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To call it a big party would be an understatement. Because Tony Stark didn’t do anything subtlety, least of all celebrating the anniversary of finding his soulmate. If Natasha was being completely honest, she mostly showed up because of the company and the free booze. But it was good to see Pepper glow with delight and Tony gush over her.
Somehow though, Natasha still ended up in the bar for some alone time with a glass of vodka. Several glasses of vodka. After a little while the newest member of their fucked up little family of superheroes came to join her.
She raised her glass at Bucky and he raised his in turn. The golden liquid had a sweet smell and she guessed it was more of Thor’s special brew, suitable only for Asgardians and super soldiers.
After the initial greeting, they both stared quietly as a very happy and very drunk couple stumbled past.
“Christ, I’m getting old,” Bucky mumbled and took a big swig of his drink.
Natasha let out a heartfelt sigh. “I’m so glad I’m not the only one thinking that.”
“Love is grand and all, but…” He waved his glass at the crowd.
“You know what Tony asked me?” she asked, and continued before he had a chance to reply. “He asked me if I ever worried that my soulmate was, and I quote, ‘old as balls’ or dead, because of the whole born almost a century ago.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah.”
“Wasn’t a problem for Steve though, and he’s older than you.”
She smiled at him. “He’s probably right, though. My soulmark is an old Red Room code. And my time with them is long gone along with a lot of memories.” She wanted to blame the alcohol in her blood, but even dead-drunk she never spilled secrets this easily. There was something about him. She’d only known Bucky for a few months, but he somehow always managed to make her feel comfortable. Sparring with him felt more like dancing and it was good to have someone to talk with in Russian again.
He looked at her with understanding instead of pity and her heart skipped a beat. “Show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” he said with grin that made him look like the guy Steve had told her all those stories about.
There was no point in stopping now and she pulled at her neckline, revealing the line of text under her collarbone.
Bucky leaned forward to read the tiny writing. “Mountain air is good for you,” he said, translating the cyrillic letters. “I haven’t got a clue what that’s supposed to mean.” His breath smelled sweetly of the alcohol.
“Depending on the context it’s asking for status or updates on a mission. Probably not relevant any more, since I'm no longer with the Red Room.”
He leaned back to roll up the sleeve of his dress shirt. Running down his forearm in bold cyrillic letters, his mark read: эта курам на смех. No. It had to be a coincidence.
“Imagine how confusing it was for a born and bred Brooklyn kid to get a mark in Russian,” he said, misreading the look on her face. “I’m just glad the old Russian lady who translated it could tell me the meaning of it and not just the literal translation.”
Sure, the expression ‘that’s laughing for chickens’ was used to describe something ridiculous or unsatisfactory, but it was also Red Room code a mission about to become a failure.
“Well, fuck,” she said.