It was kind of surreal, the things people took for granted. For Bucky, something he stopped taking for granted a long time ago was time. When he and Natasha first began their love affair, time had been exceedingly short. They had to take truly whatever time they could get together and it never, ever felt like enough. It had to be, given their situation, but Bucky never wanted to leave her. They were always hidden, locked behind doors or in the dark. Stolen moments they cherished with every beat of their hearts but knew would have to be given up for the sake of their lives and the hope they'd get another chance. They'd gone into their relationship knowing it likely would end in death and that still hadn't stopped them. Unfortunately what they ended up with had been so much worse. And they'd never gotten the chance to rekindle it, to have that conversation once Bucky had been cured in Wakanda. And if they ever went back, they never would be able to have that talk.
Here, now, they had time. Time that he was wanting to make the most of as much as possible. Bucky could tell her he loved her, he could be with her any time he wanted and no one was going to rip them apart and punish them severely in the aftermath. So yes, they did lie together out in the grass. They did walk into the house kissing without a care in the world. They left the door unlocked (had it even closed?). And god, yes, the lights were left on. The window had no covering and allowed the light of the moon to cascade in. They were free to be together in a way that prior to now had only been in the cloak of darkness and locked doors. They didn't have to stay quiet. They could express their love and their pleasure any way they wanted. It was so freeing and so special and Bucky felt unbelievably moved by it all.
The only thing that would've made it even more fulfilling would've been to have Clint there, but they'd get there. For now, he was relishing in lying next to her in his bed, heart still racing from the adrenaline of everything they'd just done so openly and earnestly.
"That goat wasn't one of mine," he said, and shook his head. He turned so he could trace his finger down the center of her chest and stomach, while pressing kisses to her temple, cheek, and jaw. It wouldn't shock him at all if the goat managed to get into the house and they found him on the sofa whenever they decided to leave the bedroom. It didn't like to sleep outside. Annoying little shit.
"Natalia," he said, a little softer, more heartfelt. "That was..." He actually felt his cheeks flush a little. "What we did, how we could just.. God, I'm fucking awful at talking but I think you know what I'm trying to say."