viuva | ⧗ 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫-𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝

[ your thighs are very nice, he says and —

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 — 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?

[ she smiles at him, and bucky feels it like a hook lodging in his sternum and easily leading him around, falling right into every one of her traps, but— y'know, he doesn't mind one bit. instead, he flashes a quick and fleeting smile at her as he gestures at the door, and then just turns and leads the way, ducking back into the apartment. ]

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!! ]

[ yelena looks visibly taken aback at the sudden assertiveness from his part, but there is that smile again. it makes her feel a little funny, makes her face feel a little warm. (could just be that new york is disgusting and humid, though.)

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 — 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 — ]

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.

Only if the cookies are homemade. I don't care if it's Pillsbury, it still counts. [ bucky clinks his ceramic mug against the edge of her glass, and then leans back against the counter, one ankle crossed over the other as he bemusedly watches her poke around like a nosy dog, metaphorically sniffing through his disaster of a kitchen. and just as promised, the license to grill apron is still hanging safely off a hook nearby — the only bit of homeyness in this whole place, so no wonder it was stolen.

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?

Oh my god. Thank you for saying that. I get into arguments! All the time! ...over what counts as homemade or not. Because, I really feel like if you didn't buy the finished product at a store and pop it into your oven — it's homemade, no?

[ yelena, on the other hand, is fully aware of how fast she downs alcohol — 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 — 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 here— ]

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?

[ it's another strange balance: bucky initially thought he would've been overprotective of his space, touchy about someone being here at all, making themselves at home like this. but instead, it warms something inside him. one of the nicest things about being down in delacroix was how easily he'd been welcomed into the wilsons' home, accepted as one of their community (their family?). the fact that they treated him as nothing special, not something to be frightened of: just sam's friend. yelena's nonchalance has a similar effect. it chips away at those built-up walls of his, the accumulated years' worth of loneliness and mistrust, as she slips right past those boundaries. ]

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. ]

[ yelena takes another swig of the whiskey in her glass as she waits for bucky to touch base on that technicality but if he doesn't, she wouldn't blame him. she is by no means truly bad, anymore at least, but she still very much tiptoes along the line of a morally grey area.

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 — 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 — 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 — coping mechanism —then 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.

Normally I'd argue to defend New York's honour, but... well, you're right. I still like it, though. And believe it or not, it was worse before. No Environmental Protection Agency back in my day.

[ 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. ]

[ yelena hops off the railing and does a quick sidestep to close the distance between them — as much as he will let her, really — and gives him a quick sniff. she smells mostly whiskey, hard leather but, ]

Well. At least you don't stink like New York.

[ she flashes him a shit-eating grin — 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 fine— [ correction: ] We're fine. Thank you, though.

[ normally, having someone up close and in his personal space would feel like a threat — a danger — something to get away from at all costs. but yelena is to be trusted, bucky reminds himself, and something lurches in his chest when she steps so close and he lets her. he rarely gets to be so close to people. so he doesn't tense up, precisely, but he does go even more still and quiet. a watchful predator. ]

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. ]

Edited 2021-07-26 20:43 (UTC)

[ she half-expects for bucky to jerk away from the lack of distance between them, in an effort to create space but much to her surprise — he doesn't. she won't think about it too much, not now anyway and will probably dwell on it later when she's keeping a watchful eye on her mark but for now? she takes it as him trusting her enough not to gut her when she's less than a foot from him.

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 — 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.

Okay. Good. [ it's an awkward, stilted pause — neither of them are good at gratitude. and the widows occupy a strange in-between space. they're her baggage to sort out, and in an intellectual way, bucky's aware it's probably stupid to feel so responsible for the winter soldier tech, but it still feels like there's a loose end he neglected to fully wrap up somewhere. the heel that had been on her throat had been honed and crafted at his neck first, with the red room iterating on technology from HYDRA. people kept fucking innovating in the wrong place.

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.

[ there is a stillness that hangs between them like bait. but neither of them seem to bite. yelena can find solace in peace and quiet, though years of training to be the greatest child assassin there ever was will do that. it's why she watches him, her eyes following him as he moves to sit, she assumes anyway, on one of four (maybe five? she's not exactly keeping count) pieces of furniture in his humble abode. then her gaze falls upon the apron. ]

I didn't. [ she gives bucky a shrug from across the room, as she makes a beeline for the whiskey— ] 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.

[ always, always catching him by surprise. bucky snorts in amusement and then drains the rest of his drink, shoving the empty glass further out for yelena to refill his while she's at it. ]

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. ]

[ she pours the alcohol into the mug of her gracious host until it's about halfway — the man can drink, anyway. ]

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?

Random jewelry. Mismatched socks. Really tacky combat knives. Spare ammunition.

[ 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. ]

[ that was nice, yelena thinks. but then she thinks that she really needs to touch some grass if that was all it took for the hair on the back of her neck to stand.

it's all fun and games — 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.

[ infuriatingly, her anger just seems to bounce right off his bemusement. because it's all too familiar: it's similar to the way sam needles at him, stokes bucky's irritation until he's fuming and complaining for so little reason at all. so he just smirks back. ]

Hey, it can be tacky and well-made and murderously efficient. Both of these things can be true at once.

[ yelena should know better than to even reply, but she doesn't know how to shut up.

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 — 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 ]

[ his mouth opens — he really can't resist the siren call of a challenge like that, like a kid being told not to touch the wet paint — but, with frankly herculean effort, bucky lets his mouth snap shut instead. and he just shoots her a sardonic look, the tilt of an eyebrow, as he takes another sip of his drink. okay. look? he can stay quiet too! sometimes! ]

[ yelena pulls a bucky and stares. she stares and stares and stares until he's convinced her that he's really not going to say anything.

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.

[ an incredulous blink. she isn't alexei's daughter, but man, she also really is alexei's daughter. ]

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.

[ it's a simple answer. there's a sure, solemn nod to his question.

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?

[ "i don't want to hurt you" is the truth, but he can already guess how that would be received: not well. it would sound patronising, condescending, implying she can't actually hold her own in a fight, when that's not really the point.

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. ]

[ yelena doesn't buy it — not totally anyway, but. she knows the feeling all too well. bucky does look tired (doesn't he always?) so she concedes. ]

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?

⧗ 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫-𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝

I SHOULD ALSO BE SLEEPING BUT.....

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just mashes all this headcanon into this happier au

my turn

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wrap or yours to close!