Title: mission impossible
Prompt: Natasha/Bucky
A/N: Written for the CapSecretSanta, for nixiedeangel. Hope you like it!
Summary: It came out more of a statement than a question, a lack of control and precision that was shameful for Natasha. She'd blame his mouth for it.
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"You're doing a black mission." It came out more of a statement than a question, a lack of control and precision that was shameful for Natasha. For any spy of her calibre. Despite that, her words had its intended effect.
Bucky stilled, his mouth still on her neck. A shame, he had been doing a good job to this point. His hands were still heavy on her hips, his body pressing her against the cabinets. They really needed to make it to the bedroom instead of starting in whatever room they happened to be in. As it was, she had already lost three wine glasses from this.
She could feel his stare more than see it, the heavy set of his brow. When he said nothing, Natasha clarified. "I saw you at debriefing."
"Oh," he murmured, his breath hot on her skin. She repressed a shiver. His hands tightened on her waist, holding her in place on the counter top. He moved again, gently nipping her neck. "Then you already know the answer."
True. This line of questioning was an utter waste of time and if there was one thing you couldn't call Natasha, it was inefficient. "I just wanted to hear it aloud." She ran her fingers through his hair, shifting her head to give him better access.
Natasha could almost see the curl of his lip, a slight smirk that was more Russian than American. "Right."
She wasn't sure if she was mildly impressed or offended by how easily he shrugged off her lie. Maybe the Avengers were making her soft. Maybe Bucky was getting too close. Frowning, she got straight to the point. "Does Steve know?"
"No." With a sigh, Bucky gave her one last bite before pulling back till they were face to face. Brow raised, he asked, "Does he know about you?"
Well, he had always been smart. She should have known she couldn't keep it from him for long. Natasha shrugged. "Only the nice missions."
"Like there are any nice ones." Bucky rolled his eyes. She rather liked that wry humour of his. His hair was still mussed up, messily covering his eyes and he ran a hand through it, brushing it back. "He wouldn't understand."
"That's erroneous." Natasha shot him down immediately, looking up at the ceiling. "He'd understand."
At this, Bucky laughed, a bitter thing. Bitter and cold. It reminded her of the frigid winters in Russia, of dead twigs snapping under her feet, and perhaps that was why there were here, in her apartment. Why they were together at all. She didn't doubt that she reminded him of the same, of the monsters that lurked in his closet.
Whatever they had, it wasn't love. Which was a shame, she did enjoy his hands.
Bucky shrugged helplessly. "You're right. He'd understand too well."
At this, they shared a smile, a private joke. Steve Rogers would understand the need for their missions. He'd been in the war himself, seen how sometimes it was the secretive, dark actions that could change the tide to the war. He'd even offer to get his own hands dirty, to help the bear the burden.
It was something neither of them ever wanted to see.
"Just well enough," she murmured, remembering Steve's expression the first time he'd found out. He didn't break from finding out and perhaps that was worse, the idea that the pure hero could be corrupted. Could be stained. When she was younger, she loved to stare at pure white snow, just before people walked on it.
Bucky chuckled as he leaned in closer. "You always have to have the last word."
"Only because you're always wrong," she corrected, wrapping her legs around his waist. The edges of the counter cut into her thighs and next time she'd have him sit up here and see if he liked it any better. Maybe he did, she always suspected he had a masochistic side.
"Not always." His mouth was on hers once more, strong and forceful. He nibbled on her lip and she retaliated with her tongue. A fight for dominance, as it almost always ended up between them.
It wasn't quite love, this thing between them, but after all they'd seen, all they'd done, she didn't think either of them were really made for romance. It wasn't quite love but it was exactly what she needed. Breathing heavy, she pressed her forehead against his. "Bedroom."
"I thought you liked it here," Bucky panted, already leaning forward for more.
She covered his lips with a finger. "You can't afford to replace my glasses. Bedroom."