Natasha is lying on the couch alone in the rec room, earbuds in, feet up, just minding her own business, when Bucky walks in. He sits down at the further end of the couch and leans back with a sigh, staring at the TV.
She studies him unobtrusively through half-closed eyes. It's so hard to believe that he used to be the Winter Soldier. Deadliest assassin in world history. Now he's just... Bucky, all shaggy hair and quietness and serious blue eyes. He's been with them for a while now, always kind of in the background. She's spoken to him some, and he seems sweet, but almost like a kid in some respects. HYDRA damaged him in so many ways, and though she'd like to think otherwise, she doubts he'll ever recover fully.
She glances idly at the TV to see what's captured his attention. Someone left it on with the volume almost all the way down, and at the moment, some idiotic purple dinosaur is dancing around with a bunch of kids. Nonetheless, Bucky's watching it, and she almost thinks there's a hint of a smile on his face. But his attention drops when the show stops for ads. He runs his hand through his hair (it's falling into his eyes, as usual), pulling it right back from his face in a fist. As he does so, something - anxiety? - flickers across his face.
Tired of her music, Natasha yanks her earbuds out and sits up straight, twisting her neck to get out the kinks. "Hey," she says quietly, leaning her head back.
Bucky starts slightly, as if he'd forgotten she was there. "Hi." He sighs, dropping his hand, but doesn't really make eye contact.
She cocks her head. "What's wrong?"
"Uh, I don't know. Nothing." His hair falls in his face again, and he sweeps one side behind his right ear, then tilts his head to tuck the other side. He grimaces.
Natasha doesn't want to push the matter, not right now, because she knows what it's like to have people wanting to help but not being ready to let them. "Okay," she replies.
They both sit there on the fancy leather couch. Bucky stares at the TV (still on the ad break), but he doesn't seem to be taking anything in. He messes with his hair again while Natasha thumbs through a magazine someone left on the coffee table. Steve and Sam are out, and no one's quite sure where Tony went, so there's nothing much to do but lounge around. After a few minutes, Bucky reaches for the remote and turns off the TV. The prospect of not having to endure the freaky purple dinosaur again is a great relief to her.
Bucky settles back and heaves a a sigh, clutches his hair for the millionth time. His odd behavior is beginning to make some sense to Natasha, and she's about to say something when Bucky preempts her. "I hate this," he mutters, still clutching his hair. He stands up.
Natasha understands. More than he realizes.
"You want it cut?"
He makes eye contact, clearly surprised that she knows what he means. "Yeah, I hate it. All of it. It's... I don't know, it's annoying. I don't like it."
She stands up and gives him a slight smile. "Alright then."
"What?" Bucky asks, taken aback. He looks so confused. "I was gonna do it myself."
Natasha raises an eyebrow and deliberately avoids looking at the empty sleeve of his T-shirt. "Want me to help?"
Bucky looks lost.
"Don't worry, I have some experience," she says, and walks away before he can protest. Although what she said is technically true, she vaguely wonders what she's getting herself into.
There's an electric razor with a multitude of attachments stowed away in the huge bathroom off the rec room. Natasha rummages around in another drawer and surfaces with a long comb and a pair of hair-cutting scissors as well. Bucky's followed her in, and he's standing awkwardly nearby, not sure what to do with himself.
"Okay, sit down," Natasha says, indicating the puffy, vintage chair in front of the tall mirror near the sink. (Steve found the chair at a thrift store a couple weeks ago, and it's the ugliest thing Natasha's ever seen.)
Bucky hesitantly complies, sinking into the chair. Natasha grabs a towel from a rack near the Jacuzzi and tucks it in around his collar. She runs warm water over the plastic comb; Bucky-in-the-mirror looks ridiculously nervous.
"O-kay," Natasha mutters to herself, and she begins combing his hair. It's clean and long enough that it brushes his shoulders, and the combing is actually largely unnecessary, because he seems to be doing a good job of maintaining it already. She finishes and picks up the scissors.
"So you want it, I dunno, like Steve's? Short around, longer on top?"
He shrugs. "Um, yeah. Sure."
The first thing to do is get rid of the general length. It doesn't have to be pretty; she'll clean it up afterward. She gathers up the left half of his hair and snips it away, dark locks falling onto the towel, onto the floor. When she looks into the mirror again, Bucky's eyes are scrunched shut, but he isn't moving a muscle. She quickly cuts the rest of his hair and flicks some loose strands off the back of his neck, then tilts her head. So far, so good. Even if Bucky currently looks more like Spock than anything.
Natasha looks at herself in the mirror and fights back a smile. She can't believe she decided to do this. Sam'll never shut up about it.
Bucky's eyes are still closed, so she pokes him. "Hey, you don't have to do that. I'm not gonna cut you or anything."
"Uh, okay." Bucky opens his eyes, only to stare in apparent horror upon seeing himself in the mirror and quickly shut them again. Natasha's sorely tempted to laugh, but instead picks out an attachment for the razor. She plugs it in, and the steady buzz fills the room.
She goes around his head, not too short, pausing every few seconds to figure out her next move. At some point, Bucky cautiously opens his eyes, and luckily, he doesn't seem to freak out this time. She gives him a half-smile in the mirror, and he reciprocates.
A few minutes later, the whole back and sides of his head are mostly done, and Natasha turns off the razor, glad to be rid of the annoying vibrations.
"Are you done?" Bucky asks, turning his head to see each side.
"Not quite." Natasha grabs the scissors and goes all over the top, hoping she doesn't mess it up too badly. It seems to be turning out mostly okay. She just needs to keep it even.
Bucky waits patiently, sitting remarkably still, for which she is grateful. Finally, Natasha deems it done, and she uses the hairdryer to blow the fuzzlets off his head. Then she pulls off the towel and shakes it out over the trash can. Bucky brushes stray fuzzlets off his pants and the chair and then stands up. He studies himself in the mirror.
"Well? What do you think?" Natasha asks, folding her arms.
Bucky suddenly breaks out into the most beautiful, genuine grin she's ever seen him wear. "It's amazing. Thanks, Nat."
Nat. He's never called her that before. "Hey, you're welcome," she says, giving him a friendly punch on the arm. "I... um... I know what it's like. Even a little thing like cutting your hair helps when things get bad. Makes you feel like a different person." (Bucky really does look like a different person already, and it's not just because of his hair.)
Bucky nods, running his hand over his head. "Thanks," he says again.
Natasha smiles.
The door to the rec room bangs open just then and Steve and Sam appear. They stare in surprise at Natasha and Bucky standing right by each other just inside the open bathroom door.
"Hey, guys," Natasha says casually, moving into the rec room.
Sam walks toward them and stops, staring. "We were gone for under an hour and you guys decide to do each other's hair?"
Natasha is probably somewhat OOC, but the plot bunny attacked and wouldn't let me go until I wrote this. This does take place at an unspecified point in the future, though, so I guess there's room for Nat to become a little more open and spontaneous.
Liked it? Hated it? Either way, please leave a review and let me know! :)