love is for children

The relief was clear on his face when she’d agreed to his request. He didn’t know if it worked but if there was even the slightest chance that it would help him clear his own Hydra-fried brain he was willing to do it, and now he had help. Steve had of course been instrumental in helping him get to the relatively stable mind he had now, but no words of advice or support had gotten him any closer to figuring out who the woman was. Maybe all he really did need was a fresh pair of well… ears. Bucky knew he would have to tread carefully though and not push his boundaries with Natasha. She was willing to help yes but he couldn’t take advantage of that assistance. He’d roughed up Steve a bit when his memories would trigger the ‘fight’ response in him, and even though he knew first hand that she could handle herself, he didn’t want that to happen with her.

He stared blankly down at the ground when Natasha had dismissed herself to answer the call. What if I don’t like what I uncover. What if I.. did something to her. Maybe they wiped every trace of her from my memory for a reason… These were the thoughts that currently plagued him. Bucky hunched forward again and brought his hands up to his ears, his anxiety bubbling at the surface again. Would he want to remember? Had he become a danger to himself and that’s why they erased her? To control him? The possibilities were endless and quite frankly he was growing more terrified by the second. ‘What I found to be most helpful is just letting myself remember instead of trying to forget, including the bad parts. Of course, with me, it was mostly bad.‘ He took a deep breath as Nat’s words played over in his mind, they hadn’t even started yet and he was already on edge. If she could force herself to relive the worst parts of her past then why shouldn’t he? Who was she? Bucky forced deep breaths, hoping Natasha was too distracted with her call to notice him, and played her words over and over in his mind as a mantra to try and calm himself down when another voice broke through, ‘Don’t break so easy, Soldat. We’ve got all night.’

Bucky’s head whipped up, startled at the voice, his gaze meeting Natasha’s. He’d paled considerably but swallowed when he realised she was waiting for a response from him. “Uhhm. Hmm? Uhh, yeah sure?” What had she asked? He couldn’t recall, all he could think about was that voice. Familiar yet completely foreign to him. Russian. That made sense, a little. But.. that had to be real too? The shiver he felt run through him told him it was. It was clear now that Hydra had taken great pains to remove his memory of her from him and now with Natasha’s advice and her words ringing in his ears he knew he had to see this through no matter how it might hurt him.

Natasha was sure that he was going to say no to Pepper's offer to go to dinner. After all, he and Tony weren't the best of friends. While Tony's over the whole trying to kill him because he killed his parents thing, he was still pretty much pissed. 'Great. I'll set the table for five then. See you later, Nat.' Pepper was her normal, upbeat self. Motherhood looked good on her. Natasha was thankful that they've become friends overtime despite the nature of their initial meeting. When the hologram faded, Natasha was able to see the Soldier better. He was pale, tense. He wasn't like this a couple of minutes ago, what happened? "That's brave of you." She said, slowly making her way back onto the couch, sitting closer to him than she was before she got up.

"Then again, it's just dinner. I'm sure Tony won't mind." Now that she was closer to him, she could see the beads of sweat on his forehead. Natasha took her time observing him, making sure he was okay. Maybe going to the lake house would be good for him, she decided. The tension between him and Tony wasn't as bad as it was before, and Pepper was there. And Morgan was an angel. He needed to have new people in his life, normal people who weren't her or Steve. If he does act up during dinner, she was confident that she'd be able to do what she had to do to stop whatever. But she had faith in him. 

“I guess so.” He mumbled with a small nod, too far into his own head to notice the change in her voice. It frustrated him that he was so close to putting everything back together but was missing one final piece. After seeing what he did watching Natasha dance he was certain she wasn’t a figment of his imagination. If she were the vision surely wouldn’t have felt like a punch to the gut. Bucky brought his attention back to Natasha, finally turning in his seat to face her fully and pulled one leg up onto the couch. An anchor. That made sense sort of, Steve had been his after all. His mind returned to the feeling in his gut he had when he was fighting him on that Helicarrier all those years ago. How seeing him so broken, uttering those words that had torn the veil that had been keeping him from seeing who he really was.

“Would you be okay with me continuing to watch you dance then?” He asked abruptly, the distant look in his eyes returning to focus on her, “If she is, maybe if I keep listening to those songs you dance to something else might trigger. I don’t… I don’t know anything else about her. It’s a long shot but what if it’s the key? I think if I remember who she is I might be able to fill in the other blanks. I know you don’t owe me anything after all the times I’ve hurt you but… will you help me?” There was a renewed sense of hope in his eyes, an expression that hadn’t graced his features for a long time.

Bucky had leant forward the entire time he spoke only moving back to put some space between them when she had asked about Steve. “He does, he’s the one that wakes me up because I’d be yelling and thrashing in my sleep. More than a few occasions it’s been because I had been dreaming of her.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “He doesn’t know who it could be either. I’d… had relationships before I left for the war, but none of them were that serious. He’s about as clueless as we are really.”

He was trying his best to remember, she knew that now, or at least the memories HYDRA has hidden away were trying to break through. That's how important their time together to him was. For that, she was glad, because at one point in time she was convinced that it had all just been a test, a dream she made up because of her boredom. Natasha was conflicted on whether or not to just tell him. It pained her to see him struggling like this. But at the same time, she didn't want to force memories out of him like that.

"Of course." She said when he asked if he could continue watching her dance. Natasha would be lying if she said she didn't get lonely at the compound. He looked apologetic but hopeful at the same time. She liked that look on him, she decided. He looked like a puppy dog. "Oh come on. Barely a scratch." She suddenly grew aware that the scar on her shoulder was exposed to him, and that she almost died by his hand twice. Still, she was alive. It didn't really matter anymore. "Of course I'll help you, James." Her tone softened but the internal conflict she was having was still there.

It was good to hear that Steve helped him back at home, but it concerned her that he was having these dreams constantly. Just how hard did HYDRA have to go for them to remove her from his brain? Why was it so important for them to extract his time in the Red Room? Why didn't they do the same for her? I'm not clueless, she wanted to say. I'm the girl in your dreams, the girl you're trying to remember. But instead, she nodded and let her eyes drift away from him again.

Bucky appreciated that she wasn’t staring at him like he was a lost child that needed to be pitied, he supposed that came from her own experiences. How did he feel? He wasn’t quite sure. She was a constant in his dreams but for only the briefest of moments, and every time he felt something different. “I don’t quite know. It’s rarely the same but I guess… sometimes when I wake up after seeing her I feel like I’m physically in pain, other times loss.” He turned his attention to the ceiling again and let those flashes of memory wash over him. “Sometimes I feel happy… no that’s not right… proud… but it’s always laced with fear. And before I… when I heard the music you were dancing to, I think it has something to do with her which is why I had another flash.” He took a deep breath and tried  to focus on her face again, willing the haze to fade. “It was longing.”

It was frustrating that this was a piece that could unlock a whole period of his past that was the only remaining thing that was a mystery to him. He had in the past wanted to try and forget it and move on with his life, but the dreams kept him from letting go, and to be honest he wasn’t sure he wanted to anyway. “But I have no idea who she is or why she makes me feel that way.” He continued on, “I know for a fact that she wasn’t a part of my life before I become this. But I don’t see where she fits in with me after that. With the ‘Asset’. I just wish I knew what triggers these memories of her, because if she is real then they tried real hard to make it almost impossible for me to remember her and I want to know why. Why they did that with her specifically and why they feel they had to, because I think she had to be pretty damn important if that’s all true.”

Natasha's eyes never left him, examining his ever expression like the trained spy that she was. It didn't seem like he minded, too lost in his own fragmented memories. As he continued to speak, bits of her own memories started to surface - parts of her she kept from everyone, parts she only allowed herself to remember when she was completely alone. Like shooting a girl her age in the head and accepting a nod of approval from one of her teachers; shooting a running target in the middle of a blizzard, earning her yet another wave of praise; hand to hand combat with a man with a metal arm - a man who would sneak into her chambers at night.

She calmed herself down, letting her visions of them in the dark fade in the background when he described his feelings. Loss. Pride. Longing. Story of their life, really. She would have laughed, but her expression remained neutral. She still didn't want to impose, didn't want to push too much. It was clear to her now that he was talking about her and their time in the Red Room, but he couldn't remember her. Fucking Hydra. "Well, that's a start, at least." Her voice sounded strained after a while of not speaking and she cleared her throat before talking again.

Bucky couldn’t help but smile at her reassurance that he wasn’t a burden. Despite the fact that he wasn’t entirely sure where he stood with her, he wasn’t exactly expecting her to be nice to him either. Maybe it was the whole being-the-half-that-remained thing that had her tolerating him. He wouldn’t argue with it, she was good company. As she walked off towards the couch in the lounge he briefly looked the other way, still contemplating whether he should leave. On one hand he didn’t know what to make of his recent  ‘memory’ and wasn’t sure he could even understand the brief flashes he had, but on the other, he was curious to know how she had dealt with her past and if it could help him out with his own. In the end the latter won out (he would later deny the fact that he wanted to spend more time here with her) and he followed after her, placing himself on the opposite end of the couch.

She hadn’t let the silence sit for long which he was grateful for and listened as she spoke of her own experience, even letting out a snort and a hummed agreement at her remark about Soviet programming. It was unfair that they both had to live through that. He wouldn’t wish what had been done to happen on anyone. His focus had been trained on her as she spoke studying her for any sort of tell but instead found nothing. Whatever had been done to her had hardened her in every sense making even reading her difficult. He gathered the only time she could be read was when she let you. Or if something genuinely shocked or surprised her.

“The beginning huh, well I was born and raised in Brooklyn in 1917 and grew up with an annoying best friend that never knew when to quit.” He chuckled softly, his laughter fading quickly knowing it wasn’t a time to joke, especially when she’d been so forthright with him. At least he believed she was being forthright. Bucky let out a heavy sigh as he shifted and sat forward, resting his elbows on his legs as, once again, he told her of what he had managed to piece together so far, working from the beginning where his life changed as he fell from the train right up until the last few missions for Hydra where he had been taken out of cryo to kill Captain America. It was the middle that he struggled with.

“I know there are long periods of time where I wasn’t active because they’d put me under, but there are still times that haven’t become clear to me.” He tried to focus  on the woman again, taking Natasha’s advice to allow himself to remember, but every time he focused her image would fade even more. “There’s a woman.” He said after another moment of silence and wrung his hands together, his brow knitted in thought. “I only ever see her by herself. I used to think she was something I made up because she never appeared anywhere else. It would just be me and her, watching her I think. But every time I would try to see who she was she would either disappear or I’d wake up in a sweat.” He closed his eyes and tried to focus again but nothing further came to him. Bucky grunted out of frustration and leaned back against the couch, letting his head fall back as he stared up at the ceiling.

“I still don’t know if she’s real, but if she is, I think she has something to do with the time I’m still struggling to remember.” He sighed again and rubbed his face with his right hand before letting his head fall to the side to see how she was looking at him now. “Sounds dumb, right?”

Natasha listened carefully as he narrated his life. She could almost hear herself reciting the same biodata for SHIELD whenever they did the memory exercises. My name is Natalia Romanova, born in Moscow in 1984. The last part was a lie, she was born much earlier than that but SHIELD lie detectors never caught it. I have been training for the KGB since I was a young girl. I have no recollection of my life before then. Also a lie. They never caught it and she was thankful that their technology wasn't able to. It meant she was trained well. It meant she was still able to keep a lot of her secrets, secrets she didn't want the world to know - especially not SHIELD.

Her ears perked up when he mentioned a woman but she kept her expression neutral as she continued to observe him. She didn't want to jump the gun and assume he meant her, because what if it wasn't? What if he woke up from cryo and fell in love with someone else? It happened once, it could definitely happen again. She turned her body so that she was completely facing him, her body leaning against the couch. They really did a number on his brain if he was having this hard of a time figuring it out.

Bucky forced himself to take a deep breath once she’d placed her hand on his shoulder, unsure why she was showing him this level of concern though he was still appreciative. When she’d mentioned having to deal with her own memories being played with his gaze shot to hers. After all this time he still didn’t know much about her save for what she had released to the world when Hydra was revealed to have still been in operation. He hadn’t delved too much into her history mostly because he was too busy being on the run, but also because he didn’t have any need to. Everyone had a past, ones they were trying to run from. Just like him. “How did you deal with it? How do you know what’s… what’s real?” He asked, his voice no longer strained as he let go of the breath he had been holding.

Talking about it helps. That’s what Steve had always said, and to a degree it did. Even if he couldn’t make sense of what was coming back to him, talking it out allowed him to put some structure into what he was remembering even if it was spotty at best. But this memory he didn’t even know where to begin with. From what he could tell there wasn’t any crossover with anything else he had remembered. He remembered his fall, the bloody trail his body left in the snow as he was dragged off. He remembered constantly being put under bright white lights with doctors and scientists surrounding him, pumping him full of whatever new version of their experiment they had come up with. He remembered every single life he had taken without a second thought, his only focus to complete the mission he was given. But the woman? She wasn’t in any of those memories which is why he had initially convinced himself she was a figment of his imagination.

Yet the pain he felt watching Natasha dance led him to believe she wasn’t just that. Did he want to talk about it? He wanted to make sense of it yes, but he had no idea where to start. “I don’t even know what it was…” Looking up from his hands his eyes trailed along from the hand that was on his shoulder until he met her gaze. “I don’t want to burden you.”

Natasha didn't like playing therapist. She sucked at it, she didn't feel like she was qualified to discuss traumas when she had her own demons in her brain waiting to be let out. But she did want to help him. They had no one to turn to. SHIELD was running on a skeleton force, other people are too busy trying to cope with losing their people. She didn't want to bother anyone with this, which was probably why he didn't want to bother anyone either. He only had her. Just like old times.

Her eyes never left his face as he tried to process what was happening and what he was hearing. She dropped the hand after a while after giving him a small smile and gesturing that they head for the seats in the lounge. There were papers and folders all over the desk and the coffee table, mostly files of people who were still missing. She ignored them as she plopped onto the couch. She wasn't sure if he was going to follow her this time, but if he really wanted to leave, he would have been gone by now.

There was much to talk about. When she was trying to get rid of her conditioning, well, when SHIELD was trying to get rid of her conditioning, it took a long time before she felt like she was a hundred percent herself. She's still building on that presently. "First of all, you're not a burden so let's get that out of the way." She sighed and started unlacing her shoes before she continued to speak. "It took me a while to figure that out, what's real or not. I was never really sure. At one point, I thought I was just part of a ballet company, thus the dancing." She hasn't shared this story with anyone yet, not even Clint. While he did know of the Red Room, she decided to conceal all of the gory details that came with the place.

He couldn’t figure out why the hell he reacted the way he did. Sure he wasn’t an expert at the effects of regaining memories but none of them had ever made him feel like this. Bucky had woken up in a sweat, he’d woken up screaming, but nothing like this. Like a whole part of his life, a part of him was missing. It had to be something about the song. Just like the trigger words Zemo had used on him all those years ago, the song seemed to trigger something in him though this was different. It wasn’t something that was programmed into him. It was definitely a memory, and from what he could guess from his reaction, it was an important one. Bucky hadn’t even realised he had started moving until a hand had stopped him, pulled him back into the present. Her voice sounded distant though he knew she was standing right next to him, he didn’t have to look at her to see the concern on her face. He could hear it in her voice.

“I’m…” His instinct was to lie, to reassure, to leave. But he didn’t want to do any of that. “I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat and stood up straight and pulled his arm from her grasp but gave her a nod. “Sometimes things around me trigger memories when I least expect it.” Like now. He still wasn’t looking at her, but he made no further movement to leave because if he was being honest with himself he really didn’t want to. “I’m okay, I’m just… processing I guess.” He turned his head to look at her finally, a grateful smile on his face though a little forced, “Thanks.”

Natasha could see the gears turning behind his eyes, his brain trying so hard. He was trying so hard. She knew what that was like, trying to piece together memories. In her case, she didn't even know if half of her memories were real at one point. Was it the same for him? "It's okay. You don't have to apologize." She understood him better than he knew, but she didn't know that he still had these moments - sudden flashes. It's been years since he's been out of the ice so she had just assumed that he was more on top of things. Steve definitely didn't tell her anything about this. It only made her worry more. She didn't know what to do. "You don't have to apologize. I know what it's like to have my memories messed with."

Bucky didn’t speak as she narrated and instead continued to give her his undivided attention. As she moved onto the next song he didn’t quite catch what she had said at the end as the music began and so did she. Bucky, in his life pre-enlisting all those years ago, had only ever attended dance recitals that his sister performed in but he was certain she’d never danced to something like this, but still the song was familiar to him. He’d never been a classical music type so he knew it wasn’t from his past. Yet the violion and even her dance tugged on something in his mind. Was it snippets from when he was lucid as the Asset, he couldn’t be sure, but he knew in the deepest parts of his mind that this wasn’t the first time he’d seen or heard this particular piece.

His focus returned to her and the expression she wore, his heart tugging at the combination of the music and the look on her face. He wasn’t an expert at ballet but he knew if there were still productions around she could easily take a lead in one. Though as much as he tried to remain in the moment, something continued to pull at the back of his mind. By now he knows what that feeling is and knows how to deal with them which is to give into them, not to fight it even if it hurts because in the end it was a missing part of him that he needed to retrieve if he wanted to at least feel whole. So he did, and as the music picked up slightly, he could see her, dancing, just like Natasha was now. She was a figure that had appeared in his dreams often but never long enough for him to reach her or even make out any details.

Sometimes he would convince himself she was just something he had made up but the times he woke up with tears running down his face convinced him otherwise. She was only a silhouette surrounded by many others but he was wholly focused on her, the tugging in his chest told him she wasn’t a stranger to him. He wanted to move forward to try and get a better view but as soon as the thought entered his mind the memory faded and he was back in the room, his gaze still fixed on Natasha who was on the floor now as the song drew to a close. “That was…” He broke the silence after the song faded, his voice trembled a little, “beautiful. And sad. You’re…” Bucky paused as he realised that tears had fallen and quickly wiped them away with his sleeve.

“Wow. Didn’t uhm… realise that happened.” He chuckled nervously and scratched his brow as he averted his gaze. “I should probably go… thank you though for… not kicking me to the curb though. And for the food, and the dance.” He said quickly and swallowed back the lump that had formed in his throat, his instincts for flight kicking in to get away from whatever the hell had just happened.

Sometimes, when Natasha was alone, she'd let go of her emotions and simply cry. It was easier to do that these days because no one was around, but she was still pretty good at keeping herself in check. This song started meaning a lot more to her when the Soldier was taken from her back in the day. She was the dying swan, or at least that's what she felt back then. Dancing for him again like this felt different since she didn't know what was going on in his brain. Was she in there? Was Hydra successful in completely erasing her existence from their Asset?

She was on the floor for the last pose when he spoke, her head whipping instantly in his direction when she heard the strain in his voice. Natasha got up on her feet instantly and smiled at him, beginning to form a 'thank you' for his compliment when she noticed the tears in his eyes. She's never seen him cry before, not when he was the Soldier and not when he was Bucky Barnes again. Concern flooded her, instinctively moving towards him to ask what's wrong, but he wouldn't look at her. "Are you okay?" Her question seemed to have fallen on deaf ears because the next thing she knew, he was walking past her towards the exit.

“Anything to pass the time, it seems I have a lot more of it lately now that Steve’s still out being Steve and I’m… well, not.” The latter part was added quietly but his tone held no ire. It was just a simple fact, as much as he’d like to help like Steve was, he knew he still wasn’t in the right place to. Not when he still had blank spots scattered throughout the past he’d been struggling to stitch together.

“Only someone out of their mind would try to break in here of all places.” Bucky grinned as he crossed his arms over his chest as he watched her lace up. He hadn’t technically broken in but he wasn’t invited either. Not that she seemed to mind though, which he was grateful for and now here he was watching her dance again. He quickly averted his gaze when hers met his having only realised he was staring and let out a cough.

Eventually his gaze moved back to her as music filled the room once more and for the second time that day, Bucky found himself completely entranced by her. His eyes would follow her arms as she moved but mostly he watched the expression on her face. He didn’t have to know her for years to know that dancing was something she loved. He wouls even hazard a guess that it’s something that’s helped keep her sane in light of the disappearance of half the world’s population.

Bucky found himself saddened for her. She was here, alone, pretty much every day. Everyone had lost something to the snap, but she was still here, essentially holding this place together. No one had asked her to do it, she just did it. He had Steve, Rhodes still had Tony and Pepper, even the blue lady and the rat had each other. Who did Natasha have? Sure he and Steve would come around but it was never really that often. No one should be alone. Bucky felt his breath catch as she turned almost effortlessly and felt the corner of his mouth turn up into a smile. “Beautiful indeed.” He muttered under his breath, his words lost to the music.

Natasha loved dancing, and she especially loved being watched while she danced. She was a show-off, always has been. It was her overconfidence that led her to succeed in the red room and become the Black Widow in the first place. Next to her intuition, this was her best weapon. Confidence can take you a long way. She never once forgot that his eyes were on her. She wasn't as lithe as she was when she was young, but she could still probably pass as a dancer if she went undercover. Not that she had to, especially now. There were no missions to be had. She only monitored.

After the last pose in that Odette variation, she got up and gave him a smile and got up to ready herself for another solo. If she were being honest, she could probably dance the whole of Swan Lake alone. It was a good exercise in expression. When one played the white swan, she had to be gentle and soft - innocent. When it was the black swan, she had to be fierce and seductive. That's why their teachers made them do it. Acting. It was one of her many weapons. James knew that, or at least he did.

Bucky’s brow creased in thought as she described the show. Now that he thought about it he recalls Steve telling him about something similar, if not the same. How when he had time he liked to watch shows like that or the one where two groups of people would try to survive on an island or in a jungle for 30 days. It seemed so bizarre, especially when he thought about how he’d not had the luxury of even thinking about participating in something like that when every day used to be a day of surviving for him. He really did envy people that had led normal lives. Or at least, had lived normal lives up until a few years ago.

“Show me sometime? It sounds… weird, but intriguing. Also really stressful.” He chuckled, stopping short when she pointed out the sauce on his chin. Bucky grinned bashfully and wiped it off with his thumb, quickly moving around to the sink to wash his hands before he followed after her. “Is that what you’ve been doing for fun then lately? What else do you do to entertain yourself? Other than dance of course.” Bucky was genuinely curious and also hoping she might say something he could pick up. He was getting a bit antsy back in Brooklyn to say the least. There was only so much he could work out or read the same books or walk the same streets before he became bored of it. He wanted something different and for some reason he was convinced Natasha might be able to help him with that.

As they walked back into the room Natsha had been dancing in previously, Bucky wandered in and headed towards the mirrors, he stared back at himself for a moment letting his gaze take in his face which still showed signs of lack of sleep until eventually his gaze fell to his arm. He stopped hating what it represented and what he had done with it long time ago but every now and then he would wake up screaming because of it. Sometimes it was phantom pain other times it was the faces of those that lost their lives to it. Eventually he pulled himself from his mind and turned around to face Nat and leaned against the mirror as he attempted to put on his best smile. “The floor is yours, Romanoff.”

"Oh man, it is stressful. But you should see this other cooking show where an old British chef yells at everyone the whole time." Natasha was amused with how curious he was about everything still, despite him being free for a few years now. "I can give you a list of things you have to watch. There's a lot you must have missed out on." She gave him a smile before turning away again at the question he posed. What else did she do? Every day felt routine by now. She'd wake up, workout, check her mail while watching the news, eat, get updates from the team, dance, talk to Pepper sometimes to ask how the baby was, and that was it. "I don't know, I guess I train sometimes. There's a firing range here somewhere." She waved her hand around, gesturing to the place. It was big for a reason. It was built for a team. "Don't want to get rusty in case anyone tries to break in." She teased, as if anyone would be able to break into the fortress she called home.

Natasha watched him as they entered the room. She walked over to where she left her shoes earlier and started putting them on again before looking up to see him staring at himself at the mirror. She tried to ignore the look on his face as she laced herself up and started stretching. His smile was... it was cute, to say the least. She returned the smile and asked the system to put on Swan Lake's Odette Variation. She shrugged off the jacket she's been wearing to reveal the tank top she'd been wearing underneath. She caught a glimpse of her scars on the mirror behind Barnes before she started dancing.

Bucky choked on his food. Not because she was right about him predictably hurting himself by eating too quickly, but because of what she’d called him. Everyone, even Steve, called him Bucky. He knew by now what his full name was but it was still surprising being called James by Natasha of all people. That’s another thing he liked, he decided. On top of the way she smiled at him, he also liked hearing her say his name. “What can I say, I was more hungry than I thought.” Covering up his inability to properly consume his food, Bucky bumped his chest with his fist, cleared his throat and set his fork down, looking back at her with an impish smile. 

“Is that so? I’ll make sure to come by more often in case I miss some then.” His smiles were so easy now that he wandered why he hadn’t come to hang around her more often. It’s not like he was afraid of her. “What do they do, just cook? Is that popular?” Bucky rose a brow at that, he barely had the luxury of watching TV the times that he was lucid and it’s not like he had the time to stop and watch when he was on the run either, but the thought of people cooking as a TV show was strange. Then again he’d once seen a hall full of people wearing dolled up animal suits so strange was probably a given in this decade.

When she’d offered to let him watch her again Bucky looked up at her in surprise for the second time that afternoon. He thought it was friendly talk but here, now? “Yeah.” He agreed quickly and shifted in his seat. “Yeah that’d be nice actually.” Bucky gave her a warm smile before turning his attention back to his bowl and quickly finished it off, smacking his lips and humming in satisfaction before he looked back at her with a grin. “I’m ready.”

This Bucky Barnes was... softer than the Soldier she knew. Was it because he was free? His American-ness was definitely more pronounced. The Soldier always had a tension to him, even when they were alone together. This one, not so much, at least not as much as before. Natasha was glad. She'd once dreamt of them becoming free and, finally, after years, they were. No one was about to burst through the door and drag him away from her at least. Not anymore. They were all dead.

"Well yeah. There'd usually be two of them in this bigass kitchen, a host, a panel of judges... they'd pick an ingredient and just run with it." Okay, maybe Natasha's watched a little too much of these cooking shows herself, but she wasn't going to admit to that. There was literally nothing to do at the compound. "Anyway, whoever wins is declared the 'iron chef', it's funny. Well, I think it's funny anyway." People on that show fight like they're risking their lives and for what? A title on a TV show? Meanwhile, her job...

Natasha was surprised with herself when she invited him to watch her dance. It wasn't like they were friends, per se. Even Steve didn't know she danced and yet she'd consider him a friend. Not Bucky Barnes. But what the hell, right? Steve said they needed to move on, to which she'd always say not them. Because if they moved on, what would the world be like? Chaos. But maybe, just for right now, she can pretend like she's coping.

He’d only thought he had heard it but after the silence lingered he knew it wasn’t just in his head. In all honesty he wasn’t sure what to make of it. He’d only seen the thing as a tool to hurt people, it served as a reminder of all the lives he had taken. Bucky wasn’t quite so sure what to do with ‘it looks good on you’ but he also wasn’t quite so sure why it made him smile either. That coming from her was surprising to say the least.

Bucky took a seat at the island and watched as she fixed up a bowl for him. It was a scene so domestic that if he didn’t know any better he could have mistaken her for a happy family woman. If not for the exhaustion and the grief he could see behind her eyes that he was sure almost every remaining person on the planet shared. “Thank you.” He said after a while, offering her a smile as she placed the bowl in front of him and started to shovel forkfuls into his mouth. Truth be told he was hungry. He forgot to look after himself more often than not, a result of losing himself to his memories.

It’s why he started to try and keep himself moving a lot more, why he’d rarely spend too much time at home other than when he was sleeping, or rather, attempting to sleep. It’s why he started doing his laundry here with the excuse that their pipes were broken. Steve, ever the attentive one, would always notice when something would need to be fixed before it even needed to be fixed. “Well good. I’m glad. And hey, I didn’t mean for you to stop dancing by the way. It was nice… a nice change of pace. If you ever think you’d like an audience I’m your guy.” He returned her smile, his gaze lingering for a moment.

Bucky liked the way she looked at him, he decided. He couldn’t tell why but at least she didn’t look at him with pity or contempt. He’d had enough of that. “This is nice by the way, not quite like how my ma made it, but it’s good.” He teased, finally breaking eye contact and continued eating..

"Slow down, James. You're gonna hurt yourself." She slipped again, she knew, but Natasha couldn't help but smile at the sight of him eating her food. It's been so long. Too long, perhaps? No. She didn't want to impose. She didn't want to force memories out of him. If he didn't want to remember... if he couldn't, then it's fine. It's not the end of the world. That's already happened.

Natasha observed him, the small changes in his face, the way he held his fork, the way his eyes looked particularly blue today. She let herself dwell for a moment before reeling back and taking another long sip of his coffee. "You're welcome to watch. Rehearsals are every other day or when I feel like getting off of the couch." You used to watch me dance, she thought once more. He used to watch her do a lot of things.

"Ah, well, I'm not claiming to be an iron chef." She quipped, soon realizing he must not know what an iron chef was. "An iron chef is someone who's really good at cooking. They have a show on TV. Bunch of show offs..." She stopped herself, yet again, with another sip of her coffee and soon the cup was empty. Where was Steve when you needed him?

That sounds lonely, was what he wanted to say. But then that wasn’t an unfamiliar thing to him now was it. From what he could recall of his life under Hydra most of his time was spent alone, both in and out of cryo. He could tell that it was a struggle for her to talk about Clint, not from what she said but what she didn’t. Bucky knew a good friend would press further, to check if she was really okay, but he wasn’t so sure that they were. Sure they had spent more time together if only a handful every few months, but the only times they were around each other was when Steve present. Them being there together now was a rarity, so he wasn’t entirely sure what he would classify them as. Not strangers, but not just friends either. The term didn’t feel right.

“It’s okay.” He shrugged, shifting and stretching it out now that he was conscious of it again. “Haven’t been doing anything out of the ordinary so I think it’s still good for a while.” Bucky stared down at his hand, watching the plates shift as he turned it over and back again. It had once been a weapon used to hurt and kill people and now it was just… there. “Sometimes I think about just taking it off and leaving it off.” He muttered absentmindedly, his hand balling into a fist so tight only the sound of the metal plates grinding against each other pulling himself from his mind. He pulled his sleeve further down and dropped his arm back down to his side and glanced back up to see the back of her head and let out a breath. “Really you don’t have to feed me, my laundry should be finished soon so I won’t bother you for much longer anyway.”

It was awkward. She felt awkward with him there. They'd usually have Steve as a buffer. Steve was good at being a middle man and filling the room with noise. Natasha was naturally quiet, she only talked when she needed to. "It looks good on you though." Natasha lets slip as she turns to retrieve a bowl to put his pasta in. As she busies herself with preparing his meal, she’s reminded of a time when they would go on missions together. They were always short since she was still a trainee, but they'd have moments like this, however stolen they were. After a few moments, she placed a bowl of spaghetti in front of him and let her eyes rest on his face for a while. He looked... tired. But better than when Steve left him in Wakanda, at least.

“Hm, you must have given him a run for his money.” It was hard to picture Natasha taking ballet lessons considering how many men he’d seen her taken down with ease, himself included. Then again that was the thing, he knew nothing about her, and yet he still felt comfortable around her. There wasn’t many people he could say that about, not anymore at least. “Oh uh, you don’t have to-” He trailed off as she had already made her way past him and out the door. “Yeah sure, thanks.” He replied, taking long strides to catch up to her and eventually falling into step beside her.

“You don’t get sick of it?” Bucky glanced over at her with a raised brow. “Being here alone all the time?” It was sad to think she had no one to turn to more often than not. As busy as Steve had been recently he at least had him to stop himself from going mad, from losing himself to his own mind again. “What about Barton? Have you heard from him?” He was there when Steve and Natasha had found out Clint hadn’t been one of the people to disappear after the snap, and was only vaguely aware of the number of times Natasha had taken one of the quinjets out to find him only to come back with nothing. She didn’t strike him as someone that gave up so easily, so he wouldn’t be surprised if she was still looking for him after all this time.

“As good as it can be I suppose.” He shrugged and followed her into the kitchen, leaning against the island that stood in the center. “He’s been busy with his support groups. He may not have to fight anymore but you know him, if there’s anyone he can help he will.” Bucky’s also certain Steve’s using the endless meetings as a distraction from his own guilt and being someone that knows how deep guilt can eat at you, Bucky hasn’t tried to advise him against it. Yet.

Natasha smiled to herself reminiscing the times she took dance lessons in the morning and murder lessons in the afternoon. The dancing part was good because it was just dancing. She didn't have to kill anyone while she danced, it was all for a cover, for a false memory they'd eventually plant in her brain. She'd remembered how the Soldier would sit stoically in the room sometimes, pretending to be observing all of them when his eyes flitted in her direction for the most part. She liked showing off when he was there.

"I'm used to it." She said, again sounding like a loser. "I've only recently gotten used to company. I was flying solo for a long time before SHIELD got to me." Of course, none of her safe houses were as big and thus as empty as the compound. She had neighbors before, at least. Her nearest neighbor now was a 10-minute drive away. "Clint..." It was hard talking about him. She wished she knew where he was or why he was doing what he was doing, but she didn't. He disappeared. Only the occasional mass murder would put him on her radar. "Last I heard he was in Vegas? Headed south, I think." She shrugged. She could hear Steve's voice in her head telling her that she can't save everybody and it annoyed her ever so slightly.

Watching her was captivating, to say the least. With literally nothing else but her and the music to focus in on, everything else fell away. The chill he felt outside, not just from the temperature but from the lack of life. The worry he felt for Steve, the sorrow for all the friends Steve and the others had lost. The anxiety that still kept him up late at night because of the haziness of his past that for the most part still remained a mystery to him. Instead he felt a familiar sense of longing that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Another comfort it seemed. He briefly wondered how she would feel if he asked her if he could watch her dance more, but he got the feeling he wouldn’t be welcome.

“That’s true.” This would be the part where he asked if he could get to know her more, but he stilled his tongue, walking further into the room as she settled herself on the floor. “I should’ve pegged you to have talent in some form of dance though. You definitely move like one when you fight.” Bucky stuffed his hands into his pockets as he glanced around the room she used as her space to dance, his gaze finding his own in the mirror briefly before he quickly looked away once more. “Yep. Pipe’s busted again at ours,” A lie. “Steve’s out and he’s the only one that knows how to fix it.” Not a lie. Truth be told as much as he likes the quiet, he doesn’t like to be alone for too long. “What have you been up to since we were here? Heard from any of the others lately?”

Natasha couldn't help but chuckle at his comment about the way she fought. Little did he know that he taught her most of what she knew, but that's neither here nor there. She didn't want to dwell on the past they had. He couldn't remember her. How many times have they seen each other since she got out of Hydra? How many laundry days? How many dinners out with Steve? Still, there wasn't a single sign of him remembering. He couldn't even recognize her. She's beginning to accept that Bucky Barnes wasn't James.

"Well, I had a good teacher." She shrugged before pulling herself up on her feet. He stood close enough for her to see the vein on his neck tense up when he lied. It was a dangerous tell to have and not one people knew about, but she did. "Do you want lunch? I still have leftover spaghetti from earlier." She started heading for the door, expecting him to follow. He always did.

"I've been... here." God, she felt like such a loser. At least Barnes left the house every once in a while. The only times she went out was when she went into town to get supplies or when Pepper invited her over for dinner at theirs. "Rhodey's in Washington right now, I think. Haven't heard from Carol in weeks, probably in some far off planet that needs saving." The things on her list sounded like reports because they essentially were. It's not like she can ask Carol to take a day off so that they could watch a movie together.

It’s been all too quiet lately. When the snapped happened, half of everything Natasha knew disappeared–half of the Avengers, half of SHIELD… Fury and Hill were gone… Clint was… missing. But she had to keep it together or else who’d run the place? The world was in chaos as it is, restoring some order in the organization she called a family was the only thing that kept her from breaking down.

It’s been years since they found Thanos and left him headless on that planet, years since they all parted ways to cope with the loss, with the emptiness. Natasha tried her best to keep in touch with everyone, even Carol. Steve was a constant. Sometimes he’d sneak into the compound in the middle of the night to do his laundry and she’d pretend to not know. Other times, it’d be the Soldier using the facilities, doing his laundry, getting his arm checked. She’d observe him cautiously, but it seems like living back in Brooklyn with Steve was doing him good. They’d bring her pizza sometimes and watch movies on the ridiculously big screen in one of the living areas, their laughs would echo through halls, and then they’d both leave.

Despite everything, Bucky did consider himself one of the lucky ones. The people he cared about had lived out their lives and had passed on, and the one person he truly cared about he hadn’t lost to dust. The world was broken and still in mourning but he still had Steve. Steve who he could tell was still hurting at their failure no matter the strong front he put on. So for him, Bucky tried his best to continue living as normal as possible, or at least as normal as a genetically enhanced human could be normal. Over the years his memories slowly began to return, his night terrors less frequent, his mind less hazy. It was a work in progress but his time being treated in Wakanda had helped him a great deal. If there were people that he did miss out of anyone, it was the people that had helped him there.

Bucky wandered back out down the empty halls of the Avengers HQ, having left a few loads of his laundry running near the living quarters. It wasn’t a common occurence to do his laundry here, just when he wanted to go for a drive and kill two birds with one stone or when the pipes in their apartment building busted again. Steve used to tell him stories of how busy this place was, of the people he’d known and worked alongside. It was hard to see it that way considering how void of life it now was. Or should be. Bucky’s head turned as the sound of music reached him, familiar music. It wasn’t hard to guess who was listening to it, after all only one person lived here.

Having followed the music, Bucky stopped short outside the door where the music was pouring from as he peered through the window. For a moment he saw red, a dress? no. It was much shorter. Squinting his eyes and moving closer to the open door he watched in silence, his breath caught as he watched Natasha dance. She moved effortlessly and looked so completely lost in herself. He couldn’t fathom why his chest felt tight but looking on it later he would convince himself that it was because it reminded him of when he would watch his sister dance. But for now he could just watch.

So she danced, and she tried to piece together her puzzled life. Ivan. The Red Room. The KGB. SHIELD. The Avengers. She remembered talking to Clint about how she'd want to be her own person for once, but this was taking it too far. I didn't know you danced. The voice sounded familiar and she almost thought she was hearing things in the midst of her turns. She stopped in her final pose, facing the large windows, her back to him. "There's a lot of things you don't know about me." You used to watch me dance.