The next morning, Steve was standing by the kitchen counter, looking at his watch. Bucky was running late, something that had never happened before. When he eventually stepped out of his room, he felt himself watched.

"What?' he asked suspiciously.

Steve shrugged. "Just waiting for you."

Bucky nodded without a single word and grabbed one of the toasts left for him on the plate which had now completely cooled down.

"So how was it, yesterday?" Steve asked.

Here came the suspicious look again.

"What about yesterday?" He answered casually.

Steve arched an eyebrow. "Your date. Remember?"

Bucky sped up the pace around the kitchen, slamming the cabinet doors shut, pulling drawers open and closed again in an attempt to make himself looking busy and, in the process, creating unecessary rush to justify why he couldn't fully be involved ino the conversation.

"Good," he said evasively then grinned.

"How did it go?" Steve went on, genuinely trying to start small talks.

Bucky laughed a fake laugh. He suddenly got very defensive. "What's with the sudden interrogation, this morning?"

That was hardly called an interrogation when you only ask two basic questions.

"I don't know. I'm just...asking. Usually you force me to listen to your morning debrief."

"My point, exactly," he retorted. "Why are you suddenly willing to hear it?"

Okay, now that was getting weird.

"Why are you suddenly unwilling to share?" he answered daringly with a similar tone.

A short silence followed during which Bucky nervously scratched his right temple.

"When are you finally going to give Tasha a spare key to the appartment? She can't keep breaking in everytime she feels like sleeping on the couch?"

Steve had a comeback ready but almost choked when hearing this unexpected revelation instead.

"Wait, what? Natasha slept here?" He instinctively threw a glimpse over at the couch behind him as he clearly racalled them saying goodbye the night before, watching her walk down the corridor then closing the door. He had a hard time picturing her snuggled in the couch all night.

Bucky shrugged casually, making no effort to appreciate the fact it was all breaking news for his best friend.

"Yeah, I found her sleeping there when I got home last night. Again."

Second bombshell.

"What do you mean again?" he asked, totally incredulous.

"She does it from time to time, actually. By the way, you should stop putting the chain lock. It makes it trickier for her. It means she has to slip in through one of the windows."

Steve was dumbfounded whilst he watched James coolly spread butter on his toast like he had just given him a summary of today's weather forecast.

"You say Natasha breaks in through the windows?"

Bucky pouted with extreme apathy when you consider what the topic of the conversation was.

"She slipped in through the window of my room the other night because you had unconcernedly locked all the windows in the living room. She called it a jerk move. And I gotta say I agreed." He licked the extra bit of butter on his thumb and put the knife into the sink.

Steve's mind was buzzing with a hundred questions (many of which being why Bucky seemed so nonchalant and detached about the situation and why he had waited so long before telling him) and he found it difficult to prioritize them -putting aside all the the how and other technicalities ones. Why did she sleep here? Did she do it often? How come he had never noticed? Why had she felt more comfortable letting Bucky know and not him? Did it mean she liked it here? When did she plan on telling him? Had she ever planned to? Why did she always disappear before dawn? When had it started? Would she stop now that he knew?

He suddenly felt uncomfortable thinking of all those nights he had been sleeping only a few feet away from her without ever knowing.

"Okay, let's go. Look who'srunning late, now," Bucky exclaimed.

The ride to the office was silent as Steve endeavored to answer all the questions listed above knowing too well he couldn't possibly expect Natasha to do it. Somewhere amid that tornado that was wrecking havoc in his head, part of him couldn't ignore the fact that Bucky had brought this up as an (oustanding and succesful) attempt to create a diversion. It made him even more determined to find out more about this secret date.

As soon as they reached the headquarters, Steve was eager to come across Natasha. They were greeted by all the agents as they made their way along the corridors whilst he yearningly waited to catch sight of the ony familiar face he wanted to see right now.

It wasn't until he sat at his desk, giving only half of his attention to the paperwork waiting for him that Natasha stepped into his office, coming straight to him about some formal administration procedure.

Standing across from him, he hurriedly signed the papers then slowed down as he thought of a good strategy to start the topic.

"How was the traffic last night after you left?" he asked naturally.

"Pretty smooth," she shrugged. Her outstanding level of calm would have almost made him question his own source.

He looked up at her. "I bet," he said, pouting. "Especially if you didn't make it as far as round the corner."

Natasha eyed him acutely, decyphering his true intentions straight into his eyes. Her pupils went still as she seemed to have cracked the code. She shook her head and smirked.

"Barnes told you," she stated without the hint of a doubt, rolling her eyes.

It made him frown, feeling irked. "Maybe I just figured out by my myself."

Natasha brushed off the possibility with a slight motion of the hand. "Please. If I wanted you to find out, you would have."

"So you didn't want me to know. Why not?"

"Because I knew you would make it bigger than it is."

He stood erect. Natasha mastered the art of dodging and he wasn't exactly keen to play along. "Then tell me what it really is."

She shrugged. "My neighbors next door have very loud sex and I need to catch up on sleep from time to time."

He knew exactly what she was trying to do: making it awkward by scorching his old-fashioned etiquette so he would abort the conversation on his own. "Natasha," he sighed.

"And you don't know everything," she went on. "It gets worse when you hear the sound of the leather whip flapping and the man roaring like a-"

"This isn't gonna work," he said.

She cocked an eyebrow and looked at him with an impressed expression. "It isn't? Then congratulations, you're officially a member of our depraved society."

He stood, impassible, watching her silenty, pressuring her to answer the question.

"So," she started hesitantly, a tad uneasy. "I guess it means I was right to think it would make you uncomfortable. Don't worry, it won't happen again."

She concealed her disappointment behind her usual smirk. It surprised him to see her so "affected", it annoyed him to realize he might have made her feel unwanted, and inside, he uncontrollably panicked at the idea this might make her take some distance, that he might lose her a little.

"No, no," he rushed to answer. "Nat," he called her quietly, prepping his knuckles on the desk and bending forward, closer towards her, thinking of nothig bu the fact he might have not handled the conversation the right way. "You're probably right. I probably made it bigger than it is. You are more than welcome to stay at the apartment. As often as you wish."

Natasha's smirk morphed into her second smirk, the one meant to tone down the fond contentment she seldom allowed to show. He nodded quietly and smiled back at her.

"Glad we could work it out," she purred nonchalantly.

When she stepped out of his office, he was struck with two realizations.

First, he hadn't gotten an answer to his essential question (and to any other question, for that matter) and he had fallen into her little act like a real amateur. She had played him like a child played with their toys, and he had watched her do it many times enough to know she had fooled him like any of the people she had ever fooled. She had handled him like a puppet and make him say the words she wanted to hear. And there was just no point into trying again as it was undeniable Natasha was the one with the upper hand in their relationship. She would always find a way out because it was in her nature to deflect things and because it was his instinct to keep her close.

Secondly, he had called her Nat. A nickname he had always reserved to one single person.

Until today.

The rest of the morning went on normally. And, as unexpected as it had been to hear himself use 'Nat' for someone other than Natalie, somehow it hadn't felt unnatural. And it was probably why it didn't really disturb him, past the initial feeling of guilt towards Natalie. It was evident he and Natasha had reached a point in their relationship when it was legitimate she could inherit this special nickname.

During briefing, Steve, skimming through the report given, watched as Maria Hill walked into the room, running a bit late, and froze for a second at the sight of one last remaining available seat next to Bucky. She silently made her way along the table and sat down. But then something happened that caught Steve's interest. Maria prepped her left elbow on to the table as a physical barrier preventing her from catching sight of Bucky who was sitting at her left; and James automatically responded to it by slightly pivoting his chair a few degrees away from her.

This could have been a meaningless detail if it weren't for the fact that this usual animosity between them somehow felt contrived here, and that, until now, Bucky had never responded to it. Her barby comments had always found nothing but playful smiles or teasing remarks from him in return. It was like her animosity unwillingly only fueled his good spirit. He always took great pleasure in not taking any offense from her. So why the change, now?

And as Steve watched them both as they tried their utter best to make eye contact with absolutely eveybody in the room (including Fury's leather eyepatch) but each other, he started to consider that perhaps, his best friend's date wouldn't be so hard to find after all.

When briefing ended, he rose to his feet and stood between agent Hill and Bucky, enjoying the advantage he had just gotten himself.

"Captain," she greeted him quickly, showing eagerness to step out of this triangle.

"How was your evening?" he asked, looking straight at her then watching surreptiously Bucky out of the corner of his eye.

Maria grinned and he watched out for any alarmed or unconscious glimpse into Bucky's direction. "Nothing special. Quite boring."

Steve smirked discreetly. The situation was getting funnier by the second, and even more with Maria's attempt to be casual. He glanced at Bucky's impassive expression suspecting he was probably silently taking the blow at this very second.

"Aah. Next time with the right company." Steve rubbed it in.

Maria nodded then excused herself saying she had some work to finish.

As they walked out of the room, it seemed Bucky had been struck by muteness.

"Hill is a great woman," Steve started, having far more fun than he should. It was his revenge for this morning. "She needs the right guy. Someone intelligent, witty, built to handle her strong personality. Ain't I right?"

He gazed at James deviously. It took Bucky a second too long before he started to nod.

"Right, how could you know what she wants?" Steve went on before he could speak. "She can't stand you."

He watched as his friend seemed to be literally boiling from the inside from not speaking up. It made him laugh.

"What's so funny?" Bucky asked with an underlying resentful tone.

"You. Trying to hide the fact you're dating agent Hill."

He waited for any physical reaction that would betray his best friend. Bucky's pupils quivered a little then his features unexpectedly relaxed.

"Is that what you think?" Bucky asked. "That I'm dating Maria Hill?"

His confident expression was quite impressive to watch.

'Why is everybody trying to fool me, today?' Steve thought.

"Don't deny there is something going on between you two."

"I'm not," Bucky said. "But it's not her I'm dating. It's her sister."

Consternation ensued, and not the one Steve had seen coming. His own. He had expected his friend to deny strongly or, on the opposite, to confirm boldly. But not this.

"Wait...what?"

Bucky nodded and lowered his voice.

"It was a coincidence. I met her one evening, and when we started to get serious and she introduced me to her sister, I found out it was Hill and well, she didn't take it very well."

Steve blinked. He reckoned this could explain the animosity that had been going between them.

"But why would she take it badly?" Steve asked. Bucky was a national hero; he was perfect boyfriend material.

"I don't know...I think it has to do with the fact she's seveteen. I'm not trying to understand Hill's logic."

"WHAT?" he exclaimed outrageously. Of all Bucky's shenanigans, this one had to be intolerable and unforgivable one.

Bucky stared at him impassively then a snort started to vibrate in the back of his throat before he burst out into laughters. He patted Steve's shoulder a couple of times.

"Oh man, that was too easy."

It didn't make Steve any less confused and he still couldn't figure out what was the joke part. Obviously, he wouldn't admit it aloud.

"Fair enough, you got us. I was with Maria last night."

Steve rolled his eyes.

"And you couldn't just admit it?"

"And let you think you won?" Bucky snorted. "You know I'm never going down without a fight."

He smiled smugly.

"Why didn't you just tell me?" Steve asked after rolling his eyes.

"I wanted to. But Maria is waiting for the right time."

"Why?" he furrowed his brows. "It's not like I would disapprove of you two being together."

And he meant it. That description of the right guy Maria needed, that was all he thought about Bucky.

"I think she's a little nervous. She has so much respect for you," Bucky paused and chuckled. "Probably much more than she has for me."

He smiled at him as he seemed to thoroughly understand why his girlfriend would admire his best friend more than him.

"Well, well, well," a voice muttered from behind. Natasha was walking up to them with the bait of a feline and her prey was Bucky. She slightly raised her chin up. "You threw me with nore morse under the bus faster than it takes to say the word 'hair gel'."

James gave his most unapolegetic grin.

"Traitor," she muttered.

"Squatter." The corner of his mouth was up.

It was hard to tell which one was enjoying this conversation more. It stimulated them both on a level only them could understand.

"All this to keep your little romance secret for two more minutes."

"Aha!" Bucky pointed at her. "I knew you told him! Steve wouldn't have noticed a thing otherwise."

Surprisingly, the comment titillated Steve only.

"Not me," Natasha shrugged. "You see, I am not a snitch."

She slurred the words slowly, aiming them right at him.

"Hey." Steve spoke out, feeling a little insulted. "I'm right here."

Natasha and Bucky didn't react, too busy gazing at each other with an unyielding daring look.

"And I didn't need anybody's help to figure it out," Steve added, feeling the urge to remind his audience and save his honor. "You're not that subtle, Buck."

Bucky's phone beeped in his hand. He cheked out the text and sighed.

"Gotta go finish a report," he said with a severe lack of enthusiasm.

"I'm coming with you. There's some paperwork I need you to sign," Natasha said smugly, content this conversatio wasn't quite over yet. She turned to Steve and smiled before following Bucky up the hallway. A triangle he was happy to step out of.

"So where are those papers you want me to sign?" Bucky asked as he glanced down at her empty hands.

"I dropped it on your desk last Thursday," she replied.

He snickered. "Clearly not or I woud have already signed them."

She put a hand on her hip. "Blue file reading IMPORTANT on it with a yellow post-it saying 'sign me please' with a cute, smiling emoji drawn by me."

He shook his head and shrugged.

Natasha walked up to him, standing less than a foot apart, gauging him with her puzzling, large green eyes, then she brushed past him to lean over towards his desk. She grasped something between her thumb and her forefinger and pulled it out of the messy pile of paperwork lying wildly on the table.

She stood straigh back up and held the file up to his face, detached the yellow post-it with the emoji and showed it to him with a smirk playing on her lips.

"I-I didn't have time to tidy up my desk last weekend," he justified then rolled his eyes when he got nothing but a dubitative look from his friend.

"Fine. I'm messy. Sue me," he grumbled then walked around his desk. He glanced at the papers spread over the table then back at her in a defying way.

"So you're not going to pretend to tidy up your desk even just a bit to prove me wrong?" she asked.

"Why bother? We both know it would only be an act."

She smiled. "James, your frankness knows no bounds."

The way she said it it was an earnest compliment. A trait from him she admired.

"Believe it or not, there is some logic in this chaos," he explained, pointing at the mess. "I organize myself in it."

She swayed the blue file in the air in response with a nonchalant expression. He smiled.

"This was just an exception. I was in a rush last weekend."

"Yeah, you had a date to plan."

A short silence ensued.

"How did you find out about me and Maria?" he asked her.

They looked at each other. "It's my job to see what is hidden."

Bucky nodded. He didn't expect any less from her.

"I'm sorry, by the way," he said. "For outing you earlier."

She gauged him shortly and rolled her eyes with an amused look. "No, you're not."

They both snorted at how acurate her statement was.

Bucky paused and his expression turned a bit more grave. "It was time. He deserved to know."

"Yeah, well, don't make it a habit."

"Why? You're hiding something else?"

Natasha smirked. "I'm always hiding something else. Call it second nature."

Bucky smiled back then reached over for the blue file. He signed it then handed in back to her. He chuckled slightly.

"You know, our conversation earlier? It felt like a déjà vu. I had a very similar one back in the 40s."

"With whom?" she asked.

His mouth twitched a little, his lips were tight, his look fleeting and slightly uneasy.

"Natalie," he answered evasively.

Natasha took the file and nodded. "Right," she said. "The mysterious Natalie whose existence shall be quietly acknowledged but never brought up aloud."

Bucky remained uncharacteristically quiet. She briefy bit her bottom lip, aware she was about to cross a line she had tacitly agreed to stay away from until now.

"How similar are we, exactly?" she asked coolly. She both dreaded and craved for this answer.

Bucky sighed, not exactly thrilled to be included in the matter. "Why don't you ask Steve? You know he will answer you honestly."

Yes, indeed -she knew.

"He has the answer but he's not ready to hear the question, yet." She spoke gravely then she modulated the tone of the conversation. "Come on, James." She purred, leaning in, brushing the edge of the desk with her fingertips. "We're close, remember? I even sleep in your pajamas. You can tell me."

She smirked playfully.

"I'd rather you don't bring that up in front of Maria. It sounds wrong."

She smirked harder.

"Very similar," he said.

She nodded bluntly. That, she already knew.

"As in sisters kind of similar?" she pressed him.

"No, as in beyond logic kind of similar. She looked just like you," he said. "A dazzling, flawless doppelganger."

The answer hit her stronger than she could have ever anticipated.

"Except she was blond," he added without much interest, fully aware it was an insignficant detail compared to the bomb he had just dropped.

Natasha furrowed her brows as she seemed to gauge the immense size of the hidden part of the iceberg (when she had only be given the visible tip to examine until today).

"Troubling, I know" Bucky commented with the voice of a man who knew far too well.

"Well, I didn't have any family in the U.S. in the 1940s," she said.

Bucky remained quiet. A type of silence that revealed he didn't completely believe -or at least agree with- the statement.

"Who was she?"

"Hard to say. She introduced herself as a journalist but it turned out to be a lie. And the place where she supposedly lived also turned out to be a lie. Who knows where was the truth in what she said?"

"You didn't trust her?" Natasha asked.

"Actually, Natalie was also my friend." He shook his head. "Someone who refreshingly didn't fit any mold of the society."

She watched as he let his mind wander out into old memories and it made her wonder if Steve was the only one who had to cope with her loss, after all. Bucky was more discreet about it, and probably out of respect for Steve's greater grief.

"What was her name?"

"Natalie Rushman."

Her mind stood erect at the familiarity of it for being one of her most common aliases.

"What?" Bucky's voice was inquisitive.

She shrugged. "Nothing. Just a detail."

A queer detail but that still remained random and plausible.

She had one last question to ask. A question she knew she had no right to have answered, but she had lost to curiosity a few minutes ago already.

"And who was she to him?" she said softly. "To Steve?"

Bucky watched her knowingly, his long pause betraying his answer.

"I think you figured it out long ago," he said.

And with this non answer, he confirmed everything she suspected and beyond.