Maybe he was blushing. He was. But he wasn't embarrassed about it or for her calling him out about it. Bucky was happy and this all meant so much. It was a little strange, actually, knowing that even though he was cherishing this moment he didn't have to think of it as his last -- both alive or with her. He didn't have to feel so desperate, so scared that he might not ever get the chance to lie beside her, hold her, kiss her, speak to her ever again. Those days were gone, at least as long as they were living in this town. He didn't want to think about the alternative so he chose not to. There was no imminent danger. He could relax, and so could she.
It felt good, just lying there and enjoying each other. He wanted more of that, and he got it when she repositioned herself to lie next to him with her head on his shoulder. Bucky shifted his arm to drape around her so his fingers could lightly brush against her arm in slow, gentle strokes.
"It is," he agreed. It was overwhelming but not in a bad way. It wasn't the kind of overwhelming that sent him reeling into hours and hours worth of agonizing guilt or shame. It was the kind of overwhelming that filled him with hope for the future (at least for the future in this town) and goddamn, if that wasn't the best feeling in the world. Having hope again, the idea that he could keep loving Natasha and exploring all these rising and growing feelings with Clint and he didn't have to feel anything but excited about all of it.
"And you know what? We can do it again. A lot. Anytime." He laughed softly. "We don't have to worry, Natalia. I can shout it from the rooftops that I'm in love with you." Not that he was a 'shouty' guy but in his prime he wasn't exactly as reserved and stoic as he was these days. Maybe there was still a little life left in the White Wolf after all. He smirked. "And yeah, I do blush. You have an effect on me."