brushpass | threads

Oh, she's definitely still into it. She's pretty confident she'd still be into it no matter what shape he was in. Her mouth curls into a fond little smile at his question. "You wouldn't look lame with your hair up. I'd say a bun or a ponytail are more common for men, but I can put a braid in it somewhere if you want one. You can pull it off."

She laughs quietly as he holds his arms out and rotates her index finger in the air, gesturing for him to do a spin. "I don't know if it's the metal arm. You have muscular shoulders. If I got a bigger size for your shoulders, the shirt would've been looser on your torso. I can get something tailored for you though if you're not comfortable."

At his question, she gives him an assessing once over and then nods her approval. "You're a 10."

He gives the spin she asks for and moves over to the couch she's on and climbs right into her lap, legs straddling on each side, only putting some of his weight on her his hands going up to each of her cheeks. "You, my darling, are full of shit, but I will take that compliment any day of the week," he says and gives her a soft kiss on her lips.

"Okay well then, a bun or a ponytail is fine," he adds with a dumb smile, it's a good day. It's easy to tell when he's having a good brain day, everything is lighter, brighter and he's more likely to just give answers without having to think on them at all.

He doesn't mind the tight shirts, so long as Natasha thinks he looks good in them.

"I just want you to think I look good in them," he says honestly.

Natasha looks surprised when he climbs into her lap, but she's still smiling. Her hands rest on his sides for a moment as his frame her face, and she feigns an indignant look. "Wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it." Her hands slide up along his back as she tips her head to return the kiss.

She can tell he's in a good space, and she's glad that she had the idea to come somewhere without strong memories tied to it. It's nice to see him feeling more at ease in his own skin. Even though she knows there will still be bumps in the road. This will be a good stretch for him to look back on, to know that it's possible.

"I think you look great in them," she answers, leaning up so she can press a kiss on his jaw. "Come on, sit on the couch. I'll do your hair a few different ways and you can decide what you like."

He can’t help but protest the idea of getting off her lap by by giving her a slow, playful kiss before he slides off her and moves to sit on the couch on his own so she can try the hair for him. “This works but I have one condition,” he says settling in to have his hair worked with.

“It’s a simple request, really- when we come back from exploring town later today I wanna make out like teenagers,” he tells her with a smirk.

There’s millions of things he doesn’t know, and hasn’t learned, but he knows that kissing her always feels good and well, he’s been thinking about making out proper since he woke up with her on his chest and looked so perfect and like his.

"Oh, specifically like teenagers?" she asks with a smirk, her fingertips running lightly down along his jaw as she leans back from that slower kiss. "Maybe I'll let you get to second base if you play your cards right." She offers him a playful wink as she gets up.

Moving her suitcase on top of his, she opens it up and gets a brush and hair elastic out from the bag of toiletries. She rests them on the back of the couch as she gets behind it. Her fingers run through his hair carefully a few times, just getting a feel for how long it is.

"I can put a braid along here if you do a ponytail," she suggests, her fingertips running along the side of his head. "Or one up along the back if I put it in a bun. Want to try them both and see what you like better?"

He laughs at that suggestion of second base smiling dumbly at her as he watches her move around. Even just this fresh out of bed early morning version of Natasha is breathtaking. How is he even supposed to think about anything except making out honestly is what he wants to say but he doesn't he just teases her right back.

"Yeah well, you know. You're with a 100 year old man, in our day that's what we used to do a lot. Just a lot of making out for a very long time," he says reflecting on some more of his memories.

When she suggests things he can't honestly even imagine what they might look like so he shrugs. "Yeah do what you think looks good, and I'll let you know what I like when we try it out?" he suggests. "I really just want it up out of my face."

"Hmm, what was that you said about your face being my favorite seat?" she asks pointedly, leaning down and over his shoulder with a grin as her hand runs back through his hair. "That innocent 'back in my day' routine won't work on me." Chuckling, she turns her head to kiss his temple and straightens back up.

"I want it to be something you like too. So let's try the ponytail first and then we'll do the bun and you can decide which you like better. Or if you want the braid in it or not." Picking up the brush, she starts to run it through his hair, taking her time to do it gently so she can get his hair away from his face. "You could think about cutting it too, when you're ready."

He leans back into the kiss of the temple just a bit like he's craving the attention but then settles for her to let her give his hair some attention. "Look just because I have lots of memories having sex with you that keep unlocking in my brain, it's not really the same is it?" he's challenging her on her own statements of that it's okay and he can take as long as she needs, but this is mostly teasing for him, he's smiling and it's all in good fun.

"Are you going to think I'm handsome with short hair? I'm pretty sure all the photos I've seen in the stuff from the history books online I had short hair," he says with a chuckle, "You know, as men did in my day..."

"I don't really remember a ton about what Steve was looking like when I was fighting him, is he Mr. Clean Cut Americana still?" he asks her curiously.

"I know. Just teasing you," she answers warmly, one hand dropping to give his shoulder a quick squeeze. There's no expectations. Just a bit of humor, to counterbalance all the heavy things he still has left to uncover. It's interesting to hear that he's been looking himself up in the history books. And honestly, not a bad place to start. Setting the brush down, she separates some of the hair off to the side so she can carefully braid it.

"Darling, you'd still be handsome if you were completely bald." Once the braid is finished, she tucks it behind his ear and sweeps it up with the rest of his hair as she navigates it into a bunch. The hair tie comes next, twisting around his hair until its secure. "He's still clean shaven. I think his hair is still cut to military regulations too. I can't picture him with a beard. Go take a look at this hair and see if you like it."

He smiles at the teasing, amused at the ability to imagine just what Steve looks like by Natasha’s description. He’s seen photos of his Captain America suit in the papers, it’s different then the old one but looks good too. He gets up to go take a look at his had and runs a hand over it with a nod in the mirror. It’s nice to get it out of his face, feels good.

He leaves the bathroom and comes back to Natasha pulling her up to stand and into his arms. “You know this is gonna be the end game right, me and you? It’ll just take time, but I know you’re my girl,” he tells her all soft and charming. It’s all so different sounding in English too, like a new promise.

“We should send a photo of us to Steve later, I want him to see what a hot red head I landed.”

Natasha runs the brush through her own hair while Bucky is in the bathroom, leaning on the back of the couch. She smiles at him when he comes back in and lets him pull her in, her hands running up his chest. The smile softens as she listens to him, one of her hands moving up to cradle his chin. "It was always going to be you, you know." There's no chance she ever would have stopped looking for him. Any relationship she's been in has been measured against what she has with him and it always falls short.

She playfully pats his cheek before hooking her arm around his shoulders, feigning a surprised look when he says he wants to send a photo to Steve. "I thought you were supposed to be my arm candy with the new outfit and everything. I think he'd like that, though. If you like your hair like that, I'll go get ready."

He melts a little bit when she says it was always going to be him, it was just days ago he had all the weird feelings of jealousy, yet somehow here they are settling in and feeling like forever to him. When she confirms it he can’t help but lean in and give her lips a soft peck.

“My darling…” he says softly in Russian again before going right back to English. “Gonna need English pet names for you too. But they don’t sound right yet…”

He shakes his head. “Can be your arm candy in front of anyone but Steve.” He lets her go and pats her hip. “Go get ready, this is just fine for my hair too.”

He’s been having guilt about not talking to Steve yet recently so he thought the photo might help release some of that anxiety.

"See? Pet names are harder in English." She's not sure if Russian is a more romantic language than English or if it's just because English has raided so many pockets for grammar that it's more patchwork. She smooths the shirt down over his shoulders as she steps back, giving him an amused look when he says he can't be her arm candy in front of Steve. "Try the jacket on while I'm getting ready."

Natasha takes her suitcase into the bedroom with her, and makes a side trip to the bathroom to freshen up and do her makeup as she considers her option. The French have a very particular sense of style, and she knows the best way to blend in is by matching that style. When she emerges from the bedroom again, she's wearing a fitted pair of jeans, black ankle boots, and a silky black top. The chain of her lariat necklace is visible around her neck as she shrugs on a long tan blazer. "So, are you ready to find some bread?"

When she talks about pet names it's a thought for the first time about what language they're speaking in general and it makes him realize that maybe they should have a conversation about that at some point.

He puts on the jacket right away then decides to take it off until Natasha is closer to being ready, because it just feels strange sitting around in the jacket. He tugs on some socks and then just zones out, getting lost in his own head while he waits for her to come back out. When she does he can't help but get the dumbest smile on his face though.

"Well you look gorgeous," he says, eyes looking her up and down like he's never seen anything so pretty. Of course, he somehow looks at her like that all the time, you'd think he'd eventually get used to her but somehow he never does. He stands and pulls on his leather jacket so that she can see it on him, it fits well and is comfortable, he likes it.

"Bread sounds good," he says. "What's our cover? What are our personas here incase we get asked anything?"

"Your opinion is biased," Natasha informs him with a smile, "but still appreciated. Thank you." She nods in approval when he puts the leather jacket on and crosses the room so she can straighten the collar for him. She had a feeling he'd miss having a leather.

"American tourists," she answers, hand patting against his chest before she steps back so she can go over to the kitchen counter. Opening the manila envelope there, she pulls out a wallet and hands it to him, followed by some of the cash. "ID's in the wallet," she tells him as she takes out the second wallet and tucks another portion of cash into it. "The IDs have the same address on it, so we can say we're dating. Your cover's a mechanic. Mine's a teacher."

"You're too pretty to be a school teacher.." he laughs and takes the wallet glancing at the ID. "Really? My name is Nick?" he asks rolling his eyes at her and then tugs her a little closer. "Do I look like a Nick?"

He doesn't know why that sounds weird to him, maybe because it's the first time even using American names for himself that he could remember. He hadn't had to do the spy bullshit before he'd fallen off the train. "And what's my girlfriends name? Ms. Too Pretty?"

His hands stroke up her sides slipping a thumb under the shirt to brush against her skin in a playful way. He clearly isn't upset by any of this, and is just having a good time with her. Hell, he's pretty sure if she really wanted to mess with him the fake ID would have said Steve.

"Pretty people can be teachers, James," Natasha answers with a smirk. There's a glimmer of amusement in her eyes when he says his name is Nick. Looks like her contact found his sense of humor. "I didn't pick the names. Maybe a Nicholas." Covers can be hard to get used to. Hopefully they won't have to use them too much.

Reaching up, her hand rests on the side of his face, her thumb running along his cheekbone as his hands brush her sides. "Jennifer Mason," she answers. "It's a new cover for me. I burned all of mine when we brought down HYDRA."

“Jennifer, I have to warn you,” he teases as he leans into her palm, it feels good to be touched like that, in any way. “If you keep looking this hot I’m going to have to make a not very proper or school teacher like lady out of you later tonight.”

He winks. He can’t help it really, he’s been feeling so good today that every desire to flirt and be playful that’s been boiling up in his brain is starting to come out.

He turns his face into her palm to give it a kiss before reaching up to take it and pulling away. “So we’re lovers on vacation for a few weeks, enjoying our summer off. At least I get to do something cool like a mechanic.”

"Well I hate to break it to you Nicholas, but I'm already not a proper lady. So your plans for later are going to have to be mutual." She punctuates the thought with grin, her hand trailing over his shoulder as she grabs the keys from the counter.

"Speaking of being a cool mechanic..." The keys dangle from her fingers as she gives them a little shake. "We've got a motorcycle. If you want to drive into the center of town we can walk around there."

"Oh damn, come on.. sounds fun," He says and takes the keys from her before grabbing a gun off the counter and tucking it into one of his many hidden holsters because he has probably a few too many to count and makes sure it's concealed well before thinking they should head out the door.

He stops before actually opening it though. "We should take the photo to send to Steve in here though, so there's no outside distinguishable landmarks or whatever." It's not that he doesn't trust Steve, it's just that he doesn't trust who might get ahold of Steve's phone.

Natasha smiles to herself as he takes the keys and grabs a gun. It doesn't surprise her that he's excited about the motorcycle - but she is glad that he's letting himself express that excitement. She already armed herself when she got dressed with her typical array of electric darts, knives, and spy gadgetry.

"Not a bad idea," she agrees, because she absolutely doesn't trust Steve to not happily open the picture somewhere public. He's learned a lot over the last year but he still doesn't really think clearly when it comes to the re-appearance of his best friend. Natasha eyes the living room and beckons him to follow her over to a bare patch of wall painted a neutral enough eggshell white. "Get in close," she instructs as she gets her phone out and turns the camera on. "I promise I won't bite unless you ask," she concludes, turning her head to give him a mischievous grin.

He is going to make himself very welcome at that and steps right behind her so that he can lean in over her shoulder, leaning his head into hers a little bit to clearly express some of the romance in their relationship. Why? Well, he thinks it'll be easier to warm Steve up in this way and he waits for her to take the photo.

"Can I type out the text?" He asks curiously leaning against the wall after before taking the phone. He dictates it once he's done typing. "Isn't she the prettiest thing you've ever seen? -B" he says not hitting send and handing the phone back over to Natasha.

Natasha leans into him when he stands behind her, tilting her head toward his, a small smile lingering on her lips. She looks at the phone and takes the picture, then adds it to a text. "Sure," she answers with a shrug as she hands the phone over to him. Waiting with her arms folded, she watches as he types something out.

When he reads it out loud, she rolls her eyes fondly. "Sap," she says as she presses send. She turns the phone off and tucks it into the pocket of her blazer. Moving back over to him, her hand slides down his arm so she can take his hand. "Come on, let's go check out that bike."

"I'm not a sap -- you just are gorgeous, plus then I don't gotta answer weird questions.." he grumbles taking the bike keeps and squeezing her hand as they head out of the apartment to find the bike which is simple enough to do. He hops on and lets her get on holding her before they go for a drive to town, taking a bit of the long way as he just enjoys the comfort of the bike in the wet spring morning.

Once they park in town he can't help but give her another dumb smile, it's nice enjoying every bit of it.

"You picked a good vacation spot you know, lots of nice things to experience to get away from the stress of every day life at the shop for me," he compliments her, of course he means the town in general, getting away from the memories, but he's linking it all into their covers.

"He'll refrain from asking questions for a bit if you ask him to." Natasha makes the point mildly, just offering it as something for him to think about. He's going to want to talk to Steve at some point. She figures she can help smooth out the road a bit. Getting on the bike behind him, she wraps her arms around his mid-section and leans against his back. The last time she'd been on a bike with him, she'd been facing backwards, firing a gun at the wheels of a car pursuing them. She smiles a little at the memory.

All things considered, touring a quiet town in coastal France is a better use of a motorcycle.

She points out a parking spot over his shoulder as they get closer to the center of town, and hops off the back of the bike once he's parked it. Smiling at him, she reaches up to touch the side of his face. It's easy to read between the lines. "I had a feeling we'd like being somewhere neither of us have been before. Wanna put your arm around me?" she offers impishly. "We can walk until we find something that smells good."

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