brushpass | threads

Oh, she wasn't expecting him to almost shrink in on himself like that. To hide his face. She's seen him a lot of ways over the years, but never this disjointed. There's always been a small part of her that was angry that he sacrificed himself to let her get out, but it's hard to hold on to that spark, seeing him like this. It cost him every day. It's still costing him.

She should've run right back in.

"Hey." She leans onto the table and reaches out, running her hand up his arm. She wants to run her fingers through his hair like she used to, sit in his lap and whisper in his ear. But she's worried about pushing too hard, tipping him over the edge. Maybe she should have waited longer before contacting him. Her hand slides slowly up his forearm, giving him plenty of time to pull back if he wants to. But if he doesn't, she'll let her fingertips trace lightly over the back of his hand.

"I'm glad he kept me alive too. I would've hated it if I never saw you again. What are you thinking about?"

He doesn’t have words to tell her because he doesn’t know what he wants or what he needs or even what these feelings are. If there were thoughts there might be words but right now he had none of those either.

He doesn’t pull his hand away when she touches him, it’s like grounding feeling suddenly. If he had logic to the thought it would be obvious, the Red Room had always worked with both reward and punishments in his training. The rewards were small like outside food, like a small touch from someone to say good job, one time he’d had his hair washed for him even. The little bit of teasing humanity that they let him have was always amplified by the touches from Natasha.

It grounds him even to this day.

He rubs at his temples more in desperation, his head becoming worse, as if it really could at all.

He searches for words that aren’t there, before sighing.

“I don’t know, I can’t find words,” he says hesitantly, “I’m confused.”

They've really done a number on him. Especially, it seems, over the last few years. Once she was gone. Again she has to wonder if it would help if she just spilled it all to him all at once but...no. There's too much in his head already. Anything else has to come in its own time. And if there are things that don't make it back, she can be okay with that too.

Maybe not okay with it. But she can live with it if it means he's free.

When he allows the touch to his hand, but seems to rub his temples harder, she slides her hand back. Her fingers curl gentle in his hair, stroking through the strands, her fingertips just brushing lightly over his scalp.

"Let's take it one step at a time. What do you find the most confusing?"

He leans into the touches of her fingers, like it's the first thing he's finding relief in. It feels natural to him, familiar in a way he can't quite place but that doesn't bother him too much in this moment and there's more pressing things on the table.

He slows his rubbing of his temples though in reaction though he doesn't take his hands away yet because it's too hard to look at her with what he says next.

"You." It's a simple statement really, not that complicated at all when it comes to it. Everything about this was confusing a mix of new and old emotions.

"You said you don't need it," which she did, but he might be taking the wrong way in his mind, but he doesn't realize it. "You like it but don't need it. If you don't want me why are you here?"

His voice cracks a little bit as he says it. "To remind me that we had all this, whatever it was, sex, friendship, whatever.." he doesn't even truly understand the amount of emotion that's tied to it in himself yet either. "And then to tell me you don't need it anymore?"

"You don't seem like a cruel person, in my memories, so I don't understand it. It's confusing, maybe I just, don't know how to be a person anymore so it doesn't make sense to me."

This is hard territory to navigate. Even harder than she'd thought it would be, and she'd set the bar pretty high. The way he phrases what's confusing him is heartbreaking, her mouth turning down in a frown as she takes a slow breath. It's such shaky ground. She's used to knowing exactly where she's going to step next, sometimes three or four steps ahead. But there's no map for this.

Her fingers run gently through his hair again. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you think I don't want you. I just - I don't want to put any pressure on you. You have a lot to figure out. Decades worth. All I've ever wanted is for you to be free to make your own choices. What I meant was that any way you are is exactly enough for me. I'm here no matter what."

It's a lot for both of them, and it's obvious.

His breath is shaky as he brings down his face away from his eyes which have just the slightest glint of tears he's holding back. Frustration tears? Emotional ones? Who even knows at this point but he doesn't let them fall, he holds back the emotion the best he can.

"Yes, I like having choices, but sometimes, they're too much?" he half asks, half tells her like he's still working through the explanation. So much about this new world was overwhelming and it was hard enough to have to decide what he wanted to eat, some nights recently he'd just skipped doing it because it was too much to his brain.

"How, what did I -- what did we do when I got overwhelmed in my brain before?" he asks quietly. "I don't want to have to search for what they are or ask, maybe you could, try some of them and I could tell you yes or no? Then it's still my choices?"

He bites his lower lip after he says it, that sounds more attainable to him. "I think I can handle choices between two things, but more then that is too much right now."

Edited 2023-05-27 18:30 (UTC)

Natasha listens as he talks, her fingers filtering out of his hair once he lifts his face from his hands. She lets her hand drop to his shoulder and run down his arm, coming to rest over the back of his hand. Her fingers curl under to give his hand a gentle squeeze.

"I can see how that would be hard," she agrees, her voice thoughtful as she draws the connections in her mind. "Any time we were together before, there was always this - framework around it. The mission would end, or the sun would come up. We always had to go back to the Red Room. There's no framework anymore." She offers an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry if me coming here made things more confusing for you."

She never wants to make things harder for him. So if there's some way to make things easier...she's not entirely sure what will work. Might as well go in with the first thing that comes to mind. "Okay. Try this if you want. I'd ask you to close your eyes, have you take a deep breath. Just focus on what's around you now. What you can smell. What you can hear. We'd do that to try to have something stay in your memory. But it can work to focus too. What's here now is what's real."

He grabs her hand and squeezes it back, tight, but not tight enough to hurt. Holding it close like he was afraid to lose her.

"No." It's a firm statement, like he wants to stop her from even thinking that it was a bad call to come. "I, I want you here. I don't want you to think you shouldn't be here. You're the only one who can understand me right now."

He listens to what she says and does just that. Closing his eyes he takes a deep breath and tries to let his mind open. He stays completely quite for several minutes. "The sound of the dogs collar upstairs every time he moves around. The smell of those fries even long after they cooled down," he flicks his tongue against his lips with a sigh.

"The smell of your shampoo, or hairspray, or whatever it is," he doesn't really understand what all of those things are, but he knows that's one of the scents there.

"Can we...?" He trails off with a sigh letting go of her hand. "I don't like the table between us," he instead says, like stating a problem to be solved is much easier to do then to ask for something. He doesn't seem to like to ask.

Natasha smiles and lets him keep hold of her hand, running her thumb along the back of it in a slow arc. "Hey, don't give me all the credit. You can understand you too. I know you'll get there." She watches his expression, listening patiently as he works his way through the things that come first to his senses. It's a pretty good start, all things considered.

"It's a different shampoo than the one I used to use." Not something she usually thinks to tell people, but she can't be sure what will be hopeful and what won't in this instance.

His hesitant question is met with a look of fond amusement. "Do you want me to come over and sit on a chair next to you or sit in your lap? You can ask, when there's things you want. It's okay to ask. If it's not something I want to do, I'll let you know and we'll figure out something else."

"Yeah I doubt the Red Room was spending a lot on hair care," he says with a playful smile. "I remember cold quick miserable showers."

"It's hard to ask," he explains thinking about what she's offered and he just nods. "I think maybe in my lap? It's hard to know for sure," But the options are helping him anyways and he suddenly wishes there was a couch in this tiny safehouse. It's not much of one compared to the last two places he'd been saying but.

Hey, this one came with Natalia. He pushes back from the table a little bit dropping Nat's hand so he can make space for her on his lap.

"I know you want me to be able to ask for things.. I'll try, Natalia."

"They spent more for the widows to keep up appearances. But there wasn't any joy in it." Natasha likes taking care of herself now that she can do it for herself. She's found products she likes, a preferred water temperature. There's many times that she has to make do when she's on a mission. But it's one of the many things in her life she was glad to claim for herself.

She smiles at him as she stands up and turns easily, sitting down in his lap with her arm around his shoulders. "I want you to get there in your own time, James. Everything takes practice. Be patient with yourself."

When she sits in his lap and her arms go around his shoulders it’s like unlocking something for him. Not in terms of mind memory but in terms of muscle memory.

His face softens as he leans in to lay his head on her shoulder, his arms go around her waist and he closes his eyes and just relaxes into her in a way he didn’t even know was possible.

“This is what I needed,” he says s softly, “this is the first time I’ve felt safe that I can remember since I started getting my memories back.”

She can literally feel the tension seeping out of him as he leans in to her. She brings her other hand up to run over the back of his head and down to the nape of his neck. Her head tips so she can rest her cheek on top of his head as he leans onto his shoulder. She should've known. Simple is always better.

"I'm glad," she answers, gently kneading the muscles at the nape of his neck with her hand. "I know I was holding back before. It's been so long. I was too focused on not overwhelming you. You'd think I'd know better by now. Guess there's still plenty I've got to learn from you, milii moi." There's a hint of humor in her voice, offering a gentle cushion for what she knows is still a very tangled topic.

"'sokay," he murmurs into her shoulder, face still buried like he wasn't going to move anytime soon. Each touch, of her hands melts the tension off. It isn't going to solve the issue of the mess that they had left his brain, but it was taking the tension from his physical body and right in that moment it was more then enough.

"You did good, Natalia..." he reassures her, he doesn't want her to think that she did anything wrong in what she was doing. Hell, he didn't even know what to ask for, how could she have known that the murder machine that was Bucky Barnes wanted cuddles.

"You always do good," he murmurs, the compliments fall off his tongue naturally like they're supposed to be there. So he lets them.

She doesn't have any complaints. He can stay there for as long as he wants. She keeps rubbing the back of his neck until the tension is gone. Then she lets her hand dip down, running over his back in a slow aimless pattern.

She should've known. He was so touch starved those first few times they found to sneak away. It's probably been years since the last time anyone touched him like this. With that thought, her hand comes up from his back to rest on the back of his head as she pulls him in closer.

"Oh, I'm doing a lot better now than I was before," she answers, all light and easy.

He melts more and more and goes quite for a long time, it’s safe and warm and content and home. No one has ever touched him like this, he hadn’t been let out proper like he had previously since her escaped. He came out of cryostasis only for missions then wen right back in, being wiped after each time.

“Did we used to sit like this?” He asks after a good half hour of silence his hands stroking along her back a little bit as it seems like the mess in his head had finally calmed down.

“What did you mean about bette now?” He adds curiously once it’s had time to stew in his head for a bit.

Natasha doesn't mind the quiet. She idly catalogues the room as she leans in to him, her fingers alternately stroking his hair or rubbing over the back of his shoulders. Her thoughts don't really go anywhere in particular - mostly she just reminisces. His first question is met with an agreeable hum. "Yeah. Sometimes I'd be facing you. Or I'd lean on your back with my arms around you."

His second question requires a moment of thought, since there had been a few layers of meaning behind it. "I still do black ops work for SHIELD occasionally. But it's not every mission. And they're not...the same kind of missions we used to go on. So I'm doing better in that respect. And because I know now that you got free."

“I bet you’re great — I’m jealous you already have a partner,” he adds teasingly, there’s not the hostility of when he’d spoken about Clint before. This time it was just gentle. “I remember thinking you were beautiful when you worked, deadly, efficient, elegant..”

Thinking about the question of her work though puts another thought in his head, however. “Do you think you could stay here for a while? Or do you have work you’ve gotta be getting back to?”

He knows Steve has been following him, that he can’t stay long but he doesn’t know if Natasha has been for long or if it’s just a drop in.

"Lucky for you it's not an exclusive work partnership then," Natasha points out, matching his teasing tone. "I have a team I work with too. And sometimes I do solo missions." As Fury likes to say, she's comfortable with everything. That also includes her willingness to be flexible with who she goes into the field with.

Of course, there is one person she always prefers to go in the field with, but that hasn't been an option for many, many years.

His question is met with an easy shrug. "I've been laying low since I burned all my covers dumping SHIELD's files on the internet." Her eyes skim the interior of the run down apartment again. "I can stay. You sure you want to stay here? I can get access to a safe house."

“Tomorrow we can move, tonight, just wanna hold you in our shitty bed again,” he tells her softly, clearly a bit more of the memories around this place has been sinking in. Or maybe he’d just assumed because she said it was going to be their safe house when they got out together.

He was a little pushy, sure. But for some reason he thought she’d be okay with it. Besides, there wasn’t even a hint of sexuality behind any of his movements or motions, it was clearly just emotional touch and physicality he was looking for.

He pulls his head off her should for the first time to look at her. He wants to take in her expression. “I don’t think they’ll ever be able to clear my name, but I wouldn’t mind being your hideout guy, you know for whenever you find your way to Europe. Just, stay with me a while first,” he adds.

Natasha absolutely doesn't mind the way he phrases it. She can tell there's nothing suggestive behind it, it's pure sentimentality. Which means that there are more stones turning over now that he's let his body relax and his mind slow down a little. "Sounds like some of those choices are coming easier, hmm?" There's a hint of her suppressed smile in her voice. "I'd like that."

When he lifts his head, she meets his eyes, her fingertips moving to brush some hair back from his forehead. She looks thoughtful and maybe a little amused. "Steve Rogers won't rest until your name is cleared." He'd probably go to jail for Bucky if there was any chance in hell the powers that be would allow it. "You can be my hideout guy until then."

It’s like he’s got all these faucets in his brain, blocked by things, just leaking tiny bits at a time. Then Natasha is holding him and it’s like the object holding that stream back has been taken away and he’s being flooded comparatively.

“Steve was always kind of an idiot,” he chuckles and leans in to press a kiss to her cheek. It’s just another sign of affection between them. It’s not that the feelings are platonic but the actions, that’s all they’re ready to be for now.

“Oh, I like it when you call me your guy. I like that a lot,” he tells her reassuringly. “I still don’t wanna make food choices though, just, choices that have to do with my favorite girl, they really called you Winter’s Widow huh?”

It was another stone turned over. This time the rooms nickname for her because he always asked for her on assignments when he needed a second. Insisting she was the best — she was.

"Yeah, but you can't deny that his heart is always in the right place," Natasha answers. "Even when it's inconvenient." Bringing down the tangled mess of HYDRA and SHIELD had been like a speed run on a trust exercise. She's worked with a lot of people over the years and not many of them would make the choices Steve had without flinching or hesitating. It's a nice reminder of why she's still doing this after so many years.

Her mouth quirks to the side and she traces her fingers down along his jaw. "I'm impressed that came up in your memories already. They did, in the Red Room." Her eyes skim his for a moment before she continues. "I haven't told Steve yet. Once I realized that you were his best friend. I figured you deserved to have a say in how that conversation goes, when you're ready for it."

“Oh, he’s got the best heart,” he says watching her eyes he leans into her fingers nodding. “I’m glad you were there with him, to help him — I can’t imagine how hard it was on both of you,” he says and he means it. A hint of guilt maybe sure, but more so happy that the two of them weren’t alone.

“I’m glad you didn’t fall for him though, all the girls, used to fall for him after the serum. It’s like I turned invisible after that when we were together.” It’s another memory that seems to have found its way back at some point or another and he just squeezes her hips. “You could have told him, I never would have been mad at you for it — but god. This is gonna … it’s gonna piss him off, that he didn’t know.”

"First time we fought together I had him launch me off his shield at an alien," Natasha answers, her mouth twitching as she tries not to laugh at the memory. She's pretty sure that cemented their willingness to fight together. But the trust didn't really sink in until they were on the run from HYDRA. "He makes a compelling case. And I really didn't like that I traded the Red Room for HYDRA."

Despite her efforts, she can't help but laugh a little at the idea of falling for Steve. "He's not my type." She lets her fingers curl through his hair again as he squeezes her hips, and shakes her head when he says Steve's going to be pissed off. "He's going to be happy for you, that you weren't alone all that time. He'll be mad at me for not telling him right away. I'll bring him around."

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