Dance
Natasha taught Wanda swing dance on the weekends.
The series of events leading up to it was a little strange. Wanda had never even heard of swing until Bucky and Natasha put on a little show. Apparently, they'd been practicing since before Wanda even got there, and could pull off all kinds of complicated flips, spins, and lifts that Wanda was certain she could never do.
Dr. Bruce seemed a little...jealous. It was at least loud enough that it hit Wanda's telepathy without her trying. Bucky was holding Natasha very close, with his metal arm around her waist, tearing circles around the room and spinning her around and lifting her over his head, and Dr. Bruce seemed to wish he could be the one dancing with Natasha.
But in the applause and hubbub afterwards, when Dr. Bruce sidled up to her to quietly say they did very well, and she looked beautiful in the vintage dress, Natasha kissed him on the cheek, and Bucky looked on and grinned, and any jealousy Dr. Bruce had was quickly gone.
Then they started to tease him about learning to dance. This appeared to be an old argument. Dr. Bruce kept waving it away—"no, no, I can't, I'll be terrible at it"—so Wanda stepped in.
"I'd like to learn," she said, and was surprised how quiet she sounded.
Three sets of eyes were now on her.
"You wanna learn swing?" asked Bucky. He seemed almost...eager. Like this was something he loved very much and wanted to share it with her.
Wanda felt shy, but she shrugged and smiled. "It looks fun."
Bucky beamed and elbowed Bruce. "See, even the rookies are doin' it. Why don't you just give it a try?"
Bruce shook his head. "She'll catch on quicker, she's younger—"
"Aw, c'mon, Bruce!"
"You know what they say about old dogs, new tricks—"
"I'm ninety-eight, Banner, watch who you're callin' old!"
They kept arguing. Natasha leaned over to Wanda. "Ignore them. I'll teach you to dance."
Wanda looked over and smiled, and that's how it began.
At first, it was only informal, but soon it was a scheduled affair, broken only by such extenuating circumstances as battles for the fate of the world. Natasha was a good teacher—firm, but encouraging—and Wanda quickly discovered that she really liked swing, and how it made her skirt whirl like a princess' dress around her knees.
"You're a fast learner," Natasha said with a smile after one practice. "I really ought to teach you ballet sometime."
Wanda was sitting on a bench, drinking greedily out of a water bottle. Dancing was a lot of exercise. But she stopped when she heard Natasha's faraway tone, and saw how she stared, a little sadly, into the mirrors on the walls.
Wanda slowly lowered the water bottle between her knees. "Are you all right?"
Natasha looked at her and smiled. "Sorry. Just remembering."
It was a fake smile—comforting, but fake.
Wanda smiled a little as well, but it was shaky. "Remembering...the Red Room?"
The faraway look was back, and for a moment, Wanda was afraid she asked a bad question. But then, Natasha nodded. "Yeah."
She took a deep breath, lifted her head, and flicked her red hair out of her face. "I'm still trying to redeem it. There's nothing wrong with ballet, it just...brings me back to a bad place."
Wanda nodded and listened. Natasha seemed so much older than her—wiser, and hardened by the world—that it was easy to forget she had her own wounds and weaknesses too.
Natasha looked her way, and this time, the smile was almost genuine. She knelt in front of the bench. "But I figure, if I can be better than my own instructors, and make some good memories, well..." She shrugged one shoulder. "Maybe I can salvage it. If you want to learn, that is."
Wanda felt shy. "I have never done it. I don't think I can lift my leg that high."
Natasha laughed. "That's exactly what Barnes said, when we first started out. Doesn't mean you can't learn."
Wanda's eyes blew up wide. "Bucky does ballet?"
"He helps me." Natasha grinned. "He's pretty good at the lifts, even if his form is bad. That's our trade-off. I'm his partner for swing, and he's mine for ballet."
Wanda laughed. "Can he lift his leg over his head?"
Natasha cackled, and now, she really did seem happy. "Not even close!"
They laughed about that for a little while, before Wanda mustered the courage to ask.
"Is it...the same? For swing?"
She turned and frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I mean...does it hurt? Um...does it bring bad memories?"
Natasha smiled, warm and motherly. "No. Not at all. I had a little experience with it before—S.H.I.E.L.D. assignment, long story, don't ask—but most of everything I know about swing is just goofing off with Barnes.
"It's his happy place." She tipped her head to the side, and her red hair brushed her shoulder. "It kinda became mine."
Wanda smiled. "Then it can be mine, too?"
"Of course! Come on, we still got a little extra time. There's one more song I wanted to show you."
A few weeks later, Wanda had a problem.
Natasha had been called away for a top-secret mission. No one knew exactly where, and Director Fury wasn't dropping any hints, but he did say it was her area of expertise, so the others knew better than to pry.
The only problem was that today was Saturday.
Dance practice day.
Wanda didn't want to skip a lesson. She'd been gaining momentum for weeks, and she felt she'd lose it if she didn't work on it. But Natasha was gone, and nobody else knew how to dance swing.
Well, nobody—save one.
She knocked on the door timidly. Normally, she wouldn't even be in this wing unless there was some emergency. (Technically, there was an emergency, but it was kind of small and silly and didn't really count.)
"S' open," a voice hollered from inside.
Wanda took a deep breath, turned the knob, and poked her head through the door.
Bucky was reading. He was curled up, barefoot, on a chair by the window, basking in a patch of sunlight, and it almost seemed to put golden shimmers in his brown hair.
He is like a cat, she thought.
It would have been funny if she wasn't so nervous.
He glanced over the top of the page, went back to his reading, and then did a double take and dropped his book into his lap. "Uh—Wanda, hey." His feet were immediately off the chair and on the floor. "Sorry, I didn't—"
"It's okay." She fought the urge to hide her face. "I'm sorry to interrupt."
"No, it's—you're all right." He stood up and came to the door, scratching bashfully behind his ear. "You need somethin'?"
She really was sorry to disturb him. He seemed so comfortable. White tee shirt, grey sweatpants, and slightly rumpled hair. He'd been relaxing, and now here she was, trying to ask a favor.
"Well..." Wanda picked at the wood of the doorframe. "Natalia was supposed to teach me dance today, but she is away, so...I..."
Bucky's hand was still behind his ear, but his elbow dropped. "You want me to do it?" He rubbed the back of his neck. "I never, ah...taught anybody..."
"I just need a partner!" She waved her hands in front of her. "I know the steps, but I need to practice."
Bucky blinked. He seemed to be thinking it over. For a moment, Wanda wanted to kick herself for ever thinking this was a good idea.
But then, slowly, he began to smile. "Uh, yeah." He nodded. "Sure, I can do that. Jus'..." He jabbed a finger over his shoulder and grinned. "Give me a minute to change."
"Oh, of course!" She backed up into the hall so he could shut the door. "Thank you!"
His chuckle was low and gravelly. "You're welcome."
So he closed the door, and she was left in the hall, wondering why her heart was still beating so fast.
Never mind. She turned and headed for Combat. He'd meet her there.
The training rooms came in a variety of shapes and sizes. Most of them were outfitted with holograms to simulate different battle scenarios; one of the holo-rooms, taking up almost half of Combat, was as big as an indoor sports field, with plenty of space for Vision, Tony, Rhodey, Sam, and Thor to fly.
This was not one of those. It was a small sparring room, just off the gym, with simple floors and mirrors on opposite walls. There were colored pads that could be laid down on the floor to soften a fall, but they wouldn't need them today.
Natasha kept a speaker and StarkPod in the locker. Wanda turned them on and began searching for their music.
Bucky arrived a few minutes later, looking a little nervous, and glanced around at the mirrors while twirling a hair tie on his fingers.
"Um."
Wanda looked up from the StarkPod.
Bucky smiled apologetically. "Sorry." He held out the hair tie. "Would you be able to, uh..." He gestured to his head. "Help me with this? Natasha is usually the one who puts it up. I can't, see, it gets stuck in the..." He wiggled his metal fingers.
"Oh!" Wanda pushed the StarkPod aside. "Yes, yes, I can. Come on, come sit down."
He hesitated for a moment, then followed her to one of the benches along the side and slowly sat with his back to her. She put the little tie on her wrist and began to gather up his hair.
It was...soft. Clean and silky, practically gliding through her fingers. Wanda didn't know why it surprised her—maybe she'd spent so much time around Pietro that she thought all boys were slobs who only washed themselves when they began to smell—but Bucky's hair was so long, and always looked so healthy, that she felt she should have known he took care of it.
She pulled it back from his forehead with her fingertips, and gathered it up underneath so that the nape of his neck was bare.
There were burn scars, pink and raised and glossy, poking just above the collar of his shirt on the left side.
Just seeing them made her quietly, very, very angry.
Some strange emotion tingled on the edge of her consciousness, as she wrapped the tie around his hair. After a moment, she realized what it was.
"Are you afraid?" she asked.
He stiffened. Then, he forced a grin. "Was I thinkin' too loud?"
"Why?" She let go, and immediately all her work came undone. "Am I hurting you?"
"No, no, not at all! I just..."
He sighed, slumped, and didn't say anything for a moment.
Wanda gave up on the ponytail and sat beside him on the bench. She searched his face, as if it would give her an answer, but only saw his ocean-blue eyes, staring far away past the floor, hidden in the curtain of his hair.
"It's just..." His voice was low, and rasped in his throat. "You spend your whole life lookin' over your shoulder, and...it's hard ta let someone behind you."
Her eyes widened, and she clasped the hair tie to her chest. "Oh, no. I'm sorry."
He chuckled. "It's okay."
"I didn't know, I thought—"
"Hey." He turned and looked right at her. "I'm the one who asked, a'right? I wouldn't'a done it if I didn't trust you. S' just a reflex."
She didn't believe it, at first. But the longer she looked at him, the more she saw it was true. He was afraid, but he was fighting it, in the name of trust.
It made her smile. That was a very high compliment.
She stood, gathered his hair again, and finished tying it properly this time. This time, she didn't hear his fear. He seemed more relaxed, now that he had nothing to hide.
She knew something about looking over her shoulder. Life on the streets in Sokovia—and then, in HYDRA with Strucker—had taught her that. Perhaps she'd never know exactly what he'd gone through, but she knew trust was not cheap currency.
Still, she couldn't help herself. He seemed so serious. She wanted to change that.
"You are right to be wary of me, you know," she said, with mock seriousness. To her glee, his shoulders stiffened a little. "I have many advantages from here."
And she pinched him lightly, just between his shoulder and neck, where it would tickle.
"Hey!" he yelped.
She cackled and ran away. He leaped to his feet and chased. She didn't get halfway across the room before he grabbed her around the waist, and she squealed, squirmed, and swatted at his face. He laughed, grabbed her wrists, and pushed her fist against her own jaw.
"You little punk," he said through laughter. "I jus' said I trusted you! Don't do that again or I'm walkin' out."
"No, don't do that!" she cried, and she couldn't stop smiling. "I need you to teach me."
"Then be nice."
She smirked and tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Fine."
He wrinkled his nose at her, but she could see the twinkle in his eye. He turned away, grumbling under his breath about 'the things I do around here', and 'sweet-faced little cookie, could get away with murder'...
She preened. Now that was a better attitude for dancing.
Wanda hit play on the StarkPod, and just like that, the trumpets and jaunty piano were blaring out from the little speaker. Bucky whirled around with wide eyes, and then threw back his head and laughed.
Wanda couldn't hide her surprise. "You know this?"
"It's the Andrews Sisters!" he said, his arms out wide.
Wanda had no idea if that was supposed to mean something, but she'd have to ask later. After a moment of listening, Bucky shyly began stepping forward and back, clicking his heels on the floor to the beat.
You like my smile
You like my style
Well why don't you make me know it?
He was getting more comfortable—crouching lower, swinging his legs a little more, owning his little patch of space.
You like my walk
You like my talk
Well there's only one way to show it!
He straightened and spun on one heel, stopping with a sharp click of his shoes. Then he turned to Wanda with a smirk.
Boyish! He suddenly seemed years younger, like he'd flown all the way back to the 40's in just a few seconds.
If you want to shake my hand
Like they do it in Harlem
Stick your hand right out and shout
Gimme some skin
My friend!
She smirked, took his hand, and began to step forward with him.
Step right up and take your stand...
He hopped, kicked his legs like he was riding a bicycle, and started stepping backwards. She laughed and made a note of that.
You don't have to be timid...
A hop and a kick of her legs, right along with him, then forward again. He grinned.
Stick your hand right out and shout
He offered his right hand, palm up.
Gimme some skin—
She slapped it.
—my friend!
He threw his head back and laughed until it made his nose wrinkle. Then he linked her arm in his, and they spun around do-si-do.
Smack it
Whack it
Let your hand rotate
A little flourish as they let go, and then linked the opposite arms and pranced the other way.
Show it
Blow it
Put it in your pocket 'til a future date
He spun her around. When she whirled to a stop, laughing, he was backing away from her, with his own fancy footwork.
If you want to shake my hand...
She smiled in spite of herself and matched it.
Like they do it in Harlem...
Forward now, and toward each other. They had to be careful not to kick each other in the shins.
Stick your hand right out and shout
He offered his hand.
Gimme some skin—
She slapped it.
My friend!
He took her by the hand, his metal arm around her waist, and led her in a wide, sweeping circle around the room.
If you like my style
Well show it!
She lifted her arms and twisted her hips one way and then the other, making her skirt spin and flare out.
He looked surprised for a second, but then his grin widened.
If you like my smile
Let me know it!
He lifted their clasped hands over her head and spun her around. When she whirled to a stop, he led her the other way.
If you like my walk
Please tell me!
Bucky snapped Wanda to his side, and walked with rigid, exaggerated steps. She snickered. He grinned.
If you like my talk, well
Skin me, papa, skin me…
He sent her spinning, and started dancing on his own. She was disoriented, and couldn't see, and as she whirled around and around she crashed into the nearest thing for support, and—
It was warm, and made a small noise like 'oof', and backed up a little.
Wanda looked right up.
Wide, ocean-blue eyes were staring back at her.
Bucky had made a mistake.
If...you want...to shake my haaaand…
Patty Andrews' lilting soprano was mesmerizing, but he couldn't hear it. He only saw Wanda—wide brown eyes staring up at him, her little chest heaving and cheeks flushed with exertion and something else, and the way her skirt played around her knees.
Like they do it in Harlem...baaaaaby…
She was close. Too close. Right up against him. And oh, man, he wasn't sure what to do with the fact that it made his stomach flip over inside him.
Wanda turned away bashfully and tucked her hair behind her ear. Was she...was she flirting? No, couldn't be. She was just embarrassed. But the way she looked up at him was so full of warmth and adoration that maybe...just maybe...
Pffft. As if. With everything wrong in his head? Keep dreaming, Barnes. She had her whole life ahead of her, and didn't need to be pinned down with a traumatized man out of time like him.
But he could at least show her a good time today.
Stick your hand right out and shout
Gimme some skin—
All of the sudden, Wanda was up in the air.
She yelped and squirmed. Bucky almost lost hold of her waist. The moment her feet hit the floor, he was laughing.
—my friend!
"What was that?!" he cried.
"You didn't warn me!" she shrieked back.
Step right up and take your stand
You don't have to be timid, baby
"Hasn't Nat taught you how to hang on for a lift correctly?"
"No! She doesn't pick me off the ground!"
"Aw, boy, I got my work cut out, don't I?"
Stick your hand right out and shout
Gimme some skin
My friend!
Wanda turned away and crossed her arms to pout. Bucky just shook his head and chuckled.
Smack it
Whack it, my friend
Let your hand rotate
Wanda didn't turn around until she heard clicking on the floor. When she looked over her shoulder, Bucky was entertaining himself with some fancy footwork that she could never keep up with.
She snorted. "You show-off."
He looked up and laughed, but didn't stop.
Show it
Blow it
Put it in your pocket 'til a future date
The music cut out, and was replaced with clapping. It was infectious. Wanda smiled, dropped her pride, and started clapping along as she joined back in, and Bucky looked absolutely delighted.
Step right up—what for?—and shake my hand
Like they do it in Harlem today
Howww do they do it?
Just stick your hand out
And give out with a shout
Gimme some skin—
Once more, he offered his hand. Once more, she slapped it.
—my friend!
He cheered. She couldn't help but laugh. They went their separate ways, kicking and jiving to the rhythm and the bombastic big band.
The rest of their little practice devolved into having fun and goofing off like that—Natasha was by far the better teacher, but Bucky was more fun—and they got no serious work done at all and were exhausted and very pleased by the end of it.
"You've got promise." Bucky took a long swig from his water bottle and made a small noise to clear his throat. "Give it a couple months, and you'll actually be decent."
"What does that mean?" Wanda was sitting on the bench, but she stood up to perch her hands on her hips and wrinkle her nose up at him. "Am I not any good at dancing now?"
"Well..." He leaned back and looked away, grinning.
"You're so cruel!" She swatted at his face, and he just stumbled backwards and laughed. "I have not been doing this all my life like you!"
"Which is why you gotta learn, doll! That's what all this is for."
"You are so mean." She crossed her arms and tried to look angry. "I'm never asking you for help again."
"Aw." He stuck his bottom lip out at her, then turned back to the water bottle. "Never gonna have my reading time interrupted again, what am I ever gonna do."
She whacked him in the back of the head just as he was taking a drink, and he choked, coughed, and sputtered water everywhere.
"Go away!" Wanda said, trying not to laugh. "Stop bothering me."
"Argh!" he said through coughing laughter as soon as he could breathe. "I got it all down my shirt!"
The strange moment before was forgotten.
Well, sort of forgotten.
Whether or not Natasha actually had a secret mission that Saturday afternoon—and what the nature of that mission was, if she did have one—she'd never disclose. But she came back late that night, and pulled up the day's security footage.
She narrowed her eyes. Propped her chin on her fist. The StarkPad threw blueish-white light on her face as her eyes darted around the screen.
And, slowly, her smile grew into a smirk.
She turned off the tablet.
Mission accomplished.
A/N: Hey all! As promised, I am back, and we kick off this February with the most appropriately Valentines-ish chapter. Thanks for your patience!
I'm sorry for the unexpected hiatus, but I needed the mental space. My best friend, who lives overseas, got her apartment repossessed by the landlord and had all of January to move. But I've got a praise report: God found her an awesome apartment that's even better than the old one in many ways! There are still some renovations to do, but now that she's settled in, I can return to writing.
The song used in this chapter is, of course, "Gimme Some Skin" by the Andrews Sisters. Reviews are hair ties! Tbc...