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He hasn’t seen Natasha in fortnight, maybe more.
It’s not from a lack of trying. Bucky has hung around the compound gym she favors over his preferred spot whenever he has the chance, makes a little extra effort to mingle in the common areas where he’d normally make himself scarce, but it’s been a swing and a miss every time. She’s not avoiding him, he knows as much. They’d chatted here and there, kept up with each other despite her busyness, so he knew how absolutely swamped she was with taking each and every mission opportunity she saw. She was intent to stay far away from becoming rusty, or so she said, and there happened to be an influx in intel needed. So she was there and he was here, working through the warm, tricky feelings that had been tugging at his heart and his head in her absence. That is, when he wasn’t being concerned about what danger she was neutralizing this time, because despite himself and her skill he did worry. That much was clear.
How he’d ever finally make sense of things beside his worry - and make a move on them one way or another (or the other)- when he couldn’t get them both in the same room to save his life was beyond him.
So when Natasha calls him, breathless and disheveled from a railroad train a ways outside of Stará Lysá asking for a favor, he’s quick to forget about the boxing bag in front of him and all the rest of his afternoon plans.
“So I forgot about this charity Christmas party I got roped into and I’m not suffering through it alone. That and apparently this crowd is a bigger fan of settled and committed so-“
There’s the sound of shuffling and a muffled thump, the crunch of crushed gravel and wind, then silence behind her voice again. Bucky would be winding the phone cord around his finger if the darn things still had them, but instead he fiddles with the zipper of his gym bag guessing at what she’s doing and why her party was worth taking her time to call about.
“- in the name of big charity donations and keeping me sane, say you’ll be my fiancé for the evening. Tomorrow isn’t too late notice to scratch your big weekend plans with Steve, is it?” she teased, her voice a little more hushed than when she’d begun. Steve was going to have a good fucking laugh when he heard this one; he’d be lucky if he ever quit hearing about it. Bucky would worry about that later.
“I’m there. What time?”
Hand stilled, his reply slipped out without as much pause as he might have liked, his overt eagerness hopefully masked after the fact by a last minute addition to save face. It was work to smother down the grin that had appeared, his free hand pushing back through dark locks.
“I can move things around, I mean. Can’t say no to free champagne and some laughs at the top crust, right?”
Natasha’s laughter crackles over the faulty line, and his stomach does a flip as if she’s nearer than the miles and the secrecy that’s between them.
“I thought it might be an offer you couldn’t refuse.”
“The Godfather?”
“You’re getting pretty good. Seven-twenty, I’ll pick you up. Hope you don’t mind being fashionably late.”
“As long as we don’t miss the tiny hotdogs.”
“Noted.” The line went dead but not before the sound of shuffling, the loud clang of metal on metal, and a sharp inhale. He waited a second then another before finally tossing the call phone back into his bag and taking a deep breath, letting it go ever so slowly.
Guess I’ve got two things to worry about now.
___________________________________________________________________
A few hours earlier he’d received a text message that Natasha was running late and to meet her instead at the Lincoln Plaza Hotel at eight. The extra time was as much a gift as a curse; it gave him more time to think about their fictitious backstory and more time to sit with the spattering of butterflies in his stomach. In the end, he left for the party only a few minutes later than planned, content to sit around the corner and wait rather than pace his room and listen to Steve’s heckling over why he was so energized for his mission of sorts.
“So my fiancé is an early guy, huh? Making me look bad already, Barnes.” Natasha slipped into the car as quietly as she could, smooth despite the heels and up-do she was sporting. He hadn’t seen her coming, despite waiting intently for it; he was off his game. He tensed and relaxed nearly as quickly, the surprise of her silent arrival giving way to gratitude as his hands fell from the steering wheel and into his lap. She’d made it and made it home in one piece.
Bucky patted his jacket pockets in search of the tiny package he’d picked up from the thrift store the next city over, crumpling the receipt and tossing it into the center console before lifting the box to display at eye level. “I had an errand beforehand.” He held out the brown paper wrapped package; Natasha ripped it away to reveal a lucite ring box, a pair of too-shiny gold rings loose on a cushion of cotton inside. “But yeah, if this marriage is going to work you really have to step up,” he teased, pointing to the hastily opened box, amusement written over the redhead’s features as she looked from the box to its’ owner.
“Tell me you didn’t pay more than fifty on these!”
“They were only twenty thirty-five when I bought the box of forty-fives and the lamp in the trunk. What? I like being prepared. Don’t start-“ he insisted, in an attempt to head off too much ribbing.
Natasha popped the tiny box open, briefly looking over simple bands, the faux diamonds just barely glinting in the low light. Satisfied, she reached over to pull his right hand over, knowing he would favor it tonight.
“Far be it from me to laugh too hard at what I guess I’ll call good form. I might have made a good call making you complicit, huh?”
She pushed the simpler band onto his fourth finger, tossing his hand back with a playful carelessness. This time it was Bucky who laughed, willing away the tinge of pink he could sense creeping across his stubbled cheeks.
“Baby, you won’t be sorry.”
___________________________________________________________________
Rings handed out and final touches added, the pair slipped from the car and into the evening, the din of the party audible even from the steps inside. Natasha hastily donned a pair of jade studs she plucked from her clutch, a quick grab that mercifully matched the forest green evening gown she’d tossed on. Her extraction had gone sideways just the slightest at the last minute and while she’d been able to cover the handful of bruises she’d sustained, it had left her scrambling upon touching down. So she had to hand it to her evening partner-in-crime- he had certainly pulled through. That he had so thoroughly shown up for her was a touch endearing, but then, their career choices helped. They were nothing if not prepared.
She ran through the mental list of people and types of people she knew might be in attendance, lingering for a few seconds on the wide hotel stairs while Bucky attempted to smooth an uncooperative lock in his new short haircut. Admittedly, he cleaned up nice. But then her focus should be on the logistics of evening in front of her, right?
“Come on. I want to hear how we met and find the shrimp,” she insisted, hooking her arm into his when he extended it. The doorman allowed them in after a flash of an invitation, and they soon found themselves in the midst of a very well dressed crowd in a beautifully decorated hall.
Clearly not much expense had been spared despite the charity theme, and the light floral scent of the flower arrangements tastefully weaved into the decor was light enough to cover over the scent of the evening’s culinary delights. It was more than a little much in Natasha’s opinion, though the snort of suppressed laughter she caught beside her told her she wasn’t alone in that opinion.
“This is the party for a bunch of do-gooder, philanthropist types? For the less fortunate? Geez.”
“Try not to think about it. They’re showy and ridiculous and yeah, really self-aggrandizing, but at least it funds the Center for the year and Tony will get off my back, finally. We’re never coming back.” She assured him under her breath, and in the next she offered a demure smile to a pair of older gentlemen passing them by.
“Let’s find the bar and a waiter to make this thing bearable. I promised tiny hotdogs, and I don’t make promises I can’t keep.” She announced, punctuating with a fleeting kiss to his cheek then steering in the direction of the far corner of the room where she’d spotted a hideout.
___________________________________________________________________
“Distract me. I went, now it’s your turn. What do you think her deal is?” Natasha tilted her head just the slightest in the direction of a middle aged woman speaking quickly with one of the resting band members, her intricate up-do pinned by a matching pair of jeweled combs while one end of her shawl threatened to slip free and trail on the ground behind her.
They’d gotten bored twenty minutes in and had given up any semblance of seriousness when they could get away with it, waiting out the remaining time before they could make a clean exit by guessing about the backstory of the other more refined guests. Well, Natasha had guessed while Bucky had listened, commenting on various bits and pieces as he enjoyed her imagination. Or was it her life experience that made her the best story weaver he’d heard lately?
“I’ve seen her on the news last year. I know her story and it’s boring. She’d probably wish you’d write her a new one. The fish-in-the-pocket guy was pretty damn good.”
Not one to be easily deterred, especially after already taking her own turn a few times for the fun of it, she scanned the crowd again and locked onto a dapper older man with a glass of liquor and the other hand holding a feather pen and gesticulating wildly to his small audience near the bandstand. “Okay, then what about that guy? The one with the neon bow tie and the stitched pocket.”
Bucky hemmed and hawed, straightened his tie as he gave the guy another look over with an amused but critical eye. “He’s an early retiree who collects birds and writes bad poetry. He’s actually broke but he came with his rich brother in a plan to become the next big jewel thief. But not too big.”
“Let’s talk to him,” he piped up after a contemplative pause, “and if I’m a little bit right, you have to grab me more of those little cookies from the dessert table.”
“Why can’t you get them yourself?”
“I went back there three times. They’re going to escort me out if I take another handful- judging by the looks of this place, they’ve gotta be worth more than my paycheck.” His stipend was measly but who was counting?
“And if you’re wrong?”
“You choose what my proposal story is next.”
For all his initial nerves he was actually having a really good time. The other attendees were underwhelming but he was hardly there for them. He really had missed her, as a friend more than anything. Natasha’s voice broke through the appreciative train of thought, groaning softly.
“We’ve been spotted. Your six o’ clock.”
“Can we make it onto the patio?” They’d say so far on the outskirts of the throng of tables that the wide patio overlooking the small gardens around the hotel was just a few paces beyond their reach.
“Don’t be a coward. But no.”
Just as the Bucky had tossed his napkin on to the table and pushed his chair back to make conversation with their mark anyway, their early table mates returned and waved for them to stay. The aged man and woman took the seats across from them, the woman parting with her gloves and smoothing a napkin on her lap, then reaching for a candy on the table. The ceremony for the tiny treat was comical.
“Hello!” Her counterpart exclaimed with an unexpected enthusiasm. “Glad we caught you two lovebirds. Natasha, yes? And your friend?” He asked, gesturing between them.
“My fiancée. James. Isn’t this a lovely party?”
“It really is. The decor is darling, though they clash a bit with wait staff’s outfits,” the woman observed aloud. “Anyhow, I just have to ask, how did you two meet? I couldn’t help but notice you two whispering together. To be young and in love again.”
“You should tell the story,” Natasha insisted, grabbing Bucky’s hand and bring them both forward, as if wanting to subtly bring attention to their ring.
“What’s more interesting is how he proposed.”
Bucky hadn’t thought to concoct any grandiose proposal story, only their coupling up story, the one where they’d gotten in the wrong cab, wound up hopelessly lost outside Cincinnati, and had finally been saved by a private helicopter meant for Tony’s caterer but the experience of bonding over being virtually saved by forgotten pies had cemented their love forever.
He has had too much fun with it, but he had figured the private aircraft would make the story relatable to his audience and the wildness would earn a laugh as the assumed more-reserved crowd would find the adventure enticing as they lived vicariously through them.
It was stupid, but it had made Natasha laugh too hard, so he’d added touches to it here there.
Now to think on his feet- engagement here he came.
“See it happened like this-“
___________________________________________________________________
They went on like that, taking turns as they moved on from their table and flitted around the party, bouncing from conversation to conversation with barely the same personality twice, as best they could manage the private comedy of sorts. Until finally the fun of it and mercifully the interest in them wound down and the music took a slightly more mellow tone.
“Dance with me, darling?” It was as close as he’d come to honest feelings, anywhere close to transparency and he wasn’t sure whether he hoped she got the sense of his feelings in that moment or she didn’t. But regardless, it was only right that they participate in at least one dance, when she was so beautifully light on her feet and the live music was as good as he’d heard in at least half a century. It would be bad manners not to participate, and he’d promised he was all in with their charade.
“Well since you asked. And since Steve actually admitted that you’re just barely a better dancer than him the other day, and since I’ve seen him at a party, I have to know how much you’ve got on him.”
“I’m a little rusty,” he admitted as she took the hand he’d extended to her, heading for the spacious dance floor.
“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” she replied, rolling her eyes while adjusting a flowered hair pin with the hand not in his. “So I’m going to need at least two or three songs. That might be an order.”
The swell and jump of the music drew a liveliness from those on the dance floor, and as it would turn out, the pair was a fairly even match. Neither had been cursed with two left feet, even if she was a bit lighter on hers than he was. One one racing song led into another and then another, finally giving way to a reprieve and a sleepier melody, the floor clearing of those thankful for a chance to rest. A few wisps of coppery hair had escaped from their place in the flurry of activity, and Natasha tucked them behind her ear but didn’t bother further, because what did it matter anyway. She was finally having a good time.
Bucky pulled her a little closer, bridging the gap between their chests. He pulled her chastely towards him as their fingers threaded and his other hand rested lightly below her neck. The change in the band’s tempo and the crooning of the singer warranted a slow in their movements, his gaze watching her face as she watched the musicians transition.
“You look real pretty tonight, you know that?” The quiet vulnerability in his comment stole Natasha’s attention from the first sounds of the saxophone, a brow raised infinitesimally at her dancing partner who had taken to looking ahead instead of meeting her eyes. The muscle in his jaw tightened, and she thought he might be biting the inside of his cheek, a habit she hadn’t always been able to pin as concerned, nervous, but now she could. Whether because he had begun to loosen up over the months that she had come to know him or merely because she had done just that -come to know him better- she couldn’t tell. But instead of another tease or joke, she relaxed a little more into his embrace and gave the slightest nod and a smile.
“You don’t look too bad yourself. You clean up. Thanks for coming with me tonight. Really. It’s been a long...week. Month.”
He wasn’t sure if what was between them was only in his head, while Natasha, resting her head on his chest in what could be perceived by others as entirely ordinary for a lovingly engaged couple, knew she wasn’t imagining the stampede of his heartbeat or the cliche spark that had been the undercurrent of their time together for weeks now.
It left her cheerfully emboldened when at long last the party wound down, the enormous donation amount was announced, and the attendees trickled out towards the cars and drivers.
“So when’s our second date? I’m not a wait-up-by-the-phone kind of girl, so I’m asking now.” She stated matter of factly, their fingers still intertwined. It had been an unspoken addition to their act, the perfect bookend to their engagement performance to leave hand in hand.
They were halfway down the block, waiting for the car Tony had promised to send since they’d pointed out they’d needed a few drinks to survive the event. Bucky nearly stopped in his tracks, he was so taken by surprise, and he panicked over whether or not she might be joking with him or not.
“You asking me out, Romanoff? My dance moves were that good, huh?” He questioned, nudging her a little as he checked the traffic before crossing towards their car, the cool air suddenly a bit cooler or so it felt. “Guess I’m not so rusty after all. And you weren’t that bad yourself,” he teased, returning a bit of the ribbing he’d received that evening, his hand giving hers a gentle squeeze.
“I’m asking you out for the second time. You better be the one asking next, makes a girl feel needy if she has to step up every time.”
“Fine. And to make it even, next time, I’m buyin’.”
“Considering the fancy hardware,” Natasha raised their hands, the rings glinting in the soft glow of the streetlight, “and the good time, I think we can call it even tonight. But James?”
“Yeah?”
His given name always sounded better from her lips; she was the only one who insisted on calling him by it, aside from the higher authorities. From anyone else it would have sounded not quite right, too formal and too familiar all the same. But when she said it, it felt right. From where the spot where they stood, just a few paces from the car, he could see the driver getting out to open the door for them, and he thought again how over the top this night had been.
“One more thing. To make it even. While we’re still engaged and all.”
Their engagement was fake and their rings would stain their fingers green before the night was over. The evening had been long and late, and had its questionable moments. But he’d do it again and again for the kiss that was suddenly his, Natasha’s warm hand against his cheek and their lips pressed with a tenderness he hadn’t felt in decades.
Yeah, I’d do it all again for this.