ostavil | open post

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.

"You didn't think I was jealous of him?"

Hearing that, Natasha blinked a little. "I didn't, no. I really didn't think about it that way at all." But now that he'd pointed it out, it was more than a little obvious. Shaking her head, Natasha chuckled at herself, rolling her eyes lightly. "I don't really have your artistic soul, James. I never learned to read between the lines with these sorts of things."

She didn't protest when his hand ghosted down her side and curved against her waist; Natasha absently eased a knee over Bucky's thigh, her leg just resting quietly atop his. She was so starved for gentle affection, her body knew exactly what to do without consulting her at all.

"You don't have to sing it for me, James," she told him. "It's probably my favorite song of yours, so far."

Natasha is getting closer and closer to him and honestly, Bucky is more than fine with it. He's ecstatic. He's thrilled. He's a million little things that he cannot even describe with words and just have to let wash over him in feeling.

"Yeah, you're not supposed to have favorites but it's mine. I like Ruin too though because you can ruin me a million little times any time you feel like it, soon-to-be Mrs. Barnes."

Natasha's brows furrowed and she clucked her tongue at him. "I'd never do something like that, Mr. Barnes. And you know it." Still, hearing the "soon-to-be Mrs. Barnes" resonated, down in her belly. Next to their child. Speaking of...

"...have you given any thought to this wedding? I'll be honest, I have no idea about weddings - I think I've only ever attended two in my entire life. And I was a guest of a friend, at that. I know there's a white dress and flowers involved, but that's about it."

And Bucky's sisters had nearly bowled her over with all sorts of questions, from colors, to refreshments, to plate patterns, to bridesmaids; her head had been spinning with all of those details.

"Nope because we literally decided to get married less than a week ago," Bucky points out. "I know it has to be fast but it doesn't have to be in twenty four hours. We are resting in this bed today. No talking about work, weddings, or you know who. We are relaxing. We are having a good time. Stop stressing so much."

Bucky sighs a little and plays with her hair. "I'll help you with all the wedding stuff from top to bottom, I promise, it just doesn't have to happen right this second. Do we have a deal?"

This time, Natasha couldn't help the mildly exasperated roll of her eyes, and the soft huff that went with it. But she was smiling, albeit indulgently, when she turned her gaze back to her bedmate. "All right, all right, 'Dr. Bucky'...I'll shut up about everything. Will that suit you?" But she was teasing, evidenced by the slight upward turn of her lips and the hidden mirth in green eyes.

"What would you like to talk about, then?"

They were relaxing, nearly wrapped around one another, Natasha suddenly realized, but it wasn't...a bad thing. She was comfortable, and safe, and these soft, gentle touches were actually helping her to unwind, unbend just a little. Bucky's hand still rested at her waist, Natasha's knee over his thigh, and without thinking, she brought a hand to his shoulder, feathering a light, gentle touch upwards to brush against his cheek.

"Mmm, well, let's talk about how beautiful you are," Bucky says, laughing softly. She's wrapped up around him and this is exactly where he wants to be. There's no place in the world that's better than this one right here and he tilts into her touch before speaking again.

"All I can think about is running my mouth all over your body and trying to find every freckle you have. You have a couple, you know. Not too many - you stay inside and stay pale and pretty - but you have a few and I'm curious to figure out where they all are."

He pauses for a moment. "I want you. Every moment of every day. Even if it's just holding you like this, Natasha."

"...you really know how to make a girl blush, James Barnes," Natasha said in a low voice, feeling one heat her cheeks, her neck, and chest. Her lashes lowered, chin ducking slightly. She was hardly used to such compliments, although hearing them in his delicious baritone did things way down below her stomach. Natasha wasn't naïve enough not to recognize desire when she felt it; it had simply been a while since it'd last paid her a visit.

She knew she should play coy, coquettish, and flirt right back, but her tongue had all but frozen in her mouth, not used to playing such games. Instead, Natasha continued her light exploration of her intended's tattoos, delicate fingertips skating along a few outlines.

"How many tattoos do you have?" she murmured, truly curious. "They're all so intricate..."

"God, I think I lost count after twenty," Bucky admits, laughing softly. It's nice, the way she's tracing her fingers over them, though, and he pulls her fingers down to a blank space on his wrist. It's the only blank space he's got on either of his arms and it's right there on his right wrist - prime real estate.

"Getting one for you right there. I mean, you'll get more than one," Bucky assures her. "But that's where the first one is going so everyone can see your name. You're not supposed to get names tattooed on you, it's bad luck, but I'm gonna hope you're not going anywhere?"

If she does, he's not sure if he can recover from that but they're not going to borrow trouble today.

Before he moved her hand, Natasha queried, "Didn't they hurt?" She was terrified of needles in all fashions, so getting a tattoo had never been anything she'd considered. Then she started a bit, realizing what he'd just said. "My name? Right here on your arm?" Oh, God. But, it was supposed to be flattering, she knew, even if she couldn't help the flush that flooded her cheeks. Again.

God, but this man just had the most uncanny way of making her feel...warm.

"That's...that's so sweet, James." A soft smile followed the words, and a gentle little chuckle. "Not planning on going anywhere," she reassured him. Turning her hand over in his, she guided his palm to her tummy. "I'll be good and weighted down in just a few months, so no chance, mister."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject