Look, she likes to think of herself as pretty unflappable. Skrulls? Sure. Getting deposited into a different universe? Yeah, why not. So when she looks up at him, surprise evident on her face, it's pretty immediately clear that she wasn't expecting the offer.
But she is touched by it. Her eyes skim his face, her expression softening as she realizes that he means it. Genuinely. Even after she got literally dumped at his feet and confessed she's madly in love with another version of him.
Because even though he's gone, it's not really the kind of love that will ever become a thing of the past.
"You really mean that, huh?" Her mouth lilts into a little smile, and she leans her arm against the back of the couch so she can prop her head up on her hand. "I'd hate to inconvenience you." It's not a yes or a no. It's just a recognition that it's a lot to offer, and that she won't be put out if he's regretting making it.
"Well, the universe dropped you practically into my lap. So it would be the universe inconveniencing me if it was someone at all..." he almost feelings embarrassed by saying that. Did he insinuate that she's an inconvenience?
She's not, at least not to him.
"I mean..." he starts to correct himself and then shake his head again with a sigh.
"Look I don't know how to talk to women okay, I haven't done it since the 1930s."
This Bucky reminds her so much of the one she knew years ago. From when he was still learning how to navigate the world, how to figure out his place in it. It's a peculiar feeling of déjà vu in the way it's layered on top of the déjà vu she's already experiencing from him being here to talk to at all.
She can't help but smile a little as she listens to him correct himself and shift his course. "Look at it this way," she points out. "You're talking to a woman that already knows that and likes what you bring to the table. So what's there to be nervous about?"
Well, that certainly catches him off guard because he shifts a little bit to look at her and leans into the couch with his side, arm resting over the back as if to look a little more submissive. Like she caught up in some moment and he's like a dog rolling over onto his back to show submission.
"You can't know that, I could be a completely different person then the Bucky you knew. In fact, I frequently get the idea that it might be the case."
Okay so he hadn't actually thought much about other version of him. Just that he must not be in very good shape or company given the fact that his only friend seems to have ditched him to go be with a girl and let him rot in Russia.
She watches the shift in his posture, listening to what he says. And it would be funny, if it wasn't sort of sad. This exact response is how she knows he's him. Confident in his skills but still somehow doubtful of himself. It's the root of that self-effacing charm that gets her every time.
Her hand drops, moving slowly until it settles lightly on the forearm that's draped along the back of the couch. She lets the quiet sit for a moment as she studies his face. There's a little smile lingering on her lips.
Look, she's never been one for speeches. But she knows what she feels when she looks at him. She could find him with her eyes closed. She could pick him out of a crowd with a mask on. She'd know him trapped in someone else's body or impersonated by a Skrull.
"I know." The response is full of easy, quiet confidence.
Watching her touch him and move is like time standing still. Moments and feelings rush past his eyes in a way he'd only heard described in movies. Feelings of familiarity and fondness that shouldn't be there. Is this some weird multidemensional shit? Or things he's forgotten.
He's not sure? Does it matter which one it even is?
He shifts on the couch to slide closer to her and quietly lays his head against her shoulder, simply adding.
Well, if she was surprised before, it's nothing to the jolt that goes through her when he shifts in to lean his head on her shoulder. It loosens something that's been stuck in her heart since she watched him slip off the cliff face on that damned, silent planet. She has to swallow, quiet for a moment. Her arm curls around him so she can slide her fingers into his hair, her head tipping to lean against his. She's glad that he can't see her face - she could probably school her expression if she had to, but it's going to take longer to hold back the brightness threatening to spill from her eyes.
"Seems unwise to argue with you," he says quietly closing his eyes as he just let's her touch his hair. It's familiar, gentle, and a way he knows he hasn't been touched in the longest of times. He's still fairly certain he didn't actually know Natasha in this life, but maybe some other one. Maybe this is all just some big cosmic joke.
"The world drops you off a pretty red head, who argues with that?"
"Guess even the universe knows you've got a thing for red heads."
There's an easy, well worn familiarity to the way she says it. Something she's teased his other self with time and again. Particularly when she puts on a risque dress that leaves him looking gobsmacked.
The pads of her fingers brush against his scalp as she lets her fingers glide through his hair. It's weird. Finding him - a version of him - again after all this time. Being on a world parallel to her own. Even if it just ends up being a night, maybe she can let herself have this. Worry about consequences in the morning.
If Bucky was in a normal mood he'd joke about the comment that she'll stay. He'd tease her that she better once she's already got her hands in his hair. Something about anything else making her a tease or the like.
Today he doesn't have it in him. He can't find the words to say much of anything so he just considers her comments for a minute or two staying quite. It's easy to want to let this moment last for as long as it can.
After a while he breaks the silence with.
"I didn't know I had a thing for red heads either. But upon reflection I did once use our train money home at Coney island trying to win a prize for a cute red head, Steve was pissed."
The corner of her mouth twitches in a little smile. She remembers that story. It's enough to distract her, at least for the moment, from how alone he must feel here. Where's the line? Should she let him know the things she knows, or pretend like everything he shares is a unique revelation? They might just be crashing into an existential crisis. But honestly, it's been a few years since she's had one. Might be time to shake things up again.
And at the end of the day, when it comes to him - or some mirror universe version of him - she can't be anything but honest.
After a beat, she asks, "was her name Dot here too?"
Even though he'd closed his eyes he opens them, shifting to look up at her from his spot on her shoulder lips curling into a smile.
"She was, that's wild."
Like, he's know the multiverse exists but this is the first time he's ever been dealing with it when it has anything to do with himself. It's really hard to wrap his head around even when she says that, but it feels good to hear.
When he shifts his head, she lets her fingers slip free from his hair, angling her head to meet his gaze. "Good wild or bad wild?"
She can tell which way his answer is likely going to go based on his smile. But it still feels like one of those things that's worth asking. Of all the weird things that have happened to her over this years, she's pretty sure this is the weirdest.
Not only in part because she's slowly realizing that part of what makes this weird is that she's never thought about the universe as being particularly nice. If pressed, she might go with 'indifferent.' But this feels a lot like something she's needed, and it's so rare that she gets to indulge what she needs.
"Weird mostly," he says still smiling at her. He presses his head into her fingers a little bit more seeking out the attention, it's been decades since he's felt something like this and even if it's just for a bit he's gonna enjoy it.
Things go quite again for a bit, letting things be. He's never been much of one to force conversation or make things go places they aren't going to naturally go. However one question floats to the top of his head and he can't help to ask it.
"Your guy, yeah, you loved him a lot right? Would he be upset at this right now?" It's a weird question, asking about what another version of yourself would think about something. Yet, he's never had a proper relationship, he can't imagine what his own answer would be so he has to ask Natasha.
She can't help the quiet chuckle that escapes her lips when she feels his head tip into her fingers. Like a puppy that's not done being scratched behind the ears. But she obliges him, because of course she does, her fingers curling back into his hair to rub against his scalp in idle, meaningless patterns.
There aren't many opportunities to just sit and let it be quiet, so she's not in any particular rush. Especially because the other end of this is a lot of figuring out how she got here and why. Maybe even if she has to go back or if she could just...be here. Selfishly.
His question is met with a thoughtful hum. She doesn't bother correcting him that there's no past tense when it comes to the way she feels about the Bucky from her universe. He's been gone for years and he's still the only one for her. Apparently no matter what world she's on. After a moment, a smile twitches at the corner of her mouth. "I think he'd be amused, actually. 'If it has to be someone else, at least it's me.'"
"I haven't had a girlfriend since before The War, but I could imagine myself saying something like that if I did..." it sounds a little fond and a little sad when he says it. Like it feels like something he's missed. It's been almost two years since they all came back from the blip, two empty years where nothing has settled quite right expect an empty apartment in the change of the world and Sam occasionally bothering him about things.
Maybe that's why he'd been so easy to not argue with Natasha. Something deep inside him wanted something, anything to cling on to. To not be bitter about the fact that he lost Steve to time, and Steve even just let him be there and tortured for decades. To wish that he was old and time could just move on instead of drudging on at the pace it's going.
She can hear it all in his voice. All that nostalgia. The longing that bleeds in around the edges. He's so alone that it's almost enough to break her heart. That's something that she knows more than a little bit about. Before the other him was sent to the Red Room, it had just been her against the world. Always watching her own back. Always waiting for the knife in the dark. The betrayal.
She wouldn't have made it out alive without him. Or - alive, maybe. But not living. The last few years have been a stark reminder of that. What was the point of everything without someone to share it with?
After a moment, her fingers drift idly through his hair, and she answers, "sounds like it's been lonely here." It's not sympathy, exactly - more like understanding. Like what she's really saying is 'I know exactly how that feels.'
"It has been," he murmurs quietly just enjoying her fingers. It takes a while but he works up the courage to let his arm drape across her lap and squeeze one of her thighs firmly. It's not sexual, but is fond, like he's trying to thank her for this. Whatever it is.
"What happened in your world? After Thanos. Here a bunch of people died, and then Steve decided to just fuck off to the past." The words sound sharp, hurt, like he's still not really quite over being left out in the cold of the future without anyone else.
She can tell that it's a gesture of - solidarity, she thinks. Maybe a little bit of affection. Just two isolated people finding an unexpected moment of peace among some admittedly weird circumstances.
There's a lot of bitterness in his voice when he talks about Steve. And she gets it, even though she has a different perspective on it. "He went back to the 40s in my world too. Hard to resist the lure of a chance at having a life." She couldn't even begrudge him for it. He'd sacrificed so much over the years.
"And if you went back to the past, Natsaha, would you let them do those things to him all over?" It's a question to her, but clearly about Steve, about some of the bitterness he'd allow to fester over the years since he'd departed.
He'd never admitted that to anyone. He's not sure why he's telling her it now, but he hopes she'll be on his side. He desperately wants for anyone to be on his side in this, it's felt like forever since he's had anyone.
Well, that response certainly brings everything into sharp relief. Her head tips a little, and it's quiet for a moment as she considers her response. What the most important pieces of the puzzle are.
"I can't speak for the Steve in your world. But my understanding is that you wouldn't know even if he did go back and rescue you. Your past is already your past. He would have created a - alternate timeline, because from his point of view, he was still living out his future. So there could be another Bucky out there that was rescued. His path just diverged from yours."
Her hand slips from his hair so her arm can curl around his shoulders, giving him a gentle squeeze. She know that's hard to hear. That there's no changing what happened to him. Even if Steve tried.
"But if I'm answering for myself, no. Even if I knew I would be making another universe or even a thousand other universes. Nothing would be able to stop me."
Yeah okay. That feels like so much, arms around him he turns into her closer and buries his face in her neck. That's a lot, it's so much to take in to think about. Is she right, could he have tried and made a mess of it. Really would this world not be changed?
She does seem to know about other worlds though so there's maybe no reason that she wouldn't know about this as well.
"That sounds like a bunch of bullshit..." he mutters against her neck in protest.
She can tell her answer is difficult to swallow. But she's grateful for the quiet moment when his face presses against her neck. It's too familiar a feeling. Like vertigo. Like standing on the cliff again not knowing that he's the one that's saying goodbye for the last time. Her arm stays around his shoulders as she leans her cheek against his head and lets him stay there.
When he finally speaks against her skin, she can't help but chuckle a little. "It's time travel, milii moi." The term of affection slips out of her lips unthinking. "If the universe can pluck me out of my life and drop me on your roof, anything could be possible."
"Sounds familiar," he mutters against her neck. His metal arm slides down around her waist as he stays tucked close. He doesn't even register that he's murmured that because the idea that the term milii moi sounds familiar seems wrong.
Why would terms of endearment in Russian mean anything to him? Why should that be a thing. Clearly he just spent a lot of time in a hydrotank working for hydra and being a project right.
That's all he knows. A weapon. There's nothing else hiding back in his memory. He won't even allow himself to think of the option. No, clearly this is just some weird multiversal thing. He's getting some ping off her because she loves another version of him.
It takes her a second to figure out exactly what it is that sounds familiar. The idea of being plucked up by the universe? No. More likely that affectionate little nickname that had slipped out all unthinking. He's always been the only person she can let her guard down around. No surprise that there's an echo of it here.
"Does it?" she muses. If this Bucky didn't have any relationship with the Natasha from his universe, it was conceivable that he'd overheard it somewhere on a mission. She knew better than to get her hopes up that there might be something to unlock in his brain, or that he might have been dropped into this universe too. She knows how hard it is not to be able to trust your own mind.
So when she continues, it's just to share why she's said it at all. "I usually just called him James. Sometimes milii moi when we were alone. It must have been on my mind."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bucky pls why was that so cute
But she is touched by it. Her eyes skim his face, her expression softening as she realizes that he means it. Genuinely. Even after she got literally dumped at his feet and confessed she's madly in love with another version of him.
Because even though he's gone, it's not really the kind of love that will ever become a thing of the past.
"You really mean that, huh?" Her mouth lilts into a little smile, and she leans her arm against the back of the couch so she can prop her head up on her hand. "I'd hate to inconvenience you." It's not a yes or a no. It's just a recognition that it's a lot to offer, and that she won't be put out if he's regretting making it.
She'll find a way. She always does.
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She's not, at least not to him.
"I mean..." he starts to correct himself and then shake his head again with a sigh.
"Look I don't know how to talk to women okay, I haven't done it since the 1930s."
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She can't help but smile a little as she listens to him correct himself and shift his course. "Look at it this way," she points out. "You're talking to a woman that already knows that and likes what you bring to the table. So what's there to be nervous about?"
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"You can't know that, I could be a completely different person then the Bucky you knew. In fact, I frequently get the idea that it might be the case."
Okay so he hadn't actually thought much about other version of him. Just that he must not be in very good shape or company given the fact that his only friend seems to have ditched him to go be with a girl and let him rot in Russia.
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Her hand drops, moving slowly until it settles lightly on the forearm that's draped along the back of the couch. She lets the quiet sit for a moment as she studies his face. There's a little smile lingering on her lips.
Look, she's never been one for speeches. But she knows what she feels when she looks at him. She could find him with her eyes closed. She could pick him out of a crowd with a mask on. She'd know him trapped in someone else's body or impersonated by a Skrull.
"I know." The response is full of easy, quiet confidence.
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He's not sure? Does it matter which one it even is?
He shifts on the couch to slide closer to her and quietly lays his head against her shoulder, simply adding.
"Okay then."
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"Just like that, huh?"
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"The world drops you off a pretty red head, who argues with that?"
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There's an easy, well worn familiarity to the way she says it. Something she's teased his other self with time and again. Particularly when she puts on a risque dress that leaves him looking gobsmacked.
The pads of her fingers brush against his scalp as she lets her fingers glide through his hair. It's weird. Finding him - a version of him - again after all this time. Being on a world parallel to her own. Even if it just ends up being a night, maybe she can let herself have this. Worry about consequences in the morning.
"I'll stay."
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Today he doesn't have it in him. He can't find the words to say much of anything so he just considers her comments for a minute or two staying quite. It's easy to want to let this moment last for as long as it can.
After a while he breaks the silence with.
"I didn't know I had a thing for red heads either. But upon reflection I did once use our train money home at Coney island trying to win a prize for a cute red head, Steve was pissed."
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And at the end of the day, when it comes to him - or some mirror universe version of him - she can't be anything but honest.
After a beat, she asks, "was her name Dot here too?"
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"She was, that's wild."
Like, he's know the multiverse exists but this is the first time he's ever been dealing with it when it has anything to do with himself. It's really hard to wrap his head around even when she says that, but it feels good to hear.
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She can tell which way his answer is likely going to go based on his smile. But it still feels like one of those things that's worth asking. Of all the weird things that have happened to her over this years, she's pretty sure this is the weirdest.
Not only in part because she's slowly realizing that part of what makes this weird is that she's never thought about the universe as being particularly nice. If pressed, she might go with 'indifferent.' But this feels a lot like something she's needed, and it's so rare that she gets to indulge what she needs.
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Things go quite again for a bit, letting things be. He's never been much of one to force conversation or make things go places they aren't going to naturally go. However one question floats to the top of his head and he can't help to ask it.
"Your guy, yeah, you loved him a lot right? Would he be upset at this right now?" It's a weird question, asking about what another version of yourself would think about something. Yet, he's never had a proper relationship, he can't imagine what his own answer would be so he has to ask Natasha.
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There aren't many opportunities to just sit and let it be quiet, so she's not in any particular rush. Especially because the other end of this is a lot of figuring out how she got here and why. Maybe even if she has to go back or if she could just...be here. Selfishly.
His question is met with a thoughtful hum. She doesn't bother correcting him that there's no past tense when it comes to the way she feels about the Bucky from her universe. He's been gone for years and he's still the only one for her. Apparently no matter what world she's on. After a moment, a smile twitches at the corner of her mouth. "I think he'd be amused, actually. 'If it has to be someone else, at least it's me.'"
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"I haven't had a girlfriend since before The War, but I could imagine myself saying something like that if I did..." it sounds a little fond and a little sad when he says it. Like it feels like something he's missed. It's been almost two years since they all came back from the blip, two empty years where nothing has settled quite right expect an empty apartment in the change of the world and Sam occasionally bothering him about things.
Maybe that's why he'd been so easy to not argue with Natasha. Something deep inside him wanted something, anything to cling on to. To not be bitter about the fact that he lost Steve to time, and Steve even just let him be there and tortured for decades. To wish that he was old and time could just move on instead of drudging on at the pace it's going.
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She wouldn't have made it out alive without him. Or - alive, maybe. But not living. The last few years have been a stark reminder of that. What was the point of everything without someone to share it with?
After a moment, her fingers drift idly through his hair, and she answers, "sounds like it's been lonely here." It's not sympathy, exactly - more like understanding. Like what she's really saying is 'I know exactly how that feels.'
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"What happened in your world? After Thanos. Here a bunch of people died, and then Steve decided to just fuck off to the past." The words sound sharp, hurt, like he's still not really quite over being left out in the cold of the future without anyone else.
"He was the only person I really knew."
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There's a lot of bitterness in his voice when he talks about Steve. And she gets it, even though she has a different perspective on it. "He went back to the 40s in my world too. Hard to resist the lure of a chance at having a life." She couldn't even begrudge him for it. He'd sacrificed so much over the years.
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He'd never admitted that to anyone. He's not sure why he's telling her it now, but he hopes she'll be on his side. He desperately wants for anyone to be on his side in this, it's felt like forever since he's had anyone.
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"I can't speak for the Steve in your world. But my understanding is that you wouldn't know even if he did go back and rescue you. Your past is already your past. He would have created a - alternate timeline, because from his point of view, he was still living out his future. So there could be another Bucky out there that was rescued. His path just diverged from yours."
Her hand slips from his hair so her arm can curl around his shoulders, giving him a gentle squeeze. She know that's hard to hear. That there's no changing what happened to him. Even if Steve tried.
"But if I'm answering for myself, no. Even if I knew I would be making another universe or even a thousand other universes. Nothing would be able to stop me."
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She does seem to know about other worlds though so there's maybe no reason that she wouldn't know about this as well.
"That sounds like a bunch of bullshit..." he mutters against her neck in protest.
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When he finally speaks against her skin, she can't help but chuckle a little. "It's time travel, milii moi." The term of affection slips out of her lips unthinking. "If the universe can pluck me out of my life and drop me on your roof, anything could be possible."
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Why would terms of endearment in Russian mean anything to him? Why should that be a thing. Clearly he just spent a lot of time in a hydrotank working for hydra and being a project right.
That's all he knows. A weapon. There's nothing else hiding back in his memory. He won't even allow himself to think of the option. No, clearly this is just some weird multiversal thing. He's getting some ping off her because she loves another version of him.
That must be it.
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"Does it?" she muses. If this Bucky didn't have any relationship with the Natasha from his universe, it was conceivable that he'd overheard it somewhere on a mission. She knew better than to get her hopes up that there might be something to unlock in his brain, or that he might have been dropped into this universe too. She knows how hard it is not to be able to trust your own mind.
So when she continues, it's just to share why she's said it at all. "I usually just called him James. Sometimes milii moi when we were alone. It must have been on my mind."
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I apparently lost this reply so sorry.
no worries! <3