The Dream Below, 8/8. NC-17
Title: The Dream Below
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: *deep breath* Steve/Bucky, Steve/Natasha, Steve/Bucky/Natasha, Clint/Natasha, Loki/Natasha, Tony/Pepper, Maria/Natasha, Jane/Thor.
Disclaimer: Not mine! Not even by a little bit.
Spoilers/Warnings: MCU AU. Based off of this AU gifset on Tumblr. Come on, a mashup of Inception and the MCU. *drools* Did you really think I could stay away from this? No, I didn't think so either. :D Title and chapter titles from Linkin Park's "Castle of Glass."
Summary: Thor of Odin Corp. hires Steve Rogers' elite dream sharing team to perform inception on his brother, Loki, and a shade of their ex-resident thief Bucky (who was killed when the team's last job went horribly wrong) tries his best to sabotage it.
Or: Steve extracts, Tony builds, Clint runs point, Natasha's a master of impersonation, Bruce concocts, Thor's a tourist, and things happen.
Prior chapters:
One - Through The Secrets That I Have Seen
Two - Wash The Poison From Off My Skin
Three - Warm Me Up In A Nova's Glow
Four - Drop Me Down To The Dream Below
Five - Past The Black Where The Sirens Sing
Six - Take Me Down To The Fighting End
Seven - Bring Me Home In A Blinding Dream
Eight - Wash The Sorrow From Off My Skin
Making her way back into the main area, she found Clint first. "We're good. It's done."
"You sure?" Clint asked, a tinge of anxiety in his features.
"He accepted his projection of his father as his father, and the projection asked him to keep the family together and take care of it. I think we're good."
Clint's shoulders sagged in relief. "Fantastic. Steve is around here somewhere, and Thor is right where you left him. Let's blow this popsicle stand and get topside."
They hadn't seen Bucky yet, in other words, and no one was in a particular hurry to meet him.
Steve was sitting next to Thor, and apparently they were hammering out details on the payments that should have been outlined in the contract. It sounded like he was asking for more hazard pay, given the complexity of the already terribly complex job, and Thor was exhausted enough to admit he had been in over his head when he insisted on coming with them. "All right, you all may have had a point," he sighed, leaning heavily against him. "But I needed to see... He's my brother. My brother. Whatever else he might have thought, he's my brother. And I had to see for myself that he's all right."
Nodding, Steve clasped Thor's hand tightly. "And we are very careful. You've seen it." He looked up when Clint and Natasha approached. She was wearing her own face, not concerned about Loki seeing it when he was still in the sickroom. "Hey. You finished?"
"It's done. I think it took," Natasha told them with a slight smile. "We'll have to see for sure in the real world, but if his projections are anything to go by, the idea has embedded itself."
Thor's relief was palpable. "Thank you. All of you, thank you."
"Now all we have to do is start staging the kicks to get us out of the levels," Clint said.
Steve's gaze slid sideways, and his jaw dropped. He got to his feet murmuring "No" right before the sound of a gunshot resounded through the room. Clint turned, shoving Natasha behind him as he moved. She squeaked in surprise and tripped over Thor's feet, falling to the floor and knocking Steve's feet out from under him. Despite his injury, Thor tried to bend down to help Natasha and Steve rise to their feet. That left only Clint standing up, a USP Compact suddenly in his hand and aimed at the source of the gun.
So he was the one that Bucky shot.
Shrieking, Natasha got to her feet, a Glock 19 in each hand. She fired at Bucky as she moved, missing, but it got him on the move and had the projections scattering. He growled at them and tossed his gun aside as he pulled out a new one. Bucky stalked forward, laughing at her when she didn't connect. Natasha was damn good, so the only reason why she missed was some hesitancy she had in shooting him.
"Get Thor out of here," she hissed to Steve. "Finish the job, get them topside!"
"I can't leave you behind," Steve replied.
"Just do your fucking job!" she cried, shooting again when Bucky would have shot at them.
Thankfully, Steve didn't protest further. He dragged Thor out of the room and toward the sickroom. He would get Thor and Loki to a safe place. If he had his head on straight, he would set charges in the basement that would destroy the house's foundations. The resulting collapse would serve as a violent kick to wake them all into the upper level. From there, further explosions would kick them up again and again, until they woke to the real world. Loki would have to remain sedated long enough for the rest of them to leave the room and filter back into the Odinson party.
Assuming they all could wake up.
"What do you want, Bucky?" she said as he continued to approach while she swapped out her empty magazine for a new one. Behind her was Clint and the hallway to the sickroom. She had to keep them safe.
"You," he intoned. "Drop your gun."
Before she could bring her gun up to bear, his was pointed at the center of her forehead. If he pulled the trigger-oh God, his finger was right over it, he was ready to fire at any moment-then she would never wake up again.
Natasha stared at the gun in Bucky's hand, the long, lank hair and the dead, empty eyes. There was no mistaking that look, that intent.
There really was no choice, was there?
She let her guns fall to the floor, and she lifted her chin as she stared at him. Still between Bucky and the others, there was nothing stopping him from shooting her. "Natasha, no!" Clint screamed, realizing what she was about to do. But he was shot, and if he bled out and died, he would never wake up again. If Bucky killed her here, she wouldn't wake up again.
But at least the others would.
"Go," she said, not taking her eyes off of Bucky. "You finish the mission. I'll stay here, and we'll figure it all out."
"You can't," Clint cried, voice breaking.
Natasha halfway turned toward him, lips curling a little into her favorite sardonic smile. She wanted him to remember her in control and not afraid. She wanted him to remember her in her element, not twitching with barely contained fear.
"I've got this, Clint. You go on. I'll catch up with you later."
She didn't resist when Bucky yanked at her arm and led her away from the others.
***
Natasha stared at Bucky, eyes searching his face. This was a projection, after all, and it wasn't even hers. This was Bucky, not James, and she wasn't sure what she could expect. There wasn't any rage in his expression, only curiosity.
"You're not afraid of me."
Her lips curled into a soft smile. "After the history we've had? No."
"I'm not the real thing," he said, coming closer, a swagger in his step. Oh, that walk used to make her mouth water, used to make her pull him close and rip his shirt off, buttons flying every which way. "How can you trust me?"
"Because Steve does, and I trust Steve. He wouldn't hurt me. His version of you wouldn't hurt me." She stayed very still as he approached, eyes glinting oddly. "Because we still love you," she said softly, "and I think you still love us. Why else do this?"
Bucky grasped hold of her back of her neck, angling her head to look up further at him. "You think I love you?" he snarled.
"I know you do," she replied in that same gentle voice, placing her hands delicately on his chest the way she used to. "Why else herd us here? Why else try to keep us?" She reached up and placed her fingers over his lips when he would have replied. "But you're forgetting something, because Steve wouldn't ever consider it."
"Oh?" Bucky sneered. "What's that?"
"If we stay here with you, our bodies will die."
He froze for a split second; no, Steve had never thought of that. "It's a lie. And even if it was true, we'd have several lifetimes here."
"But then it's over. No one to dream of you ever again. No one to remember you."
He shook her neck once, viciously. "You didn't remember."
Natasha reached up and pulled on his earlobe sharply; it was a sensitive spot, and Bucky winced, letting go of her neck. "I remember everything," she hissed. "James. I had to pick up the pieces left in your wake. I had to get Steve out of there, your blood in my mouth and your breath in my chest. I had to nurse him when he wouldn't eat, when he stared out the window like his soul was gone. I had to chase down the creditors, follow the leads. I had to get even, because he couldn't do it. I did it all on my own, and I had to be strong enough for both of us, because he couldn't do it. I couldn't afford to look weak, to give in to grief, to howl and cry and weep. So I made sure they did it for me."
Bucky froze. "What?"
Natasha locked eyes with Bucky, her heart in her throat. It was a projection, not the real Bucky, not her James, but that didn't matter in that moment. "It's been a year, James," she began, voice hoarse as if she had screamed. "Steve couldn't handle it. I couldn't tell him. So I picked up the pieces and I made sure to get even. Every last one of them. Because I went over it in my head. A thousand times, a thousand different ways, trying to figure out how it could have gone so wrong that day. And you know what?"
He stared at her intently, not even breathing or blinking. Projections were eerie that way.
"We didn't do anything wrong. I went under, analyzed everything, looked for any clues, no matter how minor. My memory is good, James. I was your backup. And it was all there, all of it. We didn't fuck it up. It didn't go wrong because of us. It wasn't us."
"If it wasn't us..." he began softly.
"We were set up. We were never meant to get that information. The extraction was a fake, meant to set us up as the fall guy. It was blind luck that Steve and I got out, only because of your quick thinking. You saved us, you sacrificed yourself." She reached up and cradled his face in her hands. "We've been broken without you, but we lived."
"You didn't look broken," Bucky replied sulkily, wrenching himself from her.
"I couldn't crack," Natasha told him, her voice betraying her anger. "I couldn't buckle, couldn't grieve, couldn't afford to give an inch. I held him together! For you, for me, for us, to keep your memory alive, James. I did everything. I got the jobs, I did the forges, I stalked, I killed, I stole. Everyone that fucked with us is gone. They drowned in their own blood, and there is no way to trace it back to us."
"Fuck," Bucky said, pacing back and forth in an agitated manner. "I didn't know."
"I know," Natasha said gently. "I couldn't tell Steve. He couldn't handle it."
"No, he couldn't," he agreed, a crooked smile on his face. "He was the bright star between us, the one with hope and innocence."
Natasha snorted. "Not that innocent."
Bucky laughed, a bright and cheerful sound that she hadn't heard in a long time. It made her gut clench with pain; grief spiked sharp and horrible in her chest, and she surged forward to grasp his shirt. "James," she began, her voice breaking.
"We were the darker parts of him," Bucky said, grabbing hold of her arms. He lifted her up and spun her around, until her back slammed into the wall. "You, who could do everything, and me, who would do anything to keep him happy. He never had to do the seedy shit, because we did it for him, we kept him shining and beautiful."
"My hands are washed in blood," Natasha whispered, "especially now. If it was a ledger, it would be gushing, dripping red. There's no way to make up for the evil I've done."
"Maybe we don't deserve forgiveness," Bucky replied, leaning in to kiss her. "Maybe people like us belong in the dark, only glimpsing the light."
She was consumed in his kiss. "Or maybe we have to make our own light where we can."
With the fluidity of dreams, their clothes were ripped off and tossed everywhere, their mouths still fused together in a kiss that threatened to consume her soul. This was Bucky, no, James, her James, the one that could be so tender and dorky at the same time he was fucking her right up against the wall. And then he was spinning her around, so that her bare back was against the wall, textured wallpaper pressing into her skin. He hoisted her up effortlessly, fingers biting into the flesh of her thighs, and she reached down between their bodies to help guide his erect cock into her wet sheath. He slid home, making her gasp at the flash of pure pleasure that shot through her. "Oh my god, it's been so long, James."
"Yes, it has."
"If you'd done this instead of killing me..."
"Didn't know I could," he growled.
Then there was his mouth over hers as he drove into her relentlessly, driving the pleasure through her, a hot bolt that she could feel deep inside her body. She shivered and writhed, her own fingers pulling him closer, as if his deeper thrusts weren't deep enough, as if he could melt into her skin and drive her wild from the inside out. Even when she was coming, he kept going. Another few thrusts, then he picked her up and walked backward unerringly toward the bed.
"I love you, James Buchanan Barnes," she said tenderly, her arms still wrapped around him. "You're a good man. You were a good man."
"Not really, but then, you always understood that."
As they kissed, he swept her around and pressed her into the bed with the fluidity of a dream. He was still rock hard inside her, and he fucked the way she remembered. It was hard and fast and filthy as hell, his voice wrapping itself around her.
The door to the room banged open until it hit the wall. "What the fuck?"
Natasha tilted her head to the side and saw Steve, jaw fallen open in shock. His cheeks carried a slight flush, as if he had run a marathon to find them, sweat at his hairline and tight T shirt clinging to his chest and abs almost obscenely. He wore jeans and a shoulder holster in plain sight; perhaps some of Loki's projections prowled the dreamscape.
"I found James. Join us," Natasha said, just as if this was celebratory sex after a job. God, it hurt to hear her own voice, to see the confusion and shock and want in Steve's eyes. They had fucked and made love and given each other solace a year ago, before she had to walk away for her own sanity, but it hadn't been the same. Something had been missing.
Someone had been missing.
As if in a dream - haha, the irony was not lost on her - Steve came forward. The door shut behind him, lock clicking into place. His hands shook, his blue eyes fixed on Bucky. He grasped Steve by the shirtfront, pulling him even closer and then kissing him as if his life depended on it, as if Steve was the only source of water in a desert, as if everything would splinter apart without him. Considering Bucky was a projection, yes it would.
Natasha reached over and rubbed Steve's growing erection through his clothes. "Get rid of those, Rogers," she purred. His cock jerked under her touch, a low whine in his throat.
His clothes disappeared and she pulled at his hip to get him clambering up onto the bed. At her annoyed tap on Bucky's chest, their kiss broke off. "Position change, Barnes," she barked. Both perked up at the command, just like the old days, and it hurt in a good way to see it again. Oh, how she missed this, how she sobbed herself to sleep with her hand between her legs, a poor substitute for their glory days.
Kneeling on the bed, she perched on hands and knees as Bucky took her from behind. Then she pulled Steve into position so that she could take his thick cock into her mouth as he knelt in front of her. That left his mouth free to kiss Bucky.
She remembered cradling Steve in her arms, his touch tender and sweet, his body rocking into hers. She remembered how he made love to her, then Bucky's hand coming to slide down Steve's spine until he came down to the cleft of his ass. Steve's rhythm always stuttered when Bucky's fingers worked him open; he was always surprised by the cold lube and warm fingers, by the fullness and stretch, the spark of pleasure that became a slow burn. The three of them, in concert, rhythm perfected with practice, whatever combinations they could think of, even if they openly mocked all the threesome porn they could find on the internet.
This time, with the fluidity of dreams, they shifted so that Steve on his back and Natasha could climb up on top of him. Sinking down over his cock was blissfully pleasurable, something that had her sighing in contentment. "Mmmm. God, I missed this," Steve murmured, reaching up to caress her breasts. "I missed you. I missed us."
Bucky took up the bottle of lube that appeared beside them on the bed, grinning at him just the way he used to. "Of course you did, pal. And I'm gonna fuck you like I fucked Tash, and it's going to leave you speechless."
He groaned, loving the dirty talk, and arched up a little as Natasha began to ride him. Bucky slid his hand along her spine, pitching her forward with a gentle shove. As that happened, a pillow formed beneath Steve's hips, tilting them up and opening his legs. Natasha fell forward and braced herself on her hands, placing them on either side of Steve's head. He had one hand fondling a breast, the other at her hip, pulling her in as she pushed herself down on his cock. As usual, he jerked a little when Bucky slid slicked fingers along his ass. "Idiot," Natasha told him with a grin. She turned behind her to look at Bucky's satisfied expression. "Quit jerking his chain and fuck him already. Give it to him good."
"Yes, ma'am," Bucky replied, that lazy and self satisfied grin on his face. He even saluted her, the punk. But he scissored his fingers inside of Steve's ass, making him grab Natasha tight as he cried out. "Come on, Stevie. Come," Bucky said, twisting and curling his fingers.
It was a dream, there was no such thing as a refractory period if you knew how to manipulate the conditions of the dream. They did, and had fucked each other in dreams before. So Steve could spill himself inside of Natasha and still thrust up into her, not softening at all. And he could cry out as Bucky slid his cock inside of his ass, the stretch and burn and pleasure pushing him past limits he thought he had.
"Fuck," Steve groaned, eyes squeezed tight and head thrown back into the pillow.
"That's the idea, genius," Bucky snarked.
Natasha clenched her inner muscles and made a crooning sound as Bucky slid a hand around her hip to find her clit. She shifted back a little, her back flush against Bucky's chest, and the two of them worked out a see-sawing rhythm that made Steve cry out and arch beneath them, coming again with a shout. Yet still they continued, moving with a desperate intensity.
Collapsing into a boneless heap after a few more orgasms - Was it two? Three? More? Who cared anyway? - the trio was nothing more than a tangle of limbs and bare skin. It didn't matter who was stroked and cradled and nuzzled, not the way their relationship used to be. It was comfort now, coming down off the high, a sweet buzz in their veins.
And it was bittersweet, grief and love and adoration and desperation all together.
Finally, Natasha slid from the bed, smiling gently at the two men still sprawled there. She laid a finger over Steve's lips. "Say goodbye, Steve." Leaning over them, she kissed Bucky's shoulder and then Steve's forehead. "I already have a thousand times, but it was good to do it again."
She slipped her feet into the Louboutins that she kicked off earlier. As she did, her dress was on her body like a second skin again, hiding the slick slide of come between her thighs. Natasha didn't want to get rid of that reminder, and no one else had to know. Her hair was perfectly coiffed with the jeweled pins back in place. Ah, dream share. She looked over her shoulder at the two men, a confident smirk on her face. "Now I have to go save the job. Again."
"She always did impress me," Bucky told Steve with an admiring smile, his hand coming to rest on Steve's waist.
"I know," Natasha replied, turning around with a little flounce to her step.
Just like the old days.
This time, she welcomed the burn of grief and loss as she walked through the door.
***
Natasha made her way up through the kicks easily, and was grateful to see Clint on the first level with Loki and Steve still attached to the PASIV. She could tell he had waited for her, unable to leave the dream without her. "Hey," she said, smiling as she sat up.
"Steve okay?"
"Yeah. I think he'll be okay. It's being worked out, and he'll wake up."
Clint's mouth worked for a moment, taking in her calm reassurance, and his expression shifted a little. "He insisted on going to look for you. Having Bucky around was his fault, and I kind of wasn't in any position to stop him," Clint admitted, defeat in his tone. "How many times haven't I been good enough to get to you-"
"Don't," Natasha whispered, taking his face in her hands. "Don't do that to yourself."
"I wasn't there when you needed me."
"Wake up, Clint. You're always there when I need you, in the dream or waking up. You took that bullet for me on that level down there. You shifted roles in this thing. And... You've been waiting for me forever to make up my damn mind, to stop being so many different people. I think you'd wait forever if I was cruel enough to do it."
"You're not making me do anything," he protested, catching her hands in his. "I love you."
It felt right this time around, though Natasha couldn't have said why. Maybe because she was letting go of James, of the guilt she had felt herself. Because she could give Steve time, because she let him know indirectly that she had done all she could to keep him safe, and keep James' memory protected.
Maybe because this time, she was truly ready to move on.
"I love you, Clint Barton. Let's get out of here, eat fancy food, drink expensive booze, then go to our hotel room and have fantastic sex."
He laughed and kissed her, his arms closing tight around her. She held his gaze, walking backward toward the open elevator shaft behind them. "I love you," she whispered again, reveling in the feel of the words before they tipped over the edge.
They fell-
-and then woke up at the party. Jane had done her due diligence, and was unhooking everyone as they woke, making sure that Pepper kept a close watch over Loki's sedation levels. "That just leaves..." Jane began, looking over at Steve and Loki.
"He'll wake up," Natasha told her confidently.
It took another few anxious minutes, but Steve finally woke up, a content expression on his face when he sat up. "We did it," he murmured to Jane as she removed the needles from his wrist. He looked over at Thor, taking in his nod of acceptance. "Now we can really enjoy that party, huh?"
They all filtered back into the party, and Natasha caught sight of Loki when he emerged into the main area. He looked tired, perhaps. Maybe groggy. Bypassing the alcohol, he moved around the room to check on guests. That helped him eventually get his usual alertness level back, and the movement also helped his body metabolize the last of the sedatives. Perfect.
"Natalie," Loki murmured, eventually trying to catch her attention. She was of course hyperalert to his presence, to try to see if the inception took, if he was any different than before. Of all the players in this little three act play, she was the best equipped to recognize it.
"Loki," she said, turning around to face him. She carried two glasses of champagne in her hands, and had a polite smile on her face. His gaze swept over her, not exactly possessive, not like before, but with a tender familiarity. On some level, he remembered pieces of the dream. "How can I help you? I thought I was off the clock?"
"What? Oh, yes. Yes, you are. This isn't for the company. It's... I would like to have dinner with you. Surely you aren't leaving Paris just yet?"
Natasha heard the question he wasn't asking in the gentle tone of voice. Oh yes, he was a changed man, all right. Gone was the arrogant swagger in his stance and haughty tenor as he spoke with others. "Why are you asking?"
"I'm sure my brother can extend the contract with Odin Corporation," Loki began. "If you feel my doing so would be a conflict of interest."
Brother.
Glory, hallelujah, it worked.
Of course it did, they all bent over backward and nearly died to make sure it did. Natasha didn't have to fake anything to flash him a brilliant smile, and Loki visibly reacted to it much as he had in the dream. Poor man. He would forever chase it as well.
"It wouldn't be, but I can't stay in Paris." She let her gaze settle on Clint, who she unerringly found in the crowd. "I have other plans."
Loki's gaze followed hers, and she heard the way his breath caught. "You have a lover."
"I'm not sure what to call him, to be honest," she replied easily and honestly. This honesty thing was something else. She should try it out more often with the subjects. They responded so well to it, and she didn't have to juggle too many different details at once. "He's been waiting on me to make up my mind about what I want. I still haven't figured it out, and he's okay with that. He's been waiting a long time, and if I never do, he'll still be here with me."
"That's why you do locum tenens work," Loki said with a sighing breath.
"I hope someday I figure it out. He deserves all of me, not just the fragments that are safe with him." She had the brilliant smile at Loki again. "He's a good man."
"I would hope so. If not... find me. I'll take care of him." At her raised eyebrow, he looked away, a little embarrassed. "I may harbor some feelings for you, Natalie. I feel like I know you. The way you move, your adoptive family, your-"
"I'm not adopted," Natasha interrupted, hoping to make a clear break between reality and the dream he had just woken from. That threw him a little, and she toned down her smile to one of social politeness. "I wonder why you thought I was."
The embarrassment was worse now, and she hoped she didn't trigger some kind of rage born of wounded pride. "I suppose I dreamed it. I dreamed of you a lot lately."
Natasha put the glasses down and touched his arm gently. "I'm flattered, I am. But there's not much to me, Loki. And I'm very happily taken. But I do hope you find someone that values you for who you are. All of you, good and bad, and makes you happy."
Loki looked at her, nodding. "Thank you. And I wish you luck with your lover."
She stepped away from Clint, who caught her eyes. He returned her smile once she grinned brightly at him, retrieving the glasses of champagne. "Thank you. You and your brother take care, Loki. I did enjoy working on this job. It made all the difficult parts worth it."
He might not have understood the nuance in her words, but he nodded and bid her farewell anyway. She made her way to Clint's side and handed him the drink. She could see Steve and Thor talking, his entire body language relaxed and open for the first time in the months they had been working together. Tony and Pepper were talking with Bruce and Jane, all looking friendly and calm. "I think they'll all be okay."
Clint chugged the champagne quickly, as if it wasn't ridiculously expensive and classy, then put the glass aside. "Yeah. I think we'll all be okay now." He waited for her to finish her glass and then extended his arm in a gallant manner. "May I have this dance?"
Natasha smiled warmly at him, accepting his arm. "Forever, Clint, absolutely."
The End
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: *deep breath* Steve/Bucky, Steve/Natasha, Steve/Bucky/Natasha, Clint/Natasha, Loki/Natasha, Tony/Pepper, Maria/Natasha, Jane/Thor.
Disclaimer: Not mine! Not even by a little bit.
Spoilers/Warnings: MCU AU. Based off of this AU gifset on Tumblr. Come on, a mashup of Inception and the MCU. *drools* Did you really think I could stay away from this? No, I didn't think so either. :D Title and chapter titles from Linkin Park's "Castle of Glass."
Summary: Thor of Odin Corp. hires Steve Rogers' elite dream sharing team to perform inception on his brother, Loki, and a shade of their ex-resident thief Bucky (who was killed when the team's last job went horribly wrong) tries his best to sabotage it.
Or: Steve extracts, Tony builds, Clint runs point, Natasha's a master of impersonation, Bruce concocts, Thor's a tourist, and things happen.
Prior chapters:
One - Through The Secrets That I Have Seen
Two - Wash The Poison From Off My Skin
Three - Warm Me Up In A Nova's Glow
Four - Drop Me Down To The Dream Below
Five - Past The Black Where The Sirens Sing
Six - Take Me Down To The Fighting End
Seven - Bring Me Home In A Blinding Dream
Eight - Wash The Sorrow From Off My Skin
Making her way back into the main area, she found Clint first. "We're good. It's done."
"You sure?" Clint asked, a tinge of anxiety in his features.
"He accepted his projection of his father as his father, and the projection asked him to keep the family together and take care of it. I think we're good."
Clint's shoulders sagged in relief. "Fantastic. Steve is around here somewhere, and Thor is right where you left him. Let's blow this popsicle stand and get topside."
They hadn't seen Bucky yet, in other words, and no one was in a particular hurry to meet him.
Steve was sitting next to Thor, and apparently they were hammering out details on the payments that should have been outlined in the contract. It sounded like he was asking for more hazard pay, given the complexity of the already terribly complex job, and Thor was exhausted enough to admit he had been in over his head when he insisted on coming with them. "All right, you all may have had a point," he sighed, leaning heavily against him. "But I needed to see... He's my brother. My brother. Whatever else he might have thought, he's my brother. And I had to see for myself that he's all right."
Nodding, Steve clasped Thor's hand tightly. "And we are very careful. You've seen it." He looked up when Clint and Natasha approached. She was wearing her own face, not concerned about Loki seeing it when he was still in the sickroom. "Hey. You finished?"
"It's done. I think it took," Natasha told them with a slight smile. "We'll have to see for sure in the real world, but if his projections are anything to go by, the idea has embedded itself."
Thor's relief was palpable. "Thank you. All of you, thank you."
"Now all we have to do is start staging the kicks to get us out of the levels," Clint said.
Steve's gaze slid sideways, and his jaw dropped. He got to his feet murmuring "No" right before the sound of a gunshot resounded through the room. Clint turned, shoving Natasha behind him as he moved. She squeaked in surprise and tripped over Thor's feet, falling to the floor and knocking Steve's feet out from under him. Despite his injury, Thor tried to bend down to help Natasha and Steve rise to their feet. That left only Clint standing up, a USP Compact suddenly in his hand and aimed at the source of the gun.
So he was the one that Bucky shot.
Shrieking, Natasha got to her feet, a Glock 19 in each hand. She fired at Bucky as she moved, missing, but it got him on the move and had the projections scattering. He growled at them and tossed his gun aside as he pulled out a new one. Bucky stalked forward, laughing at her when she didn't connect. Natasha was damn good, so the only reason why she missed was some hesitancy she had in shooting him.
"Get Thor out of here," she hissed to Steve. "Finish the job, get them topside!"
"I can't leave you behind," Steve replied.
"Just do your fucking job!" she cried, shooting again when Bucky would have shot at them.
Thankfully, Steve didn't protest further. He dragged Thor out of the room and toward the sickroom. He would get Thor and Loki to a safe place. If he had his head on straight, he would set charges in the basement that would destroy the house's foundations. The resulting collapse would serve as a violent kick to wake them all into the upper level. From there, further explosions would kick them up again and again, until they woke to the real world. Loki would have to remain sedated long enough for the rest of them to leave the room and filter back into the Odinson party.
Assuming they all could wake up.
"What do you want, Bucky?" she said as he continued to approach while she swapped out her empty magazine for a new one. Behind her was Clint and the hallway to the sickroom. She had to keep them safe.
"You," he intoned. "Drop your gun."
Before she could bring her gun up to bear, his was pointed at the center of her forehead. If he pulled the trigger-oh God, his finger was right over it, he was ready to fire at any moment-then she would never wake up again.
Natasha stared at the gun in Bucky's hand, the long, lank hair and the dead, empty eyes. There was no mistaking that look, that intent.
There really was no choice, was there?
She let her guns fall to the floor, and she lifted her chin as she stared at him. Still between Bucky and the others, there was nothing stopping him from shooting her. "Natasha, no!" Clint screamed, realizing what she was about to do. But he was shot, and if he bled out and died, he would never wake up again. If Bucky killed her here, she wouldn't wake up again.
But at least the others would.
"Go," she said, not taking her eyes off of Bucky. "You finish the mission. I'll stay here, and we'll figure it all out."
"You can't," Clint cried, voice breaking.
Natasha halfway turned toward him, lips curling a little into her favorite sardonic smile. She wanted him to remember her in control and not afraid. She wanted him to remember her in her element, not twitching with barely contained fear.
"I've got this, Clint. You go on. I'll catch up with you later."
She didn't resist when Bucky yanked at her arm and led her away from the others.
***
Natasha stared at Bucky, eyes searching his face. This was a projection, after all, and it wasn't even hers. This was Bucky, not James, and she wasn't sure what she could expect. There wasn't any rage in his expression, only curiosity.
"You're not afraid of me."
Her lips curled into a soft smile. "After the history we've had? No."
"I'm not the real thing," he said, coming closer, a swagger in his step. Oh, that walk used to make her mouth water, used to make her pull him close and rip his shirt off, buttons flying every which way. "How can you trust me?"
"Because Steve does, and I trust Steve. He wouldn't hurt me. His version of you wouldn't hurt me." She stayed very still as he approached, eyes glinting oddly. "Because we still love you," she said softly, "and I think you still love us. Why else do this?"
Bucky grasped hold of her back of her neck, angling her head to look up further at him. "You think I love you?" he snarled.
"I know you do," she replied in that same gentle voice, placing her hands delicately on his chest the way she used to. "Why else herd us here? Why else try to keep us?" She reached up and placed her fingers over his lips when he would have replied. "But you're forgetting something, because Steve wouldn't ever consider it."
"Oh?" Bucky sneered. "What's that?"
"If we stay here with you, our bodies will die."
He froze for a split second; no, Steve had never thought of that. "It's a lie. And even if it was true, we'd have several lifetimes here."
"But then it's over. No one to dream of you ever again. No one to remember you."
He shook her neck once, viciously. "You didn't remember."
Natasha reached up and pulled on his earlobe sharply; it was a sensitive spot, and Bucky winced, letting go of her neck. "I remember everything," she hissed. "James. I had to pick up the pieces left in your wake. I had to get Steve out of there, your blood in my mouth and your breath in my chest. I had to nurse him when he wouldn't eat, when he stared out the window like his soul was gone. I had to chase down the creditors, follow the leads. I had to get even, because he couldn't do it. I did it all on my own, and I had to be strong enough for both of us, because he couldn't do it. I couldn't afford to look weak, to give in to grief, to howl and cry and weep. So I made sure they did it for me."
Bucky froze. "What?"
Natasha locked eyes with Bucky, her heart in her throat. It was a projection, not the real Bucky, not her James, but that didn't matter in that moment. "It's been a year, James," she began, voice hoarse as if she had screamed. "Steve couldn't handle it. I couldn't tell him. So I picked up the pieces and I made sure to get even. Every last one of them. Because I went over it in my head. A thousand times, a thousand different ways, trying to figure out how it could have gone so wrong that day. And you know what?"
He stared at her intently, not even breathing or blinking. Projections were eerie that way.
"We didn't do anything wrong. I went under, analyzed everything, looked for any clues, no matter how minor. My memory is good, James. I was your backup. And it was all there, all of it. We didn't fuck it up. It didn't go wrong because of us. It wasn't us."
"If it wasn't us..." he began softly.
"We were set up. We were never meant to get that information. The extraction was a fake, meant to set us up as the fall guy. It was blind luck that Steve and I got out, only because of your quick thinking. You saved us, you sacrificed yourself." She reached up and cradled his face in her hands. "We've been broken without you, but we lived."
"You didn't look broken," Bucky replied sulkily, wrenching himself from her.
"I couldn't crack," Natasha told him, her voice betraying her anger. "I couldn't buckle, couldn't grieve, couldn't afford to give an inch. I held him together! For you, for me, for us, to keep your memory alive, James. I did everything. I got the jobs, I did the forges, I stalked, I killed, I stole. Everyone that fucked with us is gone. They drowned in their own blood, and there is no way to trace it back to us."
"Fuck," Bucky said, pacing back and forth in an agitated manner. "I didn't know."
"I know," Natasha said gently. "I couldn't tell Steve. He couldn't handle it."
"No, he couldn't," he agreed, a crooked smile on his face. "He was the bright star between us, the one with hope and innocence."
Natasha snorted. "Not that innocent."
Bucky laughed, a bright and cheerful sound that she hadn't heard in a long time. It made her gut clench with pain; grief spiked sharp and horrible in her chest, and she surged forward to grasp his shirt. "James," she began, her voice breaking.
"We were the darker parts of him," Bucky said, grabbing hold of her arms. He lifted her up and spun her around, until her back slammed into the wall. "You, who could do everything, and me, who would do anything to keep him happy. He never had to do the seedy shit, because we did it for him, we kept him shining and beautiful."
"My hands are washed in blood," Natasha whispered, "especially now. If it was a ledger, it would be gushing, dripping red. There's no way to make up for the evil I've done."
"Maybe we don't deserve forgiveness," Bucky replied, leaning in to kiss her. "Maybe people like us belong in the dark, only glimpsing the light."
She was consumed in his kiss. "Or maybe we have to make our own light where we can."
With the fluidity of dreams, their clothes were ripped off and tossed everywhere, their mouths still fused together in a kiss that threatened to consume her soul. This was Bucky, no, James, her James, the one that could be so tender and dorky at the same time he was fucking her right up against the wall. And then he was spinning her around, so that her bare back was against the wall, textured wallpaper pressing into her skin. He hoisted her up effortlessly, fingers biting into the flesh of her thighs, and she reached down between their bodies to help guide his erect cock into her wet sheath. He slid home, making her gasp at the flash of pure pleasure that shot through her. "Oh my god, it's been so long, James."
"Yes, it has."
"If you'd done this instead of killing me..."
"Didn't know I could," he growled.
Then there was his mouth over hers as he drove into her relentlessly, driving the pleasure through her, a hot bolt that she could feel deep inside her body. She shivered and writhed, her own fingers pulling him closer, as if his deeper thrusts weren't deep enough, as if he could melt into her skin and drive her wild from the inside out. Even when she was coming, he kept going. Another few thrusts, then he picked her up and walked backward unerringly toward the bed.
"I love you, James Buchanan Barnes," she said tenderly, her arms still wrapped around him. "You're a good man. You were a good man."
"Not really, but then, you always understood that."
As they kissed, he swept her around and pressed her into the bed with the fluidity of a dream. He was still rock hard inside her, and he fucked the way she remembered. It was hard and fast and filthy as hell, his voice wrapping itself around her.
The door to the room banged open until it hit the wall. "What the fuck?"
Natasha tilted her head to the side and saw Steve, jaw fallen open in shock. His cheeks carried a slight flush, as if he had run a marathon to find them, sweat at his hairline and tight T shirt clinging to his chest and abs almost obscenely. He wore jeans and a shoulder holster in plain sight; perhaps some of Loki's projections prowled the dreamscape.
"I found James. Join us," Natasha said, just as if this was celebratory sex after a job. God, it hurt to hear her own voice, to see the confusion and shock and want in Steve's eyes. They had fucked and made love and given each other solace a year ago, before she had to walk away for her own sanity, but it hadn't been the same. Something had been missing.
Someone had been missing.
As if in a dream - haha, the irony was not lost on her - Steve came forward. The door shut behind him, lock clicking into place. His hands shook, his blue eyes fixed on Bucky. He grasped Steve by the shirtfront, pulling him even closer and then kissing him as if his life depended on it, as if Steve was the only source of water in a desert, as if everything would splinter apart without him. Considering Bucky was a projection, yes it would.
Natasha reached over and rubbed Steve's growing erection through his clothes. "Get rid of those, Rogers," she purred. His cock jerked under her touch, a low whine in his throat.
His clothes disappeared and she pulled at his hip to get him clambering up onto the bed. At her annoyed tap on Bucky's chest, their kiss broke off. "Position change, Barnes," she barked. Both perked up at the command, just like the old days, and it hurt in a good way to see it again. Oh, how she missed this, how she sobbed herself to sleep with her hand between her legs, a poor substitute for their glory days.
Kneeling on the bed, she perched on hands and knees as Bucky took her from behind. Then she pulled Steve into position so that she could take his thick cock into her mouth as he knelt in front of her. That left his mouth free to kiss Bucky.
She remembered cradling Steve in her arms, his touch tender and sweet, his body rocking into hers. She remembered how he made love to her, then Bucky's hand coming to slide down Steve's spine until he came down to the cleft of his ass. Steve's rhythm always stuttered when Bucky's fingers worked him open; he was always surprised by the cold lube and warm fingers, by the fullness and stretch, the spark of pleasure that became a slow burn. The three of them, in concert, rhythm perfected with practice, whatever combinations they could think of, even if they openly mocked all the threesome porn they could find on the internet.
This time, with the fluidity of dreams, they shifted so that Steve on his back and Natasha could climb up on top of him. Sinking down over his cock was blissfully pleasurable, something that had her sighing in contentment. "Mmmm. God, I missed this," Steve murmured, reaching up to caress her breasts. "I missed you. I missed us."
Bucky took up the bottle of lube that appeared beside them on the bed, grinning at him just the way he used to. "Of course you did, pal. And I'm gonna fuck you like I fucked Tash, and it's going to leave you speechless."
He groaned, loving the dirty talk, and arched up a little as Natasha began to ride him. Bucky slid his hand along her spine, pitching her forward with a gentle shove. As that happened, a pillow formed beneath Steve's hips, tilting them up and opening his legs. Natasha fell forward and braced herself on her hands, placing them on either side of Steve's head. He had one hand fondling a breast, the other at her hip, pulling her in as she pushed herself down on his cock. As usual, he jerked a little when Bucky slid slicked fingers along his ass. "Idiot," Natasha told him with a grin. She turned behind her to look at Bucky's satisfied expression. "Quit jerking his chain and fuck him already. Give it to him good."
"Yes, ma'am," Bucky replied, that lazy and self satisfied grin on his face. He even saluted her, the punk. But he scissored his fingers inside of Steve's ass, making him grab Natasha tight as he cried out. "Come on, Stevie. Come," Bucky said, twisting and curling his fingers.
It was a dream, there was no such thing as a refractory period if you knew how to manipulate the conditions of the dream. They did, and had fucked each other in dreams before. So Steve could spill himself inside of Natasha and still thrust up into her, not softening at all. And he could cry out as Bucky slid his cock inside of his ass, the stretch and burn and pleasure pushing him past limits he thought he had.
"Fuck," Steve groaned, eyes squeezed tight and head thrown back into the pillow.
"That's the idea, genius," Bucky snarked.
Natasha clenched her inner muscles and made a crooning sound as Bucky slid a hand around her hip to find her clit. She shifted back a little, her back flush against Bucky's chest, and the two of them worked out a see-sawing rhythm that made Steve cry out and arch beneath them, coming again with a shout. Yet still they continued, moving with a desperate intensity.
Collapsing into a boneless heap after a few more orgasms - Was it two? Three? More? Who cared anyway? - the trio was nothing more than a tangle of limbs and bare skin. It didn't matter who was stroked and cradled and nuzzled, not the way their relationship used to be. It was comfort now, coming down off the high, a sweet buzz in their veins.
And it was bittersweet, grief and love and adoration and desperation all together.
Finally, Natasha slid from the bed, smiling gently at the two men still sprawled there. She laid a finger over Steve's lips. "Say goodbye, Steve." Leaning over them, she kissed Bucky's shoulder and then Steve's forehead. "I already have a thousand times, but it was good to do it again."
She slipped her feet into the Louboutins that she kicked off earlier. As she did, her dress was on her body like a second skin again, hiding the slick slide of come between her thighs. Natasha didn't want to get rid of that reminder, and no one else had to know. Her hair was perfectly coiffed with the jeweled pins back in place. Ah, dream share. She looked over her shoulder at the two men, a confident smirk on her face. "Now I have to go save the job. Again."
"She always did impress me," Bucky told Steve with an admiring smile, his hand coming to rest on Steve's waist.
"I know," Natasha replied, turning around with a little flounce to her step.
Just like the old days.
This time, she welcomed the burn of grief and loss as she walked through the door.
***
Natasha made her way up through the kicks easily, and was grateful to see Clint on the first level with Loki and Steve still attached to the PASIV. She could tell he had waited for her, unable to leave the dream without her. "Hey," she said, smiling as she sat up.
"Steve okay?"
"Yeah. I think he'll be okay. It's being worked out, and he'll wake up."
Clint's mouth worked for a moment, taking in her calm reassurance, and his expression shifted a little. "He insisted on going to look for you. Having Bucky around was his fault, and I kind of wasn't in any position to stop him," Clint admitted, defeat in his tone. "How many times haven't I been good enough to get to you-"
"Don't," Natasha whispered, taking his face in her hands. "Don't do that to yourself."
"I wasn't there when you needed me."
"Wake up, Clint. You're always there when I need you, in the dream or waking up. You took that bullet for me on that level down there. You shifted roles in this thing. And... You've been waiting for me forever to make up my damn mind, to stop being so many different people. I think you'd wait forever if I was cruel enough to do it."
"You're not making me do anything," he protested, catching her hands in his. "I love you."
It felt right this time around, though Natasha couldn't have said why. Maybe because she was letting go of James, of the guilt she had felt herself. Because she could give Steve time, because she let him know indirectly that she had done all she could to keep him safe, and keep James' memory protected.
Maybe because this time, she was truly ready to move on.
"I love you, Clint Barton. Let's get out of here, eat fancy food, drink expensive booze, then go to our hotel room and have fantastic sex."
He laughed and kissed her, his arms closing tight around her. She held his gaze, walking backward toward the open elevator shaft behind them. "I love you," she whispered again, reveling in the feel of the words before they tipped over the edge.
They fell-
-and then woke up at the party. Jane had done her due diligence, and was unhooking everyone as they woke, making sure that Pepper kept a close watch over Loki's sedation levels. "That just leaves..." Jane began, looking over at Steve and Loki.
"He'll wake up," Natasha told her confidently.
It took another few anxious minutes, but Steve finally woke up, a content expression on his face when he sat up. "We did it," he murmured to Jane as she removed the needles from his wrist. He looked over at Thor, taking in his nod of acceptance. "Now we can really enjoy that party, huh?"
They all filtered back into the party, and Natasha caught sight of Loki when he emerged into the main area. He looked tired, perhaps. Maybe groggy. Bypassing the alcohol, he moved around the room to check on guests. That helped him eventually get his usual alertness level back, and the movement also helped his body metabolize the last of the sedatives. Perfect.
"Natalie," Loki murmured, eventually trying to catch her attention. She was of course hyperalert to his presence, to try to see if the inception took, if he was any different than before. Of all the players in this little three act play, she was the best equipped to recognize it.
"Loki," she said, turning around to face him. She carried two glasses of champagne in her hands, and had a polite smile on her face. His gaze swept over her, not exactly possessive, not like before, but with a tender familiarity. On some level, he remembered pieces of the dream. "How can I help you? I thought I was off the clock?"
"What? Oh, yes. Yes, you are. This isn't for the company. It's... I would like to have dinner with you. Surely you aren't leaving Paris just yet?"
Natasha heard the question he wasn't asking in the gentle tone of voice. Oh yes, he was a changed man, all right. Gone was the arrogant swagger in his stance and haughty tenor as he spoke with others. "Why are you asking?"
"I'm sure my brother can extend the contract with Odin Corporation," Loki began. "If you feel my doing so would be a conflict of interest."
Brother.
Glory, hallelujah, it worked.
Of course it did, they all bent over backward and nearly died to make sure it did. Natasha didn't have to fake anything to flash him a brilliant smile, and Loki visibly reacted to it much as he had in the dream. Poor man. He would forever chase it as well.
"It wouldn't be, but I can't stay in Paris." She let her gaze settle on Clint, who she unerringly found in the crowd. "I have other plans."
Loki's gaze followed hers, and she heard the way his breath caught. "You have a lover."
"I'm not sure what to call him, to be honest," she replied easily and honestly. This honesty thing was something else. She should try it out more often with the subjects. They responded so well to it, and she didn't have to juggle too many different details at once. "He's been waiting on me to make up my mind about what I want. I still haven't figured it out, and he's okay with that. He's been waiting a long time, and if I never do, he'll still be here with me."
"That's why you do locum tenens work," Loki said with a sighing breath.
"I hope someday I figure it out. He deserves all of me, not just the fragments that are safe with him." She had the brilliant smile at Loki again. "He's a good man."
"I would hope so. If not... find me. I'll take care of him." At her raised eyebrow, he looked away, a little embarrassed. "I may harbor some feelings for you, Natalie. I feel like I know you. The way you move, your adoptive family, your-"
"I'm not adopted," Natasha interrupted, hoping to make a clear break between reality and the dream he had just woken from. That threw him a little, and she toned down her smile to one of social politeness. "I wonder why you thought I was."
The embarrassment was worse now, and she hoped she didn't trigger some kind of rage born of wounded pride. "I suppose I dreamed it. I dreamed of you a lot lately."
Natasha put the glasses down and touched his arm gently. "I'm flattered, I am. But there's not much to me, Loki. And I'm very happily taken. But I do hope you find someone that values you for who you are. All of you, good and bad, and makes you happy."
Loki looked at her, nodding. "Thank you. And I wish you luck with your lover."
She stepped away from Clint, who caught her eyes. He returned her smile once she grinned brightly at him, retrieving the glasses of champagne. "Thank you. You and your brother take care, Loki. I did enjoy working on this job. It made all the difficult parts worth it."
He might not have understood the nuance in her words, but he nodded and bid her farewell anyway. She made her way to Clint's side and handed him the drink. She could see Steve and Thor talking, his entire body language relaxed and open for the first time in the months they had been working together. Tony and Pepper were talking with Bruce and Jane, all looking friendly and calm. "I think they'll all be okay."
Clint chugged the champagne quickly, as if it wasn't ridiculously expensive and classy, then put the glass aside. "Yeah. I think we'll all be okay now." He waited for her to finish her glass and then extended his arm in a gallant manner. "May I have this dance?"
Natasha smiled warmly at him, accepting his arm. "Forever, Clint, absolutely."
The End