[Marvel]: Five Times Kissed
Title: Five Times Kissed
Author:
grey_gazania
Rating: PG
Characters: Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanov
Word Count: 1,150
Warnings: None
I
The soldier had been drilling the girl in the same sequence for close to two hours now. It was giving Natalia an uncharacteristic amount of trouble, but the soldier didn’t realize how frustrated the girl was until, after being knocked to the ground yet again, she began to cry. She tried to hide it, holding her arm over her eyes and swallowing back her sniffles, but the tears leaked out anyway.
The soldier knelt down beside her, wiping a tear from Natalia’s cheek, and slipped a hand beneath her chin to tilt her head up. “I know this is a difficult exercise, but listen to me, Natalia,” he said, looking her in the eyes. “No matter how hard things are, you always, always get back up.”
Someone had said that, once. Someone. It was one of the American’s memories, the soldier supposed, and so he should have reported it to Dr. Mikhailovich, but he never had. A small rebellion, really, but that tiny nugget of wisdom had often kept him going far beyond what the General thought he could endure.
He offered Natalia a hand and smiled when the girl pushed herself to her feet without it, the familiar stubborn set returning to her chin. On impulse, the soldier pressed a light kiss to the top of her head. “Good girl,” he said. “Now. Try it again.”
II
The Black Widow was beautiful and cunning and deadly, all roses and creeping briars and too-wise eyes. The soldier respected her. He took a measure of pride in the woman’s skill. He even, privately, cared for her. But he had never imagined that this might happen.
They were on a mission in Omsk, holed up in a filthy hotel with only each other and the roaches for company. Natalia had returned from a food run, shrugged out of her coat, and was changing into clothes more suitable for sleep. And the soldier could not force himself to look away.
“What is it?” Natalia asked.
I want to kiss you, the soldier thought. But he did not - could not - say it aloud. Desire was not a luxury that he had ever been granted.
Natalia, though, with her mind like a scalpel - Natalia must have read it in his face, for she stood on her toes, graceful as the ballerina she’d never been, and pressed her lips to the soldier’s own. Her mouth was warm and soft, and the soldier’s lips parted on instinct. But he pulled away after a few breathless moments.
“Natalia-”
“Shh,” Natalia said, pressing a finger against the soldier’s lips. “I need to know - do you want this?”
Did he want this? Yes. Yes, he wanted it, wanted Natalia’s lips on his, his arms around Natalia’s waist and her hands against his skin. But if they were caught-
The punishment that would crash down upon them would be terrible to behold.
Still, the word escaped before he could bite down on it. “Yes,” he breathed. “Yes, I want this.” He met Natalia’s eyes, beautiful and sun-flecked, and forced himself to ask the same. “You,” he whispered, “do you…want…”
“Yes,” Natalia said. The soldier pressed a kiss to the pulse in Natalia’s neck, Natalia dropped her hands to the soldier’s hips, and they melted together like butter, like snow, like chocolate left too long in the sun.
III
It was still dark when the soldier slipped out of bed and began dressing. He was whisper-silent, but Natalia stirred anyway. “Don’t go,” she murmured, rolling over and stretching her hand out towards her lover.
“I have to,” the soldier said softly. “You know that. If we’re caught-” He yanked his shirt over his head. “Besides, I leave for Poland tonight. I have to spend the day in prep.”
Natalia frowned, but nodded. “I know,” she agreed. “But I wish you could stay.”
“As do I,” the soldier said, perching on the edge of the bed. Or leave, he thought. I wish we could run, leave all this behind, start fresh somewhere. But they couldn’t, and neither of them was stupid enough to attempt it. So he contented himself with leaning over and pressing his mouth to Natalia’s in a slow, warm kiss.
“Stick to the shadows,” Natalia said when they finally broke apart. “And be careful.”
“I will,” said the soldier. “Whip Bullski into shape for me,” he added, and Natalia smiled like a knife blade.
“Oh, trust me, I will,” she said. “He won’t know what hit him.”
The soldier returned her grin and then slipped out the window into the dark.
IV
“How do you tell which memories are real?” Barnes asked one night, lying beside Natalia in the back of their stolen van. He would have preferred to be outside; the constellations hadn’t changed since the 20th Century, even if everything else had, and he took more comfort in that than was warranted. But it was safer inside. So he stared up at the dark ceiling instead and said, “I remember- Just moments. Little flashes. But they’re slippery. They slide back and forth and I can’t get them to fit. I don’t think they’re all real, but how do I know?”
“What do you remember?” Natalia asked. “If it’s from the Soviets… Maybe I was there.”
Barnes was silent for a long, long time, the seconds stretching out fragile as blown glass. “I remember you,” he finally said. “Training you. Missions with you.” He shifted onto his side and scrubbed his hand over his eyes. “Kissing you,” he added, barely audible. “Was that real?”
He felt Natalia move beside him, pushing herself up onto one arm, but he wasn’t prepared for Natalia’s lips on his.
“Yes,” Natalia whispered. “That was real.”
V
Natasha was sprawled out in the sun beside Stark’s pool, her cherry dark bikini complementing her hair and giving lie to the claims she’d made to Steve years ago. She leaned back in the pool chair, sunglasses and a floppy straw hat shading her face, and sighed luxuriously.
“If anyone decides to invade New York today, I will kill them,” she said, quirking a half-smile at Bucky. “I have no plans to move for at least another hour.”
Bucky laughed, but his eyes were drawn, like always, to the scar that adorned his lover’s stomach. The scar that he had put there. A sudden impulse gripped him and he left her own chair to kneel beside Natasha’s, brushing a kiss across the scar, half apology and half reverence.
“What’s that for?” Natasha asked, brushing her hand through Bucky’s hair.
“You,” Bucky said, smiling up at her. “You’re amazing, you know that?”
“I do,” she said, tossing her head and crossing her ankles, and Bucky laughed. “Now,” Natasha said, “how about you put some sunblock on my shoulders, hmm?”
“Yes ma'am,” Bucky said, laughing again. He kissed Natasha’s stomach once more and then stood to fetch the sunscreen, his smile bright as the sky.
This entry was originally posted at http://grey-gazania.dreamwidth.org/502245.html. Please comment there.
Author:
grey_gazania
Rating: PG
Characters: Bucky Barnes, Natasha Romanov
Word Count: 1,150
Warnings: None
I
The soldier had been drilling the girl in the same sequence for close to two hours now. It was giving Natalia an uncharacteristic amount of trouble, but the soldier didn’t realize how frustrated the girl was until, after being knocked to the ground yet again, she began to cry. She tried to hide it, holding her arm over her eyes and swallowing back her sniffles, but the tears leaked out anyway.
The soldier knelt down beside her, wiping a tear from Natalia’s cheek, and slipped a hand beneath her chin to tilt her head up. “I know this is a difficult exercise, but listen to me, Natalia,” he said, looking her in the eyes. “No matter how hard things are, you always, always get back up.”
Someone had said that, once. Someone. It was one of the American’s memories, the soldier supposed, and so he should have reported it to Dr. Mikhailovich, but he never had. A small rebellion, really, but that tiny nugget of wisdom had often kept him going far beyond what the General thought he could endure.
He offered Natalia a hand and smiled when the girl pushed herself to her feet without it, the familiar stubborn set returning to her chin. On impulse, the soldier pressed a light kiss to the top of her head. “Good girl,” he said. “Now. Try it again.”
II
The Black Widow was beautiful and cunning and deadly, all roses and creeping briars and too-wise eyes. The soldier respected her. He took a measure of pride in the woman’s skill. He even, privately, cared for her. But he had never imagined that this might happen.
They were on a mission in Omsk, holed up in a filthy hotel with only each other and the roaches for company. Natalia had returned from a food run, shrugged out of her coat, and was changing into clothes more suitable for sleep. And the soldier could not force himself to look away.
“What is it?” Natalia asked.
I want to kiss you, the soldier thought. But he did not - could not - say it aloud. Desire was not a luxury that he had ever been granted.
Natalia, though, with her mind like a scalpel - Natalia must have read it in his face, for she stood on her toes, graceful as the ballerina she’d never been, and pressed her lips to the soldier’s own. Her mouth was warm and soft, and the soldier’s lips parted on instinct. But he pulled away after a few breathless moments.
“Natalia-”
“Shh,” Natalia said, pressing a finger against the soldier’s lips. “I need to know - do you want this?”
Did he want this? Yes. Yes, he wanted it, wanted Natalia’s lips on his, his arms around Natalia’s waist and her hands against his skin. But if they were caught-
The punishment that would crash down upon them would be terrible to behold.
Still, the word escaped before he could bite down on it. “Yes,” he breathed. “Yes, I want this.” He met Natalia’s eyes, beautiful and sun-flecked, and forced himself to ask the same. “You,” he whispered, “do you…want…”
“Yes,” Natalia said. The soldier pressed a kiss to the pulse in Natalia’s neck, Natalia dropped her hands to the soldier’s hips, and they melted together like butter, like snow, like chocolate left too long in the sun.
III
It was still dark when the soldier slipped out of bed and began dressing. He was whisper-silent, but Natalia stirred anyway. “Don’t go,” she murmured, rolling over and stretching her hand out towards her lover.
“I have to,” the soldier said softly. “You know that. If we’re caught-” He yanked his shirt over his head. “Besides, I leave for Poland tonight. I have to spend the day in prep.”
Natalia frowned, but nodded. “I know,” she agreed. “But I wish you could stay.”
“As do I,” the soldier said, perching on the edge of the bed. Or leave, he thought. I wish we could run, leave all this behind, start fresh somewhere. But they couldn’t, and neither of them was stupid enough to attempt it. So he contented himself with leaning over and pressing his mouth to Natalia’s in a slow, warm kiss.
“Stick to the shadows,” Natalia said when they finally broke apart. “And be careful.”
“I will,” said the soldier. “Whip Bullski into shape for me,” he added, and Natalia smiled like a knife blade.
“Oh, trust me, I will,” she said. “He won’t know what hit him.”
The soldier returned her grin and then slipped out the window into the dark.
IV
“How do you tell which memories are real?” Barnes asked one night, lying beside Natalia in the back of their stolen van. He would have preferred to be outside; the constellations hadn’t changed since the 20th Century, even if everything else had, and he took more comfort in that than was warranted. But it was safer inside. So he stared up at the dark ceiling instead and said, “I remember- Just moments. Little flashes. But they’re slippery. They slide back and forth and I can’t get them to fit. I don’t think they’re all real, but how do I know?”
“What do you remember?” Natalia asked. “If it’s from the Soviets… Maybe I was there.”
Barnes was silent for a long, long time, the seconds stretching out fragile as blown glass. “I remember you,” he finally said. “Training you. Missions with you.” He shifted onto his side and scrubbed his hand over his eyes. “Kissing you,” he added, barely audible. “Was that real?”
He felt Natalia move beside him, pushing herself up onto one arm, but he wasn’t prepared for Natalia’s lips on his.
“Yes,” Natalia whispered. “That was real.”
V
Natasha was sprawled out in the sun beside Stark’s pool, her cherry dark bikini complementing her hair and giving lie to the claims she’d made to Steve years ago. She leaned back in the pool chair, sunglasses and a floppy straw hat shading her face, and sighed luxuriously.
“If anyone decides to invade New York today, I will kill them,” she said, quirking a half-smile at Bucky. “I have no plans to move for at least another hour.”
Bucky laughed, but his eyes were drawn, like always, to the scar that adorned his lover’s stomach. The scar that he had put there. A sudden impulse gripped him and he left her own chair to kneel beside Natasha’s, brushing a kiss across the scar, half apology and half reverence.
“What’s that for?” Natasha asked, brushing her hand through Bucky’s hair.
“You,” Bucky said, smiling up at her. “You’re amazing, you know that?”
“I do,” she said, tossing her head and crossing her ankles, and Bucky laughed. “Now,” Natasha said, “how about you put some sunblock on my shoulders, hmm?”
“Yes ma'am,” Bucky said, laughing again. He kissed Natasha’s stomach once more and then stood to fetch the sunscreen, his smile bright as the sky.
This entry was originally posted at http://grey-gazania.dreamwidth.org/502245.html. Please comment there.