folks, I think I finally did it. I think I finally wrote a chapter that's happier than it is angsty. ;)
been busy writing lately...even posted a new one shot that was actually intended to be a chapter in this one, but ended up not fitting. check it out if that intrigues you. we're continuing with the food (and Nat cooking, for that matter) theme here.
hope y'all are staying safe. enjoy.
"We coulda just called her, Steve. Or texted."
Steve tilts his head slightly as he rolls his eyes. Bucky wonders if that's a habit he picked up from Stark, who seemed to favour it. "It's fine, relax."
"I'm just saying," Bucky says while gesturing with his hands, "woulda been more polite. You don't just drop in on a girl with no warning."
"Consider it payback then."
Bucky frowns. "Payback?"
"She used to sneak into my apartment all the time. I'd come home after a long day and she'd be there sitting on my couch, eating my food, feet up on my coffee table as she watched TV."
Bucky grins widely before a laugh escapes. "Damn."
"Yeah," Steve says, shooting a look sideways at Bucky while he knocks on Natasha's door. "So I don't feel the least bit guilty about dropping by and knocking."
"Grudges don't look good on you, Steve," Bucky teases.
The door opens then, ending their banter. Bucky watches Natasha's gaze shift from Steve to himself before she smiles.
"We really need to stop meeting like this," she remarks drily. "Don't tell me he's drunk already. It's barely 5:30."
Bucky stifles a laugh as Steve's gaze narrows. "Hilarious. One time, and you never stop giving me shit about it."
"Language, Captain!" she chides with a smirk.
Steve just groans.
"I'm getting the feeling there's a story there," Bucky says as he looks back and forth between the two of them. Both their reactions confirm his suspicion. "Oh, I'm definitely gonna need to hear that one at some point," he adds as he meets her gaze.
She winks and mouths "later" to him.
"I'm right here, Nat," Steve points out.
"Yeah," she drawls, as she leans her shoulder onto the doorframe and crosses her arms over her chest, "but you haven't explained why yet."
"We-" Steve begins.
"Hey, what's with the 'we'?" Bucky protests immediately. "I was in favour of texting or calling, like a normal person. Don't rope me into your crazy plan."
"We," Steve repeats, shooting Bucky a look, "were wondering if you wanted to join us for a drink."
She grins, clearly amused. "Have you eaten yet?"
Steve shakes his head.
"Then no."
Steve's expression falls immediately. "No?"
"I've seen the outcome of you drinking on an empty stomach, and I'm not keen to repeat it. Food first. Then drinks."
Bucky watches as Steve's expression brightens again immediately. "We can do that," he agrees enthusiastically. "You got a place in mind?"
"Greek?" she offers.
Steve considers it. "You thinking Nefeli's?" he asks, and she hums in agreement. "Yeah, I could do that. Buck, you good with that?"
He shrugs. "If it's good food, I'm in."
He's never been particularly picky with food, aside from generally not having much exposure to spicy food. A lot of his diet as the soldier had been protein bars and nutrition packets they provided. And then while working with Sam it had been a lot of pizza, steaks, and pasta, but they'd eaten some more exotic food from time to time. Sam was always the more adventurous of the two of them though.
Steve's eyes light up suddenly and he turns back to face Nat again. "Or…" he starts slowly.
Bucky frowns gently because he knows that look; he'd been on the receiving end countless times throughout their childhoods. That look means Steve is going to try and convince her to do something she likely isn't keen to do.
It takes her less than a second to connect the dots. "No," she says firmly as she pushes off the door frame to stand up straight, arms coming down to her sides.
"I mean, we have a very capable chef right here in front of us," he continues, undeterred.
"I'm not a chef," she retorts, pointing a finger at him in an arguably slightly menacing manner. Bucky suspects if he hadn't known her for years, Steve would have relented then, if not long before.
"It would be a shame to let that talent go to waste."
"Flattery will get you nowhere with me, Rogers. You know that."
"We could swing by the store and grab whatever you need…"
She sighs heavily, and Bucky knows then that the once famed Black Widow's resolve has begun to crumble.
"C'mon, Nat," Steve says, going in for the final blow. "Buck hasn't had your cooking yet."
"Actually, we made nachos the first night you got drunk," Bucky points out. He feels an odd urge to provide her some support because they had clearly interrupted whatever plans she'd had for the evening. And who were they to demand she cook for them anyway?
Steve turns and shoots him a look that clearly asked why Bucky was undermining his efforts. "Nachos do not count as Nat's cooking. Believe me."
"Hey, they were pretty good nachos," he argues, flashing a trademark Bucky Barnes shit-eating grin at him, "and besides, if the lady doesn't want to cook, she doesn't have to."
"When did you become the responsible one in this friendship?"
Bucky laughs. "I've always been the responsible one, pal. Let's not forget who was willing to break the law to get the okay to join the army."
"That's got nothing to do with being responsible."
"Yeah, because signing up to let scientists do an experiment on you is totally a responsible thing to do," Bucky retorts before dodging the swat from Steve.
"It was one scientist," Steve argues, holding up a single finger. "One."
"You told me Howard was there too."
"He's not a scientist, he's an engineer."
"Ahem." The cough draws their attention back to the redhead. "Are you two done?"
They both grin sheepishly.
"Sorry," Bucky apologizes, finding his voice first. "I meant what I said though. If you don't want to cook, we can go out somewhere. Don't let this idiot try to guilt you into anything."
She eyes them both with a narrowed gaze. "First of all, Steve has never guilted me into doing anything."
Bucky grins at her dry delivery and the deliberate pause that follows. "Second...fine we can eat here. But I'm not cooking. We're cooking," she says, twirling her finger around to point to everyone.
"No problem," Steve promises. "We're happy to help, right Buck?" he adds while throwing another quick look over to Bucky that is clearly an 'agree with me, right now' look.
"Right, yeah," Bucky says with a nod. "Of course."
"Yeah, yeah. Now get in here so I can make a list."
"What're we having?" Bucky asks as they follow her into her house. Steve had mentioned once or twice that she liked to cook and was pretty good at it, but he never said what she made. He guessed Russian, for obvious reasons.
She leads them to the back of the house and into the kitchen. "I'm thinking paella."
Bucky frowns. "Paella?"
"It's a Spanish dish," she explains.
"Don't worry, Buck. It's delicious. You'll love it."
He shrugs. "I'm game for anything."
Nat smiles. "Okay, paella it is." She glances in her fridge and a few cupboards before pausing to scribble down a list and hand it to Steve.
"We'll be back in 30," Steve promises.
"Oh no, you're getting the groceries," she says pointing at him for emphasis. "We're going to start the prep," she finishes, pointing between herself and Bucky.
Steve frowns for a second, and Bucky figures he's maybe wondering if leaving them alone together is a good idea. He doesn't blame him for the thought - he and Nat haven't really interacted much beyond that night they shared nachos not too long ago. Though to be fair, they had covered a lot of ground that night.
"Get going, Rogers," she commands before shoving him out of the kitchen, much to Bucky's amusement.
"Alright, alright," Steve says, holding up his hands in a calming gesture as he backs up out of the kitchen before turning around and heading toward the front door.
They hear the door slam shut and then Bucky turns to face Nat. "I'm afraid to ask how much prep there is for this…"
Her grin is as wide as a cat that's caught the canary. "Actually, not that much, and we can't do anything for the paella until he's back. I just wanted some payback for him barging in and expecting me to cook."
Suddenly Bucky is worried they'd overstepped. "I tried to talk him outta it, but he insisted. And you know how he gets."
She waves off his worry. "Don't worry, it's fine. I don't mind. But he's gotta work for it a bit, you know?"
Bucky chuckles and nods.
"Since we're here, we could make some bread if you wanted."
His brows rise. "That's ambitious," he says, vague recollections fading into his mind of how much work bread was to make.
"This bread's actually pretty easy."
"Says the one with cooking skills Steve apparently reveres."
She laughs. "Misplaced, I assure you."
"The nachos say otherwise," he retorts with a wink.
"Careful," she warns, "you haven't had any actual food that I've cooked."
"I've heard Steve's stories. That's enough."
She shakes her head. "Okay, enough stalling, Barnes. Let's get started on this dough."
Bucky was surprised to learn that she hadn't been kidding about the bread not being too difficult. He'd actually done a good chunk of the work mixing together the dough under her careful direction. He'd enjoyed the feel of the dough in his left hand more than he'd ever admit and had appreciated that she'd let him take care of the kneading and mixing.
With the dough sitting on the counter and no further work to do until Steve got back, they'd settled onto one of the couches in the room at the front of the house with some snacks and a couple of beers.
"So, about that whole "language" thing earlier…" he prompts, using air quotes.
"Right. So, we were taking on some Hydra goons, and Tony was trying to find a way into the fortress but wasn't having much luck," she begins explaining.
"So he eventually throws out a "shit" in frustration and without missing a beat, Steve hops onto comms to chastise him with a "language" in his best disappointed-in-you tone."
"He did not," Bucky says incredulously. Talk about a goody-two shoes.
"He did," she confirms solemnly. "He said it just slipped out."
Bucky's brow arches doubtfully. "I'm sure it did."
Nat laughs. "Don't worry, we all teased him about it for months."
"Good. Punk deserves it."
He lets the silence linger for a beat as he takes in the joy and amusement twinkling in her eyes. He wonders then if she misses it, because he knows better than most the struggle to reconcile that the times that were filled with burgeoning friendships and bonds to last a lifetime were also filled with such violence.
"Do you miss it?" he asks, his curiosity getting the better of him.
Her brow crinkles in a gentle frown. "Miss what?" she asks before taking a long drink from her beer.
"The team. Fighting together."
"Sometimes," she admits. She pauses, but Bucky knows she has more to say and stays quiet to let her collect her thoughts, tipping his bottle back for a long drink. "We were probably at our best then. Politics hadn't run right through the middle of us, Tony didn't have a massive weight of a guilty conscience on his chest, and he and Steve hadn't come to blows yet."
Yeah, blows over me, he thinks bitterly. "Well, from what I remember and what Sam told me, you all were quite a force to be reckoned with."
"Well, we were motivated, that's for sure. The sceptre we'd secured after the New York invasion had fallen through the cracks with the whole Hydra situation. We knew it was dangerous in the wrong hands and we had to get it back."
"So you went on the offensive," he says knowingly.
She nods. "Yeah. But despite that it had gone missing, our spirits were high. The banter on comms was always entertaining."
"With Stark around, I'll bet. That guy is a walking pop culture reference machine."
"Yeah, he does like his references, that's for sure." It's her turn to pause for a beat and he can feel the shift in the vibe of the conversation. "Things went downhill after that though. Seemed to be one thing after another, and eventually it snowballed to a point where we were almost fractured beyond repair."
Bucky nods because he knows what she's talking about. Steve and Sam filled in some gaps from when he was recovering in Wakanda, and then Steve filled in some more from when he was dust.
"You all came together in the end," he offers, but he knows it's a poor consolation. She'd wanted the team...her family...to be back together, and she'd laid down her life for them, never again getting to be with them all.
"Yeah," she says, and he can tell it's still a sore subject, even all this time later. They both take another drink from their beers. "Do you miss the time with the Howling Commandos?"
He rubs his chin thoughtfully as he considers her question. "Sometimes," he says with a nod. Probably the same way she misses her team, he thinks. Clearly they have more in common than he had realized. "I mean, the war was...awful. And unlike Steve I wasn't real keen on going in the first place, but once he came along and the Commandos got started up...there were some good times, yeah."
"Shenanigans, I assume?"
He barks out a light laugh. "Yeah, we had some good pranks going back and forth. But mostly I miss the camaraderie, you know?"
She nods and hums in agreement. "I imagine you've got some of that back now though. Steve mentioned you guys meet up sometimes for drinks."
"Yeah," he hedges because it's nice to see them all, but it feels different.
"Just not quite the same?" she guesses, and he wonders if she's always been this good at reading people. Of course she has, his mind supplies immediately, she was trained in it since she was a kid.
"No, not quite," he agrees. "I suppose that's to be expected though, since there isn't an international conflict threatening to end mankind."
"I know the feeling." And he realizes that she does indeed know it, maybe even better than him.
Another thought occurs to him. "You know, it's too bad you and I didn't get to team up. The Winter Soldier and the Black Widow would've scared the shit outta those Hydra assholes."
She laughs. "I'm not certain our styles would really mesh in the way you're thinking."
"How d'ya figure?"
"If Steve's tales and the scar on my stomach are to be believed you're quite the marksman. I tended to operate in a more up close and personal kind of way."
He can't help the grimace at her casual mention of the scar he'd given her. He didn't remember everything from his time as the soldier, but he remembered most of that particular mission.
"Don't," she scolds softly, knowing exactly where his mind had gone. "We're way past that."
He offers an apologetic half-smile at being caught. "Weren't you partnered with a guy called Hawkeye? I think that implies the long-distance and Black Widow styles mesh well enough."
She grins sheepishly. "Yeah, okay. You got me there," she admits before tipping her bottle back to finish her beer.
"Besides, I'm no slouch up close. You saw me fight Steve hand to hand. You had to shoot a grenade at me to get rid of me," he offers cheekily.
"Oh, now I have to get you on the mat at the gym," she says, referencing their chat over nachos a few nights previous.
"Is that a challenge, Romanoff?"
"You bet your ass it is, Barnes."
"Well fine, but I'll be at a bit of a disadvantage," he says as he holds up his left arm and points to it.
She rolls her eyes. "Already with the excuses."
"I'm just saying it'll take some time getting used to," he defends.
"Yeah, it's totally unfair that we'll both have the same number of regular limbs," she drawls drily.
He opens his mouth to retort, but the door opening silences him. Steve spots them immediately and Bucky knows it probably doesn't look good, the two of them reclining on the couch with beers in hand.
"Really?" Steve says, disappointment bleeding into his tone.
Nat just laughs, clearly unapologetic about the whole situation. "What? We finished our work and were just waiting for you to get back."
"Yeah, Nat was telling me some stories about the Avengers from back in the day."
"Oh, I'm sure she was," Steve says with a shake of his head as he walks toward the kitchen. They both hop up off the couch to follow close behind. "Just remember that I've got a few stories about both of you I could share."
Nat dismisses the threat with an arched eyebrow that Bucky can read easily as a 'go ahead, I dare you' invitation before she slips past Steve and begins digging through the bags he'd set down on the counter. "Oh, this chicken looks amazing," she says as she pulls it out of the bag and eyes it appraisingly.
Bucky laughs and she turns to face him with an accusing frown for an expression. Why Steve wasn't also laughing was beyond him - she was complimenting a chicken for god's sake.
"What? It's funny to hear someone say a chicken looks amazing," he explains before shrugging and finishing off his beer.
"Keep that up and the meal will just be for us," she warns playfully, gesturing between herself and Steve.
Bucky nods solemnly with his hands held up in innocence.
"Okay, Steve, can you get the sausage out of the casings and chop it up along with the chicken?"
"Sure," Steve says with a nod as he begins to pull out some cutting boards and a set of expensive looking knives from a drawer. It doesn't escape Bucky that his best friend seems to be very comfortable in her kitchen. He figures it's a safe bet that they've cooked together before and he makes a mental note to ask Steve about it later. And then he makes a second mental note to make sure to utilize their collective skill in the kitchen to his advantage more often.
Steve hands him a cutting board and slides a knife over to him that he picks up and admires. It's sharp, well cared for, and clearly of a high quality.
"Careful with that, James," she warns with a mischievous smile. "Little different than a throwing knife."
Steve looks up in confusion. "James? Since when is he James?"
"That's his name, isn't it?" Nat says, crossing her arms as she leans her hip against the counter beside Steve.
"Well, yeah, but only his ma calls him that."
Nat shrugs. "And now I do too. Honestly "Bucky" is just so...juvenile."
Bucky laughs. "I don't mind, Steve. We hashed it out when you were passed out drunk."
"What else did I miss that night?" he asks, his expression a mix of confusion and worry as his gaze begins shifting between his two friends.
Nat chuckles. "Oh, many things, but I think they'll stay between James and I," she says, practically purring. Bucky coughs to stifle his laughter because he knows she's winding up Steve. Despite how obvious she is, judging by how uncomfortable he looks, it's definitely working.
Steve's eyes widen and he quickly looks back down to the chicken on the cutting board in front of him. He starts cutting it up methodically, with a laser-eyed focus.
Nat looks over at Bucky and winks, and he coughs again to cover his laugh. "So, what am I doing with this?" he asks, brandishing the knife. "Besides being careful that is," he adds with a wink of his own.
"Veggies," she instructs, pushing them toward him. "We need the onions and peppers finely chopped."
"Yes, ma'am," he says dutifully and pulls the vegetables toward him.
They fall into silence, with only the sounds of the knives chopping filling the air. There's a slight ring of metal as Nat takes out a saucepan and another much larger pan that she puts aside, and then the sound of some liquid being poured as she fills the saucepan and sets it on the stove. They all stay quietly focused on their tasks, and Bucky finds himself revelling in this domestic scene, because it's not something he's seen anything like since he was a kid.
"More fine," Nat says softly, interrupting his reverie as she appears right beside him. Her kitchen is fairly large, but with the three of them it's a bit crowded, so she's close enough that their elbows are touching.
He looks down at the onions and peppers he's been cutting up and then back up at her. "Smaller?
"Like this," she says, reaching over to take the knife from him and then leaning over to begin to slice the onions more delicately. He watches her movements and he's struck for a moment by how graceful they are until he remembers she'd probably had a knife in her hand before a spoon or a fork. "Got it?" she asks.
"Yeah," he says softly with a nod, accepting the knife she's holding back out to him.
"Steve, you ready with that meat? I need to brown it," she says, giving Bucky's forearm a quick squeeze as she smiles and then turns back to the stove.
"Yeah, just finishing the sausage. Give me thirty seconds," he answers without turning around, completely oblivious to their actions.
"I'm holding you to that, old man," she teases.
"Always with the jokes, Romanoff. Tony's been a bad influence on you," he retorts, this time turning and pointing at her with his knife.
"Why do you assume he influenced me? Maybe it was the other way around."
Bucky figures she might have a point. She'd made a career out of manipulating marks after all. But then again, this was Stark they were talking about…
"And besides," she adds, "I like to think I was a bad influence on you too."
They'd finished their prep work and then he and Steve had mostly watched as Natasha brought it all together in a massive pan, throwing a myriad of spices and flavours on top of the rice, vegetables, and meat. The smell was intoxicating and when she pulled the fresh bread from the oven, Bucky realized exactly how hungry he actually was.
"Can you guys grab the plates?" she asks, pausing her stirring of the paella to point to a cupboard behind her.
"No problem," Bucky says with a nod. She'd done most of the heavy lifting in terms of the cooking and they'd barged in on her evening. Setting the table seemed like the least they could do.
"There's more beer in the fridge if you want. Otherwise there's some bottles of wine over there."
"What I'm getting from that is we don't even have to go out for drinks after dinner," Steve says.
Bucky stops his motion of putting down a plate to stare at his friend. He's absolutely gobsmacked by his boldness and his eyes slide over to Natasha to watch her response to Steve's cheekiness.
Nat turns and raises an eyebrow. "You're pushing your luck, Rogers," she warns, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth.
"Just like you taught me to," he counters, undeterred. Bucky can't help but smile, because he's clearly a long way from the scrawny, slightly bashful, innocent Steve he'd known growing up.
"I knew that would bite me in the ass one day," she remarks drily.
Bucky watches their back and forth exchange with an amused expression. It was clear the two of them had spent a lot of time together over the years, and that they'd grown incredibly close. He'd seen a glimpse of it when she let them go in Germany. She and Steve hadn't said much to each in that exchange, but the body language and facial expressions had said a hell of a lot more. He'd seen it again when she and Steve walked out of the jet in Wakanda before the battle - she'd been right at his side and it was clear they trusted each other implicitly. And of course he'd heard about it from Sam in the stories he told about their time together on the run.
"Quit being a punk and help me out, woulda ya?" Bucky says, cutting off whatever Steve's retort was going to be.
Steve laughs but acquiesces immediately and begins to grab cutlery.
"Good to see he listens to one of us at least," Nat says with a breathy laugh.
"I heard that, Romanoff," Steve warns playfully.
"You want another beer?" he offers, leaning up against the counter right beside her.
She turns her head and smiles gratefully. "Actually, I'd love a red wine."
"Any one I should look for in particular?" he asks. He tends to prefer beer or a good whiskey himself, but he knows enough about wine to know that some pair better with certain foods than others.
"Surprise me," she says with another smile.
"You got it, doll," he says, pushing off the counter and snagging a glass from the cupboard before heading over to the other side of the kitchen where he'd seen a few bottles. He eyes the labels for a moment before opting to go with a merlot.
"Corkscrew?" he asks as he glances back at her.
"Should be in the drawer," she answers without turning around.
He finds it in the drawer directly under where the wine bottles are, opens the selected bottle, and pours a little into the glass. He walks back over to her and offers her the glass.
She looks up and snorts in amusement at his action. She takes the glass, swirls around it a bit and then takes a sip. "Acceptable, monsieur" she quips with a nod, a smile threatening to spread as she hands him the glass back.
He grins widely and turns around to go and fill the glass.
"Since when are you a wine connoisseur, Buck?" Steve asks, having apparently watched the whole exchange.
"Hey, unlike some of us here who like to badger the chef, I'm cultured," he argues as he finishes filling her glass and walks back over to offer her the glass again.
"We're ready here," she announces before taking a drink from the glass and setting it down. "Can you bring the bread over, James?"
He nods, watching as she grabs the large pan's handles with gloved hands and then carries the whole thing over to the table and sets it down. He grabs the bread and then her glass, carrying them both over to the table.
"That smells amazing, Nat," Steve says, leaning in and sniffing appreciatively.
"Hopefully it tastes good," she quips as she sits down and leans back in her chair.
"Your wine, mademoiselle," Bucky says with a wink, putting the glass in front of her before setting down the bread.
She grins at him and takes another sip. "You chose well, James."
"It's your wine," he points out with a grin as he takes a seat across from her.
She laughs. "Fair point. But enough talk. Let's eat."
They'd spent an hour and a half leisurely eating, drinking, and chatting. Nat and Steve had kept up their friendly banter, and Bucky had heard more than a few stories about them both from over the years. She'd asked questions about them growing up, and Bucky had been keen to learn about Steve's first few years out of the ice.
By the time the pan was just about empty and the bread long since finished, all three of them were less than motivated to go out. Not to mention, they were all just a little bit relaxed thanks to the multiple glasses of wine, and many bottles of beer they'd gone through.
"So, to be honest-" Steve begins.
"I thought you were always honest," Nat interrupts with a cheeky grin.
He shoots her a look before continuing. "I ate too much and now I don't really want to move."
Nat chuckles. "You know, I remember a time when we would eat and everyone would feel that way except you. You'd just keep eating and the rest of us would hate you for it because we all felt a bit sick at the mere thought."
"Yeah, well, now I know why you guys always gave me dirty looks."
"We can stay here," Nat offers. "Watch a movie or something."
"Movie sounds good to me," Bucky offers.
"What'd'ya wanna watch?" Steve asks.
Bucky shrugs. "I don't really care."
"Nat?"
She shrugs. "Doesn't matter to me."
"So helpful," Steve grumbles.
"Just pick something, Rogers," Nat retorts. "I cooked and provided the venue."
"Alright, alright," he says as his brow scrunches in thought. "If we watch a spy thriller, are you two going to ruin the movie for me by critiquing it?"
Bucky and Nat both laugh. "I make no promises," Bucky answers. Sam had always gotten frustrated with him for pointing out inaccuracies, but Bucky had found it hilarious.
"Don't look at me. I can suspend judgment and be entertained," Nat says when both their gazes shift onto her.
"But you and Clint used to do that thing," Steve says.
Her brow arches. "Thing?"
"Yeah, on movie nights at the tower. You'd mutter to each other during the movie and I coulda sworn you were saying the names of countries and cities, but that didn't make much sense."
"It was cities and countries," she confirms with a fond smile. Bucky and Steve both frown and prompt her to explain. "We used to name off cities or countries of missions we'd had where whatever ridiculous maneuver the character in the movie did would've been helpful."
"Oh, we're definitely going to watch a spy thriller," Steve declares, "and we're gonna pause every time you think of a story, because we didn't get nearly enough stories about SHIELD Agents Barton and Romanoff from back in the day. And even now I barely know anything."
Nat chuckles. "If you really want, then sure. I've got a few I can share."
"Budapest?" Steve asks hopefully. Bucky's interest piques, because clearly there's some sort of significance to it but he can't recall ever hearing anything about it.
She's quiet for a beat longer than usual. "I think that one is gonna stay between me and Clint."
Steve's expression falls. "I'm never gonna know what happened there, am I?"
She smiles and Bucky thinks that it looks just a touch sad. "A girl needs to have her secrets," she quips to cover up the emotion.
The humour does its job and Steve's attention is drawn off her hesitation and into his own pouting that makes Bucky shake his head. "Go find the movie, you two. I'll clean up a bit here," Bucky offers.
Steve hops up immediately and begins walking to the other room, oblivious to Nat remaining in her seat.
"Let me give you a hand," she offers.
"My ma would sock me one if she knew I'd made you clean up after cooking for me."
Natasha smiles and Bucky is struck by how warm an expression it is. Even after all the years she had around her friends and family, it's clear that she's not totally used to nice things being done for her. He gets it because he's the same way.
"Can I at least sit here and finish my wine?" she asks drily.
Bucky rolls his eyes before grinning. "Only if you want. I'm sure the couch is more comfortable."
"True, but then I have to put up with pleasantly buzzed Steve. And you know how he gets."
Bucky laughs as he begins stacking the plates and collecting the cutlery from the table. "Yeah, that's a fair point."
They're both quiet for a few moments before she breaks the silence. "So, what'd you think of paella?" she asks as she pushes her chair back and kicks her feet up onto the corner of the table. "And be honest, I'll know if you're lying," she warns with a smile that's just a little bit intimidating, even to the former Winter Soldier. Sam and Steve hadn't been kidding when they said she was formidable.
"It was really good," he answers honestly. "Not really what I was expecting, but it was delicious."
"Good," Nat hums before taking another sip of wine. She eyes him lazily as he begins to load the dishes into the dishwasher, but he doesn't doubt she's clocking every minute facial expression she can see. Old habits, and all that. "You know, if you ever want to cook some more...we could do that."
He takes care to keep his movements continuous, but he's reeling a bit in shock. Natasha was Steve's friend. Sure, she was polite and probably understood him better than anyone else he knew, but surely she was just being nice… Right?
"Oh dear, I've spooked him," she drawls, and he looks up to find her expression is pure amusement.
"What?" he replies with a frown before his mind can connect the dots - he'd been quiet for a beat too long, which had tipped her off.
She chuckles. "I didn't mean anything by it, James. I just...I got the feeling from our last conversation that you hadn't ever been overly adventurous with food. And judging by how well received tonight's food was, I thought maybe you'd like to expand your repertoire a little. I happen to have a fairly wide-ranging recipe book."
"Oh, uh," he stammers, unsure as to why he was absolutely fumbling for words now suddenly, "yeah. I mean, if you don't mind."
"Well I did offer..." she replies with a tilt of her head and a smile that's completely disarming.
"Right. Of course," he says, cursing himself internally at the sheer stupidity of the response. "Yeah, I, uh, I'd like that."
"Don't worry, James," she soothes him, a touch of playfulness in her tone still. He's restarted his action of loading the dishes into the dishwasher, but he still watches as she finishes the rest of her wine and gets up to bring him the glass. "I don't bite," she teases with another of those smiles as she leans in close and hands him the glass.
Finally his brain kicks in and the corner of his mouth kicks up in a crooked grin as some of his swagger returns, allowing him to volley her flirty teasing right back. "Well that's a shame."
He sees her eyes widen briefly in surprise. She recovers quickly though. "Oh, you're much more fun to play with than Steve."
He grins, because two can play at that game. Yeah, he thinks, this is gonna be fun.
so...did I succeed? more happiness than angst, right?! :)
let me know. and of course let me know any other thoughts you might have, or suggestions. thanks to everyone who leaves their comments - this writer appreciates the love.
believe it or not, this whole chapter came from the idea of Clint and Nat muttering to each other during movies. I tried every which way I could think of to write from Tony's perspective about it, and then I tried Clint's, and Steve's, and Bruce's. somehow I ended up going with a mostly food-based chapter from the perspective of Bucky (ahem, James). go figure.