A Bolt from the Blue

Chapter 11

It was Friday evening and Bucky had wanted to go out to party. Steve had declined, claiming he had some reports to finish and some sleep to catch up on. Although the latter wasn't exactly untrue, he had made sure not to precise it was his racking his brains over Natalie's fate that kept him awake long hours at night. Bucky had first grumbled then eventually accepted, promising he wouldn't wake him when he'd come home later in the night.

Steve was sitting on the couch, channel-hopping between an old baseball game rerun and some World War II documentary.

"In 1932, Adolf Hitler won the election by one vote"

"Erroneous," he muttered to himself and sighed in exasperation. Then he switched back onto the baseball game.

A knock on the door disturbed the quietness in the apartment. He frowned, unused to such an event occurring, then rose to his feet. It had to be a mistake, probably a delivery guy again. Last week, the boy who had knocked was supposed to deliver a pizza one story below.

He opened the door wide then froze in shock at the sight before him. Romanoff, dressed in dark jeans and a leather jacket was innocently standing in the hallway of his building.

"Hey. Is Barnes here?" she asked, leaning sideways and openly snooping into the apartment.

"He's...out," he answered numbly.

Natasha pouted slightly then shrugged. "That's a drag. I guess my prank will have wait till Monday morning, then."

She showed what she was holding behind her back. "I brought some films. You have some serious catching up to do."

He opened his mouth, ready to speak but his mind was saturated with confusion. Part of him wanted to protest, as the last thing he wanted was to trade an evening of putting his thoughts together regarding Natalie for a movie evening with her doppelganger, but Natasha was already in. She swiftly walked through the door and made her way to the living room.

She headed to the TV set and knelt down. "Wow. I'm almost speechless to find you have a DVD player," she commented casually.

He stood awkwardly behind the couch, shielding himself whilst watching her with an agape mouth, slowly processing the prospect of the evening.

"I have two DVDs," she went on naturally and he surrendered to her formidable invasion. "I let you choose. One is Twelve Angry men –a must-see but quite gritty, and Some like it hot."

He arched an eyebrow and peered at her inquisitively.

She smiled.

"It's totally decent....Well, in second thought, you may find it shocking since it was quite controversial at the time it came out. But Jack Lemmon is exceptional in it. And it's indisputably Marilyn Monroe's best film."

It piqued his interest and his mind was thrust all the way back to 1942 with Natalie.

Romanoff shot him an expectant look.

"So?" she asked.

He nodded numbly. "Some like it hot."

She smiled, looking smug. "I was secretly hoping you'd answer that. Clint was the first person to show it to me and I loved it. I'm passing it on now."

He nodded in silence, biting his bottom lip slightly at the mention of Barton's name.

After putting the DVD to play, Natasha sat on the couch in the most natural way possible as if it was hers as much as it was his. Steve sat down too, intentionally leaving some big enough space between the two of them; partly because he had been raised to respect women's personal space, partly to preserve his own.