Bucky's been a popular request...and here we have a non-angsty chapter with him (no drunk Steve though 😜).
Bucky opens the door at the sound of a knock to find Nat leaning against the door frame, holding a coffee cup in each hand. "Hey," he says in greeting, flashing her a genuine smile. Quite unexpectedly, spending time with her had become one of his favourite parts of the afterlife.
"Hey yourself," she replies with a casual nod and a smile.
He pulls the door open wider and gestures for her to enter. "C'mon in."
Nat pushes off the door frame and then holds out one of the cups. "I brought you a new one to try," she explains as she brushes past him into his apartment.
"Thanks," he says as he closes the door, then turns around to follow her into the apartment. Carefully, he lifts the lid and peers in to scrutinize the contents. The colour is decidedly far from anything he'd expect for a coffee, and he frowns in worry. "Uh, is there any actual coffee in here?"
She glances over her shoulder and raises an eyebrow in a silent reply as though to say, "You're gonna doubt me?" in that slightly-disappointed-but-also-a-little-offended tone of hers.
Still, he can't help but press the issue as he takes another look into the cup, this time noting the amount of foam. "Really?" he says dubiously.
This time she verbalizes her response, looking back over her shoulder at him again. "What, you thought I'd bring you Starbucks?"
"Forgive me," he says while holding up a hand to stave off her taking any offence. "I forgot you were a coffee snob," he quips with a playfully pointed look.
Bucky had made that mistake once — and only once — when they'd first started getting to know one another. He'd offered to stop and grab a quick cup of coffee before they headed back to her place for another cooking lesson. She'd accepted but had been disappointed when he'd tried to lead them to a place he knew well that served good hot coffee. Well, good in my opinion anyway, he thinks wryly, remembering her expression.
"I know what I like, and I know what's good. Doesn't make me a snob," she refutes.
"Maybe a little snobby," he counters, holding up his hand and gesturing with his thumb and finger pinched close together.
"Says the man who would probably drink stale, black coffee from a gas station."
"See? Snobby. What've you got against non-European coffee?"
"That's such an American thing to say. I have nothing against good American coffee. I have everything against that swill people think is coffee."
"Didn't answer my question," he points out with a playfully smug grin.
"And you didn't listen to my answer," she counters.
"Aaaaaand another deflection," he accuses with a tilt of his head and a half-smirk. "Almost seems like you've got no real answer." She says nothing in reply but holds out her hand. "What?" he asks, brow furrowed slightly.
"Give me my coffee back. If you're going to insist that—"
"No. You gave it to me, no take-backs," Bucky says, pulling it close to his chest.
"Maybe if I wish it hard enough, it'll just disappear from your hands," Nat says hopefully.
"Interesting theory. Let's test it," he says, holding the coffee cup out to look down at it.
She huffs out a sharp exhale. "You don't get a coffee next time," she declares, expression almost shifting into a pout.
"But there'll still be a next time?" he quips and then shoots her a wide grin.
"Keep talking, and that'll change, Barnes."
"Truce?" he counters, holding out his hand.
"Fine," she agrees as she rolls her eyes and takes his hand to shake it. "But not another word on my coffee preferences," she warns, jabbing a finger at him.
"I can do that," he agrees with a nod and another widened grin.
Then her gaze shifts beyond him to the far wall. "Oh, you put up the art. I like it," she says brightly with an approving nod.
He turns around to follow her gaze to the wall with the framed art he'd finally gotten around to hanging up on the wall. She'd been with him when he first got them, happily guiding him through the shopping of things to fill the apartment. Bucky had never really been one for interior decorating — a bed, a couch, a kitchen, and a bathroom were really all he needed…and the first two were negotiable most of his life — so he'd been glad to have her with him to give advice and guide him. "Yeah, it turned out pretty well, I think. You were right about the frames."
"See? Not just a pretty face," Nat quips with a smile while gesturing to her face with her free hand.
"Uh-huh," he replies before taking a sip of the coffee she'd brought him. Damn, that's good, he thinks.
"Ha!" she says brightly, pointing an accusing finger at him. "You like it."
His mouth twists into a begrudging expression. "Yeah, it's alright," he admits.
"You'll learn to trust me eventually, James."
"Keep lordin' this stuff over my head, and maybe I won't."
Nat eyes him for a moment before she flashes Bucky one of those smiles — the ones he knows have rendered people putty in her hands countless times — and winking.
Not to be outdone, he tilts his head and sends her a disarming smile of his own. Back in the day, he'd left plenty of girls flummoxed by his charm and boyish good looks, and the smile had never failed. (Well, except with Peggy. But the whole soul mates with Steve thing made that one an unfair fight in his eyes.)
Bucky doesn't give her time to retaliate and instead says, "So, you still wanna see Brooklyn like it was back when I was a kid?"
"Well, I can't really turn down a tour from someone who was there, now can I?"
"No, not really," he agrees with a sly smile.
"And we're in a somewhat unique situation, what with our ability to have the world transform for us to be what it was then," she adds with a faux-thoughtful head tilt.
"Mm, that we do," he agrees again, this time with a nod, before taking another sip of the coffee.
"So, I guess Brooklyn while the earth was still cooling is our destination," she says cheekily.
He reaches over to flick her on the arm in retaliation. "Be nice."
"Yes, yes. I suppose I should respect my elders."
Bucky reaches over to flick her again, but she wriggles away. "Careful. Payback can be a real bitch," he warns playfully as he shoots her a wink.
"I've got favours built up, so I'm not worried."
"Oh, you do, huh? I don't remember agreeing that I owed you anything in return for the cooking lessons."
"It was implied," she replies with a casual, dismissive gesture of her hand.
"Uh-huh. Sure it was."
Nat rolls her eyes and gestures to the door. "Let's get going, James. If we take too long, the dinosaurs might not still be there," she says as she moves quickly to the door.
"Oh, that's how it's gonna be, huh?" he replies, following her swiftly.
She glances over her shoulder and grins widely, mirth dancing in her eyes.
They'd spent most of the day exploring the pre-war Brooklyn of his childhood, moving from spot to spot as Bucky explained the significance of each to her. She'd seemed to enjoy all of it, teasing him and asking questions about his life in equal measure. Eventually, they'd made their way to a trail running next to a river and had started leisurely walking.
"Hey, do you know if there's anything after this?" Bucky asks, waving a hand in a circular motion to gesture to their surroundings. He didn't want to upset his family by asking them — he could only imagine his mom's "But you just got here! Why do you wanna leave already?" — and hadn't really wanted to ask Steve for the same reason, so Nat seemed a natural choice to ask instead.
She turns her head and eyes him for a beat with an almost puzzled expression that quickly shifts to amusement. "So eager to get away from me, James?" she teases lightly, keeping the day's tone of easy banter. "I'm hurt," she adds before stopping and leaning onto a railing overlooking the river. Her gaze sweeps over the scene in front of them before she turns to look at him over her shoulder, offering a bright smile.
Always with the dramatics, huh, Nat? Bucky thinks while rolling his eyes. He mirrors her action and leans his forearms onto the railing beside her. "Not in a rush to go anywhere just yet," he assures her with a crooked grin. "Just wondering, is all."
"I don't know if there's anything after this," she admits, "but Phil and I think it's probably the case that whenever you've rested enough and are ready, you just…move on."
He nods because it seems as good an explanation as any and isn't far from what he'd imagined the case to be himself. He wonders if it's just a realization that everyone in the afterlife has.
Her voice brings him back out of his thoughts once more. "Tony was disappointed he didn't get to meet Freddie Mercury or Jon Bonham here. He thought maybe there was some "other" place that not everyone gets to access, or there's something after this that we don't know about."
Bucky shifts his weight from one foot to the other at the mention of more names he's unfamiliar with. "Never imagined there'd be a separate afterlife for the rich and famous," he says, making an educated guess and figuring they were probably celebrities.
Nat shakes her head. "I don't think there is. I figure the urge to harass famous people probably fades, like how this place makes you want to address your unresolved issues."
He doesn't necessarily disagree, but he's still curious to hear her reasoning. "What makes you say that?" he asks, turning his head to look at her. Her expression is thoughtful, but then he sees a sheepish grin spread and a hint of colour appearing on her cheeks.
"Well, I'm no Tony Stark, but I had a small fan base. I'd have thought there'd be at least one person who'd want to seek me out after my arrival here."
Bucky grins widely at her admission. "Aren't we feeling full of ourselves?" he teases, and she reaches over and shoves him playfully in response. "It's a fair point," he concedes with a nod. "Maybe that urge to meet the rich and famous does ebb away here."
"And yet Tony still wants to meet Einstein and Freddie Mercury," she points out.
Bucky frowns gently for a second, then tilts his head in a half shrug. "I don't know who Freddie Mercury is, but I get the feeling those two shouldn't be in the same sentence."
Nat's jaw drops in shock, and he knows he's about to be scolded for not knowing something. "You don't know who Freddie Mercury is?!" He shakes his head. "I'm gonna kill Sam when he gets here," she declares.
His frown deepens. "What? Why?"
"Because he was responsible for getting you caught up on important cultural things, and this is a massive failure on his part."
"Guess you'll just have to step up then," he says with a chuckle.
She shakes her head, mischief twinkling in her eyes. "I already helped Steve with this. It's his job as your best friend."
"Aw, c'mon," he said, leaning over and nudging her shoulder with his. "Help a guy out, Nat."
"You and Tony buried the hatchet, right? Maybe I'll let him catch you up. He is the pop culture expert, after all."
"We talked and came to a slightly peaceful resolution, but it's more of an 'I don't actively hate you anymore' situation. Besides, I get the feeling Stark would just overwhelm me with names. Probably on purpose."
"What makes you think I won't?"
"Well, 'cause you're a nice person who is taking pity on my lack of popular culture knowledge. And 'cause I know you're gonna help me out of the goodness of your heart."
"Lay it on a little thicker, would you?" she responds with a dramatic roll of her eyes and a shake of her head.
"Oh, I can do that if you want," he teases, leaning against her shoulder again. "You've taught me how to cook and are already helping me with the must-watch movies and series. What's one more thing on your list?"
"Why can't I just enjoy my afterlife in peace, hmm? Why must I spend all this time teaching you things?"
"Aw, c'mon now, Nat. You know you like spending time with me." He flashes his crooked grin at her again, and this time he sees a smile curl on her lips in response. Truth is, he really enjoys spending time with her and wouldn't mind another excuse to keep hanging out with her. She's a breath of fresh air — someone who understands the horrors of his past better than most but understands the need to move forward too. She's smart — smarter than him, that's for sure — funny, kind, and not to mention beautiful. What's not to like?
"I suppose someone should bring you up to speed," she concedes with a light sigh. "Music education is important too. Can't have you listening to—"
"I'm gonna stop you right there," he interrupts, holding up an accusing finger, "because it feels like you're going to slander the great music of—"
She swats his hand away. "I'm not slandering anything, James. I'm just saying that maybe you should listen to a few things from after the forties."
"I listen to Marvin Gaye," he defends, remembering Sam making him sit down and listen to one of his albums. It hadn't been as overwhelming as some of the other modern music he'd heard playing in shops and restaurants.
"Yeah, okay, points for that. But there's more out there that you should know about. Now c'mon, let's go," Nat says, looping her arm with his and tugging gently to get them walking again. "Bohemian Rhapsody is gonna blow your mind."
"I knew I'd wear you down eventually," he quips, smirking widely.
"Yeah, yeah. Be nice, or I'll subject you to disco music for a few hours."
"ABBA isn't so bad," he replies casually, very much enjoying the shock on her face at his words. "Some of it was catchy."
"Sam shows you Marvin Gaye and ABBA but not Queen?! Now I'm really gonna kill him."
"Sorry to tell ya, sweetheart, but by the time you see him, he's already gonna be dead," he says with a grin. She pulls her arm out from around his and shoves him with both hands, causing him to stumble for a few steps before he catches his balance. He meets her self-satisfied smirk with a slightly shocked expression, having been surprised by the strength she'd used, but recovers quickly. "Hey, don't be mad at me for the realities of our situation," he playfully chastises as he moves back to walking beside her again.
"You owe me churros," she huffs lightly, looping her arm around his when he offers it again. "If I have to put up with you and your goddamned sass, you're buying me churros."
He frowns. "What's a churro?"
"Oh my god. Now I've failed you," Nat moans as she presses her face into his shoulder.
Bucky just grins. He might never have caught up on popular culture while he'd been alive, but it was beginning to seem like a blessing in disguise because now he's got another excuse to spend time with Natasha.
shout out to a bunch of classic rock tunes for inspiring this, and another (upcoming) chapter for Conversational Junctures.
enjoy the teasing? enjoy the banter? enjoy the mental image of them walking along a river arguing about music?
let me know 😉
more to come...