Bucky Barnes (![]() ![]() @ 2015-09-30 20:26:00 |
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Entry tags: | bucky barnes, natasha romanoff |
Who: Bucky (D8), Natasha (D7)
What: Strategy Sessions at Nebula.
Where: Capitol, Swanky club Nebula.
When: A day or two after the riots in 8, after texting.
Ratings/Warnings: Possibly intoxication, probably discussion of violence and really bad plans.
Bucky knew Natasha well enough to know he didn't really know her at all. She was careful and she was smart and there was a whole fucking forest behind her eyes that people didn't see because she was damn good at decorating the trees at the front of it. She was playing the game, and she was an expert. Better than Bucky had ever learned to be, once he'd started trying. Even with Scott's help, he still had to struggle sometimes. He managed, but he didn't have Natasha's adeptness with it,, Bucky didn't think he ever would.
He'd asked her for help because he didn't know what else to do, not because he expected her to do it (or thought she had real reason to). Scott would have helped if he could, but he was in the same boat as Bucky - they had too much to lose. It gave them a built in leash. All Victors had one just if they wanted to stay alive, but Cassie, Becca, Bucky's ma - they were easier targets to point to. Obvious soft spots someone could aim a sharp blade at and wait for you to do what they wanted you to do.
Natasha's soft spot was less obvious, but she had it. She'd even admitted it, which was more than Bucky would have expected. The fact that she had was surprising. After what they'd said, he'd half expected that she'd avoid talking to him for a while, outside of whatever Capitol affair they got thrown into together and played nice at next. He wouldn't have blamed her.
So when his sheepish mid-hangover text of brief apology was eventually answered with a meeting time and place, Bucky was startled. But he went. It would probably be good - give him a reason to be in the Capitol, other than the meeting with Steve he had planned, which was all over a bad idea but he was doing it anyway.
Nebula was soft and hazy. When you walked in, it smelled of citrus and felt cool and damp. It was the middle of the week, but it was still a hot spot by Capitol standards, so the place was crowded. But Victors always got in, and Bucky slipped in past the waiting lines, a server in an outfit that changed colors elaborately and still barely managed to cover up any skin showing him back to the VIP section, where Natasha waited.
They were in public, and Bucky knew the drill. He was dressed in the blacks and reds the Capitol liked him in best, sleeveless to show the arm and scars, eyes lined and hair artfully tousled. He threw her a smirk of a smile and a drawling hello of a greeting as he sank down opposite her.
It was all pointless. Fifteen minutes in here and his hair would be a puffball and his eyes look like someone punched him, just like everyone else in this place. But Bucky knew that you had to at least start out with the look they expected. He hated being here, knowing all the pictures of him out would be used in conversations about what happened in 8, and how much more it was going to make Becca hate him. But he didn't care. (He did, caring just didn't stop the things he had to do.) "What are we sitting in tonight, you think?" he asked her. He lifted his right wrist, sniffing at his skin with feigned speculation. "Something with gin? Maybe watermelon?"