"Because y'all were so cute." Sam giggled, ignoring Steve's deadpan look and smiling at Natasha's grin.
"You know, they say that if you want to know what people are afraid of losing, watch what they photograph." Natasha chimed, earning a sincere look from Sam. That's deep.
Steve thought back to the album in his apartment, probably still sitting on the dinner table. All those years' worth of photos… Just thinking about how vulnerable it was made him anxious. If I lost them…
Bucky grimaced. "I'm a one hundred year old assassin. I'm not cute." he retorted, taking a sip of the drink again.
Tony laughed a little bit.
Steve hid his own shy smile; He is cute. Still. Sam laughed, That was…supposed to be funny? His smile faltered, Oh–
Natasha smiled, trying to decide if she should agree with Sam. "You both were cute. The situation was cute." She shrugged, trying not to smile too much, "Это заставило всех улыбнуться."
Bucky grimaced at Natasha. "Моя цель не в том, чтобы заставить всех улыбаться." He replied, shaking his head a little bit. He ran a hand through his hair, a few strands falling into his eyes.
"Это не плохо.," She offered a sympathetic smile, remembering how hard it was for her to adjust to having these people as her family. It was a process, and Bucky would need all the kindness they could offer.
"Вы заставляете Стива улыбаться, это хорошо. И мы рады, что вы с нами." Natasha smiled, eyeing a sleepy-looking Sam.
Bucky shrugged, then glanced at Steve at her comment. "Я не уверен, что это хорошо. Я собираюсь навредить ему в конце концов." He replied slowly, looking at Natasha again.
"Это невозможно," Natasha smiled softly, remembering his many visits to the Smithsonian and the way he looked at pictures of him. The look in his eyes wasn't of a man who missed his friend, it was the look of someone longing for his other half.
"Почему вы так думаете? Ты так много значишь для него. Я думаю, что вы будете делать наоборот." Nat sighed, shifting in her seat, "Баки, он немного … сломлен, и я думаю, что ты такой же. Это долгий путь, и быть рядом друг с другом поможет. Я обещаю."
"Я просто солдат, Наташа. Не … не тот, кто может быть таким хорошим и полезным. Я могу сражаться, умирать и истекать кровью, но я не … Я не хорош для него. Я действительно … я так не думаю." Bucky replied slowly, shaking his head and not quite looking at Nat. His eyes flashed to Steve again, then back to Natasha.
"Но ты не хочешь остаться? Разве ты не хочешь быть хорошим для него? Потому что ты, я не знаю, как заставить тебя понять–" Natasha sighed, hoping she wouldn't say the wrong thing. She looked at Steve, who offered her an encouraging smile in her conversation with Bucky, "Ты больше, чем просто солдат для Стива. Ты для него все, даже если он не для тебя. Он когда-то был."
"Наташа, я … я не знаю. Меня послали убить его. Просто потому, что я не … все, что нужно, это правильная последовательность слов, и я сделаю все, что угодно человек хотел, чтобы я. Все, что угодно." Bucky replied slowly.
"Но вы не хотите этого делать. Вы чувствуете что-то, что бы это ни было … для него. Разве ты не видишь? Он скорее умрет, чем снова сразится с тобой. Ты спас его в тот день, помнишь?" Natasha spoke slowly, pausing between the questions and sighing, "Мы оба несем бремя нашего прошлого. Вопрос в том, готовы ли вы поделиться этим с ним на будущее?"
Bucky shifted in his seat. "Да я вижу. Я просто … я не знаю, готов ли я к этому." He hesitated. "Я не хочу причинять ему боль, но … я не знаю, есть ли способ защитить его от меня."
"Я понимаю, если вы не готовы. Это … много для обработки," Natasha nodded, "Но он не нуждается в защите от тебя. Он знает, что все сложно, и вы должны доверять мне, когда я говорю, что это хорошо, что вы здесь с нами."
"Да, может быть и так, но … я не знаю. Если я не могу доверять себе, как он может?" Bucky replied simply, shaking his head slightly.
"У него есть вера," Natasha shrugged, "И Вера … Может быть, это означает что-то большее, что-то, что мы еще не можем понять или осознать. Вера - это то, что мы переживаем … это выходит за пределы поколений, времени и понимания." She looked around the room, smiling with a quiet fondness of the people around her, "Faith." Natasha said, "Sometimes that's all you need."
"Да, может быть. Но я не такой. Я не могу быть больше." Bucky replied. He glanced over at Steve again, chewing on his lower lip uncertainly.
"Я не понимаю, почему вы так думаете." She shook her head, "Тебе нужно понять - ты уже тот человек.
Natasha glanced at Steve and back to Bucky, grateful that he'd opened up like this but feeling a little guilty for talking in a different language.
"Тот факт, что вы здесь, для него важнее, чем вы думаете. И…" She smiled, "You should talk about this with Steve, sorry."
"Я просто не …" At her words, he nodded. "Alright. Maybe…not now." He took a sip of his drink, unsure why he had opened up quite so much.
Natasha smiled at the group, glancing at the time on her phone, "It's getting a bit late, anyways." She nodded, moving from her seat to slowly peel a tired Sam off and up onto his feet. "Thanks for having us," Nat smiled again, trying to steadily guide Sam to the coatrack.
Tony nodded. "Yeah, no problem." He replied. "If you need to stay the night because you're too drunk to drive, there are safe bedrooms." He got up, and drained the rest of his glass.
"Thanks, Tony, but I'm good." Bruce got his jacket on, along with his shoes.
"We'll get a cab," Nat smiled and tugged her coat on. Steve slowly got up, watching the static blur his vision for a second before collecting some empty glasses and setting them by the sink.
"…But I wanna sleep." Sam protested lazily, reluctantly trying his shoelaces as slow as possible.
Bucky finished his glass, standing to put his own glass by the sink.
Tony nodded. "Alright." He replied with a smile.
Natasha thanked Tony again before slowly moving into the hall, Sam following her and talking in protesting incoherencies. Steve smiled from the kitchen, waving goodbye as the rest of the group trickled out into the hall. At least Natasha and Bucky got to talk and– oh. –The kiss… He rubbed his eyes, The damn kiss…
Bucky glanced at Steve for a moment, then down at his feet, sighing softly and trying to chase away the memories of that kiss. That damn kiss. He sighed softly.
"It's late," Steve chuckled, smiling at the warm buzz throughout his body, "You tired?" His gaze flickered to Bucky, thinking back to their little nap.