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"Baby girl, if you don't want me getting into trouble with you, that's long since past. I'll wear my uniform, though. I don't want to get slapped the night before I have to go to Germany. I know a nice Italian place I want to take you to anyway. Need to dress up a little and I haven't worn my suit since basic. Might be a little snug now."

He gives her another longing look and when he returns, much later, he's dressed in his dress uniform and not the fatigues he'd been in during the day. He's freshly shaved and worn a little of his carefully-hoarded Old Spice because he feels like he ought to really make it special for the last time he's likely to see Natalia.

"Stark still piling paperwork on you, doll? Or can we get out of here?"

She'd just come out of Stark's office after handing off the transcripts, adjusting Howard's schedule, making a list of things he'd need to pack and going over it with Jarvis, and running the armory chief through the inventory of what to take and what to leave when they departed tomorrow night. White-tired around the eyes, her skirt wrinkled and her blouse a little haphazard, Natalia rounded the corner back to her own closet-cum-office, and nearly collided with her "date", grinning and looking like a million bucks.

Her weary eye nevertheless took in the small details; his slanted grin, brilliant smile, uniform pressed and creased to inspection-perfection, the shine on his gleaming shoes, the absolutely clean edge of his jaw where he'd no doubt shaved probably ten minutes ago. No doubt about it, James Barnes cleaned up pretty damn good.

And he smelled absolutely edible, she realized, stepping a little closer to let one of the construction teams pass in the narrow hallway. One of the workers leered at her as they trooped by, clicking his tongue and giving her a salacious wink, both of which she ignored, albeit she did roll her eyes, exasperated, but nodded at James as she opened the door and stepped into her workspace.

"Just delivered the last. He'll be packing tonight and all day tomorrow, and gave me the night off to do my own, so I'm officially done for the day." Shouldering her purse, she started for the door, then hesitated, glancing aside, suddenly nervous. "Um...is it okay if...I mean, would you mind if we went by my place first?" She gestured at her overall rumpled appearance. "I'm a mess, and you look...wonderful. I need to change clothes, at least, maybe redo my hair, fix my face...something."

She ran out of words and stood there covertly wringing her hands, a little nonplussed.

"I'm not seeing anything to complain about," Bucky says, giving her a leisurely once-over. "But I don't mind swinging by your place if you want to powder your nose. Don't worry about a wallet, either - I'm taking care of everything."

He gets paid damn well, as an officer, and he should be paying for anything she wants on this date. He opens the door for her and guides her out onto the street before hailing a cab.

"Tell 'im the address, baby girl, and we can get going."

She locked her office door and fled with Bucky in tow, before anything else could intrude. Sliding into the cab without hesitation, Natalia gave the driver an address in uptown Manhattan, not too far from their current location. Jarvis usually drove her to and from the laboratory, but she'd assured him that she didn't need a chauffeur tonight and tomorrow morning; she'd be perfectly capable of finding her own way. He'd disapproved, but hadn't argued.

Once they'd arrived at her building, she climbed out of the cab, thankful for James's strong arm. The doorman greeted Miss Rushman respectfully, doffing his cap and politely inquiring as to her guest. She gave him a dollar from her purse, thanking him, and informing the old man that she and her companion would be going out to dinner then returning quite late, so if he'd please keep an eye out, she'd be grateful.

Stark had appropriated a modest dwelling for her on the tenth floor, a corner apartment that was sparsely furnished despite its renovated elegance; there were few keepsakes, and just enough furniture to be functional. The place did sport a beautiful view of the city skyline, however, and Natalia invited her soldier inside, immediately kicking off her work shoes as she turned on the lights.

"So...I don't really live with a roommate," she confessed, placing her purse on the small table and slowly turning to face Bucky. "I don't...I've never...really brought anyone else here, James." Just to have something to do, she rested her fingers on the back of the upholstered chair. "Working for Howard Stark is its own brand of paranoia, and security measures are...well...strict." One way of putting it.

"Does it--," and God how she hated having to portray this image; the shy, earnest schoolgirl, "--are you mad?"

Bucky frowns for a moment, trying to work out why he would potentially be angry that Natalia hadn't ever brought a guy back to her place before. He usually brings girls back to his unless he's invited up and it's not such a strange thing.

"Why would I be mad about it? You're just telling me that Stark wants to keep track of his people, which - it doesn't shock me. He's an inventor. He'd never want anyone to see what he's working on and anyone who potentially had access, he'd keep them close so they couldn't sneak off with his plans."

It doesn't make sense to him, at all, and he feels his brow furrowing a little. He steps forward, more into Natalia's space, and lays his hand over hers on the chair.

Natalia turned her hand over when his came to rest over hers, interlacing their fingers together. "Most guys would be put out that their girl wasn't entirely truthful, James." Or so she'd thought. It seemed she learned something new about these "Americans" every single day.

She had to bite the inside of her lip tightly, however, because she was currently deeply involved in doing exactly what he'd just said. Unbeknownst to Stark, of course, as well as the entire American military. It had never occurred to them that a pretty face could be more dangerous than a thousand dropped bombs. Well, they would learn.

But for now, she simply lifted her face, parting her lips as she rose on her toes for a soft, lingering kiss, giving a slight moan at his sweet, sweet taste. "I'm glad you understand," she whispered, then slipped away, stepping around him to head further into her apartment.

"Give me fifteen minutes," she called from the hallway. "Make yourself...comfortable, I guess. Be right back."

Bucky settles on her couch, waiting for her to come back. He would have taken her to dinner just as she was but if she wants to dress up and look classy for the place, even better. She's the most beautiful woman he's ever seen and knowing he's been with her is surreal.

As he waits, he looks around a little bit. Other than the gorgeous city view, there's not a lot of things in her place that speak to what she likes, what makes her comfortable. It could be anyone's place, really, standing empty and looking to be made into a home.

When she comes back out, he lets out a low whistle. "Darlin', you're trying to kill me before the Germans do."

She'd opted for something semi-formal, a pretty navy cocktail dress with a short jacket to match, both fitting her like a second skin and the lacework across her bodice a pleasant friction. Opting to leave her hair down, simply held away from her face by two diamond combs, she'd added a small necklace and earrings to match, and hastily applied fresh lipstick before tugging on her shoes. (She'd forewent the stockings, this time.)

Hearing James's whistle and seeing those blue eyes light right up when they saw her was thrilling, however, and she flushed softly, giving him a soft smile. "There you go again," she teased, shifting a few essentials from her everyday bag to a smaller black purse, understated against her outfit, "over-exaggerating outrageously, Sergeant Barnes."

Natalia came back around the couch, holding out her hand. "I bet you say that to all the girls, don't you?"

"No," Bucky says sincerely. "I don't say that to all the girls. I say that to you, Natalie, and just you."

She's absolutely beautiful and he curses his bad luck that he's only managed to meet her when he's run out of time. They can't be together. Even writing letters - there's a chance he'll die. There's a chance the spark will die after time apart. Not for him, though. His feelings for Natalie Rushman aren't going to change.

"C'mon. Let's go before we miss our reservation. I picked the nicest place I could afford."

The restaurant was very nice, a place Howard hadn't bothered to investigate in his dining spree. Which suited Natalia perfectly fine. No chance of being recognized by any of the staff or other patrons. Although she'd never been here before, the scents wafting out of the place were wonderful, and she sniffed eagerly as they got out of the taxi.

Bucky escorted her inside with all the panache of a true gentleman, his hand at her back to guide her along, and he waved the server away to hold her chair himself. She didn't miss the minute nervousness he tried to hide; Natalia once more reminded herself that she was setting them both up for heartbreak down the road. But she couldn't...she just couldn't get up and walk out now.

Not when he was gazing at her with those beautiful eyes, his heart beating painfully on his sleeve, and taking and kissing her hand after sliding his chair around to sit closer to hers, clearly wanting to shower her with affection and commitment, a house and a white picket fence, the whole deal. She wanted to cry, behind her perfect porcelain mask.

"Everything's good but I have to recommend the ziti and the tiramisu if you want to save room for dessert," Bucky says. "I came here one time after my sister got married. Cost my entire's week pay but it was worth it. I was still tossing papers in high school back then, though."

He gets paid better now, a lot better, and he's glad he can spoil her just a little. He's never been this turned around by a girl and he wants to show Natalie oe last good night.

"Don't want to leave tomorrow. Maybe I'll get to see you in Switzerland on leave, though?"

She gave him a mildly reproachful look. "James, you shouldn't be spending your money on me, you know. Save it, for when you need it." Their waiter passed by with glasses and wine, the rich red sweet on her tongue. "Your sisters are older, yes?" He'd mentioned more than one, and she was intrigued by that.

The mention of Switzerland sobered her a little, though, and her fingers tightened around his. "...maybe." Hopefully. "I know Howard's going to be doing a lot of work for the soldiers at the front, so it's possible we'll be nearby a time or two, but..." Natalia shook her head. "I-I really can't talk much about it, James." She did know that the Commandos weren't going to be going directly to the main front, however. The Army had other missions for those elite soldiers.

She let him order for them both, and the garlic bread arrived first, along with their salads. Rather than dwell on the near future, blood, pain, and death, Natalia picked up a breadstick, broke it in half, and offered a piece to her sweet soldier, smiling softly. "Hungry, Sergeant?"

He's not, really, but he takes the breadstick anyway and chews mechanically. He orders a bottle of wine for them which, again, isn't really in his budget but he's going to do it anyway. Natalie deserves a nice night out before they're separated - and possibly for forever.

"I'm scared," Bucky admits softly. "To go. It makes me a coward, I know that, but I'm scared. I'm scared I won't be able to keep the men in my unit safe. I'm scared Steve'll die even though they popped him full of that serum. I'm scared I'm the weakest part of this strike team going in against HYDRA and the Germans - I'm just a marksman. Anyone can shoot a gun, Natalie. I don't do anything special."

He swallows a gulp of wine and traces his fingers against the tablecloth, watching it even though there's nothing there to see. "I'm scared to die."

Hearing this, she sobered. "It's not cowardice to be afraid, James." She could testify first-hand to that, after all. "It's what...well, it's what makes us human. What makes us strive even harder to survive. Fear can be a weapon, if you let it." She dropped the small bite of bread and reached for his other hand, shifting in her seat so she could grip both of his in hers.

"You're willing to go," she reminded him, catching those blue eyes. "That's special right there, isn't it?" Her thumbs stroked over the back of his hands. "And you admit that you're scared. Most men wouldn't. At least you're going into this with your eyes open, not hoping for glory and honor and all the other fantasies most men dream about.

"Besides," she added, forcing a small smile, solely for his benefit, "I'm not going to let you die." Natalia lifted both of his hands, pressing a soft, deliberate kiss on the back of each. "There," she said. "Now you're protected. You'll be safe, and come home again."

"Not that easy, Natalie," Bucky says lowly, closing his eyes a bit. He's terrified of it and he's afraid he won't come back, he won't see her again or, worse, somehow she and Steve don't make it and he does. How does he live with that? How does anyone live with that?"

Bucky lets out a slow, soft breath and tries to get his head back into this date and not on a battlefield he hasn't even seen yet. What he knows of Germany is what he's seen on newsreels and they try to keep those positive, try to talk about how the way the Allieds are winning.

"I'm on a strike team. We're in shit more dangerous than everyone else, Howard's got us all outfitted with his special weapons. I've got less of a chance of coming back alive than the enlisted."

No, she knew it wasn't that easy. She wished she could tell him, tell him that she understood, that she knew all about the throat-closing fear that came from being threatened with death, or worse. But to share that would be signing her own death warrant. So Natalia kept her silence, held his hands tighter, and offered what quiet sympathy she could.

"Howard's been working really hard for your unit," she finally said softly. "Some of his creations...I've never even imagined things like that." And that was also the truth. "He's working very diligently to keep you and your team safe, James." She had to smile slightly, thinking of Stark. "He might be an eccentric idiot sometimes, but he knows what a man's life is worth."

She dropped one of his hands to stroke the other with hers. "Come back to me," she entreated softly, running her fingertips over his skin. "You're not there yet. Don't go before it's time, James. Come back and be here, with me."

"I don't want to cut this date short," Bucky says, letting out a low, soft noise at the touch of her hands. It's relaxing him more than he thought it could and he could go the rest of his life knowing just this touch and be satisfied with it. She means so much to him already.

"I can't ask you to commit to me. I'm going into a goddamn war and I'm going to be in the most dangerous part of it - but if I write you letters, will you accept them from me? I just need to know there's someone out there who wants to hear from me."

Steve's gonna be with him, so he's not worried about leaving things unsaid, but he's afraid he won't get to say everything he needs to before he goes. He takes a deep breath and lets it out. He can do this. Even if she rejects him, he has to say it.

"I'm falling...I've fallen in love with you, Natalie," he says, still holding her hands in his. "And I'm afraid to leave you."

Her heart dropped right into the pit of her stomach, hearing that. It was exactly what she'd been fearing, and now she was going to be responsible for breaking this good man's heart into a thousand shattered pieces. Guilt hit her like a brick. Every instruction she'd learned against this very thing came screaming back to her, clawing at the inside of her mind until she wanted to scream with it.

The only outward sign of her inner turmoil was a soft blush, high on her cheeks and spreading down her throat and collar. Which would also be attributed to the fact that a handsome soldier had just declared his love for her, a pretty young woman anyone would believe was nothing more than a legal secretary to some high-powered corporate executive.

Natalia bit her lower lip, hard, but knew she had to say something. So she forced herself to nod, giving a small, hesitant smile. "...of course I will." She chewed on her lip a little more. "But," and there was always a 'but', wasn't there, "...but you shouldn't, James. Love me, I mean." Hating herself, she shook her head, but didn't let go of his hands. "We barely even know each other, and with the war, and everything, all the secrets--the security..."

Their dishes arrived right about then, the smiling wait staff presenting the meal with a flourish. Natalia slowly let go of Bucky's hands and pulled away lightly, forcing her face back into its pleasant mask. She answered the staff's queries with soft replies, placing her napkin properly in her lap and feeling as if she'd just taken a long dive off of a short cliff.

"I know," Bucky says softly. He hadn't expected a positive response, really. They barely know one another and he's leaving for a war tomorrow. There's no time for anything and no reason to ask her to wait for him. There's nothing substantial to build an engagement on, much less a marriage, and he's letting words spill out that shouldn't be said.

"Food's good though, isn't it? If you don't like it, send it back." Talking about the food is easier. The food isn't Natalie, looking beautiful and perfect and completely unaffected across the table from him. She'd turned him down (gently, admittedly) and gone right back to being cordial and polite with the wait staff as if nothing had happened.

"I shouldn't have told you that," Bucky says after a third glass of wine has loosened his tongue. "Before, what I told you before. It doesn't...it doesn't change that I mean it but I shouldn't have said it. Look, I'm going to head out. Let me pay for this and make sure you've got enough for a cab, all right?"

The food was good, she supposed, for all that it tasted like ashes in her mouth, the wine like vinegar. But slowly, she felt her shield coming back up, as she pushed her heart back into its little iron box. Between them, however, they polished off the entire bottle, and she was just about to turn and say something - she had no idea what, but the silence had lingered too long - but before she could, James was shaking his head and beat her to the punch.

After he finished, Natalia sat and just stared at him, not quite believing what she'd heard. "..what? Oh." She dropped her eyes, picked up her napkin, wringing it in her hands. "All right." But she stopped him from reaching for his wallet. "I don't need a cab," she assured him, straightening her jacket. "My place isn't far, I can walk." And really, she preferred it, the chilly night air would help cool her burning skin.

She didn't give him time to object, swallowing her disappointed hurt - but what had she honestly expected? It is the only way, Natalia - and heading for the front doors, realizing with a sinking heart that it had already begun to rain. Still, that wasn't going to deter her; she'd lived through worse in worse conditions, really. She wasn't some blushing ingenue. So Natalia squared her shoulders, stepped out under the building's awning, and rose up on her toes to kiss James's cheek when he joined her outside.

"Good night, James." Friendly, sweet, with none of the irrational longing that jerked hopelessly on her own heartstrings. "And good luck, although I know you won't really need it." A soft smile, another fond kiss, then she stepped out into the rain, clutching her jacket tight and heading off up the street, towards Lexington.

Bucky puts his hands in his pockets and walks in the opposite direction for a while but even the nice brim on his Army cap is doing shit all to keep the rain off his face. He knows how to get to Natalie's, knowing it's just about fifteen blocks the other direction, and it's an easy enough walk for him even with the rain coming down.

He's miserably soaked by the time he sees her doorman and luckily the guy recognizes him and lets him go on up. Natalie's apartment is on a high floor so when he's in the elevator, it takes a little while with people getting on and off at lower floors. Eventually, though, he's in the corridor where her apartment is and he takes off his cap to tuck it under his elbow before he knocks. He's hoping Natalie is still up and not asleep; but if she is, he guesses he'll just have to write her in care of Howard.

He raps lightly at her door and leans against the frame, waiting to see if she's going to answer or if she's already asleep for the night.

Walter had buzzed her apartment right after he'd let the Sergeant inside, informing her that she had visitor but not giving any other details. Natalia had then mustered up enough energy to put on a robe, figuring that it was probably Howard or Jarvis, coming by regardless of the hour with some trivial detail, task, or cone of information. So she shoved her still-damp hair out of her face, tied the sash on her robe - she was still cold, on the inside - and shuffled through her dark dwelling to unlock and open the door when she heard the light knock.

The hall light made her blink, and she recognized the individual silhouetted in the glare as not Howard or Jarvis, but a soaked-through, dripping James Barnes. Stubbornly ignoring the gleeful leap of her stomach, Natalia just hugged her arms, stared at him, and finally said, with a modicum of surprise, "...James." Her eyes were still red, and her cheeks ashen.

"...what are you doing here?"

"Felt like I ought to apologize," Bucky says. He's dripping water all over her stoop and he's pretty sure that his shoes are never going to dry out. The Army's not going to like that too much but right now, he doesn't much care what the US Army thinks.

"I couldn't let us go and not...I didn't want that to be the last memory we had of one another," Bucky says. "Especially since we have no way of knowing what's going to happen once we get over there."

He's scared to death of dying, scared of loss, scared of everything. He's never shown this vulnerable side to anyone, preferring to bury it deep down beneath cockiness and charm so he can forget it exists. He's made a connection with Natalie, though, and he can't let their last words be practically an argument.

"I had to make it better. I had to fix it - or at least try to fix it as best I could."

If she were smart, she'd slam the door in his face and go back to bed, ignoring the piteous pleas of her own heart. But, because he was there; he'd come back; Natalia, after a moment, opened the door further and moved aside for him to come in.

"You're dripping all over the floor," she noted, closing and locking the door again. She turned on a lamp, flooding the apartment with gentle warm light. "Get out of those wet clothes so I can hang them in the tub." A brief rummage in her closet saw her returning with a couple of plain white towels and a larger terrycloth robe, one large enough to swallow her - she'd filched it from a hotel in Spain on one of Howard's "business trips, because it was warm and comfortable and perfect for her to snuggle beneath.

"Here. This is all I have that might fit you." Natalia draped the garments over the back of the chair, then moved into the small kitchen. "Coffee? Tea? Something warm, at least." She put water in the kettle, lit the stove, and set the pot to boil, fetching two cups from the cabinet.

She wasn't entirely sure why he'd come back, but she did know she couldn't afford to let herself get invol--oh, that was such bullshit, she scolded herself. She was more than involved, and now she had to deal with the consequences.

It doesn't take long for Bucky to change into the robe and when she offers him tea, he nods. He's a coffee guy in the morning, just like most American guys, but he's always liked a nicely done cup of tea in the afternoon. It's what happens when you're raised almost entirely by women.

"Didn't mean to be dripping everywhere," Bucky says, still scrubbing water from his hair. "Rain got started and there wasn't anywhere I could get an umbrella this time of night." And, well, it'd fit his mood. He has a different mood now.

"You need any help in the kitchen?"

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