Chapter Text
"I bet you know all the verses of the National Anthem," Sam said, his voice laced with equal parts fondness and ridicule.
"I assure you, I don't," Steve replied, laughter in his voice.
"Well, you should. It should be in your job description."
Natasha was tempted to join in, but she stayed looking out the window, her back to the room.
"Yeah, well." The sofa he and Sam sat in creaked and she didn’t have to turn around to see Steve shrugging.
"Tasha does," said Clint.
Natasha downed the last of her wine and walked over to where Clint sprawled on a two-seater sofa. She leaned over the back of it, putting her arms around him in a loose choke hold. "We talked about this. You don't reveal my spy secrets and I don't kill you in your sleep."
"Come on. You can trust your friends with your secrets." He turned his face to her and she could smell the beer on his breath.
"Yeah, friends," she said and didn't look over at the armchair where Barnes sat.
It had sounded like a great idea when Steve had invited her to dinner a few days ago. He was a good cook and Sam was always entertaining to be around. Even with Barnes as a living reminder of what she no longer had, it could have been a nice evening.
Then Clint had returned from a mission that had ended badly. And he always dealt with that like the puppy dog he looked like when he had turned up at her door – by needing constant reassurance and contact. It was hard enough not reacting to the ghost from her past, but having Clint needing to touch her all the time while the ghost watched? It made Natasha feel like she was cheating on a man who didn’t even remember her.
"I'm gonna need evidence to believe that. Sing the last verse." Sam said, interrupting her and Clint's staring contest.
“And how will you make sure I’m not just making stuff up?” She sat down on the armrest, dangling the empty glass in front of her.
“Uh,” Sam replied and waved his phone at her, text surrounded by images of stars and stripes on the screen.
Steve took the phone from him and began to read, frowning slightly at the screen like it offended him. He clearly hadn’t been lying when he said he didn’t know the rest of the verses.
“She can also name all the states and the state capitals.” Clint sounded proud.
“Remind me never to play Trivial Pursuit with you,” Sam said. “Why do you know that stuff?”
Barnes snorted. It was so unexpected that everyone turned to look at him. He shrugged one shoulder, a wry smile on his lips. “Isn’t it obvious? She used to be a Russian spy. Know your enemy an’ all.”
“Ten points to the former Russian assassin,” Clint said, pointing his bottle at Barnes.
Barnes tipped his beer at Clint and shot a tight smile back. Then he saw Natasha looking at him and the smile disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.
“We’re not even playing and I’m still behind,” Sam sighed.
“And I’m not nearly drunk enough for this. Everybody up for a refill?” she asked and got up.
The kitchen was cool and mercifully empty of puzzling, former assassins. Natasha leaned against the counter, breathing in deeply a couple of times before she went to the fridge.
Barnes hadn’t given any indication that he remembered her or that he saw her as anything other than Steve’s friend. True love’s kiss wouldn’t bring her Soldier back, because this wasn’t a goddamn fairytale. Besides Bucky Barnes had his friend and a good portion of his memories back, the Soldier hadn’t had any of that. No, it was kinder to leave him to figure out how to be a person again. Maybe when he started looking like he slept more than a few hours each night and stopped freezing at unexpected noises she would tell him about their past. Maybe.
Grabbing five beers, Natasha headed for the door, pushing it open with her hip. She startled when a figure moved back just outside it and one of the bottles slipped from her grasp. The wine had her warm and loose, but it didn’t excuse the way heat curled in the pit of her stomach when metal clinked against glass.
Great, she had managed to not think about those fingers all evening. All that effort for nothing.
“Thank you,” she said, amazed at how calm her voice sounded.
He nodded once in acknowledgement and handed her the bottle. She took a half-step back and to the side, and moved around him to join the others.
The rest of the evening went uneventfully, even when Clint tried to make up for the two of the group who couldn’t get drunk. He needed an arm around the waist to steady him when they walked down the stairs to the waiting cab.
“Have I told you how great your ass looks in those jeans?” he said when she opened the door of the cab for him.
“Flattery won’t get you into them.”
“I hate to contradict you, but…”
“Believe me when I tell you that your inept flirting did more harm than good.” Natasha closed the door after them and leaned back in the seat. Movement caught her attention and she shifted to get a better look. A half-smoked cigarette landed on the pavement and she followed its path back up to Steve’s apartment where a silhouette pulled a window close. Only one of the apartment’s occupants smelled of smoke, but his knowledge of her past relationship with Clint should matter as little to her as with the rest.
Jesus, this wasn’t high school; she needed to get a grip on herself.
“Can’t blame a man for trying.”
“I can. And I will.”
He chuckled and got comfortable on the seat beside her, leaning his head against her shoulder. “Why is it that every time I’m out of the country something blows up or, you know, people get new roommates?”
“Maybe if you stayed around for longer it wouldn’t keep happening.”
“Steve seems happy, though.”
“He does. It’s nice.”
He remained silent for a while, and then said, “You cleared him first, right?”
She shifted, giving him a pointed look.
He raised his hands in mock surrender. “It’s just that for someone who usually keeps an eye on everybody, you spend a lot of time not looking at him.”
"He doesn’t like being watched. I was being polite.” It wasn’t a lie. She just didn’t add that she kept her eyes off Barnes, because when he caught her looking at him he closed off, his face turning to an unreadable mask. It felt like a knife in her heart every single time. It was worse than when they’d wiped him and he’d looked at her without recognition, because this time it was by his own choice.
Clint shrugged like he didn’t buy it, but fell silent, letting her brood in silence. Natasha had never told him about how she’d trained with the Winter Soldier or how intimate their relationship had become. It wasn’t his or anyone else’s business. Now she almost wished she had, with him around again it was a heavy burden to carry on her own.