TELL ME A STORY ABOUT WOLVES;

@wintersappariticn / wintersappariticn.tumblr.com

i know how they go, all of them,
wolf dies, wolf is cut open, wolf is bone and wolf is blood and wolf is villain, always villain
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Night Technique

She knew that, she also knew that his talking to Steve would take time. It would have to be on his time, Steve’s too. But then she wondered if it might just need to happen, rip the Band-Aid off or it may not happen at all. She wanted them to talk, to make up for lost time, she remembered the times Steve would talk about his best friend, when she could get him to open up and how melancholy it made him. She could see similar in James sometimes, especially the times she mentioned Steve, shared some of her adventures she’d had with the good Captain with him… and she felt a little guilty that all this time she had known his best friend and had no idea. And she had no idea how to tell Steve that fact. But she knew she needed to.
However, for now she kept that to herself and refocused on the here and now, smiling at the offer of breakfast.
“Sounds like a plan.” She had gotten a little lost in her thoughts and it showed a little in her tone as she pulled out of her own head and back to being where she was, looking at familiar blue eyes. Eyes full of things that stole her breath and made her a little afraid at the same time.
She stood then. “And you’ll figure out what to say to him when you see him…” they both would, she figured, because how did one prepare for a conversation like that anyways?

James stretched, joints popping loudly, his arm whirling in time as he rolled his shoulders. “Are you tired of pancakes, yet?” he ventured in a hum as he pulled aside some apples in time with pulling out a cutting board.

“I mean I know you eat almost anything, but if you’re getting tired of pancakes, please lord let me know” he teased her as he moved to wash the apples after pulling the sticker off of them. He set about slicing and coring the apples before placing them on some plates. He peeked into the fridge and carefully took out the carton of eggs before he set them aside on the counter and dug around through their left overs for the carnitas from a few nights ago.

“Is a scramble okay?”

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Night Technique

It’s one of those conversations. An elephant in the room sort of thing, but as much as she wants and thinks he should go and talk to Steve she isn’t going to force it. He has to be ready when he is, and it’s his choice when that is. Tomorrow, a year from now, whenever and she would respect that, she would help him in any way she could through the process too. Even if he wanted no help at all.
“I know.” She pressed her lips to his cheek, then his forehead before smiling with a little chuckle. “Alright.” She kissed him again, slow and deep as though she intended to do so for hours. She loved that they could be like this and she fully intended to take advantage of it as much and as often as possible.
Slowly after a moment she pulled back, letting her forehead rest against his. “Shooting range is fun.” A little smirk played at the corner of her lips.

“It was a serious offer--” he mused, humming and chasing after her affection before letting his brow bump lovingly into her’s.

He was thankful to have her. Thankful she was so understanding and even more patient with him.

Another hum, and he pulls back to stretch lazily, leaning back and precariously laying back on the coffee table now. “I’ll find time to go to him... you know that right?” he ventured quietly. “I know he can’t stay in the dark forever, I just have no clue what I’m going to say--” he adds with a small shrug, looking up at her as she balanced on his knee.

The sun was rising now.

“What ever the case, let me make breakfast then we can go on a shooting range date--” James said it with a smile, and like it was the most normal thing in the world as he gently tapped Natasha’s sides so she’d stand.

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Night Technique

At first all of this was just talk, hearsay and nothing much else, but then he says one thing that grabs her attention fully. This isn’t about what ifs or jokes or lofty dreams, not now and she easily shifts the focus from herself and onto him.
“You haven’t… talked to Steve yet?” It’s a surprise and it catches her a little off guard. She’s got half the mind to slip off his lap to grab her phone and solve this now. But she doesn’t.
“I think you should do that.” There was an affirmative nod. He needed to do it as far as she was concerned. Both he and Steve needed it.
She considered something then, a compromise. “If I sign up for a class or two, will you finally call that idiot best friend of yours?” She leaned in, pressing a small kiss to his lips. “Please?”

He knew he shouldn’t have said anything, and he rubbed the back of his neck with a cool metal hand. “I mean... we were busy... in another country” he replies like that’s a good reason. He could’ve sent an encrypted message when ever he wanted. He’s happy when she doesn’t pull away, and he accepts the tempting kiss with a hum in his throat.

“Yeah, just... need to find the words” he admits. “Hey I’ve been reigniting and old romance with the previously lost love of my life isn’t exactly a way to kick off a meet-n-greet” James points out with a tiny forced smile. He rests his chin on her shoulder a little and takes a moment, “Another kiss might help?” he then suggests with a sly look. “Or going to a shooting range” he adds with a musing grin.

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He got a small look for his little joke, but it didn’t last long as she nodded.
“Both of my safe houses are. I don’t see why one has to hide in dark and dreary places.” She had done enough of that under the Red Room and after until Clint came along. She saw no reason to keep doing so.
“Whichever is fine.” She commented at first. “But you should probably rest, so field rations for now.” If it wasn’t for him bringing it up she wouldn’t have even thought about food. She often didn’t unless it was present to her, despite the fact she enjoyed food quite a lot.
She watched him move about, a little smile crossing her lips at the fact old habits died hard, but the familiarity was comforting. It was normal to her, to them to do what he was doing, to always be ready.

He nodded a little “You going to secure the perimeter?” he intoned a little roughly, but even so with a ginger smile. The adrenaline leaked away from his body now in waves, and he finally was sore and getting sleepy.

He took a moment and reached for her, wrapping around her so he could rest his head on her sternum, and listen to her heartbeat. She was good, he was on the mend and they were probably safe. He brushes some of her hair back from her face. “I’m gonna go crawl into the bed and sleep--” he announced to her then with a semi-pained smile now.

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Night Technique

She appreciates the care, the love in which he gives the age old photos. Pictures of another life, a long ago time. She tucked them back into their safe spot then sat the book back down on the coffee table before relaxing again, comfortable there in his lap.
That was something she hadn’t thought about at all and in some ways it felt like a strange suggestion.
“It might be a little weird?” She wasn’t sure, but she didn’t dislike the thought either and it would be something to do, a purpose beyond her usual things. A chance at some normalcy.
“Something to think about though.” She appreciated his support.
“And what about you? If I go and do that, what are you going to do with your free time?” She wondered then if he had some sort of hobby she had no clue about.

“I’ll take up underwater basket weaving” he replied with a grin at her. His metal thumb kneaded her leg gently as she settled against him. He then shrugged a little heavier. “I don’t know.” he smiles out, pushing her hair back from her eyes.

“Dog walking?” he intoned, “Maybe running.” he then suggests. What he should be saying is that he’ll go talk to Steve finally, and he sighs gently. “Or I could set up a coffee date or two with Steve?” he ventures with a softer smile. He is himself, there’s no question in that, he’s just worried about what comes after, because that means he’s one step closer to the public eye.

And that terrifies him.

“I mean that would be the right thing to do... not saying though, I’d miss any of your shows if you do join a class” he adds pridefully. “Oh I can make big signs--” he’s joking of course, “And flowers after every show?” he adds, nudging her.

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Well how could she argue with the fact they were good? She smiled, letting him have his way. She had only been teasing him anyways as she had little room to talk herself when it came to eating habits.
Safely tucked into the small apartment, Natasha only sought the light sources she would need. The kitchen and small dining area. This would honestly be the first time she’s patched up anyone here, herself included. But that didn’t mean she didn’t have the tools to do it, quite the contrary. Here, anywhere she might frequent she had the necessities to remove a bullet at all times.
She set to cleaning the wound first, focused on her task, lips pressing together in a thin line when she saw how deep it was. He would heal, but he would have to behave. She’d make sure he did too. She was quick with the task, too much practice at it and mostly on herself. Occasionally Barton.
“There we go.” She wrapped him up and placed a kiss against the bandage over the wound, her lips lingering briefly before she pulled away and began to clean up. “Try not to pop them please?” She implored.

James looked around as she worked, nose scrunching up a little as the needle dug into his skin the first time, but after that he managed to relax and let Natasha do her work. Then he smiled at the small kiss over the bandage and rolled his eyes.

“Aw, but that’s always fun--” he replied (predictably so maybe) and he helped her collect the trash and repack the kit. “This is a nice place” he hums, going over to the curtains and pushing aside one with his finger to briefly look around. Then James turned his view to the apartment itself. It smelled sweet, and he was sure the dust around here was actually bread flour. “You okay with field rations, or do you want me to try and cook something up?” he intoned finally, tossing the trash and moving his tactical gear into an easy pile to grab and get into. His bag by the door.

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Night Technique

His smile, she had no doubt what he was thinking and she moved then, slipping from his lap slowly to disappear for a moment into the bedroom. When she returned she held a worn book in her hands that he had seen many times around the apartment.
“I’m done for now.” She assured him and slipped back onto his lap as she had been before. Then she opened the book, the back of it and shifted the covered a little to pull two photographs from it.
“I’ve never shown anyone else these before.” Sitting the book aside she held the pictures out to him. “Since I could tell you were trying to imagine what I’d look like as a little girl in a tutu.”

James watches her take a book and he sits up a little and smiles as he tak the pictures carefully. He doesn’t question that she knew, because of course she knew what he was thinking. He looks them over, and smiles softly at them. At her.

Handing them back with care, James settles his hands on Natasha’s hips. “Thank you.” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to her sternum. He looks back at the pointe shoes. “Have you thought about... going to a class or something?” he asks gingerly. “I mean, I know it’s no Bolshoi--” he chuckles a little deep in his chest, “But maybe it’s something to consider? And I would love to see you dance in a show is all I’m saying” he hums pridefully.

Because he knows Natasha (his girl) is the damn best.

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Night Technique

This was a conversation she had never pictured, had never ran through in her head before. Granted she had never ran through the scenario that she’d be like this, here with him either. But here she was, here he was. And so was the conversation.
Usually she was alone when the mood struck her and no one was ever the wiser, expect Liho sometimes. But this was a reminder she wasn’t alone anymore human wise. It was also a reminder that they could talk about things and find ways to heal themselves and each other and gain some measure of understanding about things they hadn’t before.
“I’ve always loved it, I was actually one of those little girls who wanted to be a ballerina when she grew up. Ivan took me once, to see one. Before… and I wouldn’t wear anything but tutus after for a while.” She could remember some things, little moments like that, that she knew without a shadow of a doubt were real.
“I feel okay.” And that was the truth, she didn’t really know how else to put it, well besides complicated.

He smiles at the thought, of a younger Natasha walking around with her hair in a bun and a bright pink tutu on. He smooths a hand down her back, counting the notches in her spine.

“You feel okay.” he echoed with a nod. “Okay is good” he adds, kissing her temple and releasing her. “I don’t want to interrupt you” he adds quieter then, squeezing her gently, “I can go back to sleep if you want to continue without an audience?” he offered.

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There’s some amusement that crosses her features. A moment of lightness is welcome because it distracts. It keeps her from thinking too much about the course they’ve set themselves upon and if it’s the right one.
How long will it take? And did that matter? She supposed it didn’t. Shouldn’t. After all this was about their freedom, being able to sleep at night without keeping one eye open.
But after it was said and done then what?
Retire?
Natasha almost snickered aloud at the idea of James out on a golf course with other men that were his true age.
“Those are bad for you, you know.” She teased him at his find as she came around the van to give him some support.

“Yeah, but they’re good” he smiles, slinging around Natasha with a slight wince. Maybe the wound was worse than he thought, but it didn’t matter now, they’d take care of it, and rest.

It smells warm, the sidewalk covered in flour and snow. He takes the stairs slowly  and once they’re in the safe house, Bucky strips away his tactical gear and shirt and settles heavily against a kitchenette counter. “Okay... you wanna sew this up?” he intones.

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The sound is ignored. He’s in no shape to be driving and he doesn’t know where to go. She does. Obviously. It’s her safe house after all and they were almost there.
“I’m sure that isn’t the only place…” she was pretty sure in fact. What were they going to do? Travel all of Russia until they found every last hole the Red Room had to crawl into and hide? She was beginning to wonder if this had been a fool’s errand. Perhaps they should’ve laid low for a while. It was all starting to feel never ending. Maybe peace was a beautiful lie after all…
Or maybe she wasn’t sure it was what she wanted.
What came after this? What would they do? Who would they become?
She was starting to feel uncertain despite everything that waited on the other side, all of the possibilities.
“What are you-” she caught his movements out of the corner of her eye “-seriously James?” He was snooping? She shook her head slowly as she turned down the street her safe house was on.
It was quiet area, quaint and full of shops up and down the way. At the moment it felt almost abandoned, but that was only due to the time of night it was.
She brought the vehicle to a stop a little bit of a ways from the apartment and the bakery below it. “Just a little walk and then I can get you patched up.”

“I don’t doubt that... these Monsters are too smart to just have one place” he confirms. He sighs out, still digging through the contents of the glove box. He finds a bag of chips and takes it out. “But blowing this place to bits will send a message” he murmurs.

“Or we could r-- Yes I’m snooping!” he replies with something like a laugh.

He slides out of the van, a hand on his side and with his stolen bag of chips. “Okay.” he sighs, waiting for her.

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Night Technique

The fact he remembered seeing her dance made her almost believe she truly had in some fashion and it wasn’t some manipulation of her mind. But then again they could’ve manipulated his mind too in that way with similar memories to her own.
Without hesitation she settled in his lap, her legs dangling across his and arms slipping about his neck leaning against him for the moment.
Did she want to talk about it?
Truthfully?
She wasn’t sure.
Instead of responding for the moment she shifted forward and undid the ties of her shoes. There was almost a ritualistic vibe as she untied and unraveled each shoe before sitting them aside on the floor beneath the table after tucking the ribbons into them to keep Liho from getting any ideas.
“It’s complicated.” She so loved those words it seemed. It was an easy reply and yet it wasn’t. Her shoulders rose and fell with a heavy sigh. “I feel… I feel like it’s wrong for me to still enjoy it. I should hate it.” But she didn’t. Ballet was beautiful to her both in doing and watching.

James loosens his hold some to let her  undo her shoes before he tightens around her again. He drops a few kisses on her shoulder in understanding.

He listens and hums softly.

“So it’s complicated” he murmured back, pushing some of her hair back from her face and James smiles sadly at her. “You love it when you should hate it, and that’s okay” he promised her, kissing her knuckles now. “Do you feel like you still... when you dance?” he asked her then, pressing her knuckles against his stubbly cheek. “Because that’s the only thing that matters, Nat--” he hums.

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Night Technique

Normally she’s quite aware of being watched. But even she can get caught up in what she’s doing, get comfortable within the familiar. And honestly there were only two creatures present to watch her. So when she felt strong arms catch her and inhaled that familiar scent, felt the contrast of metal and skin she knew who it was.
Who it could only be.
Though she felt the brush of fur against her ankles, causing her to look down.
Greeted by her two favorite boys.
The kiss was returned, a smile filtering across her lips. She hadn’t been smiling prior, too lost, caught up in concentrating.
“I was just…” she realized this was the first time he had seen her doing this in the now. In fact she couldn’t remember if he had ever seen her doing it willingly before or not. “I get these moods sometimes.” She sighed, not sure how she felt about it. Usually a mixture of things. It was complicated as most things with her tended to be.
“I didn’t mean to wake you.” She had been dreaming about the ballet again and perhaps that was what sparked her mood.

“It was nice, getting to see you dance again” he replied as he started up the coffeemaker before winding around back to the living room and sitting down on the coffee table he opened his arms so she would come closer.

James tugged her closer, and so she would sit on his lap. 

The assassin took a moment to nuzzle the woman, pressing idle kisses to her shoulder. “You wanna talk about?” he asked, shifting and resting his cheek against her arm. Liho hopped up onto the couch to groom himself, and James looked at her pointe shoes with curiosity.

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She keeps an arm around him, letting him lean against her and she leans back a little. They were alive and that was all that mattered to her. Well and that she still had him. She didn’t want to lose him again, refused actually.
He was everything.
“I think I can manage.” She gave a little snort at his teasing, shaking her head before slipping behind the wheel and seeing to the task. It didn’t take her long and soon the car was coming to life.
“Get in. Those who hot wire get to drive.” She mused, fastening her seatbelt and she knew where they were going anyways.
The drive wasn’t a particularly long one, but it felt that way. She was quiet, thinking, though she did flip the radio on. However it acted more like white noise, she didn’t really notice what it played. She wondered if they had truly been successful or not.
Finally she broke the silence as she turned down a street.
“Do you think… that was it?” She inquired, giving him a quick glance.

He makes a sad little noise as she says she’s driving as he makes his way around and crawling in. He keeps pressure down on his wound and stares ahead at the sleet and the other passing cars.

He shook his head at the question.

“No because we’re going to come back and blow the building to all hell--” he said flatly. “HMX or C-4, but I wanna make sure while we’re in Russia, we get all of this off the table...” he admittedly quietly.

They had a life to finally start. Together, and what ever that meant he was looking forward to it. James didn’t want all of this coming back to haunt them.

“And when I say off the table I mean for good--” he adds, popping open the glove box.

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Night Technique

Open to Mutuals

Silence.

A single beat of it before it is marred by the slide of a shoe across the floor. A simple sound, but it echoes here with a particular nature to an unheard rhythm.

Inside her head, Natasha counts the beats and then moves again.

She’s making it up as she goes along. Something she does when the mood strikes her. This particular mood, to dance. It doesn’t come calling often and it’s precarious when it does. Like a tormenting howling wind. It rattles her bones until she finally gives into its sway like she would a persistent lover.

Her shoes are faded, worn. The ties frayed at their ends. But she can’t bring herself to replace them. They were a part of collection of things, a small collection at that of personal effects that she’s had throughout the passage of time.

But just because time has taken some toll on them doesn’t make them useless or her any less graceful as she easily extends en pointe on the shoes that were once a deep vivid red. Like blood ironically.

On her toes she turns once, twice, then lowers, arms sweeping with precise fluidity as she did. Now she extends her leg, touching the tip of her shoe to the floor then giving a broader turn, ending on that foot. Again and again she repeats the move until she’s crossed to the other side of the room.

He watches her, from the bedroom, but it is enough room to comfortably watch her work in the darkness. Her moving the coffee table had woken him, but he stayed splayed out in bed, Liho a small “cat loaf” (Sam explained it to him) on his chest. James pet over Liho’s fur idly as he watched her move in and out of his line of sight.

He rose when Liho decided he wanted up, and James followed. Quiet as ever he rested in the doorway as she crossed the room, and he caught her in his arms.

“Good morning to you too--” he greets finally, despite it being dark outside still. He kisses her lips once before releasing her. “Need a partner?” he intoned gently, stretching himself out.

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“Nature made me a freak. Man made me a weapon. And God made it last too long.” 

Logan (2017)                                                                                                                                   dir. James Mangold

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