A/N: Before you-cant-just-import-answer convinced me to draw Operation: Christmas Presents out into 'a present a chapter' fic, the original draft contained flashbacks of what Bucky's friends did to help him adjust to his new life. Though they didn't make it into the final draft, I'd already written three of the flashbacks and, since they're currently gathering dust on my hard drive, I thought I'd share for anyone who was interested.
So, without further ado, how Natasha endeared herself to Bucky after a fighting proficiency exam goes poorly.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Please don't sue.
Less than a month after he'd been brought to the Tower, Bucky was curled up on the couch in the common room, his knees against his chest, watching the amazing quality of Stark's HD television. He wasn't really paying attention to what was onscreen though, his mind stuck replaying the day's earlier events.
Ever since coming out of hiding, Bucky had wanted to return to the field to try to atone for what he had done as The Soldier. In order to do that though, he needed to pass the field tests that all other SHIELD agents were forced to undergo. One of these was a hand-to-hand proficiency exam.
He'd been sparring with a cadet in his thirties who was fairly skilled, making this more of a workout than Bucky would have imagined. It had almost been fun until Bucky had knocked the man's oncoming blow aside and had whipped his head around to track the cadet's chin which was the target of his upcoming right hook. His sweaty hair however had stuck to his face and obscured his vision, forcing Bucky to bring up his other arm to clear his line of sight.
In that split second, the other agent pounced. He reared back on one leg and landed a roundhouse kick to Bucky's chest, snapping the air out of his lungs. Before he could regain his breath, his Soldier training kicked in and Bucky momentarily blacked out.
When the world came back into focus, Barnes was kneeling over his opponent, using his shins to pin the agent's arms, his metal fist raised to deliver a crushing and powerful blow. And suddenly that agent wasn't dark-haired and green-eyed: he was blond, blue-eyed and resembled Steve.
Bucky threw himself off the agent before he could land the blow. "I'm done for the day," he murmured, scrambling to his feet and walking quickly toward the door.
That was it. He knew he wouldn't be let back into the field until he got those lapses under control. He was just glad he'd snapped out of the Hydra-induced trance before the other agent had been seriously injured.
As he stepped into the hallway, the security team—who, for the record, he could have easily taken out if he wanted to—swarmed around him and escorted him directly back to the Tower where he'd showered then plopped down in front of the television.
He heard the elevator ding an indeterminate amount of time later and looked up to see Natasha walk in, a small bag in her hand. She sat down on the far end of the couch, gently laid her purchase on the ground then tucked her legs underneath her.
Bucky watched her for another moment but, when she didn't initiate a conversation, turned back to the television, secretly glad for the silent company.
It was only when the program faded to a commercial break at the top of the hour that Natasha asked, "Do you like your hair that long?"
Bucky considered this for a long moment. Back when he was with Hydra, things like hygiene weren't given a high priority so his hair had been greasy more often than not. It'd ended up being an advantage since he could push it out of his face in the middle of a mission and it would stay. Now that he was trying to abide by cultural norms of showering at least once every two days—more often if he worked out—he found that his hair did what it wanted, no matter how much work he put into it. It even had the audacity to pouf if the humidity was high enough.
But whether he liked it that long or not was a different story. He'd been told what to do and how to act for so long that he was still learning what he did and didn't enjoy. He hadn't minded his hair until today, when it had caused a very serious issue. While that was enough proof for him to acknowledge that a change needed to be made, he wasn't sure he was ready to drop his current style for the 1940's Bucky Barnes cut from the pictures he'd seen in the museum.
"I don't know," he finally said, immediately dropping his eyes so as not to see Natasha's expression.
To his great surprise, she just said, "That's okay. It took me a while too," in a tone devoid of any spite or pleasure.
His curiosity piqued, he looked up to see her grab the small plastic bag on the ground. "Until you decide, take one of these," she continued, pulling out a white piece of cardboard with small colorful rings wrapped around it. She easily slid a blue ring off the cardboard and held it out to him.
He took it, holding it gingerly between his thumb and index finger, and stared at it in confusion. "What do I do with it?"
She smiled, but it wasn't cruel like he was used to—her smile was filled with warmth and maybe a little sadness and somehow he knew she understood what he was going through. "You tie your hair back with it," she explained then demonstrated by pulling a band from her own wrist and wrapping her hair into a low ponytail.
Bucky looked at her hesitantly. "I don't—"
"It's in these days." She retrieved her phone from her pocket and, after a few seconds of tapping, pulled up pictures of men wearing their hair exactly as she was encouraging Bucky to do.
He still didn't look quite convinced but, at her encouraging nod, attempted to follow her example, careful to keep his hair from getting caught in the plates of his left hand. When he had it all gathered, he twisted the band around it then let go. The ponytail held for a split second before a large chunk from over his left ear somehow escaped flopped back into his face.
He looked up, expecting to see Natasha laughing at his inability to perform such a simple task but she just shrugged. "I'll admit it does take some practice." Then she stood up and walked over to him, being sure to telegraph her every move. "I can do it for you now, if you want."
She waited until he nodded before walking around to the back of the couch and gently grabbing his damp hair in her left hand. She used the fingers on her other hand to brush his bangs toward the back of his head then deftly secured the entire bunch with the hair tie she snagged from his fingers. "Just like that."
Bucky took a minute to absorb the feeling of not having his hair dangling in his face. He shook his head slowly back and forth and grinned when his vision remained clear.
"Thanks," he enthused, glancing over his shoulder to look at Natasha, who returned his smile then smirked, "But wait, there's more."
Mild panic raced through Bucky's chest but he forced himself to relax as she redid his ponytail. The end result felt almost the same to him, except that he couldn't feel the tips of his hair dangling against his neck.
"This is called a man bun." Natasha snapped a picture of the hairstyle, then held her phone over his shoulder so he could see how his hair was looped at the end, having not been pulled entirely through the hair tie.
"It's…odd," he finally decided after carefully examining the picture and feeling the loop with his own fingers.
"You don't have to like it. I'm just showing you your options." As she spoke, Natasha gently dislodged the hair tie without yanking out any of his hair. "Or, you can just pull it out of your face." She placed her pinkies by his ears then pulled backward, picking up more hair as she went along. When her hands met in back, she quickly secured the little tail.
She took a picture of this too and held it out to him. "What do you think?"
"I think I like the regular ponytail," Bucky decided, after shaking his head yet again. Yes, his bangs were out of his face, which was preferable, but the lower hairs could still whip around distractingly during fights.
"Okay," Natasha smiled warmly as she loosed the hair tie and pulled his hair into the style he requested. Then, she walked over to the far end of the couch and tossed the packet of hair ties into his lap.
"Sparring tomorrow?" she asked as she headed for the stairwell. "Noon?"
Bucky nodded, his hair staying firmly secured in his new ponytail. "I'll be there."