carrytheshield | penance ic inbox;

[Someone mentioned a cat, and Jason's made it his goal to get in and find it. He missed his cat and the idea of just seeing one would be fantastic. He's been wandering around, hearing if anyone else talked about it.
Soon he's found where it is but now there's the main obstacle to the door. He knocks to no response, but he knows the cats in here, and he's determined at this point, it was a simple lock, took little to no time as he goes into the room, soon he's making contact with a fluffy white cat sleeping on the bed. He almost jumps with excitement as he goes over, leaving the door askew and pets the kitty.]

Hey there little man. [He coos, soon crawling into bed to cuddle him, he doesn't seem to be scared of him, and right now Jason could cry from this cat.]

[Alpine is a shorthair, white with blue eyes and a pink nose. And he is both fluffy and very, very soft. The fact that Jason is not His Human seems to be something he's willing to overlook for the moment, he meows in curiosity, but as soon as the blonde joins him on the bed and cuddles up with him, he seems to be content to just bask in the affection. Although he sort of shoves his head into the blonde's chest in an un-subtle demand for more.

Jason actually gets a fair dose of alone-time with the cat, at least ten or fifteen minutes or so. At which point, well. Bucky's on his way back from the gym, clean tee-shirt that clings tight to his chest, hair just-dried. He's not expecting the bedroom door to be ajar, and honestly, it's the total lack of any attempt to conceal it that makes it so he doesn't go for the gun in his bag.

He still toes the door open before sliding into the doorway. And he doesn't know what he was expecting, but it's not the sight he finds. Not since Duplicity has coming back to find a hot blonde in his bed been something that made any sort of sense. But well, Alpine seems to like the kid, anyway.]

You know, I was pretty sure that coming back to a hot guy mysteriously in my bed only happened in pornos. [His tone is amused, with that slight hint of a Southern accent on the words. It's a bit more teasing than an outright proposition, but well. There's a flicker of something like interest. Something not-quite familiar as he tosses his bag in the corner.]

At least Alpine has good taste with who he brings home.

[Alpine demands more and Jason is more than willing to provide. He cuddles the cat and almost falls asleep when Bucky comes in. He jumps a bit at the sound and rolls over, and it was a pleasant surprise. He looks at him and smiles. ]

Maybe it is a porno. [ He laughs looking up at him, he stretches out like a cat. Putting his arm around Alpine like Bucky interrupted a hookup.]

And honestly, you're a lot hotter than I imagined, so I guess I lucked out to.

[ Natalia has nearly completed reconnaissance on the apparent hotel, ever vigilant and ready to swap masks as is appropriate, when that glint of metal brings about a pause. It can be an illusion, it can be someone else entirely, metal appendages being not nearly as unique as those with specific markings. And while that telltale star may be absent, the arm is still attached to James. A James, at least, all things considered.

[ Bare lips part as a barrage of words gurgle upwards, from code words to questions to remarks on his looks, yet the assassin settles on clarification first - ] Is this Mephisto or Scarlet Witch?

[ Tone makes it more a statement than inquiry, this old hat situation. And like a moon to its planet, her body urges a forward path, to fit limbs into and against James, but Talia executes restraint, coolly standing in her tac suit near the corner she's recently rounded. If it's the Russians doing this...Hell hath no fury like the Black Widow.

[ Or so she's always been told. ]

[His heart lurches and his stomach twists, and he wants to chalk it up to some sort of deception, an illusion, his mind playing tricks on him. But the truth was that his mind could never recreate her this faithfully; the curve of her lips, the inflection of her voice, the way red hair fell against the black of her tac-suit.

Natasha is the original, is too much herself. Even his dreams are but ghosts of her.

And yet the first coherent thought to go through his brain is that he really should have shaved the beard-- he drags a hand awkwardly through his hair, unruly from exertion. He would have liked to have managed a change of clothes, or at least been in his tac suit. Instead, he'd been on his way back from the gym. Sweatpants and a tank top, like in the old days when she'd watch him spar with Clint, from her perch halfway up a wall.

Like an echo, something almost familiar that whispers between them, draws him in a step. He's never had her restraint, after all. But after how they'd parted last, he's not quite sure how close she wants him. So he orbits around her, like he always does.]

Jury's still out. I'd say split the difference, but keep your options open.

[His voice is steady, a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth. Because it is old hat. How many strange worlds, dimensions, magic and illusion? He wants to curl fingers against her hips, draw her close and breathe in the scent of her skin. But he doesn't. He has enough restraint to leave the ball in her court at least, like always.]

[ If it is at the hands of mutant or demon, Natalia wonders what accounts for the differences in time, because James doesn’t look the way he did when last they spoke, touched, shared breath. ’We’ll always have the moon’ A hand flutters up like a bird, hovering at collarbones to finger the object hidden beneath the kevlar; a rose. In the very least, he’s given the confirmation desired that it is truly him standing before her and Nat rides that relief straight into him, molding against the soldier sweat and beard and all. ]

< Tell me you’re alright or point me in the right direction to make it so. >

[ Russian and breaths caress James’s skin as arms fiercely keep her body flush with his. If they’ve touched him again Nat will obliterate the motherfuckers. No matter how far she’s come, how much the dark and the red are kept at bay, nothing is off limits where Barnes is involved. The other pressing matters can afford to be placed on pause until the state of James is settled. ]

[It honestly catches Bucky a little bit off-guard when she closes the distance between them, but his body knows hers. It's almost reflexive, the way his arms wrap around her waist- the way that he holds her close to him; like he can protect her. He's never been good at that, but it doesn't stop him from trying.

And her words, that whisper of Russian that flutters against his skin like a tease, a whisper of an old memory. He can't help the way that his mouth curves. He knows he shouldn't touch, but he can't help the indulgence, the way that even as he pulls back half a step, looking at her as if he only half believes that she's real, his hands trail up her sides with unmistakable fondness.]

< I'm alright, all things considered. It's Hell, so it's hardly all sunflowers, but it could be worse. >

[They've both been places that were worse than this. Even with Stepford. The jury is still out on how he feels about Lucifer, but it was nothing like Sunday School had threatened. In truth, it was maybe back home where things were worse, where he wasn't quite alright. The government issued him a conditional pardon in the aftermath of Hydra, blackmails him into being their covert assassin, and it doesn't bother him as much as it should.

But he doesn't want to bother her, put that weight on her shoulders when even touching her like this feels traitorous, something he hasn't earned. He still wants her to kiss him, but Bucky knows that he's greedy. He finally lets his hands fall away from her, and they stutter a little, like he doesn't quite want to let go.]

< Do you wanna... Eventually they move you to a bigger suite. So if you want to talk, I've got my own room, at least. >

[Hotels and Natasha always reminds him of the old days, of sneaking into rooms that weren't theirs, believing that they were good enough to hide their disobedience from the Red Room's eyes.]

[ It's noted, the faltering, and coupled with the meaningful manner in which he first gazed upon her, ever more questions burn worse than the absence of James in her space. She acknowledges that they need to move, though, that's obvious, so Natalia doesn't fault him nor fret over the partial distance. There's time for more later. ~~The mission~~ Information first. Assessment and a plain, and Natalia can't be more relieved to know he'll be the one providing it, that James will be with her...even if simultaneously feels like paper cuts on the webbing between one's fingers knowing that if this the true Hell. he's landed a place. Not that either of them haven't damned well earned one a thousand times over. Hurts just the same. Let her be here. Let the others not.

The segue is a perfect opener for the redhead to remark - ] < Talk, yes, and explain why you've chosen to start cosplaying someone who feeds birds in Saint Mark's Square. >

[ The tenderness is palpable as she's delivering the teasing, cobalt orbs falling over James's face (flicking once to that flower). With just as tender of a tug on the beard, Nat swaps over to English, saying - ] Mmm, maybe more like someone in Central Park. Someone who's trained rats to perform alongside the Man With the Silver Arm.

Oh, come on. It's not that bad, is it? I knew I should have shaved. I'm pretty sure I should be insulted that you think I'm more New York City hipster than a slightly-overgrown Italian artisan.

[Bucky grumbles, but it's clearly good-natured. He's smiling at her, turning and leading her down the hallway, trusting her to follow. But also listening for her footsteps, that feel of her presence; it's been a while since they followed in each others' footsteps. Since they fit into the same shadows, and he can't help the way that he likes the feeling of it.]

I've, uh. I've got a razor, but I could use some help, if you're willing.

[Not like it would be the first time. There's a very, very short list of people Bucky trusts with a razor to his throat, but Natasha is on it. This Natasha, at least. Not that he was ever the sort of man to get carried away with macho bullshit to consider her his-- 'she doesn't belong to anyone' as he was always only too glad to point out. But the one he knew, the one that knew him, where they walked parallel paths.

Maybe it's why as much as he dislikes seeing her here-- well, if anyone was going to follow him to this place, it would be her, wouldn't it? And it's because they're people that have made peace with their sins. It's not Steve or Tony or their other friends that have made hard choices, maybe even the wrong choices on occasion, but were good people at their core.

He thinks she's done more good than she lets herself believe. But he knows how she's earned it, just like he has.]

You knew? You felt that tug on your soul as well, alerting you of my presence?

[ Naked lips curl into a small cheeky grin as she sidles up to him with a wink. The flirting, the continued teasing, they're behaviors easily slipped into like her masks and plethoras of personas. Only, with James, Natalia's actions and feelings and remarks are genuine. You will never know someone 100% (without telepathy), but he'll be the only one who will get as close as possible. Clint surely comes in at second, however, he can't properly comprehend what the Red Room was like, what it did. What it still does.

[ With an air of serious contemplation, complete with pointer finger tapping against mouth, Tash quips - ] Depends upon what I get out of it.

[ Which is to say obviously she'll do it. Of course. It'll be a task to concentrate on while James gives her intel on their new living situation. ]

[He laughs at her question, mirth tugged from him unexpected and helpless as he shakes his head at her cheek. He's missed this; the flirting, the teasing, the sense of something playful that he hadn't had back home for a while. Not since before Steve.]

Well-- more like I thought I heard a little voice calling me an idiot, and knew you couldn't be too far behind.

[He grins, and there's a light to it. Something in how he looks at her, the way that he holds himself. Being around her might be difficult on the one hand, but on the other, it's also always been so easy. That way that he teases, a reminder of the days back when he'd been Captain America, when there'd been a label to the things between them, instead of this murky almost and maybe like it was now.]

What, you askin' for a bribe, Natasha?

[There's something about the sound of her name on his mouth, something that feels like trespassing, and he flushes a little, just at the apples of his cheeks, a shake of his head. He retreats to put a little more space between them, but he's still focused on her as they walk down the hallway.]

I'll tell you what I know. Which isn't much but- lay of the land, right? Ask nice and maybe I'll cook you somethin'.

[As if he wouldn't anyway.]

[ With a hum and an eyeroll, Nat bumps her hip into his, but any irritation is simply for show. There hadn't been time to miss him before and even now a lot is happening in this whirlwind arrival, yet their interactions are swiftly shoving things to the surface and they're not unwelcome. James is home.

[ Little slips past unnoticed where assassins and spies are concerned, less where James is in regards to Natalia. However, it would be unlikely that even the average person would have missed him literally taking the lead ahead of her; she waits to comment, though, instead addressing their pseudo-bargain. ]

Where's the fun in that when you already have to tell me what you know? That's just a given.

[ Which is a decent segue into the elephant boneyard.

Tasha ghosts fingers along the back of his hand and looks on James kindly. ]

< Except for the Thing. > [ The Thing that's cause for eggshell dances. ] < Tell me on your own time or not at all. Da? >

[There's a huff of vague amusement as she puts down his offer, though admittedly he'd known it was too easy. Because she's right; they both knew that he would tell her regardless. He's musing on what to offer instead, when she closes the distance, her fingers a whisper against his hand and--

That whisper of Russian shivers down his spine as she's softer than he deserves, more understanding. Gives him space and time, permission to tell her as he can, as he wants to. And there are so many pieces to the story, but he sighs, shrugs his shoulders a little.

There are the pieces that have always been there, too. The ones where he's no good for her, but too selfish to step away. He voices a quiet agreement, but figures he'll give her at least some of it as they talk.]

How about a date? [He says it before he can think better of it; talk about selfish.] Place is a bit lacking when it comes to upscale restaurants, but I can cook somethin' -- no pancakes, I promise. And there is a dance club sister to the sex club, sort of the PG-13 stage. Makes for a decent night out without the demonic affections.

[ Natalia isn't one to gush or giggle easily. Blushing naturally is mostly triggered by her Web People. But James utters those words and it sets off physical reactions that are warm and pleasant and intimate. The corners of her mouth creep upwards into a smile that is nothing short of pure adoration. ] You could take me to the roof and it would still be perfect. [ Hand is extended to shake on it. ] A date it is, Barnes.

[ The necklace James gifted her feels like it's taken on more weight, which is impossible, and yet it lays heavier against her skin like it is reacting to their energy, their connection. ]

Think you can still keep up with me in the club? [ Nat feeds that charge with a challenging look, cobalt blues dancing with impishness. ]

[He hesitates a moment, because it feels like a misstep, like he's offered something too heavy. Something in the way that she says he could take her to the roof and it would be perfect. It feels like she's from years behind him, like she doesn't know the things that he does wrong. So offering a date feels unfair- but then maybe he's just a coward these days. Or maybe it's just the look that curves her lips, the warmth and like there's something in him to adore.

He doesn't know if the fact that he does take her hand in the end makes it worse or not. But when has he ever been able to refuse her? Even if for him everything feels like broken pieces that don't quite fit together anymore.]

I don't think anyone's ever been able to keep up with you.

[Shies from the challenge there, not quite a flinch, but while he's always carried as much weight on his shoulders as he could find, it's still somehow worse these days. But maybe getting rid of the grief beard will help, at least. He leads her through the suite to his room, which is clean to military standards, nothing personal aside from the incongruous sniper rifle in the corner.]

[ At the sight of the weapon, memories of missions and rescues and well-meaning watchfulness play out in the Russian's mind, most gladly but a few with a bitter aftertaste. And makes her ask - ] The duffel bag; what was in yours, if I may ask?

[ Natalia looks from the gun to the owner, hovering in the center of James's room and committing the layout to memory. Ritual drives the categorizing of every possible thing that can be used as a means to cause harm (not against James, but in defense of him, should anyone be fool enough to carry out an attack), but she's also learning his space. The space he took up without her while being trapped here.

[ She hates knowing that. ]

My old leather jacket, a necklace- [His voice catches there and he shrugs it off, exhaling a little bit shakily. He's wearing it now, under his shirt. He could show her, but then there would be things he doesn't know how to talk about. So instead he just shrugs it off.]

A few weapons; including the sniper rifle.

[A rose from her. But he leaves that out, even if it's the part that he should tell her most of all. But it doesn't feel like he deserves that. She cares for him, maybe even still loves him. And things are complicated for him. There's loss and hurt and he can't even bring himself to tell her about Dodger, even if he half feels like he needs to-- god knows that two eyes isn't enough to keep an eye on him.

And Dodger needs people looking out for him. Needs people that understand what it is to have been something dark and been able to walk away from it. Bucky's not as good of an example of that as he wishes he was, but Natasha would be good for him he thinks, if Bucky wasn't so selfish.]

[It isn't actually that late at night. About 10 PM. But it's past Letha's normal bedtime, and she can't seem to find any rest. After a while she gets up and considers speaking to Natalia... but she doesn't want to be a bother. In any case, her curiosity about their male roommate is stronger than her pull toward familiarity.

She knocks on the door to Bucky's room, and calls softly through the door:]

I hope I'm not waking you, Mr. Barnes... I was wondering if you might like some tea, I just put the water on to boil.

[It takes him a moment, but he tugs on a shirt and opens the door with a slight smile, shaking his head.]

Not at all. Tea would be nice, actually.

[He'd been reading, so he's in pajama pants and a snug tee-shirt, but he sets the book down on the dresser. He knows they haven't exactly seen much of each other, and not only does it seem the polite thing to do, but he knows that Natasha has taken a shine to the girl. And Bucky does have a certain interest in finding out more about his new roommate.

He knows how disconcerting it is to be a creature out of time. He also can pick up the signs of sleeplessness, aside from just noting that she's up later than usual.]

Can't sleep?

[She's been learning a bit about modern fashion, and doing her best to follow Natalia's guidance - she's wearing a nightgown with a slightly translucent skirt, but she has the good sense to wear some modest but lacy bloomers under it.

She sets about pouring tea for them, and glances up at him with a shy smile.]

I hope black rose is okay, it's my favorite. Do you want honey?

[As to the second question... her face falls a bit, but she tries to keep the smile pointedly.]

I suppose I'm not used to sleeping alone anymore. I was married before I came here... some nights it's difficult not to think of my husband.

{ In which, Natalia shaves James's face and cleans up the ends of his hair. Because it's more important to learn the now, the present, she keeps the conversation on learning all things Hell. She keeps the knowledge of wearing his rose necklace to herself. For now.

penance ic inbox;

Action: it's kitty time!

no subject

no subject

action ; you are insane, my desire, a dangerous game, love.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

action;

no subject

no subject

Summary wrap up;