We Can Have This.

Chapter 7

Steam filled the air in the bathroom. They'd been sat amongst the descending hot water for so long that the visibility was shrouded with vapour. Within his arms, Natasha's sobs had subsided. Her breathing had calmed; Bucky had no idea how long they'd been sitting here.

"Let's get you to bed, yeah?"

He felt her nod against his chest. Gently, Bucky stood, holding her with his vibranium arm; she supported herself, nuzzling into his chest and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He turned off the water and exited the shower, grabbing a towel and placing it over her like a blanket. He walked her to his bedroom. He lowered her to the bed, wrapping the towel about her further. She looked exhausted, her expression absent with a far-off look, her eyes red-rimmed, her lips dark and full compared to the pallor of her skin.

He crouched before her, "You don't have to be brave, Natasha. It's OK."

Despite his proximity and without meeting his eyes, she asked, "Was this what it was like for you? What it felt like?"

"After the snap?" he asked before shaking his head, "No. It didn't feel like anything. I knew it was happening when it happened, and then nothing, and then I was back like nothing had changed except everything had. That's all."

Now she looked at him, "No, I meant every time you came out of the ice?"

"Oh," Bucky lowered his head briefly, nodded a little, and then looked back up at her. "I don't know what you're going through, Natasha, how it feels. I can't even imagine, but no, I don't expect so. Coming out of the ice between missions was cold, confusing, and painful, but only physically, and that didn't last long. The mind control numbed everything. I had no life to remember, so waking up like that, doing my mission, and being put back didn't disturb me. I wasn't really human, no emotions, a tool, a weapon. It's all I knew; if you have no hopes, you don't consider your life to be miserable or wish for something else. It only affected me when my memories returned, which didn't happen until sometime after the ice. It's not the same. Nowhere near."

She studied him calmly; she seemed detached, drained, all her emotion spent.
"You've made a puddle on your floor."

Bucky looked down; she was right. His sodden clothes had dripped onto his wooden floors, creating a small pool about his feet.
"Oh shit. Right, give me a sec."

He stepped back and started removing his dripping clothes. Why had modern fashion made jeans so tight? They were hard enough to peel off when dry; they were nearly impossible to remove soaking wet. Nevertheless, he struggled with them as quietly and composedly as possible.

"Why am I here, James?"

There it was, the question no one had wanted to answer. But, her staying here with him, it had been inevitable that he would have to be the one to answer it. He took a deep breath, formulating the answer as he pulled off his t-shirt before he replied.

"Because Steve returned the soul stone. The exchange was reversed; at least, that's what we think. Honestly, we're not sure." That was the truth, and it wasn't much.

He started looking for dry boxers and some way to stay in her vicinity without getting naked or at least exposing himself. Bucky didn't want to leave Natasha like this, not even for a second, but her and potentially him being naked was a problem. Whatever it was between them was complicated enough; being nude would bring that issue to the forefront, and right now, her well-being had to be his priority.

"No. Not why am I back from the dead, I mean, why am I here with you? I know everyone agreed on it for my safety and theirs, but I don't need you to be my keeper, James. Tell me there's more to me being here than that."