"What am I even supposed to wear on a date?" I his as I sift through the small amount of clothes in my closet. "I don't have any dresses, all I've got is a suit! Why would I wear a suit on a date? Wait... Why do I even have a suit?"

"Why indeed." A voice floats through my room, scaring me half to death before I realize who it is

"Nat, you scared the shit out of me!" I squeak. "Can you please stop sneaking up on people like that?"

"Nope, definitely not." She smirks, pushing herself off the doorframe and joining me by my closet. "So, got a hot date?"

"Kind of, yeah." I answer, shifting my meager collection of clothing around in frustration.

"Alright, you have to stop that right now." She says, grabbing my wrists to still my arms. "I'll help you with your outfit, don't worry."

"Wait, really?"

"I've been waiting for you and that annoyance to get together for weeks now. It's the least I could do."

"Oh no. Please tell me no one bet on this." I say, my voice tinged with a whine.

"Sorry, (Y/N), I can't do that." She says, the corner of her mouth quirking up in a smile.

"Then at least tell me you won."

"That I did, my dear, that I did." She says, taking her winnings from her pocket and fanning herself with it dramatically.

"Damn, how much did they put in the pot this time?" I ask.

"Really? You're asking me about money when you've got a date to be getting ready for?"

"Hey, you're the one who distracted me in the first place." I say, perking up my eyebrows at her. "You can't lay one hundred percent of the blame on me for this."

"Yeah, yeah, okay," She says, smiling and rolling her eyes. "So where are you guy's going to be going?"

"That little italian place that's a few blocks down." I answer. "It's pretty casual."

"Alright then..." She sifts through the clothing in my closet for a moment before grabbing a light blue button up with little white polka dots, then goes and selects a pair of dark blue, high waisted skinny jeans from my dresser. "Wear the wingtips." SHe says, handing me the clothes.

"Thank you so much, Nat, you have no idea how badly I needed help."

"Happy to help." She nods before striding out of my room.

I take a quick shower and get dressed, not bothering to do anything to my hair but dry and brush it. I apply some simple makeup. Just a little foundation and mascara. They don't really teach you how to do your makeup in Hydra when you're one of their tools. I kind of had to figure it out on my own, and let's just say my skills are still a work in progress. From there I tug on my shoes and tie them, rolling up my pant legs just above my ankles.

Before I leave my room I shove my wallet, phone and a handgun into a messenger bag just in case.

As I'm leaving my room Bucky and I cross paths and he stops to look at me.

"What?" I ask, looking myself over to the best of my ability. "Do I have something on my face? Did I get toothpaste on my shirt?"

"No," He says, snapping out of the trans he was in there for a moment, shaking his head. "Well, yeah you have something on your face, but I have a feeling that it's supposed to be there."

"Oh, the makeup, yeah. Kind of weird, right?"

"No, you look nice." He smiles softly. "Pietro is a lucky guy."

"T-thank you." I say. I can feel my face heating up from the compliment. "We'll have to see how lucky he is after tonight."

"Oh?" He raises his eyebrows. "Why do you say that?"

"Well, I don't really know how well this is going to go. So..." I trail off for a moment trying to gather my thoughts. "I guess we'll just take it a date at a time if it works."

"That sounds like a good plan." Bucky nods, looking at the floor and then back up at me. "Good luck then. On your date, I mean."

"Thanks, Buck." I smile. "I'll talk to you when I get back, but don't feel like you have to wait up for me."

"Alright," He chuckles. "I'll see you when you then."

We part ways and I head down to the first floor to meet Pietro. In the elevator ride down I get stuck with Tony on his way to his garage to work on his suits or something.

"Hey there kid, you look nice." He comments. "Who's the lucky lad?"

"Don't pull that, I know you guys had a bet." I look at him, smiling with my eyebrows raised.

"Ooh, she told you did she?"

"Yup." I pop the 'p'. "How much did you bet?"

"You actually want to know?"

"Well, yeah. Why not?"

"Alright then," He chuckles. "I put $20 in."

"That's all? I thought you were the big spender."

"What? I'm good at gambling." He shrugs. "I didn't lose all that much. You should have seen how much Barton threw down. The man lost a lot."

"Oh no!" I say, covering my mouth in a sarcastic gasp. "You guys really should warn him, he's got no mind for gambling."

"Okay, sure, but then the winnings would be smaller and gambling is all about the payout."

"True! But he's not exactly a rich man." I say elbowing him in the arm. "Just give him a break next time, okay?"

"Now why would I do that?" He asks as the elevator doors open.

"Because you're a nice guy, Tony." I say, backing out of the elevator. "You should act like it sometime."

I turn around and I can hear his low chuckle as the doors close.

"Have a good time, kid." I wave as I walk away in response.

I head to the lobby to wait for Pietro only to find that he's already there, waiting for me. He stands facing the door, his back to me. I clear my throat and he whips around, a grin immediately taking the place of the look of surprise on his face.

"Hey," He says softly. The corners of his eyes crinkle as his smile widen. "I was starting to worry that you wouldn't come."

"Since when do I stand people up?" I ask, returning his smile.

"Well... never, actually." He chuckles.

"So, are you ready?" I ask, changing the point of conversation

"As I'll ever be." He nods and offers me his arm. I take it, though with slight hesitation, and we walk out the door and into the streets of New York.

We walk through the crowded sidewalks, dodging people left and right. Pietro wraps his arms around my shoulders, pulling me into his side. I slip my arm around his middle in return. We walk quietly for a few more minutes before He breaks the silence.

"So, where are we going?" He asks, smiling down at me sweetly.

"Remember that Italian place Tony took us after you recovered?" I ask, looking up at him to meet his gaze.

"The one with that creepy fat wooden chef near the front?"

"That's the one!"

"I love that place!"

"I know, that's why we're going there." I laugh. "I thought we could use some fettuccine or something after everything that's happened over the past few weeks."

"Well I think it's one of the best ideas you've ever had."

"Thank you." I say, nodding once in satisfaction.

We round the corner to see the restaurant, and we look at each other and smile. We quickly walk into the restaurant and request a table for two. The wait isn't long and soon we're seated, with our drinks and orders quickly taken.

"That was fast." I comment, watching the waitress walk off to the kitchens.

"Well..."

"I meant for restaurant service and you know that." I chuckle at the slight offence he took at my comment.

"Maybe I did," He shrugs. "But it still hurts." He places a hand over his heart and shoots me a look of mock pain.

"Mmm, you'll get over it." I smirk at him before taking a sip of my water.

"A little harsh for a first date, don't you think?" He asks, cocking an eyebrow.

"Maybe, but we know each other so well." I say, cocking my head.

"That is true." He nods, looking down at his glass of water, drumming his fingers on the table and watching the resulting ripples in the liquid.

"Hey, sorry." I say, wiping condensation around on my glass.

"For what?"

"For what I said." I look up, meeting his gaze. "I was trying to joke around, and I just sounded harsh."

"It's okay." He says, the corner of his mouth turning up in a small smile. "I know exactly what you were trying to do."

"I'm not the only one feeling the absolute awkwardness of this whole situation, am I? Because if I am, this is about to get way more awkward."

"Yeah, it is kind of strange." He laughs, somewhat uncomfortable with the revelation. "Do you regret this?"

"No, I wouldn't say that..." I trail off, trying to word it so that I don't offend him. He's my best friend and I don't want to throw that away. "Maybe we should give it till the end of our meal and decide if we should give this a chance."

"Alright." He nods.

We sit in silence, occasionally sipping our drinks and looking around the restaurant like we can't even look at each other for fear of the awkward situation escalating further.

"So that kiss," Pietro blurts out. "You said we would talk about it tonight."

"Oh yeah. I did, didn't I?" I finally look at him. "I guess we can if you want."

"Alright. I-"

Just as he begins to speak the waitress arrives with our meals and I sigh quietly in relief. When the waitress sets our food down in front of us, we both just start eating, not talking the entire time.

I don't understand why this is so awkward. We were both so excited about this date. We both like each other. Why are we so stiff? We've known each other for months, and we know each other so well. I know I felt a flutter when he kissed me yesterday, and when he whispered in my ear I swear I felt a shiver run down my spine. I know I am attracted to this man, so why is this going so wrong?

"So, about that kiss..." I trail off, absentmindedly twirling my pasta on my fork.

"Yeah, about that..." I hear a small clink and look up to see Pietro's set down his fork and is looking at me intently. "How did you feel about it?"

"Well, I mean, it wasn't bad..." I answer, resting my fork on the edge of my plate. "But I don't exactly know how to really feel about it."

"Oh..."

"I felt a flutter when you did it, don't get me wrong, but it was our first kiss and I didn't really get to take part in it, y'know?"

"Yeah, sorry about that." He folds his arms, resting them on the table and staring down at his food.

"It wasn't bad, please don't think that." I lean forward on the table too, not exactly knowing what I should say. "I just... I don't exactly know how to describe it. It's just-"

"We know each other too well." He looks up at me, smiling sadly.

"Yeah." I sit back in my chair, suddenly regretting this entire situation. "I never really had the chance to have crushes or relationships or anything like that, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry that we went through this and it turned out so badly."

"Hey, don't worry about it." He says, waving me off.

"But I am worrying about it, Pietro. I don't understand the most basic human emotions, and I don't want to hurt you!"

"You haven't hurt me!" He says, surprisingly calm. "(Y/N), you are overreacting. I'm not upset with you. I'm not hurt and I'm not disappointed. It's okay that this hasn't gone according to either of our plans. There's no problem with dates going wrong. It happens all the time to people who are fifteen times more normal than we are." He leans back in his seat, running a hand through his hair. "Think of it this way. Dates are experiments. You go on a date with someone to test your romantic compatibility, no? Just because we are not romantically compatible doesn't mean that we've hurt one another or that we've ruined our friendship."

"Really?" I ask quietly. "You're okay with this?"

"Of course. You are my best friend." He nods his head gently. "I was, and am, attracted to you, but sitting here on this date, I know a relationship between the two of us would be an odd and uncomfortable thing. Our friendship is a comfortable thing, and if that's all you're wanting, of course I'm going to be okay with it."

"You're not upset with me?"

"(Y/N), why would I be upset with you?" He raises his eyebrows at me "I love our friendship. I'm glad that we made this decision now instead of being in a relationship for months that feels forced and volatile. Upset is the last thing I would be."

"You're the best, you know that right?" The corner of my mouth lifts in a small smile.

"Well I do now." He chuckles and goes back to spinning some spaghetti onto his fork.

We eat in a comfortable silence for a while. When Pietro's done I ask for a box to put what's left of my fettuccini in and after paying the check and thanking the staff we start the walk home. We go along, arms linked, quietly navigating the crowded walkways. It's not long till we're standing in the elevator up to the living quarters, leaning on the railing around the inside.

When we arrive at our floor we disembark and I head straight for my room.

"Don't you want to put that in the fridge?" Pietro asks, pointing to the box of lukewarm pasta in my hand.

"I'm going to see if Bucky wants any. It doesn't really reheat very well anyways."

"Alright," He holds his arms outstretched for a hug. "Goodnight then."

"Goodnight, P." I say, wrapping my arms around his middle as his arms fall over my shoulders. "I had a pretty good time tonight. We should do friend dates more often."

"I agree." He releases me and we go our separate ways.

When I arrive in my room the lights are out. The clock on my bedside table says that it's 8:45. I assume Bucky is asleep so I shuffle over to the bathroom to wash my face and change.

After tugging on a pair of boxers and an oversized tee shirt I shuffle back into my room, food still in hand only to be startled by someone suddenly speaking.

"How'd it go?" It's Bucky.

"I've got leftovers, if you wanna share." I lift the Styrofoam box so he can see. "Pietro finished eating before me and I'm still kind of hungry."

"Alright," He flicks the lamp on, allowing me light by which to make my way over climb onto the bed with him. "But you didn't answer my question."

"Hmm?" I hum, pulling a couple of forks from the drawer of my night stand.

"Wait, why do you have forks in your bedside table?" He asks, looking utterly perplexed.

"Counter question, why wouldn't I have forks in my bedside table?" I ask, popping open the box and handing him a fork.

"Fair point." He says, taking his fork and twirling some pasta onto it. "But you still didn't answer my question. How did your date go?"

"It didn't really go well." I answer, lifting a large bite of fettuccine to my lips and shoveling it into my mouth.

"Really?" He asks around a mouthful of pasta, eyebrows in surprise. "You guys seemed so compatible."

"I guess we weren't." I shrug, taking another bite of pasta. He seems to accept my answer and we sit in silence, eating nearly cold fettuccine.

After all the foods gone I get up and toss the container in the trash and wash the forks in the sink. I head back over to the bed and flop back down next to Bucky. We lay in a comfortable quiet until he breaks the silence..

"Are you sure it went badly, or is that just how you're saying it went?"

"I swear it didn't go well. I promise I'm not saying that because I'm scared of a relationship." I turn my head to look at him.

"Are you sure?" He cocks an eyebrow questioningly.

"I...I don't know. You keep asking me and it's getting my head all messed up." I look back up at the ceiling.

"Okay, how about this," I feel the bed shift as he rolls over onto his side. "Could you see yourself with him, with a family?"

"I mean... No, not really." I answer, rolling over to face him. "But that's not because I don't like the man enough to have a family with him."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"I can't have kids, Buck." I answer. "My body temperature is about five to ten degrees higher than the average humans. Most of my internal workings are fine. The only thing that's really affected by my increased temperature is my uterus and my ovaries. As a result I don't get periods and I can't get pregnant."

"Oh, (Y/N), I'm sorry. I'm sorry for asking, I didn't know and I-"

"Hey, it's okay! Don't worry about it. Like my memory loss, only a few people know about this too. It's just not a thing that comes up in conversation a lot."

"Are you alright with not having children?" He asks, his voice suddenly very quiet.

"Well I never really had the time to seriously think about it, and anytime I actually gave it any thought I just had the feeling that I shouldn't bring any kids into my world. It's dangerous and scary and it's not meant for little humans. And what if I pass along my powers? Or if they got a different, more dangerous power? It would be so hard to feel like a normal kid. I know it definitely was for me." I feel myself rambling and try to slow it down a little. "I could adopt with someone, but it wouldn't be fair to the child. What kind of parent would I be if I brought a child into my home and one day just didn't come back because I was killed? I couldn't do that to anyone."

Bucky stares at me wordlessly. It feels like he's searching my eyes for some sort of answer, and I can't tell if he's found what he's looking for. He just quietly wraps an arm around my waist and gently pulls me close to him.

"I'm sorry." He repeats.

"It's not your fault. Stop apologizing." I say, curling my arms and hands in toward my chest.

"Alright." He whispers.

"And I really mean it when I said the date went wrong." I say, inching closer to him. "He and I both came to the conclusion that it would be odd and uncomfortable for us to force ourselves into a romantic relationship. We decided that we're just going to stay friends."

"Oh really?" I feel his laugh vibrating in his chest.

"Really." I answer, chuckling in turn.

We sit quietly for another small stretch of time. It's comfortable and something about it triggers a sort of itch in the back of my mind. I try to ignore it and scoot closer to Bucky, curling into his chest slightly, my forehead resting on his collarbone. Despite my own elevated temperature, he feels warm and being close to him is comforting, and I slowly feel myself start to drift off slightly.

"Thank you." He says, breaking the silence hanging between the two of us.

"For what?"

"For wanting to talk to me. For telling me about not being able to have kids. For trusting me. For everything." He lists off.

"Of course, James." I say, my slight drowsiness apparent in my words. "I trusted you from the moment you arrived."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I'm not entirely sure myself." I shrug.

"One last question."

"Shoot."

"Why do you call me James?"

"Because that's your name. James Barnes. It's you."

"Okay, but everyone else here calls me by by nickname. But not you. There has to be a reason."

"Really? There has to be a reason?" I question.

"Yes." He insists.

"Alright..." I trail off, trying to think of a viable answer. "I like the way it sounds. It's an elegant name. It suits you, even if you don't think so right now. It's kind of like your left arm like that. You might not like it, but it's still you. Regardless of what happens."

"Thank you." He whispers.

"Of course."

I pull the comforter up and over us and we sit in a warm and comfortable silence once again. That is, until his quiet voice breaks through for another time.

"I lied, this is the last question."

"Okay," I giggle quietly. "What is it?"

"Would you call me James more often?

"I'd love to." I answer.

"Thank you."

"Goodnight, James." I whisper. I can feel my eyelids growing heavier by the second.

"Goodnight, (Y/N)."