A Fool's Dance

Chapter Seventeen

James ignored the look Barton was giving him as he set the scrambled eggs down on the table next to the bacon. He still looked absolutely horrible, and he noticed that Barton hadn't quite stopped shaking. He decided against mentioning any of that and grabbed two plates out of the cabinet.

"I'm not..."

"Eat," James told him.

Barton dropped into the other chair and picked up his fork. James noted that his eyes at least seemed to have a spark of life in contrast of the dead look they usually have. It was an improvement that had James smirking to himself. The only noise inside the apartment was the occasional scratch of their forks against the plate. James had to admit that he was surprised Barton ate as much as he did.

"They know where I am?" Barton asked eventually.

"Natalia knows that I know."

Barton's gaze snapped up to his and James stilled at the pure anger in his gaze.

"Her name is Natasha. Stop calling her Natalia. That part of her is dead. You're just going to confuse her again."

James nodded slowly, unsure if he should speak while Barton glared at him like that with a knife so close to his hand. The other man's eyes dropped back to his empty plate and James watched the anger slowly fade. Barton glanced up at him and looked away again, eyes watering.

"Hey," James said gently.

"What?" Barton sighed.

"You can talk to me," James told him.

Barton snorted, shaking his head. The man pushed his plate away and eyed the remaining eggs on James's plate. He wordlessly handed Barton the plate and picked up his orange juice.

"Just was thinking about Phil."

"Your husband."

"Yeah."

"What was he like?" James asked.

"No offense, Barnes, but I'm- I can't talk about this. Change the subject."

"If you were to kill me, how would you do it?"

Barton smiled slightly and James flashed him a grin. He remained still as Barton leaned across table to kiss him. James's metal fingers began tapping on the table and he pulled away.

"What do you say about going to Stark Tower and having a shooting match. First one to mess up buys dinner."

"I hope you have money," Barton replied.