Buckynat Oneshots

One night of Action. (Now its own book)

"You are unbelievable..." He sighed, heaving himself to lean back on his elbows as he watched her pull on underwear and his shirt from last night, wrapping it around herself as she did up the buttons.

"So unbelievable you can't remember my name?" She teased, letting the shirt hang loosely on her body, three buttons from the top left undone. He gave an embarrassed chuckle, looking up at her again. There was a familiarity about her he just couldn't place...

"I was too busy being distracted by how well you knew mine,"

"John, right?" She joked, pulling her hair into a messy bun on the top of her head, some strands hanging down framing her face.

"Definitely not the name you were screaming last night." he smirked arrogantly, watching her cheeks flush a soft shade of red as she scoffed.

"I wasn't screaming anything, and if that's all you've got to go on, then for the record my name isn't 'Fuuuck'."

He laughed, enjoying how it felt. He hadn't laughed in so long. Or smiled. Or felt anything like this, happy. He watched the smirk creep onto her lips again, proud of her own little impersonation of him in his Brooklyn accent. Hers was huskier, a slight foreign uniqueness that rolled off her tongue over certain words or sounds. It was entrancing.

He got out of bed, pulling boxers on then sweatpants as he studied the piles of last night clothes on the floor and she washed her face in the bathroom sink before she returned to him

"What was a fancy guy like you doing in a run down bar like the one last night?" She quirked a brow, folding her arms as she looked up at him.

"I could ask what a girl wearing Dolce and Gabanna jeans was doing their too." He raised his brow too, watching the smile on her face widen as he held up her black jeans, inside out. "It wasn't exactly a high end bar for a girl like you."

"Honey, you don't even know my name. Let's not pretend you know what kind of girl I am." She smirked, folding her arms as she lightly caressed the fabric of the shirt she was wearing. "That doesn't answer my question however, and you weren't exactly wearing rags if I say so myself."

"I dislike flashy, expensive bars, and flashy boring people." He shrugged, stroking his hands down her sides to hold her waist. "And you?"

"Much the same. You find far more interesting people down town. People that are interested in you, for being you." She gave a small grin.

"Pretty much. Do you have an unhealthy relationship with your father and work for his company too?" He half joked, hiding the bitterness of his life as much as she could.

"Something like that...I suppose." She quirked her brow slightly in amusement, a twinkle in her eyes that caught his attention.

"What?"

"So you're a hot shot business man? Wall Street by day, silk bedsheets with a new woman every night. I know your type," she looks a little less amused than before, perhaps a hint of regret about their one night stand themed evening.

Now it was his turn to scoff, leaning in to press his lips to her neck. "Not every night. I don't have time, or get out very much. Unless it's business or stress related." He presses another persuasive kiss a little further down, grinning in amusement at the lipstick stain on the collar of his shirt from last night. She hummed once, not buying it.  "But if it means anything..." and somewhere in the back of his mind he hoped it did. "When I do meet someone, they never get to spend the night afterwards. " He kissed her throat. "Not very gentlemanly, I know. But work comes first." He kissed her jaw, his stubble brushing against her neck. "Lucky for you, my morning meetings are cancelled."

"Lucky for me?" She laughed, lightly holding his cheeks so she could guide his lips away from her.

"I cancelled them, I'll deal with the consequences later. All I'm interested in right now is learning your god damn name," he smirked, pulling her body closer to his. He acted like it didn't bother him, but the anxiety was there. The work he'd have to make up would no doubt have him working longer hours for the rest of the week. But he didn't want her to leave, she made him feel relaxed, with a need to smile.   "Make the next round a little more interesting if I know what to shout."

She raised her brows at him, smiling at the excitement. "Really? You've no idea?" She looked for traces of a lie, she was good at reading people after all, but he shook his head, truthfully not having a clue.

He groaned, "It'll come to me. You could just tell me."

"Oh that's no fun," she pouted playfully as she eased out of his arms. "Any food in this place? Or does your butler get it for you?"

**

Soon after she was in his kitchen, flipping pancakes on his stove like she owned the place. He'd thrown on the news as a background noise to the large empty apartment. He was a minimalist, an interior designer had told him it would suit the shape of his apartment. He didn't care.

"I learned how to do this in Italy," she told him, expertly shaking the pan and then tipping out another pancake onto the large stack.

"Is that where you're from originally?" He asked, sitting at the island as he watched her.

"No. I'm Russian. But I spent the last year there."

"With a boyfriend?"

"No!" She laughed, amused by his need to know her. Truth was he couldn't read her like he could with everyone else. She didn't target him for his wealth or status, and he liked that a lot about her. "I did have an Italian boyfriend once." She looked up at him through her lashes with an innocent smile. "His mother broke up with me."

"Nobody special then?" He asked, lighthearted and playful.

"I belong to absolutely no one," she smiled sliding a plate over to him along with some syrup. "That's exactly the way I like it."

James chuckled as he ate a forkful, she was so like him. Independent. Fierce. Except she was fun and lighthearted. He was stressed and dull.

"Pretty damn good." He said, mouth full as he nodded. "I'm impressed."

"Anything is good covered in syrup." She shrugged, pressed the tip of her index finger just beyond her lips to suck the syrup from it. He looked at her the same way he had done last night in the bar, and she stared back, lips parted slightly, the same hungry look she had worn too.

"I bet you would too." He gently tugged at the hem of the shirt to bring her closer to his chair. Her lips found his, hands gliding into his hair as he held her close.

"You'll have to wait. Or order something new from the menu." She teased, trying to pull back but he stopped her, almost clinging to her.

"Do you have to go?" He frowned, seeping his expressing when she nodded.

"Don't look so upset," she smirked. "You told me last night you were a one night only man."

"That was before I knew you could do that thing with your tongue." She raised her eyebrows at him. "You're also not bad company."

"You are such a guy." She rolled her eyes, chuckling as she freed herself from him successfully this time.

"Come back tonight?" He asked, "or after work? Dinner?"

"It's my movie premier tonight." She smirked, heading to changed as she ordered a cab.

"You're a movie star?" He raised a brow, amused, but now not surprised. "Oh god..." he got off his seat, realising why she was so familiar.

"You are Natasha Romanoff." He said dumbfounded, wondering why it had taken him so long to figure it out. He was lucky if he went to a premier or saw a movie once every 6 months thanks to his hectic work schedule, and he always fell asleep 10 minutes into watching tv, which always had the news on. Glimpses from newspapers and billboards was all he really knew her from, but it was enough.

"You're damn right I am James Barnes." She winked,
Undressing in front of him like she'd known him for years, as if she didn't know she was the most desirable woman in the world.