AN I don't own Marvel or any of its characters!

"I want you to be honest with me, Buck." He just nodded, continuing to put the fruit away in the fridge. He had no problem being honest with Steve. Sometimes it took him a minute and sometimes he couldn't remember enough to answer, but he never tried to lie or hide anything from the man.

"What's with you and Nat?" He hid a smile, turning back to the fridge.

"What do you mean?" It wasn't a lie, it wasn't saying there was nothing, just a clarification. Right? But Steve narrowed his eyes at him in that disappointed way that only Captain America could do and just shook his head

"Don't do that. I'm serious on this one." Bucky sighed slightly-not enough for Steve to hear-and finally faced the man. If he was going to say it, he was going to make sure Steve knew he wasn't kidding or lying. No part of him was.

"Between me and Nat?" It felt weird calling her that, even now, but Steve nodded. "I love her." That was like a punch to Steve's stomach that he couldn't block to save his life. He almost doubled over in the kitchen right then and there, but Bucky just stood and waited for him to recover. He reeled on him, spluttering.

"You can't!" But Bucky just kept his face blank.

"I can, actually, I have a full range of emotion." But Steve was both glaring and stuttering at him, as if trying to understand. What seemed to take him even more by surprise was how blatantly he said it-he wasn't trying to hide it, especially not from Steve. No one had ever asked.

"No, I mean you can't love her." Steve had composed himself a bit, but still shook his head. "She's… dangerous, Buck. She's not healthy and she's Russian and she can't possibly be good for you. Besides, as much as I care about her, I don't think she's capable of feeling that way about someone." Bucky just shrugged and began to wash the dishes in the sink. Steve all but ripped the faucet out of the counter, trying to get him to look at him again, but Bucky remained calm. Even if Steve's anger still scared him.

"What you're doing is self destructive. She can't love you-she doesn't know how-and she won't. You're going to get hurt. Badly. She's a weapon-"

"So am I." That made Steve stop, if only for a second. But it was good. He understood the man's concerns but he could only take hearing so many negative things about Natasha before it started to eat at him. Steve just sighed.

"Just… be careful, okay?"

"Always am, Stevie."

It'd started early on, maybe his first or second night at the tower. He'd woken up in a cold sweat, plagued by nightmares as usual, and had decided to dare wandering to the kitchen for water. She'd been waiting.

"Rough night?" She was calm, sitting perched on the counter with a bag of dried fruit in her hand, but something about her seemed off. He hadn't known her very long but he'd been trained to watch. To observe. To notice when even the slightest detail of someone was out of place, no matter how deep it went. She just calmly waited for an answer.

"Aren't they all?" That made her smile and he surprised himself at how much he liked that sight. He almost… remembered it? She held out the bag in offering and he took a handful before hopping up on the counter opposite her.

"They don't have to be." She was offering something, more than the dried fruit, but he wasn't overly eager to take an offer he didn't fully understand so he just waited. They both did that a lot, he'd noticed-waiting. They both watched each other, too. Another bad habit.

"Do you remember what we used to do?" The Russian made him look up, clearly her goal, but he hesitated. He could tell from their first fight that he knew her-or at least he'd known her before-but he couldn't quite place her.

"Did I train you?" She smiled, tossing him another piece of fruit when she noticed he'd run out.

"In more ways than one." He just watched her-again, that soviet habit-but she just smiled back at him, not concerned in the slightest. She gave him a little chuckle when he still looked confused and hopped off the counter. Slowly, she moved to stand between his legs. She was shorter than him, even without the counter's height difference, but she didn't seem to mind looking up at him or being physically close to him. Funny, considering he could still see the bruises on her neck from his metal hand.

He couldn't look away, which he imagined was her intention, but she just flashed him a little smirk and slowly turned her back to him. It was rather trusting, he thought, and surprised him. But it was a nice surprise, he decided, because he hadn't expected any of them to trust him after the shit he'd done. Slowly, she wound her hand into her hair and pulled it over her shoulder. Then up, slightly. Lifting it so he could see the back of her neck. And there, just below her hairline, was a tiny tattoo of a red star. Suddenly, it all fit.

"Natalia…" She let her hair fall and turned to face him again, smiling, but it was more genuine this time. "You made it out?" He recognized her easily, and he knew her, but he wasn't going to touch her. As much as he wanted to reach out and pull her close, to reassure himself that his prize pupil and-dare he say-his best friend was okay, but he didn't want to scare her. He understood that she was scared of him.

"Thanks to you, yes." But she was the one who reached out. She slid her hands up his thighs to his waist, then up and around his midsection. Tentatively, she pulled him to the edge of the counter and leaned into his chest but he didn't fight her or even react. He was too shocked.

"You're not scared of me?" She just laughed and nuzzled against his shirt. It felt so unbelievably good to hear her laugh, to feel it resonate in his chest, that he almost couldn't breathe. Hesitantly, he lifted his human hand and put one arm around her shoulders.

"Of course not," she laughed, encouraging his touch with soft little shifts into him. "Why would I be? It's like the movies always say: the student has surpassed the master." It was his turn to scoff and he pulled away slightly but she just laughed and pushed her way back into him. He hugged her against him with both arms-not even realizing it.

"I thought I told you to never be arrogant, my little spider." The petname was a test. He couldn't tell if he was testing her, or just testing the situation because it all seemed a little too perfect to be true, but she just smiled.

"I thought I told you I don't take orders, my little wolf." And that… There weren't words to describe that that petname did to him. He sank into her touch like it was some kind of trigger, like he was relaxing for the first time in over thirty years, but she was ready and she caught him. Because she knew. She knew him.

"Please…" He meant to say please don't, as in please don't push him or please don't use that name when she knew exactly what it did to him, but his voice cut out. It was just a please, begging her for something he couldn't name. She heard him, though, and gently let go of one side of his waist to slide a hand up his chest. He hissed when she passed over the stitches in his chest, but she was gentle. She was always gentle. She cupped the back of his neck and lowered his head to her shoulder, easily.

"Come to my room, little wolf?" It was a question, though, not a command and she waited for him to hear it and respond before even moving an inch. He nodded, not thinking. Together, they stood and she led him to the door that he memorized the location of immediately. She was a safe space, if he ever sunk low enough to need her. But he was kidding himself if he thought he didn't need her now, lost in the way she held his waist and the way she touched his skin. They sank onto the bed and fell into their usual position. He fell asleep almost immediately, just breathing in her scent and focusing on her heartbeat against his cheek, but she just smiled and coaxed him to relax even faster. It was the first time he'd slept without nightmares since leaving her.

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