Who: Natasha Romanova and Bucky Barnes What: Being tested When: Near the beginning of June, not long after the genderswap plot Where: Natasha's place Rating/Warning: PG, non-graphic violence Status: Complete
Bucky was tired, heartsick, and in need of answers. And a little surprised at his own strength. He knocked on Natasha’s door not long after her post, jumping when his metal hand thudded with the strength of a battering ram. “Sorry?” he called, hoping Natasha was near the door.
She opened the door, giving him a look as she did so. “Easy on the door, you could have knocked it off the hinges.” She didn’t sound particularly put out, though. In fact she looked amused, though there was an undercurrent of tension in her expression.
“Sorry. Don’t know my own strength the last few days.” He’d woken up faster and stronger after the latest Dreams. “I think I may be as ready as I’ll ever be to get involved in the real work.” He came in as she invited him, closing the door behind him. “What’s been going on, Natalia?”
Nat wasn’t so sure. It wasn’t that she thought he wasn’t physically ready, but mentally was another matter altogether. She probably wasn’t alone in thinking that the last thing Bucky needed was to get his hands dirty for real. “We raided a terrorist facility in the mountains. Back when Steve was Stephanie.”
Logan and Steve being women was the highlight of last month.
Bucky did smile at that. “Yeah, heard about that. The being women thing. That’s a whole lot better than what I was dreaming about Steve.” He didn’t want to talk about that, at least not yet. “What did you find out there?”
"I took pictures, in case you didn't get a chance to see," Nat promised. "Logan was kind of hot, if you went for that sorta thing." She shrugged her shoulders and closed the door behind him. She checked the windows, then gestured for him to follow her into the living room.
Her expression had hardened by the time she sat down. "It was a terrible place. The things they did to that girl, and to others are enough to make even my stomach turn." There wasn't much difference between Cerberus and some of the group she'd fought against in her dreams. Or even the people she'd worked for. "I found a reference to my name, and yours. And a kill order for Jean."
If Bucky hadn’t been listening before, he was listening now. “Tell me everything.” He didn’t care if it got him on a watch list or a death mark or anything. This was too important.
Natasha studied him, then picked up a bottle and poured them some vodka. “I got too close to one of their projects. Several projects, in fact. The person they sent to deliver their message is someone that … well in a lot of ways she’d be a lot like you were in our dreams. Ironic.”
Her voice was dry, like she didn’t really appreciate the irony.
Bucky didn’t either. He bit his lip, sighing. “So they were hunting you.” And he’d attached himself to her, and Jean had been attached to him. He had to lock down his emotions before answering any further; getting upset wouldn’t help anything. “Are they still? And are they using this Winter Soldier type to do it?” This had just gotten even more personal.
“Oh, you’ve seen what they did when they got ahold of me during my vacation.” At least Jean hadn’t suffered. That was a small, but important miracle. “She’s the one that tried to get information out of Domino and myself. She’s not human, or she’s augmented. Probably the latter considering Cerberus has been going after dreamers for a long while now. They’re holding her child hostage, but some of the data we recovered makes me think there are more hardwired controls as well.”
Nat didn’t know if they could save her. Or even if they should. Maybe it made her a hypocrite, but she didn’t really care. The child, though, she’d happily help.
Bucky could sympathize, but only to a point. "So she's being blackmailed, basically?" It didn't excuse what she'd done, but it might help explain it. He sighed. "What can I do?"
“Have you been training.” She eyed Bucky’s physique. He’d be useless without training, even if her plan was to put him on a path intended to keep him from turning into the Winter Soldier.
“Of course.” He’d done basically nothing but. “What else do I have to do besides train, Natashen’ka?” He looked over at her. He didn’t like the idea of proving himself to her, but he knew why he had to. And she likely didn’t want to babysit him any more than he wanted to be babysat.
She eyed him, then knocked back her drink, and got to her feet. She was wearing yoga pants and a tank top, and moved like a tiger on the hunt. She pushed the table away from the couch with her foot. "Покажите мне." She crooked her finger at him.
He didn’t say or do anything smart-alecky. After this much training, he knew to look for weak points, though Natasha didn’t have many. Without a word he sprang forward, aiming for her gut, hoping to either wind her or just plain knock her off her feet. He was bigger than her, but he knew he wasn’t necessarily stronger.
Nat brought her arms down, trying to use her forearms to absorb as much of his energy as possible. It staggered her, sending her backpedaling. She turned the motion into a sweep with her feet as she tried to trip him up. She had a very concentrated expression on her face.
Some long-buried part of his subconsciousness sensed it coming. Bucky grunted at the force of her body against his, diving to one side to just miss her feet. He landed on his side, kicking upward with his feet as she edged near.
She twisted her body around, narrowly avoiding his foot. In the next motion she was kicking the table into Bucky, and using the distraction to leap into the air, aiming another kick at his face.
He avoided the table, but not her foot. She’d planned for what direction he’d dodge and aimed there. “Agh!” Bucky wound up on the floor, though he was quick enough to dart out of the way of what would have been the coup de grâce.
It was close though, and Nat’s knee hit the floor instead of his chest. She somersaulted backwards, landing on her feet like a cat and falling into a ready stance. “Almost good enough.” She kicked forward, rolling to the left and then feinting right.
He caught the feint, grabbing her foot and pushing her foot upward, figuring it would cause her either to stagger or to have to flip, which would give him time to regroup. “Чёрт,” he murmured under his breath, both pleased and slightly wary of what his body seemed suddenly able to do.
She flipped back, nearly toppling over her tv in the process, grabbing a dvd and flinging it at him like a ninja star. “I’m not even breaking a sweat, Bucky.”
He didn’t want to have her break a sweat. He’d wanted her to back off for a split second so he could regroup. When she did that, he simply reacted, sucker-punching her while she was temporarily distracted by scolding him.
Natasha doubled over, her feet slipping out from under her so that she fell flat on her face. She groaned, then started laughing. “Shit, I deserved that one.”
“In the dreams, I might have learned to fight dirty from the best.” Bucky wasn’t too worried; she was laughing, after all.
“Whoever might you be talking about?” Natasha said, feigning innocence as she pushed herself back to her feet. She looked at him, head tilted and eyebrows raised.
“That’s a dirty stereotype!” Nat pretended to look offended. “We are a very clean people. It is all that snow, you know. It keeps us pure.”
“Pure. Right. That’s absolutely the best word for some of the things we got up to in my dreams.” Bucky felt awkward when it slipped out, but at the same time, it was true. They’d been crazily, dangerously intimate in his dreams, and it hurt to remember Alexei. It still did, even now.
Natasha's expression hardened a bit, and she sighed. "Da." She stood there, awkward and feeling like. "Perhaps the wrong choice of words."
Bucky didn’t reply. It suddenly felt weird, and he was tired of weird. “So,” he said instead. “Do I pass muster so far? I haven’t suddenly developed a total inability to handle myself in a fight?”
“Da.” Natasha nodded her head, then rolled her shoulders. “You gave me a run for my money. I’m out of shape. I should work on that.”
“I’m glad I meet your approval.” That was just honest. No matter what weird relationship they had, he respected her as a fighter and a spy. “And I don’t know if you’re out of shape; you did just get worked over, didn’t you?” Even she might lose a step after something like that.
“It was just a light vacation,” She retorted, moving to push her table back into place. Things still felt suddenly awkward, but she wasn’t entirely sure it had been her misspeaking.
“You say light vacation, I say borderline torture session, Natashen’ka.” Bucky couldn’t help but be amused. He risked mentioning the dreams once more. “I don’t know what you’ve dreamt, but I can tell you that even in my dreams you would pretty much rather die than admit any kind of injury or weakness.”
She rolled her eyes, but from her expression and sly little smile, Nat was thinking that maybe Bucky was right, she just wasn’t going to admit. “I am never sick, James. I never even feel under the weather.”
“Of course you don’t,” Bucky readily agreed, amused. He wanted to say that she was still a person, not a robotic asset - but that was hitting a little too close to home.
Instead, he looked toward the door. “I should probably get going, and if you were to lie down and rest, it would be no concern of mine at all, of course.”
“I may have to relax with a good book,” Natasha allowed, resisting the urge to rub a sore spot on her back.
“Well, your secret is safe with me.” Bucky got up, smiling a little. “Thank you for keeping me informed. And for continuing to keep me informed.”
Natasha opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but then she closed it again and shrugged her shoulder. It wasn’t important (or it was too important to say), so she didn’t. “Stop by any time.”
“I will.” And he meant it. “But Natalia.” It was what he’d called her in the dreams, which maybe wasn’t fair, but still. “Please. Don’t shut me out of the loop.” He could guess why she’d tested him - but he’d proven up to the challenge. And he’d kill the bastards who got Jeannie if it was the last thing he’d ever do.
She searched his eyes. “I don’t want you to be the Winter Soldier. I want you to have a chance to not be…” She gestured at his arm. “Or to at least try. Vengeance isn’t going to bring her back. It’s just going to set you down a path you don’t want to go.”
He understood, and wasn’t angry, but he still couldn’t agree. “Vengeance might let me sleep at night, though.” He headed for the door before they could get into it any more - this wasn’t a conversation he could have right now.