Chapter 26 - Good Pick

A/N: Not sure it warrants one, but just a small warning for some darker content in this chapter, I didn't make it too explicit.


A dampness clung to her skin and she couldn't remember how she had gotten here. Natasha looked around, registering an empty cold room without windows, the walls grey cement, a single light somewhere above her. She was alone, or was she? Suddenly she was being pressed into a chair, her limbs strapped down, hands were holding her, grasping her, putting something forcefully into her mouth. She tried to spit the hard piece of plastic out, but couldn't. She was slowly suffocating and they were holding her, hurting her...

Natasha came to with a strangled gasp, thick fog clogging her mind. A sharp panic rising up her spine, making her hair stand up when she felt someone move underneath her.

"Natasha." A voice said. Her fist shot out to the source, her knuckles connecting with soft tissue, she could feel the punch throwing his head back, hear him grunt.

She scrambled up in the darkness, writhing backwards, her heart going a hundred miles an hour trying to get away, but a hand was holding down her thigh.

"Wake up." A low voice right in front of her.

She felt the restraint on her leg and all she wanted was to get off this warm body. She was reaching down her waist to find her Glock but grasping into emptiness, then instead flipped her leg up towards the voice and kicked as hard as she could. It connected. Another grunt. Her leg bent to kick again when she was suddenly pulled up and forward, her arms going useless in a hard grip, her legs thrown under her, pinned down by two much stronger thighs. She buckled under the weight with a gasp.

"Natasha, wake up!" His voice was tense now, on the edge. Strange, she thought, she had never heard it in this tone before, it sounded almost sad.

"No.." She heaved once, her lungs finally filling with all the air she needed. The dark hands that had been clawing at her slowly fading away. His small office room came back into her blurry vision, feeling the old leather couch beneath her. James' dark silhouette was sitting in front of her, holding her trembling arms tightly in his hands. She drew a shaky breath, feeling her own wet hair clinging to her face.

"Are you with me?" He asked her and she could hear the worry in it.

She blinked a few times. "Yeah..." She whispered. His hard grip on her loosened, the hands falling off. Her eyes were adjusting to the dimness of the room, far city lights illuminating the half closed blinds. He was sitting tall right in front of her and she had to look up, seeing the dark hair tousled around his head. Something in his face caught a reflection, a dark wet stream glistening right under his nose.

He was bleeding. She had kicked him with her heel into his face, injuring him. "You are.." She gasped, her throat tightening.

"It's nothing." He said immediately and wiped it away with one hand.

She didn't know what to say, all she could do was sit in stunned silence. She had woken from a nightmare and attacked him enough to draw blood. "I didn't mean to.." She scrambled in shock.

"Don't worry about it." He touched her lightly on both of her legs and slowly laid back flat on the couch, rearranging his legs under her. She drove a hand through her damp hair and sat up right with her knees to his sides. How could she not worry about it? She saw his right hand go to his nose again, wiping away more blood. Suddenly she felt awful. Why had this happened? She couldn't—

His hand reached out to her upper arm and gently pulled her down on him again. She didn't resist him, arranging herself until she laid flat on his chest. "Go back to sleep." He whispered and his bionic hand squeezed her shoulder lightly.

As if that was so easy.

She closed her burning eyelids feeling the darkness swallowing her again. He felt warm underneath her and her hands were grasping for something to hold on, one wrapping around the bionic arm, the other clung to his chest. She was out again before she could form another thought.

000

Sunlight tickled her face and she brought up a hand to scratch a spot on her forehead. She slowly opened her crusted eyes and registered late morning light shining into the room. Natasha felt as if she had slept like a dead person while lying belly down on his chest. She pushed a stiff arm into the couch next to him and hoisted herself up, rubbing sleep and unshed tears out of her face. Her red hair flowing down to the side of her neck and she brushed more strands out of her face, when she met his half-open blue eyes staring at her. They looked like they had been awake for a while.

"Morning." His chest vibrated under her.

She looked down at him, immediately seeing faint dark crusted red streaks smeared under his nose, going down the side of his mouth. The memory of her nightly fight came crashing down into her head and she bit her lip, averting her eyes in shame. She could still hear his voice calling her name, trying to get her to stop.

"Morning..." She whispered staring at his dark vest and then back up to his eyes, seeing the yellow bruise already forming on his left brow.

"Not a bad kick." He was lazily looking up to her, a corner of his mouth pulling up.

She stared back at him with clear eyes, her lips pressing into a hard line. "I'm … I didn't mean to."

I'm sorry.

Now he huffed as if she was insulting him. "It's ok. Barely felt it." He said lightly. A bloody nose and a bruise meant nothing to him, they had done worse in the gym the other day. But that was only sparring, last night it had been real. At least for her. Natasha pressed her teeth together. She should be glad that she hadn't had a knife on her, or a gun.

She looked away again in shame, an emotion that in itself she should not allow herself to feel, even with him seemingly not caring about it. He was staring at her with mild pale eyes. It was only making her angry at herself, appearing so weak in front of him.

Irritated she pushed herself all the way up, straddling him, feeling her clothes stiff on her skin. She could smell herself now, the sweat from the night clinging to her clothes. But so did his particular scent, coming from his armor, sticking to her, enveloping her. She finally swung her legs over to the edge of the cushion, sliding off of his midsection. Her bare feet touched the cold ground and she relaxed her back, bending forward slightly. There was a knot in her shoulders, her fingers finding the sore spot and massaging the muscles beneath it for a few seconds.

He rose as well and sat next to her. The dark hair was mussed up and his black clothes wrinkled just like her own. He had slept in the armored vest like it wasn't there, something he'd do without wasting a thought on it.

"You know, you've done this before. Talked in your sleep, and sometimes attacked." He rumbled suddenly from her left side.

Her head snapped over to him. "What?"

Huh? What the hell was he talking about?

"It's never been that bad. Gotten less actually." He explained calmly. "Usually I just hold you and you stop after a few seconds." Her mouth stood open, trying to understand what he was saying. He had never mentioned anything.

"I didn't know." She was stunned. How come she couldn't remember having those nightmares and acting out on them? Or maybe it was a blessing that she didn't.

They sat in silence, his right leg brushing against hers. "What was it about?" He asked finally.

Natasha had a faint idea but couldn't hold onto that thought. The memory was fleeting, drowning in a fog in the back of her head, unable to see it clearly.

"I don't know." She said quietly.

They had done something to her back then, deep in the bowels of the Department. That fact alone wasn't anything new. She had been through many things, her body used to the harsh training when it was sharpened like a knife and molded into a weapon over the course of years. But she couldn't remember that room, or what had happened in it. She had a feeling it had been less about her body that time and more about her mind.

She stood abruptly, not wanting to elaborate to him, and walked over to the duffel bag to dig out her clothes and bathroom items. "I'm taking a shower." She said over her shoulder and saw him nod, accepting that this topic was done for now, before she disappeared into the bathroom.

000

Her green eyes stared back emptily like they always did, blinking under high eyebrows and black lashes and hiding too well what really lied in the depth. She averted them and they went down to her phone. It had a message on it, telling her the final brief wouldn't be until later. She was ok with that.

The shower was long, steaming up the whole tiny space, her hair took even longer. It felt a bit silly to go the length to straighten it, but she did it anyway, wanting to keep herself occupied. Seeing herself now made her feel better again, almost newborn.

She found him leaning back on the couch as if waiting. He glanced over to her when she stepped out of the bathroom, his eyes widening a bit at the sight of her hair and light makeup. Her grey laptop was laying closed right beside him.

"Can you unlock it?" Barnes asked looking up to her. She had forgotten that it required a login for him to use.

"Sure." She murmured and walked up to him, then kneeled down in front of the couch, twisting the laptop towards her and snapped it open. Her hands rattled quietly over the keyboard as he watched her. She logged in under her name and with a few clicks removed the restrictions for a password for now.

Natasha glanced up to him and handed the open laptop back into his hands.

He was going to look at his file.

A strange sensation spread in her stomach and she wasn't sure what to feel. There was a nervousness, not knowing what to expect from it, what he expected. His face gave nothing away when he bent his head a bit lower, the wavy hair falling over his eyes.

She sat in silence for a while, kneeling next to him as he clicked around on the track pad. She was watching him intently. His expression didn't change, he only seemed to grow very concentrated. Then he looked over to her and when their eyes met it was as if Natasha was falling out of a trance.

She had been glued to his face, wanting to see a reaction so badly that she suddenly felt as if she was invading his privacy. She had no idea what the file truly contained, but she guessed it was his entire life that began when a man named James Buchanan Barnes ceased to exist. Every single intimate fact about him laid out in the open, collected in little reports and documents and lab results. Things that were so painful and personal, they should not ever be seen by another pair of eyes. Still, they had been raked over by dozens, if not hundreds of people involved in his project.

And she knew how that felt.

A clump formed in her throat and she got up again. She would let him go over this alone until he felt like sharing it.

"I need a coffee, I'm going to the lobby for a bit, ok?" She said softly.

He glanced back at her with unreadable blue eyes. "Ok."

000

Natasha wasted a few hours walking through the building and had ended up in the bustling front lobby. She'd bought a cup of coffee and was just aimlessly strolling and weaving through employees and other people that were on their way to work or a meeting, rushing through the huge hall.

She couldn't stop thinking about her panic attack. She hadn't assaulted him consciously, but a trace of guilt stayed with her, remembering the dark stream gushing out of his nose. Clint had never mentioned that she talked or did other things while she slept during the night.

Was it because he was back with her after all these years? Was her mind trying to connect the dots that lead to something else?

She wondered what he was doing right this moment, what he was finding out about himself. He already had a good grasp on what he had done in the past, what else could he learn about himself? The complete hellish torture he'd been put through, or the rest of the ruthless sins he had committed?

What if it showed anything about the both of them? It hadn't been a secret that she had been his favorite recruit, his hidden affection shining through the more she had gained his respect. The day she had beaten him in hand to hand combat had changed things for them. After that, he had chosen her, and only her, to go on missions with, and to accompany him. An honor that many of the other young girls in the program would have given everything for.

And what had they done together.

What hadn't they done?

She couldn't remember all their assignments, but from the fragments that were floating in her head they had been efficient and merciless. As some officials had called them, an extraordinary lethal combination. She had killed without remorse, taking targets down like it was nothing. It had come to her like second nature, ingrained into every fiber of her being. The things she had done with a garrote alone sent a rippling shiver up her spine.

She had felt no remorse either on a hot, humid summer day in 1992, an AK-47 gripped in her calm steady hand, one finger on the trigger. A drop of sweat rolling into her steely eyes that left a burning sensation when she wiped it away, overlooking a panicked marketplace in a borough of São Paulo that was now covered in lifeless bodies.

The things she had done.

Her hand twitched and balled into the fist. There was so much red on them, it was dripping, no, it was gushing red.

As much as she had pretended that she was above the twisted cruelty of this taunt by the Asgardian, she had never truly forgotten that sentence. She had wanted to, putting on a casual uncaring face, but it was burned into the back of her mind and she couldn't claw it out as much as she tried. Not that she would ever admit this to anyone, no, she wouldn't show weakness. But the god creature they had captured two years ago on a helicarrier had been one of the first to see through her blank facade, staring straight into her corrupted soul.

She was gritting her teeth. There was so much red that it could never be wiped away. But she would make it right, she had sworn herself that. She would make it right. Even if it meant pulling out the all the evil by the root.

000

Natasha found that she had wandered outside into the open courtyard in the back of the building, a half full cup still in her hands. With a long sigh she sat down on one of the benches next to a manicured tree and took a sip. Other people were out, enjoying the rare spots of sunshine on their late lunch break. She closed her eyes and turned her face towards the sky soaking up any of the warm rays that found her. She sat in silence for a long while, letting all these dark thoughts drift away under a blue sky.

Her mind was blank, when she heard footsteps approaching. They stopped in front of her.

"Watch out you might get a tan." A warm voice spoke up and she could hear the smile in it. She blinked an eye open at the tall figure in front of her.

"Not with you in the way, Rogers." She said lazily. Steve had strolled in from one of the parking lots in the back, his shield strapped onto his back. It was glinting in the sun.

He smiled at her, crossing his arms in front of him. "How are you doing?"

She sat straight now, opening both eyes and looked up to him. "Good." She said simply, studying his face. There was no trace of the black eye that Barnes had given him just the other morning. Bruises healed at an incredible rate on him, much faster than on her and it still amazed her sometimes.

"You just by yourself out here?"

"Yeah."

Steve looked around anyway and Natasha knew who he was searching for, but not finding him. He stopped scanning the courtyard and pressed his mouth together and took a step closer to her. His smile made way for a more serious expression.

"I heard what happened last night, the short version at least. Hill had invited me to go over some details." He paused. "I can't believe this is still continuing." There was a hardness in his voice that was sort of atypical for him, but Natasha shared his feelings. They both were exhausted in dealing with Hydra double agents, the corruption, the pain of having to flee from their own people still lingering in their bones. The memories of it too fresh.

"Yeah, and somehow I have the feelings it's still not the last." She shrugged. Of course it wouldn't be, lies and betrayal were everywhere. She was a walking example of it.

Steve was studying her now and she could feel him going over every corner of her face. Her tired green eyes probably speaking volumes even to him. What the hell was he looking for? As if he could tell what had happened during the night. That she had slept on Barnes, and then kicked him bloody?

"Everything ok with you?" He asked, slight concern shining through.

"I'm fine." She answered with unintended sharpness and saw him shrink back just a little bit. She didn't need him to worry so much about her, it was ridiculous. She pressed her lips together and took a deep breath. She continued in a milder voice.

"Are you in on this tonight?"

Steve hesitated for a moment, then he shook his head. "I don't know yet, I think I'm going to a different location than the rest. But I'm about to find out." He looked at the row of glass doors leading inside the headquarter, but didn't make a move yet.

He started padding his hands over his pockets, pulling something out the back of his pants. "Hey, also..." He began, opening a small white notepad. "I forgot to mention that to you. I got a new apartment and you're welcome to come by anytime." He started scribbling down an address. "Tell Buck that he is too, of course."

"Is that one fully bugged like your last?" She gave him a wry smile.

Steve huffed once. "It shouldn't be." He murmured. "Only me, Sam, and now you and Buck know about it."

"I guess we can be all over for tea sometime."

"Yeah." He said somewhat distracted while finishing the address, not catching her sarcasm. Then he glanced up and ripped out the page, holding it out to her. "Can you give him that."

"Him?" She took the paper, furrowing her brows.

"It's about the other side mainly."

She twisted it around, seeing the page full of words. "Is that one of your lists?"

"Yeah, it's just a few things I'm working on as well. Maybe he'd be interested in them."

"Why don't you give him that yourself?"

He hesitated for a moment. "I think, well, it's easier this way." Steve looked at the doors again as if he was late for his meeting. "Make sure he takes it, ok?"

Rogers was acting rather confident but Natasha could see the underlying feelings written on his face. A lot hung on this paper apparently and he very badly wanted James to have it. Maybe it was meant as a small token of friendship, or the beginning on an apology.

"Sure." She answered and her voice was soft.

000

It was afternoon when Natasha strode back into his room, seeing him in his armor even after he had taken a shower. The thick vest laid on the floor, only an insulated black shirt covering his torso that exposed the bionic arm. He stood near the desk, looking up to her as she kicked off her boots. He was holding the M4 rifle in one hand as if ready to use it. The ammo clip in his other hand clicked back into place with a sharp sound and he lowered the weapon, laying it down next to the other handguns on the desk.

Apparently he was done looking at his document.

She could already feel the concentration coming from him as he was inspecting his weapons. The strong urge to go and do what he did best. He turned fully to her when Natasha got closer and she put down a plastic bag on a free spot on the desk. The food in it came from a deli a block away that she had walked to in order to give him some time alone. Now that she looked at him, she wondered if he had needed all these hours. His face was blank, giving nothing away, if anything his mouth was curved into a half smile for her.

"That coffee took a while." He said, a little taunt in it at her lie.

"I got busy." She answered casually. "You hungry?" She turned to the bag and got his portion of a sub sandwich out, it looking better than what the cafeteria in house would produce. She pressed it into his bionic hand and they sat down together, her on the office chair, and they ate in silence. Her eyes inconspicuously kept finding their way to his face. The traces of blood were gone, washed away, but his nose looked a bit raw, or maybe that was just in her head...

"It's not broken." He said suddenly, piercing her. "Stop worrying about it."

She huffed when he caught her staring, and averted her eyes. Before the silence was creeping back in, she instead stuck a hand into her pocket and rummaged through it, pulling out the paper. She looked back up to him with a mouth full of food.

"Here, from Steve."

She held it out and he stared at her outstretched hand. He finally reached over and took it wordlessly with his human hand, twisting it to read the address, creases on his forehead. Then he turned it around to look on the back, reading that side as well.

"What is that?" He asked in a low voice.

"His apartment. And things for you to check out." She said gently.

"He gave you this?" Barnes sounded puzzled.

"Yeah."

He studied the bulleted list. "The Berlin Wall?" He said suddenly and looked up. "I've been there before." A thin smile on his mouth, as if he knew a secret that not a lot of people were in on. Natasha blinked at him, pressing her mouth together. Should she be surprised at that statement? She somehow wasn't but still...

"Well, the wall is gone now. You can google it sometime."

His eyes got serious again. "I have been." He shifted his head. "Random things."

This fact stunned her, she'd not been aware that he had been researching some of the history online he missed out on. Let alone how quickly he had picked up on how to use the internet.

"That's good." She said, and she meant it, her expression mild now for him. He needed more exposure to how the current world worked, immerse himself into things that had been withheld from him for so long. "There are some movies listed on there too, if you want to see any."

He looked at her drawing his eyebrows together, then concentrated back down at the paper. "Which ones?"

Natasha got up from the chair and took a step, plopping down right next to him. She leaned over and he held the paper out in front of her. Her eyes went up and down over the random bullet points.

I Love Lucy. Moon Landing. Berlin Wall. Steve Jobs. Disco. Thai Food. Star Wars/Trek. Nirvana. Rocky. Troubleman.

Steve's hand writing was a tad messy, as if he scribbled those words down quickly whenever something interesting came up in a conversation. But it was readable nonetheless.

"Well there's a couple." She started. "And they're all not bad. Rocky, that's a good one." She mumbled.

He didn't reply, only studied the words.

"Star Trek, there's a bunch of those. And several tv shows. That would take a while to get through."

"I see." He rumbled.

And then there was one movie that she was particularly fond of. She couldn't help it, a small grin appearing on her face and she bumped him in the arm. "You should see Star Wars first. I have that one on the laptop and we can watch it together sometime."

He was now looking over his right shoulder at her, past his dark long hair. He studied her grinning expression and his eyes went soft for her, seeing her excitement. "Ok."

Her own idea painted such a silly picture in her head that she wanted to laugh out loud, but at the same time, and she wouldn't admit that, it somehow made her feel warm inside. She noticed absent-mindedly that the sun shone through the window at a lower angle now.

"We should get going." She said slowly and got up now, leaving his side. "I need to get my suit and check on the weapons before the brief."

He was studying her every move as she went to get her boots again. "Alright."

000

She had his M4A1 carbine on her back when they arrived at the private armory that was only accessible for rank 8 and above agents. She had made him wear his coat to cover the arm, and take his vest as well as his holsters with him. The door opened with a small hiss to the sleek modern suite, the walls covered in a dark grey coating, dim recessed lights turning on automatically for them. A gleaming row of lockers lined the back and sides in between hidden large drawers that were arranged throughout the room. Larger weapons were openly displayed on big shelving systems that went up to the ceiling.

The big space was parted into different sections and they strode past a few benches and shelves, Natasha leading in front, hearing his heavy boots walk right behind her. He wasn't even trying to be quiet and she knew that saunter he would do, the slow measured strolling he would fall into when he circled in on a target.

She had to force herself to not look over her shoulder to him. Instead she kept her head straight and led him around a corner to the back left.

Natasha stopped near her own private locker area and took the rifle from her back, leaning it carefully on the wall behind her. Barnes shrugged off his coat, letting it drop to the floor where he stood, then grabbed his vest into both hands. His arms went into it and he pulled the kevlar material down over his torso. Her eyes were following his movements, his hands blindly finding every strap on his armor to adjust them until it fit like a second skin.

He looked up at her when he was done and then glanced at the rest of the room, his eyes wandering over all the weapons. There was a small excitement dancing in them and they grew concentrated again at the outlook.

Maybe she wanted to make up for that kick, but she suddenly stepped forward right in front of him and padded him into the chest with a flat hand.

"I have something for you. Wait here."

Natasha walked quickly across the room, passing the fully equipped weapon shelves. Handguns. Glock 19s. COP 57 Derringers. SIG-Sauer P220. She walked past those, not in need of something small. Next came a shelf full of Heckler & Koch as well as the Steyr series. The european ones weren't bad rifles, not at all, but she preferred the soviet made big calibers. Those sat better in her hand, molded right into it.

Home is where the heart is. She rolled her eyes at herself.

She stopped at a larger counter in the back and took a good look. This was what she'd been searching for. She slowly stuck out her hand and brushed over the long guns in front of her, looking for something, a specific one. Her hand stopped abruptly.

There it is.

Dragunov SVD semi-automatic, large caliber. Natasha took the sniper rifle out of its stand, then felt around in the shelves below, finding a corresponding suppressor. The Dragunov had been around since the 60ies and he had used it extensively back then, one of the weapons they both knew in and out. There were several packs of standard 7.62×54mmR ammunition that she also took. 800 meters effective firing range, 10-round magazine, PGN-1 night scope. The facts kept rattling off in her head without even thinking about it, every detail about this weapon had been drummed into her head.

With the rifle in one hand and the ammunition in the other she walked back to him. He leaned on the wall where she had left him, his eyes going wide at the sight of her. She stopped in front of him and carefully held it out in both hands. He grasped the cold metal as if he was embracing a long lost love.

"Good pick." He murmured at her, while he started to inspect the additions to it. It was definitely a newer model, but it should work all the same.

"I know." She answered almost smugly. It made her a little excited to see him this way.

He finally laid it into his shoulder, his face pressing against the cold body of it, closing one eye to look out of the sight. He aimed randomly into the room, the stance completely natural to him, his body rigid but calm. Except.. a dark strand was hanging down into his face and he lowered the gun again, brushing the long hair behind his ears, but one fell right back in his eyes.

How could he even deal with this?

"James." She said suddenly and he looked over to her. Natasha stepped right up to him, her hips brushing against his. She slowly reached up with both hands and cupped his face into them, feeling his stubble prick her palms. He looked at her questioningly and lowered the hand holding the weapon. Her fingers ran carefully into his thick wavy hair, collecting it all. She had to stand on tip toes to reach that far. He leaned his head forward to make it easier for her, her face now just inches from him.

It came together in a little bun on the back of head and she held it there with her right hand.

"Have you thought about cutting it? I can do it for you." She asked from below him. He was still only staring at her, but a corner of his mouth went up slightly.

"Why?"

"It's pretty long." Natasha studied his face that usually lied hidden behind those dark chunks. His high forehead that she never really saw, the brows right over the narrow eyes. The stubbled jaw and cheeks. There was always a permanent darker shade under his eyes, making him look more tired than he really was. But there were also creases around them too, from laughing a lot in another life.

"It would help you see better, for tonight." She continued and raised an eyebrow to make her point.

"No." He answered. "I still have your hairband." And that was his answer to that problem apparently.

"Fine." She opened her hand and let the hair spill again, it springing back to the front of his face, sending a wave of soapy scent to her. It was just an offer. She thought she actually liked the longer hair, even though it might be impractical for him. A small smile was playing on his mouth as he rose up again. His eyes were serious now and they had darkened.

She took a step away from him again, turning around to face her locker. Her fingers going over the electronic door lock, entering a combination.

"You've never seen my suit, have you?" She asked over her shoulder.

"No." His answer came quietly.

At least not the one that was issued by SHIELD. It was rather advanced, and it got better and better with every iteration. The material was light and flexible, but strong enough to protect her at the same time. The locker went open and she started stripping her clothes without wasting a second thought. Her shirt came off and her hands went to her jeans, opening the buttons and peeling her legs out of them. She stood in her standard issue black cotton underwear, taking her suit of the hangers, when she felt the air shift behind her. Goosebumps were rising on her skin and a heat rushed down into her stomach.

She would lie if she said she hadn't seen it coming.

His strong arms whirled her around and pushed her back against the lockers, his black clad body grinding into her bare skin, pinning her into place. His hands went flat against the metal doors beside her head and he looked down at her with dark eyes. The look in them could have meant either desire or blood lust. Her heart fluttered when she craned her neck back, parting her lips.

He slowly, teasingly, lowered his head onto hers, not breaking eye contact until she couldn't hold hers open anymore, screwing them shut. His warm breath was hitting her face, making her forget where she was, pushing all other thoughts away. Only his lips existed now as they found their way onto her mouth, his warm tongue meeting hers, making her sigh in pleasure.

Her hands snaked up around his neck and through his hair, pressing herself closer into him. She angled her head for a deeper kiss, his stubble scratching along her skin.

He groaned longingly into her mouth and dug his hands hard into her naked waist. Natasha writhed under the forceful touch, wanting him to leave his marks, wanting him to take her however he wanted.

His lips pulled back for a moment, saliva glistening on her mouth, and she could see the arousal in his dark eyes. His hands went on her bottom, lifting her easily up against him and she wrapped her legs around his hips. The stubbled face now vanishing in the curve of her neck, pressing hot kisses on her sweaty skin. She shifted her head to the side and bit her bottom lip. His words came out labored, whispered against her hair. "You're mine... Natasha."

She gave a soft gasp when she felt him bite down playfully where her neck met her shoulder. She leaned back into the locker behind her, her legs wrapping tighter around him him, feeling his stiff pants press hard against her bare inner thighs.

The far door opened with a hiss. "Nat, you in here?" A loud voice.

Natasha completely froze in shock, her eyes flying open when her mind was yanked back into the cold armory they were standing in. She scrambled for an answer, the words rushed and urgent. "Hold on Rogers!"

James withdrew with a sucking sound from her neck when they heard footsteps coming down the room.

"I'm getting dressed, give me a minute." She yelled now hastily. Her legs unwrapped from Barnes and he reluctantly helped her down on the floor, holding her by the waist.

Now Rogers was scrambling at the thought of seeing her accidentally nude. "Oh... sorry." She heard him say uncomfortably somewhere around the corner when his footsteps stopped. "The brief is moved up, Hill wants to see us in a few."

"Ok, got it." She tried to sound casual and they listened to Rogers walked out again, the door shutting behind him.

That was too damn close. Her heart was fluttering from the scare and she took a few deep breaths, Barnes stroking her skin softly.

Her hands were still grasping his shoulders when she looked up to him almost apologetically.

"We should get going." She said, slightly confused with herself at what she was doing.

He shrugged, holding her waist, his eyes telling her that he wanted to continue this later. Then a small smile appeared on his mouth. "Can't wait to see that suit on you."


I know you guys probably expected more action, but that will be soon. There's so much fluff in this chapter, I'm about fluffed out. The list that they are referring to is taken straight from the movie. And sorry if it appears that I have a gun fetish, I really don't, but I find it fun for them to bond over it :)

I have a couple more chapters planned if I can get them out, but there's an end in sight.