"Hey, night owl. What's keeping you up so late?" Nat padded into the living room shared by Steve and James, a notebook tucked under her arm.

"Couldn't sleep, thought I would catch up on some reading," James replied. As if Natalia walking onto his floor at 2AM was the most natural thing in the world.

"Hmm. You need yourself a distraction, sir. How's the love life?"

James cringed - this was not a conversation he wanted to have. Not at 2:00 in the morning, and not with Natalia Romanova.

"Let's just say it's on pause," he offered, hoping that that this answer would be sufficient enough to deter further prying.

"Why's that, Barnes? I've been told that ladies love the tall, dark, and handsome thing," she teased, placing an embarrassing emphasis on the word love.

"It's not that - I've been told that I used to work the dark, mysterious thing to my advantage," he replied with a roll of his eyes.

"Go on," she fixed her blue eyes on his, a slight smirk flashing across her face.

"Nat. I've spent the last seventy years using every form of physical contact as a means of destruction. Every touch for seventy years was a violent one, and I don't know if I even remember what it feels like to be gentle." He shifted, a bit uncomfortable with the intensity of this late night conversation. "I mean, I like to think that it's instinctual, like riding a bike," he continued, "but it's also not something I'm willing to test out."

He could have imagined it, but he swore Natalia was about to say something at the end of his short rant. Usually good at maintaining her aloof facade, frustration found its way into her face, and James wondered at its source.

The silence continued to stretch on, and James worried that he'd let a little too much slip. Next to Steve, Nat was the easiest person in the tower to talk to. In fact, in some ways, she was actually an easier companion than Steve. Her past was certainly cleaner than his own, but she knew what it meant to be ashamed of her history. There was also something comforting in having fewer expectations to rise to - or fall short of. Steve was more than considerate, but James couldn't help but worry that he didn't live up to the man he used to be in Steve's eyes.

Snow was falling outside, and he watched it gather on the windowsill beside him, waiting for her to speak. Larger gusts whipped through the streets below, and he was thankful for the warmth of the tower.

"I once seduced a man so that I could get the information I needed from him," Nat almost whispered. "Slit his throat in bed and walked away. And that's not even the worst of it."

The tone of her voice, empty of any emotion, shook James more than he wanted to admit.

"I'm sorry," he offered, feeling helpless.

"If you believe yourself to be unable of redemption or gentleness, then what does that mean for me, James?"

There were just a few feet of couch between them, and he fought the instinct to move closer. God, it had been so long since he had really felt the warmth of someone else. He imagined what it would feel like just to sit with her. To feel their arms touch and to hear a heartbeat other than his own. Maybe the ability to be gentle was still innate in him after all.

No. That's not something I can risk. He willed these thoughts from his mind.

Contenting himself with studying her instead, he realized that he'd never seen this side of her before. Knees wrapped up under her arms and against her chest, chin resting on top. Something about it was familiar, for reasons that he couldn't place.

"You weren't in control of your actions, Natalia," he said finally. Absently, he wondered why Natalia always came to his lips more readily than Natasha.

"That's my line, James."

"Well it's true regardless. Would you like some tea?" he asked, regretting the offer the moment it left his mouth.

"Tea?" she questioned, shooting him an amused look.

"Coffee? Vodka?"

Wow, I really just need to stop talking.

"Tea is fine, thanks," she finally responded.

He got up and moved towards the kitchen, pleased to have made her smile even if it was at his own expense.

Minutes later, he returned to the living room, two cups of tea and pieces of toast balanced carefully in his hands. Nat hadn't moved from her tightly wound position, but her mood seemed to have improved when she lifted her eyes to his own.

"Back the problem at hand, I suppose?" she asked.

"Problem at hand?"

"Your romantic conquests - keep up," she smiled.

"I really don't think there's a simple solution," he said, sighing.

"Well, it seems simple enough to me. You need to find a woman who knows how to hold her own, James."

He felt his face begin to flush, and looked around desperate for a change of subject.

"What are you writing?" he asked quickly.

"Notes. Fury's sending me to Morocco soon, and I need to brush up on some things first."

"Morocco sounds exciting."

"Hmm. If you're lucky, I'll even bring you back a souvenir, Barnes."

"I look forward to it, Natalia," he said, making her genuinely smile for the second time that night.