Amnesia

C20: Orange Juice

When we got home, Natasha took a much needed shower and Steve and I sat down on the couch for a much needed break.

From our completely random and utterly sparatic contemplation of feelings to Natasha's new disaster, today has been, for lack of better words... a mess.

So we sat quietly on the couch watching supernatural from where we left off a few days ago, and everything was normal Bucky and Steve for a split second.

I leaned over on his shoulder, with the soft fabric of one of his favorite shirts brushing against my cheek. His hand slid down to mine and intertwined with my slightly larger fingers as we continued watching in solitary peace.

The soft warmth of his arm against mine filled me with a sense of serenity that I'd never felt before. For once in my life, I truly felt... home.

I was home.

This was my home.

He was my home.

I was so nice to finally have somewhere I actually belonged.

Right here in his arms, that's where I belonged.

I looked back to the show, watching the logo flash across the room. My gaze shifted from the tv over to a shadow I saw in the doorway.

Shit.

I forgot Natasha was here.

I pulled away from Steve quickly and started to stand up to 'go get some water' but Steve caught my arm as I stood up.

"Buck what's wrong?"

I blinked a few times at the doorway as Natasha was walking in, hoping that Steve would just let me go.

"Whatcha watching?" Her voice entered the room.

Steve closed his eyes slowly, and let my hand go in realization.

"Supernatural." I mumbled walking towards the kitchen.

"Oh I've always wanted to watch that show, just never had the time." She said waltzing over to the couch.

She sat down next to Steve, and I almost got mad, but I had no reason to be.

It's just Natasha.

She kept the distance between them, not getting too close and I could thank god for that.

When I got to the kitchen. I went to open the cabinet to get a glass, but there were no cups left.

"Steveeeeeee... you used the last cup and didn't wash it."

"Oops." He leaned his head back against the couch and smiled devilishly at me.

It took every instinct I had not to run over there and kiss that smug little grin off of his face. Instead I wound up smiling back in a way I didn't think was possible... it was a happy smile. I, James Buchanan Barnes, just felt happy... and smiled.

I turned away from him before I did something I would regret, and focused on my initial task. I opened the fridge and looked around, settling on a bottle of orange juice with a black S on the cap.