Archive of Our Own

Out of all the things you could say about James Buchanan Barnes, these were the truest of them all: 

1. He was very unlucky. If you were the sort to believe that a man’s cards were dealt the moment he was born, then he had been given a particularly bad hand. 
2. He was tired.

He had spent the last 70 years of his life fighting, killing without reason or motive, more weapon than man. And now, after being partially responsible for the disassembling of the avengers, he found himself unable to return to the only place he had ever called home.

Despite it all, he couldn’t complain. Wakanda was a dream. Its awe inspiring scenery reminded him of the postcards that used to catch his eye on the way home from school. The Golden City, where he and Steve Rogers (and Steve’s friends) were staying at, had no equal. Sleek skyscrapers rose into the sky, and unlike most big cities he had spent time in, you could catch the pleasant smell of roses and carnations while you walked down its streets. There were far worse places to be.

Drops of sweat stood out on his forehead, trickling down his face and neck. His breathing was now sharp, heart pounding with each breath. Across from him was his friend Steve, who had reluctantly agreed to spar with him.

Could he still call him a friend? Bucky cared for him, no doubt. But when Steve looked at him, he pictured the happy, carefree boy he had grown up with. He couldn’t understand that in his place there was someone else entirely. And Bucky was still trying to find out who that person was.

The details of his long lost life were fuzzy and distant. He wondered about the old him, but all he remembered were the vague outlines. He still felt the emptiness in his head. Like entering a room, meaning to look for something, but then forgetting what it was you went there to find. 

Steve kept saying that Bucky just needed to rest, that he had enough fighting for a lifetime. And he had tried. He had tried to stay put and just go to therapy. And every week he showed up at Shuri’s lab, where she used some sort of magnetic stimulation device in an attempt to restore his memories. Still, he was restless. Too much time doing nothing led to thinking, and his thoughts never took him anywhere good.

So there he was, fighting his friend once again, this time without the intention of taking him out. He realized that Steve was more than a match for him, but he pulled back his punches nonetheless. Their almost deadly fight had left Bucky angry at himself, and he couldn’t bear the thought of hurting him again. 

Steve’s fist on his face brought him out of his thoughts. 

“Ow,” Bucky complained, bringing his hand to his cheek.

Steve rushed towards him, apologizing. “Sorry Buck, I thought you were going to dodge it”.

Bucky sighed. “I know,” he replied. “Got distracted.”

“Yeah, you seem really out of it. Maybe we should call it a day.”

He opened his mouth to complain, but stopped himself. His friend was right—he was out of it. As much as he wanted to use sparring as a distraction, his mind was elsewhere, full of too many questions and not enough answers.

Oh, and her.

Ever since the battle at the airport, he had been intrigued by Natasha. She’d been fighting on Stark’s side, but she wound up helping him and Steve escape. Sometimes he wondered why. 

Steve was constantly concerned about him. Asking questions anytime he caught a small shift in his mood, always worried about his feelings. Sharon tried to diffuse the tension, changing the topic to something lighter whenever Steve got too intense. Sam did his best to treat him like a normal person, often making fun of him and teasing him like an old friend would. 

Natasha, on the other hand, seemed completely unbothered by him. Neither hostile nor friendly, she seemed to ignore his existence altogether, except when they crossed paths by accident and she addressed him by his last name. 

Seeing her fight was an experience. Her agility and strength impressed him. The way she darted across the room was a beautiful thing to watch. He had been on the receiving end of her kicks already, but now that they were no longer mortal enemies, he would sometimes watch her spar with Sharon.

And there was that one time. He was walking down the hallway of the palace after meeting with Shuri. He happened to pass by a balcony when he saw her. She was looking outside at the view, alone, seemingly untroubled. Her red hair glowed in the sunlight, and he couldn’t help but watch for a few moments, mesmerized, before walking away.

He had plenty of questions about her. What was her story? Was it as winding and messy as his? What did she think of him? Did she think of him at all?

Sometimes he went days without seeing her, as she went on missions of her own. He knew this thanks to his habit of shamelessly eavesdropping on Steve and Sharon—they either assumed he was out of earshot or just didn’t care.

But out of all the things he had to pay mind to, a crush on a girl that didn’t care for him wasn’t high on the list, so that was something he kept to himself.

“Go dancing. You used to do that all the time.” Steve was pacing back and forth, visibly excited about the prospect of Bucky having homework to do. “Write it down,” he insisted.

Bucky wrote the words “go dancing” as the next item on what he had designated as The Winter Soldier Rehab To Do List.

Dr. Eke, his therapist, had ordered him to make a list of things he used to do before it all happened—before he even went to war—and then start doing them one at a time. He believed it would “help him feel like himself again”. Of course, Bucky couldn’t trust his memories just yet, so that’s how he ended up sitting in the living room of Steve’s apartment, hoping he would give him some ideas.

Not to say that he was putting a lot of faith in the exercise. He had been going to therapy for a month, but he felt no different than when he started. Bucky didn’t really blame the therapist—he knew he wasn’t doing his best to get better either. Deep down, he wanted it to work, he wanted to quiet his mind and find some peace, but he was worn out. Most days, he didn’t have the energy to try talking about his misery. The rest, he couldn’t find the words, or if he did, they seemed too dangerous to be spoken out loud.

Over in the corner of the room, Sharon was pretending to read a book. Being as nosy as him, Bucky knew she was actually listening in on them. Judging by her smile, it amused her the way Steve would struggle to hide his frustration as he tried to get Bucky to remember something they used to do together.

“We used to watch the sunset from Furman street in Brooklyn!” he said, slightly exasperated.

“We did?” 

Steve sighed. “You used to love it.”

He chuckled before scribbling down in his notebook. “I’ll take your word for it.” 

Bucky read over the list again 

• Go to the movies
• Go dancing 
• Watch the sunset(?)

He glanced in Sharon’s direction as he heard her flip her book closed. “Go on a date,” she said, raising her voice. “Make out with someone.”

“Sharon…” Steve said, his voice soft and slightly muffled.

"What?" Sharon said, looking at Steve. She raised from her seat, walking over to them. "You don’t expect me to believe you spent every waking moment of your life with Steve."

“Well…” 

As the ever present silent observer, he could tell Sharon and Steve were made for each other. Whether he liked it or not, Steve was often surrounded by people who would follow him without question. But Sharon kept him on his toes in a way that few others could. For this alone, she was one of Bucky's favorite people in his brand new life.

She snatched the notebook and pen from his hands. “That’s what you need to add to your list! Not all this boring stuff Steve’s making you do,” she said, scribbling something down. Steve looked mildly offended, but then his face split into a grin that looked more amused than anything else. Sharon gave Bucky his notebook back, and he glanced at the additions to his list:

• go on a date 
• make out with someone 

“This is stupid!” he blurted out as he sharply ripped the page out of the notebook. “This whole thing is stupid. I’m throwing this away.”

“NO!” Steve shouted. “C’mon Buck, give it a try,” he pleaded. “The doctor might be right, this could help you feel like your old self again”.

Bucky rolled his eyes and turned his face away. He didn’t even know if he wanted to feel like his old self, whatever that meant. It was unfair how he had to deal with both his own emotions and whatever expectations people had of him. 

“It could help you,” Steve repeated softly.

Bucky clenched the paper in his sweaty hand, before he shoved it into his pocket—he hated seeing his friend disappointed and hurt. “I’ll do my best,” he finally said.

Bucky was walking back to his apartment when he heard a faint meow. He stopped and listened carefully. With heightened senses, he followed the sound through the trees that surrounded the palace. A second meow followed, a little louder than the first. His ears located the source of the noise, and he walked toward it.

Inside a hollow trunk, he found her. A scrawny kitten, no more than 2 months old. She warily approached him on shaking legs. The white color of her fur was hidden beneath smudges of dirt, but her eyes were a clear blue. This might have been the most expressive cat he had ever seen. At first he could see fear in her eyes, but when he kneeled and reached out a hand, she leaned into it. He ran his rough fingers along her head while she purred.

When he got back up, she instantly started meowing again. 

“Don’t worry, I’m not leaving you here.” Bucky weighed his options for a second, but there weren’t many. He told himself that this tiny kitten couldn’t possibly survive alone in the streets, and before he had time to reconsider, he reached down to pick her up. 

Bucky opened the door to his apartment while carrying the kitten in his metal arm. She had spent the whole way home trying to grab his dog tags with her tiny paws, and every time she did, he let her play with them a little.

He walked in and rushed to the kitchen to figure out what to feed her. He had to go to the grocery store. Maybe the kitten could wait a little bit? Maybe. He just needed a second. Milk! Was there any milk? Yes, in the fridge. He poured a little bit of milk into a bowl and set it down on the floor for her.

The kitten started eating, getting some of the milk on her whiskers in her haste. She licked at the milk that had spilled on her whiskers and then froze as if trying to figure out what it was.

Bucky chuckled at that, before sitting down to think about what to do next. He needed to find someone to take care of her; he was in no position to take care of anyone, not even a cat. Tomorrow, he would ask around; maybe Sam could take care of her. Or Sharon. Anyone who wasn’t an assassin in rehab. 

But for now he needed to buy more food for her. She wasn’t going to be happy with just milk.

The cat was now on his couch, bathing herself with her tongue.

“Stay here,” he told her, as he headed out the door. “I’m gonna get you some food”. 

As Bucky put on his riding gloves, he wondered what else he would need to buy at the store. Maybe a cat toy? As he reached the store, he realized that thoughts of cat names had filled his head during his ride, instead of his usual worries about incomplete memories. 

Nothing could have prepared Bucky for how intimidating the pet food aisle at the grocery store was. Bucky stared at all the options: dry food, wet food, so many colors and varieties, and so many brands. He was frankly overwhelmed.

He was way in over his head. His heart pounded rapidly as his mind raced and a headache began to take over. He couldn’t believe that he had been so foolish to even consider that he was fit for this. He didn’t even know what kind of food the cat needed. 

He couldn’t keep her. What if he couldn’t take care of her? What if she died under his care? What if he became a killing machine again? What if he hurt her—

“James?”

He instantly recognized that voice. He turned and there she was—he had never seen her in joggers before. And she was holding a bag of… cat food?

“Hey. Nat- Natasha,” he said. “You have a cat?” It had to be the worst conversation opener in the world. 

“I do,” she answered. She watched him intently, and it dawned on him that it was the first time they had been this close without trying to kill each other. Her scent tickled his senses and coated him with a sense of familiarity. He felt as if he could have placed her anywhere in the world. “I hope you do too; otherwise, I have to ask why you’re staring at a shelf full of cat food with a distressed look on your face”

“Yeah, I found her… just today,” Bucky replied. “I don’t know if I’ll keep her though.”

Natasha raised her eyebrows at him. “Doesn’t look like it.”

He chuckled. “Well, I’m kind of lost here; any advice on what to get?”

It was strange, being around her, being steps from each other without any kicking or shooting involved. In his childish daydreams, he worried that if he ever had a chance to talk to her, it would be awkward. But he didn’t have much time to make a fool of himself—she didn’t waste any time on pleasantries and immediately lectured him on how to keep a cat alive.

A few minutes later he was holding a bag of cat food and a collection of toys that she assured him he would need if he wanted to prevent his new roommate from destroying what little possessions he had. 

“Thank you,” he said. “Alpine will be happy.” 

“Alpine?” Natasha said, looking amused.

He laughed and nodded. “Yeah, I thought of the name on the way here. It just seemed to fit her.”

“Oh,” she said. “You’re so keeping her”

“Do you want to meet her? Now, I mean.” His own boldness surprised him. Maybe this was his so called old self coming out. Bucky paused to give her a chance to respond. Her green eyes widened for a moment, as if stunned by the sudden proposition. He spoke hastily: “If you want, I mean. You don’t have to.” He hated that she had this effect on him. He still remembered little from his past life, but Steve had said he was a smooth talker. And here he was, a stuttering mess asking a girl if she wanted to meet his cat.

“Sure,” she said, surprising him. 

Part of him regretted it right then and there. His apartment was no place for guests. He hadn’t really attended to it since he moved in. He barely had any furniture, and what little he had, he had gotten at Steve’s insistence.

Outside of the store, the air was getting colder. The sounds of the city seemed more distant than when he’d arrived, the deserted streets a sign that it was getting late. 

Bucky pointed to his motorcycle. “Need a ride?“ He asked. 

“No,” she said, “got my own.” She pointed over her shoulder and his eyes glanced at the motorcycle a few feet from his. She smirked at him. “Wanna race?”

"With that old thing?" He said playfully.

Natasha rolled her eyes. “We’ll see about that,” she said as she walked over to her motorcycle and kicked it to life.

Bucky grinned. “You’re on.” He walked over to his motorcycle, climbed on and started it.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Ready.”

Natasha took off first. Bucky followed close behind. They rode down the long stretch of road, and neither one gave up any ground. She was fast. Bucky didn’t remember speeding that much in a while. 

She was skillful too, passing between cars like a graceful feline. Bucky was dazzled. He sped up to keep up and matched her move for move. For a moment he forgot where he was and why, and they were nothing more than two almost strangers riding alongside each other. 

He could hear her laugh each time she passed him, and it was delightful. After a while, he realized he was laughing too. This was the first time in years he had felt like this, as light as if he were flying through the sky. 

Bucky’s heartbeat quickened as he opened the door to his apartment, Natasha so close behind him that he could smell her faint perfume. As they walked in, he became hyper conscious of every detail. His living room looked way too empty. He didn’t have enough lighting. Or maybe he did. Was the temperature okay? He cursed himself silently for being so stupid to try as hard as he did to appear normal before her. She knew everything she needed to know about him—which probably meant she shouldn’t have come with him.

“There she is!” he heard her exclaim before he saw Alpine approaching them. Natasha picked her up and held her against her chest. Bucky stared at them. The Black Widow was cradling a kitten in his living room, an image he could not have pictured mere moments ago.

He started pouring food and water into the bowls he got for Alpine. Meanwhile, Natasha showed the kitten her toys, but Alpine was more interested in playing with a loose strand of her hair. When Bucky was done, Natasha put her down and she immediately started devouring the kibbles in her bowl.

Bucky suddenly felt guilty at the sight of Natasha occupied with Alpine. Her mere presence there was a token of trust that he didn’t deserve. Of course, he knew she was still armed, and she was still the Black Widow, but she wasn’t treating him like someone she was wary of. 

“I’m sorry,” he suddenly said.

“What do you—”

“For choking you. And-“ Bucky said with a gesture that vaguely referenced multiple wrongs, “all of it”.

She paused for a moment, then took a deep breath and replied, “Don’t sweat it. I’ve had worse.” She spoke of it as casually as if he had done nothing more than bump into her in the street by accident.

He watched her gaze wander around his apartment. On the kitchen counter he had left the page he ripped from his notebook, with his annoying To Do list. He started sweating, alarmed that she would read it. He wondered what excuse he could come up with to distract her from it, but it was too late; she had already taken it in her hands, and was now looking through it. 

“What’s this?” Natasha asked with a sly smile.

”It’s nothing,” he said, trying to snatch it out of her hands. She took a step back and kept reading.

”Go on a date, huh?” She smirked, enjoying his embarrassment way too much.

“It’s just stuff my therapist says I should do,” Bucky said. “To help me feel more like my old self,” he added, the last two words adorned by air quotes.

“Make out with someone?” She raised her eyebrows.

“That was Sharon’s idea.”

“Not a bad one. Did she offer?”

“I- God no.”

She was laughing. What a strange night. Her eyes were shining and her cheeks were a faint shade of pink, and she seemed so at ease with him. At least way more at ease than he was with her. It made him want to know everything about her. 

“Have you started doing these yet?” Natasha’s voice was softer now. She sounded genuinely interested, concerned even.

“No... I just- I made that list just a few hours ago actually,” Bucky said. “But to be honest, I don’t even know where to start, or if it even makes sense to try at all.”

“I have an idea for the first one,” she said. “If you’re interested.” He looked at her, questioning. “Movies,” she said, clarifying. “I know one I think you’ll like,” she continued. “Maybe it’s easier if you have someone with you.”

There were a few ways he’d expected this to go. She would mock him, or tell him it was stupid or that he needed to find a new therapist. He definitely didn’t expect an offer for help or an invitation to the theater.

“You don’t have to—” 

“I know,” she interjected.  “But what if I want to?”

“But… why?” He asked. They were strangers, and they’d never been particularly friendly until moments ago.

“I just- you have been through a lot. And you could use some help.” He didn't buy it. Not entirely. But part of him was yearning to be near her. Natasha had some kind of pull on him that he couldn’t understand. “Are you free tomorrow night?” She continued. 

“I’m free every single night.”

Natasha laid stretched out on her bed, wrapped in a towel, staring at the ceiling. It had been at least half an hour since she’d finished showering, but she hadn’t moved since then.

“It’s just a movie,” she told herself once again.

She should have just let him be. James was recovering, he barely remembered who he was. He didn’t need her to make his life even more complicated. She could have ignored him at the store, or just helped him get his cat food and left. But no, she had to follow him to his apartment. She had to offer to help him with his little list. 

It was her greatest weakness, how she couldn’t help but be drawn to him. She had fallen in love with him years ago when she knew that she shouldn’t have, abandoning all common sense for a soldier without a name. And after all those years, miles away from where they had first met, he still had an almost magical effect on her. She couldn’t explain it. In a different world, it would have made her believe in soulmates. But she knew better. This couldn’t be more than a cruel joke the universe was playing on them. Fate had already had its fun. It had taken everything. And it would lie in wait for the moment to snatch their happiness from her once again. 

She resolved that she wouldn’t spend more time overthinking. There was nothing to worry about. A couple hours wouldn’t kill her. It was just a movie, after all. She quickly got ready and left. 

The two of them ended up picking an action movie that promised to be terrible, and it didn’t disappoint. There were more than enough implausible fighting scenes to make fun of, and the protagonists made endless stupid decisions they could laugh at while trying to predict how it would all end.

“His brother will end up being the bad guy,” James whispered in her ear. Every time he leaned in to make a passing comment, his voice tickled her skin. It made her painfully aware of their proximity, sending shivers down her spine. 

“Nah.”

“No?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s his wife that’s behind it all,” Natasha said, whispering back.

“That’s so predictable,” he said.

"Half of these movies are predictable," she said. "You can always guess the ending after watching a few."

“That’s no fun,” he complained. 

“I like it,” she said earnestly. She glanced at him for a few moments, then turned her eyes back to the screen. “I can watch the same movie ten times so don’t mind me,” she said. “It’s nice to have something predictable when your life is this chaotic.”

Natasha was a closed book—a mystery to everyone. Her life was one of wearing masks, only letting people see exactly what she wanted them to see. It was something she and James had in common, at least when they were at the top of their game. She wasn’t prone to oversharing, but with him, she never felt like hiding who she really was. 

“Well, that I understand,” he said. She could see him watch her out of the corner of her eye, and turned to meet his gaze.

It was somewhat unsettling still, the sight of him. It was like looking at a ghost or a mirage, something that could disappear the moment you looked away.

A few years earlier, she’d made it her part-time mission to find the Winter Soldier, once she learned he was still alive. He was an elusive subject, but Natasha was not one to give up, even when she ran out of so called valid reasons.

He ended up finding her. It was just an unlucky coincidence, that day in Odessa. But of course, he didn’t know who she was. There wasn’t the slightest hint of recognition in his eyes. He shot her; she had the scar to show for it—a daily reminder that she was a stranger to the man that once knew her better than anyone else in the world.

And now he was sitting next to her. He eyed her, as if trying to read the emotion behind her eyes. She could tell that despite not remembering her, he was attracted to her—she had caught him staring a few times. She could have kissed him right there, and he would have reciprocated. The theater was almost empty, nothing was stopping her. And she wanted to. Too many times since their encounter at the store, she had wanted nothing more than to clean the smirk off his face with her lips.

She looked away. She could wait. Shuri was helping him get his memories back, anyway. Maybe one of these days he would remember their time together. And maybe he would still want her, despite her being a memento of a time he most likely wanted to forget.

“They’re going to kick us out if we don’t shut up.” Natasha said to dissolve the rising tension between them.

“That’d be a shame,” James replied in a quieter voice. “To never know how this masterpiece ends.” 

His mood was light and relaxed, far from the cautious, nervous demeanor he’d had when she ran into him at the store. He was more talkative than usual too, not that the bar was high. In all the time she had been around him since the fight at the bridge, he never said more than he needed to. But then again, it hadn’t been just the two of them since sixty years ago. 

“Just shut up and shoot him,” James said to the man on screen, who was giving a long speech while pointing his gun at another guy.

Natasha chuckled. God, how easy would it be to get used to this? It hit her that it was the first time she had really been out with him, just doing something fun, without having to sneak around. In different circumstances she would have called this their first date.

But then it was over, perhaps too soon, and they stood in the theater lobby.

“This was nice.” James said. 

“It was.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said. “I mean, come here with me.” 

“It’s okay,” Natasha said. “I needed a distraction anyway. Now you can cross it off your list”. It wasn’t a good idea to let him know that this had been the best evening she’d had since they’d arrived in Wakanda.

“Thank you, really,” he said, and the edge of his eyes crinkled as he smiled.

Bucky lied in bed staring at the ceiling, smiling to himself, replaying the events of the night. It surprised him, how easy it had all been, considering his previous interactions with Natasha. If he were anyone other than a hundred year old assassin in recovery, he would be making plans to ask her out. That’s definitely what his younger self would have done. But his younger self hadn’t tried to kill her, nor did he wake up startled every day in the middle of the night.

After a while, he fell asleep, and for the first time, he saw her in his dreams. 

They were dancing. She was wearing a nightgown and no shoes. The music was slow, the lights were dim and they were the only two people in the room. They were swaying together, no space between them, his hands on her back, her hands on his shoulders.

A sort of necklace hung loosely around her neck. But instead of a pendant, it had a flat, small piece of metal that reminded him of his dog tags. It had a similar dark, muddy color, but this one was smaller and had smoother corners.

He smiled down at her, and she smiled back.

Suddenly, he was somewhere else entirely. He was lying  on a cold metal bed, strapped down, unable to move. His labored breathing echoed off cold, charred walls. His heart hammered in his chest as a man with a needle approached him. He opened his mouth to scream, but the man plunged the needle deep into his neck and everything went dark.

He woke up, his heart racing, sweating, shirt sticking to his skin. He put his hand over his heart, hoping to slow it down. Nightmares were nothing new—he still had them every night—, but Natasha was never in them. 

He lied in bed for a while, trying to get back to sleep, miserably failing. Rolling onto his side, he looked at the clock: 4:00 AM. He decided there was no use in trying any longer, so he got out of bed.

The sun was just coming up when his phone chimed. He reached into his pocket, wondering who could be texting that early. It was Natasha. 

N: How does a round of sparing sound like?

She was still typing. He impatiently stared at his phone, until a new text bubble appeared:

N: With me. Today.

He hadn’t sparred with anyone other than Steve since he had come to Wakanda. It was definitely not on the list of recommendations from his therapist. But he would be lying if he said he wasn’t interested.

He thought for a second and typed his reply. 

B: I don’t know

B: I’m scared of hurting you.

N: That’s  cute 

N: You couldn’t kill me even when you tried.

He chuckled, but felt a pang of guilt at the same time. He had tried to kill her, after all. Perhaps this was her way of getting back at him. Maybe she planned to swipe the floor with him today. 

His phone chimed again.

N: You can’t possibly be happy spending all that time without throwing a few punches

Okay, then. This was happening.

She was waiting for him at the gym, which had the dented and scarred surfaces of an old warehouse. He had never been to that part of the city. The streets were lined with narrow, old houses. The sidewalks were full of people, the air filled with the aroma of cooking meat and fresh fruit.

Sunlight filtered through the window as they danced around each other. At the beginning, the fight was stressful. He was hesitant in his movements as he went through the motions to strike at her, still afraid that he would end up hurting her. But it didn’t take long for him to notice that she adapted to his strikes, quickly catching on to his fighting style. Soon, they were almost in perfect sync with each other, as if this kind of sparring between them was a normal Wednesday morning occurrence. 

Time moved quickly for them, and before they realized it, it was almost noon. 

Bucky often felt like a walking spectacle whenever he was out with his metal arm in full display. The sensation was heightened there in Wakanda, where he would have stood out even without it. It was understandable, as he was a foreigner who wasn't supposed to be there. But he was glad no one seemed to be paying attention to him while they sat at the coffee shop across from the gym.

“See?” Natasha said, pleased with herself, “it wasn’t so bad.” Bucky was distracted, his mind still on the sparring session that had just ended.

She had maneuvered him into a headlock. He tried to break free, but she flipped out of it, ending up on top of him. She pinned him down, and for a brief moment, he got lost in the small twitches of her pupils and the beads of sweat forming on her forehead. He could feel the heat coming off of her skin, the kind of heat that almost made him forget what they were doing. It was embarrassing. The two of them were sparring, for God’s sake. As if sensing his thoughts, she rolled over, letting him up.

“Yeah I guess it wasn't,” he said, eyes now focused on her. She wrapped her lips around the straw and took a slow sip from the cup in her hand. Bucky felt the tiniest curve form in his lips. It was ridiculous how just the sight of her doing the most mundane things made him want to smile. 

“How do you like it here?” She asked 

“In Wakanda?” Bucky asked. Natasha nodded. “It’s so different from home. It feels strange to be here still,” he started. “Not that I’ve known what home feels like in a long time, anyway.”

She frowned. “I hope you get to go back and find out.”

“Honestly? I don’t know if it would feel all that different. He paused for a moment and looked up, trying to find the right words to describe the turmoil inside his brain, then shrugged his shoulders slightly. “I guess I don’t know what to do with all this freedom,” he said, gesturing quotation marks into the air. “For the first time in a while my whole life purpose isn’t to hunt someone down and kill them,” he added.

Natasha had leaned forward and was listening closely. “Do you feel free?” She asked.

Bucky chuckled. “I don’t know,” he said, shifting in his seat. “I mean, I'm happy not to be brainwashed anymore, obviously.”

“Obviously.”

“And I know people just want to help but… I feel like everyone wants me to be someone that is long gone.” He said, breaking her gaze.

“You don’t know if you can be that guy anymore,” she said.

“Honestly, I don’t really think I can,” Bucky said.

“You don’t have to, you know? You don’t have to be him,” Natasha said. “You don’t even have to follow that damn list. You’re free to be whoever you want to be.” Her eyes were soft and gentle as she looked at him like she understood every inch of his pain. From the handful of stories he had heard about her, Natasha was closed off and kept most people at distance. He wondered if he was seeing a side of her that the others hadn't.

He hummed skeptically. “I guess It’s hard to feel free when you have done so many terrible things,” Bucky said, diverting his gaze to the couple at the table behind Natasha. The man pulled the woman close against his side, and she whispered something in his ear while he put his hand on her thigh. They looked minutes away from full blown PDA. “I’ve hurt so many people,” he continued, his eyes back on Natasha.

“James,” Natasha said. She sounded concerned, but her eyes showed more empathy than pity, as if she’d been on his place before. “I get it,” she said. “I don’t have the cleanest record either. I have a long list of things I regret.” She played with the straw inside her cup. “Horrible things,” she went on; she took a deep breath before looking at him again. “Some may be worse than yours.”

It was hard to believe. He knew her past was less than perfect, but worse than the Winter Soldier’s?

“How do you do it then?” He asked. Catching the confusion on her face, he continued. ”How do you wake up in the morning and just… live, with the weight of everything you've done.”

“I try to do my best to rectify the wrong I did. And then-“ she shrugged, “I guess in time you realize that the only people who’d find pleasure in your guilt are the ones who did this to you.” He often thought about those people. The ones that snatched his life from him and made him less than human. Natasha’s serious expression melted into a smile as she said: “And you figure you can’t give them the satisfaction.”

Bucky hummed in thought. He’d never thought of it that way. She made it sound so easy, but he knew it had been anything but.

That night, as he poured milk into his ginger tea, Bucky thought about the way her eyes lingered on his. There was something about the way she looked at him. Someone else could have mistaken it for mere kindness—but not him. He knew better. There was something else there: understanding.

He dreamed about her again that night. 

He recognized the room they were in— it was the same as the last time he had dreamt about her. They were not dancing this time; instead, they just stood facing each other. He wore the necklace with the flat, rectangular, dark gray pendant this time, but not for long. He pulled it off his neck and placed it around hers. As the pendant rested on her chest, he read the inscription on it. It was a code with letters and numbers. 

“I know you can’t wear this,” he whispered in Russian, “but just keep it somewhere safe, okay?” She squeezed the pendant in her hand and nodded to him. “I will,” she whispered back.

“I want you to have something to remember me, in case I-“

“Don’t say that,” she interjected, and the words seemed to catch on her throat as she put her hand on his cheek. “You better be back. I’ll be waiting.”

Steve’s apartment was hot. He refused to turn on the AC despite the scorching summer weather. Bucky opened the window, hoping to get some air, and then he lied on the couch while he waited for him to come out of his room.

“Hey, Buck.” Steve greeted as he approached him, “what’s going on?”

“Can’t I just visit my best friend for no reason at all?” Bucky replied.

“Sure, but at 6:30 in the morning?” Steve said, skeptical.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Bucky said casually.

“Nightmares?” Steve asked, now looking concerned.

“Sort of...” Bucky admitted. “I need to ask you something.”

“Okay...” Steve said expectantly.

Bucky looked at him, suddenly nervous. “Natasha, your friend,” he started. Steve looked confused, seemingly having no idea of what Bucky was getting at. “Did I know her? Before, I mean.” 

“I don’t think so.” Steve paused to think for a moment. “Why?” he asked.

“Nothing, I just.. keep having these dreams of her,” Bucky said. He could see Sharon in the kitchen, pretending to mix sugar into her coffee, stirring slowly and deliberately. He continued. “I know it’s stupid to think that I knew her because of a dream, but—”

“Actually—” Steve interjected.

“What?” Bucky could feel his heart quicken. Maybe he wasn’t ready to hear whatever Steve had to say.

Steve hesitated, then said: “She once told me she had an… encounter with you in Odessa. You shot out her tires,” He paused for a moment, studying Bucky’s expression. “...And then you shot her,” He continued, with a trace of anxiety in his voice. Bucky knew Steve was afraid of how he would feel after hearing about it.

“God…” Bucky dropped his head in his hands. He was starting to feel sick. 

“Sorry, Buck,” Steve said, looking genuinely upset. “Is that what you’ve been dreaming about?”

“No, not at all.” Bucky tried to choose his words carefully. “In my dreams we’re…” Bucky paused. “We get along.”

“Sorry man, I wish I could be of more help,” Steve said.

“Right.” Bucky said.

After a few moments, Steve spoke again. “I was planning to go for a run, but I can stay here if you want,” he said.

Bucky shook his head. “Nah, I'll be fine,” he said, and Steve was out the door.

“You’re having those dreams because you like her.” Sharon said as she offered him a cup of tea. “I’ve seen how you stare at her.”

“I don’t—” Bucky started to protest.

Sharon interrupted him “Please don’t try to deny it. I have eyes.” 

“…stare,” Bucky continued. 

“It’s adorable,” Sharon said. Bucky rolled his eyes. “Don't worry, there’s nothing wrong with your erotic dreams.”

“I swear to God…”

“But really, it’s normal. You shouldn’t worry about it that much.”

Bucky frowned. “I’m not worried. I just wanted to know if I knew her before. I just… I dream about my past so much that I thought that maybe… and now I know I’ve tried to kill her twice.”

“You should ask her out,” Sharon said.

“Sharon.”

“I’m serious, it’s in your list too,” she said with a mischievous smirk.

“Hmm I wonder who’s fault that is?” Bucky replied.

Sharon shook her head. “Who cares?”

“She’s helped me, you know, with the list,” Bucky said.  “Well, we went to see a movie,” he clarified.

Sharon's mouth dropped open. “Silly me telling you to ask her on a date when you’ve been hanging out this whole time”

“It’s not like that,” Bucky said. “She just offered to take me to the movies when she saw my list,” he continued. “That’s when I started having those dreams” Sharon squinted her eyes at him. He thought it better not to mention their sparring session.

The truth was that they had sparred a few times already. They would spar for an hour and then head across the street to the cafe to get something to drink.

He would tell her about his tiresome therapy sessions and his arguments with Steve. She would tell him stories about her latest missions, and her crazy adventures with the Avengers before everything went down. 

They talked about their cats. They shared pictures. Bucky had a lot of pictures of Alpine—way too many in Natasha’s opinion.

It had become a routine over the past few days, one that he didn’t want to tell anyone about.

“I’ll tell you a secret,” Sharon said. Bucky looked at her with interest. “I’ve seen her stare at you too”

He chuckled. “I shot her twice. And I am far from boyfriend material.”

“It’s just one date,” Sharon insisted.

“What about you and Steve?” Bucky asked, attempting to change the subject.

“What about it?” Sharon said, visibly annoyed by the question.

Bucky raised his eyebrows.

“We’re friends,” she added.

“Is that why you woke up in his bed today?” Bucky asked, his lips curling into a smirk.

“I’m not hopelessly in love with someone I just met, if that’s what you’re asking,” Sharon said.

Bucky laughed. He knew she was deflecting, but decided not to push it.

It was funny, the way they talked like old friends. Nobody would have guessed that their first encounter had been hostile—and that was an understatement.

Despite Sharon’s denial, she and Steve spent a lot of time together. And more often than not, when Bucky was at Steve’s apartment, so was she.

It was nice, them being together. She was a nice relief from Steve’s overbearing presence in his life. He knew that Steve only put so much pressure on him because he cared, but it was nice to be around someone that just let him be.

“Can you please not tell Steve?” Bucky said. “About me and Nat—not that there’s anything going on, but… you know,“. 

“Sure,” Sharon said. “I’ll keep your little secret. But why?”

Bucky shifted in his seat. “I don’t know,” he said.  “I don’t think he would approve.” He paused for a moment. “Honestly I don’t know what he would say. He keeps treating me like I’ll break.”

“Fair enough.”

Natasha’s eyes darted back and forth between the messages on her phone:

J: “Do you want to go to dinner with me?”

N: “Barnes, are you asking me on a date?”

J: “Yes.”

J: “I hope that’s okay.”

She’d be lying if she said she had spent all these years waiting for him, that he was the only man she’d ever loved. There had been others. Despite her solitary nature, Natasha wasn’t one to shy away from love. She also never, in a million years, expected him to reappear into her life.

But she would also be lying if she said she felt with anyone else the same way she’d felt with James. He had seen the rawest version of her, young and unguarded. He had been a safe haven, a warm blanket on a cold night. She’d never told anyone about him. It had been so long, that sometimes when she thought about their time together it seemed like it never happened, that it was all a dream she was violently awakened from. But it had been very real, and now he was back.

But there was one tiny problem—he didn’t remember her. He didn't remember how they met, or their secret encounters in the dark. He didn’t remember how they would dance in the middle of the night in her bedroom, where no one could see them. 

Maybe it shouldn’t have bothered her so much, but it did. She yearned for the soldier who knew her and loved her, the one who would risk everything for her. Instead, she had this stranger for whom she was nothing more than a pretty girl he liked.

But what was one date, anyway? She could go out with him. See, it didn’t have to mean anything. It didn’t mean they were back together, or that she would sleep with him. She could definitely just have dinner with him and then part ways.

Natasha sighed, picked up her phone, and started typing.

N: “Yes, I’d like that.”

They were sitting awfully close, their legs touching, at a table at the back of the restaurant that held only two seats side by side. In front of them, a long shelf full of liquor bottles covered nearly the entire wall.  The place was small, cozy and dim, with only one light placed near their table on the wall to their left.

“Do you want a drink?” James asked her.

“Are you trying to get me drunk, soldier?” Natasha said teasingly. 

“I wouldn’t dare,” he said. “Unless you want me to.” The entire night she had seen glimpses of his flirty and playful side, and the thought that this piece of himself was returning made her feel warm inside.

She chuckled. “I have to leave for a mission early tomorrow morning," she said. Otherwise I would.”

Natasha could see a million questions in his eyes. Where was she going? With whom? A million questions he wouldn’t dare ask.

He frowned. “When will you be back?” He asked.

“Maybe a week or so,” she said. “It’s hard to tell with these things.” 

“Right,” he replied, looking away. 

He seemed so attached to her, mourning her week away before she even left. It almost made her forget that he had no memory of their time together. Instinctively, she put her hand on his cheek and turned his face toward her.

“Hey,” she told him. “Don’t be sad. I’ll be back.” 

God, she was making promises to him already.

He covered her hand with his own, clearly overcome by the fact that she had just touched his face. As if out of reflex, she grabbed his hand and held it, pulling it down until it was resting on the table.

Natasha smiled at him. “I’ll take you dancing when I come back,” she said.

James mirrored the smile “You will?” he asked.

“It’s on your list, isn’t it?” she said.

“I thought you said fuck the list” 

“I did,” Natasha said with a grin. “But I need an excuse, don’t I?” 

“You don’t,” he said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “I’d go dancing with you any day.” His eyes were bright, and he winked at her, making her feel like they were two teenagers holding hands in the school backyard.

When she was around him, the instinct to hide was strong. After all, that is what they were used to. After all, they never had a chance to love each other out in the open—they had only stolen moments. Everything had to be quiet, cautious—even the slightest of touches.

That night, however, she could hold his hand in a room full of people. She could feed him with her fork when he asked to try her food. She could laugh at his stupid jokes as loud as she wanted to. 

As Natasha and James walked out of the restaurant, she looked up and saw a layer of clouds covering the sky. In the distance, she could hear thunder rumbling. They were wrapped up in conversation as they walked to the spot where she had parked her motorcycle. 

“One time I had to sit next to a guy that kept asking me Would You Rather questions,” James said.

Natasha looked at him in disbelief. “That was the worst plane ride of your life?”

“Well, maybe not the worst one, but pretty close,” James said, amused.

“Mine would probably be being attacked and almost dying while flying a stolen plane into Algeria,” Natasha said. “But no big deal.”

“Now you’re just bragging,” James said.

“Would you rather be ugly but smell amazing or handsome and stink?” Natasha asked, grinning.

“Not you too!” James protested.

“Sorry, I had to,” Natasha said.

As they had reached her parking spot, James looked up, actually thinking about the question.“I am already handsome,” he said, smirking, “and it hasn’t gotten me anything good. So I guess I’d rather smell good.”

“Oh I doubt that’s true,” she said. She noticed the collar on his shirt was lopsided after he had put on his jacket, so she reached over to straighten it. “I’m sure it’s gotten you a few good things.”

“I’ll miss you,” James said in a low voice, looking straight at her. 

She slid her hand from his shirt collar to his chest and took a step towards him. “I know,” she said, looking up to meet his gaze. Her eyes wandered to his lips. With no more than an inch between them, she felt a familiar rush. And before her brain could formulate an excuse for her to drive away and never return, she clutched his shirt, pulled him towards her and kissed him. 

He groaned faintly, and then his lips moved with hers, although tentatively, as if he was afraid to let himself get too into it. She loosened her grip on his shirt, letting go of it with one hand and moving it up to the nape of his neck, feeling strands around her fingers. At this, he wrapped both of his arms around her waist and pulled her onto him, deepening their kiss. She could feel the beat of his heart through his shirt, taste salt and lemon in his tongue.

The droplets of rain falling on her skin suddenly got heavier, and she felt as if breaking out of a trance. When they finally broke apart, she was breathing heavily, as was he.

“I’ll see you” she said, her hands resting on his chest, and she hated how her voice cracked a little.

“See you,” he replied as she slowly removed her hands from his shirt. She knew it was time for her to leave, but all she could do was stand there frozen, trying not to think about the taste of his mouth and the look on his eyes and the feel of his hair. She could throw all caution to the wind and ask him to go back to her apartment with her. She could ask him: “Don’t you remember me now? Not even a little?” but she knew the answer already.

Natasha opened her mouth to say goodbye once more, but before she could speak, he kissed her again, short and sweet. 

“Bye,” he said and took a step back. It was pouring now. She smiled and turned away to climb on her motorcycle. After starting the engine, she gave him a wave, then she released the brake, turned on the headlight, and rode away.

Bucky stopped by Sharon’s place to pick up Alpine. Sam loved to make fun of him for treating Alpine like a child. “You do know that cats can stay alone, right?” he had told him. He knew it was a little ridiculous, but he worried about her. She was so little, and cried all the time, and it broke Bucky’s heart to leave her alone, especially at night. 

He paced back and forth as he waited for Sharon to open the door. 

“How was your-” she stopped, looking at him up and down. “You’re soaking wet.”

“Well, it was raining,” Bucky said, frowning.

“You sound upset,” Sharon said. “Your date didn’t go well?”

“No, it was fine,” Bucky replied. Sharon looked at him in disbelief. “It was more than fine,” he added, then paused for a second. “It was great.”

“Okay?” Sharon said, gesturing for him to go inside. Alpine was sleeping on her couch, curled into a ball. “She fell asleep listening to the rain,” Sharon said. She looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to elaborate on his date.

“It was good, I just-” he sighed, “she’s leaving tomorrow. For a mission, you know.”

“But she’s going to come back, Bucky, and it won’t be that long, anyway,” Sharon said, trying to reassure him and let him know he was being ridiculous at the same time.

“That’s the thing,” he said. “I feel like I’m so attached to her, and we aren’t even together. I just don’t know what the hell is wrong with me.” He frowned. The last thing he wanted was to scare Natasha off with his over the top feelings. She didn’t seem like the clingy type.

But that wasn’t all that was bothering him. Kissing her had stirred up something in him that he couldn’t get rid of. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he had done it before. But he had already asked Steve if he had known her, and all he could tell him was that story about how he had shot her. And he definitely couldn’t just ask Natasha, could he? More likely than not, this was just his stupid mind playing tricks on him. And if she didn’t think he was weird before, surely she would start thinking it then.

And now she was gone until God knew when. 

“Bucky.” Sharon said.

"Sharon."

“You’re overthinking this. She likes you.” 

“Yeah. Maybe I am,” Bucky said.

Natasha’s fingers clutched at his hair while her legs wrapped around him. They moved together in perfect rhythm, and she moaned and gasped in his ear…

He showered her neck with kisses, and noticed she was wearing nothing but the dark gray pendant she always wore in his dreams… Her skin felt hot on his lips as they travelled down her chest and abdomen.  Every part of her was familiar. She was so sensitive to his every touch, and he felt pressure build up inside him as she whispered words of praise.

Bucky woke up, hard, wet with sweat. He wondered if everyone else’s dreams felt as real as his. Not that he was complaining. This was the best dream he'd had in years. 

He wanted her. Maybe he had become infatuated with her too quickly, but their little relationship was the only thing he had to himself in this sort of purgatory he was living in. 

He had been intrigued by her from the first moment he saw her, and now that they were spending time together, the tension between them was undeniable, although he never allowed himself time or space to think about it. 

But tonight he was feeling unusually self indulgent. He brought his hand under his boxers and began to stroke himself as he thought about her. He conjured up images of her, laying naked and eager before him, her legs spread wide as he pressed his lips against the warm skin of her inner thighs. He imagined the way her body would feel on top of his, riding him, and the way her breasts would feel in his hands. 

He reached his climax quickly, feeling the exhaustion take over. God, he was in trouble. How was he going to manage to think about anything but her until she returned? Would she still want him when she returned? Did she even want him now?

Bucky couldn’t stop thinking about his dream. His dreams about Natasha stood out among the rest, which were scene after scene of slaughter, blood, and sheer pain. Those dreams didn’t surprise him, as he had little trouble recalling the faces of his victims, even in waking hours. They were vivid and terrifying, but part of him welcomed them as punishment, as a much too light penance for the terrible things he'd done. 

Shuri had warned him that the brain wave technology used to reverse his brain damage would bring back some memories. She'd said that some of those memories might come to him in waves, when his senses were triggered by something he heard or smelled or touched. She’d also said that some of those memories might come to him in dreams.

Bucky needed to pay her a visit. Maybe she could answer his questions. That afternoon, he went to her lab. As he stepped in, he realized he was nervous. He fiddled with the dog tags that hung from his neck while he waited for her to acknowledge him. He was apprehensive when it came to these things. He wanted answers, but was afraid of what he would learn.

“Hey Barnes,” Shuri said. He could see her leaning over her desk in the lab, looking at something that had her in deep concentration. “I thought I wasn’t going to see you until tomorrow”

“Yeah, I know I wasn’t supposed to come here today,” Bucky said, “but I need to ask you something.”

“What is it?” she said, looking up at him. Sometimes he forgot how young she was. Just a child, really. “Boy, you’re scaring me.”

“I… keep having these dreams.” Shuri waited as he chose his words carefully. “About… someone.” He paused again. “I just- How do I know if they are just dreams or actually memories?”

“It’s hard to tell,” she said. “Dreams feel pretty real when you have them, regardless of whether they’re memories or not.” She paused, and she must have seen the disappointment on his face, so she added: “But if there are people or places or objects that show up in your dreams, though, then being around them in the real world will probably bring some memories back while you’re awake.”

Bucky sighed. “I see”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you,” Shuri said. 

“It’s alright,” Bucky said. “You did help, actually.” Going by what Shuri told him, he had been around Natasha enough times that he should have remembered something, if they had met before. Sharon was right; he only dreamt about Natasha because he liked her. How could he have thought himself lucky enough to have been loved by her? It had been silly to think that the winter soldier would have been allowed such a privilege. 

At 6 in the evening, Steve, Bucky, Sam and Sharon sat at the top of a mountain. It had been Steve’s idea, to climb it to watch the sun go down. After all, it was in Bucky’s list, which only Steve was invested in, since Bucky’s mind was occupied by other things. 

Sam had declined at first, said he had seen enough sunsets and didn’t need to climb a mountain to see one more. Steve insisted, most likely so that Bucky wouldn’t feel like a third wheel. But Bucky didn’t mind it. In fact, he liked it. He liked watching them, and he enjoyed not being the center of Steve’s attention. 

“I can’t believe I let you trick me into climbing this mountain just to see the damn sun,” Sam had said while they were on their way.

“Come on, Sam. It will be worth it.” Steve had said.

They were eating snacks and joking around. From where they stood, they could see the forest in full bloom, and the smell of trees wafted through the air. Bucky wondered where Natasha was. Was she doing okay? Of course she was. Then he wondered what he would do when she got back. How would he even know she was back? Would she let him know? Should he ask Sharon? Did Sharon even know? 

“Hey!” He heard Sam’s call from far away. “Buck!”

“What?” Bucky said, startled. Sam was next to him, trying to get his attention while he was lost in thought.

“I just asked if you wanted chips,” Sam said.  “Man, you’re like miles away from here” 

“Sorry, I got distracted,” he replied.

“You good?” Sam asked. His face was lined with concern.

He nodded. Sam eyed him suspiciously. “Let’s talk about something else,” Bucky said.

“Like how those two are down bad for each other?” Sam said, gesturing with his eyes toward Steve and Sharon. Sharon laughed loudly at something Steve whispered in her ear. Bucky watched with interest. He was sure the joke wasn’t that funny.

“Yeah,” Bucky said. “She won’t admit it though.”

Sam chuckled. “No need.” 

Bucky glanced at them again. Sharon and Steve were sitting close enough that if their hairs raised they would touch. They were talking and Steve's eyes wandered from her eyes to her lips, and she was smiling with the corners of her eyes the whole time. Bucky felt like he was intruding on a private moment between the two of them. And, in a way, he was; he'd never seen the two of them so engrossed in each other before.

“Man, stop staring,” Sam said. 

“I’m not-”

“Don’t worry,” Sam interjected. “One day you’ll find someone who loves your little cyborg brain.”

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head. On the horizon, the sky was painted in shades of orange and yellow, fiery clouds adorning it all over. The colors turned richer by the minute, while the sun slowly sank below the mountains. Maybe if he spent enough time here he could forget that he was an ex-assassin, a fugitive, in a land miles away from his own, with really no place in the world.

“I told you it would be worth it,” Bucky heard Steve say.

“How did you find out about this place?” Sam asked Steve.

“I brought him here,” Sharon replied.

Sam and Bucky glanced at each other, sharing a knowing smile.

“Interesting,” Bucky said.

Sharon squinted her eyes. “What?”

“Nothing.” Bucky replied, grinning. “All good.” 

Natasha stared at the ceiling inside her trailer. The moon was full tonight and cast a faint glow on her window. The sound of the rain falling on the roof was soothing, but not enough to help her fall asleep. She was heading back to Wakanda in less than six hours, and she was restless.

She knew why. Going back to Wakanda meant seeing James again. Last time they were together, she had kissed him. She could tell herself it was an impulsive move, but deep down she knew it was going to happen from the moment she agreed to go on that date with him. They had been flirting with each other, dancing around the tension between them for weeks, but that one kiss had changed things.

She wanted to be cautious, she truly did. But when he stood in front of her, part of her felt like no time had passed at all. She hated to harbor hopes that one day he would wake up and remember her, but she had moments of weakness.

Natasha gently grabbed the chain that hung from her neck. She didn’t know how she’d manage to keep the soldier tag all those years. The winter soldier had given it to her, one of those nights when they’d made promises no human should. It was supposed to be a reminder of him, in case she ever lost him. And it surely was. She had kept it safe and hidden, never once wearing it, until now. She’d decided to bring it with her, wearing it under her shirt. A shrink would call it self torture.

These days, every time she was alone in a quiet room, her mind wandered to James. Ever since their kiss, he had become the main character of her fantasies. Tonight was no different. She reached her hand down her belly until she found her panties, then ran her finger over the top of the cloth.  A slight shiver of warmth ran through her, which she felt in the pit of her stomach. 

She slid her hand inside, gliding her fingers across her clit, and sighed with contentment. Her eyes closed, and she imagined that it was his hand touching her. She replayed memories of those times he sneaked into her room, how he would slide his fingers between her legs and tease her until she was wet and trembling. She imagined that his tongue was where her fingers were, and that he was tasting her, driving her insane. She remembered the look in his eyes, tenderness and desire all at once, as he climbed over her. His warmth as he kissed her and slowly buried himself inside her, her moans dimmed by his hand on her mouth, afraid that someone would hear them.

She rubbed herself faster and faster, until an intense shudder ran through her. Her knees shivered; she exhaled, snapping back to reality as she heard the pouring rain fall on the roof. 

Something was missing from her blissful fantasy. If James were there with her, they would have clung to each other afterwards. The thought of him now filled her heart with a longing she had forgotten. It was foolish, the way she was mourning him now more than all the years she’d spent without him. In a way, things were simpler when he was trying to kill her. 

She had meant to wait.  Wait a few hours, at least. Maybe wait a few days, reconsider. But as soon as she landed, her fingers slipped, and she sent him a message with a time and a place to go dancing that night. 

The club was packed, and Bucky could feel the heat of bodies radiating from the walls. The music was blaring so loud he could feel it vibrating in his stomach. The second Bucky walked in, he caught a whiff of strong perfume mixed with beer and sweat. Bucky let his eyes wander for a moment. The room was full of people in different stages of intoxication. He could see some grinding up against each other, no doubt hoping to wake up the next morning with someone in their bed. 

Natasha arrived painfully on time. By then, he had already been waiting for fifteen minutes, his heart pounding with a mix of excitement and fear. But no one would be able to tell. He sat at the bar with a stoic expression, downing a beer that would surely have no effect on him. 

But she seemed to be able to read him despite his great effort to conceal his emotions. As she met him at the bar, she smiled knowingly, as if she knew how desperately he had wanted to see her. He smiled back, taking in everything—her black dress that began mid-thigh, hugging her skin in all the right places; her lips, painted a deep red; and her eyes, the same deep green they always were. He could hardly talk, but he managed to ask her how her mission had gone.

She didn’t answer. Instead, she grabbed his hand and led him to the dance floor.

“I don’t know how to dance to this kind of music,” he said, somewhat apologetically, as she grabbed his other hand.

“It’s okay,” she said. “I’m sure you’ll pick it up in no time”

Bucky smiled, still a little worried about looking foolish. He put his hands on her back and they began to dance.

She moved effortlessly, swaying her hips with every step she took, and never once missing a beat. He did his best to follow her, though he sometimes missed a step. It wasn't bad for his first dance in 80 years. 

“You’re thinking too hard,” Natasha said. He rolled his eyes, but she was right. He wanted nothing more than to turn off his mind and get lost in the music, but he couldn’t.

She closed the distance between them, until her body pressed against his. Then she dug her fingers into the hard metal of his hand, and lowered it so that it was resting on the small of her back.  He couldn’t feel anything on that hand, of course, but the action was enough to send a chill through him. 

“Close your eyes, James,” she whispered in his ear. 

He did. And they started moving to the music, swirling across the floor in nearly perfect synch. 

“You were right,” Bucky said when the song was over, “I was thinking too much”.

“You’re a fast learner,” she whispered. “I think you’ve got it.” His inhibitions were gone, and they danced song after song. Dancing with her was easy. Their bodies fit together like two halves of a puzzle.

A slower song started playing. They were moving side to side with every beat, when she turned around and pressed her back against him, pulling his hands around to her hips. He felt the heat of her body against his and the muscles along her back move as she arched and swayed to the music. The air was alive with the beat of the music and the heat of the night. He could smell the floral perfume she was wearing, sweet and intoxicating. He felt instantly aroused, aching, which he knew she could feel through her tight dress.

When the music stopped, Natasha leaned into his ear and whispered, “take me home.” The sound of her voice alone sent him into overdrive. His heart raced and blood pulsed hot through his veins.

“As you wish,” he said, his voice husky and low. He grabbed her hand and led her out of the club. 

The ride back to her place was a blur.

Natasha didn’t mean to bring him there, to the front door of her building; she really didn’t. And she certainly didn’t mean to ask “Are you going to come in or not?” when he waited on the sidewalk, watching her walk inside, no doubt trying to appear as gentlemanly as possible. 

She and James waited in front of the elevator. It opened, and Natasha walked in first, James following behind her. They stood next to each other, not touching, but separated by merely an inch. She still had a chance to back out. It really wasn’t wise to go through with it, not when she felt all the weight of their long lost love, while in his eyes she was nothing more than Steve's hot friend. 

But he looked so good with his disheveled hair and his now wrinkled clothes and his tired eyes. 

The elevator door opened and they stepped out, walking towards her apartment door. She could tell him to go home, that she would see him tomorrow. That, on second thought, she was tired and just wanted to sleep. She reached into her purse to find her keys.

“Man, this is torture” she heard him say. And in a second his lips were on hers, not tentative and cautious like that day in the rain, but hungry and eager. Her mind was screaming for her to stop before it was too late, but she... she couldn’t. She could not deny herself the pleasure of his touch. She was allowed one stupid decision a year, right? 

She opened her mouth, allowing his tongue freedom to explore and taste her. His right hand came up to clasp the back of her head, holding her to him. Her arms went around his back, pulling him tighter to her as she felt his erection pressing against her. She could hardly believe how much she wanted him, that she truly had years of pent up longing and she was pouring it all onto him.

“Let’s go inside,” she whispered breathlessly and he released her, nodding.

She unlocked the door and they entered. As soon as she closed it, his arms were around her, and they were kissing again. He pushed her backwards into the wall, his lips finding her neck. He then traced kisses along the line of her jaw, down her neck to the pulse point of her throat. She let out a faint moan as he started nibbling at her skin in a way that was sure to leave a mark.

She reached for his shirt, undoing button by button, until it was completely open as she pulled it from his pants and pushed it off his shoulders, letting it drop to the floor. He pulled his dog tags from around his neck and dropped them on top of the shirt, before bringing his hands to her thighs, slowly working his way upwards. His flesh hand cupped her ass and she let out a small gasp.

"I need to see you," James whispered.

Natasha guided his hand to the zipper on the side of her dress, and he pulled it down, slowly, letting his fingers linger on her skin. When the dress was loose enough, she pushed it over her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. She then reached for her bra and unclasped it, letting it follow the trail of the dress on the floor. James took a step back to stare at her, his eyes roaming her body.

"My god, you're so beautiful," he breathed, reaching out to grab her waist. Before she could respond, he swept her into his arms and carried her to her bedroom. 

He gently lowered her against the pillows, and she held her breath as she watched him unbutton his pants and pull them off. He lifted his eyes to meet hers and her stomach flipped at the heat in his stare.

James reached for the waistband of her panties, and slowly slid them off her body. He moved between her legs, kissing her thighs, taking his time to savor her skin. His lips burned her skin and she let out a gasp every time his tongue found a sensitive spot. She could feel herself getting wetter with every touch.

When his lips finally reached the apex of her thighs, she moaned and moved her hips against him. He looked at her and smiled before dipping his tongue into her wetness, and she cried out again.

He paused, looking up at her, his lips slightly swollen and wet. Oh how she missed that sight. A shiver of desire moved through her, and she bit her lip and spread her legs wider. He didn't need further invitation and dove back into her.

He licked her, slowly at first, as if reveling in the smell and taste. Then she grabbed a fistful of his hair, and his pace quickened as he licked her relentlessly. Her free hand reached up to grip the pillow as she felt his tongue slide inside of her, and she squeezed her thighs together, trapping him. She was so close already.

"James," she moaned, "please." He lifted his eyes to look up at her and she felt the first waves of her orgasm washing over her. She gripped his hair tighter, his mouth pressing hard against her, and just as she peaked, she felt the bed shift as he moved up to kiss her. She opened her mouth to allow his tongue entry, and he moaned as he kissed her, his tongue still tasting of her.

Without warning, Natasha flipped him onto his back, pinning him beneath her. She moved her hips against him, and his erection brushed against her stomach. She took his length in her hand, stroking up and down a few times before guiding it to her entrance. She looked down at him, and he gave her a small smile that made her feel weak in the knees. He closed his eyes and moaned as she slowly slid herself onto him. He let out an audible gasp when he was completely inside of her, his hands coming up to rest on her hips. She moaned softly as she rocked her hips against his, feeling every inch of him.

"Natasha," he moaned. "God, you feel so good." She smiled and squeezed her walls around him, eliciting another gasp from him. His metal hand came up to her waist, his flesh thumb coming to rub her clit as she continued to move over him. Her hand came down to rest on his stomach, and she slowly moved it up to his chest, sliding it upward until it reached his throat. She could feel his pulse, pounding through his skin, and it quickened as she moved her thumb against his neck.   

He opened his eyes to hers, and she could see the fire in them.

"Is that okay?" She asked.

"Don't stop," he said, his voice ragged. Her hand tightened slightly, and he closed his eyes again, his head falling back against the pillows. Her pace quickened, and she felt him moan again and his hips thrust up to meet hers.

"Please," she moaned. "I want more." James nodded and started thrusting harder. Natasha closed her eyes, biting her bottom lip to muffle her cries. 

"No," James said, almost a whisper. "Don't hold back. I want to hear you."

And so she cried out, letting out a series of moans and gasps as he drove himself into her, their rhythm becoming faster and faster. He tightened his metal fingers around her waist, and she knew he was close.

"James," she gasped. "James, I'm so close."

Suddenly, in a series of frenzied thrusts, she felt him explode inside of her. His loud moan matched hers as they both rode out their orgasms. She collapsed on top of him, panting heavily.

Natasha couldn't help her grin as she slowly rolled off of him and laid on her back, staring at the ceiling. 

Moments later, he rolled over to his side and started tracing his metal fingers down her stomach, stopping at the scars on the left side.

“I did this to you,” James said, looking up at her. His eyes were sad and full of guilt.

“How-” she started. “Do you remember that?” She asked.

He nodded slowly, his lips twisting into a frown. “Yes,” he said. “I do now.” It was so unfair, how he kept remembering all kinds of events, except the ones she wanted them to. He moved his hand away from her stomach. “I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Natasha said. 

James sighed, and she wrapped herself around him. Her hand rested on his waist, with her head on his shoulder. They were in silence for a while. She loved that about them, that they could just be with each other, no need for words, and that was enough.

Natasha was almost drifting away to sleep, when she heard him speak. “I thought about you all week,” he said, his voice warm.

She looked up at him and met his gaze. She almost convinced herself that it didn’t matter if he never remembered their old relationship. He was obviously infatuated with her. She smiled at him and laid her head back on his shoulder, closing her eyes while he played with her hair.

“Me too,” she said at last. 

The room was dark, and he would not have seen anything if it hadn't been for his enhanced senses. He was holding a machine gun in his hands, listening carefully, looking for a sign of life. He heard breathing, and without a second thought he aimed and fired a burst into the dark. A scream was heard and he fired again, sending another barrage of bullets into the blackness. A man fell through the doorway.

He heard footsteps behind him. He turned around, and was surprised to see the man he had just killed standing there, a bullet hole in his heart, another one in his head.

“Why are you doing this?” the man asked. Bucky opened his mouth, but no words came out. The man took another step forward and grabbed his shoulder, giving it a hard squeeze. “Why?” he asked again, his tone loud and angry. “Why?” the man screamed one more time. Then he shoved Bucky, and he fell into a pit of darkness.

Bucky opened his eyes abruptly, breathing heavily. 

“Hey,” he heard a familiar voice, “are you okay?”

He looked to his side and saw Natasha lying next to him. It took a few seconds before he remembered what had happened the night before.

He glanced at the clock. It was four in the morning. “Sorry, I must have woken you up,” he said.

“Nightmare?” Natasha asked, furrowing her brow.

“It’s okay,” he said dismissively. “I get them every night.” 

She frowned. “Come here,” she said, tapping her abdomen.

Bucky obeyed and laid his head just below her chest. She started running her fingers through his hair, and Bucky relished in the touch. It had been a long time since anyone had held him like that. With each stroke, he felt his worries dissolve, and soon, he drifted off to sleep.

“I could get used to this,” he told Natasha as he ran his hand through her cheek. They had just woken up, still tangled together in her bed.

“You shouldn’t,” she replied, a hint of sorrow in her voice. Her green eyes were glassy and distant. He didn’t know what to make of it.

So what? She wanted space. It was only natural. He was probably too needy for someone she had just started hanging out with. At this rate she would soon grow tired of him. Regardless, he couldn’t help feeling drawn to her. So safe in her presence despite everything. He hadn’t felt this way about someone since… Well, he couldn’t remember the last time he felt this way about someone.

“Do you want me to make you a mediocre breakfast?” Bucky asked, trying to lighten the mood. “Or we could go out and get something.”

“Let’s go out,” Natasha said, and he could see a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I know a place.”

Natasha really didn’t mean to spend the whole Monday with him. But she had lost track of time at the diner where they were having breakfast at, and as they were leaving she told him there was a new coffee shop she had been meaning to try. And then when they got there they realized they had never been to the park nearby. 

They were really quite lazy about it, a stroll this way, a walk that way, the occasional detour. The two of them kept coming up with excuses to go here or there when really, really, they just didn’t want the day to end. 

And then there was Tuesday when they went out to dinner, which turned into watching a movie in James' apartment, which turned into James kissing her, which turned into them making out on the couch, which turned into her ripping off his shirt and him yanking down her jeans, which turned into them spending hours in bed, and then it was Wednesday.

And now it was Thursday evening, and she was laying on his couch with Alpine curled up against her.

“Liho is going to be so mad when I go back home,” Natasha said.

“Mad?” James repeated. He was in the kitchen, serving the dinner he had promised her the day before.

“Yeah,” she said, stroking Alpine on her head. “She can tell when I have been around another cat, and she doesn’t like it. She’s very territorial.”

Alpine was a lot friendlier than Liho. She had gotten used to Natasha almost instantly. Liho hated strangers. Probably because Natasha rarely had people at her place. 

Natasha had many times resolved to stop the madness. It had been cute to sleep with James once, for old times sake, but she couldn't get involved with him. It was a guaranteed disaster. However, he seemed harder to resist every time. 

It wasn't just that she wanted him, and she did; she was also having fun. Beneath his brooding, troubled exterior, he was playful and snarky in the best way. She knew this already, but it had been ages since she'd seen it, and now that he had his guard down and felt easy around her, she couldn't help but get sucked in.

“You should bring her here,” James said. “Liho. So that they can meet.” 

“That sounds like the worst idea in the world,” Natasha said, “but we can do it, if you’re ready to fight a cat.”

It was a week later when Natasha brought Liho in a carrying case to James’ apartment. She didn’t know how James could take Alpine everywhere in his arms or inside his jacket. Liho was too wild for that. 

When Natasha opened the case, the cat walked out slowly, caught up in the strange new environment. She rubbed herself against Natasha's leg, then walked over to James', who had his flesh hand stretched out towards her. She started sniffing at it curiously, then walked away.

"I don't think she's overly fond of me yet." James said.

"That's normal. Give her time," She replied, distracted by the cat, who was now walking towards James' bedroom. James had locked up Alpine in there, to give Liho some time to get used to the apartment before introducing her to a new friend.

They both followed her, and saw her sniffing at the door, looking very interested in it. They could hear Alpine's meowing and scratching at the door. Natasha gestured to James to open it, and he did. Upon seeing each other, both cats started hissing, then Alpine pounced on Liho in an instant. Liho hissed and took off, running in the living room with Alpine chasing after her.

"Just let them get to know each other. They'll calm down after a while," Natasha said. James just nodded, a little bit worried that Alpine might hurt Liho.

"I hope they don't fight too much."

Natasha rolled her eyes.

"Just let them be. They'll be fine."

James looked at the cats, who were now sitting on different chairs, staring at each other. 

Suddenly, Liho jumped off the chair and walked over to Alpine. She sniffed at her face, and then started licking it. Alpine was still hissing at her, but it was starting to quiet down.

"I don't believe it," James said in shock, "They're actually getting along."

"It's cute, right? See, I told you."

They both went to lay down on the couch, watching their cats. Natasha lay on her back and James lay on top of her, his head resting on her chest. For a while, they were silent as she ran her hands through his hair. After a short time, she moved her hand to the back of his neck, running her fingernails across his skin.

He hummed in response, shifting his head slightly to look at her. Natasha could see in James' eyes that he knew she was teasing him. Her fingernails froze for a second and then moved down the back of his shirt collar. 

"You know," he said, his voice low. "I really think you should kiss me right now." She could feel him harden against her leg,  and she smirked beneath her eyelids.

"No," she said simply, moving her hands back to his hair.

"Why not?" he asked. He shifted his weight, grinding against her.

She half-smirked, half-smiled this time. "Because I like seeing you like this, all bothered."

James laughed and pushed up on his elbows. His eyes met hers. "Oh you're cruel."

"I do what I can," Natasha said, playing with the collar of his shirt.

He brought his hand underneath her shirt, laying it lightly on her stomach, just below her belly button. His thumb rested on the bottom of her rib cage, his fingernail tracing her skin.

"Two can play that game, sweetheart," James said.

He moved his hand up slowly, moving his thumb to the bottom of her breast. She watched the movement of his hand, feeling his eyes on her. He moved his hand higher, until his thumb covered her nipple, then swirled it around and she gasped, closing her eyes.

He moved his thumb down to her stomach again and then moved it back up, his hand resting just under the curve of her breasts. His hand was close, but he wasn't touching them.

"James," she said, grabbing his hand. "Touch me."

James smiled, pressing his lips to her stomach. "What was that, baby?" he asked.

"Touch me," she said again. Her voice was low and lustful, and she could feel him growing harder. James moved his hand slightly, his thumb just barely touching her nipple.

"Like this?" he asked.

"Yes," Natasha whispered. James moved his thumb up and down, slow, teasing motions. Natasha could feel herself growing wet. "Like that," she said. He smiled, moving his hand up to cover the rest of her breast, his thumb still moving in circles. He squeezed her gently and she arched her back, her body responding to his touch.

James grabbed her other breast with his metal hand, and Natasha took a deep breath.

"I want you," she said.

James lifted his head to look at her. "You have me," he said. He moved his hand to the button on her jeans. He undid it, moving his hands to her hips. He moved her jeans off of her, tossing them on the floor. "I'm all yours," he then said.

Natasha sat up, sitting on her knees. She took her shirt off, dropping it to the ground. 

James smiled, his eyes burning with desire. He kissed her, his tongue in her mouth, his hands all over her body. 

James moved his lips to her neck, his hands cupping her breasts. He squeezed her nipples lightly, and her hands found their way to his pants. She undid the button on his jeans and unzipped them. She moved her hands inside them, feeling him. He pulled her on top of him, her legs spread on either side of him, her wetness rubbing against his crotch. He moaned, and she slipped her hands into his boxers, her hand wrapping around his shaft. He moaned louder this time as she moved her hand up and down, slow and teasing.

"Natasha, wait," he said.

"What's the matter?" she asked, breathing heavily.

"Do you really want to do this while the cats are watching?” James. Natasha turned her head around and saw Alpine and Liho sitting there, cuddled up against each other, watching them.

“Oh my God!”

James laughed, holding her by the waist. “Come on, let’s go to the bedroom,” he said.

They both got up and she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing him hard. He picked her up, carrying her into the bedroom and closing the door behind them.

They were laying in bed, spent, their arms wrapped around each other. James' arm was around Natasha's waist, and she was resting her head on his chest.

“Nat,” he whispered, his voice rough.

“Mm?” she answered, too tired to say anything else. To say she was exhausted would be an understatement.

“I know it hasn't been long but I’m-” 

Natasha stopped him. “Please don't,” she said. “Don't say it,” she continued. James was quiet, and she could hear him breathing. Natasha lifted her head up to look at him, her eyes meeting his.

“You don’t know what I’m going to say,” he said.

“I think I have an idea,” Natasha said, looking away.

"Would it be so bad?"

“I- No, just- Not now,” she said.

“Okay,” James said, not pushing it. Natasha laid her head back down on his chest.

What was she thinking? He was clearly about to tell her he was falling for her, while she was hiding things from him. It was like they were together but in different universes at the same time.

She was in a universe where they were long lost lovers, where they had once loved each other when they had nothing of their own. They had given each other what no one else had before.

And he was in a universe where they had met no more than a few months earlier. They were worlds apart. And she could tell him, but what good would that do? He would just feel guilty for not remembering her. It would just be one more layer of anguish in his already complicated life. The man was just beginning to recover from being brainwashed for years. 

No, she couldn’t tell him.

Natasha rubbed her temples, trying to alleviate the headache that was building. She blamed herself for being impulsive. It really wasn’t like her to do things without thinking. Well, most of the time. To her left, James was almost asleep. His eyelids drooped and his breathing was slow and deep. It was incredible how fast he could fall asleep these days. Like a weight had been lifted off his shoulder. She guessed that it was a sign that he was getting better.

She got up to take a shower. Maybe the hot water would help her clear her head. 

Bucky woke up and the other side of his bed was empty. He went to the living room and found Natasha sitting at a chair near the dining table. She had Liho in her carrier and was petting her through a little opening on the side.  

“Are you leaving?” he asked, his voice scratchy with sleep.

She turned to look at him. “James.” she said, “I can’t do this anymore.” 

His heart sank and he swallowed hard, “do what?” he asked, walking toward her. He stopped a few feet from her chair and lowered his head to look into her eyes. “What’s going on?”

“This," Natasha said. "You and me. It can’t happen anymore.”

“What? Why?” Bucky asked, his voice rising a little. “Is it because of what I said last night?”

“No-" she said, "I mean, not exactly”

“I-” he started, barely able to get the words out. “This doesn’t have to be anything you don’t want it to be” he said, pleading with his eyes. “I just- It was a thing of the moment. You don’t have to say it back or anything. Please-”

“James- It’s okay.” Natasha looked down at the floor. “I hate to say it but it’s not you. I just… can’t do it right now.” He sighed, trying not to let his bitterness show. “It’s for the best,” she continued.

Bucky shook his head, “You don’t know that,” he said, “but I get it”.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her brow furrowed. Then she left.

Bucky stared at T’Challa and Nakia’s wedding invitation. He wasn't looking forward to it. He had barely slept in two days, ever since Natasha decided to end whatever it was they had. He had gotten used to having her around in such a short time. It was pathetic, really. 

That night he had laid in his bed and tried to make sense of it all. He came to the conclusion that it wasn’t really that complicated: They had been hanging out for less than a month. It was stupid for him to think she saw him as special in any way, that he had any significance in her life.

It wasn’t her fault that he was obsessed with her; it was his own fault for getting attached to her so quickly. It must have been overwhelming for her, having all those feelings from him, so who could blame her?

He had nothing to distract himself with. Or at least nothing that worked. He tried watching TV, but every show was full of romance, and seeing another couple kiss, or share any sort of physical intimacy made him feel like a pathetic loser. 

He tried to read a book, but he found himself re-reading the same sentences over and over again, unable to concentrate. He tried to listen to music, but every lyric was either about lost love, or love at first sight.

He even tried downloading one of those dating apps that Sam always told him about. He had spent hours filling in the stupid profile, uploading pictures, and even starting conversations, but he quickly decided it was a terrible idea.  He hated it all: the effort it took to figure out what to say, what story to make up about himself so that he wouldn’t freak out whoever was on the other side, and then the effort to decide whether his lies were believable enough.

He buried his head in his pillow; it still smelled like her. He wished that alcohol could numb the pain in his chest, but it had no effect on him. Man, how much easier life would be if he could get wasted and forget about it all for a while. 

The next day he had to go see Shuri. Bucky didn’t really feel like leaving his apartment, but he didn’t want to get on her bad side, so he headed to her lab.

“Man, you look terrible,” she said as soon as he walked in. 

“I know,” he replied.

She did what she always did. She took out a weird device and placed it on his head. She flicked a switch on the side, then stared at her screen as results flowed across it.

“I’ve reverted much of the memory damage you had,” she told him when she was done, “but I don’t think I can do any more.” she explained. “You should keep getting memories back for a while, though. It takes time for the magnetic pulses to take effect.”

He wondered whether it had been a good idea after all. Maybe it was better not to remember anything. Maybe she had something to wipe his memory and make him forget who he was and who he had been. Live his life as a nameless man. 

Bucky was about to leave the lab, when he had an idea. “Do you have anything I could take to help me sleep?” He asked Shuri. “I’m so exhausted but I can’t seem to close my eyes for more than an hour at a time”.

Shuri was reluctant. “Do I look like a drug dealer?” she said.

“Just this once, please,” Bucky replied.

“Okay, fine”. Shuri said and went over to a large cabinet on the wall. “You can have some of this”. She pulled out a vial, a plain black liquid inside of it. “It’s an experimental compound to treat sleeping disorders,” Shuri explained. “It’s not safe to take on a regular basis, but it should help you out tonight”.

"Should I just... drink it?" Bucky asked.

"No, silly," Shuri said. "You should inject it. It should have an almost instant effect."

He came home to find Alpine scratching his couch again. Natasha had told him that he had to get a scratching post for her. She told him they could go shop for it together. God, why did he have to ruin it all with his stupid feelings?

He pulled out the vial Shuri gave him out of his pocket and poured the liquid into a needle. He tied off his right arm, made sure his vein was visible, and slammed the needle home. He then laid back on his couch and Alpine walked towards him and laid on his chest. Suddenly, his eyes felt heavy, and everything went dark.

Bucky had barely opened his eyes when his phone chimed. It was Steve. He hadn’t seen him since last week. He kept making up excuses to avoid him. 

S: Can you come over? It’s important.

Bucky rolled his eyes. Steve knew he wouldn’t refuse if he said it was important. So, after a shower and a change of clothes, he headed out to his place.

She was the first person he saw when he opened the door to Steve’s apartment. What was Natasha doing here? Only a week had passed since he last saw her, but it felt like a month. She was leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping a drink. She straightened up and smiled at him.

“Hi,” he said, looking at her, ignoring everyone else in the room.

“Hi,” she said back, her smile still on her face.

The room was quiet. He looked around and saw that Sam and Sharon were also there, staring at him silently. 

“Hi Bucky,” Sharon said. She couldn’t hide the mischievous tone in her voice.

“Hi Sharon," he replied. "Hi Sam. Hi Steve," he added. "What’s going on?”

“We’re going on a road trip,” Sam said.

“Sam.” Steve said, rolling his eyes. “We located a secret organization in the Seychelles islands that is trying to genetically modify prisoners to sell them as weapons. They call themselves BGI,” he continued. He looked at Bucky. “We need to find them and take down their operation. We leave the day after tomorrow.”

“We think there are a few locations in the smaller islands that we are still missing, so Natasha and I are leaving first to do some recon and then you guys will join us,” Sam said. 

Thank God he wouldn’t have to spend a bunch of hours stuck in a plane with her.

They went over the details of the mission. Afterwards, Steve, Sharon, Sam and Natasha were chatting about God knows what. Their voices echoed faintly in his head as he sat on the corner of Steve’s couch. 

If he was being honest with himself, he was a little scared of going back to fighting people again. The Wakandans had gotten rid of his triggers, but still. The last time he had fought someone for real was Tony Stark, and look how that ended. 

“You look really tired.” Natasha’s voice drifted over to him. She sounded worried.

He sighed heavily. “Well, I am tired,” he said without looking at her.

“Are you ok?” she asked after a short pause.

He let out a bitter laugh. Really? He looked at her. “Please don’t.” She frowned. “You don’t have to worry about me,” he continued. “I’ll be fine. I’ve survived worse.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

He looked away again. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” he said.

“I think I do.”

He met her gaze once more. “It’s okay. Therapist says that with time it will be like our… thing never happened.”

She flinched. “Right,” she answered. Had he seen hurt flash across her face? “James, I-”

“Hey, are you hungry? We’re going to get burgers,” Sam interrupted.

“No, I think I’m just gonna head home.” Bucky said, getting up from the couch. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow at the wedding.”

The wedding ceremony wasn’t as painful as Bucky had imagined it would be. It was beautiful. The officiant had a deep and soothing voice, the bride was radiant, and everyone in attendance seemed happy for the couple. 

It was nice to have a break from his brooding thoughts. His mind was not the most pleasant place to be in. It was nice to know that other people were happy. That some people could find someone who understood them completely and who loved them back and that they could be happy together for the rest of their lives. 

Now he was sitting by himself at the reception, watching Sharon dance with Steve and Sam take Natasha’s hand and lead her to the dance floor. He took another sip of his champagne, and tried not to think about how lonely he felt.

The newlyweds were dancing too, only an inch apart. They were looking at each other like they were the only ones on the dance floor. For a moment he felt like a ghost, a forgotten spirit, watching life go on.

Across the room, kids were playing, their clothes already ruined. A man stood near the dessert table, picking his 5th chocolate ball of the evening, if Bucky was counting right. 

“You look miserable. Wanna dance?” Sharon asked, interrupting Bucky's thoughts. He hadn't noticed Steve sitting down next to him. 

“It’s ok," he replied quickly. "I’m fine-”

“Bucky, have some manners,” Steve interjected. “It’s not proper to refuse a lady.”

“Yes, Bucky, have some manners,” Sharon said mockingly. He rolled his eyes and took her hand.

Across the crowded dance floor, Natasha was now dancing with some guy he didn’t know. Bucky’s eyes didn’t leave her for a moment. The two were awfully close, and the stranger had his hands on her waist. He felt his palm begin to sweat as he watched him whisper something in her ear. 

“What’s up with you and Nat?” Sharon asked, keeping her voice low. "You haven’t said a word to each other tonight.” They were swaying to the rhythm of the music. 

“Nothing’s up,” Bucky said.

“You’ve been acting grumpy all week. Did you two break up?”

“We weren’t together to begin with,” he replied.

“Oh, so something did happen.” Sharon said.

“I told her I loved her-” Sharon eyebrows flew up in surprise. “Well, I didn’t get to tell her, but she knew what I was going to say,” he corrected. “And then the next morning she told me she didn’t want to see me anymore.”

“I’m sorry.” She replied.

“It’s okay,” Bucky said, even though it wasn’t. 

“That was a bit crazy of you, though,” Sharon said. “You told her you loved her after only a few weeks?” 

“I know.” He paused. “But that’s how I felt— feel. I don’t know how to explain it, but I just do. I don’t feel like it’s been just a month.” He paused again and looked at Sharon. “I know you think I’m pathetic.”

Sharon chuckled. “No. I really don’t. You just… you feel everything deeply." She looked at him thoughtfully. "It’s kind of a curse, but it also reminds you that you’re as human as you ever were.”

Bucky smiled weakly at her. “That’s a nice way of seeing it.”

The song was over, and he went back to his seat, while Sharon sat down to the other side of Steve. Steve immediately turned to talk to her, completely ignoring Bucky. He was so gone for her. Who knew? Maybe he would be attending their wedding next year. 

Sam and Natasha apparently had a bet of who could dance with the most people during the night, he heard Steve say. It explained why neither of them ever sat down. He traced Natasha across the room, watching her dance with one person after another. 

She looked striking, wearing a green dress that brought out her eyes. He smiled. Despite his misery, he liked seeing her happy and carefree. She knew she had demons of her own; they were not that different, after all. They had similar scars and bore similar burdens. He wondered if she had ever loved someone. Loved them to the point that it hurt. He wondered who that someone was.

After a few minutes, Sam returned to the table and joined him. He was sweating.

“Man, no one can keep up with her,” he said.

“You should have known that,” Bucky replied

“I give up. She wins. I’m just going to eat food and chill.” He lied. Five minutes later he was back on the dance floor. 

Bucky stood up and walked to the dessert table. Might as well find out what those tiny chocolate balls were all about. When he came back, Natasha was on his seat. 

“Decided to let Sam win?” Bucky asked as he sat down next to her. Her skin was glistening with sweat and her hair was loose around her shoulders.

“He wishes.”

Natasha looked at the half bitten chocolate ball in his hand. “Can I have some?” Instinctively, he brought the piece of chocolate to her mouth, and she bit into it, her lips grazing his fingers. His throat tightened, and he felt his face grow warm. He was frustrated with the way she made him feel. He had never had such a visceral reaction to a simple touch. He took a deep breath and ate the last piece.

“Think you have one more dance in you?” He asked while extending his hand to her.

“Sure,” she said, taking his hand.

As they reached the dance floor, a slow song played. She put her arms around his neck and he put his hands on her waist. As he held her close to him, he took a deep breath and tried not to let the scent of her hair get to him. 

“You like it here,” Bucky said. “In Wakanda, I mean.” It wasn't really a question.

“A little,” she replied. “Of all the places I’ve had to hide out in, this is the nicest by far.”

Bucky frowned; he knew she didn't mean it as a joke. "Do you think we’ll ever be able to go back?"

“To the States?” she asked. He nodded. “I don’t know,” she said. “Do you want to go back?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I mean, sometimes I think it would be nice to be in the place where I’m from. Maybe it would help me remember more.” Her eyes were sad as she listened to him talk. “My therapist, she asked me what I wanted to do now that I’m free,” he continued. “And I didn’t even know what to tell her. I feel like I’m way overdue. Like I’ve lived past my time.” He sighed. “Even though I haven’t really lived at all, have I?”

“James,” she said, and he could hear the sorrow in her voice. She moved closer to him and put her head on his shoulder. “I wish I could rip all the sadness away from you.” He almost didn’t hear her, but the words echoed in his head over and over again. He didn’t know what to say, and they danced through the rest of the song in silence.

Bucky started packing for the next day’s mission as soon as he got home. Alpine kept trying to get into his bag. 

"I wish I could bring you with me too, baby." He lifted her out of the bag and put her on the bed. He chuckled at the thought of taking his cat with him on a mission. Maybe she would be a good sidekick. "You'll be staying with my friend Shuri for a few days," he said. "You'll like her."

As he packed, his mind drifted to Natasha. How it had felt to hold her, even if just for a dance. Her hair smelled of coconut and roses. He knew he'd never smell either one again without thinking of her. He wondered if what the therapist said was true. That one day he would be over her. It seemed pretty fucking impossible right now. 

At least he was going to be busy the next few days. 

The next day, he met with Steve and Sharon. They took turns piloting the jet, and no one spoke much. The sound of the engines roaring underneath the wings of the plane filled their ears as they flew over mountains and water.

"Are you ok, Buck?” Steve asked him while Sharon was flying the plane. “You’ve been really quiet. And I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever. You’ve kind of been avoiding us. Or me, at least.”

“I’m fine,” Bucky said. “I promise I haven’t been avoiding you. It’s just… It’s been a rough week.”

“I worry about you, you know?” Steve said.

Bucky sighed. “Yes, I know.” Bucky said. “Too much, I’d say.” It sounded meaner than he meant.

Steve tensed up even more than he already was. “I just want you to get better,” he said.

Bucky didn't know why, but that set him off.

“I’m never going to get better, Steve!” he shouted. He could hear the anger in his own voice, and he felt guilty for it. None of this was Steve's fault. “I mean- maybe I am, but not in the way you think. I’ll never be that guy you remember. I just can’t be that person anymore. So much has happened. Things that you don’t even know about. And every day I remember something new. I can’t just- I can’t come back from that.”

“You can always come back,” Steve said, his voice quiet.

“That is just not true,” Bucky said. “I’ll always have the weight of what I’ve done-”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Steve interjected. “And you don’t have to carry that weight alone.”

“Well, I am alone,” Bucky said. Steve tried to protest, but Bucky interrupted him. “I know what you are going to say,” he said. “I have you, and Sharon and Sam—and I do. But you don’t really understand, and you couldn’t.” He ran his hand through his hair. “Man, I can’t even go on a dating app without having to lie about who I am-”

“You went on a dating app? Bucky, you shouldn’t-” 

“That’s not the point. The point is that I do feel alone. And in a way I am.”

Steve shook his head. “I used to feel that way too,” Steve tried to interject.

“Until you found Sharon, I know,” Bucky interrupted. "Good for you. I am happy for you, seriously. But that’s never gonna be me.”

“Boys, get ready for landing,” he heard Sharon say. Thank God. Because he didn’t want to keep having that conversation.  

They settled in their safe house, and Bucky told Steve and Sharon to sleep for a few hours, while they waited for Sam and Natasha to meet them there. He would keep them guard, since he was unlikely to be able to sleep anyway. He laid on the floor staring at the ceiling, his thoughts drifting to the events of the last few weeks.

At about 4am, a knock came at the door. He rushed to open it, and found Sam standing there, alone. 

“I have bad news,” Sam said as he entered the house. Bucky’s heart began to race. “It’s Natasha.” Sam paced back and forth, his face a sort of half-grimace with a twist of grief. “We split up,” he said, “and when I came back to the place where we were supposed to meet, she wasn’t there.”

“What?- What happened?” Bucky said, alarmed.

“I don’t know, but I found this on the floor,” Sam said. He took out of his pocket an oval tag hanging from a gray chain. Bucky snatched it from his hand. “Bucky, what the–”

“I have seen this before,” Bucky said. His eyes flew over the words on the tag. “Oh, my god,” he said, his voice breaking. He looked at the number engraved on the metal, “N032934”. He recognized this necklace from his dreams. She was wearing this every time. There was one dream where he had given it to her.

“Bucky, please tell me what is going on,” Sam said, looking at him with concern.

“This is hers,” Bucky said.

“You sure?” Sam asked.

Was he? Bucky paused to think, and then responded, “Yes… almost."

“Oh God.”

“We need to find her, Sam,” Bucky said.

Sam nodded. “I know.”

“Let me wake Steve up.”

“Guys, let’s not freak out,” Sharon said. “She might have just let herself be captured. She does that sometimes.”

“Was that part of your plan?” Bucky asked, looking at Steve.

“No, but this is Natasha we’re talking about here,” Steve said.

“But you don’t know if that’s what happened.” Bucky said, his anger rising.

“Bucky, we will find her, and she will be okay,” Sharon said. “I just don’t want you to panic,” she added, looking at him. Yes, he was positively freaking out. “Also, we need to think about how we’re going to do that while also taking down all of BGI’s bases.”

“I’ll go with Bucky to find Natasha and get rid of anything we find in the way,” Sam said, looking at Steve and Sharon. “And you guys can find the rest of the bases.”

“Sounds good to me,” Bucky said.

He and Sam left quickly on the other Jet after Sam found a location in the forest where they could land quietly.

“Is there something going on between you and Nat?” Sam asked Bucky, who was sitting in the co-pilot seat. 

“No… I mean, there used to be something, maybe," Bucky said. "I don’t know, it’s all very confusing right now.” 

“It does sound confusing.” Sam replied. “Don’t worry, we’ll find her.”

Bucky pulled the soldier tag out of his pocket. The more he held it, the more his dreams about Natasha didn’t feel like dreams anymore. They felt real, like memories. Maybe what Shuri had talked about was finally happening.

Bucky and Sam spent day after day taking down BGI bases. They had a strong network, but they weren’t a match for the Falcon and the Winter Soldier. It had been four days already, and they were doing well despite being outnumbered in most of their fights. They were making progress. Still, they hadn’t found Natasha yet. 

Bucky dreamed about her every night since the day he held the soldier tag in his hand. He would wake up with new memories every day.  He realized that there was one thing he had lied to Sam about: these tags that he held in his hand were not Natasha’s, she wasn't a soldier, after all. These were his soviet soldier tags, from his time in the Red Room. He hadn't remembered being there before, they were extra careful to erase every shred of his memories of Natasha, but now it was all so clear to him.

He remembered that he had been there for years, doing missions. He remembered training Natasha. He trained many of the girls there, but she was the best of them all. He remembered being impressed by her abilities and her reflexes. She was the strongest, the most intelligent, and the most dedicated.

He remembered the first night they had spent together. He remembered the way she kissed, how she pushed him down on the bed, straddling him, and the way she had looked at him when she knew he was going to let her have her way. 

And now he knew why he loved her. He had loved her long before that meeting in the pet food aisle. He had loved her against all possibilities, when there was barely a trace of humanity left in him. And then he had lost her.

Everything they did to him hurt more now. They had taken everything. They had separated them, punished them for loving each other. God, it made him even sicker now to remember that he had tried to kill her. Twice. 

“Buck, Sharon just sent me new coordinates. I think this might be it.” Sam said. “BGI had the location encrypted, but she got a new signal.”

They left immediately. When they arrived at the location, everything was dark. Half a mile away, they saw a group of small houses. They turned off the road and onto the dirt path that led to it. There were a bunch of guards, unlike at the other locations. Figures in black moved from one house to another, carrying guns. When they were within sight of the guards, Sam and Bucky started charging at them, doing their best to surprise them.

The guards fired their guns, but Sam and Bucky were too fast. The guards tried to figure out what hit them. Bucky grabbed one of the guard's rifles, and immediately bashed him with the butt of the gun. Sam grabbed another guard, punched his face, knocking him out.

After they took down all the guards outside, they entered one of the houses. They heard voices on the second floor. Sam and Bucky walked up the stairs and kicked open the door. A dozen men were gathered inside, seemingly waiting for them. Bucky instantly started shooting at them, and Sam was fighting them hand to hand. After a while, they were struggling. It seemed like no matter how many men they got rid of, more showed up. Bucky was busy with two of them, while Sam fought another, when someone came behind Sam and put a gun to his head.

"You're a good fighter kid, but you're no match for me. Now, you and your friend are going to come with us. Any resistance and I will kill you, I swear." Said the man, with an unnerving confidence. Bucky felt a pit in his stomach. He knew he wouldn’t be able to get to him in time. Then he heard a shot.

Bucky let out a cry.

"SAM!" But then he stood there confused, as he watched the guy pointing at sam collapse.

That’s when he saw her.

“Natasha!” He shouted.

"Hello boys." She said with a grin. 

Sam seized the opportunity and kicked the man in front of him. The guards were surprised to see Natasha too, which threw them off. The three of them started fighting together, and this time they were winning. After a few minutes, all the guards were lying on the floor, unconscious.

“So you did let yourself be captured.” Sam said. Natasha looked at him in confusion. “That’s what Steve and Sharon said you did,” he explained.

“Not really," she said, "...but I could have easily escaped and chose not to." Sam gave her a confused look. She continued, "I realized they were going to take me to their main base," she explained. "We had spotted a bunch of their bases, but we knew some of them were obscured. So the only way to know where it was was to go with them," she continued. "After we arrived here, I sent Sharon a signal."

“Okay," Sam said. "I guess I can’t be mad at you then.”

“We don’t have much time," Natasha said. "We have to destroy everything they're keeping here, and in the other houses too."

"Let's move then," Sam said.

They were back on the jet. They were roughed up and tired, but the job was done.

Sam was piloting, and Bucky and Natasha were sitting across from each other. Their guns, tossed aside, now laid on the floor next to them. Bucky watched as Natasha took her gloves off, revealing bruises. She reached for an ice pack, and started to apply it to her knuckles.

“Let me help you,” Bucky said, moving closer to her.

“It’s okay," she said. "You don’t have to. I got it.” She replied.

“I know,” he said, sitting next to her. “But what if I want to?” They were so close, their knees brushed against each other. Now that he knew about their shared past, everything he felt about her was heightened.

Natasha looked at him, placing the ice pack in his hand. He took her hand and placed the pack on her knuckles. They were silent, and he did his best not to look at her face, focusing on her hands instead. After a while, he reached for Sam's first aid kit and started tending to the wounds in her hands.

“You’re pretty good at this,” Natasha said.

“I’ve had some practice,” Bucky said with a small smile. He finished the job and then wrapped bandages around her hands.

“Thank you,” she whispered. Bucky looked her in the eyes, and then looked away, leaving her to sit next to Sam.

When they arrived at the safe house where Steve and Sharon were waiting, Sam exited the jet first, leaving Natasha and Bucky alone for a moment.

“Nat,” he called, as she was about to exit. He reached into his pocket for the Soviet soldier tag that Sam had found.

“Yeah?” she said, turning to him, eyes expectant.

As he looked at her, he realized that maybe what he was about to do wasn't a good idea, after all. 

“I- I’m- I’m happy that you’re okay. I was worried,” he said. “A little bit,” he added.

They smiled at each other, and she exited the jet.

Bucky stood on the sidewalk, staring at the soldier tag in his hand for the umpteenth time that day. He shoved his hands in his pockets and waited for the light to change. It had been two days since they had gotten back from the mission on the island. Two days since he had last seen Natasha.

He kept debating whether he should give her the chain back; whether he should tell her that he remembered everything. Did she even remember him? Of course—or else she wouldn’t have kept the tag. Why was she carrying it around with her? 

Maybe he should just leave things the way they were. After all, Natasha had said she didn’t want to see him anymore. Telling her he remembered her was only going to make things more complicated.

The light changed and Bucky crossed the street. It was better this way; less messy. He wasn't fit for a relationship, anyway. And he definitely didn't deserve a happy ending. He reached his building and checked his mail before heading up the stairs. As he entered his apartment, he laid it all on the coffee table before collapsing on the couch.

A white envelope caught his eye and he picked it up. It was addressed to him; from Steve. He tore it open immediately, curious. Inside, there was a colored pencil drawing. It was him and Natasha, dancing, in what he recognized as T'challa and Nakia’s wedding reception venue. Her head was on his shoulder, just like it had been that day.

Bucky stared at it, heart hammering in his chest. Why had Steve sent it to him? No, why had he drawn this at all? He flipped the picture over. On the back, there was a note in Steve’s handwriting.

"Sometimes happiness comes easier than you think - Steve"

Bucky stared blankly at the words, completely at a loss for what to think.

He looked at the drawing again. In it, he was smiling. He had been miserable that day, but Steve had captured him in the one moment when he had actually looked happy. He noticed Natasha was smiling too, and her eyes were closed as she rested her head on his shoulder. She looked perfectly at peace with him.

Maybe Steve was right. Maybe they could be happy together.

How could he ever think there was another option? This was not something he could get over. He had been brainwashed, many times over, but his feelings for her had persisted, even though he hadn’t realized and hadn’t seen her for years. And he had been so lucky to find her again. 

He remembered the day she had been ripped away from him and his life fell apart once again, but now he had been given a second chance. It was as if destiny had finally brought them together again, after all of the pain and suffering they had both endured. He would be an idiot to let her go. 

He grabbed his keys and left his apartment, making his way to Natasha’s. 

Natasha was putting away Liho’s food when there was a knock on the door. She wasn’t expecting anyone, so she cautiously looked through the peephole. It was James. She opened the door, a confused expression plastered on her face. She didn't think she would see him at her doorstep again. He had Alpine with him, and the moment Natasha opened the door she jumped from inside his jacket and started chasing Liho around.

Natasha stared at James. He was breathing heavily, as if he had just run up the stairs. He was staring at her with wide eyes, not saying a word.

“James? Are you alright?” She asked.

“I think I have something that belongs to you,” he said at last.

“Wh-” Natasha started to ask, but then she saw him reach into his pocket and pull out a familiar necklace. Her soviet soldier tags. His soldier tags. “How-”

“Sam found them.” He interrupted. “I mean, in the place where you guys were supposed to meet," he said.

"Oh," was all she managed to say, and she reached her hand to take them, but he pulled his hand back.

"And then I saw them," he continued, "and I- I knew they were yours." Natasha’s heart skipped a beat. She stared at him while he struggled to find words. "I’ve been having these dreams," he said, "and you’re always in them."

Natasha’s breath caught in her throat.

"And I thought they were just dreams," he continued, "but now I know." He took a deep breath. "I remember it all, Natalia." Natasha felt her pulse quicken. She felt so overwhelmed by the thought of it. He had remembered. He remembered her. "And you didn’t let me say it last time but now I know more than ever that I love you. I do, and I-”

She didn’t give him the chance to finish. She pulled him in and kissed him hard. He wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her in, kissing her back. He was breathing so raggedly, as if he had been holding his breath for years. After a few moments she pulled back and looked at him. His eyes were bright with happiness, in a way she had never seen them before.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” James asked her a few hours later, while they lay in bed together.

“You kept saying that people were pressuring you to be something you used to be," Natasha said. "And I didn’t want to be one of them.”

“You could never be one of them.” He said, his voice vibrating with sincerity.

Natasha smiled at him. She brought her hand to his cheek, stroking it gently with her thumb. “I missed you,” she said.

As she caught his gaze, she knew that he understood her admission went beyond just the past few weeks. That it was about the years that had been lost between them. That even when she was not thinking about him, things never felt quite right with anyone else.

His smile grew wider. He leaned in and kissed her, and the way his lips began to move against hers promised her that their night was just getting started.

Bucky sat in his living room, watching Alpine and Liho chase after a ball he’d made out of paper. He would throw it, and the cats would race toward it and jump around it, and then he would grab it and start all over again. This time, Liho got there first. She picked up the ball with her teeth, and instead of bringing it to Bucky, like a dog would, she dropped it in the middle of the room. Then, she sat down and began to lick herself while staring at him. "What were you expecting?”, he could almost hear her say. He chuckled at their antics.

He looked up to find Natasha leaning against the door frame of his bedroom. She had just woken up and her eyes were tired, but she was smiling at the sight.

"You're up early," he said. "Well, earlier than I expected. I thought I wore you out last night," he added, smirking.

"Darling," she said, shaking her head. "You haven't seen the half of it yet."

Bucky noticed her gaze travel to the coffee table, where she’d left the chain that held his old soviet soldier tag. It chain had broken during her struggle with the BGI agents on the island. He followed her with his gaze while she strolled toward it, picked it up and held it in her hands, running her fingers through the metal.

“I need to get this fixed,” she said.

“You don’t have to,” Bucky said, walking towards her and taking the chain out of her hands. She looked at him, her face wrinkled in confusion. Before she could say anything, he grabbed the military dog tags from around his neck, the ones he’d worn since he had recovered from his latest brainwashing, and pulled them over his head.

“Here,” he said as he placed them around her neck, his eyes looking straight into hers.

She was quiet for a moment before taking the chain and looking at it closer. She turned the dog tags around and read the inscription on one of them.

“James Buchanan Barnes,” she said, her voice low and soft.

“These have my name,” he said. “You know, so you won’t forget about me,” he added, winking at her.

Natasha rolled her eyes, but the smile on her lips betrayed her. Bucky looked at her and couldn’t help but wonder how two people who had been responsible for so much pain in the past could end up like this. Did he deserve it? probably not, but it had happened nonetheless, and he wasn't going to question it, not anymore.

“I love you too, James Buchanan Barnes,” she said, taking his face in his hands, pulling him into a kiss.