You take the man out of the city, not the city out of the man

[stillfriends]

Natasha had learned long ago that worrying was a waste of time. You crossed bridges as they came. Was it necessary to have multiple plans in case that particular bridge was lined with dynamite or occupied by opposing forces? Absolutely. But having a plan or improvising in the moment was different than constantly fretting over all the what ifs and wasting time and energy on something that may never come. Therefore she didn't worry when Steve missed their weekly check-in. She knew that he had his hands full with his recently deprogrammed best friend and ex-Hydra agent and she knew better than to take it personally.

But she felt the foreign feeling of worry enter her mind when it had been 48 hours later and Steve had yet to check in. She had expected a (needless) apology and a report on how Bucky was dealing with things this week. She knew that the check ins were more than just about each other's safety, it was also because they were a team, even if the Avengers was just another piece of Natasha's past. When she tried his phone there was no answer and she refused to call too many times, a stubborn part of her still hating to admitting any kind of vulnerability, even now. Even with Steve.

Which is why she had decided that when her current solo mission was over she would simply drop in on the two men at the safehouse that Steve had mentioned they would be using last week. Worst case scenario was that they weren't there and she'd have to start tracking their whereabouts from the location they'd been at last contact. Best case scenario, they'd gotten so caught up with the mission or each other that Steve had merely forgotten to check in or check his phone - which was laughable for Captain America, but possibly not beyond the possibility depending on circumstances.

She had flown in on the redeye, taking a cab from the airport to a busy and touristy part of Luxembourg City before slipping into a cafe and then out the back alley. From there, she'd walked the rest of the way to the safe house, nestled in a quiet neighborhood with very little traffic and private estates. This was one of the nicer safe houses, though the rooms were small and densely decorated in standard European fashion. She'd bypassed the gate and climbed the wall instead, not being able to help herself from catching Steve off guard. She knew it would amuse him if she defeated his defenses, though she was less certain about how Bucky might react.

Which was why she was quiet as she opened the back door to the kitchen and tried to ascertain where the men were in the house before making her presence known. The last thing she wanted to do was catch the Winter Soldier off guard and cause Steve any more grief as they moved room to room, destroying the safe house in the process. She set her bag down on the kitchen table and followed the soft sound of music down a dark hallway to a brighter living room, trying to stay in the shadow of the hallway for as long as she could. She made out the shadow of Bucky against a bookcase, her eyes sweeping the room for any sign of Steve. There wasn't one, and as much as she had wanted to surprise him first, she thought it was best to let her presence be known.

"Hey," she said, stepping out of the hallway and knocking on the doorframe to telegraph her presence so as not to startle him.

Comments

[notworthallthis]

The music is old. Familiar. From a time so long past it’s hard to hold onto, try as he might. Things were easier then. Simpler. Or it’s just the rose-colored glasses of looking back. Hard to say, sometimes.

As silent on her feet as she is, Bucky still knew the second she had entered the house. There was a sudden shift in the air. A feeling of knowing he is suddenly not alone. Steve returning from his supply run, maybe.

But Steve doesn’t bother with sneaking around, not when Bucky still doesn’t feel like he can trust himself, no matter how much trust Steve has in him. They’re at odds on that fact, but it’s okay, they don’t have to agree; Bucky is just glad he still has him, that everything he’s done didn’t put a wedge between that couldn’t be removed. He would be in a much darker place without that, he thinks.

Her footsteps are light, and the knock on the doorframe makes his whole body go tense. His fingers twitch at his side, itching and eager to grab the knife tucked into boot.

But the familiar, low pitch of her voice lets a portion of that tension ease out again. His eyes slide shut with the soft sigh that escapes him. After a moment, he abandons the bookshelf to turn toward her, “You need to get better about announcing yourself,” he says and it’s somehow both a warning and a teasing jab all at once.

[stillfriends]

"A little counter productive for a spy," she teases back easily, though her eyes move up from his hand to his face as if she'd been ready to anticipate the possibility of a fight. She leans against the doorway, crossing her arms and taking him in. He looks better than he had before, his eyes not quite as haunted or hollow, but there's still something about him that gives off the impression that he's not entirely comfortable in his own skin.

"Doing some afternoon reading?" She asks, nodding towards the bookshelf behind him. It's been a while since she's been in this house, but she thinks she remembers most of the books being classics. Fine in a pinch, but she prefers to watch television if she has the choice.

She and Steve had spent almost two weeks here a few years ago after SHIELD wanted them to lay low after a particularly internationally murky mission in Germany. She'd had to make a last minute jump from a building without the benefits of super soldier serum and had spent it miserably recovering from two cracked ribs and a dislocated shoulder. Steve had made a surprisingly good nurse, if a little too attentive at times. She smiles at the memory, remembering the way he'd looked away when he'd helped her remove her shirt and she'd teased him.

[notworthallthis]

“Wasn’t aware you felt the need to spy on me,” he quips back just as easily, eyebrows arched curiously as his eyes sweep over her form, lithe and sharp in the doorway. He would be both surprised and unsettled to hear that thought from her— because she’s right. He isn’t comfortable here. In this time. In this house. In this body. Nothing feels… right or like it’s really his. His body. His thoughts. His mind. None of it.

“Just… trying to lay low,” and stay busy. Distracted, really. He doesn’t like having down time, or time to think. It’s easy to stay busy with so much history, political, social, and otherwise, to catch up on. But he knows it isn’t exactly the most sustainable plan, either. It’s still working, for now, at least.

He nods toward her, “What are you doing here, Natasha?” he can’t imagine she came searching for him- Steve, he doesn’t even begin to count himself as important to her, or on her radar as much beyond a potential threat- for no reason. She isn’t exactly the ‘just dropping by to say hi’ sort of friend, afterall.

[stillfriends]

"Don't take it personally. I spy on everyone." She gives him a small grin and pushes herself off the doorway, moving further into the room. It was what she was before she was anything or anyone else, and will probably be what she will always be, the only thing that is different is who she works for and the ability to work for herself when she needs to.

She hums in acknowledgement of his answer, stopping a few feet in, a flash of amusement in her eyes. "Bored out of your mind?" She supplies, raising her eyebrows slightly. She knows the feeling. There's nothing worse than being benched when you're ready to go and forget your past in the present. Too much time to think.

She drops into an armchair, reaching down to feel underneath the end table next to it. Her fingers brush the comforting cool steel of a stashed gun. It's always good to have them ready, even at the safest of safe houses. If she remembers correctly, there's another one stashed in the floorboard of the second bedroom. She looks up at him and shrugs. "I was in the neighborhood. Wanted to make sure you boys weren't in trouble."

[notworthallthis]

“And here I thought I was just special,” this is such an easy thing to fall into with her, and he doesn’t really have any idea why but he doesn’t mind it. Likes it, even. It just feels… very normal, in a way so many parts of his life never do. There is an irony in there, he knows, but he doesn’t care— it’s nice to have something that feels that way.

He can’t help the way his eyes track her movements, a little too much like maybe she’s a target, except it’s only a little curiosity in his eyes. That’s what she is to him, in some ways— a curious little mystery, who he feels strangely safe with. Maybe it’s because he knows that worse to worst, she wouldn’t hesitate in taking him down. Whether that meant restraint or something else would depend entirely on the situation.

One corner of his mouth quirks up into a matching smirk at her assessment and he relents with a half-sigh, half-laugh, “Yeah, honestly, I’m kinda going a little stir crazy.”

She sinks into the chair, really just making herself at home here. Bucky hasn’t been able to do that quite so easily, but maybe that’s just because he isn’t sure what home is supposed to feel like anymore.

He finally accepts that whatever he may have been doing before is sufficiently tabled for later and wanders over to drape himself across the couch, head tilted to turn toward her and see her better.

“In the neighborhood… for what, exactly?” She had her own missions she went on, independently of the rest of them. He knew that much, but the full extent of the nature of it all, he didn’t really know what to expect.

[stillfriends]

She sees a hint of the man in Steve's old photos when he smiles and it makes her glad that there's still a trace of him there. She'd been afraid, like Sam, that maybe there wasn't any of that man left and Steve would have to grieve again.

"You," she says, giving a small shrug. "Steve usually checks in weekly, so when he didn't I wanted to make sure everything was 10-4." It may sound like worry, but she tells herself it's just being practical. It doesn't help her any if the rest of her team is not able to back her up. Nevermind, that they're more like family now. If she's honest with herself, she still has a soft spot for Tony, even after everything with the Accords. She knows he's trying his best to do the right thing and that means something, even if it all went sideways.

Sam's back home, dealing with family stuff and trying to avoid Ross's men. She talked to him a few days ago. She knows Clint and Scott are back with their families also, even if it's under house arrest. She's not sure where Wanda is, but she doesn't think she'll be hard to find when they need to find her. She has tabs on everyone, except these two. It's a matter of personal pride to know what everyone is doing. She's not a fan of surprises.

"Don't worry, I'm just passing through," she says. "I won't be in your hair for too long."

[notworthallthis]

He’s still finding his way back to the man he used to be. He’s accepted he won’t— can’t— ever be the same, but if he could hold onto a few pieces of who he used to be? Maybe that would be enough.

“So you were worried,” he points out, an eyebrow half-raised in question and amusement twisting his mouth at the edges. It’s… sweet. And kind of cute.

“You don’t have to rush off if you don’t want to,” he shrugs a little. A little extra company might be nice.

[stillfriends]

"No. Of course not," she says with mock offense, leaning back against the armchair. "Worried about America's most wanted Avenger and the world's former most deadly assassin? What's the worst that could happen?"

She's usually better about choosing her words more carefully, but she's a little put off by the fact that she's so obvious. Still, she gives him a wry smile to show that she doesn't actually mean that she has anything to worry about with his presence there. She may still have some reservations, but if they were valid, they would've been proven right by this point and time already. She doesn't believe Bucky Barnes is a threat. At least, not to Steve.

She tilts her head slightly, as if considering his offer. "I'll think about it," she promises. "How long do you intend on staying?" She's surprised they've been here this long, if she's honest. Steve usually only stays in one place for a week at the most.

[notworthallthis]

“That’s not a question I like to ask too much, these days.” Because what happened to him in the end was worse than anything me might have once been able to dream up.

He doesn’t buy her posturing at all— he gets it, why she might not want to or be ready or able to admit that’s actually what it was. Caring for people can be terrifying, especially when you’re not used to it. Human nature is hard to fight, and there is a part of every person out there that wants to be wanted and accepted and loved. Maybe not by everyone. Maybe just by one person or a few, selectively. Even lone wolves and spies need people around once in awhile.

He shrugs a little at the question. “I dunno… I kinda like the quiet.” It isn’t just the lack of city sounds he’s talking about, it’s also the noise in his head— it’s not so busy in his mind. He has a silly little theory about all the snow making all his thoughts disappear but that’s all it is. A silly little thing he tells himself to feel better.

And maybe it’s working, just a little bit.

[stillfriends]

Her lips thin into a small line and she nods slightly. She can't blame him for not tempting fate, or the universe, or whatever else might be out there pulling everyone's strings.

"You sound like Steve," she says, smiling faintly at him before sitting up a little straighter. "Must be an old person thing." She gives him a crooked grin and then glances around the room. Her eyes fall on a stack of boardgames shoved into one of the bookshelves.

"If you're tired of catching up on your reading, I could be persuaded to play a game for the right stakes."

[notworthallthis]

"Well, we are best friends..." he points out easily. "And hey- I'm not that old," he quips back the most instant kneejerk thing that springs to mind, but there's a smirk on his face when he says it.

He follows her gaze and both brows arch upward when she makes the comment about a game. "Oh, yeah?" he glances back over at her, curiosity in his tone, "And what kind of stakes might be the right ones?"

[stillfriends]

"Old enough," she points out easily enough, fixing him with a look that dares him to argue. Still, she grins at how defensive he sounds. Steve and him really are starting to sound like one another.

"The bedroom with the queen bed," she says, moving over to the shelf and unearthing a few dusty boxes before blowing the dust off of them. She knows that all she has to do is ask and Steve would give it to her, but this is more fun. The other bedrooms have a full and two twins respectively, if she remembers correctly. She picks up a monopoly game and sets it aside. "Too long." She picks up Battleship and holds it up for Bucky's consideration. "Too ironic?"

[notworthallthis]

“Don’t remind me,” he crinkles his nose. He supposes it’s lucky he doesn’t feel his age, but… it makes a lot of things really strange when he thinks about it too long. Steve is… probably the only one that can really understand how that feels.

“All right,” he says with a soft laugh, “I’ll take those stakes.” He scans their options, smirking a little at her own comments. “Play any cards?” He asks, eyeing the old playing deck perched in the shelf, glancing back over his shoulder at her. “Poker? Spades? Gin?”

[stillfriends]

"Cards," she repeats, giving him a brief nod before picking up the deck and tossing it at him. "For someone who doesn't like to press their luck, you're putting a fair amount of faith in it."

"Texas Hold'em," she says, pulling out a chair at the small card table in the corner and taking a seat. She crosses her legs and leans back, grinning up at him. "How many hands do you want to play?"

She imagines the Howling Commandos probably played their fair share of cards during their war campaign, but she and Clint had also played for what felt like weeks on end between assignments or on nights when there was nothing else to keep them occupied. She'd picked up the game quickly and feels confident in her skill.

[notworthallthis]

He smirks slightly at her words, walking over to join her at the table, unpacking the cards from the case which he sets aside before he starts to shuffle the deck.

“Best two out of three?” He suggests as he deals the first hand and picks up his set of cards to judge his selection. It’s not like he had much else to do, anyway, and it’s a good way to pass the time.

[stillfriends]

She nods, watching his hands as he shuffles. His fingers are skilled and quick, not surprising, but interesting to watch. She slides the dealt cards across the table and glances at them, determining her options. It's a good hand.

She pretends to think about it for a few more beats before she looks back up at him. "How's everything else going?"

It's a loaded question, she knows. She waits for it to land, watching him carefully.

[notworthallthis]

“I think I’m gonna need you to be more specific,” he says with a glance back up at her as he discards a few of his hand for what is hopefully going to make a better hand now.

He’s mostly being facetious, it’s easier than being genuine.

[stillfriends]

She smirks at him, sliding her discarded cards across the table. She lets out a small smile. "Well, have you had the urge to kill anyone lately?"

She's joking. They joke about the things that would probably be horrifying to most normal people. Besides, it's not like Bucky's a serial killer with uncontrollable urges for blood and mayhem, he'd been a weapon, only following the directions of the hand that had pointed him. Same as she had been.

[notworthallthis]

"Not lately," he admits with a slight shake of his head. He can only imagine how Steve might react to this conversation; he knows gallows humor isn't exactly his favorite kind, even if they all participated in it to a certain extent back during the war. It's different with this... with anything about HYDRA's hand controlling him, Steve takes is all to a completely different level. Which... is fine. Bucky gets that, the whole experience was on a level he never could have imagined. But sometimes... the intensity in which he tries to separate Bucky from the Winter Soldier... Bucky just has a hard time accepting it like he knows Steve wishes he would. That he ever could, one day.

Natasha understands it in a deeper kind of way, the sort of way Steve will never be able to, and it's kind of nice to have someone know that part of it, too. There's almost a strange kind of balance between the two, and Bucky isn't sure he'd be where he is now without both sides to flank and support him in their own ways.

Not that he has any idea how to put any of it into words to say to either of them.

[stillfriends]

She smiles faintly, taking in her options with sharp eyes before she retrains them on him. She looks for any kind of tells in his expression, not just in regards to his hand, but also to the matter at hand. She appreciates someone who can joke about the worst thing that has ever happened to them, possibly the world. Not everyone can. Steve, for all his virtues, sometimes has a hard time swallowing the bitterness with a little bit of sugar.

“Good,” she says, giving him a small nod as her eyes sweep her cards one more time. She lays them down on the table. “Full house.” A small one, but enough to beat half of most hands. She'll take those odds.

"I know it's a small consolation, but that's good."

[notworthallthis]

He chuckles as he shows his own hand— three of a kind. “I guess you win,” he says, voice light and amused. She might need to be the one to direct just how many rounds they play, because Bucky is from a time when cards were one of the only entertainments out there. He could play for awhile, and she might get bored sooner.

“I’d like the nightmares to slow down,” he admits with a soft, heavy sigh. It might be his least favorite part of the whole situation, honestly.

[stillfriends]

"I usually do." It's not bragging if it's the truth. Then again, her usual partner is Clint, or recently, Steve, who both have open books for faces. Bucky is a welcome challenge, detached but with definite things rolling under the surface.

She presses her lips together and gives him a small nod as she reshuffles the cards. "Are they the same ones each night?" She'd dreamt about, and sometimes still did, Dreykov's daughter often after she'd defected. She's no soldier, but she knows that there is always collateral damage in any war. It didn't help her sleep any sounder at night.

[notworthallthis]

He lets out a single, soft, 'ha' at her own teasing comment. She's probably only half-joking; Natasha does strike him as the type to often be right, even if no one else in the room can see it in the moment.

"Not always," he admits, and once the cards for the next hand are dealt, he picks up his set of cards and considers them for a moment. "there's a lot of Greatest Hits for my brain to decide to get stuck on at any given time, though..." Despite how much time he spent under cryostasis, there were plenty of missions through the decades, and none of them ended in a good light.

[stillfriends]

"Have you tried tea?" She asks with a straight face, glancing up at him over her cards as she rearranges them in her hand. "I've heard chamomile is great."

It's flippant, she knows, but she also knows he's not looking for a solution. There are some things that can't be stopped. Memories that can't be or won't be forgotten or forgiven.

She sighs, lowering her eyes to her cards. "Sometimes the only thing worse than a bad night's sleep is a good one." There really was no winning. If you remembered, you were haunted, if you forgot, then you were the monster.

[notworthallthis]

"I don't think they make a sleepytime tea strong enough for super soldiers," he tosses back at her, his lips quirked in a soft smirk. He really likes the back-and-forths he can fall into with her, it's easy and it's so nice to have anything feel easy these days.

He shakes his head and discards two cards to replace with new ones. "I'll let you know if I agree when I manage to have one." It's been a long time since he has even slept through a single night.

[stillfriends]

"If things weren't so complicated with Stark, he might be able to come up with something for you." Him or Bruce. But she doesn't know where Bruce is and she doesn't think she will know anytime soon, either. Another mistake. Another casualty in the name of war.

She presses her lips together, keeping her eyes on the cards. "Do you want to talk about them?"