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It had been a rough mission, and her appearance reflected that from the strangled look Vision had given her as she was passing Wanda's room. Natasha was covered in dirt and grime, limping from an injury she didn’t remember sustaining, rubbing crusted blood that didn't belong to her off the sleeve of her suit as she made her way to her room. Steve was debriefing first, which gave her time to get cleaned up before it was her turn. She always looked worse than him when they got back anyway, and figured her debrief would be more pleasant for everyone if she didn't smell like something had died for once.
She turned the hall and let out a weak puff of air as she attempted to assume her normal gait when she saw James was leaning on the wall beside her door. He worried too much about her.
“It was one of those, huh ‘Tasha?” His voice was soft, but she saw the worry she had been trying to prevent flash behind those big brown puppy dog eyes.
“I’ll be okay.” She offered as she closed in on him, and he rested his hand against her cheek, softly rubbing at a patch of dirt with the pad of his thumb.
His mouth flattened to a narrow line, brow furrowing, and she brushed his hair back from his face to read him better.
“When was the last time you ate, Doll?” His eyes were sad as he watched her think, taking a beat too long to recall her last meal. What had it been again?
“I had a protein bar on the jet on the way back over. And a bottle of water. I'm not hungry.”
“Mmm.” He sighed and pushed the door open to her room, and she was about to protest when he spoke again. “Let's get you cleaned up, and somethin’ to eat.”
“Okay, but food may have to wait. They’re gonna need me downstairs when Steve is finished, I like to be down there before he’s done.”
“You ever heard of self care?” He disappeared into the bathroom and started the water, and she sighed as she leaned against the wall as she pulled off her boots, wincing as she shifted her weight off her sore leg.
“You know I can't shut it off until I’ve debriefed. My brain doesn't work that way.” She looked up in time to see him pulling his shirt over his head in the bathroom doorway, eyes falling on the gentle swell of the muscles along his sides as he lifted it over his head.
“We’re gonna have to work on that.” He gave her a crooked smile as she let herself fall back against the door to her room, deciding if she wanted to fight back or not. He made his way across the room and pushed her hair back behind her ear and it hardly stayed, styled with dust and crusted blood. “How’s a shower sound to start?”
She felt herself giving in as his lips ghosted over hers, and her eyes fell shut as she let him capture her in a kiss, sweeping her off her feet.
They make their way to the bathroom and she catches a glimpse of herself as he tugs the zipper down her suit, a definitive line of grime appearing as it falls away, the edge blurred slightly from sweat. Pale skin on her sides gave way to yellow and green bruises doing their best to fade, and as he peeled it down her leg he gave the side of her thigh a soft kiss right where it was throbbing. It must be bruised.
“It doesn't hurt bad enough to be serious.” Her eyes left her reflection, and he stood again, resting his thumb on her chin softly.
“‘S just bruised pretty bad. We’ll ice it.” He pulled the shower curtain for her and helped her in, and the water instantly tinged copper in the base of the tub. Natasha turned her face to the stream and let the water wash her clean of her mission, muscles finally relaxing. There was no reason to fight now. Bucky stepped in behind her, and she looked over her shoulder at him as he took her in.
“I know I look like shit. You don’t have to stare.” She huffed halfheartedly, and he shook his head, eyes full of wonder.
“Now that’s just not true and you know it.” He smiled, and stepped into the stream beside her as she lathered her shampoo.
“That I look like shit, or that you don’t have to stare?” She fired back, and he threaded his fingers through her hair as she rinsed, taking over.
“Both.” His voice softened, and she leaned back against him, utilizing her new distribution of weight to alleviate pressure from her bruised thigh. “After everything, I never thought I’d get to again.” He murmured, and she felt the weight of it in her heart.
“Easy Soldat.” She whispered, turning to rest her head on his chest, his metal arm wrapping around her over his flesh one.
“I’ve lost track of how many broken promises lie between us...” He started, and she looked up at him, his eyes unfocused and staring ahead.
“It’s alright.” She rested a hand on his cheek, and he looked down at her, offering a weak smile. “This is what matters.” Her voice was firm, she wasn’t just saying it for him.
They finished their shower in silence, a tribute to all their lost years, and after she toweled off she donned his shirt from the floor of the doorway and grabbed a hairbrush and a handful of hair ties.
“I can get you a clean one ‘Tasha-” He smiled as she padded away, making sure she swayed her hips just enough to be noticeable while shaking her head in disinterest of a different shirt. “Tease.”
“Didn’t you say something about food?” She called out from where she had settled on her bed, brushing her wet hair out.
“Didn’t you say you don’t have time to eat?” He ruffled his hair with a towel in a weak attempt to dry it before leaning out of the bathroom to give Natasha a playful dirty look.
“Didn't you say we needed to work on changing that?” She raised her eyebrows in defiance, the same playful fight in her eyes.
“I did. Pizza?” He wrapped his towel around his waist and flipped off the light in the bathroom as she turned on the tv.
“Only if it’s Sparky’s!” She let her head roll back to rest on the mountain of pillows behind her, sneaking a lazy glance at him out of the corner of her eye.
"Sounds good to me, Doll." He adjusted his grip on the towel and turned to her dresser. "Now aren't you glad I talked you into letting me keep some clothes in here?"
"Mm. Yes." She sighed happily as he dropped the towel, and he chuckled.
Beads of water rolled down his back and shoulders as she brushed his hair out, slipping down his skin and disappearing into the plush fabric of his dark sweatpants. He didn’t flinch as the brush caught in a tangle, and she leaned forward to work it apart, tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth as she separated the strands of hair.
“Do you think you could braid it a little looser this time?”
“What do you mean?” She got back to brushing, twisting her wrist to get the hair ties bunching on her arm to seperate.
“I mean last time when I undid it my hair stood straight out it was so wavy. Maybe if you braid it looser it won't be so poofy later?”
“Braids are meant to be tight James.” She smirked as she started sectioning his hair and gathering the pieces for the first braid. “Otherwise they come undone. But, for you, I suppose I could ease up.”
“How gracious.”
Soon after, their pizza arrived, Natasha reluctantly releasing him to go get it with his hair half finished, an incomplete braid slipping apart as he returned proudly with a pizza box in hand.
“They're looking for you downstairs." He grumbled as he slid in bed beside her, and she glanced at the door.
"I technically have 72 hours to report…" Natashas head fell against his chest as she picked a green pepper from her slice of pizza and nibbled on it, body relaxing the rest of the way. Mission mode was off before her debrief, and somehow it didn’t feel as wrong as she expected it to. She supposed it just took the right person to bring her back down.