Call It What You Want: Home Series 1 (Trans!Steve and Pan!Bucky Summer AU)

One

Natasha was dramatic. Everyone knew that. It was right there in one's face as soon as they met her. With her distressed black tights that had runs and holes and her black faux leather miniskirt and her neon pink cute but psycho tee that was torn strategically so it could hang off her shoulder. And if all that wasn't enough, Natasha liked her makeup theatrical. Thick black eye makeup to accentuate her green eyes that made it impossible to look anywhere else. Especially when she was glaring.

Not that Steve really minded. He preferred it, actually. With everyone looking at Natasha, it kept them from looking at him. And even before Steve started officially transitioning, he didn't like attention. So, it was a good pairing, in Steve's opinion.

Currently, Natasha was sitting on top of Steve's toilet with her hair damply gathered, only being held in place by the hair-dye that she amply applied by herself. She told Steve that she needed to, "get away," which she seemed to have to do a lot. And usually, it meant going to Steve's house.

Taking a long drag from her cigarette, Natasha continued her rant, "I swear that conniving, manipulative cunt did this on purpose."

Sitting in the doorway of the bathroom and bedroom -- as lookout -- Steve gave her a pointed look. Natasha knew that Steve didn't like foul language in general, but especially not that word. Steve ripped a bite off his black licorice with his teeth, and said, "It's not that bad." Then, Steve reminded, "You said that you needed to get away."

"What?" Natasha questioned while rapidly blinking. Almost like a robot trying to compute, but failing. When Steve didn't change his comment to one that Natasha wanted to hear, Natasha took another drag from her cigarette. Turning her head, she blew the smoke out the window and complained, "I didn't say that I wanted to go to Arkansas. Who the fuck wants to go to Arkansas?"

Steve shrugged, "It's still somewhere new. Somewhere far away, too."

"But," Natasha's face furrowed into one of disgust, "It's not the kind of place that I want to get away to."

"It's still a place," Steve attempted to reason. Shrugging again, Steve offered, "It might be fun. You'll be with family."

Natasha picked at one of the holes in her tights and reminded, "I haven't seen them in years."

"Yeah, but it's --"

"Not the same," Natasha interrupted and softly stated, "You wouldn't know, now would you?"

Steve focused on the chipping paint from the doorframe and decided not to say anything. Taking another bite from the licorice, Steve admitted to himself that Natasha had a point. Steve was lucky in that aspect of his life. His parents were in a loving relationship and were thankfully still alive. Plus, Steve didn't have any cousins for an evil soon-to-be step-parent to ship him off to for the summer while they renovated his childhood home to sell before they married.

Then, Natasha perked. Her idea giving her so much renewed energy that Steve could practically feel it rippling through the air to him. Steve looked over at Natasha and watched as she stubbed out her cigarette on the open windowsill. Excitedly, Natasha stated, "You should come with me."

Only it didn't sound like a suggestion, it sounded more like a plea.

"I don't know," Steve trailed off, taking another bite of the black licorice.

"Steven," Natasha whined as she dropped down onto her knees and theatrically slid across the bathroom tiles to him. Clasping her hands together and pouting her plump lower lip, Natasha theatrically begged, "Please? You're my savior! My best friend! My precious rage-filled dumpling!"

Playfully, Steve rolled his eyes, but before he could answer, Natasha continued. Giving Steve the biggest puppy dog eyes that she could conjure, she pleaded, "Stevie Poo?"

"Okay, fine," Steve giggled, caving, just like he always did.

Raising her arms in sweet victory and tilting her head back as though she was praising Jesus, Steve rolled his eyes. Deciding that going to a place where he didn't know anyone, Steve knew that he'd need some comfort food, so he added, "But I need the biggest bag of black licorice they make!"

"Deal," Natasha readily agreed just as the timer dinged. Natasha stood and raced over to the bathtub. Removing the shower head, Natasha got the water ready before kneeling on the floor and rinsing the dye out of her short bob. Wiggling her hips and happily singing an obscure indie song that Steve wasn't even sure was an actual song, but tapped his feet to nonetheless.