Jamaica is beautiful.
You laid out in the sun by the pool with a view of the ocean, not care in the world.
There are certain countries out there that are perfect for going unrecognized or when you do, you're not flooded with attention, it's just a fan or two here and there. Some have laws against paparazzi that help protect you and keep your location private and some places, people just don't go about exploiting it for personal gain. You loved meeting fans out randomly, they felt like your friends most of the time, but it was hard to always know that whenever you asked them to wait to post, they'd honor it. And after only one time where within hours TMZ was swarming your resort, Johnny 'suggested' handing out NDAs to everyone you crossed paths with before he, himself started taking it into practice. It made the interactions awkward and less friendly – practically ruining the experience sometimes.
But right now, you didn't worry. You sent out a few pictures on social media, thanking everyone for coming to see you on tour and supporting you at home, promising to be on stage again in a few days. Then you posted again with some random pictures you collected between your mom's house and visiting Tony and then stopping by your place in New York before flying off again.
"Have you written anything?"
Your mind had just settled, right after smiling at the little interactions between you and some of the fans' comments, and then your face fell as the pressure all came flooding back with that one irritating question.
"Nope."
"Last time you were in Jamaica for two weeks and you wrote over three dozen songs."
"And now I have three days and you're here." You boldly shot back, and you heard Johnny sigh, but then his wife, Marie, was calling from the other side of the pool, so he left you alone.
About an hour later, you got thirsty enough to pad your bare feet back into the house you were renting after wrapping a towel around yourself, the walls and door facing the pool made of glass, so you could see Bucky and Natasha talking in the kitchen before you got inside.
"Everything alright?" Bucky asked, nodding towards you, and you nodded back, going to the fridge for a water.
"Hey, so I know you don't like me," You were clearly talking to the one who wouldn't make eye contact with you, "But um, we should probably go over some basics."
Bucky's eyes flicked from you to Natasha and then back before speaking for them both, "Agreed."
"It's twelve countries and nineteen shows in twenty-seven days, so we'll be on the move a lot," You explained, wringing your hands a bit, "And um, I have Paul, but I'd like someone posted outside my dressing room and someone on the ground in the pit with him. And whenever I'm out, I'd like one or two of the three of you with me, Johnny'll probably be the one to set up who goes where."
There was a quiet agreement, Bucky seemed to have already thought of where he'd be – maybe they discussed it after assuming or maybe it was because Natasha was clearly not a people person, you didn't know – but now the redhead was studying you. Your palms itched.
"Has anyone ever tried to kill you?"
This was pretty much the first time she really spoke directly to you without sounding put off by what you were saying after finding out who you are, "What?"
"Threats?" She raised her eyebrows and it felt like she was nearly mocking you, "Crazy stalker fans?"
"I had a stalker once," Bucky piped in, but Natasha didn't flinch as you furrowed your eyebrows, trying not to laugh as he continued, "She was cute. Got upset when she realized I was married to a man. We still text sometimes."
Natasha groaned loudly with her face buried in her hands, elbows leaning on the counter, "Please stop talking."
"You always complain when I say something, but when I'm silent I'm 'too quiet, it's creepy' make up your damn mind!"
"Maybe," She dragged the word out a bit, "If you didn't talk so much shit whenever you opened your big, fat-"
"Four."
Their attentions snapped to you, and it was Bucky's turn to ask, "What?"
"That I know of," You added, "But I have restraining orders and one's in jail. It was towards the beginning of all this."
Natasha gave you a once over, but you couldn't tell what she was thinking before, "I'm guessing they didn't just 'coincidentally' bump into you a few times a week at random locations, then."
"Hey!" Bucky complained, "She showed up to my house once!"
You laughed along with Natasha and the two of you shared a look before she suddenly froze, stowing her emotions away once again to look like a pissed off pale little-
"Well, Johnny sent us your schedule," Her tone was cold again and you resisted rolling your eyes, "And I have to say, I think it's dumb as shit to put us in a separate hotel with the band. Can't exactly protect you when we're ten blocks away," You opened your mouth to respond, but then she was continuing, "I get that you probably stay at fancier spots and don't want to slum it with your band and crew – and I'm not asking for a fucking room upgrade, just for your team to get their heads out of their asses."
"Chill." Bucky muttered, nudging her subtly, but she just huffed.
"I don't stay separate unless..." You frowned, your eyebrows pulled as you remembered, "It's for a stunt."
"A what?" Bucky asked, biting into a plum.
"Sometimes they have me going in or out of a hotel with some random guy for the paparazzi to make it look like we spent the night together, but," You waved it off, "I'm not scheduled for one until the Oscars, so that shouldn't be an issue."
"Aren't you dating that director guy?" Bucky asked curiously and you could feel Natasha's glare burning into you.
"That was so three months ago," You teased, "It's an Italian model right now, keep up!" You laughed as he chuckled, "But I think the breakup articles are already out or at least making the rounds. Long distance," You sighed in faux sadness, "It can be such a bitch."
He let out a loud laugh, surprised, "So who are you dating?"
You smirked, "Wouldn't you like to know?"
Natasha rolled her eyes and Bucky smiled at you, "I gotta admit, I was a fan of yours before we started this gig – your third album is my favorite, but your most recent is such a hit."
Natasha shot him a look of disgust, "Are you shitting me, Barnes?"
"What?" He scoffed, "Don't act like you're not the same!"
"Honestly, never even heard of her." She told him flatly and you didn't have a massive ego or anything, but like. That was quite the lie. For multiple reasons.
"Now who's shitting who?" He laughed loudly, "You've known Stark for five years and he's brought her up before – she's also literally one of the most famous singers in the world. Up there with Tay-"
"If you say Taylor Swift, I'll shoot you in the dick."
"Say it and I'll suck your dick." You blurted jokingly, making them both give you disgusted and shocked looks for very different reasons before you blushed, embarrassed, "Kidding. Obviously. Just a massive Taylor fan. Went on a road trip with her once. I fell on a cactus, and she pulled the needles right out of my ass before she puked up a purple Slurpee. Bonded us for life."
"Wow." They said in unison, their tones different.
"Anyway! Who's ready for Argentina?"
