"I assume you grew tired of the news?"
Shuri's approach was as silent as ever. Bucky didn't bother to move from his place on the balcony railing.
"I figured three hours of around the clock coverage was more than enough." He turned his head to face the princess. "Is the team still there?"
"They are filtering in and out," Shuri lowered herself down into a cross legged seated position at his side.
"Anything new?" he figured he may as well ask.
Shuri shrugged. "The Secretary of Defense in America is aghast. He's making many vaguely worded threats. The general consensus is still one of cautious optimism. The world eagerly awaits Mr. Tony Stark's opinion."
Bucky swallowed thickly. "Anything about me?"
"Oh yes," she still sounded unconcerned. "Much of it is speculation."
"The good kind?"
"Some of it," she met his eyes.
"And the rest of it?"
"Remains to be seen," she said simply.
"I guess I'll have to show them then," he exhaled.
"All in good time, my friend," she smiled a bit.
"I've got nothing but time," he said wryly. After decades in a freezer, waiting was not his favorite activity. He knew he should have been with Steve and Sam and the rest of the team, glued to the television, but Bucky still was not a man of this time. 24 hour coverage, hundreds of television channels, the internet—they were all well and good in moderation but he missed the simple pleasure of being unconnected.
"Well, would you like to waste some time with me?" Shuri's smile grew wider.
"What did you have in mind?" they had not spent any time together that was not related to his recovery or heroics.
"What did you used to do to take your mind off of things?" she asked.
It was not a question that Bucky had been expecting. "I don't know," he said.
"So 20-something year-old Bucky had no hobbies?" she teased.
"I had one," he smirked back at her.
"Which was?" she questioned.
"Girls," he said. To her credit, Shuri kept her face impassive.
"Ah," she intoned, "and what did you do with these girls?"
"I took them dancing," he told her.
"Dancing?" she laughed in surprise. "Is that a euphemism?"
"Not at all," he chuckled. "It was the 40s."
"So people were more chaste?" she asked incredulously.
"No," he admitted on a laugh. "But we were good at pretending."
She succumbed to peals of laughter. "Did you dance often?" she asked at last.
"I used to. I haven't danced in years," he admitted.
"Would you like to dance?" she unfolded her legs. "Just dance," she assured him, as he looked at her in shock.
"I thought I was supposed to ask you," he turned around on the balcony railing and lowered his feet to the ground.
"Well, I came here to cheer you up," she joined him on the balcony. "So you will have to excuse my forwardness."
"We need music," he opened the sliding door. "What do you like?" his knowledge of contemporary artists was shaky.
"I would like to hear what you like," she followed him into the room, her eyes on him as he fiddled with the computer. He knew enough about YouTube to be able to navigate his way to a song that had been popular before he fell from that train car in 1945.
"You have to start with a fast song," he told her. Duke Ellington's Take the A Train started playing. Bucky much preferred the sound of live music, but the internet would work in a pinch.
"Why a fast song?"
"So you can show off your moves," he reached for her hand. It had been decades since he danced, but he used to be good at it. Bucky hoped muscle memory would serve him well now. He spun her into his chest, then back out again, pleased that it came off in one fluid motion.
"Not bad," she complimented, easily keeping up as he led her into the Jitterbug.
"Not bad yourself," he chanced a glance at her feet. She was perfectly at ease with the jazz tune.
"There is a lot that goes into being a princess," she explained. "Dance classes are among them."
"What else?" he twirled her in time with the music.
"Elocution lessons, posture, poise," she listed, "martial arts," she smirked a bit.
"I kinda figured that one," he dipped her as the song came to an end. Another jazzy tune picked up a few seconds later, without him having to do anything. He made a mental note to ask Steve how that was possible later.
"T'Challa and I trained very hard as children. You know that we are the first ever duo Black Panthers?" she did nothing to disguise the pride in her voice.
"You're both very talented," he lifted her into a spin, feeling more confident with every bar of music.
"Some of it is genetics," her feet easily fell into step with his own as he set her down, "and some of it is the herb."
"Like a drug?"
"When you earn the title of protector, you are permitted to consume the herb of Bast. It is the plant of the gods. It makes you stronger, faster, better. They say you can talk to the Panther God."
"So can you talk to God?" he asked her.
"I believe that everyone can," she smiled. "My father though, he was quite devout in the old ways."
"And you?" Shuri so rarely spoke of herself. Bucky found himself captivated.
"I am stronger and faster, with better reflexes," she said simply.
"And your faith?" he asked quietly.
"My faith remains strong as ever Bucky. It is yours that concerns me."
"Mine?" he faltered a step, but Shuri did not call him on it.
"You have been worried as of late," she said calmly.
"Who wouldn't be?" her eyes were boring into him again.
"An excellent point," she admitted. "But you realize, things will of course work out for the best."
"I used to think that and then a few decades went by," He spun her again to avoid looking at her.
"You know," Shuri began gently, "I do not know why such bad things happen to such good people, but I do know one thing." She lifted his chin so that they were once again looking one another in the eye. "Things always work out in the end."
"You really think so?" he stopped dancing and stared at the woman in front of him.
"I do," she smiled. "That's what faith is. This will not work without it."
"But Klaue—" he began.
"There will always be a Klaue, or a HYDRA, or a threat. It is not the threat that matters. It is the fight." Her tone left little room for argument.
"You're asking me to choose to fight."
"You have already chosen. I am just reminding you of that fact." Shuri grabbed his hand tighter. "Right now, all I am asking you to do is dance."
The song in the background switched again, this time to a tune he recognized. It was much slower, the kind of song for when the night was wrapping up. He couldn't remember the title, but the rhythm came to him like second nature. He pulled her in, slowly, almost cautiously, acutely aware that he was dancing with royalty.
"So what was the plan for a slow song?" she asked him, her arms coming to rest over his shoulders.
"Normally, it was to get a kiss," he admitted.
"Did it work?" she seemed amused at his discomfort.
"Most of the time," he really didn't want to talk about past women with her.
"And now?" she asked, unashamedly.
Bucky felt himself go scarlet. "I—"
"I am just teasing you, Bucky," she laughed again. "You do not have to—"
This time he cut her off, namely by leaning forward to plant one on her lips. He meant for it to be a quick thing, something he could brush off easily as a joke. He did not expect her to kiss him back.
"Now your record remains untarnished," she told him as she pulled back.
"Very considerate of you," he didn't want her to know how much the kiss affected him. He hadn't had human contact like that in over 70 years. Just the taste of it had ignited a fire that he had long forgotten about. In that one moment, he hadn't been worried about Klaue or Stark or how the world saw him or what his presence might mean for his friends. He'd just been thinking about the woman in his arms, the pressure of her lips, her smell like sandalwood. It was over much too soon for his liking.
Her hands slid down from his shoulders and over his arms, following them to where his hands rested on her hips. She pulled them off, one at time, bringing them together in front of him. She squeezed, her eyes finding his again.
"I enjoyed the dancing," she smiled at him. "And the kissing."
His blush deepened. "You didn't have to let me do that."
She rolled her eyes, managing to make even her annoyance look regal. "Bucky, I would have liked to kiss you a quite some time ago. Unfortunately, there were other more pressing matters to address."
He tried to hide his grin. "I'm kind of complicated," he told her.
"The most interesting men always are," she assured him.
"So if we were to kiss in the future?"
"I think, perhaps we may want to hold off on anymore…dancing."
He nodded. He had no business kissing a princess anyway. It had been a foolish impulse. It wasn't as though the two of them could be seen together in public holding hands. His presence in her palace was enough to set off an international incident. A romance might mean a war.
"I get it," he forced a smile.
Her eyes did not move from his. She was searching his face for something, coming to some kind of conclusion. He tried to stand tall under her gaze. He wondered if he would ever grow used to her unflinching assessments of him.
Without warning, she leaned forward with lightning speed. Her lips were on his again, this time with urgency. He responded eagerly, pulling her back towards him, scarcely believing his luck. She kissed with all of the fervor with which she lived life—boldly and unapologetically. He prayed that his skills had not gone rusty from disuse. Her fingers threaded a path through his hair, her other hand clutching his metal arm as though she were trying to stay balanced. Bucky made a path up her back with his natural arm, savoring the feeling of her beneath his fingers. His knuckles brushed the edges of her braided hair, the thick texture tickling his skin. He was acutely aware of the feeling of it all.
She pulled back with a tiny gasp that made him want to kiss her all over again.
"We have a long way to go, I think," she said quietly, "before this will be easy. However, it is not a road I would mind walking down with you."
"We have some details we should probably iron out first,' he agreed.
"One or two," she joked. "It was lovely though, to escape with you for just a moment."
"We should probably get back," he said, reluctantly letting her go.
A knock on Bucky's door cut off Shuri's reply.
"Buck!" Steve shouted from the hallway, "Tony is about to issue a statement."
"Let us see what he has to say," Shuri was already moving towards the door. She opened it calmly.
"Hello Captain," she greeted evenly.
"Princess," Steve did not seem to notice anything amiss until he glanced up at his friend. He kept it together as Shuri started off towards the conference room.
"Is there something I should know?" he asked Bucky.
"Why do you ask?" Bucky began to follow her.
"You look…guilty. And you're blushing," Steve looked at him bemusedly.
"I'll tell you later," Bucky promised. His nerves were rushing back. "Let's see what Stark has to say."
"Right," Steve snapped back to business. They walked quietly down the hall together for a moment. "You gave me crap for kissing Sharon and you're putting the moves on a princess?" Steve could not resist the urge for a final dig.
Bucky shushed him, speeding up. "Guess we're even now."
"Not even close," Steve assured him. "But teasing can wait. At least until I tell Sam."
"Great," Bucky sighed. "Something to look forward to." He was glad for Steve's laughter though. It reminded him that no matter what Stark said, he had people in his corner.
Still, the sight of his adversary's groomed facial hair and tailored suit turned his stomach as the whole team watched the television. He took a deep breath as Stark opened his mouth, trying to ignore the fact that Natasha was watching him and not the television set.
He could get through this. He had to.
A/N: I do not own the song that I referenced by Duke Ellington. Also, thank you, as always to those of you who read, review, follow and favorite. Your support and feedback is much appreciated. Please continue to let me know what you think.