At the compound, I like getting lost and not knowing where the freaking hell I’m at... There’s already so many rooms and a lot of them are just full which is fun because new hiding places for hide and go seek. I can also let my mind wander and let myself work with different materials. But since I wasn’t working desk duty, I was padding around in stirrups (those were freaking heaven sent - don’t tell Natasha) socks, a captain America shirt that makes Steve smile when he sees it. I can tell Thor's here because it’s gently raining outside per a small request...
I smile, taking a seat at one of the windows for a while until audible footsteps that usually are dead silent are walking past me with a gym bag and a redheaded assassin next to him. I catch myself staring for a second before pulling my gaze away, a little worry at the thought of getting caught by two assassins who could easily hide anyone’s body if they desired. I can hear footsteps continue and stop until a gentle hand touches mine, bringing my attention back to the ballerina redhead.
“Why don’t you come watch us?”
“....Can I have a hug?” I quietly request, feeling my hair pushed back behind my ear and a light touch around my waist. I rest my head in the crook of her neck for a second or two, a silent nightmare washed away for a little longer, before rejoining with the soldier with a warm smile.
“She tells me you used to dance.”
“For a semester in high school but I’m growing back into myself.”
“Do you know ballroom?” I smile.
“I’m a jack of many trades, Mr. Barnes and there’s more than meets the eye for me.” He nods.
“Duly noted.” I continue with them into the mirrored room, taking a seat next to the music box and holding my water bottle in my hands. They stretch and I feel like a child whose eyes watch the people on the stage in awe as they slowly start to dance. I move from spot to spot around the room until I watch Natasha call something in Russian and nod me over. I set the water bottle down and take the shrug off too, raising Bucky's eyebrows. “You understand Russian?”
“I can understand Natasha.” Natasha smiles at the cryptic answer before rearranging me into a dancers position and taking my hands. “I’m the dance partner once in a while, white wolf.” Natasha looks over at him and says something else in Russian that makes me smile even wider. “I’m not that flexible, hun.” Bucky looks between the two of us in hopes of some explanation until Natasha nudges me gently into a waltz. I smile, allowing myself to glide with the graceful assassin and glance over at Bucky. “I’ll dance with you next, pretty boy.”
“Pretty boy...?” Natasha’s hand squeeze brings me back to the dance, letting me twirl her once and catching a bit of a smile on her face. There are butterflies in my stomach and I try to let myself embrace it, taking a deep breath and letting myself continue until the transition is smooth and I’m dancing with a surprised Bucky. “How did you..?” I smile shyly.
“Jack of all trades, master of none, handsome.”
“Are you flirting with me?” He says with a cocked eyebrow and a amused expression on his face.
“Nicknames are a odd habit of mine, you’ll learn to find out which one is yours.”
“Soldier might be too blunt and I think Serge sounds too old. But all in due time.” He shrugs, continuing to dance with me, music playing along as we go around the room, ignoring the windows and mirrors. The song ends, dropping my hands as thunder crashes. I smile and glance over at Natasha, whose eyes watch me, watching my readable body language flow. “I have a idea. How do you feel about rain?”
“It’s cold and wet.” Bucky says bluntly.
“...” Natasha watches me, not saying anything.
“Sam said you were a wimp about the rain. Guess he was right.”
“....I'm going to kill that bird. I will WATCH.” I laugh.
“Give me a second to grab a hoodie.” After a small wardrobe change (I went for shorts and a hoodie), Natasha is still watching the weather as I barrel out past her, not bothering with shoes. The rain is still coming down in buckets as I get drenched in a matter of minutes. “Join me, my spider!” She rolls her eyes at the nickname and pads out to the porch, watching me run up to her, soaked hair in my face. “How did I do?”
“You missed a puddle, dear.” I jump back into the puddles, breath soaring in my chest as I squeal like a child, moving from puddle to puddle. As I turn back around to the porch, I see a little figure in a red and yellow raincoat and goulashes coming out to the edge of the porch, smiling out at me. “Come on, Morgan! The weather's great!” The little girl jumps in the puddles with me, happily giggling and smiling with me.
