brovengers | Arc 3, Chapter 1, Steve's Party: Natasha and James

Natasha and James talk and get handsy, then go to say hi to Thor.

Natasha lounges in a deck chair, stretched out as far as she can. For the first time in a long, long while, she feels no need to be professional. Her nails are newly painted, glossy dark red; her makeup and hair are both done, she’s wearing one of her favorite little black dresses (one she hasn’t worn in ages—it looks too much like her to be of much use). The hardass, ball-busting Secret Agent can go back in her box for a little while, let Natasha Romanoff come out to play.

Her hand is curled around a sweating bottle of vodka, and she’s watching the sun sink below the horizon, through an expensive pair of sunglasses. She’s watching for the car James told her he’d rented.

Occasionally her eyes flick over to Thor, who, thank God, seems to have calmed down some. She plans to talk with him later. Maybe after she’s had a little more to drink.

She makes a mental note to bring something back for Coulson as she takes a long swig of vodka. It burns on the way down.

James has to drive around a bit before he finds the place, even being that it’s in a small town in the middle of nowhere, but he finally makes it, and is glad to have the chance to be out of a car, off a plane, and out of his house, socializing. No reason to act like an agent for a while. With the way his week’s gone (and surely several other people’s) it’s a welcome change of pace.

He gives a wave to the people already there as he gets out of the car and locks it, then heads over to where Steve’s tending the grill.

“Hey, Cap,” he says, offering about the warmest hug and smile he’s bound to ever give anybody, and a clap on the shoulder. ”What’s the birthday boy doing working? Good to see you.” He gives a nod of hello to the other man sitting nearby—no doubt that’s Thor, who he’s heard about but not yet met. ”I think I’ve got a lady waiting for me, so I’ll chat with you when you’re done playing chef.”

Natasha’s lounging and looking lovely (as always). James heads over and leans down to give her a kiss, unsurprised to find she already tastes like vodka. ”Hey, sexy. Off-duty finally?”

Natasha slips him a little tongue through the kiss, smirking when they pull apart. ”Finally,” she says. ”It’s good to be out of the catsuit for once. Glad to see you, moy volke.”

She gestures in the direction of the party, and the big blond man laughing nearby. ”That’s Thor,” she says. ”He’s the one who put Coulson in the hospital.”

James takes a seat next to her and follows her gesture, nodding. ”Thought so. Steve knows him.” James shakes his head. ”Given what I’ve heard about him, I’d never have thought he’d do something like that. He seems like a decent guy.” He shrugs. ”Goes to show, we’ve all got it in us.”

Without warning, he reaches across Natasha to swipe her bottle of vodka, and he takes a long pull from it. ”But that’s not why I’m here,” he says with a grin, handing it back.

“Nyet, nyet!” Natasha cries out, laughing, “get your own damn vodka, greedy boy!”

His comment—we’ve all got it in us—doesn’t pass her by, and she doesn’t like the dark way it wrenches at her heart, but for the time being she chooses to ignore it. She’s not here for black thoughts, tinged with red. She’s here to have fun, and she goddamn well intends to have fun.

Especially since this is the first she’s seen of James in weeks.

She watches Namor flutter to the ground—how nice of him, to grace them with his regal presence, she thinks with a crooked smile—looking ridiculous in a very classy suit and no shoes. She cocks an eye to James.

“You’re not going to get into a fight with him again, are you?” she asks.

“Again?” he asks, acting more taken aback than he is. ”No, why would I do something like that?” He cocks her a grin, lopsided and dimpled, a troublemaker’s smile, one of the few things about him that still marks him as Bucky Barnes. ”Ah, I’ll be good. Promise.”

He stretches out and idly runs his fingers up Nat’s bare arm, then back down to stroke the inside of her wrist.

“Missed you,” he says softly.

That damn smile of his always does things to her. It’s a rare thing, these days, although thankfully not as rare as it used to be. She’s glad to see it, glad to see him enjoying himself for once. He pushes himself too much—it hurts, watching him try desperately to atone for things he barely even remembers. Things that weren’t even his fault.

Not that she can blame him, really. What else could she call her own job but a stab at redemption?

His fingertips on her arm distract her very nicely from the ugly turn her thoughts are taking, sending pleasant shivers up and down her body. She returns his smile.

“I missed you too,” she says.

James’s hand snakes back up her arm and cups the back of her neck, the metal of his palm cool against the heat of her skin under thick red hair, and he kisses her on the lips, not without tenderness, but not without the desperation of having not seen her in too long, either. It’s all she’s getting for now, though. Maybe later, in private.

He’s about to say something else when the rumble of vehicles shakes up dust around them, and Tony Stark arrives, with what is apparently the entire party in tow. ”So much for peace and quiet,” James mutters, but he’s still half-smiling.

Abruptly, he pushes himself up out of the seat and takes Nat by the hand. ”Come on. I’ve got you on my arm now,” he says, pulling her to his feet and coiling his arm around her waist. ”I think I can stand to properly socialize.” Without giving her a chance to protest, he makes his way back towards the rest of the group.

Natasha stumbles a little when he pulls her up.

That’s odd; she’s no lightweight by any means. The vodka shouldn’t be affecting her this much. Maybe it’s the heels. They are new.

For a laugh, she gives James a light smack on the ass. ”I can’t leave you alone for two hours, can I,” she says. ”Poor baby.”

She looks around to find Thor, who is seated next to a girl she doesn’t know—must be Jane?—and looking happier than she’s ever seen him. This is as good a time as any.

“Come on,” she says, tugging James in that direction. ”I need to go talk to the god of thunder over there.”