he was the one • winterwidow

⊱ ten ⊰

- this love / maroon 5 -

Eventually, Natasha emerged fully dressed from the bathroom, having set her clothes out on the side last night before they went to the bar. Ignoring the retorts from Clint about the time she took in the morning and heading out the door with her current temporary roommates.

Clint walked ahead, nearly skipping down the stoned pathway and descending the steps to the pool area ahead of them, near the entrance to the dining area where they would soon be sitting for breakfast and across from the pool and balcony section which overlooked the various sized mountains on the island.

Nat leaned in close to Sharon as they followed the overly excited man-child, voice low as she did so. "Remember the deal we had. You know, Barton-in-pool?"

Sharon jabbed at Natasha's side in response, shaking her head as she did so but unable to prevent her lips curving slightly into a smile. "Later..."

Matching her expression, the redhead bumped affectionately into her side before picking up the pace down the stairs, almost at Clint's side. To Sharon, everything seemed to happen in slow motion: a designated point in time that she simply could not stop happening.

One moment, the pair seemed to be having as normal conversation people like them could have. The next, the male out of them was thrown off balance, limbs at all different kinds of angles as he slipped through the waters surface on his side.

Jumping almost straight out, Clint sent Nat what could only be described as a melodramatic gasp as he shook the liquid out of his hair, head shaking side to side almost aggressively.

"Shit, Clint, you're like a dog." Natasha laughed, arms stretching out to shield her face with her hands.

"Yeah," He shoved her lightly as her words were followed by more laughter. "A handsome human dog with great hair."

Sharon, now having caught up with the two with a both amused and disappointed look, seemed to drain of any sympathy she had for Barton. "Nah. Just a dog."

"Bitch." After he spoke, panic began to rise in his expression. As if he had just followed a horrific realisation. His hand rose suddenly to the back of his ear, before he turned to look in the deep waters of the pool. Nothing.

Once he turned back around, a purple device was in Nat's hand, stretched out for him to take. A sigh of relief fell past his lips as he took the hearing aid from her and attached it back to himself, switching it on to listen out clearly once more.

"Removed it before you fell. You know, just in case," Nat smiled at him. "Didn't think it would take you that long to realise."

"Hey," Now defensive, Clint pointed a finger at her. "My ears could've been muffled by the water. Takes a while to realise I'm actually hard of hearing."

As per usual, Sharon shook her head, almost scolding tone mocking the pair as she spoke. "Can you guys hurry up? I'm starving."

"Not sure Clint would be allowed in there dripping wet."

"Watch it, Romanoff."

✧★✧

Natasha thought about death a lot. Not because she was scared of it or wanted it, but because she was intrigued by it. Given she had been trained to kill, death was something that followed her around like a lost puppy. But seeing him each night seemed to make everything dark like death in her life disappear. Like he was her anchor, though she'd barely known him a week. Hell, she didn't know his name yet.

"Back again, I see?"

The evening was quick to roll around and Natalia didn't know if she was scared, excited, or borderline confused. Most likely a sickening mix of all three.

"Maybe I just like seeing you."

After seeing his now familiar face, all those thoughts disappeared. The nervous feeling that previously weighed in her stomach seemed to evaporate as her elbows met the hard wood of the counter.

"So," Her voice was sweet, but the bartender was quick to tell the mischief behind it as he pressed his hands against the surface. "Do I get a name today?"

He tilted his head at her. "Whatever name you want, Doll."

"Call me that again and you'll lose your limbs, I can assure you that much." She threatened, small red straw of her cocktail reaching her rose coloured lips, which matched the colour of the plastic.

He chuckled lowly, a sound that rang through the back of her mind and vibrated down her throat, almost sending shivers through her if Nat didn't know how to regain her posture on impact.

"James," He nodded, lips tightening briefly before he spoke again. "I prefer Bucky. Only very few people call me that and I'd appreciate if you could be one of them."

"Bucky," Natasha repeated, his name like sugar on her tongue. "How'd you get that nickname."

James smiled, pushing the next two glasses toward her. "That's a story for our next meeting, Nat."

"So I've also reached nickname level then?" She teased, taking hold of the extra glasses.

Bucky sent her a small wink before picking up his drying towel as always, throwing it over his shoulder. "We'll see. I'll see you."