four, and finally Natasha was completely out of breath, panting softly as her arms slowly slid around his neck and she leaned in enough to rest her cheek against his, trembling as she stifled her quiet sobs, hid from him her tears.
Bucky thinks these kisses are probably the best ones he's ever had in his life and he's a little surprised when Natasha breaks away to wrap her arms around him. It's all right to take a break, though, and he rubs his hand at the back of her neck before he realizes she's trembling.
It was a shaky breath she inhaled, and exhaled a moment later on a quiet, "...yeah." It wasn't okay, but she also knew that most of it was her hormones; her doctor had warned her that her mood swings might go up and down, but Natasha hadn't expected this sort of roller coaster.
Still, she covertly wiped her eyes, fixed a small, shaky smile on her lips, and lifted her head, meeting Bucky's wide, worried gaze without much hesitation. "...I'm okay," she promised, unable to keep from sniffling softly. "Just...a lot's going on, you know?"
She made no move out of his lap, and her small fingers couldn't help but surreptitiously tangle in the ends of his shaggy hair, a comfort of which even she wasn't aware.
"Well, I can understand that," Bucky says softly. "You want me to get these dishes out of here so I can get back in bed with you? I'm just going to go put them on the table over there, I'm not leaving, but it's a little hard to cuddle when you've got plates everywhere."
He grins at her. "We could break the dishes though. If you're into that. I'm a blank slate, baby. I've never done that in bed before but I'm up to trying it."
Natasha blinked at him for a moment, then snorted a quiet little giggle. "Um...I think putting them aside will work, really." To that effect, she slipped out of his lap, back to her side of the large bed, cuddling a plushy pillow as she settled. A bit of heat flooded her cheeks, realizing what he'd meant, but she realized that it was just silly teasing, nothing more.
Nevertheless, Natasha watched idly as Bucky swept the now-empty breakfast tray off of the bedspread, indeed placing it nearby on the vanity. "It'd be really lazy to stay in bed all day," she observed. "I don't think I've ever done it, really." Not the workaholic that she was.
"Then we're gonna stay in bed all day," Bucky says emphatically. "Because I think everyone should do that at least once in their lives and y'know, I'm here to entertain you. Maybe we can get up to something good."
Bucky doesn't expect anything to happen, not really, but he does want to spend the time with Natasha and have it be stress free and just nice. He wants these moments with her. He slides back into bed and offers his arms to her.
A little surprised that Bucky actually wanted to stay in bed all day, and with her, Natasha blinked again, but obliged when he slipped beneath the bolster and held out an arm. She slid over again, winding her own arms around his waist as she cuddled into his embrace.
"A little," she admitted, stifling a shiver. Her stomach gave a gurgle, Natasha blushed, then giggled. "Your son apparently likes pancakes," she quipped, nestling down into the pillows and Bucky's arms. "That's a good sign, I think."
"Kid's got taste for my favorite food, I like him already," Bucky says, keeping Natasha close. He likes this, honestly, and he hopes they get to do it more often. He hopes she feels safe enough with him to do it.
"I wanna feel him. I can't wait until I can do that," Bucky admits. "I'm so excited. I kind of blurted it out to everyone as soon as I could and I probably shouldn't have but I wanted this baby so much I couldn't help myself."
"Another month, maybe six weeks," Natasha reported. "Or so my doctor says. I have another appointment in two weeks...if...if you want to go." She instinctively snuggled close, relishing his warmth and steady strength. "...eventually we'll have to out all of this to the press." And her sigh wasn't at all theatrical at that thought. "And weather the scrutiny that will bring."
Hopefully they could find a relatively casual way to announce all of these new changes to the public, otherwise the media circus was going to be an absolute nightmare. "Any ideas?" Natasha knew Bucky would be perfect in front of the camera; he was excited about a wife and a new baby, there was no doubt about that whatsoever.
"Of course I wanna go. Why wouldn't I wanna go? I want to go to all the appointments," Bucky says. He finds one of her hands with his and links their fingers together. It feels nice to be in bed like this and just enjoy himself.
"And we'll figure out the press. But we're not gonna do that today, Natasha. I just wanna be with you and relax. I don't want to lay here and stress you out thinking about how the press is going to jump all over you once they know, you know? I just want us to have a day to ourselves."
All of them? Oh God, that was going to be...awkward. But she couldn't ignore the sincerity in Bucky's voice; he really was excited about the upcoming tyke. Although, the press...
"Yes, but we really should have some sort of plan in place before the roof just blows off of the entire thing," Natasha insisted, pulling away slightly to prop up on one elbow, curls now loose from their braid and falling over one shoulder. "If we can sort of predict how it's gonna go, then we can come up with responses and contingency ideas without being scrambled all at once."
This wasn't going to go away, and she felt that the sooner they had something hashed out between the two of them, the better they'd be. That was the PR lawyer in her talking.
"Natasha. I'm begging you. I want a day. We need to talk about this and I'm not putting it off forever but I haven't had that many moments with you where I can even just enjoy being in love with you. I've either been worried you'll hate me or we're worried about what everyone else thinks. I just want to show you my love for a day. That's it."
Bucky knows that this is possibly selfish on his end but he genuinely just wants the time with her. He feels like that's something they haven't gotten and desperately need if they're going to make this relationship work at all.
This time, her sigh was completely exasperated, and the roll of her eyes a surrender. "Okay, fine," she groused, flopping back on her pillow with a soft snort. "But tomorrow," she told him, giving his side a jab with an elbow. "First thing, right after breakfast."
She wasn't upset, more resigned, because she'd always been one to take care of the work before anything else. And this was so different, lying about being lazy and pregnant; Natasha didn't really know how to start.
"...have you thought about any names?" She'd rattled around a few, but hadn't dared write them down or speak them aloud. Not yet, not while it was so new. "I don't really care if it's a girl or a boy, as long as it's healthy."
"I like Michael," Bucky says. "Or if we have a girl, I'm pretty fond of Alexandra. I don't know, I like traditional names but if there's something that really sticks out to you, we can talk about it. I don't care if we have a boy or girl. It's gonna be my baby. I'm gonna love whoever they are."
Bucky trails his fingertips along the curve of her neck and then across the neckline of her gown.
"Do you have any idea how much I want you every moment of every day?"
"I like Michael, too." Natasha smiled, thinking of middle names to go with it. "Maybe, Michael James? After you and your dad? Michael James Barnes...we could call him MJ for short." The more she thought about it, the more she liked it. And she knew Bucky's father would be delighted to no end.
She hadn't really given much thought to any little girl names, and that particular train of thought more or less derailed right there when Bucky's calloused fingers drifted over her skin. They left gooseflesh in their wake, and Natasha couldn't help the slight shiver. Or the reflexive intake of breath, followed by a nervous little gulp.
"...not...really, no...?" And she wasn't playing hard to get; she'd just steadfastedly refused to let herself imagine such a thing.
"Yeah," Bucky says, smiling slowly. "I just look at you in this pretty little nightgown and think, nobody's ever worn anything like this for me. This isn't the kind of girl who wants me. Too sweet for me. I'm not a good enough guy to have the sweet girl. I'm a little bad."
He stretches out beside her in bed and keeps running his fingers over her skin. Nothing other than just her neck and collarbone and hair but he desperately wants to go lower.
"I'm all inked up and play guitar for a living and I've got this pretty, sweet little thing in my bed. What'd I do to earn that?"
She couldn't help the slow flush that spread upwards from her neck to her cheeks, and Natasha lowered her lashes, suddenly terribly shy. She'd never been good at this sort of thing, this gentle flirting that naturally evolved when two people actually cared for each other. Yet his fingers felt so good against her skin, sensitive and waiting for his touch, and Natasha took a deep, soft breath.
"...you're not a bad guy, James," she managed to whisper, lashes lifting to meet his gaze. "You're the sweet one, not me." Almost unconsciously, one of her hands rose to touch his cheek, feeling the night's bristles prick her skin gently. An interesting sensation. "--and you earned it because you're the sweetest guy there ever was, even if you do have more ink than a billboard sign."
"Mmm, glad you think so," Bucky says, turning his face into the touch. He slides his hand lower and cups her breast, grateful that the gown is thin and almost flimsy and he can feel a lot more than he might otherwise. Maybe this is too forward but he wants to do it and if it's too much, she can tell him.
"Feel pretty sweet to me," he murmurs. "You consume me. You've spread all over me and all I can ever think and feel and want is you. I feel like you're gonna set me on fire one of these days and I'm gonna want it."
She still had a thing for his voice. It flowed over her, silken as water. Natasha's eyes closed out of pure reflex, letting Bucky's low baritone caress her ears. Her breath hitched lightly when she felt his hand gently cup a breast, but she didn't pull away. He was going to be her husband, after all; she might as well push her insecurities aside and play the part.
"...those sound like song lyrics," Natasha heard herself murmur, lips tilting in a small smile. Unbidden, her own fingertips trailed over one of the tattoos decorating his shoulder and bicep, fingernails skating along the inked outline. Her lashes lifted, slowly meeting his gaze, and her smile tipped further. "You really feel like that? --about me?"
"Mmm, of course I do," Bucky says. He knows she must think it's surprising because she always asks and he knows what her old relationship was like but it still makes him sad that she can't trust what he says and just know they're true. Because he does feel this way. The words might be pretty but it doesn't mean they're made up or commercial.
"Maybe I speak in lyrics sometimes but it's just because you inspire me so damn much," he murmurs. "I wrote a whole album about you - love and heartbreak and jealousy and everything. I feel so much for you that I can't keep it inside."
"It's okay," Natasha breathed back, both touched and a bit amused. "I don't mind." She felt her blush deepen and she shrugged slightly, still a little bashful. "...I...actually kinda like it." It was a novel way to express feelings, that was sure. And given that she'd spent a good part of her adult life with a man who preferred passive-aggressive affection, if it could even be labeled as such, Bucky's idiosyncratic method was a welcome change.
He was still stroking her softly, gently but persistently mapping out her body, but Natasha found that she didn't really mind so much. Not anymore. "Jealousy?" That perked her particular interest? "Did you really write a song for that album about being jealous, Bucky Barnes?"
"You were with someone else," Bucky says casually. "You really didn't listen to Ivy, did you? That whole song is me being jealous of you being with Alex because you're perfect for me. I could sing it for you again if you forgot what the whole thing was about. I kinda know it real well."
Bucky slides one big hand down to cup her waist and rubs his knuckles there against the curve of it. It won't be this way in a few months but for now, he can feel the shape of her.
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Bucky wants to make it clear he's nothing like Alex and he knows there's a lot of ways he has to do that. It isn't just about sex or affection - it's little things like thinking of her when getting the groceries or asking her opinion on the color of the bedroom. Choices. She should get choices.
"I gotta get you put on the bank account and stuff but that can wait a little bit. I'll just give you my card if you need something."
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Bucky had been nothing but excited, nearly shouting his happiness from the rooftops, that he was going to be a father, and about time, too. (That had come from his grinning father, more than delighted to have another grandchild to spoil.) And Bucky had also been adamant to take care of her, and even marry her, surprisingly. Everything any woman could ever dream of.
A husband. A home. A family.
That thought floating across the front of her mind, Natasha quite abruptly put down her empty plate, then shifted about enough that she could scoot across the bed and right into her fiancé's lap. A finger pressed to his lips - to keep him from talking - and she shook her head slightly, saying in a low whisper, "...don't say anything. Just let me..." Her lashes lowered; she rested her forehead to his.
"...thank you, James. For taking care of me. --don't talk," she reiterated, keeping her finger pressed to his lips. "Just...accept it. Please." He tended to babble at every corner, she'd learned.
And rather than remove her fingers for him to do just that, Natasha instead lowered her hand only to replace it with her lips, pressed light and sweet against his.
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He lets Natasha control it for a moment before he works his hands in all that glorious red hair of hers and deepens it, really trying to show how much he loves her and cares about her and needs her in this kiss. Maybe his words are shitty but he hopes this can at least demonstrate what he's terrible at talking about.
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Cupping his face in both hands, she rose slightly on her knees, ivory silk whispering upwards along her thighs, but clothing didn't really matter at the moment. Kissing Bucky Barnes was far more important, even if doing so was the most unfair thing she could ever, ever do.
One kiss became two, two became four, and finally Natasha was completely out of breath, panting softly as her arms slowly slid around his neck and she leaned in enough to rest her cheek against his, trembling as she stifled her quiet sobs, hid from him her tears.
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"Natasha? Is everything okay?"
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Still, she covertly wiped her eyes, fixed a small, shaky smile on her lips, and lifted her head, meeting Bucky's wide, worried gaze without much hesitation. "...I'm okay," she promised, unable to keep from sniffling softly. "Just...a lot's going on, you know?"
She made no move out of his lap, and her small fingers couldn't help but surreptitiously tangle in the ends of his shaggy hair, a comfort of which even she wasn't aware.
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He grins at her. "We could break the dishes though. If you're into that. I'm a blank slate, baby. I've never done that in bed before but I'm up to trying it."
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Something her fiancé did on a regular basis, she was learning.
Nevertheless, Natasha watched idly as Bucky swept the now-empty breakfast tray off of the bedspread, indeed placing it nearby on the vanity. "It'd be really lazy to stay in bed all day," she observed. "I don't think I've ever done it, really." Not the workaholic that she was.
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Bucky doesn't expect anything to happen, not really, but he does want to spend the time with Natasha and have it be stress free and just nice. He wants these moments with her. He slides back into bed and offers his arms to her.
"C'mere. You look cold."
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"A little," she admitted, stifling a shiver. Her stomach gave a gurgle, Natasha blushed, then giggled. "Your son apparently likes pancakes," she quipped, nestling down into the pillows and Bucky's arms. "That's a good sign, I think."
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"I wanna feel him. I can't wait until I can do that," Bucky admits. "I'm so excited. I kind of blurted it out to everyone as soon as I could and I probably shouldn't have but I wanted this baby so much I couldn't help myself."
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Hopefully they could find a relatively casual way to announce all of these new changes to the public, otherwise the media circus was going to be an absolute nightmare. "Any ideas?" Natasha knew Bucky would be perfect in front of the camera; he was excited about a wife and a new baby, there was no doubt about that whatsoever.
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"And we'll figure out the press. But we're not gonna do that today, Natasha. I just wanna be with you and relax. I don't want to lay here and stress you out thinking about how the press is going to jump all over you once they know, you know? I just want us to have a day to ourselves."
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"Yes, but we really should have some sort of plan in place before the roof just blows off of the entire thing," Natasha insisted, pulling away slightly to prop up on one elbow, curls now loose from their braid and falling over one shoulder. "If we can sort of predict how it's gonna go, then we can come up with responses and contingency ideas without being scrambled all at once."
This wasn't going to go away, and she felt that the sooner they had something hashed out between the two of them, the better they'd be. That was the PR lawyer in her talking.
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Bucky knows that this is possibly selfish on his end but he genuinely just wants the time with her. He feels like that's something they haven't gotten and desperately need if they're going to make this relationship work at all.
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She wasn't upset, more resigned, because she'd always been one to take care of the work before anything else. And this was so different, lying about being lazy and pregnant; Natasha didn't really know how to start.
"...have you thought about any names?" She'd rattled around a few, but hadn't dared write them down or speak them aloud. Not yet, not while it was so new. "I don't really care if it's a girl or a boy, as long as it's healthy."
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Bucky trails his fingertips along the curve of her neck and then across the neckline of her gown.
"Do you have any idea how much I want you every moment of every day?"
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She hadn't really given much thought to any little girl names, and that particular train of thought more or less derailed right there when Bucky's calloused fingers drifted over her skin. They left gooseflesh in their wake, and Natasha couldn't help the slight shiver. Or the reflexive intake of breath, followed by a nervous little gulp.
"...not...really, no...?" And she wasn't playing hard to get; she'd just steadfastedly refused to let herself imagine such a thing.
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He stretches out beside her in bed and keeps running his fingers over her skin. Nothing other than just her neck and collarbone and hair but he desperately wants to go lower.
"I'm all inked up and play guitar for a living and I've got this pretty, sweet little thing in my bed. What'd I do to earn that?"
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"...you're not a bad guy, James," she managed to whisper, lashes lifting to meet his gaze. "You're the sweet one, not me." Almost unconsciously, one of her hands rose to touch his cheek, feeling the night's bristles prick her skin gently. An interesting sensation. "--and you earned it because you're the sweetest guy there ever was, even if you do have more ink than a billboard sign."
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"Feel pretty sweet to me," he murmurs. "You consume me. You've spread all over me and all I can ever think and feel and want is you. I feel like you're gonna set me on fire one of these days and I'm gonna want it."
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"...those sound like song lyrics," Natasha heard herself murmur, lips tilting in a small smile. Unbidden, her own fingertips trailed over one of the tattoos decorating his shoulder and bicep, fingernails skating along the inked outline. Her lashes lifted, slowly meeting his gaze, and her smile tipped further. "You really feel like that? --about me?"
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"Maybe I speak in lyrics sometimes but it's just because you inspire me so damn much," he murmurs. "I wrote a whole album about you - love and heartbreak and jealousy and everything. I feel so much for you that I can't keep it inside."
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He was still stroking her softly, gently but persistently mapping out her body, but Natasha found that she didn't really mind so much. Not anymore. "Jealousy?" That perked her particular interest? "Did you really write a song for that album about being jealous, Bucky Barnes?"
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Bucky slides one big hand down to cup her waist and rubs his knuckles there against the curve of it. It won't be this way in a few months but for now, he can feel the shape of her.
"You didn't think I was jealous of him?"
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