Warning: M rated content in this chapter.
She sat quietly on the couch in her living room, staring at her coffee table, her legs drawn up to her body. In front of her was a laptop. It had appeared over night. Wherever Barnes had gone for several hours, he had stolen this machine from someone.
The owner is probably not missing it anymore.
She ran her fingers along the smooth, grey top. It was a used HP, a model from just a year or two ago. With a soft click she opened up the cover and it blinked to life. Her eyes immediately went to the yellow sticky note on the keyboard. Someone had hastily scribbled several long numbers on it.
Passwords.
She unconsciously cracked her knuckles, first on her right hand, then her left. She was in her element. A login screen was greeting her, prompting her to enter one. She tried the first, and to her surprise it actually worked, the admin account was logging in, a progress bar taking her right into the main OS. Long file structures filled the screen. She had seen something similar before, on Barnes' first machine. Her hands on the keyboard were navigating through the folders with high speed and with growing interest.
This was another piece of the Hydra puzzle.
She didn't find anything new right away. A lot of the content was non vital information and she had seen it before in the leak. Maybe if she dug deeper, she could find some dirty secrets.
When he had told her she couldn't trust her own people, she thought he had meant SHIELD.
If she had to take a wild guess now, it sounded like he had figured out a secret Hydra agent, posing as SHIELD. How the hell he had done it, she had no idea. There had been a tension in her, ever since he had left for his mission. It was now leaving her. A small relief, if all of this was true.
It was late morning and he was still sleeping. She had sneaked out the bedroom just earlier, trying to find some peace on her couch. Pounding headaches had been bothering her and she had been hung over. An aspirin and a couple glasses of water later, she felt somewhat better.
She didn't know if he approved of her touching his laptop. Then again, he didn't have to know. Obviously there was another use for it, but she was nervous. With a few shortcuts she brought up the secondary OS and looked at the top right corner of the screen. The wifi signal was searching. It immediately picked up on the hotspot in her house, she only had to enter the password, then it was connected. She had internet.
She inhaled sharply and froze.
Her hands were hovering over the keyboard. This was her opportunity to write a message to SHIELD.
What am I waiting for?
She had written imaginary messages in her head a few hundred times over, during her time with James Barnes. All starting with requests for backup and her location. Never once had she been able to actually send one off.
Now that she could, she was hesitating.
What had changed?
Too many thoughts at once were clouding her mind. First off, what should she write? And to who? She had been told that Nick Fury was gone, and Maria Hill was in his place. She didn't feel comfortable writing to her, as ridiculous as that sounded. Maria getting her hands on Barnes was the last thing she wanted. The thought of an SHIELD army clashing with Barnes made her heart skip a beat.
She didn't want either side to take losses.
She didn't want to lose him. Not in a hail of bullets.
Then who else did she trust in this matter? Banner, Stark, Barton? None of the Avengers Initiative were a good pick. Except one of course.
Rogers.
Wasn't he the obvious choice? Maybe not so. There was a huge emotional involvement for Steve in this. She had found Barnes before Steve had. Barnes hadn't mentioned him once yet, and she hadn't either, out of an absurd fear. Barnes was not Bucky. He simply wasn't. Natasha had her own version of history with him, and he had always been the Winter Soldier in her eyes. And that seemed to be the dominant part for the moment, until she could work more on him. She wasn't sure how Steve would take this.
Should she, out of all forms of communication, email him over this highly sensitive topic?
Hi Steve, your former best friend, who almost ended your life and mine, has kidnapped me, but instead of escaping I'm almost supporting him now, despite his murderous past. And by the way, we slept with each other, just like we did back then, in Russia. I suppose you can never fully trust a former russian spy.
Yeah right.
She pressed a hand over her eyes and rubbed them so hard, she was seeing blinking lights.
They could never know about them. Some of the higher ranking SHIELD officials, like Nick, were aware that she had trained under the Winter Soldier, but nobody knew of their former relationship. She herself had suppressed that for so long, she hadn't believed it herself.
There was a different message she could send, that didn't include any of that. She could simply write him that she was safe and not mention Barnes. She grimaced ‒ she wasn't even sure if he ever checked his email inbox. Natasha rolled her eyes. But there was an almost 100% chance that his ingoing email was being intercepted and Maria would get it on her desk before he did. They might come barging into her house to check for her. She gritted her teeth.
She logged back out of the secondary OS, interrupting the internet connection.
There would be time later to decide what to do.
000
Breakfast would have to be cereal and coffee again, they were about the only things left. She took one of the old newspapers that Barnes had read and sat down with a fresh cup. A loose site fell on the table, the other half had been ripped out. He had done this, taken an article. She furrowed her forehead and picked up the loose page, but couldn't find anything significant about it.
Strange. Was that part of his "errand"?
The paper and breakfast couldn't hold her attention and she started pacing through her house. She almost wanted him to get up now to start asking him question, but she tried to be patient. She was jittery, and wasn't able to jog with her ankle.
Whatever.
She strode down the hallway to her laundry room, ripped her hoodie from the dryer, put her boots on, and walked out of the door. Her ankle was complaining quietly. Fine, she'd just walk instead. She pulled the hood deep over her face and started walking up the street in a fast pace. There weren't a lot of people out, which was good. She was planning to walk around her block a couple times.
An hour and about 5 miles later she arrived back at her door. Her legs were burning a little from all the hill climbing, a good feeling. Her house was quiet and she walked straight into her bathroom. It was damp from having been used. That meant Barnes was up. She went ahead with her shower anyway, before seeking him out.
000
Shampoo was burning her eyes, she'd somehow gotten it into them. Maybe she should have rinsed her hair about five minutes ago, but she had simply zoned out, thinking about last night. She was extremely curious to hear what he had to say. Her initial fear at seeing him back on a mission had subsided some, after it became clear that he wasn't dragging her into it.
Or maybe she was a part of it anyway, if she wanted or not.
She held her head under the shower and washed out the soap, then quickly cleaned the rest of her body with a wash cloth, and stepped out of the tub. Some of her bruises were finally starting to fade, she saw in the mirror. Bloodshot, empty green eyes were looking back at her, as she was scanning her face. It was still in various shades of violet and yellow. Same with her stomach, arms and thighs. She brushed a few stray hairs out of her face and noticed again the dark stitches on her right arm. The cut from the broken window. That had been so long ago, they would need to come out. She picked at them for a bit, but she wasn't as coordinated in her left hand. She'd worry about it later.
Her clothes were in a pile on the floor and Natasha got dressed in something comfortable again, a tank top and her long running pants. She blow dried her hair, turning it into a mess, then got out the flat iron. She had just started straightening the first strands when the door opened.
Barnes walked in, dressed in jeans and t-shirt again.
"Morning." He rumbled, glancing at her. He looked more tired than usual and his eyes were pale and serious. His dark hair hung tousled around his shoulders, touching the dark grey fabric of his shirt. A dark shade of small stubble around his chin and mouth.
"You ever heard of knocking?" She shot him a glance, while pulling the iron down on a strand above her right ear. Her voice was husky from not having used it in a while.
"You'll survive." He retorted, stepping next to her and turning towards the mirror. She took a step to the side to have more room. He took her tooth brush and started squeezing toothpaste on it.
"And that is not ok either." She said more sharply. "I could have given you a new one."
He gave her a quick glance, but ignored her remark and started brushing his teeth.
She was quietly watching him in the mirror from the corner of her eyes. Despite his usual silence, he seemed more relaxed somehow than yesterday, she noticed. Or maybe it was just wishful thinking.
"I saw the new laptop. You said you would tell me what happened last night." She talked to his reflection in the mirror.
He only raised an eyebrow, not going to answer with a toothbrush in his mouth. She started straightening the left side of her head in silence.
He spit out into the sink and rinsed his mouth. Then turned around to her, leaning against the vanity right next to her and crossed his arms, watching her work. Her hands ran the iron all the way down a straight red strand, the hair softly falling into her face, before she tucked it behind her ear.
"How are you feeling this morning?" He asked, a small smile playing on the corners of his mouth.
She sighed. Of course he would ignore her previous question.
"Not as bad as you think. I can handle it just fine." She was aware that she had drunk too much the previous night. It had been so bad, that he had to carry her to bed.
She continued. "It wouldn't have been so much, if you had come out on the porch, like I told you to." She immediately bit her tongue. That had come across a bit desperate. One corner of his mouth went up in response, but his eyes stayed serious.
"Maybe tonight." He almost said it apologetically. He raised his eyebrows before continuing. "How's the foot?"
She blinked at him, being curious herself.
"I don't know."
She dropped her hands to lie down the iron, then raised her left foot slowly onto the vanity. She wanted a closer look as well, pulling up her pant leg to expose it. An angry blue and purple sight greeted her, just over and directly on her outer ankle joint. The color spread in different directions, making it look worse than it actually was painful.
He shifted around closer to her to get a better look, then carefully put a hand on her injured ankle, tracing the leftover swollen parts. It made her skin tingle, she almost wanted to pull away.
"Where does it hurt the most?" He rumbled, looking concentrated at the joint.
She felt around herself with her fingertips, balancing on her right leg, as he held her other foot tight.
"Right here. But it's already better than yesterday."
He brushed his thumb over the worst spot, then with more pressure, trying to feel for something. She bit her teeth together under the dull pain. It was nothing compared to other injuries she's had in her life, but he was taking it so seriously. Almost as if it was his responsibility.
He dropped his hand and met her eyes.
"Good. You should ice it again today."
"Mhm." She pulled her pant leg down again and lowered her foot back to the ground. She didn't need him to tell her that.
"And don't run on it, like earlier."
Now he sounded lecturing, she rolled her eyes.
"I only walked in the neighborhood, so don't even start. Sitting around with nothing to do drives me crazy. I'd rather go to work or do something than stay inside all day." She was rambling in her defense and picked up the flat iron again.
He just shrugged. "Neither is good before it's healed."
She didn't answer him and only focused on finishing her hair. He did seem different from yesterday, she thought again. Calmer. As if he had actually thought over all the things she had told him. Yesterday had been an up and down of emotions for the both of them. But she was seeing change in him.
She was noticing something else.
He seemed to care for her more than she had initially thought, but it was often hard to tell with his mostly blank exterior. They were both rather good at guarding their feelings. Having it ingrained by a place that encouraged that behavior.
He was studying her in a not so subtle way, standing in front of her within arm's reach. His gaze went down on her, then up again, over her pants and flimsy tank top. She could see him look at every single visible scar and bruise with an unreadable expression.
The scene at her front door with her neighbor jumped into her mind. Boyfriend, she had called him. Laughable, but it somehow made her grin. A mental image of them formed in her mind. She sighed, finishing her last strand of hair.
"You know, Barnes." She spoke up, while dropping her hands and unplugging the flat iron. "I can't blame my neighbor for what she said yesterday. I probably do look like your battered, little girlfriend." Her voice dripping in sarcasm.
He gave a short laugh at that, his eyes crinkled. Her own mouth curled into a smile, while putting the iron back into a drawer.
She stood up straight again and ran a hand through her hair, untangling the last bits. Him being close didn't bother her for once. They had fallen into a strange dynamic of sleeping pressed into each other, but staying on guard during the day.
Isn't that what she always did though, with every man?
She dropped her hands and pressed them into her sides. "Weren't you going to tell me what happened last night?"
The half smile on his face and the little glint had vanished again, it dropped back into a blank expression.
"Yep. In the car." He answered neutrally.
She froze. His words hung heavy in the air. She hadn't expected anything involving the car. She tried to read his face, but it was impossible. Worry crept into her stomach.
"Where are we going?" She asked cautiously.
"Didn't you say you needed groceries?"
She almost gaped at him.
"Are you saying.. we are going to buy groceries?"
"Yep." He pushed himself from the vanity, then quickly bent down and pressed his lips on hers, before she could protest. "Get ready." He walked out of the bathroom.
She looked after him, stunned, and licked her lips. She could taste him and remnants of his toothpaste.
He had listened to her request, for once.
000
A thin layer of foundation had taken care of the bruises on her face. She was looking like her normal self again, when she walked into the kitchen. All that stood out was the cut on her lip, but that wasn't a big deal.
He had his back to her, bent over at something on the countertop. His shirt had pulled up and her Glock was sticking halfway out of his waistband.
She approached him slowly, her eyes never leaving the gun. Of course he knew that she was there, but he wasn't turning around. She stepped next to him, to his left side. She never reached for it, only watched what he was doing. He was counting her money that he had found on the dresser.
"I don't think you will need the gun." She prodded him with a soft voice, knowing it was futile. She would wear her guns just the same, if it weren't for him. The difference was, she had a legal concealed carry permit.
He didn't respond.
"At least hide it better." She reached over and pulled his shirt over it. He shot an unreadable glance at her.
She guessed they were really going to do this. Going out into public. The thought was strange and sent pangs of worry through her. She wouldn't be able to talk him out of it, she knew that. But on the other hand, it was better than sitting here. What bothered her was, what would happen if someone recognized either of them? It was her face that had gotten more coverage on tv, she was the liability.
She measured him up and down, he would blend in just fine, she thought, except...
"What are you doing about this?" She touched his bionic arm, something she rarely dared to do. It sent a nervous flutter into her stomach.
"I have a jacket." He said in a low voice. "Let's go."
000
She was navigating him to a small, further away grocery store, in their stolen black Hydra Jeep. Something with not too many cameras or people. And truthfully, while driving, he had explained what he had done the previous night.
"I found an article in one of your newspapers. It was a small snipped about some SHIELD event or another, just one of the many. It had a photo above it. And I recognized one of the agents on it. At first I couldn't remember clearly, but it came to me later. I had seen that person in one of the Hydra labs before."
Barnes paused. When he spoke again his voice sounded a shade darker.
"He had some involvement in this." He lifted his bionic arm, shooting Natasha a glance. "They kept upgrading my arm with stolen information from SHIELD labs."
"Who was it?" She asked him quietly. It was as she had guessed, he had found a Hydra spy.
He dropped his hand back on the steering wheel to drive a turn.
"You wouldn't know him." He answered short tempered. "But he worked as a scientist for Stark."
"A Hydra agent? Spying in Stark Industries?" Her mouth stood open.
"Haven't you done the same?" He rumbled, referring to an older assignment of her.
"That was different." Her voice sharp. "Is that why you were asking for a phone book? How did you find him?"
He gave an empty laugh.
"Natasha. You and I have found people long before internet and modern phone books." A corner of his mouth pulled into a grin. "I paid him a visit. He was quite surprised to see me again. But he was all too eager to give me his laptop and whatever else I needed, if I didn't kill his family."
She exhaled sharply. His family? She grasped the door handle on the passenger side hard, her knuckles turning white, it was hurting her hand.
"And… did you?"
Please don't. He had said he wouldn't.
"No, I didn't harm them. Can't say the same for him though." He was talking so calmly as if they were chatting about the weather. And she thought he had started developing a conscious.
But it was Hydra. A spy for Hydra. In a twisted way he had done SHIELD a favor.
They drove in silence, except for her quiet navigation, until they arrived at the store that Natasha had picked out.
000
She could barely concentrate on what she was buying, the whole situation was striking her as bizarre. He walked in a small distance behind her, keeping his arm in a pocket of his jacket. There had been a baseball cap in the car that he had put on. Not that it was really necessary, he looked like a regular guy.
She caught herself watching him every now and then, when he picked something randomly from the shelves. He was inspecting a can, his hair concealing his face, a neutral expression on it.
He looked like a regular guy... but there was something about him... he would be handsome in another life..
She groaned at herself and rolled her eyes. But she couldn't deny it. She saw some of the glances other women were throwing him, while they strolled down the aisle. If only they knew it was all a facade.
Natasha had put her red hair into a messy bun and pulled up her hood. The fiery red color was sometimes a problem when she wanted to be undercover, but she refused to change it.
She was grasping for random things left and right while pushing the little cart, in a hurry to get done. Being here with Barnes was not putting her at ease. He just seemed completely out of place.
There hadn't been a sound coming from behind for a while and his boots were usually quite loud. She whirled around. He was gone.
Sweat was breaking out on her forehead, she traced back to the previous aisle. It was empty. Then the one before. He was standing in the candy section out of all things, holding something in his hands. She walked up next to him.
"What are you doing?" She whispered. Not sure why she was saying it quietly, as if anyone could see who they really were otherwise. He was holding a yellow package of M&Ms.
"I remember those." He was staring at the candy pack. "They had them at base. In Germany."
She didn't want him to have an episode of any kind now.
"Ok. We'll buy them. Come on." She snatched them out of his hands and dropped them in the cart, then grasped him by his arm, dragging him with her.
She's had enough food in her cart to last for a while and took him straight to the registers. He followed her wordlessly.
"Hi, how are you?" A bright, smiling girl greeted her, while Natasha started loading the contents of her cart onto the belt. She was all young, blonde and bubbly, probably fresh out of high school.
"Good. Thanks." She kept her face down. She knew it was rude, but that was how things were, now that she was a public figure. Not Barnes. He was looking at everyone and everything, his hair constantly falling into his face. He had noticed how uncomfortable she was and his mouth was pulled into a small grin. He helped her load some things up, while keeping his left arm out of sight.
"Good. How're you, miss?" He rumbled suddenly. Natasha's eyes almost bulged out of her head.
"Very good, thank you! Today's been so busy." The girl was beaming at him while scanning everything. Barnes grinned at her.
Natasha wasn't sure who she wanted to punch in the face first, curling her hands into fists. She had warned him in the car to not engage with people.
"So what are you all up to today?" The girl was trying to engage them, mostly him though.
"Oh, not much." He answered still grinning. He loved how uncomfortable it made Natasha.
"That's nice, I wish I had a day off." She scanned the last items, then turned to Natasha.
"That'll be $135.68." The girl was smiling at her now, but still shooting glances at Barnes. Natasha all but slammed the cash on the counter. As soon as she had the change, she was dragging him out of there.
She was finally able to somewhat relax again, once they were back in the car, the groceries on the back seat. She had no idea that it would turn out so stressful. Barnes seemed to have no worry in the world, throwing his hat back on the dashboard.
"We should do that again." He glanced at her grinning, then backed out the car. Both his hands on the steering wheel again.
"I told you not to talk to anyone." She snapped at him.
He laughed. "It didn't hurt."
She rolled her eyes at him. He was putting them into a dangerous situation if he acted like that. She tried to rectify her anger.
Be honest, you just didn't like how he had smiled at that girl.
000
Their long ride home was quiet, both of them sunken into their own thoughts. Had she really been a little jealous, like a damn child? She didn't allow herself petty emotions like that, but then why had she been so angry. She forced herself to not think of him like that.
They slowly turned into their street and Natasha saw it before he did.
"Pull over. Right now." She grabbed for the steering wheel, but he was fully alert now himself. The car came to a stop by the curb.
Her house was in the distance, on the other end of the road, but she saw them quite clearly. Two police officers were standing at her front door, their cruiser parked at her curb.
"That... goddamn... old hag." She stammered under her breath.
She peaked over to Barnes, he hadn't said anything yet and was staring concentrated out of the windshield. He was getting angry, she could feel it. When he turned to her, his eyes were dark and deadly, his friendly facade from the supermarket had completely vanished.
"You want to explain that?" He asked her in a low growl.
"It's my freaking neighbor. She called them, that's what she usually does." She said hastily. "If it's a domestic disturbance call, they have to check up on those."
Barnes looked back out of the windshield, gripping the steering wheel hard.
"Let's just wait it out." She leaned back in her seat, deceptively calm. Her heart was going a hundred miles an hour.
They sat in silence for 30 minutes. The officers had gone back to their car, but not left yet. They seemed to be waiting as well. Seeing them here had caused panic in her, instead of relief. She was not going to let Barnes loose on them.
He was stirring next to her. He leaned forward slightly, his hand going to his back, pulling out the Glock.
"What the hell are you doing?" She immediately grasped for him, putting a hand on his arm.
"It's only two." He wasn't looking at her.
"You are not going out there."
"They are not going to go away." He sounded calm. As if he had made up his mind.
"You are not killing police officers. Are you out of your mind?" Was she really asking him that? Of course he was. She would have to intervene. "I'll talk to them."
Her hand went to the door handle. Now he was grabbing for her arm, loosely pointing the gun in her direction.
"And what are you going to tell them?" He had said it mildly, but she could hear the deadly warning in it.
"I'm going to send them away." She met his eyes. He was trying to see if she was telling him the truth. She continued. "Do you trust me, like I'm supposed to trust you?" Her eyes were wide and honest, a sheen of panic in them.
He stared at her for a moment longer.
"You have ten minutes."
000
She was talking to both police officers in her doorway. They were calling her by her fake identity name.
Sloppy background research.
They seemed friendly, but almost bored at the same time. Apparently they didn't take her neighbor's calls 100% serious either. She noticed them scanning her face, but the makeup was doing a good job hiding everything.
"Can we take a look inside, miss?" The older one asked her. It was a standard procedure.
"Sure." Natasha sighed. She had to try her hardest to not look down the road to their black car. In her head she was rattling down anything that could look suspicious in her house, but nothing came to her.
They only stepped as far as the end of the hallway.
"And you were saying that you live alone?" The younger asked her.
"Yeah. Look. My neighbor isn't all right in the head and she has a grudge against me over god knows why. She loves to spin up stories about everyone. Nothing happened to me, and I'm fine." She took a deep breath. "Can I help you with anything else?"
The officers looked at each other.
"No, miss. We are good here." They started to leave, but the older one turned around at the door and looked at her friendly, almost patronizing.
"If you need help with anything. Give me a call." He gave her his card.
"Ok. Thanks." She took it, then closed the door. Breathing a sigh of relief.
000
By the time he had rolled up to the house and they had brought in all groceries, it was evening. The trip had been a long one and she was exhausted from the tension of dealing with him and the police. They hadn't talked much at all after that incident. He had only looked at her darkly and cornered her against a wall.
"Will they come back later with backup?" The deadliness hadn't all left his voice yet.
"No. I told you I would handle it." She answered angrily and tried pushing him away.
"Are you lying to me?"
She looked at his serious expression and sighed.
"No." Her voice calmer.
It took a moment, but something in him changed, she could tell. Almost something like a recognition crept in his face. He believed her. He stepped backward, letting her go on to work in the kitchen, while he wordlessly walked back into the garage.
She was hungry and didn't feel at all like cooking and instead threw a frozen pizza into the oven. Why was she putting up with his difficult moods so much? She couldn't exactly answer herself. But she was starting to understand how to deal with them.
He had stayed in the garage with the car, busying himself with something, while she sorted her groceries, putting everything up until the oven beeped.
"Pizza is done. Come eat." She yelled loudly down the hall, cutting it in slices.
You said you never wanted to be a housewife. She rolled her eyes.
He emerged from the doorway to the garage down the hall and joined her. There was still something on his mind, she could tell. He had taken off his jacket and boots again, walking barefoot. They ate the pizza in silence.
The police incident had caused a strange tension between them. She had asked him to trust her over it, and she had once again, covered for him. Did she feel such a strong connection to him to keep doing that? In order to help him stray from his murderous path? Or to help herself to work up her past?
Maybe for a whole nother reason after all.
She had opened her bun, letting her hair spill down her shoulders. Barnes kept staring at her from the corner of his eyes. She should be used to him doing that, by this point, but she grew annoyed by his weird behavior.
"What is it?" She snapped at him. It hadn't been meant to sound mean, but sometimes things came out like that.
"I want to show you something." His voice steady, neutral, as he was leaning on the counter.
She furrowed her eyebrows. "What?"
"You'll see."
She ate her last bit and wiped her hands on a paper towel. A weird sensation spreading in her stomach. She didn't like when he was being secretive. That happened way too often.
He dropped whatever pizza he had left and took her by the arm, not unkind, but firmly. The weird sensation in her stomach turned into nervousness and she turned rigid as he dragged her into the garage. He was pressing her close into his side. They stopped in front of the trunk of his car. He leaned over and snapped it open, the trunk door slowly rising up. Inside it was dirty blanket, covering something up, several long items. Her heart rate picked up.
He lifted the blanket away with a quick motion. Her eyes went wide and she had to swallow.
His trunk contained several guns, big and small. She noticed a Glock 20 and a Smith & Wesson, assault rifles, Kalashnikovs among those, machine guns, a shotgun and a sniper rifle. Even a goddamn grenade launcher.
"Are you going to fucking war or something?" She gasped.
She stood pressed into his side, feeling his body heat and something like concealed excitement on him. He didn't respond, only stood straight, as she put her hands on the rim of the trunk to bent down, taking a closer look. It was an impressive collection. She had no idea where he had gotten it all, maybe from the dead Hydra agent. She recognized most models and makes immediately, was trained and had worked with all of them before at some point in time. Here and in Russia. She could even point out most of his favorites.
Her curiosity was too great and she stuck a hand out grasping for one, then froze and looked up at him.
"Take it." His eyes were piercing her, concentrated, not missing a single reaction on her.
She slowly took out the modern make AK-47. She had worked with older Kalashnikov models, but not much was different. The weight in her hands felt familiar. She laid it into her right shoulder, it fell right into place like an old, worn in, favorite piece of clothing, molding into her body at once. She took aim, brushing her soft cheek onto the cold metal to look over the sight. She pointed it at nothing particular to her right side, away from Barnes. The stance came naturally to her, she knew it like the back of her hand, like the sharp clicking sound of a safety turning off. She exhaled slowly, all of her nerves going calm, her mind turning blank, narrowing her eyes. Her red hair fell lazily down to her side. It was the stance of a trained shooter, who had held a weapon thousands of times.
It was almost like falling into a form of meditation. A serene blanket lowered down over her body and her breathing steadied. Her heart rate went down. She would be able to shoot a moving target up to 300 yards away with precision, despite this not being the most precise gun.
She was trained to kill up close, intimately, but holding a larger weapon had a similar effect compared to slipping a knife into someones neck. She did it with utmost concentration, her face neutral, her body rigid, her hands lethal.
He was watching her.
She broke her concentration and lowered the gun again, then looked at him. Why was he allowing her to hold a weapon after all this time? Did he trust her that much? He must be, since she wasn't going to aim it at him.
Do you realize what is happening here?
She had a weapon and wasn't aiming it at him. It might not even have bullets in the clip, she wasn't sure. Maybe it was a test.
"Why are you showing me this?" Her voice was husky, her green eyes piercing him back. She was still holding the rifle, pointed at the floor.
He took her arm, carefully, and turned her fully towards him, then pulled her even closer, wrapping his hands around her waist. She had to crane her neck to look up to him, the air in the garage suddenly seemed stuffy. They were standing so close, she shuffled the gun to her side, carefully avoiding to point it at either of them.
What the hell was he doing?
A serious look was on his face, along with a small knowing smile. He lowered his forehead on hers and she could feel his breath hitting her face, it was making her legs weak. Her pulse was quickening and she turned her head to his side, away from his mouth. But his hand was suddenly in her hair, guiding her face to his, pressing his lips on her. She noticed in the back of her mind that she was missing his long stubbles. Her mouth opened for him and their tongues met, sending a rush of butterflies down her stomach, her nerves were tingling under the sudden sensation. She kissed him back, wanting to hold onto his hard body but her hands were annoyingly holding the rifle, she couldn't use them. He had gripped her tightly and wasn't letting her go.
His tongue was filling out her mouth and her breath was going heavy, as she adjusted her head to kiss him at a different angle. She pushed her own tongue against him, giving him some resistance. It only made him groan and grab her harder, leaving deep prints on her waist. A heat went rushing down between her legs, making her feel warm and weak. He slowly removed his tongue and sucked softly on her lower lip.
She was still confused, he was making it difficult to think for her.
"What‒" She started to say. His mouth left hers and it brushed against her ear.
"This could be you and me. Again." He was whispering.
What was he talking about?
She pulled back slightly, her hands were sweaty around the gun. Their eyes met. He was looking at her with steely expression, but it was soft for her at the same time.
"You and me?" She repeated.
He nodded slowly.
She slowly realized what he was talking about. Purposely showing her the weapons she had grown up with, had trained her on for many years. Weapons they had both used and knew in and out. Every little screw and part, she knew how to take them apart and build them back together. He had shown her that. Back during their training and first missions.
You and me, like back then. In Russia.
She shook her head. "No, James." She whispered.
He was still grasping her and it felt claustrophobic now. She couldn't breath.
"Let me go."
He stared at her for a moment longer, his eyes looked almost hurt, then he dropped his hands. She shakily sat the gun on the ground, leaning it against the back of the car. Then took a step back.
"No." She said under her breath.
She turned and walked out as quickly as she could. He didn't follow her.
000
Cold evening air was causing goosebumps on her arms. She didn't even notice them. She wasn't seeing or feeling anything around her.
You and me.
She knew what he was doing, or thought she did. Trying to turn her into something that she wasn't anymore. His intentions were extremely confusing to her and it was going in a dangerous direction. What was he planning to do with a trunk full of weapons? She was almost regretting now to let the police leave, without telling them about him.
She was sitting by herself on the porch, not wanting to run across him. She could still run away, out into the neighborhood and confide to someone. Right now.
But she stayed, leaning back in her chair, with her left foot on the railing. It was a calm, quiet night again, similar to yesterday. Nobody else was out on her street, and the last bits of sun were fading on the horizon. Darkness settled onto her, and into her mind.
She sat quietly by herself for a long time.
She had felt an exhilarating rush from holding the rifle and then again immediately following his passionate kiss. It had conjured up something long lost and forgotten in her. A faint memory, but not anything bad, rather the opposite. She had felt in control again, the weapon had given her back a bit of power and along with it a sense of pride and confidence.
There was blood on her hands.
Shrouded in the darkness of the night, she knew deep down what and who she really was, despite the SHIELD ID that was hopefully waiting for her in her office. And so did he and he was trying to pull it out into daylight.
She would never hurt anyone innocent again.
She let her mind go blank.
000
The front door opened and he walked out, not in a hurry. He strolled next to her foot on the railing and turned towards her, leaning back. His body was pressing into her leg, but she refused to move it. In the moonlit darkness it was hard to make out, but he was holding something in his hand.
He held it towards her. A glass half full with something. She guessed it was her vodka.
"I told you, tonight we share it." He said quietly.
She gazed at his dark features, trying to find his face, not being able to see it well. Then she leaned forward, taking the glass and sipped slowly, sinking back into her chair.
She was playing with fire here. A loaded gun.
There was a silence between them. Not knowing what to say. She realized, what he had done in the garage was to truly open up to her for the first time. It had been an even more intimate bonding than the first time they had slept with each other, two nights ago.
The alcohol numbed her current tension, taking the edge off. She needed it. A question was on her mind. One she had asked him before, many times. She had gotten different answers, but never the truth. She would ask him again.
"What do you want from me?" Her voice was a hoarse whisper, carrying the weight of everything they had been through.
He shifted slightly in front of her. She was trying to find his eyes in the darkness, but there were only black holes, his hair covering his face in shadows.
"I want you. By my side." He said quietly.
She should have known it. Probably did all along. His focus had shifted on her, to turn her back into his former partner.
The words were ringing in the air, in the darkness of this cold, hushed night. She took another sip and swallowed. Warmth spreading in her.
"I am not yours to take. I don't belong to you." Her answer was slow and serious, articulating every word.
He shifted his head, she could see it. Not accepting her reply.
"You want to belong to SHIELD instead?" He asked her, more sharply.
"And what if I do? If this is where I want to be. It's my fucking decision." She threw back at him, the vodka amplifying her emotions.
"Always the liar." He gave an empty laugh, not believing her.
She saw red at that. "You know what. Go to fucking hell." She threw the glass at him, which he easily dodged, it fell down beyond the porch shattering loudly.
"You know why you lie and manipulate so much? I taught you how. I taught you most of the things you know. I made you what you are today." He continued, antagonizing her.
She harshly pulled her leg from the railing and staggered up from her seat. Uncontrolled rage was flowing through her body, she curled her right fist.
"Fuck you." She said under her breath and without warning charged him, taking a swing at his face.
He blocked it too easily, then grabbed her body and drove her back into the wood paneling of the house front with a loud crash, her chair squeaking out of the way. He pinned her arms up in a hard grip, his bionic hand hurting her, being able to snap her wrists in the blink of an eye if he chose to.
He brought his mouth down to her ear.
"Remember when we played this game back then? You could never get enough." He spoke quietly while breathing hard, pressing closer into her.
She squirmed under him and tried to pull away.
"Stop touching me." She whispered, knowing exactly what he was talking about. The memory of that dream was making her legs weak.
"Are you sure you want me to? You and I both know what you are, deep down. I remember you begging for more." He shifted her wrists into his bionic hand and laid his right one on her waist. A jolt went through her.
"This version of me doesn't exist anymore." She gritted her teeth, his hair was falling into her face, a strand of it had caught in her mouth.
I am a liar, a manipulator, an assassin.
"I'm seeing it all the time. How about stop deceiving yourself." His hand wandered up from her waist, over her ribcage, and stopped on her breast, cupping it firmly. She gasped, when his lips brushed the side of her neck.
"Go fuck yourself." She spat angrily, trying to squirm away, but her mind was swimming from vodka and his pressure on her. She had grown hot under him, involuntarily arching her back into him, feeling his hand squeezing her breast. He brought his mouth around, hovering over hers. She was gasping with her lips hanging open.
"I don't know, Natasha. Maybe I'll fuck you instead." His tongue was in her mouth, hot and heavy, she felt like she couldn't breath. He suddenly let go off her wrists and she flung them at his shirt, grasping him, pulling him closer. He was pushing her hard into the wall, she felt like she might crack a rib.
Something in her mind let loose, all the constant, guarded composure fell away. She let an almost animalistic desire take over her mind and body.
"Bastard." She whispered between kisses. Her hands ripped open the buttons on his jeans and she stuck a hand down in it, feeling him hard. He groaned, pushing his hips toward her.
He was ripping up her shirt over her head.
"Not out here." She snapped angrily, pulling him with her through the front door.
They didn't make it far, he hauled her to her couch, throwing her on it, then started ripping her clothes off until she laid naked in front of him. She took off his shirt in return, pulling his jeans and underwear down harshly, impatient. Not being able to wait any longer.
He positioned between her legs and pulled her roughly towards him. His aggressiveness was dirty and angry and incredibly exhilarating. He laid his warm hand on her exposed folds, making her flinch. His fingers finding and rubbing her sensitive spot, wetting her.
Bending down, he latched his mouth onto her right breast, rolling his tongue over her erect nipple until her breath was going in small gasps. His chest hovered right over her, as he traced his tongue over to her other breast, leaving a damp trail behind, giving her goosebumps. He looked up as his mouth closed around the her soft left mound, feeling his teeth grazing her skin. His eyes dark and full of lust.
Her pulse was going frantic as his solid thighs were pushing her own further apart, exposing her, pressing himself hard against her. She was lying flat with her back on the couch, when he started entering her little by little, filling her up. She threw her head back and arched her body, unable to suppress a moan. Her hands ran up both his arms, holding onto them.
She began to move her hips against him, gritting her teeth, going in a steady rhythm that she had picked, while he responded to it. Every thrust of his was making her gasp, both of them settling into a fast pace. He couldn't take his eyes of her plump mouth that was going in small, quick breaths. She turned her face back to him and looked him deep into his eyes, his guard removed. She saw pure hunger and desire for her. All emotions they kept hidden away so well laying open.
She bit her lower lip when she moved a hand down on herself to help her along. Squeezing her inner muscles as she approached her own climax, she made him groan in response. He took her faster and followed her into oblivion, collapsing on top of her. Breathing hard into her drenched, wet hair. She reached up to him, running her hands through his own tousled dark strands, pressing her eyes shut.
They held onto each other, while their heart rates came back down, the adrenaline leaving their bodies.
How could she resist him? Her anger was long gone, replaced by another raw emotion in her heart, had seen it him too.
He nestled his face into her neck, pressing his lips onto her, breathing deeply. She let her mind go blank, only to enjoy the afterglow of their combined frenzy. His smell was intoxicating to her and she was drinking it in, conjuring up a comforting feeling.
He shifted around on top of her, clearing his throat.
"Ready for bed? Or would you like to waste more vodka first?" He rumbled beside her ear.
She licked her lips, still coming down from her high of released endorphins.
"You hadn't even had your share yet."
I am DYING to know what you all think.
This chapter turned out to be extremely long, and there is A LOT going on, but I didn't want to divide it up. It has more impact that way, imo. There is some fluff that I could have cut out, but I kept it all in, hope you enjoy either way.
It practically wrote itself and I have to admit I keep getting inspired by other awesome fan fics around.
To answer a question for LadyLazarus: I might be planning to bring Steve in. But this fic really just deals with Nat and Bucky, the other Avengers don't interest me that much.
Thanks for all your support, everyone that reviews, fav'ed and followed!