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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."

"Yeah, well, you have really been trying not to get weighted down so you gotta forgive a man for being a little paranoid," Bucky says, laughing softly. It's not as easy a laugh as he wants to give because he is still a little worried she'll bolt but if Natasha's telling him she wants to stay put, he's got to accept that. No more running.

"As far as any of them hurting? Well, the ones on my ribs hurt some. Oh, shit, you haven't seen the new one yet have you? Well, I guess they probably all run together for you, you haven't really been spending that much time with me naked."

Bucky rolls over a little so he's on his stomach. "Look about...two inches south of my shoulderblade. Left side. It's lyrics. I think it's probably kind of vain to get my own lyrics tattooed on me but it's our song. It's not done, just the linework for right now, but it won't take but another session."

When he turned over, Natasha obediently followed Bucky's direction and slid her eyes down his back, eyebrows going up to see the small lines of letters. Her lips moved as she read them, and a slow flush stained her cheeks when she realized that she was, indeed, reading "Ivy" across his skin. Gentle fingertips slowly drifted over the ink, digits trembling slightly.

"Are...are you having the entire song done?" That would be...insane, she thought, wondering where all of the words were going to even fit. "This ink isn't unhealthy, is it?" Because if he was deliberately getting all of this art done at the expense of his health, she was going to clobber him with the breakfast tray.

"Nah, just the chorus. And if tattoo ink was gonna kill me, I would have been dead twenty tattoos ago," Bucky points out. "It's not in my veins, doll, it's just right under the upper layer of my skin. It's not going anywhere, I promise. The only place it goes is out and that's when I need to get touch-ups."

He stretches his hand up so she can see it. "See these on my knuckles? I have to get them redone all the time because the ink is always migrating out. Now, if you want me to get something really painful and dangerous, you can always try to talk me into a piercing. Depending on what it is, I might do it."

A moue of mild exasperation crimped her lips when he pointed out the obvious, and Natasha couldn't help but give those inked ribs a bit of a sharp poke. But she obligingly shifted over to look closer at his knuckles, noting the faded designs in the creases of his skin.

"Um, no," Natasha shook her head, negating his offer of a piercing. "I hate needles, in all forms, shapes, or fashions, so I will most definitely pass, thanks. And you don't have to get any to impress me, I promise."

She resumed her place at his side, head propped on one hand as she reclined on the pillows, facing him. "I don't even have pierced ears, myself. I just always use the fake ones."

"Really? I figured you just got 'em done as a baby. That's what my sisters did," Bucky says. He doesn't remember a time when his sisters didn't have pierced ears and while he'd done his in a garage as a teenager, he doesn't think that's a story to tell Natasha. Or about his first tattoo being a scratcher from some guy who had just done time in jail for dope.

"You think you're gonna be ok with medical stuff? Or should we go look into midwives and doing things natural? Susan went granola for her second one and did the whole home birth thing. Everything came out great and she liked it a lot."

Natasha didn't say anything outright, but her expression fell just a little when he mentioned her as a baby. She hadn't known her parents, nor even if she still possessed any blood-kin at all. But she didn't point it out, as doing so might be...undiplomatic.

Instead, she just shifted about to sit up again, propping several pillows behind her and tugging up the sheet to cover her lap, absently fiddling with the fine silken hem. "I'll be fine," she assured him, her "soothing" PR voice back on display again. Even though she was still terrified, inside.

"My obstetrician is very good, and I like her a lot. I...think I'd rather rely on medical science for this, if that's all right with you."

"Hey, you're the one having the baby," Bucky says. "I want you to do what makes you feel safe and comfortable. I was just saying I was open to doing it more...holistically if you were into that. But hey, I'm about hospitals and doctors myself even if I look like a walking tetanus infection."

Bucky slides his arm around her. "I can't wait to go to the doctor with you. It's gonna be great. I mean...I'm terrified, don't get me wrong, but I think it's gonna be wonderful too. So I think that should balance out some of the terrified."

Natasha let him hold her, leaning into his embrace slightly. "Just...promise me you won't be one of those mates who questions everything the medical staff does, tries to poke his nose into their work, and demands details every other minute, please?" She'd seen a few of those, and they'd absolutely been horrible.

"You can drive," she told him then, a little teasing imperiousness threading in her voice. "And carry my bag. Maybe. And not make the staff impossibly paranoid." A perfect eyebrow rose. "Think you can manage that, Mr. Barnes?"

"Why the fuck would I question the people who went to school for that shit? Makes no sense. I'm gonna ask a ton of questions," Bucky warns. "I'm never gonna just sit there and not ask anything because I've never had a baby before and I wanna know what's going on."

When she teases him about driving and carrying her bag, he laughs softly. "Yeah, I'll haul your shit around. And you. And anything you could possibly want or desire or need."

Natasha couldn't help but laugh at his outraged snort. "I don't know. Some men do," she added with a shrug. "Drives their women crazy, too." She sighed at his latter words, unconsciously sliding down in the bed a little.

"I'm...still not really used to that," she confessed, pushing her messy braid back over a pale shoulder. "Being taken care of, I mean." Natasha rested a hand atop Bucky's arm, around her middle, stroking back and forth slightly. "And I'm grateful, I am. It's...it'll just take a while for me to get used to it, is all."

Offering a small smile, the redhead tilted to lean her head against her fiancé's, gently rubbing his forehead with her temple. "...so, be patient with me?"

"I got plenty of patience. They taught me that in Catholic school," Bucky teases. "You know, the like year I went there. Public school is better. Better sports."

And he'd met Steve in public school, too, so it's better by default. He doesn't think he's going to let his kid go to public school, though. Not because it's bad - it isn't - but he doesn't want the attention of the paparazzi all the damn time. Kid should have a chance to grow up without cameras in their face as much as possible.

"But you don't have to worry about a thing. Never again. I've got all of this for you, you know?"

Realizing that talk was probably...pointless, at this juncture, Natasha settled back down against her soon-to-be-husband and closed her eyes, hoping to doze away the rest of the afternoon. Bucky's idea of spending the day in bed was turning out to be a good one, especially since she'd never done so before.

Her breathing slowed, and thankfully her belly was calm, and it wasn't too long before Natasha did indeed slip into a light slumber, a stray ray of warm Pacific sunshine gilding her cheek as she slept. It slowly moved across her face as the afternoon waned, but the redhead never stirred, still too comfortable in her intended's embrace.

Bucky just watches her for a minute, sleeping peacefully, and then he strokes Natasha's hair before cuddling up to go to sleep himself. He meant he was gonna take a day in bed and today's the perfect day to do it. He dozes himself for a while and when he wakes up, Natasha is still quiet and dozing beside him.

"Hey, babe, I think it's dinner time," he says softly. "We slept for a really long time. Do you wanna get up or do you want me to leave you and get up later?"

Natasha stirred at the sound of Bucky's voice, blinking awake with a small yawn. "...dinner time?" God, did she really sleep the entire day? "Uh, get up, I guess." Because now she needed to pee. Another wonderful gift of being pregnant; her bladder sometimes felt like it was the size of a grape. Her cheeks flushed as she admitted, "...gotta make a bathroom run, um, yeah."

She took a few minutes in the lavish bathroom to wash her face, brush her teeth, and generally "wake up", considering she'd been asleep for all of the freaking day. It was her own face in the mirror, but her skin frigging glowed, her normally pale cheeks were becomingly flushed, and her eyes were far greener than she'd ever seen before, framed by naturally thick black lashes.

And her breasts, Christ! Full beneath her long ivory gown, they ached something awful, and turning sideways, Natasha definitely noticed that they were almost a third larger than normal, and she'd always been "full-figured", despite her petite frame. She really should have worn a bra to bed, given her bedmate, but didn't she deserve some comfort, too?

Although...opening the bathroom door and getting a nice, long look at the vision waiting for her in that massive platform bed, the reptile part of Natasha's brain idly wondered why she was bothering to wear clothes at all. Because not even Picasso could have done justice to the healthy serving of completely virile make that lounged atop the covers, relaxed and on full display without even realizing it.

It just wasn't fucking fair.

Bucky opens his eyes and sees Natasha in the bathroom so he takes a moment to have a full-body stretch because he's genuinely just a red-blooded male and he wants to show off a little bit in hopes that Natasha likes what she sees. He guesses she likes him well enough that she's gonna marry him but he wants...everything.

"You doing all right in there or are you feeling sick? Because I can go get you some more tea if you need it. It won't take me very long, promise."

He wants to make sure she's all right no matter what.

Still frozen in the bathroom doorway, Natasha finally found her tongue. Again. "--'m good," she managed to get out, clearing her throat a little nervously. Placing a hand to her belly, she added, "All quiet, for now. ...though I might be hungry in a little while." She didn't want him to leap up and immediately dash down to the kitchen.

She didn't really know what to do now; should she get dressed? Sit on the edge of the bed? Go back to "her" room? Instead of any of the above, Natasha meandered to the wide bay windows, standing just shy of the balcony and rubbed her arms, enjoying the prickle of the cool Pacific air. "The view is gorgeous," she observed, long nightgown billowing around her slightly. "I could sit outside all day just to watch the sunset from up here."

Bucky watches her cross over to the window and she's just...beautiful. There's nothing more beautiful in his eyes than Natasha anyway but the pregnancy looks good on her. Her breasts are fuller, there's a little curve to her belly, her skin is glowing.

He gets out of bed and crosses over to her so he can wrap his arms around her from behind. "You could, you know. Stay up here and watch the sunsets. It's not like I'm going to complain because I want you here anyway."

Maybe it's better to ask forgiveness than permission so he leans down and buries his face against Natasha's neck before kissing her. "You could stay here forever."

She heard him get out of bed, but still briefly stiffened in surprise when she felt his arms slide around her. But almost immediately, she relaxed into his hold, and Natasha started to say something about how she could never really be that lazy, but the words froze when she felt Bucky's light scruff rasp against her tender skin.

Oh...

Then came the press of his lips and for some strange, odd reason, Natasha just wanted to melt. The press of skin against hers felt...good, so unfamiliar but perfect just the same, so she suddenly turned in his arms and wound her own around Bucky's neck, only to sway closer, inch up on her toes, and kiss him this time, fully and thoroughly.

After a blitzed thirty seconds, she blinked as she leaned away, and a quiet little, "...okay," left parted lips before she once again took his mouth with hers.

God, the kiss is good and Bucky slides his hands into her hair and buries them deep before kissing her again. This is all he's wanted to do since he met her and especially since she told him she was having his kid. He just wants to be with her and have a relationship with love and companionship and he'd been a little afraid it would never be like that.

(Maybe that was stupid, to think Natasha would never be with him again ever.)

He breaks the kiss a few times just for air and slides his hand down to cup her breast because he just can't fucking help himself.

She mewed and nearly lurched when his hand settled over a breast, because the shock of that touch was electric. Natasha broke their kiss, only far enough to pant, "God, they're so sensitive." But rather than push Bucky's hand away, her back arched, rubbing her body against his, almost needingly. "...and they ache, too..."

Then her arms resumed their coil around his neck, and she kissed him again, and again, and again, finally panting softly against his mouth, their lips parted and wet. "...James," Natasha heard herself moan, bright eyes glazed and almost unfocused. He was there, and beautiful, gilded with the evening's last light, and Natasha felt her belly clench again, this time not because of her pregnancy.

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