Work Text:
Natasha was up late working, her boyfriend long ago having given up on coaxing her to join him for some sleep. She would sneak in later, she would insist, but she had to get her work done before she could.
She wasn’t sure what time it was when she heard him padding into the kitchen -- though by the way her vision was beginning to blur the words on her screen, she could guess it was fairly late. It couldn’t hurt to get up and stretch, she thought as she stood and moved quietly towards the kitchen.
James stood over the sink, pouring himself a glass of water. His hair was messy and his clothes wrinkled, but she couldn’t see his face, and he hadn’t bothered to turn the light in the kitchen on. He was illuminated instead by the light from outside, street lamps and city lights and the pale moon shining through strips in the blinds, and even the dull red glow of the oven clock.
“Can’t sleep?” she asked gently, leaning against the door frame.
“Oh, no,” he said, turning around to lean against the counter. He took a sip of his water and set the glass down again, keeping his eyes facing downward -- though she could see the shadows beneath them even in the dark. “I definitely got to sleep, alright.”
She frowned, stepping into the kitchen towards him. The tile was cool on her bare feet as she moved, taking his metal hand and kissing it. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really,” he said, unsurprisingly, though Natasha wouldn’t say she wasn’t still disappointed.
“Okay,” she said, “Do you want to go back to sleep?”
He sighed, shaking his head. “You don’t have to stay up with me.”
“Nonsense,” she said with a small smile, “Besides, I have an idea.”
“Oh?”
“C’mere,” she said softly, and stepping backwards she tugged him with her, bringing them out into the middle of the kitchen. Once there, she settled a hand on his shoulder and pulled him close.
“You want to dance?” he asked, raising an eyebrow but still placing a hand at her waist.
“In the middle of the night, in our dark kitchen?” Natasha said, “Why, of course. What better time?”
After a moment, Bucky grinned and began to lead the way. He waltzed her around the kitchen, elegant and graceful despite their messy and casual appearances and their less than ideal ballroom.
Even better, she could feel the tension seeping away as they danced, releasing with every step. They moved their dance out of the kitchen, into the living room where the light from Natasha’s computer cast spinning figures onto the walls. At last they arrived in the bedroom, where the sight of the bed seemed to remind them both of the time.
They nearly broke apart, though Bucky still held onto her hand as he attempted to pull her into bed. She pulled back, and when he seemed dismayed she promised she’d be right there -- removed herself to shut down her computer and clean up her work. When she returned he was nearly asleep already, but he still managed to pull her in towards him when she crawled under the covers.
“Good night, zvezda moya,” she said softly, pressing a soft kiss to his chest.
He hummed pleasantly as he slipped deeper into sleep, pulling her with him.