Bucky made a face at her back. "Yeah. I didn't help anything, either," he said. "You did that." She'd cut in before it got really ugly. Bucky wasn't sure what would have happened, but sure as fuck wouldn't have been good, the way he'd been feeling and as little hold on his temper as Steve had when it came to shit like that.
He snorted. "You know what I meant. I wish none of us had to be the way we are. That we just got to be whoever we were when we're home all the time, if we can figure it out. But since we had to - I wanted to be good at it, way you are. That part, yeah I still do. I couldn't do what you do, couldn't handle it. But being able to run a crowd, the way you do, think on my feet, get them to do what you need them to do, much as we can - yeah. I still wish that part." They did what they needed to do, and they became what they needed to be to get it done. Bucky had always looked at Natasha - that he remembered - and seen someone who knew how to take the shitty role she'd been handed and use it the best way that was possible. Bucky mostly survived his own shitty role with attempts at using it now and then, when he could. When he had it together enough to.
He didn't want the circumstance, and he didn't envy her - but he admired how good she was at it, nonetheless, without any judgement. Bucky had always been able to see the merit in dirty work that got jobs done, even when he wished it didn't have to happen that way.
She plainly wanted to let it go though, so Bucky did. "Always," he admitted. Bucky didn't turn down coffee. He breathed in the smell of it. "Same brand I drink." Bucky drank it so dark it was almost sludge, according to some people, and it was the one thing he remembered the most clearly from the Arena, without the haze of unreality around it. He still had no fucking idea why Tony would send him coffee, of all fucking things. But he'd been grateful. Something that kept him awake and more than that, had been something he liked had been ... welcome. He'd never asked about it. If there was a political reason - like a coffeeshop sponsoring him - Bucky didn't want to know it. He just had tried every kind when he came out until he found one that tasted close, and stuck with that.
He turned to retrieve mugs, checking for which one looked the most worn - everyone always had a favorite coffee cup. Bucky figured whichever looked the most used would be Natasha's, so he could hand it to her. He got one that looked newer for himself and put them down on the counter next to her, looking at her profile, but not trying to really see her face. Bucky got the feeling she didn't want to be seen, and it was her house - she should get to not be looked at for once. Something was nagging at the back of his mind though, persistent and buzzing. He couldn't catch it, so he just turned back to work on the eggs, putting together omelets and toast. Not that fancy, but Bucky's eggs always came out pretty good.