She didn't, of course, lead him to the middle of the floor. She found the quietest corner the room could offer, but it did absolutely nothing to shield him from the room's attention. No one stopped dancing, but they continued somewhat forcefully and more quietly than before, eyes trailing off to the assassins every few seconds. But the band was heroically determined to cover up for the awkwardness and they performed this feat admirably.
Bucky stood in position and waited, his eyes drifting down suddenly, vacantly, towards Nat's collarbone. She paused, waiting for him to pull together. He looked up, blinking quickly, and smiled a little vaguely. "It's been a while," he said, in a light, nervous voice.
"It's been all of ten minutes for me," she said easily. "Shall I lead?"
He smiled again and bowed his head slightly, looking up again with a dangerous smile. "As a gentlemen, I could never allow it," he said, taking her hands.
Only Steve recognized the difference in the way Bucky moved. Sergeant Barnes had moved like a wildcat, fast and precise, energy bouncing from his eyes. It took a good partner to keep up. But now he was gentle with himself, occasionally unsure of the steps, cautious, and Steve's heart fell.
But that only lasted for the first few moments. Bucky miss-stepped and almost crashed into Nat, who smiled and lilted up onto her toes to whisper in his ears. "Come on Barnes. Impress a girl."
His awkwardness vanished at the words, and an interest came back into his eyes. His metal arm pulled her in suddenly, improving their hold, and he began to dance.
Steve and Natasha had danced precisely, intently, focused on perfecting the relatively simple moves which the instructor had been teaching them. Barnes and Natasha danced with a glowing, expansive energy. They spun off each other like water and silk, rippling like heat waves, flickering like lightning. Steve and Natasha had gradually caught the floor's attention, Barnes and Natasha brought the other couples grating to a halt. And in all of the shadowy wonder of their movements was the most mysterious image of all, flashing in the middle of their blur: Bucky's smile. He was grinning, animated and focused, feeling the memory pulsing under his skin. His mind was stagnant and clumpy, but his muscles remembered everything. In the heat of the dance, he could forget and remember, his mind blocked out the years of winter as his body remembered the spring. Dancing with a pretty girl in an overheated room, whiskey on his breath, his steps sure and confident.
Natasha was a dancer born and bred, but she struggled to keep up with him, mesmerized at how well Tony's plan had worked. Because this had been Stark's plan from the beginning, a chance to shock Bucky back to life and to hope.
Steve watched from a corner of the floor, his own feet as still as they had always been in dance halls like these, but his fingers still loosely clasped in those of Agent 13. His face was calm, but his breathing deep and loud. It was Sergeant Barnes, dancing out there. His hair was long now and the fingers of one hand, protruding from his left sleeve and clasped around Widow's waist, were long and silver. But it was Bucky, his Bucky, again. But now Bucky was dancing with Steve's trusted friend, and many other proven friends stood around, temporarily accepting. Now Steve had danced too, lost in conversation with a truly admirable woman. There was food, drink, music and joy and a burden born in ice slid from Steve's chest for the first time since he had woken up in Times Square. They were alive, he and Bucky. What more could he ask?
Tony was trying to catch his eye across the dance floor, a glowing-faced Pepper snuggled onto his shoulder as she watched the dance, and Tony was smiling, winking. That son of a bitch.
Nat and Bucky danced four dances, and the other couples didn't join in until the last one. Many of them still watched, wide-eyed, over their partners' shoulders. Most tried to emulate the moves Barnes had introduced. Maria Hill volunteered to take over for Nat at the end of the fourth dance, and the spy gladly stepped down. It was a gesture of trust, to take the metal fingers in your own, and stare trustingly into the sharp blue eyes, and to see a partner there, not a threat. Natasha had hoped more people would make that gesture tonight, but Maria was the first and last. Tony stood up soon after, lifting his glass and declaring the dining hall open in the next room. At his words, the music stopped and the voices were silenced and Bucky staggered slightly, blinking hard.
Maria took his arm firmly, supporting him so no one else noticed and whispered. "Are you okay?"
He nodded, jerkily, but his head sagged low on his neck as he returned to himself, his jaw seized and he was breathing hard. Maria was not the one to overreact in this emergency. As Tony pulled Steve up onstage, she gently led his friend to a fire exit, Sam slipping out quietly behind them.
As soon as the door shut behind them, Agent Hill stepped quickly back and Bucky whirled, slamming his fists into the brick wall.
"Alright man, let's take it easy." Sam's voice was low and calm, and Bucky heard it, somewhere far over his head, like a drowning child recognizes its mother's voice.
"We got you, man," Sam continued steadily, snaking his voice out like a lifeline but keeping his body back, offering space. "Hey Maria, could you get someone to send some water out here please?"
Agent Hill looked up, quietly gesturing away three heavily armed guards who had approached silently as they recognized the silver-armed man. "All personnel, stand down," she murmured into her wrist. "Give us some space, guys."
"I'll get it myself," she answered Sam, and ducked inside for some ice water, and a quick word with Pepper. When she came back out, Bucky was sitting on the steps, staring at the ground, and Sam was next to him, one hand delicately resting on his flesh shoulder.
Barnes looked up at her approach and she saw that he looked haggard, but he accepted the water gracefully and sipped a little. "I'm alright," he told them quietly.
Hill crossed her arms and leaned on the wall, "I'm pretty sure Tony was the only one who thought this party was a good idea. I think 'insensitive' was the word most of us were looking for."
Sam glared up at her and she shrugged her eyebrows back at him, but Barnes shook his head. "No. It's good to know that some part of me still remembers… before. With no doubts. I can't always trust my memories. It makes it all – more difficult."
"Does Steve help?" Sam asked.
Bucky chuckled dryly, "Steve keeps me alive. I've heard what he did to find me, everything he sacrificed, the time he spent, the friends." He made an inclusive gesture towards Sam. "Seems like I can't take that away from him now."
"Steve wanted you more than anything from his old life. It would – hurt him very much to lose you again," Sam replied, choosing his words with care.
"Steve wanted his friend," Barnes returned with an ugly smile. "He got me. He deserves more than this, I'm not the one he was searching for."
"No, man. That's not how friendship works." Sam was holding Bucky's shoulder more tightly now. "He knew what was going on when he went to look for you. You two are gonna fight this side-by-side. He knows who you are, even when you don't."
Bucky's head dropped again, heavily, and he took a trembling breath. He looked up in a moment and smiled again, his eyes glittering with water. "Why do I have a feeling this dinner is going to be less comfortable than most? I've tried to kill most everyone at the table, present company included. Some of them I came pretty close."
Sam stood, reaching down to clasp his hand and help him up. "Aw hell, Sergeant. Everyone at that table has tried to kill everyone else at some point or another. That's just a sign that you belong."