Defending the Shadows, 3/5. NC-17.
Title: Defending The Shadows
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Natasha/Bucky
Disclaimer: Not mine! Some comic backstory is incorporated into characterizations, but this is still primarily based off of the movieverse.
Spoilers/Warnings: AU to the MCU. Inspired by this gifset on Tumblr. Warning for mentions of suicide, violence and mayhem in line with various vampire myths where they don't sparkle.
Summary: In the years since a virus turned some of the infected dead into vampires, hunters rose and formed groups to protect the living. It kept the vampire numbers lower than they would have been otherwise, but they were still far too dangerous. Natasha Romanoff, newly transferred to New York City, knew all this. But some of her beliefs were about to change.
Prior chapters:
One - The City That Never Sleeps
Two - Naming A Shadow
Chapter Three - Making Contact
It wasn't difficult to give Bucky the phone to make contact easier. Over the next few weeks, he even answered all of Bruce's texted questions in enough detail to make him happy. He even went into excruciatingly personal details, such as the fact that he was still capable of sexual arousal and possibly even intercourse, though he had no opportunity for such a thing. Bruce didn't ask if he was willing to masturbate For Science, thankfully. Natasha found that line of questioning to be embarrassing and crude, and saw no point to it. When Bruce realized how uncomfortable Natasha was in seeing the text transcripts, he explained that it was to rule out the possibility that the vampire virus was actually sexually transmitted. Many blood borne viruses were, after all.
That made Natasha feel marginally better. She wasn't exactly sure why she cared; she wasn't and couldn't ever be interested in Bucky that way. He was a vampire and she was a hunter, for God's sake. While the flirting was kind of fun, there was nothing that could come of it.
Now if only she could convince Bucky of that.
He went with her on her rounds, which she found highly annoying. "Because I'm a woman?" she snarled, tactical knife in hand.
Shaking his head, Bucky shot her a sidelong glance. "Because how else can I talk to you? I can't talk to Steve like this, I don't want Clint to be suspicious, the new girl doesn't do it for me, and I'm not interested in getting to know the others."
Natasha wasn't pleased that he was so dismissive of Sharon Carter, newly added to the team. Janet Van Dyne hadn't been quite ready to return, but was considering it. James Rhodes was permanently on loan, as was his girlfriend Carol Danvers. The couple hadn't been out on patrol yet, as they were still settling into the tower and figuring out clearance levels for everyone they interacted with. Natasha took that to mean the US Air Force was experimenting on something.
"Why do you latch onto me so hard?" she asked, irritated.
"If I said it was your red hair?"
"I'll dye it black."
"The name Natasha?"
"Madame Natasha to you."
Bucky laughed, still charmed. "You amaze me, Natasha."
"With all you've seen? Your standards must be low."
"On the contrary," he disagreed. "They're pretty damn high. You're amazing, and you make me feel human again."
She stilled. "What are you talking about?"
"It's... The urges. To be a vampire. It's like voice in the back of my head, constantly wanting me to kill, to be a feeding machine. And you... quiet them. They're gone, essentially. If don't feel so out of control around you."
"You said I smell delicious."
"Well, you do."
"How is that quieting the voices in your head?"
"Don't know. I don't question that kind of thing. It's not pheromones, because even the thought of you can keep me pretty calm and focused." His eyes twinkled. "I can't wait to see how I react when we kiss. Or more."
Natasha shook her head and sidestepped him. "That can't happen, Bucky. You know that."
"Oh? And why is that? I won't infect you. I won't give you the virus, no matter what we do."
"You're so certain of that?"
"You are so determined that this won't work. Romeo and Juliet-"
"Died. It was a crush that destroyed them and their families."
Bucky fell silent for a moment. "Or are you just afraid to feel anything? Afraid to lose something important or potentially important, so you just refuse to feel it in the first place?"
Waiting until he was done, she leveled a cold expression at him. "Are you done?"
"No. I won't give up on you, even if you already have."
"I'm a hunter."
"I'm aware of that."
"Even if I don't kill you, someone will."
"I've survived this long without you, Natasha," Bucky chided her gently. "I can deal with the voices alone if I have to, but why would I want to? I didn't ask for this. I didn't want this. But I'm making the most of a terrible situation I'm in. I'm not so afraid of losing something wonderful that I won't try for it in the first place."
Natasha sighed, refusing to feel any tenderness. That would leave her vulnerable, open to attack, and she couldn't allow that. "Loss is devastating."
"I know," Bucky said softly.
"How could you?" she snapped.
"Because I lost everything from my old life when this happened to me. Because this now is all I'll ever have. If I have to, I'll bear all the hurt. I'll hold it for you if you can't."
"It's not a contest to see who hurts more," Natasha snapped.
"Isn't it?" he challenged. "Everything approaching serious emotional connection has you running and accusing me of terrible things. You still wear your grief, same as me, but the others don't know you well enough to see it, do they? So you hide behind our grief and your pain, and tell yourself you can't have anything good ever again."
Natasha gasped when Bucky spun her around, pinning her against a wall and then devoured her mouth in a kiss. His frustration and desire were there, his need for her and the tie between them. And as much as Natasha had told herself not to respond to him, she found herself doing it anyway. It wasn't because of memories of Nicholai or Alexei, it wasn't because of childish dreams or lustful moments reading erotica with vampires in it. It wasn't because she thought she could somehow change him. It was feeling what he did, a connection that she hadn't wanted to recognize and kept telling herself shouldn't happen.
"You can have a good thing, Natasha," Bucky murmured. "If it's not me, it's not me. But don't close yourself off to the possibility."
"You think it's you."
"Of course." He grinned at her, then picked her up in his arms, bringing her up to his height. "But if you honestly want me to stop, tell me."
She had her arms around his shoulders for balance, and now moved one so that she could trace the angles of his face, the curve of his lips, the edge of a fang. His eyes seemed to have a preternatural glow to them, but he was still and didn't try to attack her. How many baby vamps went on rampages simply because they could, because they thought they should?
Natasha's lips parted as she cut her finger on the tip of Bucky's fang, and she watched his eyes darken. It was lust for blood and for her, but still he didn't lunge for her. Bucky had been an exceedingly honorable man in life, and it seemed that death hadn't changed that about him.
"You can suck on my finger," Natasha whispered, her voice no more than a rasp.
His tongue curled around the pad of her finger, a light and gentle touch. The soft caress of his tongue sent a shiver through her, and his licks were soft on her skin. How would it feel against her throat? A breast? Her stomach? Lower?
Bucky's lips curled into a smile before he drew her finger further into his mouth. Natasha could feel the warmth of a blush in her cheeks and desire pooling in her belly, low and warm, a rising ache she hadn't felt in a long time. He could smell her arousal, the smug bastard, but her heart raced and she couldn't help the sense of excitement and longing rising in her chest.
"Maybe," she rasped softly, "I need to test things out. See if your theory is as full of shit as you are or not."
He laughed and kissed her, soft and slow, tongue in her mouth. There was a soft tingle at her cut finger, so she pulled back to look at it.
There was no cut.
"I'm healed."
"Yeah. Vampire saliva has some healing properties for that kind of thing, I guess." He shrugged, unconcerned. "I never had opportunity to test it, but I've heard that."
"Have you told Bruce?"
"Um... Didn't think of it before."
"You should."
"He'll want to collect samples, I'm sure."
"Not that you've submitted any yet," Natasha pointed out. At his lofted eyebrow, she smiled wryly. "Bruce may have asked me to get him samples."
"I'll give you whatever you ask for."
"For what price? A kiss? More?"
"Just because you ask," he replied softly, letting her back to her feet. "Because you and your friends want my help."
She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down for a kiss that left them both breathless with need. "Thank you. On Bruce's behalf."
"I'm very open to such expressions of thanks," he replied, grinning impishly at her.
Natasha kissed him again. "Then let's get started."
***
Bruce looked at Natasha in confusion. "You got blood, saliva and tissue samples for me. Without any silver contamination."
"Our contact supplied them. If he can, he'll get some from other vampires so you can look for commonalities and differences."
He blinked. "That's thoughtful. And exactly what I'd need. I've been making do with what we could get for so long, I'm not used to getting what I actually need."
Natasha smiled gently at him. "Maybe you should make a wish list of what you want to study. Maybe he can get it for you."
"I wonder why the saliva, though."
"Healing properties," Natasha responded. She found herself rubbing her finger as Bruce's eyes widened in surprise. "It can heal damage from vampire fangs. Don't know about anything else, though. And doesn't cause infection."
"Interesting," Bruce breathed, sounding impressed. And it was, really. Could the enzymes be used to help them heal wounds? Were there ways to commercialize it, perhaps? There were so many potential ways to research this.
"So I'll pass along the list," Natasha told him. "The Winter Soldier might not be able to get all of it, but I'm sure he'll keep an eye out. And we can set up a drop box of some kind so you can get it without any risk to your safety."
Bruce gave a soft huff of uncomfortable laughter. "Yeah, well, in case you haven't noticed, this entire line of research can potentially compromise my safety."
Natasha blanched. "I never thought of that."
"It's okay. Most don't."
"Don't put yourself at risk, okay? No experimenting on yourself."
He laughed at that. "People do it, sure. And wind up doing horrible things to themselves as a result. No, Natasha, I'll be fine, I promise."
His voice curled around her given name pleasantly, much as it did most of the time he spoke with her. It would be easier on her if there was an attraction there, if she wanted to kiss him or date him. Hell, Barton or Rogers would be easier to deal with than this dangerous attraction to Bucky. But no, she never did things the easy way, so why should her romantic and sex drives have to differ?
She smiled as if she couldn't tell he was interested. If he wasn't going to push or go after her, she wasn't going to make it easy on him. He knew what she did for a living, knew the kind of dangers that it brought. She couldn't afford to wait forever; she already knew she couldn't have it. She would someday die in the field, most likely. If any vampire tried to convert her, she'd walk into the sun rather than kill innocents.
Though Bucky's way of dealing with it wasn't such a bad option.
Natasha made her way out of the labs to talk with others about setting up the drop box for biohazard material Bruce would experiment on. As expected, Clint and Steve looked ill, Tony rubbed his hands with glee, and the rest looked vaguely appalled. "I'd rather just kill them all and be done with it," Carol admitted.
"You'd punch a dinosaur in the face if you could," Rhodey laughed, slinging an arm around her shoulders and kissing her cheek. "But this Soldier guy, he's trying to help."
"Makes you think twice about calling them all monsters, maybe," Pepper murmured. "How many innocents were turned against their will?"
"And how many begged for it?" Clint countered. "How many saw it as an excuse to be evil, to live forever on the backs of others, to see the rest of humanity as cattle?" He shrugged. "It goes both ways, you know."
"They're not better than anyone else, in other words," Steve said, resignation in his tone. "Just people. The virus brings out whatever was there, amplifying it. A bad person becomes evil, a good one becomes great."
Natasha thought of Bucky, of what she knew of him in stories and then the reality of him as a vampire. "Is there maybe a way to turn them back? The ones that want to? Reverse the virus, make them human again?"
The room fell silent. "That... sounds tricky," Tony said, breaking the stunned silence. "I mean, there's the possibility of vampirism not taking. Or doing horrible mutations, right? What if this new virus is the same? It might kill them, might not reverse the mutations, might make them even worse than before..."
"It's conjecture, anyway," Steve said dismissively.
"Though if Bruce could make one," Carol murmured, "I'm sure some would volunteer to test it, even at the risk of death. There's always risk involved in life. And even in death, now."
"You're talking about vampires having rights, then," Rhodey said. "So would they own property? Vote? Serve in armies? Have state-sanctioned blood bank access?"
"Maybe there would be research into blood substitutes," Tony said with a shrug. "If they're people, like a subset of people, they'd be something like homo sapiens vampiris, and have to have some way to do ordinary human stuff. It would be complicated. Washington would love it."
"Only if the people did," Steve murmured. "But we've all lost so much to this virus, I don't think they'd be so willing to let it go."
"You'd be surprised," Natasha murmured, shaking her head and feeling vaguely guilty about not telling Steve that the Winter Soldier was Bucky. "People want comfort. Illusions. The idea of safety and freedom."
"But freedom isn't free," Steve replied. "The cost of freedom is high. I'm prepared to pay it, and I'm sure I'm not the only one."
"How many know the true cost?" Carol asked quietly. "The sacrifice involved? If they did..."
"There are always those that would," Rhodey murmured, kissing her temple. "Look at us. The military isn't a cakewalk, hon. We knew that, knew what it meant. What we're talking about is no different, really."
"Wow, this got very philosophical," Pepper observed when the others fell silent.
"It's a tough call," Natasha murmured. "There's no right answer, no wrong answer. We can debate ethics, what's death or life, what rights do vampires get, whatever. But if this is reversible, that's a whole separate argument. I don't know about you guys, but my personal set of ethics are already pretty gray as it is. I mean, I'm working with a vampire! I'm supposed to kill them all."
"You don't want to like him," Pepper mentioned. "I get how that is," she added, eyes flicking toward Tony.
"It would be easier if I didn't," Natasha agreed. No need to clarify how she liked him, right? Right.
"C'mon," Clint replied, getting up. "Let's go find some you're not friends with and kick ass."
"Sounds like a plan to me," Natasha said with a grin, eagerly getting to her feet.
Clint rubbed his hands together. "I have some new arrowheads I want to test out."
"You are such a geek," Natasha told him fondly.
"Says the one that giggles with joy at getting new silver bullets or knives."
"They're practical," she said defensively.
He laughed. "We're the same, is all," he replied. "So let's suit up and take out some monsters."
"How will you know if they're monsters or if some have a conscience?" Rhodey asked.
"If they're trying to eat you, they're the bad kind," Steve said before Clint could.
They laughed, and Natasha felt some of her tension ease. This part would be easy. This part, she could do on autopilot.
It was her emotions that she couldn't seem to trust.
***
Stalking NYC streets at night was exhilarating and exhausting, even on an uneventful night. This was not an uneventful night.
A lone vampire outside of the Museum of Natural History was feeding on a homeless man that had tried hiding in the foliage outside of the West 79th street exit. Clint shot an arrow into the vampire's shoulder, but the silver didn't poison him fast enough. He dropped the homeless man and hissed at them in fury. Natasha shot him in the face, blowing off his lower jaw.
"Bruce could use that," Clint remarked, nocking another arrow.
"You already hit him with the silver arrowhead," Natasha reminded him.
"Oh, yeah, that's going to screw it up."
"Guess we'll just have to finish off this one," Natasha said, continuing to shoot at the vampire in front of them. Lower jaw or not, he kept coming despite the silver arrowhead and half dozen shots to the chest. The sound and scent of the homeless man's blood was going to draw in more of them. "Ready for a crowd? Or do we call in the cavalry?"
"We've got this," Clint replied.
"Then let's dance."
Natasha rushed in, Glock holstered and silvered knives in hand. The vampire was slowed by silver poisoning, but not dead from it just yet. She would guess an older one, then, able to push past the infection brewing in his veins. She kicked him full in the chest when he got in close and not quite close enough for her to safely slash at him. The kick staggered him back, and Clint let another silver arrowhead fly. The vampire screamed, a high pitched sound, full of anger and fear and pain.
Remembering what Bucky had said about overwhelming the sense, Natasha let out a fierce howl of her own. The vampire held his hands over his ears, grimacing. That gave her the opportunity to come in close and slash his throat open. Her blade actually nicked his spine; she could feel the impact in her wrist and arm when silvered steel met bone. Blood spurted and liberally splashed her front.
Clint chuckled when she made a disgusted noise and pulled back, wiping her knife on the outside of her thigh, one of the few clean spots she could see. He retrieved his arrows and inspected them, deeming them fit for reuse. "That was easy."
Natasha was about to agree when she felt a trickle of unease. It took a moment for her to realize what she was picking up on.
It was too quiet. The homeless man had stopped whimpering and sobbing. Even his breathing couldn't be heard any longer.
Flicking her eyes in that direction, Clint's easy smile dropped and his entire stance hardened. He nodded, nocking an arrow in place as he fell into flanking position beside Natasha.
Three vampires had fallen on the poor homeless man, who for all intents and purposes was dead, his eyes just shy of empty.
Clint let loose three arrows in rapid succession, one even catching a vampire in the eye as she moved. She fell back, screeching and clawing at her face. Yanking out the arrow took her eye with it, and the silvered arrowhead partly broke off in the wound. Perfect. That would kill or slow her down, leaving her two girlfriends to be dealt with.
They didn't close in on Natasha. "Sister," one said, fangs extended. "Was this your prey? Was it your allotted hunting day?"
The vampire blood on her coated her scent, Natasha realized suddenly. She could get closer, but only at risk to herself if the ploy didn't work.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
Creeping forward warily with her knife hidden partly by her leg, Natasha nodded at them. "Now he's worthless."
"The other there hurt Coralina," the leader said, looking at Clint drawing another arrow from his quiver, ready to shoot again.
"He belongs to me," Natasha said coldly, advancing in a threatening manner. Now she didn't bother to hide her knife.
This alarmed the woman in charge. "Did Schmidt allow that? Or Zola?"
"What do you think?" Natasha snapped as if irritated by the very question.
"But Schmidt is keeping all the numbers tight in the zone. And you haven't been at meetings."
"They're boring," Natasha intoned, baring her teeth.
"You're required to go," the leader insisted. Natasha stalked forward, and she looked uneasy. "What are you doing?"
"Sometimes, it's best not to ask."
The silent vampire sniffed. "I smell another human."
Natasha knew the jig was up when both sniffed again. She threw her knife at the silent vampire's throat, forcing her to choke on her own blood. Natasha spun out of the way as two of Clint's arrows landed in her chest. She screeched, but Natasha ran forward and leapt at her, kicking the other wounded vampire away. Clint let out a volley of four arrows in quick succession, catching that wounded one in the chest. She stumbled, startled, then crashed into the fallen vampire, who already looked ashy and sick.
This left the leader of the trio with Natasha. "I don't think you're one of us," she hissed.
She bared her teeth in a threatening manner. "Because I'm not," she purred.
"You won't survive in Schmidt's territory, fledgling, even with your ghoul there to help you," the vampire snarled at her. "You are alone. You're nothing. We are many."
Natasha rolled her eyes, which let her see the shadows shift beyond them, somewhere toward West 80th. Dammit.
"How many?" Natasha asked, yanking her Glock out. There was a cry of surprise behind her from Clint, but if she looked his way, this vampire would certainly kill her.
"Twenty-seven in our haven, and that's not counting the hunting teams. Face it, fledgling, you can't steal Schmidt's territory from him. We'll kill you first."
"Just how loyal is this Zola anyway?" Natasha asked, eyebrow arched in challenge. "After all, you're a nobody. What do you know?"
This angered the leader as Natasha hoped. She attacked, lunging at Natasha, but her stance was sloppy and Natasha easily sidestepped her. The Glock was loud when she pulled the trigger, catching the vampire in the hip. That would be nasty, with lots of veins and arteries to repair, not that Natasha had any intention of letting her repair herself. She kept firing, shooting the back as she turned, then the back of her head. Then for good measure, she took out her other knife with her left hand and cut through her neck, severing the head.
Now she looked up toward Clint, who was struggling with the first fallen vampire. It had been a mistake to count her as nearly dead. Her comrade seemed to be succumbing to the effects of silver poisoning and blood loss, twitching and vomiting. The first one had pulled Clint to the ground. While he had kicked her in the face and had his own silvered knives to cut at her, she kept grabbing him and trying to scratch him. Natasha raced over with her knife and pulled the woman's head back by the hair. Adrenaline coursing through her, she peeled the vampire off of Clint, then nearly severed the head from the body in a single stroke.
"I always seem to be saving your ass," she laughed in relief, not seeing any other vampires coming in out of the shadows.
Clint's answering laughter was pained. "Yeah. Don't gloat about that too much. This time you were a little slow."
To her dawning horror, Natasha realized that the blood splashed across Clint's abdomen was his own, not vampire blood. She fell to her knees beside him and gingerly pulled away the reinforced Kevlar of his vest. Several deep gouges were there, blood all but pouring out of him.
Adding insult to injury, Natasha burst out into tears at the sight.
Dismayed, Clint clasped Natasha's hand tightly as she pressed down on his wounds. "Hey. I'll be all right. Bruce has tricks, the docs can all do a great stitch job."
But that was at the tower, nearly sixty blocks away.
"Maybe I can help," Bucky said, emerging from the shadows where Natasha had looked earlier.
"You're going to lick them shut?" Natasha asked. Clint seemed perturbed by that, but remained silent, which she was grateful for.
"I'm not sure that would work, actually," Bucky said with a grimace. He knelt on Clint's other side, looking down at them with a serious expression. "I think if I put my blood in the wound, my enhancements will try to repair the damage."
"But then it will get into my bloodstream," Clint said. He winced as Natasha pressed harder to stop the bleeding.
"You might," Bucky agreed. "You lost a lot of blood. But you're not at the edge of death yet, so you might be safe."
"Risk of vampirism vs. definite death if I do nothing," Clint said when Natasha's lips trembled with emotion. Bucky nodded. "When put that way... Do it."
Natasha could see the fear in Clint's expression, and held onto him tightly. "No matter what happens," she began as Bucky pulled open the wounds and bit his wrist to start his blood flowing. "We're going to get through it."
"Of course we are," Clint agreed, grip tight on her hand despite the blood smeared there. "You've got one vampire friend already. I think you're the Winter Soldier, right?" he asked Bucky.
"It's the nickname I seem to have acquired," Bucky replied, not looking at him.
"Think I'm getting better?" Clint rasped, lips tight with pain. Natasha had to resist the urge to gather him up in her arms at the sight.
"I think it's sealing," Bucky said. He seemed pale to Natasha, and she wondered if it was blood loss or trying to resist tearing into Clint's wound and drinking the blood himself.
"That's good. Though if I did grow fangs, you paved the way for human-vampire friendships."
Bucky slid his eyes toward Natasha, a concerned expression on his face. "Yeah. I heard the yells. If I didn't... If anything happened to her..."
"Damn, it hurts like a bitch," Clint growled.
Yanking his wrist away, Bucky let it heal. "I think you'll be all right, then." At Clint's questioning look, he gave a mirthless smile. "If you stop feeling, you're dying. Then the virus really will take hold and turn you."
"Thank you," Natasha whispered.
Brightening, Bucky nodded. "We should get you to a safe place to heal up completely, get checked out, just to be sure."
Natasha looked around them. "Too distracting for you?"
"Kinda, yeah," Bucky admitted.
"I won't stop you. Except with the vampires. The silver poisoning makes them smell rotten."
"Because they are," Bucky replied. He looked down at Clint, biting his lower lip. It really shouldn't have been so distracting to Natasha.
"Look, as awful as it sounds, the guy is goner," Natasha said, wincing. "If you need to... top off, or whatever you want to call it."
"It's-" Bucky began.
"Look, man," Clint said, tugging on his shirt to get his attention. "I already know you're a vampire, okay? Just... do whatever it is you need to do in order to not eat me, okay?"
Bucky took a deep breath, his expression pained. "Okay," he said softly. He left their side to go to the dying homeless man.
Clint and Natasha politely looked away, but by unspoken agreement both watched out of the corner of their eyes. Bucky seemed to say something soothing to the man, then put his mouth to one of the wounds at his neck. He cradled the man's head, making him as comfortable as possible, then drank deeply, until the man seemed to sag and collapse into himself like a fallen rag doll. Bucky took his mouth away after a moment, then took Natasha's silvered knife from one of the bodies nearby to cut off the man's head.
"What was that for?" Clint asked, not quite hiding the accusing note in his voice as Bucky handed the knife back to Natasha.
"I didn't know what blood was in his mouth," Bucky said, no inflection in his tone. "He didn't want to come back."
Clint blinked. "Oh. Oh shit." His hands shook a bit. "I didn't think of that. I'm sorry."
"I know you didn't. This was done to me without my consent. I won't do the same to anyone else." He knelt down again and lifted Clint up in his arms, hefting the weight as if he was a small child. "Get any weapons you want and let's go. Maybe there'll be a fledgling out there stupid enough to drink tainted blood."
"Fledgling?" Natasha asked, looking through the other bodies. No ID on any of them, but two switchblades, her second knife and Clint's arrows were retrieved. She put on Clint's fallen quiver and bow. The gear would be cleaned later, when they were safe. "Their leader called me that. I gather it's some kind of insult."
"Newborn vampire. Doesn't know rules or how to survive on their own yet. They tend to cluster for strength in numbers. I've never seen more than four or five at once, though. They tend to have too much infighting then."
So how much sway would Schmidt have to have in order to command twenty-seven vampires plus hunting parties? And if this group was the norm, each hunting party would have three vampires in it. Three or four could feed off a human, killing him in the process if they gorged, as these women did.
Schmidt's group could decimate New York City if left unchecked.
Bucky led them away from the museum, and Natasha checked in at the tower. She didn't mention Bucky's involvement yet, just that there were complications, they weren't safe yet, and wouldn't be back that evening.
"They don't worry about you two?"
"We're an efficient strike team," Clint replied. "We've never needed an extraction plan."
"Until tonight," Natasha sighed. How had she gotten so close to him so quickly? Clint was like family, and seeing him so grievously wounded had torn at her. But he was alive, gloriously alive, and would stay that way.
"No harm in needing help occasionally. Two of you against four? Impressive odds, really."
"They sucked," Clint said flatly.
"And we're that good," Natasha added with pride.
Bucky chuckled. "In that case, I'm glad we're friends."
"I'm your friend?" Clint asked in surprise.
"Friends of Natasha are friends of mine," Bucky replied, remembering not to shrug and jostle him in the process. He smiled warmly at Clint instead.
"Huh. I guess. Never thought I'd be friends with a vampire, to be honest."
"I understand," Bucky replied with a mirthless smile.
The hideaway was the basement of a brownstone. "I think the rest of this place is empty," Bucky told them. He laid Clint down on a couch gently, then rose. "No food in the place, but I can get some if you need it."
"We have energy bars, but I'm not hungry," Natasha murmured, stowing their gear and some of her armor in a corner of the room. Clint nodded in agreement, so Bucky sat crosslegged on the floor, leaving Natasha with the only chair.
"So now what?" Clint asked, smothering a yawn.
"Now, you sleep. Get your strength up."
"Do you think I'll turn?" Clint asked anxiously.
Bucky shook his head. "You were in a bad way, but not actually ready to die yet."
"Good to know," Clint replied with relief. "Not ready to give up beaches and tans yet."
"Yeah," Bucky replied dryly. "I'll bet you look awful pale."
Natasha let out a burst of startled laughter, smothering it with her hand when Clint shot her an irritated look. "What? It was funny."
He snorted, rolling his eyes. "Good to see where I stand with you."
"What? You're both cute. He's better looking pale and gothy, though." It was only Bucky's laughingly preening expression that she realized what she said. "Anyway, we're safe here for the night, right?"
Bucky nodded. "It's light proof, too. I've been here a few times when I couldn't get back underground before sunrise."
"Is there a shower? We need to clean off."
Clint got first dibs as Natasha washed off their weapons. He brusquely waved off Bucky's help once he saw that the surface of his wounds had sealed. "It itches like a bitch under my skin," he whined, "so I know it's still healing."
"And you still smell human," Bucky offered helpfully.
"Helpful to know. Creepy party trick, but helpful," Clint said, clapping Bucky on the shoulder on the way to the bathroom.
Bucky laughed and sat down across from Natasha at the table she had commandeered. "Hey."
"Hey."
"He's a good guy. I can see why you like him."
Natasha nodded and remained focused on cleaning her knife as Bucky slid closer. He dropped his chin to her shoulder, lips near her skin. Dammit, why had she removed the neck guard to get comfortable in here?
His tongue darted forward to touch her skin, right near the pulse point there. A hand came down to rest on her thigh, his other arm resting the back of her chair. The fingers at her thigh began to move, stroking her softly.
"What are you doing?"
"Has it been that long for you?"
Yes. Not that he needed to know that.
Bucky leaned in a little closer and pressed his lips to the underside of her jaw. "It was a long time for me. Years even before I was turned. Too focused on the job."
"You say that like it's a bad thing," she commented, cleaning off the last bit of blood from her knife. She looked at its edge critically, but she didn't need a whetstone just yet. Maybe one more fight, and then she would have to.
"No, but I might've lost sight of why I did it," Bucky murmured. He brushed his lips along her jaw, making her shiver. She refused to acknowledge the desire to turn and kiss him soundly. "We save lives, Natasha. That doesn't mean we have to give up our own."
"That's the price I'm willing to pay."
"But if you didn't?"
"I tried that already," she murmured, thinking of Nicholai, of Alexei, of the unborn daughter that she'd lost.
"Were they fighters?"
"Yes. Didn't help."
"I'm already dead. You can't lose what's already lost."
"You can die again."
Bucky buried his face in the crook of her neck. "Yes. But I'm not so afraid of losing happiness that I won't even try for it. I'm willing to try."
Natasha put down her knife and closed her eyes, feeling his lips against her skin, fingers stroking her through her clothes. If she let go of her control, if she gave in to this attraction, she would have to hide it. After all, the others could barely tolerate a friendship. How could they understand a love affair?
Love. A word she didn't want to say, an emotion she didn't want to feel. Love brought vulnerability, pain, loss.
She made a discontented noise when he pulled away. "Bucky..."
"No. Don't," he warned. "Don't use a name. They can't know, can't tell Steve. Clint's finishing up, and I don't think you would want them to know about us."
"They wouldn't understand," she murmured.
"Do you?" Bucky asked, sounding almost sad.
She licked her lips and looked at him. Her eyes slid away from him for a moment. "I'm not sure."
"You're a liar, Natasha," Bucky replied, definitely hurt now.
Sheathing a knife, Natasha raised her eyes. "I only act like I know everything."
"What do you want?" he asked quietly.
"I don't know. Part of the draw of this is that rules are easy. Save the humans, kill the vampires. There's no room for anything else. I don't have to feel or think."
"Do I at least make you feel something?"
"You know that I do."
"And you don't want to."
"Wanting leads to pain."
"Maybe this won't have to. Or if it does, I'll feel it for both of us."
Clint opened the bathroom door down the hall, so she fell silent and worked on the silver arrowheads. "I don't know," she said softly, knowing Bucky would hear her.
"Don't wait to die before your life can begin," he replied, standing. He turned to Clint as he walked back into the main sitting area. "Better?"
"Yeah, thanks. I had to put some of my stuff back on," Clint said, shrugging. He hadn't bothered with the shirt, vest or any protective gear. "Any place to bed down for a while?"
"Yeah, this is an apartment," Bucky said, getting to his feet. "There might be some bathrobes if we take a look."
"I'd walk around in a towel if you don't care," Clint said with a smile. "But I wouldn't want to offend Tash's sensibilities or make you all jealous."
"Or maybe you'd be jealous," Bucky laughed.
Clint wrinkled his nose. "Hardly. Yours is dead."
"Still active."
"Is it really? Gross."
The laughed and Natasha rolled his eyes. "Boys."
"Some things never change," Bucky replied with a grin. "I was always this good."
"This much a dork, you mean?" she taunted.
"Says the giant dork," Clint teased.
Natasha rolled her eyes and headed toward the bathroom to wash off the dried blood. "And just for that," she called out, one arm raised to point behind her, "you can finish cleaning the arrows I rescued for you."
Clint had a few colorful curses in response, which had the others laughing. Natasha first stood under the shower in her cat suit, the easiest way to wash off all of the vampire blood that had dried into the Kevlar weave. Once the water swirled clear, she turned it off and peeled out of the suit and under things beneath it. She looked at her reflection in the foggy mirror, the way everything was blurred and soft, yet still vaguely looking like herself. Was that all her life was meant to be, then? Killing dead things, washing away every trace of it, then going back out again to do more of the same? She already had nightmares enough for ten lifetimes. When did it ever get to end?
Blowing out a breath to silence those maudlin thoughts, she went back into the shower, snapping the curtain shut. She still had to wash the blood out of her hair and off of her face.
She knew who it was that opened the door just as she turned the water back on. "You're pretty sure of yourself."
"More like hopeful," Bucky replied. "Clint went to bed, if that helps."
"It does."
Pause. She could imagine him biting his lip, and found herself biting her own in response, desire starting to curl low in her belly. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. He had to hear its staccato rhythm.
"So...?"
"You need washing, too, don't you? Come in."
He came in fully clothed as she had been at first, eyeing her hungrily. His mouth sought hers, hands roaming over her body as she started to undo his clothes. "I wasn't that messy," he murmured against her mouth, hands sliding down to caress her ass. "But I can be."
Natasha dropped the sodden clothes to the bottom of the tub. "This is your place, isn't it? It's not a random place you found."
"I've got this as a safe house, the spot underground where I took you, and one other place." He groaned when she yanked off his jeans and tighty whities. "I'll have to take you there sometime."
"Just shut up and kiss me," she growled, pulling his head down.
"Yes, ma'am," he teased before kissing her.
Bucky brought both hands beneath her, lifting her up to make it easier for him to kiss her. One hand slid around to her front, letting him finger her folds and entrance. She gasped into his mouth when he hit her clit, and the man was clever enough to stay there, rubbing at her until she dug her nails into his shoulders. Her kisses were frantic and her thighs quivered around his waist. When she couldn't even maintain the kisses, she tucked her head against his neck and shuddered, her whole body shaking. "Oh, God," she moaned against his skin, mouth open.
"I've got you," he returned, fingers not stopping. "C'mon, Natasha."
Her fingers tightened further, and maybe her nails were breaking skin. "Harder. Just a bit, just-" She stopped, breaking off and biting his shoulder to muffle her cries as she came.
"You like it rough?" he asked, sounding aroused. His fingers kept at the same rhythm and pressure, hoping to coax another orgasm out of her. At her nodding against his shoulder, he grinned. "I do, too. Do your worst, Natasha."
She gasped when he pressed her against the tiled wall, his erect cock pressed against her but just outside her body. Bucky kept using his fingers on her, getting her slippery and aching with the need to have him inside her. She raked her nails down his back and bit his shoulder as she moaned. It felt so good, especially after such a long time without, and Natasha bit down hard enough to draw blood.
To her surprise, there was no coppery tang in her mouth. The blood was more like dry wine, and she curled her tongue around the taste of him. Was this how vampires felt when they fed?
The bite made him groan in pleasure. "Do I get to mark you in return?" he groaned, sliding his fingers inside of her.
"Only if you erase it after."
Bucky shifted her so that she could help guide his cock into her. She sank down onto his length with a sigh of pleasure and relaxed onto it. "It's been too long."
"Definitely," he replied, voice strangled. "Remember what I said about sensory overload?"
"Yeah."
"Holy shit, this alone is amazing," Bucky breathed.
"Try moving."
When he did, they both hissed at the sensation. It didn't take long for him to pick up speed, to kiss her as if his life depended on it, to use long and deep strokes to make Natasha whine with need. She tilted her head back, gasping at the bursts of pleasure shooting through her. She could feel Bucky's body tense, then rhythm grow faster and harder as he came close himself. He muffled his groans in her skin, mouth open against her throat. Then as the shudders began, his teeth cut her skin and his tongue lapped at her blood. He groaned, throaty and deep, then pressed his mouth over the wound to drink deeply. The cuts had been so swift, she barely felt anything. Now she could feel the suction as he drank, but otherwise there was no dizzying euphoria. When his tongue dragged wetly over her neck, she knew he was sealing the wound.
Bucky sagged heavily against her, pressing her uncomfortably into the wall. "God. I can't..."
She gently carded her fingers through his hair. "That good?"
He gave her a goofy grin. "Better."
"You sure know how to stroke a girl's ego."
"Among other things."
Natasha laughed and let her legs fall from his waist. "Look at you. Such a charmer," she teased.
He rinsed off first and told her to leave the sodden mess in the tub when she was done. She admired the muscled planes of his body; he had been in fantastic shape prior to his death. Once he was out of the room, she cleaned herself in earnest, especially since his come was streaked with blood on her thighs. Messy, but all good sex tended to be.
She couldn't help but smile goofily herself. It had been a good night after all.
***
***
To chapter Four - Emotional Connections
Author: Eustacia Vye
Author's e-mail: eustacia_vye28@hotmail.com
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Natasha/Bucky
Disclaimer: Not mine! Some comic backstory is incorporated into characterizations, but this is still primarily based off of the movieverse.
Spoilers/Warnings: AU to the MCU. Inspired by this gifset on Tumblr. Warning for mentions of suicide, violence and mayhem in line with various vampire myths where they don't sparkle.
Summary: In the years since a virus turned some of the infected dead into vampires, hunters rose and formed groups to protect the living. It kept the vampire numbers lower than they would have been otherwise, but they were still far too dangerous. Natasha Romanoff, newly transferred to New York City, knew all this. But some of her beliefs were about to change.
Prior chapters:
One - The City That Never Sleeps
Two - Naming A Shadow
Chapter Three - Making Contact
It wasn't difficult to give Bucky the phone to make contact easier. Over the next few weeks, he even answered all of Bruce's texted questions in enough detail to make him happy. He even went into excruciatingly personal details, such as the fact that he was still capable of sexual arousal and possibly even intercourse, though he had no opportunity for such a thing. Bruce didn't ask if he was willing to masturbate For Science, thankfully. Natasha found that line of questioning to be embarrassing and crude, and saw no point to it. When Bruce realized how uncomfortable Natasha was in seeing the text transcripts, he explained that it was to rule out the possibility that the vampire virus was actually sexually transmitted. Many blood borne viruses were, after all.
That made Natasha feel marginally better. She wasn't exactly sure why she cared; she wasn't and couldn't ever be interested in Bucky that way. He was a vampire and she was a hunter, for God's sake. While the flirting was kind of fun, there was nothing that could come of it.
Now if only she could convince Bucky of that.
He went with her on her rounds, which she found highly annoying. "Because I'm a woman?" she snarled, tactical knife in hand.
Shaking his head, Bucky shot her a sidelong glance. "Because how else can I talk to you? I can't talk to Steve like this, I don't want Clint to be suspicious, the new girl doesn't do it for me, and I'm not interested in getting to know the others."
Natasha wasn't pleased that he was so dismissive of Sharon Carter, newly added to the team. Janet Van Dyne hadn't been quite ready to return, but was considering it. James Rhodes was permanently on loan, as was his girlfriend Carol Danvers. The couple hadn't been out on patrol yet, as they were still settling into the tower and figuring out clearance levels for everyone they interacted with. Natasha took that to mean the US Air Force was experimenting on something.
"Why do you latch onto me so hard?" she asked, irritated.
"If I said it was your red hair?"
"I'll dye it black."
"The name Natasha?"
"Madame Natasha to you."
Bucky laughed, still charmed. "You amaze me, Natasha."
"With all you've seen? Your standards must be low."
"On the contrary," he disagreed. "They're pretty damn high. You're amazing, and you make me feel human again."
She stilled. "What are you talking about?"
"It's... The urges. To be a vampire. It's like voice in the back of my head, constantly wanting me to kill, to be a feeding machine. And you... quiet them. They're gone, essentially. If don't feel so out of control around you."
"You said I smell delicious."
"Well, you do."
"How is that quieting the voices in your head?"
"Don't know. I don't question that kind of thing. It's not pheromones, because even the thought of you can keep me pretty calm and focused." His eyes twinkled. "I can't wait to see how I react when we kiss. Or more."
Natasha shook her head and sidestepped him. "That can't happen, Bucky. You know that."
"Oh? And why is that? I won't infect you. I won't give you the virus, no matter what we do."
"You're so certain of that?"
"You are so determined that this won't work. Romeo and Juliet-"
"Died. It was a crush that destroyed them and their families."
Bucky fell silent for a moment. "Or are you just afraid to feel anything? Afraid to lose something important or potentially important, so you just refuse to feel it in the first place?"
Waiting until he was done, she leveled a cold expression at him. "Are you done?"
"No. I won't give up on you, even if you already have."
"I'm a hunter."
"I'm aware of that."
"Even if I don't kill you, someone will."
"I've survived this long without you, Natasha," Bucky chided her gently. "I can deal with the voices alone if I have to, but why would I want to? I didn't ask for this. I didn't want this. But I'm making the most of a terrible situation I'm in. I'm not so afraid of losing something wonderful that I won't try for it in the first place."
Natasha sighed, refusing to feel any tenderness. That would leave her vulnerable, open to attack, and she couldn't allow that. "Loss is devastating."
"I know," Bucky said softly.
"How could you?" she snapped.
"Because I lost everything from my old life when this happened to me. Because this now is all I'll ever have. If I have to, I'll bear all the hurt. I'll hold it for you if you can't."
"It's not a contest to see who hurts more," Natasha snapped.
"Isn't it?" he challenged. "Everything approaching serious emotional connection has you running and accusing me of terrible things. You still wear your grief, same as me, but the others don't know you well enough to see it, do they? So you hide behind our grief and your pain, and tell yourself you can't have anything good ever again."
Natasha gasped when Bucky spun her around, pinning her against a wall and then devoured her mouth in a kiss. His frustration and desire were there, his need for her and the tie between them. And as much as Natasha had told herself not to respond to him, she found herself doing it anyway. It wasn't because of memories of Nicholai or Alexei, it wasn't because of childish dreams or lustful moments reading erotica with vampires in it. It wasn't because she thought she could somehow change him. It was feeling what he did, a connection that she hadn't wanted to recognize and kept telling herself shouldn't happen.
"You can have a good thing, Natasha," Bucky murmured. "If it's not me, it's not me. But don't close yourself off to the possibility."
"You think it's you."
"Of course." He grinned at her, then picked her up in his arms, bringing her up to his height. "But if you honestly want me to stop, tell me."
She had her arms around his shoulders for balance, and now moved one so that she could trace the angles of his face, the curve of his lips, the edge of a fang. His eyes seemed to have a preternatural glow to them, but he was still and didn't try to attack her. How many baby vamps went on rampages simply because they could, because they thought they should?
Natasha's lips parted as she cut her finger on the tip of Bucky's fang, and she watched his eyes darken. It was lust for blood and for her, but still he didn't lunge for her. Bucky had been an exceedingly honorable man in life, and it seemed that death hadn't changed that about him.
"You can suck on my finger," Natasha whispered, her voice no more than a rasp.
His tongue curled around the pad of her finger, a light and gentle touch. The soft caress of his tongue sent a shiver through her, and his licks were soft on her skin. How would it feel against her throat? A breast? Her stomach? Lower?
Bucky's lips curled into a smile before he drew her finger further into his mouth. Natasha could feel the warmth of a blush in her cheeks and desire pooling in her belly, low and warm, a rising ache she hadn't felt in a long time. He could smell her arousal, the smug bastard, but her heart raced and she couldn't help the sense of excitement and longing rising in her chest.
"Maybe," she rasped softly, "I need to test things out. See if your theory is as full of shit as you are or not."
He laughed and kissed her, soft and slow, tongue in her mouth. There was a soft tingle at her cut finger, so she pulled back to look at it.
There was no cut.
"I'm healed."
"Yeah. Vampire saliva has some healing properties for that kind of thing, I guess." He shrugged, unconcerned. "I never had opportunity to test it, but I've heard that."
"Have you told Bruce?"
"Um... Didn't think of it before."
"You should."
"He'll want to collect samples, I'm sure."
"Not that you've submitted any yet," Natasha pointed out. At his lofted eyebrow, she smiled wryly. "Bruce may have asked me to get him samples."
"I'll give you whatever you ask for."
"For what price? A kiss? More?"
"Just because you ask," he replied softly, letting her back to her feet. "Because you and your friends want my help."
She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down for a kiss that left them both breathless with need. "Thank you. On Bruce's behalf."
"I'm very open to such expressions of thanks," he replied, grinning impishly at her.
Natasha kissed him again. "Then let's get started."
***
Bruce looked at Natasha in confusion. "You got blood, saliva and tissue samples for me. Without any silver contamination."
"Our contact supplied them. If he can, he'll get some from other vampires so you can look for commonalities and differences."
He blinked. "That's thoughtful. And exactly what I'd need. I've been making do with what we could get for so long, I'm not used to getting what I actually need."
Natasha smiled gently at him. "Maybe you should make a wish list of what you want to study. Maybe he can get it for you."
"I wonder why the saliva, though."
"Healing properties," Natasha responded. She found herself rubbing her finger as Bruce's eyes widened in surprise. "It can heal damage from vampire fangs. Don't know about anything else, though. And doesn't cause infection."
"Interesting," Bruce breathed, sounding impressed. And it was, really. Could the enzymes be used to help them heal wounds? Were there ways to commercialize it, perhaps? There were so many potential ways to research this.
"So I'll pass along the list," Natasha told him. "The Winter Soldier might not be able to get all of it, but I'm sure he'll keep an eye out. And we can set up a drop box of some kind so you can get it without any risk to your safety."
Bruce gave a soft huff of uncomfortable laughter. "Yeah, well, in case you haven't noticed, this entire line of research can potentially compromise my safety."
Natasha blanched. "I never thought of that."
"It's okay. Most don't."
"Don't put yourself at risk, okay? No experimenting on yourself."
He laughed at that. "People do it, sure. And wind up doing horrible things to themselves as a result. No, Natasha, I'll be fine, I promise."
His voice curled around her given name pleasantly, much as it did most of the time he spoke with her. It would be easier on her if there was an attraction there, if she wanted to kiss him or date him. Hell, Barton or Rogers would be easier to deal with than this dangerous attraction to Bucky. But no, she never did things the easy way, so why should her romantic and sex drives have to differ?
She smiled as if she couldn't tell he was interested. If he wasn't going to push or go after her, she wasn't going to make it easy on him. He knew what she did for a living, knew the kind of dangers that it brought. She couldn't afford to wait forever; she already knew she couldn't have it. She would someday die in the field, most likely. If any vampire tried to convert her, she'd walk into the sun rather than kill innocents.
Though Bucky's way of dealing with it wasn't such a bad option.
Natasha made her way out of the labs to talk with others about setting up the drop box for biohazard material Bruce would experiment on. As expected, Clint and Steve looked ill, Tony rubbed his hands with glee, and the rest looked vaguely appalled. "I'd rather just kill them all and be done with it," Carol admitted.
"You'd punch a dinosaur in the face if you could," Rhodey laughed, slinging an arm around her shoulders and kissing her cheek. "But this Soldier guy, he's trying to help."
"Makes you think twice about calling them all monsters, maybe," Pepper murmured. "How many innocents were turned against their will?"
"And how many begged for it?" Clint countered. "How many saw it as an excuse to be evil, to live forever on the backs of others, to see the rest of humanity as cattle?" He shrugged. "It goes both ways, you know."
"They're not better than anyone else, in other words," Steve said, resignation in his tone. "Just people. The virus brings out whatever was there, amplifying it. A bad person becomes evil, a good one becomes great."
Natasha thought of Bucky, of what she knew of him in stories and then the reality of him as a vampire. "Is there maybe a way to turn them back? The ones that want to? Reverse the virus, make them human again?"
The room fell silent. "That... sounds tricky," Tony said, breaking the stunned silence. "I mean, there's the possibility of vampirism not taking. Or doing horrible mutations, right? What if this new virus is the same? It might kill them, might not reverse the mutations, might make them even worse than before..."
"It's conjecture, anyway," Steve said dismissively.
"Though if Bruce could make one," Carol murmured, "I'm sure some would volunteer to test it, even at the risk of death. There's always risk involved in life. And even in death, now."
"You're talking about vampires having rights, then," Rhodey said. "So would they own property? Vote? Serve in armies? Have state-sanctioned blood bank access?"
"Maybe there would be research into blood substitutes," Tony said with a shrug. "If they're people, like a subset of people, they'd be something like homo sapiens vampiris, and have to have some way to do ordinary human stuff. It would be complicated. Washington would love it."
"Only if the people did," Steve murmured. "But we've all lost so much to this virus, I don't think they'd be so willing to let it go."
"You'd be surprised," Natasha murmured, shaking her head and feeling vaguely guilty about not telling Steve that the Winter Soldier was Bucky. "People want comfort. Illusions. The idea of safety and freedom."
"But freedom isn't free," Steve replied. "The cost of freedom is high. I'm prepared to pay it, and I'm sure I'm not the only one."
"How many know the true cost?" Carol asked quietly. "The sacrifice involved? If they did..."
"There are always those that would," Rhodey murmured, kissing her temple. "Look at us. The military isn't a cakewalk, hon. We knew that, knew what it meant. What we're talking about is no different, really."
"Wow, this got very philosophical," Pepper observed when the others fell silent.
"It's a tough call," Natasha murmured. "There's no right answer, no wrong answer. We can debate ethics, what's death or life, what rights do vampires get, whatever. But if this is reversible, that's a whole separate argument. I don't know about you guys, but my personal set of ethics are already pretty gray as it is. I mean, I'm working with a vampire! I'm supposed to kill them all."
"You don't want to like him," Pepper mentioned. "I get how that is," she added, eyes flicking toward Tony.
"It would be easier if I didn't," Natasha agreed. No need to clarify how she liked him, right? Right.
"C'mon," Clint replied, getting up. "Let's go find some you're not friends with and kick ass."
"Sounds like a plan to me," Natasha said with a grin, eagerly getting to her feet.
Clint rubbed his hands together. "I have some new arrowheads I want to test out."
"You are such a geek," Natasha told him fondly.
"Says the one that giggles with joy at getting new silver bullets or knives."
"They're practical," she said defensively.
He laughed. "We're the same, is all," he replied. "So let's suit up and take out some monsters."
"How will you know if they're monsters or if some have a conscience?" Rhodey asked.
"If they're trying to eat you, they're the bad kind," Steve said before Clint could.
They laughed, and Natasha felt some of her tension ease. This part would be easy. This part, she could do on autopilot.
It was her emotions that she couldn't seem to trust.
***
Stalking NYC streets at night was exhilarating and exhausting, even on an uneventful night. This was not an uneventful night.
A lone vampire outside of the Museum of Natural History was feeding on a homeless man that had tried hiding in the foliage outside of the West 79th street exit. Clint shot an arrow into the vampire's shoulder, but the silver didn't poison him fast enough. He dropped the homeless man and hissed at them in fury. Natasha shot him in the face, blowing off his lower jaw.
"Bruce could use that," Clint remarked, nocking another arrow.
"You already hit him with the silver arrowhead," Natasha reminded him.
"Oh, yeah, that's going to screw it up."
"Guess we'll just have to finish off this one," Natasha said, continuing to shoot at the vampire in front of them. Lower jaw or not, he kept coming despite the silver arrowhead and half dozen shots to the chest. The sound and scent of the homeless man's blood was going to draw in more of them. "Ready for a crowd? Or do we call in the cavalry?"
"We've got this," Clint replied.
"Then let's dance."
Natasha rushed in, Glock holstered and silvered knives in hand. The vampire was slowed by silver poisoning, but not dead from it just yet. She would guess an older one, then, able to push past the infection brewing in his veins. She kicked him full in the chest when he got in close and not quite close enough for her to safely slash at him. The kick staggered him back, and Clint let another silver arrowhead fly. The vampire screamed, a high pitched sound, full of anger and fear and pain.
Remembering what Bucky had said about overwhelming the sense, Natasha let out a fierce howl of her own. The vampire held his hands over his ears, grimacing. That gave her the opportunity to come in close and slash his throat open. Her blade actually nicked his spine; she could feel the impact in her wrist and arm when silvered steel met bone. Blood spurted and liberally splashed her front.
Clint chuckled when she made a disgusted noise and pulled back, wiping her knife on the outside of her thigh, one of the few clean spots she could see. He retrieved his arrows and inspected them, deeming them fit for reuse. "That was easy."
Natasha was about to agree when she felt a trickle of unease. It took a moment for her to realize what she was picking up on.
It was too quiet. The homeless man had stopped whimpering and sobbing. Even his breathing couldn't be heard any longer.
Flicking her eyes in that direction, Clint's easy smile dropped and his entire stance hardened. He nodded, nocking an arrow in place as he fell into flanking position beside Natasha.
Three vampires had fallen on the poor homeless man, who for all intents and purposes was dead, his eyes just shy of empty.
Clint let loose three arrows in rapid succession, one even catching a vampire in the eye as she moved. She fell back, screeching and clawing at her face. Yanking out the arrow took her eye with it, and the silvered arrowhead partly broke off in the wound. Perfect. That would kill or slow her down, leaving her two girlfriends to be dealt with.
They didn't close in on Natasha. "Sister," one said, fangs extended. "Was this your prey? Was it your allotted hunting day?"
The vampire blood on her coated her scent, Natasha realized suddenly. She could get closer, but only at risk to herself if the ploy didn't work.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
Creeping forward warily with her knife hidden partly by her leg, Natasha nodded at them. "Now he's worthless."
"The other there hurt Coralina," the leader said, looking at Clint drawing another arrow from his quiver, ready to shoot again.
"He belongs to me," Natasha said coldly, advancing in a threatening manner. Now she didn't bother to hide her knife.
This alarmed the woman in charge. "Did Schmidt allow that? Or Zola?"
"What do you think?" Natasha snapped as if irritated by the very question.
"But Schmidt is keeping all the numbers tight in the zone. And you haven't been at meetings."
"They're boring," Natasha intoned, baring her teeth.
"You're required to go," the leader insisted. Natasha stalked forward, and she looked uneasy. "What are you doing?"
"Sometimes, it's best not to ask."
The silent vampire sniffed. "I smell another human."
Natasha knew the jig was up when both sniffed again. She threw her knife at the silent vampire's throat, forcing her to choke on her own blood. Natasha spun out of the way as two of Clint's arrows landed in her chest. She screeched, but Natasha ran forward and leapt at her, kicking the other wounded vampire away. Clint let out a volley of four arrows in quick succession, catching that wounded one in the chest. She stumbled, startled, then crashed into the fallen vampire, who already looked ashy and sick.
This left the leader of the trio with Natasha. "I don't think you're one of us," she hissed.
She bared her teeth in a threatening manner. "Because I'm not," she purred.
"You won't survive in Schmidt's territory, fledgling, even with your ghoul there to help you," the vampire snarled at her. "You are alone. You're nothing. We are many."
Natasha rolled her eyes, which let her see the shadows shift beyond them, somewhere toward West 80th. Dammit.
"How many?" Natasha asked, yanking her Glock out. There was a cry of surprise behind her from Clint, but if she looked his way, this vampire would certainly kill her.
"Twenty-seven in our haven, and that's not counting the hunting teams. Face it, fledgling, you can't steal Schmidt's territory from him. We'll kill you first."
"Just how loyal is this Zola anyway?" Natasha asked, eyebrow arched in challenge. "After all, you're a nobody. What do you know?"
This angered the leader as Natasha hoped. She attacked, lunging at Natasha, but her stance was sloppy and Natasha easily sidestepped her. The Glock was loud when she pulled the trigger, catching the vampire in the hip. That would be nasty, with lots of veins and arteries to repair, not that Natasha had any intention of letting her repair herself. She kept firing, shooting the back as she turned, then the back of her head. Then for good measure, she took out her other knife with her left hand and cut through her neck, severing the head.
Now she looked up toward Clint, who was struggling with the first fallen vampire. It had been a mistake to count her as nearly dead. Her comrade seemed to be succumbing to the effects of silver poisoning and blood loss, twitching and vomiting. The first one had pulled Clint to the ground. While he had kicked her in the face and had his own silvered knives to cut at her, she kept grabbing him and trying to scratch him. Natasha raced over with her knife and pulled the woman's head back by the hair. Adrenaline coursing through her, she peeled the vampire off of Clint, then nearly severed the head from the body in a single stroke.
"I always seem to be saving your ass," she laughed in relief, not seeing any other vampires coming in out of the shadows.
Clint's answering laughter was pained. "Yeah. Don't gloat about that too much. This time you were a little slow."
To her dawning horror, Natasha realized that the blood splashed across Clint's abdomen was his own, not vampire blood. She fell to her knees beside him and gingerly pulled away the reinforced Kevlar of his vest. Several deep gouges were there, blood all but pouring out of him.
Adding insult to injury, Natasha burst out into tears at the sight.
Dismayed, Clint clasped Natasha's hand tightly as she pressed down on his wounds. "Hey. I'll be all right. Bruce has tricks, the docs can all do a great stitch job."
But that was at the tower, nearly sixty blocks away.
"Maybe I can help," Bucky said, emerging from the shadows where Natasha had looked earlier.
"You're going to lick them shut?" Natasha asked. Clint seemed perturbed by that, but remained silent, which she was grateful for.
"I'm not sure that would work, actually," Bucky said with a grimace. He knelt on Clint's other side, looking down at them with a serious expression. "I think if I put my blood in the wound, my enhancements will try to repair the damage."
"But then it will get into my bloodstream," Clint said. He winced as Natasha pressed harder to stop the bleeding.
"You might," Bucky agreed. "You lost a lot of blood. But you're not at the edge of death yet, so you might be safe."
"Risk of vampirism vs. definite death if I do nothing," Clint said when Natasha's lips trembled with emotion. Bucky nodded. "When put that way... Do it."
Natasha could see the fear in Clint's expression, and held onto him tightly. "No matter what happens," she began as Bucky pulled open the wounds and bit his wrist to start his blood flowing. "We're going to get through it."
"Of course we are," Clint agreed, grip tight on her hand despite the blood smeared there. "You've got one vampire friend already. I think you're the Winter Soldier, right?" he asked Bucky.
"It's the nickname I seem to have acquired," Bucky replied, not looking at him.
"Think I'm getting better?" Clint rasped, lips tight with pain. Natasha had to resist the urge to gather him up in her arms at the sight.
"I think it's sealing," Bucky said. He seemed pale to Natasha, and she wondered if it was blood loss or trying to resist tearing into Clint's wound and drinking the blood himself.
"That's good. Though if I did grow fangs, you paved the way for human-vampire friendships."
Bucky slid his eyes toward Natasha, a concerned expression on his face. "Yeah. I heard the yells. If I didn't... If anything happened to her..."
"Damn, it hurts like a bitch," Clint growled.
Yanking his wrist away, Bucky let it heal. "I think you'll be all right, then." At Clint's questioning look, he gave a mirthless smile. "If you stop feeling, you're dying. Then the virus really will take hold and turn you."
"Thank you," Natasha whispered.
Brightening, Bucky nodded. "We should get you to a safe place to heal up completely, get checked out, just to be sure."
Natasha looked around them. "Too distracting for you?"
"Kinda, yeah," Bucky admitted.
"I won't stop you. Except with the vampires. The silver poisoning makes them smell rotten."
"Because they are," Bucky replied. He looked down at Clint, biting his lower lip. It really shouldn't have been so distracting to Natasha.
"Look, as awful as it sounds, the guy is goner," Natasha said, wincing. "If you need to... top off, or whatever you want to call it."
"It's-" Bucky began.
"Look, man," Clint said, tugging on his shirt to get his attention. "I already know you're a vampire, okay? Just... do whatever it is you need to do in order to not eat me, okay?"
Bucky took a deep breath, his expression pained. "Okay," he said softly. He left their side to go to the dying homeless man.
Clint and Natasha politely looked away, but by unspoken agreement both watched out of the corner of their eyes. Bucky seemed to say something soothing to the man, then put his mouth to one of the wounds at his neck. He cradled the man's head, making him as comfortable as possible, then drank deeply, until the man seemed to sag and collapse into himself like a fallen rag doll. Bucky took his mouth away after a moment, then took Natasha's silvered knife from one of the bodies nearby to cut off the man's head.
"What was that for?" Clint asked, not quite hiding the accusing note in his voice as Bucky handed the knife back to Natasha.
"I didn't know what blood was in his mouth," Bucky said, no inflection in his tone. "He didn't want to come back."
Clint blinked. "Oh. Oh shit." His hands shook a bit. "I didn't think of that. I'm sorry."
"I know you didn't. This was done to me without my consent. I won't do the same to anyone else." He knelt down again and lifted Clint up in his arms, hefting the weight as if he was a small child. "Get any weapons you want and let's go. Maybe there'll be a fledgling out there stupid enough to drink tainted blood."
"Fledgling?" Natasha asked, looking through the other bodies. No ID on any of them, but two switchblades, her second knife and Clint's arrows were retrieved. She put on Clint's fallen quiver and bow. The gear would be cleaned later, when they were safe. "Their leader called me that. I gather it's some kind of insult."
"Newborn vampire. Doesn't know rules or how to survive on their own yet. They tend to cluster for strength in numbers. I've never seen more than four or five at once, though. They tend to have too much infighting then."
So how much sway would Schmidt have to have in order to command twenty-seven vampires plus hunting parties? And if this group was the norm, each hunting party would have three vampires in it. Three or four could feed off a human, killing him in the process if they gorged, as these women did.
Schmidt's group could decimate New York City if left unchecked.
Bucky led them away from the museum, and Natasha checked in at the tower. She didn't mention Bucky's involvement yet, just that there were complications, they weren't safe yet, and wouldn't be back that evening.
"They don't worry about you two?"
"We're an efficient strike team," Clint replied. "We've never needed an extraction plan."
"Until tonight," Natasha sighed. How had she gotten so close to him so quickly? Clint was like family, and seeing him so grievously wounded had torn at her. But he was alive, gloriously alive, and would stay that way.
"No harm in needing help occasionally. Two of you against four? Impressive odds, really."
"They sucked," Clint said flatly.
"And we're that good," Natasha added with pride.
Bucky chuckled. "In that case, I'm glad we're friends."
"I'm your friend?" Clint asked in surprise.
"Friends of Natasha are friends of mine," Bucky replied, remembering not to shrug and jostle him in the process. He smiled warmly at Clint instead.
"Huh. I guess. Never thought I'd be friends with a vampire, to be honest."
"I understand," Bucky replied with a mirthless smile.
The hideaway was the basement of a brownstone. "I think the rest of this place is empty," Bucky told them. He laid Clint down on a couch gently, then rose. "No food in the place, but I can get some if you need it."
"We have energy bars, but I'm not hungry," Natasha murmured, stowing their gear and some of her armor in a corner of the room. Clint nodded in agreement, so Bucky sat crosslegged on the floor, leaving Natasha with the only chair.
"So now what?" Clint asked, smothering a yawn.
"Now, you sleep. Get your strength up."
"Do you think I'll turn?" Clint asked anxiously.
Bucky shook his head. "You were in a bad way, but not actually ready to die yet."
"Good to know," Clint replied with relief. "Not ready to give up beaches and tans yet."
"Yeah," Bucky replied dryly. "I'll bet you look awful pale."
Natasha let out a burst of startled laughter, smothering it with her hand when Clint shot her an irritated look. "What? It was funny."
He snorted, rolling his eyes. "Good to see where I stand with you."
"What? You're both cute. He's better looking pale and gothy, though." It was only Bucky's laughingly preening expression that she realized what she said. "Anyway, we're safe here for the night, right?"
Bucky nodded. "It's light proof, too. I've been here a few times when I couldn't get back underground before sunrise."
"Is there a shower? We need to clean off."
Clint got first dibs as Natasha washed off their weapons. He brusquely waved off Bucky's help once he saw that the surface of his wounds had sealed. "It itches like a bitch under my skin," he whined, "so I know it's still healing."
"And you still smell human," Bucky offered helpfully.
"Helpful to know. Creepy party trick, but helpful," Clint said, clapping Bucky on the shoulder on the way to the bathroom.
Bucky laughed and sat down across from Natasha at the table she had commandeered. "Hey."
"Hey."
"He's a good guy. I can see why you like him."
Natasha nodded and remained focused on cleaning her knife as Bucky slid closer. He dropped his chin to her shoulder, lips near her skin. Dammit, why had she removed the neck guard to get comfortable in here?
His tongue darted forward to touch her skin, right near the pulse point there. A hand came down to rest on her thigh, his other arm resting the back of her chair. The fingers at her thigh began to move, stroking her softly.
"What are you doing?"
"Has it been that long for you?"
Yes. Not that he needed to know that.
Bucky leaned in a little closer and pressed his lips to the underside of her jaw. "It was a long time for me. Years even before I was turned. Too focused on the job."
"You say that like it's a bad thing," she commented, cleaning off the last bit of blood from her knife. She looked at its edge critically, but she didn't need a whetstone just yet. Maybe one more fight, and then she would have to.
"No, but I might've lost sight of why I did it," Bucky murmured. He brushed his lips along her jaw, making her shiver. She refused to acknowledge the desire to turn and kiss him soundly. "We save lives, Natasha. That doesn't mean we have to give up our own."
"That's the price I'm willing to pay."
"But if you didn't?"
"I tried that already," she murmured, thinking of Nicholai, of Alexei, of the unborn daughter that she'd lost.
"Were they fighters?"
"Yes. Didn't help."
"I'm already dead. You can't lose what's already lost."
"You can die again."
Bucky buried his face in the crook of her neck. "Yes. But I'm not so afraid of losing happiness that I won't even try for it. I'm willing to try."
Natasha put down her knife and closed her eyes, feeling his lips against her skin, fingers stroking her through her clothes. If she let go of her control, if she gave in to this attraction, she would have to hide it. After all, the others could barely tolerate a friendship. How could they understand a love affair?
Love. A word she didn't want to say, an emotion she didn't want to feel. Love brought vulnerability, pain, loss.
She made a discontented noise when he pulled away. "Bucky..."
"No. Don't," he warned. "Don't use a name. They can't know, can't tell Steve. Clint's finishing up, and I don't think you would want them to know about us."
"They wouldn't understand," she murmured.
"Do you?" Bucky asked, sounding almost sad.
She licked her lips and looked at him. Her eyes slid away from him for a moment. "I'm not sure."
"You're a liar, Natasha," Bucky replied, definitely hurt now.
Sheathing a knife, Natasha raised her eyes. "I only act like I know everything."
"What do you want?" he asked quietly.
"I don't know. Part of the draw of this is that rules are easy. Save the humans, kill the vampires. There's no room for anything else. I don't have to feel or think."
"Do I at least make you feel something?"
"You know that I do."
"And you don't want to."
"Wanting leads to pain."
"Maybe this won't have to. Or if it does, I'll feel it for both of us."
Clint opened the bathroom door down the hall, so she fell silent and worked on the silver arrowheads. "I don't know," she said softly, knowing Bucky would hear her.
"Don't wait to die before your life can begin," he replied, standing. He turned to Clint as he walked back into the main sitting area. "Better?"
"Yeah, thanks. I had to put some of my stuff back on," Clint said, shrugging. He hadn't bothered with the shirt, vest or any protective gear. "Any place to bed down for a while?"
"Yeah, this is an apartment," Bucky said, getting to his feet. "There might be some bathrobes if we take a look."
"I'd walk around in a towel if you don't care," Clint said with a smile. "But I wouldn't want to offend Tash's sensibilities or make you all jealous."
"Or maybe you'd be jealous," Bucky laughed.
Clint wrinkled his nose. "Hardly. Yours is dead."
"Still active."
"Is it really? Gross."
The laughed and Natasha rolled his eyes. "Boys."
"Some things never change," Bucky replied with a grin. "I was always this good."
"This much a dork, you mean?" she taunted.
"Says the giant dork," Clint teased.
Natasha rolled her eyes and headed toward the bathroom to wash off the dried blood. "And just for that," she called out, one arm raised to point behind her, "you can finish cleaning the arrows I rescued for you."
Clint had a few colorful curses in response, which had the others laughing. Natasha first stood under the shower in her cat suit, the easiest way to wash off all of the vampire blood that had dried into the Kevlar weave. Once the water swirled clear, she turned it off and peeled out of the suit and under things beneath it. She looked at her reflection in the foggy mirror, the way everything was blurred and soft, yet still vaguely looking like herself. Was that all her life was meant to be, then? Killing dead things, washing away every trace of it, then going back out again to do more of the same? She already had nightmares enough for ten lifetimes. When did it ever get to end?
Blowing out a breath to silence those maudlin thoughts, she went back into the shower, snapping the curtain shut. She still had to wash the blood out of her hair and off of her face.
She knew who it was that opened the door just as she turned the water back on. "You're pretty sure of yourself."
"More like hopeful," Bucky replied. "Clint went to bed, if that helps."
"It does."
Pause. She could imagine him biting his lip, and found herself biting her own in response, desire starting to curl low in her belly. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. He had to hear its staccato rhythm.
"So...?"
"You need washing, too, don't you? Come in."
He came in fully clothed as she had been at first, eyeing her hungrily. His mouth sought hers, hands roaming over her body as she started to undo his clothes. "I wasn't that messy," he murmured against her mouth, hands sliding down to caress her ass. "But I can be."
Natasha dropped the sodden clothes to the bottom of the tub. "This is your place, isn't it? It's not a random place you found."
"I've got this as a safe house, the spot underground where I took you, and one other place." He groaned when she yanked off his jeans and tighty whities. "I'll have to take you there sometime."
"Just shut up and kiss me," she growled, pulling his head down.
"Yes, ma'am," he teased before kissing her.
Bucky brought both hands beneath her, lifting her up to make it easier for him to kiss her. One hand slid around to her front, letting him finger her folds and entrance. She gasped into his mouth when he hit her clit, and the man was clever enough to stay there, rubbing at her until she dug her nails into his shoulders. Her kisses were frantic and her thighs quivered around his waist. When she couldn't even maintain the kisses, she tucked her head against his neck and shuddered, her whole body shaking. "Oh, God," she moaned against his skin, mouth open.
"I've got you," he returned, fingers not stopping. "C'mon, Natasha."
Her fingers tightened further, and maybe her nails were breaking skin. "Harder. Just a bit, just-" She stopped, breaking off and biting his shoulder to muffle her cries as she came.
"You like it rough?" he asked, sounding aroused. His fingers kept at the same rhythm and pressure, hoping to coax another orgasm out of her. At her nodding against his shoulder, he grinned. "I do, too. Do your worst, Natasha."
She gasped when he pressed her against the tiled wall, his erect cock pressed against her but just outside her body. Bucky kept using his fingers on her, getting her slippery and aching with the need to have him inside her. She raked her nails down his back and bit his shoulder as she moaned. It felt so good, especially after such a long time without, and Natasha bit down hard enough to draw blood.
To her surprise, there was no coppery tang in her mouth. The blood was more like dry wine, and she curled her tongue around the taste of him. Was this how vampires felt when they fed?
The bite made him groan in pleasure. "Do I get to mark you in return?" he groaned, sliding his fingers inside of her.
"Only if you erase it after."
Bucky shifted her so that she could help guide his cock into her. She sank down onto his length with a sigh of pleasure and relaxed onto it. "It's been too long."
"Definitely," he replied, voice strangled. "Remember what I said about sensory overload?"
"Yeah."
"Holy shit, this alone is amazing," Bucky breathed.
"Try moving."
When he did, they both hissed at the sensation. It didn't take long for him to pick up speed, to kiss her as if his life depended on it, to use long and deep strokes to make Natasha whine with need. She tilted her head back, gasping at the bursts of pleasure shooting through her. She could feel Bucky's body tense, then rhythm grow faster and harder as he came close himself. He muffled his groans in her skin, mouth open against her throat. Then as the shudders began, his teeth cut her skin and his tongue lapped at her blood. He groaned, throaty and deep, then pressed his mouth over the wound to drink deeply. The cuts had been so swift, she barely felt anything. Now she could feel the suction as he drank, but otherwise there was no dizzying euphoria. When his tongue dragged wetly over her neck, she knew he was sealing the wound.
Bucky sagged heavily against her, pressing her uncomfortably into the wall. "God. I can't..."
She gently carded her fingers through his hair. "That good?"
He gave her a goofy grin. "Better."
"You sure know how to stroke a girl's ego."
"Among other things."
Natasha laughed and let her legs fall from his waist. "Look at you. Such a charmer," she teased.
He rinsed off first and told her to leave the sodden mess in the tub when she was done. She admired the muscled planes of his body; he had been in fantastic shape prior to his death. Once he was out of the room, she cleaned herself in earnest, especially since his come was streaked with blood on her thighs. Messy, but all good sex tended to be.
She couldn't help but smile goofily herself. It had been a good night after all.
***
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To chapter Four - Emotional Connections