A/N: Okay, so, thus far things have been pretty T for teen, some bad language here and there and some... suggestive material. Well, this chapter is actually mature. Just... be ready for that.

Natasha was waiting for them when they pulled up the drive of her extremely remote, wood-surrounded safe house. She looked like she hadn't slept. Wearing just a fleece jacket and a pair of beat up old jeans, she was sitting on the porch swing, drinking coffee. Bucky couldn't take his eyes off of her.

"Hey, take it slow, man," Clint warned him as he shut off the car. "You've just been through a traumatic event."

Bucky glanced over at him in confusion.

"People tend to make rash decisions after big accidents, life-changing shit. Don't do anything crazy. Oh, and she's probably going to hit you."

Natasha didn't hit him.

"Hey, Barnes. Good to see you." She unfolded her legs from the rest of the swing and nodded her head for him to sit. "Coffee's inside, Barton. How was the drive?"

"Just fine. No trails," Clint grunted and let the porch door swing shut behind him.

The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes. The night was quiet and the stars were clear and bright. Bucky thought it was appropriate he was seeing Natasha again in starlight. She reminded him so of them.

"I'm sorry about your arm," Natasha finally said. Her voice was so quiet he wouldn't have heard her anywhere else, anywhere where the noise of life intruded.

Bucky was still looking up at the stars when he responded. "I'm not. You know, I haven't seen the stars like this since Germany. I didn't know you still could."

"Barnes…" Natasha's tone held a warning. "You have to talk about it. Stark told me what happened."

He looked down and over at her. Her face looked even whiter in the starlight, red hair shining like fire, her eyes were quiet though, just a flash of blue here and there. She made him want to smile. He extended his arm towards her, noticed that she didn't flinch despite her jaw setting, and held it palm up.

"I'm not sorry. I meant that. Look." He waited until she extended her hand, placed it in his palm. "I can feel now. Your skin's cooler than it should be. Soft on top, rough from work on the bottom, your palm has a groove in it. A cut, maybe?... See? Nothing to be sorry about."

Her eyes seemed to brighten as she contemplated him, never leaving his face to look at the arm.

"Besides, it seemed appropriate. A reminder to keep me straight." He gently released her hand and sat back. She held his eye for a few more moments and then looked down quickly. Bucky sighed and looked back to the stars. "They really are beautiful."

Natasha hummed quietly beside him, a pensive noise, but said nothing more.

Bucky broke the silence with a question he'd been mulling over a long time. "Your interest, in me? Was it part of a mission?"

"At first," Natasha said, looking him dead on. He waited for the 'but then' explanation, it didn't come. That was all he was going to get.

The two of them sat there, without speaking, for the rest of the night. Bucky sighed again as the dawn broke. It was stunning, too, but he preferred the starlight in Natasha's eyes to the harsh warmth of the sun. He hoped he'd see it again.

"You two want breakfast?" Clint asked from the front door. "I'm making eggs and everything."

"I think breakfast sounds like a good idea, Barton. Thanks." Natasha set her hand on Bucky's for a split second as she stood and then headed inside.

Bucky could still feel the warmth of it as the swing rocked gently beneath him. The woods were coming alive, sunlight streaming through the trees, birds chirping. He took that as his cue. It was time for him to be alive, too.

"Breakfast it is," he said to himself and stood to head inside. He had to start somewhere. He picked up his box of belongings from the porch and stepped inside.

After breakfast, Bucky announced he was going for a hike. He'd spent enough time inside, hiding. He wanted to be outside for a while. Clint grumbled about lack of electricity and settled in front of the television. He was just disappointed that Bucky had turned him down for a video game session. Natasha eyed him and then stopped unpacking her huge arsenal.

"I'll join you."

Clint scoffed and kicked off his shoes, "yeah, enjoy the great outdoors!"

"No, I think it's tactically sound. I can scope the perimeter." She grabbed a small pistol and a knife, tucking both into her jeans. "I'll be on the burner phone, Barton."

"Whatever."

"Bucky?"

He looked away from the game Clint had just begun at the sound of Natasha saying his name. It was a little startling. She held out a gun and his knife, the one she'd confiscated the week before.

"Just in case," she assured him.

He accepted them and stowed them away. "Just in case."

She trusted him. She trusted him to have the exact arming she had, even though he was four times her strength and speed. She trusted him. A fake explosion broke the spell of the gaze they'd shared and Natasha cleared her throat.

"We'll be back by 0900, Barton."

"And not a second later," Clint murmured, eyes not moving from the screen.

"I'll be offended if you don't come looking."

Taking Clint's snort as confirmation, Natasha headed for the front door. Bucky followed in her wake.

For her excuse about scoping the perimeter, Natasha seemed to know where she was going in these woods very well already. They started off due north on a well-maintained trail and hardly broke pace for a second. By Bucky's count a good half hour had passed before Natasha slowed down. She bent over and picking up a twig, fiddled with it a bit as they strolled. Bucky liked these woods, they were warm and bright, the best parts of the memories he had in the woods. Natasha brushing against his left arm brought him out of his nostalgic reverie. He'd spent a few minutes just remembering, of his own volition.

"Are you okay?" She asked. There had been a point to her touch. He knew she did nothing without intention.

"I am. Just thinking that nights on mission would have been a lot more pleasant in woods like these." He looked over to assess her reaction, but Natasha was focused on the ground in front of her.

"You're remembering."

"On my own, yes." It was so exhilarating to acknowledge that.

"Congratulations. Stark and Banner did a great job."

"It was mostly Dr. Banner."

Natasha blew a strand of hair out of her face and then gave him a small grin, "I figured."

"And Barton was surprisingly helpful."

"He has a way of doing that," she agreed and then slowed even more. "Surprises even himself. Barnes. Hold on."

Bucky stopped and turned around to where she was standing. Her face looked conflicted. He wanted to ask why, but he knew better than to push someone like the two of them to express anything. Instead, he waited quietly.

"I like your hair," she said sighing and shaking her head. It hadn't been what she'd wanted to say.

Bucky reached up and smoothed a mentioned strand from his face. He'd forgotten that he'd started combing it since she'd seen him last. "Thank you. I remembered a few days ago."

"It looks good that way."

"You did a good job cutting it."

Natasha scoffed and started walking again. They didn't speak again for a while. Bucky had just stepped up onto the ridge of a hill when Natasha tried again. This time, she laid her hand on his arm, feather-lightly, to stop him.

"Bucky, are you going to go look for Rogers?"

He nodded down at her, "yes."

"Tomorrow?"

"As soon as I'm done here," he replied and her eyes narrowed.

"Done here?"

He nodded again and then took a step back, held out his hand, "I have an acquaintance I have to make properly. Hello, Ms. Romanoff, I'm Bucky Barnes. Pleasure to meet you."

Natasha looked down at his hand, a smile spreading gently across her lips. She extended her hand and shook his, still grinning. Looking up at him with an expression Bucky'd seen enough times to recognize, she tilted her head to the side and... surprised him.

"Would you care to go dancing, Bucky Barnes?"

He blinked down at her. That was not usually where that expression led. "I have to admit, I was hoping to be the one to ask you, but… I suppose I have some things to adjust to these days. I'd be honored."

Natasha, smile unfading, nodded behind her. "Come on."

Over the crest, on the other side of the hill was an old warehouse, abandoned, with the glass windows knocked out in some places and the roof missing in a few more. Natasha broke in, picking the lock, assuring Bucky she didn't need the super strength to get in here. Inside was just as beat down as the outside, puddles here and there, glass and leaves littering the floor. It was cool and quiet, though, and the holes in the roof made for just the right amount of light. Natasha paced through nodding contentedly.

"This a dance hall could make," she mused, stomping on the floor. It was solid, gave off a good, concrete echo. "Now… I guess some music."

Bucky crossed his arms in bemusement as Natasha pulled out her telephone. She tapped at this for a few seconds before a familiar clarinet rip sounded from it.

"Benny Goodman," Bucky noted and Natasha nodded. "Good choice."

She flashed him another preciously rare grin and set the phone down on a turned over wooden crate. Bucky followed her with his eyes, soaking in every move, every mannerism. She seemed more relaxed then he'd seen her yet.

"You can teach me, right? Big time dance hall regular like yourself." She joined him in the center of the room and spread her feet, standing ready.

"Of course, here." He held out his hands to take hers. "Right in mine, left on my shoulder."

She laid her hands lightly where he directed, Bucky placing his right hand on her waist. It was a far more intimate stance than he remembered it being, here alone, Natasha looking so directly at him. He dropped his eyes and nodded his chin to their feet.

"Now the basic step is fairly simple. Find the music… there. There's the beat. One, two, one two. And… one foot back, then step back in." He grinned when she stepped back with her left so that they were out of step. "Yeah, I usually start with my left, which means you would your right, but… I can switch."

He skipped a half beat and onto his right foot, so they were in step. "Good. And that's the basic dance step. Just stepping in place the rest of the time. Sometimes…" he drew away his right hand and lifted his left above her head. "I'll spin you."

Natasha caught on quickly, that smile not yet leaving as they returned to their basic position.

"I can… spin you out… or in." He hummed along with the music as they practiced that. "Or, I could even spin you into me, sweetheart style." He pulled her into a gentle spin until she was in his arms, her back to him. "And then we match step, instead of mirroring."

He couldn't see her face, but he figured Natasha was still grinning. Her hair smelled like lemon and pine trees. They weren't really touching, but even so, he could feel the warmth of her against his chest.

"And then, I can step out, spin and… dip you." He lowered her by the waist over backwards in a sweeping dip.

Her left leg bent to balance her instinctively, crawled up against his own, just the toe of her shoe brushing him. He lifted her back upright, arms still around her waist and held her there for a second, actually touching.

"May I kiss you, Ms. Romanoff?"

That grin broadened and then split into a full smile. She chuckled and then laughed, eyes squeezed shut. Bucky was a bit surprised, but that wasn't new with her. Her laugh, at least, was pleasant, a little husky, like her voice, but bubbling, warm and sultry. When she opened her eyes again, she was still smiling, but a more repressed grin, like she was stopping herself from laughing more.

"Why not?" She straightened her shoulders and tilted her face up to his. "Yes, you may, Bucky."

He responded more quickly than he'd wanted, it wasn't as smooth as he'd liked. She didn't seem to mind. The first thing he wanted to do was properly kiss her, hands on her waist, after dancing kiss. It didn't turn out that way. His hands found her hair, found it to be as soft as it looked, then cupped her face as he leaned down to meet her. The lips were the same, soft but firm, she tasted like oranges. Her hands didn't stay on his shoulders, they too moved to his hair, looped around his neck. He breathed her in and ran his thumbs over her cheeks. She was so soft.

As the intensity of her lips, her tongue increased, he dropped his hands to her waist, but just to hold her closer. She was easy to lift, her legs wrapped around his hips effortlessly. He held her there, one hand on her back, the other clasping her thigh for uncountable minutes. Finally, Natasha broke away, red tinging her cheeks, her lips, her eyes dark.

"Well, we've had dinner together, now danced, even exchanged gifts." Her voice was throaty, a little hushed. "Is that courting enough for you?"

Bucky licked his lips. There were about twenty different responses competing in his head from 'fuck yes,' to 'ladies aren't usually this forward, but I like it.' He went with, "only if it's enough for you."

Natasha raised her brow and looked at him, and then laughed. "You see? You can still smooth-talk."

Admittedly, there had been some times when he'd imagined this very scenario with Natasha, finally being whole, treating her right, but it had never been in a place like that. At the moment, though, it didn't bother him. It felt appropriate, two broken people, made new, together in a broken place given new purpose. It felt right.

He set her down on the ground again, slowly, gently, and stepped back to slip off his coat. He laid that down behind her and then toed off his shoes.

"For you," he murmured, nodding towards the coat.

Natasha shook her head but slipped her shoes off and stepped onto the coat. She didn't need to touch that dirt. He followed her, stepping right up to her, toe to toe and dipping his head down to kiss her as she leaned up. She was a good bit shorter than him, but it didn't matter. Leaning down to nose her ear, kiss her neck, he brushed the hair from her shoulders and then slipped her coat from her, following its path with his lips. His whole body tensed when she moaned for the first time. He thought he'd hurt her, but her fingertips against his scalp signaled otherwise.

He lingered on her neck, eliciting those little noises as much as he could, before reaching for the bottom of her blouse, pulling it up over her head. Her eyes were still closed, lips slightly parted as he set it aside and dropped lower to kiss her chest, her collarbone, the white and red pucker on her left shoulder. His shot. He kissed it twice for good measure and then stood away.

"I'm sorry," his voice was gruffer than before, his head light and warm.

"Don't be." She reached for his shirt, slipped her hands beneath it and up his chest.

Her nails, her fingertips were just fleeting enough to make him shiver. He reached down and wrenched his shirt off of him, aching to feel her skin against his. She was deliberate in all her movements, her exploration of his chest clinical, if it hadn't been done with her lips and tongue. He took the time to feel her, both hands in her hair, on the smooth slope of her back, the dip above her hips, the curve of her bottom. He wanted to feel that, her skin under his hands there, the give as he pressed his fingertips down. Moving her away from his chest carefully, he reached for the fastening to her blue jeans. She merely smiled coyly.

Underwear had changed in the past seventy years. Red, lace and minimal coverage is what he found beneath her pants. It made his gut clench. Natasha wasn't waiting for him to admire them, though. She grabbed him by a belt loop and pulled him to her, where she pulled off his pants and replaced them with the pressure of her legs and hips. Bodies pressed together, he kissed her again, this time sinking his fingers into the softest parts of her, the swell of her hips, of her rear, of her breasts. She tossed aside her bra as they were locked together. Incredibly, she did so without Bucky noticing.

He lifted her again to his waist, retraced his last steps across her bare skin. She held onto his arms, arched backwards as he covered new ground. She urged him on, suggesting things he hadn't done before, things he realized he enjoyed. The soft texture of her breast under his lips, the way her nipple budded with his tongue. He wanted to spend the whole afternoon this way, learning her body. She had other plans. Dropping her legs from his waist, Natasha lowered herself onto his coat, beckoned that he follow. He did, returning to her chest, moving lower to the teardrop of her navel, the other white pucker on her hip. His first shot.

She sat up, mischief in her eyes, and pushed his underwear down his hips. He stopped her and went back to tasting her hips.

"You like a slow build-up, don't you?" Her voice buzzed around his ears, under his lips.

"Only way I know how." He was on the verge of panting, the good kind.

She smiled. "Allow me."

Bucky was on his back faster than he could respond, Natasha sitting on his stomach.

"That was something else."

"Thank you," she purred, pulling his underwear off. "I hope you don't mind me taking over," she asked from below his waist. He couldn't properly respond.

Watching her bob on top of him was surreal. The expression on her face, the sway of her breasts, how her hips jerked just a bit at the end of each thrust. It was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. Unfortunately, that all took him by surprise.

"I'm sorry," he groaned, a too short a time later. "I'm so sorry."

Natasha sat straddling him, her face flushed, chest rising and falling evenly. She rolled her eyes and waved his apologies away. "It's a compliment, really. Besides, after nearly a century you're bound to be quick on the draw. We'll just…" she leaned over, settling on his chest, "try again."

"So, you remember doing things like that?" She asked in between kissing him, ghosting her fingers over him.

He lifted her chin from his chest. "Nothing quite like that. More like…" He gently wrapped his arm around her and rolled, pinning her beneath him, "this."

"Nothing quite like the classics, huh?" She said through a smile, hands running over him.

He reached down to her knee, drew it up beside his hip, running the length of her thigh, and then settled between her legs to show her how he did things. She was louder underneath him. He took that as encouragement and kept at his slow, steady pace. Just before she finished, she dropped her lips into the most delicious pout and called his name. He couldn't keep it slow or gentle after that. Her responses didn't stay gentle either, nails raking his back and shoulders, digging into his rear, shoving him closer to her. She screamed the second time, one hand reached above her, the other holding him inside of her. He didn't last much longer after that, stuttering to a stop, dripping with sweat and her name.

"Shake off… the dust…and... you're a natural," Natasha panted, stretching, arching her back, curling her toes.

Bucky actually laughed. Just laughed and sat back on his heels. "Gee, thanks."

"No. Thank you," she responded, all joking gone from her voice. "Now I know."