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"Five times you've put a bullet in me," Natasha growled in Russian and downed her vodka. "Five times and you think I will let you share my space again."
Steve stared back and forth between her and Bucky, not quite understanding the flickers of confusion then recognition on Bucky's face.
"Five times," Bucky said slowly, in English.
"You shot me when I asked you to leave Russia with me," she reminded him, pointedly keeping the Russian. "You shot me when I left without you. You've been tracking me down and sticking bullets in me ever since. Hide and go seek. I keep hiding and you keep showing up, and now you want to be an Avenger?"
Bucky stared at her, brows drawn together in a dark frown of concentration. Finally he huffed out a sigh and said, again in the English everyone else staring at their interchange could understand, "Natashenka, you know you would have done the same."
She studied him coolly. Natasha had always been able to hold her liquor well.
"You can shoot me. Will that make you feel better?" he demanded, exasperated in the way he'd often been when she was a little spitfire in training and he was the unlucky comrade ordered to train her.
She cocked her head, considering that. "If we play this game again, I will."
He leaned forward and gave her a peck on the forehead. "Agreed."
Clint leaned back and shook out his newspaper. "And that, Tony, is why I told you I don't make her mad."