Summary: After the events in Madripoor, Bucky needs to take a walk to clear his head. When he returns to their hideout, though, Zemo is at gunpoint, Sam is nowhere in sight, and Natasha looks murderous.

In which Zemo says the wrong thing, Sam makes a call, and Natasha protects what's hers.

A/N: I am accepting requests, so please comment or DM me your ideas!

They're stuck in Madripoor. After the stunt Zemo made them pull―Winter Soldier and all―there's no way they'll be leaving anytime soon. Unfortunately for Zemo, Bucky is absolutely seething after his previous words and he's not sure staying in close quarters will be good for the other man's health.

"Fell back in line a little too easily, didn't he?"

It's only been a handful of hours since the words were uttered, and they haven't left his mind since. Sam, thankfully, doesn't push him to talk or even stick around.

He goes on a long walk to cool down once they find safety and doesn't return for hours. The walk does him good and after several laps around the city, he decides to go back to their hideout and confront Zemo. When he does, however, he finds Natalia with her gun pointed at Zemo's head and a sneer so vicious that even Zemo is cowering.

"Last chance," she snarls, pressing her gun to his forehead. "Tell me what you did to him or I swear to fucking god, I'll make you suffer."

"Natalia?"

Sam is nowhere in sight which is... suspicious. Natalia, though, looks ready to kill Zemo which is a much bigger problem at the moment, so he makes that his first focus.

At his voice, Natalia turns her head to look at him. Her gun doesn't waver from Zemo's head and Zemo doesn't look any more relaxed now that her eyes aren't on him.

He's seen her kill people before and he's seen her defend her own, but he's never seen her look so angry. Even halfway across the room, he can feel it rolling off of her in waves. As soon as her eyes land on him, though, her shoulders drop and she lowers the gun just a bit.

"You're okay," she breathes in relief.

He nods and is at her side in a flash, taking the gun from her hands. Predictably, she fights him and her grip on the gun only tightens.

"Natalia, give me the gun," he tells her. His metal arm wraps around her waist and his flesh hand wrangles the gun from her. "What are you doing here?"

Last he knew, she was tucked away safely at Clint's farm. She had promised she would stay put until he returned, but if she could be in Madripoor in the time he took to finish his walk, she clearly hadn't kept that promise. He's not honestly surprised.

"Sam called," she explains vaguely. "He said Zemo took advantage of you and you were gone."

"If I may―"

Natalia raises a second gun at Zemo's head before he can get any further and snarls, "Shut your fucking mouth."

"Natalia, hey, breathe," Bucky says. He doesn't try to take the second gun from her. "We need him, like it or not."

"No, you don't."

He knows she doesn't mean to be so sharp with him so he doesn't get offended by her tone.

"Whatever it is you need from him, James, I'll take care of it," she promises. Her eyes never leave Zemo's. "He's manipulated you for the last time."

She still looks ready to kill Zemo, but James manages to draw her attention back to him and explain what he and Sam are up to. As he promises her that Zemo is only there to serve a purpose, he snags the second gun from her hand. She notices but lets him take it which tips him off to the fact that she must be armed up to the teeth. She wouldn't have let him take her last weapon that simply.

"It was necessary to get what we needed," James tells her even though he doesn't think it was.

"We could have gotten so much more," Zemo muses, and Natalia stiffens in James's arms, "if I'd had a Widow at my beck and call."

This time, it's James that raises a gun to Zemo's head first. As fast as lightning, Natalia steals his gun from his waistband and raises it at Zemo as well.

"Watch your mouth," James hisses, one arm still wrapped around Natalia. "Say what you want about me, but you'll keep her out of your goddamn mouth."

It's at that very moment that the door opens and Sam whistles lowly.

Absolutely perfect, James thinks to himself. Sam had to have planned that timing. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath because if he's going to deal with Natalia and Sam and Zemo all at once, he'll need a clear mind.

"Sam," James greets, keeping his eyes on Zemo and his arm around Natalia. "Did you call Natalia?"

"Oh, yeah," Sam admits easily. "Let her in and everything, too."

"What did you tell her?"

He turns to look at Sam because Natalia still looks murderous and James is beginning to think Sam had made the situation out to be worse than it actually was.

"I told her the truth," Sam says. "Zemo took advantage of a mission and you took the blow."

Natalia whirls on Sam. "You told me he was gone."

"Yeah, for a walk," Sam clarifies. Natalia's eyes narrow but before she can argue, he says, "You hung up before I could say anything further, though."

"I thought he was dead," Natalia seethes.

That actually explains a lot. She's holding onto him a little too tightly and she's still wound up like a spring. Since he'd entered the room, she's started decompressing, but the panic is still there, hiding under her skin in the way she clutches her gun in one hand and his shirt in her other.

"I said―and I quote―" Sam emphasizes, catching the look of warning in James's eyes― "'Zemo pushed the limit, Nat, and Bucky's gone'."

There's a pause and then―

"Okay, I see now how that could be a problem," Sam admits.

Natalia screams in frustration and when Zemo chuckles, she shoots him in the thigh. James and Sam both protest loudly as Zemo shouts in pain.

"He's bleeding now," Sam whines, gesturing to the wound from her gun. "We'll have to clean that."

"We really do need him, Natalia," James murmurs in her ear. "Otherwise he'd be dead, trust me."

"I'm not sorry," Natalia admits. She does put her gun away. "Sam." She nods at Zemo. "Take care of that."

"Hey now," Sam protests, "you made the mess―"

"Take care," Natalia repeats, more forcefully this time, "of it."

Sam grumbles and yanks Zemo to his feet to take him to the bathroom and clean up. As soon as Zemo's eyes are no longer on them, Natalia turns to James and sinks into his arms.

"I thought you were dead," she breathes, burying her face in his neck. "I thought I was coming to pick up a body."

"No, Natalia, never," he promises. He tucks her under his arm a little tighter and presses an almost too-firm kiss to her head. It's reassuring to them both. "I'm not going away that easily."

From the bathroom, James can make out muffled arguing between Sam and Zemo, but he's too content with Natalia in his arms to go make sure they're both being rational. It's been a while since he's seen his girl and she's just what he needs right now.

"I'm glad you're here," he tells her softly. His nose finds her hair and he sighs.

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else." She presses a kiss to his chest. "You're lucky I was so close."

"Yeah." The moment is broken and James pulls away to give her a look. "We're going to talk about that, actually."

Natalia rolls her eyes. "Sharon called in a favor. I was perfectly safe."

The words Sharon and safe are the dead opposite of each other. Tie that in with the fact that Natalia had been doing a favor for her and James is left to imagine what she was up to before she crashed into their little hideout. He can't help but look her over for injuries and replay every movement she's made since he first walked in.

"It was safe," Natalia repeats, tilting her chin to look up at him. "I promise."

"Is that why you're armed so heavily?" he teases, satisfied that she's not injured. "Because your time with Sharon was safe?"

"It was safe because I'm armed so heavily," she counters smoothly.

She kisses him before he can ask what that's supposed to mean and he decides it's okay. For now.

When she tries to pull back, he pulls her closer and kisses her deeper.

"I'm glad you're here," he murmurs against her lips.

She smiles as he kisses her again and he swallows her muffled "Me too" with his lips.