"Sixteen hours."
"Yes, Paul, thank you, Paul."
"I'll be back in exactly sixteen hours, acting as your driver, and I'll drive you to the Oscars."
"Got it, Paulsy."
"Stylist, makeup, hair – all that will be here in ten hours."
"I know, Paulson."
"Alright," He nodded firmly to himself, standing in the lobby, and you eyed his hand that was holding the elevator, preventing it from closing, "Get some sleep. Drink plenty of water."
"Thanks, mom." You groaned, prying his paw off the side, and Bucky stifled a chuckle behind you as the man struggled.
"See you in sixteen hours!" He shouted once more right as the door shut and you let out an exasperated sigh, leaning back against the side wall.
"He's insufferable."
"You're going to forget when he's coming." Natasha told you, sounding sure of it, and you made an offended noise.
"Esqueeze me? I willn't!"
There was a beat of silence before Bucky mumbled, "Bet you already forgot."
"He yells a lot!" You came to your own defense after a long moment, "And his face gets all red, his eyebrow sometimes sweats – it's become a game of mine to see how fast I can make things like this happen and it's very distracting."
Natasha gaped at you, "So, you did forget already?"
Luckily, the door chose that moment to reach the correct floor.
"So, Tony won't be back until after the awards," You told them, showing them the guest penthouse suite, "This has four bedrooms and three bathrooms, a balcony, plenty of living space and a kitchen," You explained, "You guys mind sharing this massive flat until he gets back, and you can review contracts or whatever? Quit? I don't know."
Bucky furrowed his eyebrows, turning to you, "Do you need us to stay on for longer?"
"I mean," You shrugged, shoving your hands into your pockets, "I guess not? I haven't found anyone else yet since I've been a bit busy touring, but the deal was the month, so," Your eyes drifted to Natasha who was watching you closely, "A deal's a deal, I suppose."
"I would stay on," Bucky was quick to reply, and your attention went back to him, "The money's great and with this long break coming up...you could give me a ring if you needed me for another tour or something, right?"
"Sounds good," You nodded with a smile, "Glad you liked the gig enough," He agreed, and you slowly spun towards the redhead who was now fidgeting with her bag, avoiding your eyes, "Romanoff? Any thoughts on it yet?"
She seemed to choose her words carefully before she said, "Your world is very crowded."
Bucky shot her a look that she ignored, and you considered it, "Yeah, it is. And a bit fast," You paused, "Could just be pap walks and such for a while though. Mostly in the states."
She narrowed her eyes just slightly, "Can I think about it?"
"'Course."
"Well," Bucky raised his eyebrows, obviously not understanding her issue with the job, but letting it go for now – or at least while you were around, "I don't have to think about what to do next – I need to shower and call the husband. See you later."
He wheeled his bag around the corner towards the bedrooms, not needing any help on where to go, and suddenly the room was quiet.
"Ya know," You decided to break the silence, shuffling a bit over to her as you spoke, "It seemed for a second there that you warmed up to me. But maybe you attacked me animal style against my dressing room wall only in my dreams."
She pursed her lips, "And maybe, for a second," She used your words against you, "I thought something could work."
Your stomach dropped and you nearly whispered, "But not anymore."
Her fierce eyes flicked to yours, her jaw clenched, "But not anymore."
You were at a loss, "Why? What did I do?"
"Nothing," She offered you a tight smile, "You did nothing wrong, I just realized I don't fit into the world you live in. It's loud and I can't get a moment to think."
There were two sides to everything in life.
When you had your band, owning the stage with them behind you, next to you, the fans giving the energy back that you tried to put out every night up there, you felt fucking invincible. Like it was you guys against the world. That type of space, that connection, that whole element doesn't happen. It just doesn't. What you do up there is one in a million and you know that. Never taking it for granted. Even backstage is a thrill before and after shows. Then the in betweens when you're writing lyrics to work into the band and staying up late getting plastered, going out like it's your last night on earth, it's euphoric. Meeting people you would've never been privileged enough to in a lifetime, becoming friends with these artists – it's incredible. On top of the world type of feeling.
But in those off moments, those specks of doubt and regret, you see the outside. You want that serene life with a dog or five, maybe some kids, a loving partner, and a home. A town you can walk around freely and buy bread or shaved ice. You're not sure about details – the point was made, though. You want the peace and happy and domestic so bad it hurts. When you let yourself stop and think, ask yourself what you truly want from life, it physically hurts to think that you may never be able to obtain it. And you just met this woman in front of you barely six weeks ago, but my god, has that dream life never seemed so close before. It was like you could reach out and touch it if you wanted to. Let yourself have everything.
But you were scared.
You were so goddamn scared to lose everything, to embrace the ugly side of the media that would come with your retirement, to give up the dream you've had since you were twelve years old performing for your grandparents in their living room. And what if it didn't work out? Not just with Natasha, but at all? What if it isolated you into a massive house that felt as empty as you were inside because you weren't capable of keeping and cherishing a love that you wanted and everything else just fell apart at your feet. Right there. Where you could see and touch, but it would only bring immense amounts of heartache.
Then there was Natasha.
You were staring at this woman who was so fiercely independent and sure of herself, confident in ways even you as a performer could only dream of being, someone who drove you so insanely mad and you loved to do the same right back. Neither of you got along, you could barely agree on anything whenever you two were together, but you oddly felt happiest when you were arguing with her.
Whatever was between you two wasn't something you wanted to go through life wondering about. You didn't want any what if's and even if nothing but pain came from this, at least you could never say it was a regret to make the jump. You wanted this side after having the other for nearly half your life.
"After tomorrow night, you realize I'm off for a good chunk of time, right? Like maybe an appearance here and there, but until I drop another album – I'm off. And I might not even tour it when I do," You explain and she seemed to consider it as you took a calculated step forward, "I've never um, Natalia," You straightened your posture and her eyes had a flash of amusement in them as you went formal, "Would you like to have dinner with me? Full warning, this date consists of pizza, alcohol of your choice, a bad comedy, and a whole lotta me," She cracked a smile, her whole demeanor softening, "No noise. No fancy clothes. Just us. Two days from now."
You offered your hand to shake, and she hummed in amusement, a small laugh on her lips, before she took it in hers, pulling you forward so you stumbled into her. She chuckled again before leaning a bit further to give you a chaste kiss that had you beaming. Your dumbass did it.
"Sounds like my kind of night."
