A Sorta Fairytale

I Tried to Downplay It With a Bet About Us

"Alright." Settling back against her chair, she observed him carefully. He was wearing a few layers, which was appropriate, given the weather. The gloves that provided a way to hide his prosthetic were a little more noticeable, but nothing too distracting. His hair was long still, but not as unkempt as it had been when he was the Soldier. He had been paler then, too; he looked healthier now. The stubble on his face didn't stand out quite so much, and the shadows under his eyes were diminished.

Perhaps the biggest change went beyond the physical – he no longer exhibited the same intensity, the same self-assurance and deadly nature. Whether he'd returned to being a regular soldier instead of an assassin was unclear. Barnes wasn't quite Steve's Bucky anymore, but was certainly a softer version of HYDRA's Winter Soldier. Though the layers made it less obvious, he had gained weight and didn't have the same hard edges HYDRA had forced on him, both literally and figuratively. She only hoped his instincts were still sharp enough to serve him on this mission.

"What?" he asked, raising his eyes from the table to meet hers.

"Just thinking," she answered quickly with a disarming smile.

"Assessing," he corrected resignedly. "I can do this. I'm not going to screw it up for you, Natalia."

She blinked to show surprise. "That's not it," she insisted gently.

His eyebrow lifted skeptically. "Then what?"

Whether he was more perceptive than most people, or just more accustomed to being lied to, it appeared that deceiving him would be a greater challenge than usual. The Red Room officials had rarely been truthful, and she didn't imagine his handlers had been any more so. "I was just noticing how you've changed since, you know, you came back."

The waiter came before Barnes could respond, and she adopted a friendly face to request one of her favorites. At least, when she came to Russia. No one in the States ever made it quite right. Barnes said he'd have the same, and the man hurried off to put in their orders. Staring intently at his hands, clasped on the table, Barnes cleared his throat to get her attention.

"And?"

Momentarily at a loss, she offered a smile as she ran back over what she'd said. Oh. He wanted her assessment. That didn't seem like a good idea, unless she could safely couch it in positive terms. "You look ... better," she stated with a grin.

He looked up at her with a slight frown, then smiled tentatively. "You were staring at me for five solid minutes and that's all you came up with?"

Shrugging, Natasha leaned back languidly. "I like to be efficient, Barnes."

"Oh, I've heard your reputation," he replied, amused. He seemed more comfortable now, showing that emotion, than he had since they'd left the Avengers' facility. Good to see being with Steve wasn't the only thing that could bring it out.

"And what do they say about me?" she smirked, folding her arms over her chest.

"SHIELD's greatest asset, the Black Widow: beautiful, but deadly," Barnes stated loftily.

She'd heard it before, but most people emphasized the word "beautiful," instead of stressing "deadly." It was almost admiring the way he'd said it, which she would have to consider later. "Well, you know, you have to live up to your codename. Is it safe to assume that most of your missions were in the snow?"

The suggestion startled an actual laugh from him, and she saw a rare glimpse of Bucky Barnes himself. It was impossible not to join in, though Natasha quickly resumed a demure smile afterwards – keeping reactions at a distance was second nature to her.

"You know, it was usually cold," he agreed, with a real 1940s-cocky-soldier grin. It made him look, well, more handsome than she'd previously considered him. She could understand the stories Steve told a little better after seeing that smile.

"And it's not always winter in Russia. We do get summer, except maybe in the northern parts of Siberia," she said in a mock-serious tone.

Barnes – she wouldn't call him "Bucky" even if it seemed almost appropriate right now – turned his head to look out the window skeptically. "Is it summer right now?"

She snorted delicately. "It's fall, dear."

"Hmm." His brow furrowed in thought as the waiter brought their food. Whatever he had been thinking he kept to himself. "Looks good," he offered.

"It is," she assured him before digging in to see if it was as good as remembered. Maybe not quite, but close.

They ate in hungry silence for a few minutes – clearly Barnes' suggestion had been a good one. It was also good to blow off some steam after the long flight here, and a break for food was a good alternative to getting some sleep. Natasha had never been able to fall asleep easily on a mission, and certainly not for a short nap before the action. It was something for which she'd always envied Clint, who could fall asleep nearly immediately and be alert within moments of waking.

"You know," Barnes began, then paused uncertainly.

Natasha gave him an encouraging look over her bowl.

"I was just going to say... they would usually send me out during snow storms. Must have been hell on them, getting me there, just for some damn theatrics. But I guess I should be grateful my uniform was so warm," he said quietly, slowing moving his fork around the bowl.

Thinking of most of her attire on missions, Natasha couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy. To be warm was not a luxury that had often been afforded to her, even after she'd started working for SHIELD. "You don't need to be grateful to them for anything," she said flatly, a harsh edge coming to her tone unbidden.

Barnes looked up at her sharply, the corner of his lips twisting slightly upward before he focused on his food. "You're not grateful for anything from the Red Room?" he asked, seeming very interested in the answer despite not looking in her direction.

Taking a deep breath, she let go of the anger that boiled up sometimes. "The skills they taught me have saved my life plenty of times. But I wouldn't be in the situation where my life needed saving if it weren't for them. I was a poor orphan, yes, but I'm sure I would have managed as a civilian if I'd been given the opportunity."

"I'm sure you would have." His voice may have been soft, but there was no hesitation in the statement. She looked at him intently in attempt to read what he was thinking, but he kept his attention on the bowl in front of him.

Silence extended between them and she made no effort to break it while she finished her dinner. It was still delicious, and she was still warm and comfortable and not being shot at. For a little while, at least, so she intended to enjoy it. If Barnes shared that mindset, it wasn't evident. He finished before her and stared out the window until she was ready.

"Shall we?" she asked, sliding out of her chair. He gave her a curt nod, so she led the way back to the car, running over what needed to be done before the mission tonight.

u