He's being watched.
Almost like a sixth sense, he can feel it. When he turns around, he sees a glimpse of her. If he didn't know better he'd think he'd imagined it.
But he knows.
He'd recognize her anywhere. The ends of her hair are a glaring blonde now, but she's still the same. The same lithe body, only five-foot-three, but with the strength of someone twice her size.
Natasha Romanoff is a natural beauty, and her appeal makes her all the more dangerous. All the more deadly.
Good thing he's immune to such threats, because for the past three - well technically eight - years, the only person that's been on his mind in that way is Shuri. But of course, he won't admit that. He can't, not now.
"Bucky," she announced in his doorway, "I have something to te-, well, show you."
She was practically aglow with happiness, a stark contrast to everyone else in the world directly after the blip. Everyone was constantly walking on eggshells. Scared that if they blinked whatever good they had would all turn to dust.
He continues down the corridor as soft as he can, but then steps rise out from behind him.
As he turns around, a voice calls, "So. Care to explain why you're here?"
The less complicated answer is that Sam needed his help, which wouldn't be a lie at all. He did.
Apparently that was the case with some man. She brought her hands out from behind her back and as she lifted one, her smile got wider, if that was even possible at that point.
On her finger was a simple ring. An engagement ring, no doubt made of diamond and some vibranium alloy.
His smile dropped along with his heart.
"You're...getting married..." he choked out, simply stating the fact that she already knew.
"Yes-" she answered plainly, ignoring his sudden rigidity. Or maybe she didn't notice it at all. She never really seemed notice him anymore.
"-Well won't you invite me in? I'm sure you want all the details."
He most definitely did not. But he buried down his feelings as he'd done many times before and let her in anyway.
The more complicated answer is that he'd fallen hopelessly in love with the princess of Wakanda, but he'd buried it, and waited. For what? He'll never know. But now she's happily engaged and there's absolutely nothing he can do about it.
Suddenly enraged, he counters, "Care to explain why you've been watching me?" ignoring her question.
With a "Hmph" she turns on her heel and walks away.
There was a time she did notice him.
He laughs darkly at the thought, downing another shot, but immediately groaning, knowing that just like the last fourteen, this had done absolutely nothing.
She curled up closer to him as on the screen, a monster leaped out of the shadows. He'd seen scarier in his nightmares - probably in his dreams, but he didn't complain. How could he when Shuri was latched to his arm? Her face was tucked between his back and the plush sofa.
Those were his favorite nights. He had told her this once, explaining that he enjoyed the movies. He didn't. What he enjoyed was her.
Everything about her. Her kind eyes. The eyes that looked at him like he was everything in the world, and not some broken old man. Her only slightly insensitive jokes that he had grown to love. Every. Fucking. Thing.
Now the memory is less fond. He recalls tools and materials spread out about the floor somewhere next to them. One of her projects. Just like him.
The music blares loudly in his ears, some popular song he wished he cared enough to know about.
"The Billboard Top 100," she exclaimed, setting a tablet in front of him, "The year is 2013, everything you need to know about recent music is on that list right there."
He flips through the list, only catching sight of a few on his way down. (Radioactive, Roar, and Royals, this seemed to be the year of the "r").
"100."
"100," she repeated, "And if you know what's good for you, you'll check out Wakanda's too. That can be this year though, we make bops all the time." she said proudly as he scoffed.
"As a matter of fact," she throwed offhandedly, snapping her fingers at yet another device, this time something called an "AI", "Dora, play 'Kahle' by Amanda Black."
A slow beat played as a woman vocalized in Xhosa. Shuri tilted her head from side to side while her fists in front of her chest swayed at the same time. It was adorable.
"You're only listening to that trash," she pointed to the tablet, "for purely educational reasons. Once you finish, this is what you should be listening to." she said once the song ended.
God, everything comes back to her doesn't it?
"He's back at the bar wallowing in his sorrows." rings out a voice behind him. If he were anyone else - except for Steve - he wouldn't have even heard it over the loud music. But Bucky Barnes isn't just anyone.
He turns to see Natasha again, in a more casual outfit than this morning at the compound, speaking into her cellphone.
"How did you find...?... I'm not even going to ask." he says, before turning back straight ahead of him. She sits on the stool next to him, tucking the device back into her pocket.
"Are you ever going to answer my question?"
He shakes his head.
"James..." she huffs, exasperated. She puts a comforting hand on his arm before continuing, "The guys. They're worried about you. Ever since you and Sam went on your little trip, you've been acting...like this." she waves a hand down his profile.
He doesn't say anything, so she continues.
"Can you say something? Anything?" she moves her hand to cross her arms. "Everyone else is trying to be considerate by leaving you alone but keep this up and you're going to be an alcoholic-"
He almost laughs at that.
"-So I'm going to ask you again, Why are you still here?"
He turns his head to her dramatically. "Would you rather I leave? Am I that much of a nuisance?" he says setting his glass down.
She rolls her eyes and says, "No. You've just avoided Wakanda like the damn plague and I want to know why. We all thought you would run back as soon as you got the chance but you're still here and you look fucking miserable. You love that place, why not go back?"
"I need to move on."
"You can't grow if you're stuck dwelling on the past. You did that stuff, but it was involuntarily. Any person with sense wouldn't blame you. You need to move on."
Her eyes narrow. "Is there something you're not telling us?"
Is it not obvious?, he thinks. These days, there's just about a million things he hasn't told anyone. Not even Steve.
It's not the same as it was. Steve is married to now. Got eloped to Sam as soon as the man came back from the dead. He's so happy now, and it'd be downright cruel of him to burden him with his own problems.
"All these damn questions. Just leave me alone," he tries to resolve, "I'll figure it out on my own."
He's good for her, he keeps telling himself. Better than you'd ever be, he knows. Shuri's happiness is the only reason he doesn't run back to Wakanda right now.
He tilts his head back and watches the light dance over Natasha's features. She looks ethereal in the dim reds and greens, much too delicate for this dingy place he's lead her into.
She stares back at him, and then something seems to click.
"She's getting married." she realizes, eyes softening, "I'm sorry, I didn't... We don't have to talk abou- I should probably be going now." she slides off the stool and starts to straighten her clothing when Bucky suddenly grabs her arm.
"She really is a genius." Natasha said underneath her breath in awe as Shuri explained how the force field around Wakanda worked, and how their enemy would have no luck penetrating it.
"Oh, you've seen nothing," Bucky replied pridefully, "She's.." he rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying his best to find an adequate adjective for the princess' intelligence. "God, she's just amazing. I can't begin to describe her," he stopped to laugh, looking down at his feet bashfully, "I don't think I'm qualified enough to."
He watched the way her face lit up talking about things he could never understand. He definitely wasn't qualified enough to even have the privilege of listening to her.
When he turned back to Natasha, she was looking at him, and seemed to be contemplating something. Bucky couldn't tell what the look in her eyes was.
Now he knows. She knew.
"Stay." he whispers, pleading with his eyes. He's on the brink of tears now, "Please. Stay."
She sits back next to him, but this time orders her own drink.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
He sighs. "I don't even want to think about it."
They sit in silence for about an hour and a half and for Bucky, the noise in the background blurs.
Two people dance next to him, probably drunk because they almost bump into the table. He doesn't know if he's getting tired or the alcohol is actually kicking in but suddenly everything seems that much more sensual.
Natasha catches him staring at the couple. "It would be nice wouldn't it?" she mutters, sighing.
Then suddenly, along with the song, the air shifts. Natasha narrows her eyes again, but this time, for a much, much different reason. So maybe he's not as immune as he might've thought. Or maybe it's the setting, or the situation.
"We're really doing this?" he breathes out.
She's thrown off her game by his bluntness. "I mean, if that's is what you wa-"
"Yes." he interjects.
"My car's outside," she says pointing past a couple dozen people and to the door, "We should probably head out don't you think?"
"Yeah, yeah, probably."
She was supposed to drive them to the compound, but quickly changed plans when Bucky put his hand on her thigh, almost tickling, and slowly moved inward. She swerved into some back alley.
Now she climbs over to the passenger seat as he winds his right hand in her hair. Right knee digging into his seat, she swings her other leg over and lands straddling him.
Her hands rest flat on his chest as she looks straight into his eyes.
In a split second their lips come crashing together, and in the next their mouths are open, tongues fighting for more.
It's not tentative and no where near gentle. Her hands move into his own hair, freeing it from the loose ponytail as she pulls him in even closer, deepening the kiss.
She moves her body right against him at the same pace of the swipes of her tongue, fast; hard.
Now that's exactly what he is, and every rough groan against her lips that leaves his mouth tells her that.
Natasha pulls away suddenly, breathing heavily, "You really want this?" she asks for the second time, wide green eyes and pupils dilated, staring up at him as she lifts herself from his crotch. His cock strains against his pants, throbbing now, and the answer is still the same as before.
"Yes." he groans, and as soon as he says the word she comes back down, grinding against him before sliding off. She twists as far as she can to see the dashboard, where she presses a button. His seat moves back, giving her enough space to kneel in front of him.
Her hair is mussed up, and lips swollen as she's on her knees; just for him. It's beautiful.
He makes quick work of pulling down his zipper and freeing himself. As he adjusts to the change he sighs.
Natasha situates her face about an inch from his dick and when she breathes, breath ghosting just over his head, he can't help but buck his hips out towards her.
She grabs him and her hands, cold in comparison to his hot length, flutter, her fingernails barely scraping him. Not one to beg, he leads her himself, grabbing the back of her head.
She leans over and licks a broad stripe up his cock, and he shivers at the touch. Her moist tongue circles his head. She does it again, and again, and again, and again. She suddenly stops and looks him in the eye, her tongue only floating over the tip of his dick.
Then she swallows him whole.
He leans his head on the headrest, one arm leading Natasha up and down over his length, the other digging into the leather seat. He's too blissed out to hear the fabric shred under his metal digits.
Eventually, as he feels his orgasm building up, he closes his eyes. He tells himself it's just so he can feel. But what he tells himself is never the truth, is it?
He's imagining she's someone else. Someone with more slender fingers and less experience. Someone he loves.
He comes a few seconds after Sh- Natasha starts fondling his straining balls, and as he does, he sees white, the pleasure spreading across his body as he cries out.
The serum makes for speedy recoveries. In about a minute he's back up at attention and pulling her up with one hand as the other works to take off her pants.
When he finally finds his bearings, he feels nothing short of horrible. And he knows exactly why. But what he doesn't know, is how. He and Shuri aren't together, never will be. Fuck-
That's just the problem isn't it?
They never will be.
If he had even the slightest chance before, it's been completely decimated.
First a single tear falls down his cheek. Then he starts shaking, and the tears start flowing.
Bucky only looks up from the car window when they get to the building.
Catching his eye, Natasha says, "So much for not thinking."