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โง ๐ฌ๐ก๐'๐ฌ ๐จ๐ฏ๐๐ซ-๐๐จ๐ซ๐๐ ๐๐ง๐ ๐ฌ๐๐ฅ๐-๐๐ฌ๐ฌ๐ฎ๐ซ๐๐
for spam, texts, tfln overflow, starters, prompts โ
for spam, texts, tfln overflow, starters, prompts โ
for spam, texts, tfln overflow, starters, prompts โ
@finishitmyself
[ ha ha ]
he said to me, "miss if you don't hand over the last oh henry bar i'm going to call the cops"
children are hilarious
was i this funny when i was six
Absolutely no worries, been there
did you give him the candy bar or did he call the cops?
You were. You used to always get really curious before bedtime and say you couldn't sleep until you knew the answer to whatever question you'd thought up. One night you wanted to know what each specific type of dinosaur ate.
[ooc: I just searched for "funny things kids say" and found that but I can change it if it doesn't vibe for you]
<33
[ he probably tried to call the cops but she was long gone by then. ]
that sounds a lot like me
even now i won't shut up until i get an answer
i would say we are in the right line of work, don't you agree?
โคโคโค
[Nat might very well check and see if that call was made, just for laughs.]
Either that or we could have been good at basically everything.
tw: human trafficking but also, SADNESS
i probably saved him a trip to the hospital and maybe even a foot
[ the funny thing is, they are good at pretty much everything. ]
if we weren't, you know, trafficked as children and moulded into cold-blooded killers
where do you think you would be right now
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Honestly? I don't know. I've imagined hundreds of other potential lives but...
none of them ever actually feel like mine.
no subject
oh henry is mediocre at best
i think mars bars are better
[ she understands the feeling, actually. it's not that she wishes she was living another lifeโ just that... it's nice to pretend. ]
natasha
are you happy?
no subject
mars bars are definitely better.
[if anyone were going to get it... which made it easier to say.]
Yes, I think so. Although it still feels strange to say. Like it'd disappear if it knew I could see it in the room.
Are you?
the kitchen heist.
But it meant they wound up being ships in the night. When he happened to be in Yelena's neck of the woods, then Sam had called him about a job in London, and so Bucky had grabbed his bag and left before he could contact her. The next time he was back home with some time to kill, he'd sent a gently inquiring text, but messages went into a black hole and her answering machine. Off on another mission, then, probably extracting more former Widows. The work was long.
So they subsist on sporadic text messages for a while, whenever they happen to be close to the same timezone and awake at the same hours. Messages in a bottle. Idle flirtation from afar. He has no idea when they'll be in the same place next; doesn't really know what he'd do with himself even once they are.
Tonight, though, Bucky's on his way back from SHIELD headquarters — at least he hasn't had to fly commercial in ages, turns out Sam-as-Cap can pull strings and get them jets when they need transportation — with a duffel bag over one shoulder and a new bullet hole in the sleeve of his jacket, as he unlocks his studio apartment.
And it's standing there on the threshold, head cocked, that he instantly realises something feels off.
Blame the decades of training, always teaching him to have a hand on the gun and an eye out for trouble. Blame it on him being neurotic and paranoid. But that's exactly why he lives in a studio, where you can see all the angles, so when he steps over the creaky floorboard and slowly lets his eyesight adjust to the darkness, he gets a view of his place.
There isn't much of anywhere to hide: it's just the one open-plan room, kitchen and dining and living room and bedroom all combined. He wasn't kidding about the lack of furniture, either. It's still mostly just the one armchair, dining chair, TV on its stand, and one endtable (is everything just an inch off from where he left it?). But he has finally gotten a bed, which lives in the far corner beneath the window, the sheets tucked in with military precision.
But his apartment has a thin strip of balcony (was it so he could have an easier getaway versus clambering through windows onto fire escapes? maybe), and he can tell there's a figure standing out there.
Even when he recognises the blonde hair, he doesn't fully relax. Moves across the apartment, tugs open the balcony door and joins her outside, gun still held low by his side. ]
Guess I'm lucky you didn't jump out of the closet and shout boo.
Hey, Yelena.
[ Bucky's voice is dry and his demeanour neutral, as ever, but there's something to that unfazed greeting which isn't unwelcoming, either. He'd be far more irritated if it was, well, pretty much anyone else breaking into his home unannounced. ]
APRONGATE 2021 BABY oh damn this was longer than i expected
her choice of entry? through his balcony. she did not want to risk the chance of his neighbours seeing her walk into his apartmentโ after picking the lock, of course. americans are chatty! and nosy. the person across from him would've probably seen her messing with the lock from their peephole anyway so he would've found out, wouldn't he?
she's nice (or sneaky) enough to leave her boots outside on the veranda so as to not leave any footprints behind. they have been through some shit today. literally.
there isn't much, like he said, although she does take note of the bed that was not on his list of previously owned furniture. she feels silly, swelling with pride that he actually went and took her advice.
still, that does not save him from the mischief she was unfortunately graced with as a child and she does move everything an inch to the right, once she's done scoping out the place. even his bedframe, except this timeโ only half an inch to the left. but otherwise? she does not touch anything else, not even that ridiculous "license to grill" apron she initially came here for.
maybe she was hoping for bucky to be there, and not taking it this time will give her an excuse to come back and move his furniture again.
yelena is back out on the balcony, slipping into her boots when, amid the hustle and the bustle of NYC traffic late in the evening, she hears a set of footsteps enter the apartment. her first thought is to Escape, but the closer those footsteps get, the more she doesn't want to.
so she doesn't move, leans against the railing instead with her arms crossed over her chest when the door opens and it's โ surprise! โ the man himself.
the corners of her lips curve into the smallest of smiles, though her eyes flit immediately to the gun in his hand. ]
Well, I was going to hide under your bed and grab your ankle, [ she starts, her accent thick but not as thick as it once was ] but I think you would have made a hole in my hand with that thing.
Hello, James. [ sorry bucky you're going to have to deal with yelena looking you up and down before ultimately landing on that fresh bullet hole. ] Rough night?
help she's perfect
There's no room under the bed. That's where I keep the rest of the guns and ammunition.
[ and one of his backpacks full of notebooks. and a loose floorboard, under which sits yet another bag filled with foreign currencies and a few fake passports. (that whole ultra-paranoid thing.) he says it a little distantly, though, finally putting the safety back on and storing the gun back in the duffel before setting it neatly indoors. when yelena looks at the bullet hole, his gaze follows hers and he glances down, surprised — he'd almost forgotten about it — as his gloved fingers poke at the hole in the fabric. ]
Rough job. You ever think about how unfair it is that the others wear metal rigs and body armour and flying suits? I just have the one arm.
[ and it's bullet-proof, hence him not bleeding everywhere right now through that hole, but. still. ]
And, y'know, you're lucky I haven't wired this place up with boobytraps. Crossbows and spike traps and getting tarred-and-feathered. I finally saw Home Alone.
stop HE'S perfect!!!
[ but you know what? it is good to know for the next time she's in town and she happens to be on the run. she'll just make a quick pitstop at his place for some armed goods. thanks, bucky!
yelena doesn't quite catch what he says under his breath, not with the honking and sound of cars speeding by below them. for a second, she wonders how he's able to sleep at all but she figures that complete silence is even worse. his remark about his single vibranium arm is enough to stop her train of thought; makes her chuckle, actually. โ]
Hm. Do you want another? I know a guy that can probably hack away at your other arm if you have the time and money for it.
[ her smile grows wider at his threat, her brows raising in an attempt to look afraidโ ]
Oooh, boobytraps! How scary. I will definitely need a suit like Tony Stark's for next time. I don't want a bowling ball to come swinging at my head. [ and then she's scrunching her nose at him, cocking her head to the side. ] Did you know there's a second Home Alone? The parents are pretty shitty at keeping track of Kevin.
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yelena's such a little shit, but it's one of the things he likes about her — and another one of the things they have in common. their tendency for sass, and being an exaggerated pain in the ass of the people they like most. ]
I didn't, actually. Man. Everything's got sequels and remakes now. Like, I saw Scarface in theaters in the '30s, but did you know they made another one forty years ago? And somebody told me they're making another. At this rate, I'm literally never gonna get caught up.
[ as if keeping up with pop culture is the hardest thing about being a man stranded out of time. maybe it is. bucky glances down, finally conducting his own slow once-over looking her over from head to toe; he notes where one boot is still partially unlaced, where he'd interrupted her getting ready to leave. ]
Don't tell me you took a nap in my bed, Goldilocks.
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Wait. What? You mean the one with Al Pacino isn't the original one? [ now there is genuine surprise written on her face. ] During stakeouts sometimes, I will have movies playing from a very legal streaming website in the background while I keep watch. I'll send you the link so you're not too far behind those sequels.
[ what's he looking โ ah, yes, her boots. ]
Maybe. [ goldilocks is a cute nickname, but she has yet to catch a wink of sleep, actually. ] I may have left a couple of strands of hair here and there. Sorry about that. But โ did you see? I didn't take the apron this time.
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Yep. 1932, directed by Howard Hawks, he's great. He's one of my favourites. He did Bringing Up Baby, His Girl Friday— I caught The Big Sleep just a few years ago, that was a treat. Realising that he kept making stuff after I— wasn't around to see them.
And really? Didn't notice. I was mostly checking to make sure there wasn't anyone with a gun or a grenade or a knife waiting for me. Priorities.
[ he glances back, towards the kitchen. feeling that slow, warm amusement ticking over and that grin wanting to broaden on his face. ]
'This time'? Meaning you'll be back?
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she keeps howard hawks' name tucked away in her mind for later research. maybe she'll watch a couple of his films when she's back home with fanny. ]
You're around now, and that's all that matters, right? Movies aren't going to go anywhere, anyway. [ the thing about yelena is that she is disgustingly transparent, and it with a rather sad kind of fondness that she regards bucky's person. ] You have all the time in the world! When you're not saving it, obviously.
[ then she spins around to show him the gun tucked under the waistband of her pants, at the small of her back and kicks a leg back to point at the holster holding her knife inside her (still) unlaced boot. ]
Ah โ but I left my grenades in the car, my bad. [ she beams at him, like the little shit she is. ] But yes, I will be back. I'll even bring a couple of things to spruce up your apartment so it isn't so... So bare-bones, you know? You need some plants.
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when she flaunts her weaponry, bucky leans slightly in order to peer closer at the knife in her boot. ]
Is that a Ka-Bar? Nice choice.
[ because comparing brands of combat knives is a totally normal topic of conversation. ya dummy. at least she can relate? ]
Home decor really, really isn't my strong suit. And, like, wouldn't a houseplant die if I'm away for a few weeks? I still don't get how you're keeping a kid alive. What do you do with Fanny when you need to go on a job?
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it is also much easier to get out of bed knowing she has a purpose and that's what keeps her going. ]
Do you want to see?
[ yelena doesn't wait for an answer; she's just as excited to show off her brand new knife. her thumb and index finger pinch around the skull to pull it out of its leather holster before bearing it to bucky in all of its silver beauty. ]
It was a birthday gift from my mother. [ a beat, ] Melina. It's pretty, right? Flashy, for sure but useful still.
[ this is exactly what regular people talk about on like, a daily basis, duh.
she's following until he mentions a kid, then he loses her completely. what kid? fanny, he says and her eyes widen ever so slightly with relief because โ oh right, THAT kid. ]
I'll get you something low-maintenance, don't worry. Like a teeny, tiny baby cactus you can keep on a windowsill. And believe it or not, Alexei is a pretty good babysitter when Melina isn't busy. Fanny is also a big girl. Very independent. Like me.
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[ congratulations, yelena: you've finally broken him and now he's just breaking into startled, incredulous laughter as he takes the knife and turns it end-over-end in his hands, either admiring the balance or being aghast at the decorative skull, or both. he flips the knife, testing the weight and heft of it. it's obnoxiously over the top, but it is still a ka-bar, and so you can effectively shank someone in the kidney with it and murder them while also looking, at best, extremely tacky.
it's the best and most ridiculous thing he's ever seen.
with another chuckle, bucky flips it back over and sets it back in her hands, and finally seems to notice what she'd said. he's still reeling at the mental image of yelena with a kid, but doing his best to be very cool and blasรฉ and totally chill with it. everything is fine!! she'll divulge more details when the time is right; maybe when he meets fanny herself. ]
This is gonna sound really weird to say, but I feel like the Red Guardian could give really good piggyback rides. And bear hugs.
[ alexei shostakov was a big guy, and exaggeratedly physically affectionate โ as demonstrated by the absolute bear hug he'd given james barnes upon first meeting him, with an exuberant comrade!! and literally lifting the other man off his feet before then challenging him to a wrestling match. they'd gotten along, surprisingly. the man seemed like he could be a good dad, when he put his mind to it.
(and maybe that was what made it so much worse. how effective that ruse had been; how he'd worked his way into his youngest daughter's heart without even knowing the wreckage he'd be leaving behind once the job ended, once they came in from the cold, once the family was stripped away from her.) ]
no subject
You look very cool with it.
[ she's holding her hands out like a child going door to door on halloween for candy and he places it carefully back into her palms. her turn to play with it, the tips of her fingers dancing along the ridges of the handle. โ]
Sounds like to me somebody wants a piggyback ride from the Red Guardian himself. And a hug, too. Would you like his autograph as well?
[ alexei and melina were the best parents anyone could ask for. they set the standard for her (they played their roles to perfection after all), and even after she and natasha were taken into dreykov's "care", she still thought the world of them โ at least for a while. she was never able to hate melina, because she thought she was dead and that was the thing, wasn't it? what was the point of holding a grudge against someone who wasn't even alive? but alexei โ he never came back for them. and then later, natasha never came back for her.
those three years were everything to her and she remembers every single second of it. it kept her grounded, after oksana had freed her but it still hurt like fucking hell.
well, things are better now since she apparently trusts them enough to look after her dog, which she feels really bad about now, for not telling bucky that it is in fact, not a child. ]
I give amazing piggyback rides too, you know. Maybe not so much hugs because my arms are not as massive as Alexei's but I am awesome at carrying people on my back.
[ she's really not ]
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[ there's the skeptical tilt of an eyebrow as bucky straightens to his full height, looking down and pointedly eyeing the eight inches of space between them. he holds his hand flat right above her head, indicating the exact spot where her height ends.
all of this teasing is playful and joyously stupid and banal and it's actually exactly what he needed, after too many hours awake crossing timezones and the ache of bruises on his ribs and the smell of gunpowder on his gloves. he hadn't expected a conversation. he'd expected to come home to this empty barebones apartment, kick off his boots and just pour his body into the bed, hopefully exhausted enough to actually sleep the whole night through this time.
except now he's wired with a kind of overtired energy and the unexpected delight in finding her here. (in not being alone, just a little while longer.) ]
I call bullshit, Belova.
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[ she's only a little embarrassed that she practically squeaks the word out but OKAY, now it's yelena's turn to look at him in complete disbelief when his hand hovers above her head like, what the Fโ
how did she go from goldilocks to pipsqueak in five minutes flat??? ]
That was so uncalled for! I'm almost 5'4" so I am pretty much the average height of a regular Russian woman and [ she goes into a half-squat and slaps her thighs ] I have super strong legs.
[ she has half the mind to keep rolling with her bluff because it's what she does best, but it almost feels like he's going to ask her to prove it which she WILL because yelena belova does not back down from a challenge, ever. โ]
Don't think I don't know what you're doing, Barnes. You're just pulling some reverse psychology shit on me so I can give you a piggyback ride to your bed and tuck you in, yes? Men! So predictable.
shh ok NOW i vanish
and then yelena does all that, and bucky splutters. ]
What? No! Your thighs are very nice but you don't have to prove anyth—
[ except now that she'd summoned it up, now he was picturing one of them — probably him, let's be honest, despite all her bluster— carrying her towards that bed. he's suddenly realising that not having a bedroom was a newfound Problem™, because it meant the bed was just sitting right there in plain view, even when you were trying to entertain a guest in your living room. he'd never had a guest before. he hadn't thought through how intimate a studio apartment was; how all of the walls were disassembled and she'd have such a plain view into every empty corner of his life.
he didn't even have a couch. if they wanted to sit next to each other without having to pull a plain wooden dining chair beside a stuffed armchair, they'd have to sit on the bed instead. this is a Problem™!! ]
If you gotta know, what I was planning on doing was asking if you wanted a drink. Y'know, before you climb off my balcony and flee over the rooftops like Batman.
I SHOULD ALSO BE SLEEPING BUT.....
oh, does she make a face at That. it's not a bad one, though. far from it. the comment was fleeting and he probably didn't even realize that came out of his mouth, but it echoes in the back of her mind. mostly because it'll serve as good blackmail/teasing material for another time when he's not feeling so skittish, because bucky is very much like a stray cat that has no idea how to react to being approached and she knows that very well. even she can't tell if they're flirting but...
yelena is just pleasantly surprised that their bantering back and forth translates exceptionally well from text to real life, not that she ever doubted it but it's just โ refreshing. makes her feel a little closer to being normal. and that she definitely enjoys being in his presence more than she lets on.
bucky's words come to an abrupt halt and suddenly he looks like he's having a brainfart, but she doesn't pry and instead stands there, looking at him in silence. curious.
and then he clarifies, and all she can do is smile at him, cheeky as ever. ]
Well? Are you going to offer me that drink or not?
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Alright. D'you want a drink, Belova? Come inside.
[ said so offhand, casually, as if he does this all the time— except that this is the first person who's ever seen the inside of his apartment, because bucky is notoriously guarded. he lives out on mission, or visiting the wilsons in delacroix, or stopping over by the new avengers compound as it's being slowly rebuilt. people don't come here. it's a box to sleep in, and little else.
as he re-enters the apartment, he toes off his own boots and deposits them by the front door. flicks on the one hanging kitchen light, and starts rummaging through the cabinets. they are, unsurprisingly and just like she called it, just as empty as a bachelor's depressing apartment: a single set of plates and cutlery, few supplies, even fewer glasses, and so when he reaches for the whiskey he winds up pouring his into a clean coffee mug while setting aside the tumbler for her.
(the fridge might be perpetually-empty or full of expired takeout, but he does keep alcohol around. enough to try dulling himself to sleep at night, but it never really works, that metabolism chewing its way through the liquor faster than he'd like to keep up. so in terms of coping mechanisms for the nightmares, he's still never found a good one.) ]
No absinthe or vodka. If you give me more headsup next time, I can stock something you like.
[ next time, and those two little words are a nervous flutter in his chest, even as he tries to sound nonchalant about it. be cool, barnes!! ]
no subject
she follows him without another word and hums, but leaves her boots by the balcony door instead of out there like she did before. she's not sure leaving through the front door would be a good idea? she doesn't want to give off the wrong impression to his neighbours. something along the lines of, "random blonde girl is leaving the apartment of their mysterious and gruff neighbour."
she trails after bucky into his kitchen and while she did do a tour of his place โ it's not like she opened all his drawers and cabinets? imagine her unsurprise when she sees there isn't much in his cupboards. she watches him pull out the whiskey, to which she mumbles under her breath in russian โ ]
So American of you.
[ the studio is small as it is, but the kitchen is even smaller and she doesn't realize it until he's moving around to find some glasses so she occupies herself by making herself right at home and opening the fridge. ]
How many people live here? [ she kid, she kid.
but it won't hit her until later how they both kept throwing around the possibility of a "next time" on more than one occasion. how could she, when they're just engaging in normal conversation as if they don't have their own separate and busy lives to lead?
it is nice to pretend, sometimes. ]
Absinthe is a bit much. I like vodka, though. And beer. I am not really picky. I'll bring cookies next time, too.
no subject
he glances down at his drink, takes a deep swig of the amber liquid. ]
I do like beer for the flavour. Local brews. It's just kind of like juice to me, though; I can't get buzzed off it.
[ he could go through a bottle like it was water, unthinkingly, not even realising how quickly he was downing it. it really was the most annoying part about the metabolism. they'd talked about sleeping pills and how they didn't work for him, but he would've been reluctant to use them even if they did. he doesn't like something knocking him out where he isn't in control of when he wakes up. ]
How long are you stateside?
no subject
[ yelena, on the other hand, is fully aware of how fast she downs alcohol โ she's almost done with hers by the time she closes the fridge door shut.
in the corner of her eye she spots what she came here for in the first place; it's the only thing with personality in his little... humble home and though she has a committed Many A Crime โ this was one she knew deep down she couldn't do. at least, for now. who knows how bucky will make her feel ten minutes from now. ]
Beer is like juice to me, too, except I feel it... Do you even remember what it feels like to be drunk?
[ yelena sets her glass down, just to hop onto the little half-wall counter he's got going on. she really is getting too comfortable hereโ ]
Probably a week if things go according to plan. I have a lot of work to do here. Where were you before you caught me red-handed?
just mashes all this headcanon into this happier au
Technically, I think it's classified and I'm not supposed to tell.
[ but there's another hitch of his eyebrow, a sardonic expression, and bucky pushes on and tells her anyway. she might be rogue, but she's not an enemy. nat's the savviest judge of character he knows, and if she says the other woman is to be trusted these days— ]
Coming back from SHIELD headquarters. We were doing them a favour with some arms dealers working out of DC.
You ever noticed there's a shitton of heroes working out of New York? Between Spider-man and The Defenders and that time sorcerer guy, the city's pretty much covered locally. Kinda feels like the other cities need more representation.
[ which is also why he's so often away from home. any job he and sam are called out on, it's usually not happening here. ]
my turn
yelena belova is, by nature, an assassin after all.
but what she isn't, is a rat nor is she a liar. and so, when bucky continues on and tells her anyway โ there is a weight that is lifted off her shoulders. there is an unspoken understanding between them, he clearly trusts her since he indulged her. ]
Ah. Well, that definitely explains the hole in your jacket. [ she frowns some, tsking. ] Shame. It is a nice jacket.
[ there is a twitch in her brow when he brings up the heroes that reside in new york โ and it leaves a sour taste in her mouth. don't get her wrong, yelena loves what she does; knows that she is the only one that can do it, that should do it but she often wonders why there aren't more of those... heroes, looking for not just her fellow widows scattered all across the globe, but for them when they were just little girls that disappeared. because of the red room, because of dreykov.
she might only have herself to blame, really, since she is hardheaded and doesn't know how to ask for help unless it's from her family but even then, it's like pulling teeth. ]
I guess they either have their plates full or they don't care about trafficked women enough because I am still tracking down Widows, even after allll this time. [ she laughs โ coping mechanism โthen shakes her head. ] I'm glad that you and Sam are doing what you can to help outside of New York.
It is too dense and it stinks here anyway. No offense.
no subject
[ it's still mostly banter, but now his expression's gone thoughtful as he looks at her over the edge of his drink, contemplating. she might be joking, but bucky recognises that strain to the laugh, the way it's ever so slightly forced when it's about this particular topic. edging too close to home, stepping on that raw wound. and so he asks the thing, even if he has a pretty good idea that she, like him, struggles to accept help: ]
Speaking of. I've— been meaning to ask. You up for any more backup on that front?
[ the widows aren't technically his problem, but the winter soldier conditioning is. the fact that it was still alive and well and in use was a fucking nightmare. the only thing stopping him from just muscling his way into the mission right from the start was that he and yelena didn't really know each other that well yet. ]
no subject
Well. At least you don't stink like New York.
[ she flashes him a shit-eating grin โ one that lasts for all of half a second before he offers his help. which, she predicted he would eventually because he's trying to be a Good Guy. in her head, he is already.
she finishes off the rest of her drink before shaking her head again, this time almost vehemently. like what he'd asked her was the most preposterous thing she'd heard all week. ]
No. You're already occupied with the rest of the America, I'm fineโ [ correction: ] We're fine. Thank you, though.
no subject
It's not just a favour to you, for the record. I don't—
[ bucky exhales. forces himself to say the rest of this. he's not great at opening up, trusting people with these slivers of himself, but it's relevant here and so it's worth saying. why he cares about her mission. ]
A while ago, Baron Zemo cleaned up the last survivors of the Winter Soldier program. Tracked them to where they were in cold storage, and shot them all in their sleep. They were HYDRA volunteers and rotten from the start, so hell, I probably would've had to kill them too — but he took the choice away from us. From them. You, though, you've still got that chance to fix things. Properly.
Anyway. Put it in your back pocket. Keep it in mind. If you guys ever do want an extra pair of hands.
[ phrased carefully, and as if it's a normal everyday project like building a patio. but still. ]
no subject
he's right though, to think that she thinks he's just owing her a favour, because that is precisely what goes through her mind when somebody offers their help.
so she listens when he keeps going, opens up to her about things he's probably only told sam or steve or natasha.
her eyes never leave his, not even once he's said his piece. she feels vulnerable, like this; but bucky must feel it more. ]
I'm trying. [ to fix everything that dreykov destroyed, to piece them back all together one by one. ] And I know your offer is coming from a good place, too, it's just โ this feels like something we should be able to take care of on our own, you know? [ but she brings up a hand to stop him from talking, because she knows he'll tell her it's okay to ask for help and yadda yadda. ]
But I will keep you in mind. I mean it. You will be the first person I reach out to if I need help.
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as if remembering that he actually lives here and he should get comfortable too, bucky unbuckles and unzips his jacket — it's the combat one he wears when he's out on mission, because like hell is he letting the comfortable leather jacket risk bullets — and tosses it over the back of his dining chair. he tilts his head toward where the apron is still hanging. ]
You didn't take it.
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I didn't. [ she gives bucky a shrug from across the room, as she makes a beeline for the whiskeyโ ] May I?
[ she's pouring herself another drink before he could even get an answer in. typical russian behaviour, is it not? ]
But, I can take it if you want. I just figured it would be nice for me to have a reason to come back here, you know? Like how women in American movies leave a very obscure hair clip on the edge of a man's bathroom sink.
no subject
Huh, yeah. Movies taught me about that. I hear it's normally earrings and sweaters.
[ there's a small, considering pause, his head still tilted thoughtfully, his attention having shifted from the apron to her as he processes that little piece of information. ]
Leave it, then.
[ it's not as forthright as an explicit invitation, a straightforward i'd like to see you again, and yet it's about as straightforward as he's ever gonna get: his gaze steady on hers, that little almost-smile still flickering in the corner of his mouth. ]
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You'll get sick of me.
[ yelena shoots him a toothy grin, despite her threat. she is much less shy on that front; she's not afraid to show her contentment, however she does appreciate that bucky is stingy when it comes to giving those smirks of his away.
his smile is the kind that could break a heart, and she wonders if he's broken many in his lifetime. or before his time as the winter soldier. not exactly something she wants to bring up right now, as she saunters over to him with her drink in hand and his in the other. she holds it up for him to take, totally not because she's hoping for their fingers to brush or anything!! ]
What happens after I take the apron then? [ she's pushing him a little further, she knows. ] Will I have to start leaving random jewelry and mismatched socks?
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[ bucky is bemused, his voice warm as he takes his glass back — and, yes, his knuckles brush against hers as he retrieves the drink, and takes another deep swig. it never really does anything for him, doesn't make a dent in that supersoldier metabolism, but he keeps drinking anyway in the hopes of loosening himself up further, unraveling that tight knot of tension in his chest. the one that makes it feel like he's walking on a tightrope, never really knowing what to expect from her — being self-aware of his words and actions, and caring about how what someone thinks of him, for the first time in ages.
attraction has been such a foreign concept for so long, a long-dead and unfamiliar idea. experiencing it again is both good and horrible; a peculiar anxiety so different from the strain of combat in the field. ]
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it's all fun and games โ them dancing around the fact that they both want to see more of one another without actually having to say it. that's what flirting is anyway, right??
it's all fun and games until he calls her ka-bar tacky. then there's fire in her eyes, her eyes wide like he just said the most fucking ridiculous thing Ever and it's true. he has. and this is where she draws the line! yelena downs her entire glass of whiskey to process the insult. ]
You are just jealous. It's okay, I would be too. Though I should gut you for that comment, I have decided that you will live to see another day, Barnes.
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Hey, it can be tacky and well-made and murderously efficient. Both of these things can be true at once.
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she's calmed down some, but she's still agitated enough to pinch her nose bridge and wave a hand at him. melina will hear about this!! or wait. no โ if she tells melina, melina will ask a bunch of questions and then alexei will get involved, then her sister and that's just too much for her to handle right now. ]
You call it tacky one more time and it will trigger my fight or fight response.
[ yes bucky you heard that right ]
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honestly? she's a little impressed. just a little bit. ]
Really? Nothing to say? [ so she taunts him, cocks her head to the side and inches closer. ] I could take you. Tacky combat knife and all.
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Is that you challenging me to a fight?
[ not that he hasn't fought widows before; the winter soldier had, in fact, trained some of them, and so he remains intimately familiar with their particular fighting style. bucky can even still remember his most recent tussle with the avengers: the way nat threw herself at him, climbed his back, tried to choke him out. a desperate hardscrabble battle on the streets and in the government facility when he escaped, zemo's codewords acting as a lever to pry him out.
he hasn't exactly been accustomed to these sorts of scraps when it wasn't life-or-death, though. ]
No offense, but I'd rather not.
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she was trained by the best, and can hold her own against her sister. she's also put alexei into a headlock recently, but she's pretty he let her get away with that. no need for bucky to know any of that, though.
yelena's lips jut out in something that resembles a pout. ]
Why not?
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i don't fight for fun is closer to it. compared to alexei's boisterousness, armwrestles and wrestling in general and cheerful tackles in any sport, bucky tends to hold himself apart. in the end, he settles for: ]
I just got off a redeye flight, coming back from a mission. Had enough fighting today. I'm tired.
[ there's something thoughtful behind his eyes, though, and it's easy to suspect that that isn't the whole truth — not exactly — but it is at least part of it. ]
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Fine.
[ she moves over to the sink, turning the faucet on to wash her glass because she is a respectable guest and she also doesn't want to overstay her welcome. ]
Rain check on that dance, then?
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[ but he doesn't want them to part on this off-kilter, semi-tense note — he already finds himself missing their more amiable back-and-forth — and so after a moment bucky adds, like a parting gift, or an olive branch: ]
I'll practice my footwork for you before then, Belova. Gotta make sure I don't step on your toes.
[ there's that small half-smile; apologetic, almost. ]
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[ while his smile is apologetic, the one she offers is hopeful. yelena rather enjoys this inconsistent dynamic they've got going on. it's exhilarating in a way she can't quite explain, and it makes her heart race heaps quicker than it usually does on missions.
she's wiping down her glass with a washcloth she picked off from the refrigerator door (how long it's been there, she has no idea and she doesn't care).
she wishes she was the type to kiss people she liked goodbye, but she isn't. instead she runs her fingers along the fabric of the apron in a fleeting manner as she walks past it and past bucky, until she is at his balcony door โ yes, she will keep avoiding the front door for as long as she can โ and slipping back into her boots. ]
Thank you for the drink and for not shooting your friendly neighbourhood apron thiefโ Good night, James.
wrap or yours to close!
Good night, Yelena.
[ using her first name for the first time in a while, and contemplative as he watches her go, smoothly clambering over the railing and disappearing back into the night. ]
government agents want me. fish fear me.
but no ice fishing today.
it's too warm for that. frankly, a little too warm and balmy for him. but he's spent the past twenty years in a place colder than a witch's teat, what does he know? so he won't complain about the heat. indeed, alexei should consider himself blessed after everything: losing his girls, the seventh circle, almost losing his girls again, losing five years, and then losing natasha.
he is blessed. too blessed to be stressed, a delightful saying that has inched its way into his mind and life. a much better proverb to live by than the russian one that'll forever be etched on his psyche: trust but verify. he's done with that. done with the lying, the subterfuge, and the circle of accountability. he was never made for that, but he stomached it for the glory of the motherland.
but, in his heart, he is a simple man. a day fishing with his daughter and a cooler full of sodas and sandwiches made by his beautiful wife are enough to sate him for a lifetime. which is why he dragged yelena out at 8 am on a thursday to catawba island, about an hour west of their home outside cleveland. it's nice, yeah?
alexei wipes the bait muck on the inside of his hawaiian shirt. it's very cool and very red, like his uniform, with blue hibiscuses and white plumerias exploding on it like fireworks. it's been a few decades since he's fished. as a child living on the edge of society, he fished almost weekly, all year round; it was a guaranteed source of protein during the dead of winter. but that stopped when he joined the red army at seventeen then later became the red guardian. he was too preoccupied with proving himself an equal to captain america to concern himself with fishing. during their (too) brief stay in ohio, he had planned on taking natasha and yelena fishing one weekend, but he got called in to work overtime at the north institute and so the trip was canceled. the next thing alexei knew, he was laying on a plane's wing, shooting out a car's tires, as they attempted to escape to cuba, so the fishing trip never happened.
but casting the line comes naturally to him. he bends his knees a little, presses the reel button with his thumb, raises the rod over his head, and buzz. he presses the button again and kerplunk. his line lands about twenty feet out โ perfect, a cast worthy of lee wulff.
with his sharp eyes on his line, alexei pulls a pack of juicy fruit from the side pocket of his cargo shorts. they are also very cool and very convenient with all the pockets. he pops a piece in his mouth and then holds out the pack to yelena. is it still her favorite? he doesn't know, but the yellow packaging reminds him of better days, warming him as the sun's rays do on the back of his neck. ) This is nice, yeah?
( yeah, he tells himself before she does. nothing bad will happen on catawba island in their spot devoid of other people. today, they will catch fish and catch up on conversations. and maybe catch some z's too. he brought a couple of lawn chairs for when they want to take the load off. solid dad thinking on his part. maybe they'll stay so late, he'll end up needing to build a small fire here and they can eat the fish right off the bone. melina won't be happy, but she'll soften when he tells her how much fun they had. just like old times โ alexei and yelena, his little buddy. )
https://i.imgur.com/ZpJ0byT.gif
it's just unfortunate she will never tell alexei that she thinks his cargo shorts are very nice and practical, or that he looks pretty cool throwing that line into the lake, nor will she ever tell him that she once dreamed about that family fishing trip they were promised.
(she was six and dead asleep after the initial panic had worn off. she remembers her older sister piloting a cargo plane while their mother guided her and their father rested on the wing of said cargo plane. the entire time? highly likely. she doesn't recall anyone opening the door mid-flight for him.)
she's seated on the cooler that melina had insisted for them to bring along. it wasn't a half bad idea either, since her mom ended up packing it with soda and sandwiches for them to snack on while baking under the sun. yelena may have slipped a bottle of vodka in there as well.
all that only for her to take the pack of gum from alexei. it's not the best one out there, and the chewing factor falls flat with a weak 3 on a scale of 1 to 10, butโ it's still her favourite. ] This is nice. You are not cold? [ he should know better than to hand things over to her, because that pack of juicy fruit now belongs to her. in fact, she is tucking it into the pocket of her hoodie for safekeeping. thanks dad!! ]
The Seventh Circle has really done a number on your sense of temperature, truly. [ among other things, but that's okay, because he's still her dad and he's here.
she wishes natasha was still here, too. it's unfair that the world is here because of her sister, but she's gone because of it. sometimes, when yelena is on her lonesome and surrounded by nothing but the sound of her thoughts, she feels sadness. unfortunately, that inevitably bleeds into anger and although she longs to hear natasha's voice againโ she looks at alexei's shirt and breaks into the widest of smiles.
it's flashy. it's a little tacky. but it's so like him. natasha would agree. ] Are you sure you know how to catch fish? It's been [ she checks her shiny new apple watch she totally didn't steal ] approximately one minute.
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Catching fish is easier if two people do it. ( there's your cue yelena to get up and earn your keep. funny phrase that. another russian proverb that still rattles around in his head. in russia, everyone is expected to work and pull their weight, or else they starve. it's ingrained in their society. even before communism when the land was worked on by serfs for the tsar: work or die. the method of death varied, but it always came. but here in america, everyone helps each other, whether they deserve it or not. it was a culture shock that took alexei some time to become accustomed to, more than the resentment of being shipped off to ohio, the name change, and the sudden family.
if they were in russia, he wouldn't let her eat any of the fish he catches or also any of the food in the cooler. but, here in america, he'd let her eat all the fish and the food in the cooler even if she didn't move all day. perhaps that's getting soft from western decadence or perhaps that's just being a father.
alexei grabs the fishing rod holder he made earlier that week from pvc pipe and metal hooks, plants it in the hard compacted sand, and sticks his fishing rod in it. he grabs the other fishing rod, this one smaller than his and purple. if it had rainbow tassels and a barbie sticker, it'd look exactly like the handlebars of yelena's childhood bike. )
Come. I will teach you.
( he taught her to tie shoes, ride a bike, and throw a knife. well, she taught herself how to ride a bike after natasha kept leaving her behind because yelena was still a "training wheel-using baby" who couldn't keep up. but alexei held the bike long enough for yelena to get on and speed off after her sister.
well, fishing is the same basic principle as tying shoes, riding a bike, throwing a knife, and proving someone wrong (though the someone, in this case, are the fishes who dare think they can swim past them). she's got this. )