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

[ 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?

Rain check.

[ 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. ]

It's okay if you step on my toes. I know you're a little rusty, grandpa.

[ 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 — yes, she will keep avoiding the front door for as long as she can — and slipping back into her boots. ]

Thank you for the drink and for not shooting your friendly neighbourhood apron thief— Good night, James.

[ bucky trails her to the exit, eventually propped against the doorway, shoulder and hip leaning against the doorframe as she steps out into the clamour on the balcony, the noise of the city swallowing them both back up. he's a hugger when he's finally comfortable with someone — pulling sam into it, arms clapping against shoulders — but they're not quite there yet, so he just watches her movements as she laces up her boots. the graceful turn of her shoulder, trained like a dancer; her laissez-faire ease with everything. ]

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. ]

⧗ 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫-𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝

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