WHO: Bucky Barnes (616) & Natasha Romanova (616) WHAT: Sometimes you have to punch the one you love. WHEN: 1/21 WHERE: Alley RATING: PG-13 STATUS: Complete
This city looked like every American city she had been in. They were the same, shops everywhere. Capitalism had spilled over to other planets, it seemed, and Natasha was less than impressed by it. She had no connections, no orders, and she was beginning to get antsy for it. Instead, she went back to Leo Novokov's mission: make James "Bucky" Barnes life a living hell.
That was why she was following him, slipping in and out of the shadows to maintain some distance between her and her target. There was the knowledge that he knew she was there, watching him, but he could be very sloppy, especially where she was concerned. He was so very concerned. Every word he wrote told her a story, and she was enthusiastic about ripping that wound open as far as it would go just to see how much pain she could put him in.
When he turned down an alley, she followed. This time, she didn't bother to hide her presence. Her boots gave away everything: proximity, that she was in costume, and that she did not care what he knew. It gave her a distinct advantage. "{Hello, lover.}"
Bucky wasn’t a foolish man. He knew she would come for him, just as he knew he would always find her. It was better to make himself the prey. To wait for the arrival that would surely come. It meant she was the one expending the energy. Let her think him foolish and weak, it would make this somewhat easier. There was no mistaking the threat Natasha was to any living soul, but underneath all the lies and manipulation she was still his girl. He simply had to find her and he had become in tracking her down and pulling her out.
She had been following him as he expected, but when she started making noise he knew it was time. “Took you long enough. Stop for coffee? Need to pee? Always the worst part of a mission. There are never enough bathrooms.” He turned to face her, his expression one of easy humor despite everything bubbling underneath. How many times would they do this to her? How many times would he fail to stop it?
"Thought I would give you a false sense of security. That is how Americans enjoy living, is it not?" She was amused, despite that cocky expression on his face. It was everything that she despised about America and Americans: their arrogance and hypocrisy. "I'm going to enjoy wiping the smile off your face and then smearing it with your own blood."
As much as she enjoyed the banter portion of fights, she was also so very bored. The natives in this place were easy to rile up, which might have been fun if they ever gave you any information at all. She would have assumed they were very good at keeping their secrets, but the vacant look in their eyes explained that there just wasn't anything up there. This fight, however, would be fun. She may not kill him, just for the pleasure of getting to do it all over again.
Natasha strutted around him, walking in a wide circle, looking him up and down as she did so. "I'll even let you have the first blow."
“Now sweetie, if you wanted to try the kinky stuff all you had to do was ask.” Her threats didn’t bother him. He had seen her work countless times and knew her tricks. Unfortunately, she knew his as well. She would try to worm her way into his head, but he could play at that game. The more she taunted the more he smiled, his posture loose and open as if talking to an old friend. “You Russians make everything so serious. Smile more, your face looks so pinched when you scowl.”
“See, that right there is another problem with Russians. You give away everything. Me? I’m an old fashioned American gentleman. If the lady wants a fight, then I have to give her the first blow. It’s the least I can do before I knock some sense into you.” He wanted to tell her to remember him. He wanted his voice to be enough to knock her out of this spell. That wasn’t the way it worked though. To help her he would probably have to hurt her. It wasn’t pretty, but she was the only pretty thing in his life to begin with.
From what she understood, there had been plenty of kinky stuff in their shared history, and she was thankful that she didn't remember a single bit of it. Natasha tilted her head to feign studying him as she stopped. "You have been hit in the head far too many times, Barnes. I am no lady, and you? You are no gentleman. There is only one thing we have to say to each other and it's proshchay."
His voice was grating, as if it had been programmed to drive her insane. She spun around, lifting her arm until her elbow may connect with his chin.
“We Americans have pretty strong heads.” A point she seemed intent on disproving as her elbow threw his head back. He was quick to recover, already swinging his flesh arm to knock her back and buy him a few seconds to regain his focus. He’d use the metal, but that part of him that loved her wanted to give her more time to fight through this fog.
“I don’t know, that hit felt like all lady to me. You’ve gone soft. I remember you being better than that,” he taunted, legs bent and ready to strike.
"To be fair, you were never much of a man during our time. Someone had to pick up the slack. Perhaps I'm finally letting all my femininity out."
Natasha knew that this was his way of getting her angry. Get her angry, she might, perhaps, make a mistake and he could get the upper hand on her. How long had she been a spy? Known the depths which people would go to win that strategy? Natasha calculated in her head everything she'd need to do to use the brick wall beside her - to run up the side, push off, and kick the living hell out of Barnes's face.
“You’ll never get over that one time I wanted to be the little spoon. I suppose I deserve it, you can’t blame a man for wanting to feel you pressed against his back. You were pretty feminine then.”
It was a solid kick to his face, one he knew he would have to endure to get a solid twist on her leg to send her to the ground. All he needed was to get the serum into her system. It wouldn’t kill her, but it would knock her out. Unfortunately it required staying alive until it started working. “Now that just wasn’t nice.”
Natasha couldn't remember any of their time together. Leo had made sure she wouldn't have endure remembering how he would touch her or the things she used to have to tell him in the middle of the night when his nightmares got the best of him. The idea that she told him she loved him made her skin crawl.
There were some sacrifices that had to be made, and going down after that kick was one of them. She was satisfied with the crack she'd heard, even allowing herself to mentally smile, as she went down to the pavement. The heels of her palms took the brunt of the force, but her face still smacked into her knuckles. She could feel a trickle of blood on her lip. "No, you know wasn't nice?"
Natasha got to her feet, swiped at her mouth with the back of her hand. "Pretending that it felt good to have you inside me for all those years. Pretending like I cared."
His jaw was burning and he flexed it to see if it was broken. It was. He’d deal with it later. Sure, it hurt like hell, but it wouldn’t kill him. He had been meaning to go on a milkshake diet anyways. Bucky tried to ignore her taunts. He knew they would come and he knew they were lies. He knew, so if he used a bit more strength than necessary when he landed a solid punch to her side than it was merely a coincidence.
“{Poor, sweet, Natalia. You have no idea how beautiful you look when you smile in your sleep. It doesn’t happen often, but rubbing your back seems to help. Like a kitten purring. You’re a good spy, love, but you haven’t conquered sleep.}”
Brainwashing was a funny thing. You could open someone's head, poke around at the grey and pink matter until something new emerged. Or you could wind up making mistakes, and that was just what Rodchenko did when Novokov forced him to doctor up Natasha's head, set her back to her ballerina days. But there were moments, like the ones in the middle of the night that James - no Barnes - had mentioned. His hand on the small of her back, his lips just under her ear.
She'd been feeling off since Novokov tried to touch her a few days before she arrived in Colligo, but it was worse now. Faced with Barnes and his comments... Natasha's distraction let him get off a good punch on her. Through her stinging ribs, she landed a one-two punch to his chest. "It's impossible when sleeping next to you." She stepped through and under his arm, yanking the flesh one to flip him over her shoulder. "You make my skin crawl."
“{I make your skin hum, Natalia. I know how you dig your nails in my back every time I bite down on your shoulder. How you sigh when I blow on the mark. I know you, love. I know all the little things they can’t plant in that pretty little head of yours. All the things that are natural and raw, too real for a tidy little spy.}” It was hard to make a speech when the hard ground knocked the air out of you and sent you jaw ringing anew but he did, gritting his words through his teeth.
His legs kicked out, swiping hers with one long movement and sending her to the ground. He rolled on top of her, pinning her with his weight. “I know you, Natalia and you know me so remember.”
Natasha struggled against his grip, but the damned metal arm was impossible to get a grip on, and his weight on it actually hurt. There were scenarios going through her head, ways in which she could get out of this situation with the least amount of damage. None of them were good. Hospital trips weren't an option, not in a world where she had no contacts. There were no safe houses. No one who owed her anything. She knew this was a trap; she just thought it was his trap.
"I remember that you are a filthy traitor to our cause. I remember that you - " Something was wrong. Her head was swimming. She remembered this wave of nausea. The dart that got her in the neck. The way her body swayed and fumbled until it gave out and she could feel nothing. She remembered hands inside her gut, extracting her most precious secrets on a drive. She remembered trying not to scream on the operating table when they didn't know what drug she'd been given so they had to operate without an anesthetic. She remembered James having to be held back. She remembered his yelling. "I remember you - you - you poisoned me." There was hurt and betrayal in her angry tone. She could barely focus on his face through the haze of tears the drug induced. "You used my own... My own trick against me."
“I know I did, baby. I know I did,” his strained, his voice sounding more tired than he ever remembered. For as defeated as his voice was his arms were strong, holding her down as the toxin worked his magic. He never wanted to hurt her, but he had to get her under control so that they could begin to help her. He knew for all the reasons this was necessary he would never forgive himself for the look in her eyes right now. “You’re going to wake up. You’re going to remember. You’re going to remember us.”
It seemed to be grabbing hold of her now. Her movements not quite as focused as they were before. “Don’t fight it, Nat. Don’t fight it. It’s going to get better, you’ll see. I’m going to take care of you.” He didn’t ask for her forgiveness, she wouldn’t have given it. She had come here to fight and he had played dirty, but he’d do whatever it took to get her back.