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. (hourglasss) wrote in snapthread,
@ 2019-04-29 13:29:00

Entry tags:

bucky barnes (mcu), natasha romanoff (mcu)

Who: Natasha Romanoff and Bucky Barnes
What: I have an emotional bomb, you have an emotional bomb, everybody's got an emotional bomb!
When: A day or so after Natasha's arrival.
Where: A walk in the woods.
Rating: Moderate, maybe some swearing! Also BIG WARNINGS FOR ENDGAME SPOILERS.

I remember everything.

Of all the things that had happened in Natasha's life over the last forty-eight hours - and it had, admittedly, been a hell of a forty-eight hours. When all was said and done and she looked at the final tally, she figured it wouldn't even be a contest, it would end up being the absolute most eventful forty-eight hours of her life entire - this was the thing that had put her down hardest and quickest.

Everything-everything. I just never got to tell you before Thanos.

The idea of it floored her. James Barnes had been the first scar that that had ever been sliced into her heart, long before she'd been aware that a heart was anything she'd had in the first place. And it had always stung, in some small, quiet place, to know that Steve had stayed somewhere in his mind while she'd been blotted from it entirely. It was nobody's fault, of course, nothing deliberate; that was the way of these things. Natasha better than anyone else knew that was how it ended up sometimes. There were things nobody got a choice in. It wasn't as though she'd spent the rest of her life pining, agonizing, never moving past it, never loving anyone else again.

But she had carried it. She'd carried it for both of them, and even she wasn't immune to moments of wistfulness every now and then. The RMS What Might Have Been was a ship that Natasha tried not to sail too often on a lot of fronts, not just the James front. This, though, this was another thing that dying had thrown into perspective: what could have ever been gained by suffering nobly in silence? Why had she never brought it up? Never even hinted at it, or offered him the choice for her to tell him herself, long before Shuri had fixed what Hydra had done to his mind? It wasn't that anything would have had to have come of it, exactly, but with it all unspoken - how had her own private grief over so many things ever been of service to anyone, especially herself?

He was here now, though. And so was she. Five long years since last she'd seen him, and when she reached the wooded area he'd told her to come to - told her to hurry, even - there he was.

It had been emotional with Clint, with Tony, with Carol. So far the last forty-eight hours had been a nonstop rollercoaster of vodka and emotions, but if the alternative was death, she was taking it, and gladly. "You're very late, James Barnes," she said, and if her voice was aching, the smile that split her face was nothing but genuine. "What took you so long?"

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sgt_barnesjb
2019-05-04 04:55 am UTC (link)

They weren't yelling anymore and that was probably for the best, but that didn't mean the feelings had gone away. Bucky was upset for a number of reasons. Mainly, because Natasha had given her life for something she wasn't even sure would work, and because she just seemed so okay with it. The idea of coming back and not seeing her there really shook Bucky to his core. She should be there. She deserved to be there. Bucky was powerless to stop her from doing it, too. He supposed he ought to be focusing on right now. She was there, she was alive, and he'd been able to tell her the truth. With that all being the case, he ought to be grateful. And he was. He was immensely grateful. But he was still angry with her and he didn't know if that was ever going to go away.

He was pushing it down right now, beneath the surface, because she wasn't budging on her position and neither was he. Natasha was right; he and Steve were cut from the same cloth in a lot of ways. Stubbornness was a big one.

"Sounds to me like that guy must not have have known what he was doing," he said, knowing full well it had been him.

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hourglasss
2019-05-04 10:33 am UTC (link)

"He had his moments. I'd give him extra style points," she said. Maybe she was only doing the same thing she'd done to Tony, really; trying to deflect more than she should and deny him whatever he wanted to feel about it. She didn't want to do that. But still, she'd prefer to find a halfway point between James feeling as though he'd been understood and Natasha not snarling herself deeper into an argument that would always be unwinnable.

"I thought about this. A lot of times, over the years," she admitted. If it had been further away in the last five, it had never - left, entirely. When she was counting up the list of grievances in the wee hours, this one never fell from the list, not all the way. This moment here, and the fact that she had never hate it, that he'd slipped through her fingers the way half the world had. "I'm not - saying that to try and get out of trouble, or back on your good side. I'm saying it because it's true. I thought so many times about what I'd say if you ever..."

The biggest what if she'd ever tried to put to rest. Back in some other world, they had run out of chances.

Here, she could feel his hand under her heart. "That's a good feeling," she said. Soft. "James. I'm grateful, too. Can we let that be enough?"

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sgt_barnesjb
2019-05-04 12:22 pm UTC (link)

Could it be enough? Could he look at this as a gift? A chance to let themselves explore what had been there and what might still be? They weren't in dire circumstances here. They weren't going to be punished or killed for being human with each other now. They'd always had to treat each moment they shared as potentially their last and that wasn't fair. It wasn't fair for two people who'd loved as deeply as they did. She'd given him the gift of rediscovering his humanity and helped him feel things again. Ultimately that had been their downfall because he couldn't rein it in when faced with the thought she might be killed. But he hadn't been able to stop himself even knowing it might mean his death. So with that realization, maybe he understood why she did what she did. Maybe.

He hated it though, and he was still angry.

"You still think of me?" He asked, softer still. As mad as he was, he couldn't help but be curious. "Of what we could've been?" Bucky lifted a hand to cup her cheek. Looking down at her, he saw his Natalia and his heart both broke and felt full at the same time. This was why he'd kept his memories to himself. It was so much, so powerful. He wondered if it'd dulled for her since she had more time to let it go. But her words gave him hope, and hope was a little bit terrifying. "Lisichka, it's enough." Unable to help it, he leaned down and kissed her.

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hourglasss
2019-05-04 11:11 pm UTC (link)

"Of course I still think of you," she said, with a kind of indignation that came out in both her voice and the flush of color at her collarbone. Such an annoying tell and one that she'd never been able to eradicate; Natasha could keep the world's most neutrally stone-solid poker face, but when she was indignant, her skin would always flush with it just along her collarbone, though at least it would never spread too much higher. Another thing she used to be better at controlling but hadn't had a lot of call to hide over the last few years.

But surely he couldn't think he was the only one who wondered what they could have been. What it would have been like if they'd met in some easier world, or if he'd remembered sooner, or if she had ever given him an opening to tell her that he did, if if if if. So many things dulled around the edges, but love was never something that put up a fight about having the rust removed from it.

And then James Barnes was kissing her.

James Barnes was kissing her, even though she was so much older now than when they'd met and there were lines around her eyes that had never been there before. James Barnes was kissing her even though she had jumped from a cliff to save the only other person she'd loved with no intention of survival. James Barnes was kissing her even though the world had ended and she had watched it claim him as one of its casualties. James Barnes was kissing her even though he'd shot her through the gut and left her to bleed out in the dirt. James Barnes was kissing her even though she had seen him with the metal bite between his teeth and his tortured eyes fixed on hers as though he was trying to scream I won't forget, I will not, come find me even as though both knew it was useless, he would, he would, she wouldn't.

Her fingers twisted and curled in his shirt, gripping the fabric so hard that she was almost surprised that it didn't tear; as it was, it would be hopelessly loosened and wrinkled later. How could she have done anything but fall into it, let it be what it was, it was a kiss that she did not realize she had spent twenty years of her life waiting for him to come back and claim. Should she feel guilty? Did she feel guilty? Was it a dead woman's right to maybe be a little selfish about things like this?

She didn't know, but when she finally had to draw back from his mouth, her eyes were wet. Again. The overspill of emotion was going to get so old, and she stroked her hands against his chest, once. "I remember that," she told him. If not the first person she had ever kissed, he was the first person she had ever kissed because she had wanted to kiss him, but he knew that. The idea of kissing as its own pleasure, that had been something she'd learned from him.

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sgt_barnesjb
2019-05-06 07:50 pm UTC (link)

Bucky hadn't come to meet her with the intention to kiss her. There was a lot that they needed to discuss. His memories, what she knew of her present and his future, and anything else that came along with those memories of theirs. He hadn't gone to those woods with any sort of preconceived notions or expectations. He would've been lying if he said there weren't feelings in his heart on the matter, and now that they were bringing all of it up and he was finally able to actually feel those feelings rather than just remember them it was damn near impossible not to become overwhelmed and consumed by all of it. At first he'd thought maybe his feelings were as they were because they were still so fresh. But, the longer he stood there with her Bucky didn't think it would've mattered if it'd been ten days or ten years. He still would've felt as he did right now, in this moment, standing there with her.

Bucky knew one of two things would happen. Either she was going to kiss him back, which was what he'd hoped for, or she was going to shove him off and maybe punch him in the face or knee him where it counted. The way she was clutching at his shirt and responding to him had his hopes fulfilled, and the realization that he was kissing her outside in the middle of the day hit him hard. They weren't hiding. They weren't flaunting it by any means, but it was the first time they'd shared a kiss that didn't have impending, looming danger surrounding it.

And it felt amazing.

"Me too," he said softly. Unable to help it, he pulled her into another embrace. The desperation was still there; after learning her fate how could it not be? "I'm still pissed off," he added, but didn't let her go. He pressed a kiss to her hair, her temple. "Can't you tell?"

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hourglasss
2019-05-07 07:16 am UTC (link)

"Oh, that came shining through. Angriest kiss of my life," she assured him. Still just the right height for her to be able to tuck her face into the crook of his shoulder as he bent his to her hair. She remembered this, too, the ease in it, the way they were holding onto each other down to the placement of his arms, her hands: if she had closed her eyes and ignored the fact that they were in the sunlight, she would have thought she'd slipped sideways into some other time entirely. Woken up in the past, maybe, and she'd find it was only a few weeks before she'd lose him and it would set off the chain of events that would turn her into the person who could take the choice Clint offered when he brought her before SHIELD.

She breathed in, a shaking, shuddering breath, and mouthed along his shoulder for a moment, her hands tightening on him. More people had kissed her since she'd arrived here than had in the last several years of her life, which was - another sobering thought, a bit, on the back of wondering if there should be guilt and enough to pull her up even just a little, but really, how could she have predicted this as an additive into an already new situation?

At the moment, though, there was nothing to do but let it lie. It would be a dead woman's right to be selfish about it, for the both of them: this was theirs, this kiss in the sunlight and his face in her hair, and whatever came next, this was a moment they both deserved to breathe in, exactly as it was. Everything else could be what happened after: this would be this.

"Try not to be too pissed off at me," she murmured. "The smile's newer than the scowl. I'd like to have a little more experience with it."

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