A/N

This is what you came for.

xNoelle

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0 6

г р у з о в о й   в а г о н

(freight car)

IF LOOKS COULD kill, the Black Widow would've been six-feet underground by now.

Instead, she smirked, unfazed by Bucky's glare. He spun the knife to point it in her direction, then angled his body to shield Dakota from her.

"Dakota," he said quietly, holding her gently by the elbows as though he was afraid that she'd run away. Mostly, Dakota was just trying to catch another glimpse of the infamous Black Widow over his shoulder, but she stilled when she saw the worry in Bucky's eyes. "That never happened, моя любовь, you have to believe me."

Dakota didn't miss the way the other woman's eyebrows shot up at his Russian. She didn't understand it, but it was clear that the Black Widow did. Dakota pulled away the knife from Bucky's hand and smiled reassuringly at him. "I believe you," She told him softly, just as the redhead took a firm step forward.

"Well – ," the woman started nonchalantly, shrugging when Bucky let out a low, warning sound from the back of his throat, looking like he was tethering on the edge of his patience. She ignored him and held out a hand to Dakota. " – we were in a fight and, in my defence, he was trying to kill me."

Bucky shot her another glare over his shoulder, his metal arm wrapped securely around Dakota's waist to prevent her from coming into contact with the other woman. "I'll do it again and succeed this time if you don't shut up," he growled, only to falter when Dakota placed a palm on his chest, easing him aside gently.

"It's okay," she said quietly, before stepping closer and taking the woman's hand in a steady grasp, offering her a bright smile. "I'm Dakota. It's nice to meet you."

"Natasha Romanoff." The woman shook her hand, and the smirk on her face faded to a soft smile. "And again, there was nothing between me and him. I can assure you, my legs were never wrapped around his neck apart from that fight."

"Yes, but her legs were definitely wrapped around many other men's necks," quipped a familiar voice from the doorway. Sam was grinning widely; while Steve, who was standing beside him, looked so appalled that it was almost impossible not to laugh at him.

Natasha shot Sam a glare, before she turned back to Dakota and squeezed her hand. "Nothing happened," she insisted. "It's nice to finally meet you. I was surprised when I tracked Steve's coordinates to this location. But then I found out Sam knew you, and the rest fell into place."

"Wait." Steve shot her an incredulous look. "You knew where I was the whole time?"

Natasha looked at him flatly. "I'm a spy. It's my job to know things. I've no doubt Stark and the others know where you are too." Her words made Bucky stiffen, his hands instinctively tightening around Dakota's waist as he drew her closer to his side. Natasha immediately noticed and rolled her eyes. "Please. If anything, it's Stark who's probably keeping your location safe from the authorities."

"Are we going to stand here all day inflating Tony's already bursting-to-the-brim ego?" Sam grumbled. "Because I called Romanoff here to discuss our plans on tracking down Zemo."

"I'll make breakfast while you guys discuss," Dakota offered. Steve tried to protest, but she handed him his mug and waved him and Sam out of the kitchen. When they left, she turned to the redhead. "Do you drink coffee or tea, Natasha?"

Natasha crinkled her nose for a moment before shaking her head, her lips quirking up in a wry smile. "Neither. Do you have chocolate milk?"

Dakota pointed to the fridge. "Bottom shelf."

The redhead sidestepped Bucky and pulled open the fridge door, eyes brightening when she saw the carton of chocolate milk. She grabbed it, along with the cup that Dakota held out to her. "My day's been made," she drawled, nodding gratefully at Dakota before striding out of the kitchen, casually tossing over her shoulder, "Keep it PG-13, kids."

"Won't you be joining them?" Dakota asked Bucky, when it was just the two of them left.

He shook his head at her question, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he stepped closer to her. "Would rather spend all day in here with you, doll."

She felt a flutter in her chest but ignored it for awhile, opening a fresh box of croissants and sticking them in the toaster. She had, after all, promised the others breakfast. "So," She started lightly, when Bucky leaned against the counter to help her. "моя любовь." The words were unfamiliar on her tongue but she recalled it because he'd said it earlier. Bucky immediately stilled. "What does that mean?"

The tension dissipated from his shoulders within seconds, and then one corner of his lips was tilting up in a smirk. "Guess you'll have to figure that one out for yourself, милая."

"Now you're just mocking me."

He surprised her when he laughed; a throaty, low chuckle that made a shiver race down her spine at the sound of it. She didn't think she'd ever seen him that relaxed before, his eyes bright with barely-concealed mirth as he gazed down at her, and not in the stiff, rigid way he usually held himself as he leaned back against the counter now.

"You called me Dakota earlier," she observed at last, her curiosity surfacing as she thought back to the conversation earlier, when Natasha, Sam and Steve were in the kitchen with them. It hadn't hit her till now, but she suddenly realised that he'd never used the nickname that Sam and most people she knew usually gave her. "Does that mean you finally see a difference between me and that girl you knew called Dot?"

A little unconventional, she supposed, considering how straightforward she was being by asking him this. And her question had definitely taken him by surprise, if the way he suddenly froze was any indication at all. But she'd always been wondering. There was a thin line between liking her and latching onto her because she was familiar, and Dakota had always feared she was treading in the waters of the latter.

"There's always been a difference," Bucky shook his head, his hair falling into his face and he pushed it out of his eyes almost impatiently. His blue eyes met her gaze steadily, but there wasn't a trace of his playful smirk or glimmer of teasing. "She's in the past," he said quietly. "And you're – you're – "

He paused, swallowing as the words somehow seemed to fail him. But the sudden sound of footsteps made him glance up, his posture stiffening again.

Sam entered the kitchen, the expression on his face so ridiculously demure that Dakota couldn't help but roll her eyes. "Pardon me," he said smoothly, smirking when he saw the taut frustration on Bucky's face. "I know we're not supposed to disturb a ninety-year old man when he's trying to get some – "

Dakota bit her lip to keep from laughing when Bucky's glare deepened.

" – but Natasha needs chocolate and Steve wanted to wish you kids good luck," Sam continued innocently, lowering his head as he stared into the fridge, taking a deliberately long time to locate a bar of chocolate. "And I was just being insatiably curious."

If Sam mocked Bucky a second longer, Dakota was certain there'd be a dead bird in her home within the next ten minutes. She sidled over to Bucky, catching him by surprise when she slipped her hand through his metal one and gave his fingers a fleeting squeeze. "Take as long as you need to figure it out," she said quietly, smiling when he looked at her. "And when you do, don't forget to ask me out for coffee."

Bucky frowned, looking so adorably confused for a moment that her smile instinctively widened. He unconsciously returned the pressure on her hand, intertwining his fingers through hers. "Why can't we have coffee here?"

It was obvious that Sam had heard them both loud and clear, because he promptly broke off in a coughing fit that he desperately tried to smother by huddling closer to the fridge. Dakota simply laughed and reached for the plate of buttered croissants, giving the coughing Sam two pats on his back as she made her way out of the kitchen.

She was still within earshot when she heard Sam let out a snort of laughter behind her as he turned to Bucky. "You've been in cryo for way too long, man."

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Natasha ended up staying over.

It was just like that kitten Steve had saved all over again, as Bucky kept a firm distance from Natasha, glaring at her like she was the bane of his existence. Natasha revelled in his hostility, making exaggerated movements by reaching for her gun every time she walked past him. Sam joked that Bucky would probably try to drown Natasha too, if he could catch her.

So Steve, in a vain attempt to maintain the sliver of peace in the apartment, dragged both Bucky and Sam out of the house to do some additional security checks within the vicinity. Meanwhile, Natasha had made a big show of laying out her weapons on the coffee table, checking each one of them with meticulous diligence, until she noticed Dakota raiding the storeroom in search for the makeshift bed. Before long, the two of them had cleared out the study to make space for the makeshift bed. Natasha was strong, efficient and a strategic-planner; and while this wasn't a battlefield, she definitely helped speed up the process.

"I don't think I remember the last time I did something so trivial like changing pillow sheets," Natasha mused, roughly yanking off the old cover on Sam's pillow and tossing it aside.

Dakota smiled wryly. "Well, you know, trivial day-to-day excitement like this really gets your blood pumping."

"I know you're just humouring me, but it's not too far from the truth," Natasha said, straightening and glancing around the apartment with an unusually pensive look on her face. "I can see why the boys stayed here for so long. It's incredibly peaceful and quiet. And I think that for people like Steve and Barnes, with all their old-fashioned notions, it's what they miss most."

"It's not too difficult a place to have if you look hard enough. Find a place out in the suburbs and just head back into the city when you're needed. Isn't that what Steve used to do?"

"But that's Steve. Deep down he's still that skinny kid from Brooklyn who wanted to settle down and lead a boring married life with three kids, a dog and a picket fence," Natasha gave a dramatic mock-shudder and shook her head. "No, it's different when you've got red on your ledger and sleep with weapons under your pillow. No matter how normal a place you live in, you're not."

"Then maybe it's the people you live with."

Natasha shot her a calculative look, which cleared just as rapidly when Dakota began to look confused. She hadn't meant it in any other way than the way she said it – that the people they lived with made all the difference in the world; but it was clear that Natasha thought she was implying something else altogether.

And when Natasha finally spoke, there was an unexpected shade of vulnerability in her voice. "The only person I want to live with has disappeared from my radar," she said quietly, averting her eyes from Dakota and busying herself with stripping the bedspread from Steve's mattress. "He's the only one I can't find no matter how hard I try."

Dakota still couldn't wrap her head around the fact that the Black Widow was in her home, let alone the fact that the woman seemed to trust her simply because the others clearly did. She smoothened out the creases on the new pillowcase she'd just changed for Bucky and let out a soft exhale. "In Greek mythology, it took Odysseus ten years to fight the battle at Troy and another ten years to return home to Penelope. All compasses point North and all sailors steer their ships back to port eventually. He'll return to you, no matter how long it takes."

Natasha didn't say a word for a long while. She kept her head lowered and pretended to fidget with the corners of the duvet. Dakota watched her for a moment and finally cleared her throat. Natasha quickly looked up, and Dakota tossed her a fresh pillow cover that she caught easily.

"You're welcome to stay for as long as you want," Dakota added.

Natasha nodded and focused on fixing the casing over the new pillow. "It means my love," she said, after a few seconds. Dakota stared at her in confusion and she hastened to explain, "моя любовь? It means my love in Russian. Metal-Arm earlier was trying to woo you, bringing out the big guns with that confession."

Dakota blinked. She'd imagined that he was calling her one of his usual charming terms, but never in a million years would she have guessed that. She felt that familiar thrill race down her spine, but it was somewhat different this time, settling in her stomach and spreading through her like a warm glow. She glanced over at Natasha and smiled. "Thank you."

"No problem. Anytime Romeo says something in Russian, you come to me and I'll be more than happy to be your translator."

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The apartment was always chillier during winter. Tonight was no different. Dakota woke with goosebumps prickling her skin, and she realised that the heater must've gone off again. She climbed out of bed and tugged on her night-robe. When she opened the door, soft snores emanated from the living room and she shook her head.

Definitely Sam.

The night was cold and she figured that if she was pretty much freezing, the others were no different. The door to Natasha's room was closed, so she couldn't tell. But even Steve was cold, despite the super-soldier serum, and one glance over at him made her realise that her suspicions were right. He was lying curled up in foetal position on the mattress beside the coffee table, while his blanket was draped over Sam, who'd probably stolen it sometime during the night. Even Bucky didn't have a blanket – again stolen by Sam; although he seemed impervious to the cold as he slept shirtless with his jacket left unzipped.

She narrowed her eyes at Sam, then headed for the storeroom. The spare blankets she'd kept there should come in useful at a time like this. She picked up a chair and climbed it, gripping the shelf for better leverage.

She pushed herself up on the tips of her toes to reach for the blankets on the highest shelf, instinctively tightening her grip on the cupboard when the chair tipped forward slightly. A firm arm wrapped around her waist just a split second before she could lose her balance altogether, and then she caught the familiar flash of silver under the dim light as Bucky pulled her down from the chair so that she was standing on levelled ground once again.

"Trying to get yourself killed, doll?" He whispered, his breath hot on her ear and sending an involuntary shiver down her spine.

"No." She let out a small laugh. His body warmth was a startling contrast to his cold metal arm wrapped around her waist. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"You didn't. I don't sleep much."

She frowned. "You were awake the whole time?"

"Mm. Really enjoyed the way you were staring at me earlier."

"I wasn't – I wasn't staring at you," She mumbled weakly, trying and failing to hide the blush that rose to her cheeks when he let out a low, throaty laugh, pressing his lips to the side of her forehead. His lips were hot on her skin, and for a moment, he was all she could think of. "I was just wondering whether you were cold."

"Cold's good. Keeps my mind alert. Helps me think."

"Yes, but look at you. You're freezing." She slid her hands up his arms, then hesitated when he stilled under her touch. His eyes had fallen shut; dark lashes fanning out against angular cheekbones. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, just – " He let out a quiet breath and slowly opened his eyes. His gaze travelled down to where her fingers were clutching his metal arm, and when she self-consciously tried to pull away, he quickly placed his other hand over hers, keeping her firmly in place. " – I don't feel much on this arm," he said quietly, keeping his gaze fixed on where her hand lay in contact with the metal. "I just – sometimes, I think I can almost feel you."

"Really?" Unable to help her curiosity, she trailed her hand down his arm to his fingers. She held his palm up, then pressed hers against his. His metal hand seemed to engulf hers whole. "What do you feel now?"

"Slight pressure. I've always felt varying amounts of pressure. Now it's less." His eyes were fixed on their hands. He shifted a little, so that his fingers intertwined with hers. "This is more."

"Do you feel small amounts of heat?"

"Heat?"

"Yes." She drew his hand up to her cheek. He didn't resist. He seemed more than willing to maximise their contact, and she instinctively leaned into his touch. "Can you feel this?"

He swallowed, moving his fingers slightly so that she could feel the light pressure of his hand on her face. "I wish I could," He said quietly, lowering his thumb to trace the contours of her lower lip, and she tried to fight the urge to let her eyes flutter shut because his touch was the kind of addiction she didn't think she could ever get enough of. "Sometimes," he continued, an almost bitter edge in his voice now, "I think Hydra refused to include any additional sensors on my old arm just so I'd feel less of a human. More of a killing machine."

Her chest twisted at his words. She reached for his other hand and held it to her cheek. For a moment, he only stared at her with an inexplicable expression on his face. She couldn't help wonder what he saw when he looked at her.

"Metal or not," she started softly, curling her fingers gently around his arms as she met his gaze squarely, "it doesn't make a difference to me."

He dragged in a sharp breath, his eyes falling shut for a moment as he leaned closer, tipping his head down so that his forehead was resting against hers. And when he opened his eyes again, the blue in his irises were of the darkest intensity but his gaze was soft. He looked at her like she was the only person in the whole damn world who mattered and, for a moment, she was breathless.

"никогда не оставляй меня (never leave me)," he whispered, cradling her face gently in his hands as he lowered his head, pressing his lips to hers.

It wasn't a shy or light kiss by any means. And all Dakota could think of at that moment was how he kissed her like he'd been waiting for years to finally do what he'd done. It didn't make sense, but it was in the way he kissed her – how it wasn't precise or methodical; but unsteady, passionate, desperate. He stole her breath over and over again as he kissed her, catching her lower lip between both of his, a hint of his tongue skimming her lips that made her shiver as he threaded the fingers of his right hand through her hair, his other hand sliding down her back to pull her flush against him.

She felt her stomach tighten deliciously when she felt the length of him hard and demanding against her, and she reached up, sliding her hands up his chest, feeling the ridges of his muscles tense beneath her fingertips and the way he involuntarily shivered, pressing firmly into her touch. And when she kissed him back with equal fervour, opening her mouth to let him in, a low groan wrenched itself from his throat and he tightened his grip around her, his metal arm encasing her in a way that felt oddly comforting, and his tongue sweeping into her mouth as he kissed her thoroughly.

Her mind, her senses, her entire being felt engulfed by him. It was impossible to resist. She leaned into him, teasing him with her tongue. Heat curled in her stomach when he groaned his approval. His fingers trailed up her side, scorching fire on her skin in their wake.

But the moment was broken when there was a shuffle by the doorway. Dakota was the first to pull back, while Bucky swore quietly, before burying his face into her neck for a moment as he dragged in a deep breath. For a moment, it almost seemed like he was trying to get drunk on her scent as he breathed her in. Then he reluctantly straightened, keeping his arms looped around her waist and throwing his deadliest glare at the person standing outside.

Sam, on the other hand, simply blinked dazedly. "I'm sorry, I thought the bathroom was here," He mumbled, his eyes heavy-lidded with sleep, but Dakota knew him well enough to detect that glimmer of mischief under that faux-innocence he carried.

She quirked her lips up in a wry smile as she surveyed him. She'd get him tomorrow. Probably put salt instead of sugar into his coffee or something. "Oh, sure. And what exactly do you want, Sam?"

"Well, at the expense of cock-blocking an old man who finally gets some after seventy years, I was hoping I could get some blankets. Because it's cold and not all of us have, you know, someone to heat us up."

Bucky shot him another frosty look and eased her aside, still keeping one arm around her waist as he pulled down a stack of blankets with the other. "I don't have to be the Winter Soldier to kill you, Wilson," He growled, roughly pushing Sam aside as he led Dakota out of the storeroom.

"My apologies, man," Sam murmured to Bucky, trying and failing to stifle a smirk. "And congratulations on finally getting some. Though not much as you were probably hoping for, but it's a lot better than being stuck in cryo, and speaking of Winter Soldiers – "

Bucky shut him up by shoving a blanket at him, before guiding Dakota out into the living room, where he suddenly paused. It was clear that Steve had heard at least the latter parts of their conversation, because he was caught in a fit of silent laughter as he lay on his mattress, his face almost red from the sheer effort of keeping his laughter in.

And then there was a loud thud on the shut door to the study as Natasha hurled something at it. "It's two in the damn morning!" She hollered from inside. "Invite me if there's a slumber party going on; but if it's Winter and Summers finally working through their sexual tension, stuff a sock into Sam's mouth and let me sleep!"

Steve laughed even harder at that and Bucky threw two blankets at his face in exasperation. He looked so torn between frustration and embarrassment that Dakota almost felt bad for him. Good-natured ribbing was something she was used to – after all, she was friends with Sam; but Bucky clearly wasn't comfortable with any of that, except for when it came from Steve, probably.

Steve noticed too and quickly stopped laughing, exchanging an amused glance with Dakota before easing back down on his pillow. "We should get some sleep," He stated mildly, his voice diffusing the uneasiness rapidly as Sam nodded, clearly picking up on Steve's subtle warning and knowing where to draw the line.

"Yeah, okay," Sam trudged over and collapsed in a sleepy huddle on the mattress adjacent to Steve's. "See you all in the morning, guys."

That left Bucky and Dakota, and she waited to pick up on cues to see where to go from here. He was clearly uncomfortable with Steve and Sam in the same room, so he tugged her aside, drawing her to the narrower hallway that led to her room before pausing. His arm was still wrapped securely around her waist and he lowered his head, bringing his lips close to her ear in a way that made her shiver.

And when he spoke, his voice so low that she knew it was only meant for her to hear. The others wouldn't be able to catch it no matter how much they strained their ears. "Sleep well, моя любовь."

Dakota watched him, puzzled for a moment when she saw him step firmly away from her. Every bit of his body language screamed reluctance, from the way his eyes scanned her face one last time to the way he slowly drew his arm away from her, as if the mere action alone pained him.

It wasn't along the lines of him leaving for good – it couldn't be. After Natasha had cleared her confusion up for her earlier, the Russian words he'd spoken had taken on a whole new meaning and she'd finally pieced them together, realising where he'd been pointing the signs to all along. So this was something else, and when she felt him nudge her towards her bedroom door, she figured that this was his way of drawing firm boundaries in places where he thought she wanted.

"Are you going back out to the living room to stare at the ceiling all night again?" She asked lightly, keeping her voice quiet so as not to wake the others. He stilled, turning to regard her with guarded eyes and she immediately knew her answer. "Come on."

She took his hand before he could react, tugging him gently into her bedroom and closing the door behind them. Some part of her wondered if she was being absolutely forward with this, but the emotional part of her overwrote it just as quickly. All she could think about was the image of him lying on the couch earlier and charting elusive images of the people he'd killed with his mind. That alone was enough to drive any sane person mad.

"I don't know what kind of terrifying things plague your mind," She said quietly, easing him down onto the bed and smiling reassuringly at him when he stared at her in surprise. "But maybe when you're with me, you'll think about them less."

His eyebrows shot up. "Are you propositioning me, doll?" His lips tilted up in a cocky smirk that made her breathless for a moment. "Because I have to say, I quite like it when you're taking charge."

She laughed. This wasn't entirely off tangent, that thought had briefly crossed her mind but it wasn't something she wanted to push. "Anything you want," She promised, watching as he stilled in surprise at her words. "It's all at your pace. You will always have me."

He didn't respond for a long while, but she saw the way he swallowed, working up an audible response as the teasing in his gaze faded into a shade completely serious. His hand sliding up to rest against her cheek. Then he drew her down so that she was settling onto the pillow beside him, her lips a hairsbreadth away from his. Gently, he brushed her lips across hers, a feather-light touch that was frighteningly addictive and made her toes curl.

When he pulled back, his eyes were soft as he stared at her, reaching down to loop his fingers through hers. His grip was almost tight and he held her gaze evenly. "Stay with me."

"I will," she assured him, watching as his lips tilted up in a fleeting smile, before he slowly shut his eyes. It didn't take long before she was lulled to back to sleep by the sound of his even, steady breaths.

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She gasped awake at an iron grip around her neck. She blinked and found herself pinned to the bed with Bucky hovering over her. But it wasn't a welcome weight.

Instead, it was heavy, his metal fingers latched around her neck in a grip that was almost suffocating, his knees on either side of her as he straddled her down onto the bed, leaving her no chance of an escape route or a chance to even moved. His eyes were the kind of haunted that made her shiver when she met his gaze, and he was muttering some inaudible phrases. The only word she could vaguely make out was Gehenna, but even that made no sense to her.

In a panic, she flailed for a few seconds, but his grip seemed to tighten the more she struggled. "James," she choked out.

Bucky stilled for a fraction. His fingers eased up on her neck, and she immediately gulped in a deep breath. Oxygen rushed back into her lungs, and her vision began to clear.

But he tensed when the door to her bedroom swung open the next moment. In her peripheral vision, Dakota caught a glimpse of three figures by the doorway – first of Sam, looking absolutely furious when he saw Bucky's fingers wrapped around her throat, and then Steve was lunging forward, horror on his face as he braced himself for an inevitable fight.

But Natasha was the first one by their side. A sharp click, then the barrel of a gun pointed straight at Bucky. "Drop her."

With a snarl and a movement so swift, he knocked the gun out of Natasha's hands. His grip tightened around Dakota's neck again, and he bared his teeth in a menacing growl. She gasped and held out a hand to stop the others from coming close.

"James."

Her voice was so weak that she barely heard it herself. But he stilled, and his gaze locked on her. Then recognition flickered in his eyes. With a muffled curse, he flinched away as though he'd just touched an open flame.

He exhaled, leaning over as he reached out for her with shaking hands, his eyes scanning her face rapidly. "Прости (I'm sorry)," He spoke so quickly that she could barely differentiate one syllable from another, and his shoulders were wracked with shudders as he tried to pull himself together. He clenched his hands just before he could come into contact with her and it seemed to take a tremendous effort for him not to touch her. "Пожалуйста, извини меня, я не хотел причинить тебе вреда (Please forgive me, I didn't mean to hurt you)."

His words didn't make sense to her, but she could sense the apology in them. "It's okay," she assured him.

He held her by the shoulders to haul her up, but the moment she was upright, he removed his hands from her. He took the glass that Sam offered and brought it to her lips. Well aware of the many eyes on her, she drank. Even though Steve seemed relieved that his friend was back to normal, Sam still looked tense, and Natasha held her gun in a tight grip.

She handed the glass back to Bucky and nodded at the others. "I've got this. You guys should catch some sleep while you can. Thanks for looking out for me."

Steve hesitated. But when she nodded again, his lips quirked in a grateful smile. He removed himself and a reluctant Sam from the room. Natasha was the last to leave, but not before she shot a narrow-eyed look at Bucky.

Once the door was shut, Dakota turned to Bucky. "I didn't realise your nightmares were this violent."

"It's always been this way. That's why Steve and Wilson sleep outside in the living room, so they can keep an eye out on me."

She noticed that his eyes were fixed on his neck. He reached for her, then quickly withdrew. But she caught his wrist before he could, then tugged him closer so that his fingers rested on her neck. Her skin still felt raw, and she shivered at the memory of his hand wrapped around her neck mere minutes ago.

It was him; it wasn't him. All at once.

Difficult to spot the difference sometimes.

"I'm sorry." His voice sounded broken; his eyes fixed on her as he traced her neck with trembling fingers. "I'm one of those devils even you can't fix. And I want to – I should stay away from you but – "

"You told me not to leave you," she finished when he trailed off. "So you don't get to leave me either. Whatever's in your head – " She slid her hands up his cheeks, feeling rough stubble beneath her palms, and carded her fingers through his hair. " – whatever's in here, try not to keep it in. Tell me about it, write it out, vent your frustrations out on one of Steve's punching bags. Don't keep it in."

His gaze fixed on her, still dark, but far less turbulent than it had been mere seconds ago. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why aren't you afraid of me?"

"I'm afraid of the monsters in your head," She admitted quietly, leaning forward to press her lips against his forehead, feeling him shudder involuntarily against her as she freckled soft kisses down the bridge of his nose. "But not you. Never you."

He stopped her then, his hands cradling her cheeks gently to tug her away from him for just a second, if only so he could hold her gaze evenly, his eyes soft as he stared at her. "Cолнышко," he murmured fondly, his breath hot on her skin, before leaning in to capture her lips with his.

It was slower this time, softer, sweeter; and she closed her eyes, feeling him let out a shaky sigh when she kissed him, his thumb stroking her cheek gently in a distinct pattern that seemed to brand her as his. She let herself sink into the kiss, latching her fingers tightly around his jacket, his bare chest flush against her skin, the warmth seeping into her like the best kind of aphrodisiac there ever was. His tongue swept out to teasingly skim across her bottom lip and she let out a quiet whimper, feeling his grip instinctively tighten on her at the sound of her voice.

After several moments, he reluctantly pulled back, watching her with soft, dazed eyes. His long fingers were still mapping out the slope of her neck, the curve of her shoulder and the hollow of her collarbone. She loved how she felt beneath his touch. When he wasn't at war with the monsters in his head, he was always gentle and held her like she was entirely fragile; but the sighs and shivers and non-existent resistance he seemed to have around her made her feel like she wielded the power to bring him completely to his knees if she wanted to.

Now, he was regarding her with a shade of the darkest intensity in his eyes, and his tongue darted out nervously to wet his lips several times before he spoke. "I – " He started quietly, but then the words seemed to slip from his grasp and he shook his head, curling a lock of her hair between his fingertips as he shut his eyes.

She stared at him for a moment. "Cолнышко," she whispered at last, and he slowly opened his eyes to look at her. "What does that mean?"

Surprise flickered in his eyes for a fleeting second before he shrugged. "Little sun, sunlight, sunshine – everything in between." He caught her curious gaze and exhaled, one corner of his lips tilting up in a faint smirk that seemed almost bitter. "I'm the coldest winter that soaks up every bit of sunlight I can possibly get."

Her heart clenched at his words. She didn't think when she closed the distance between them and curled up on his lap. He stilled for a moment, then his arms went around her waist. His breath hitched when she wrapped her arms around him. He buried his face against her neck, and his fingers traced patterns on her skin where her shirt rode up.

"Better now?" she asked softly.

He pressed his lips gently to her neck, and it took her a few seconds before she realised that it was the same spot where his fingers were earlier. "Perfect."

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ end of chapter ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

r e f e r e n c e s

Bruce x Natasha

Natasha's words about the one person she wanted to live with disappearing from her radar were an allusion to Avengers: Age of Ultron, where she and Bruce were kinda-sorta-almost a thing. I'd complain, but we all know that Whedon can't do romance.

Bucky's bionic arm

There have been many iterations of Bucky's arm in comics, but given the current timeline (in the MCU), we're somewhere between a version that's more advanced than what he had in CATWS / CACW - meaning, it's more than just brute strength and reflexes, and something closer to what he has in the comics (e.g. electromagnetic pulse / sensors / electrical discharges etc).