#he never voluntarily drops his walls---like here; he's visibly startled by what she said and it shocked him

[malusrecord]

((I'm editing icons for Prime!Howard rq and listen---))

((Sir first of all how dare you, secondly the second Emily says 'you really are the only one I have left' the fuckin visible shock on his face and that fact that he processes it incredibly slowly, just..ugh my heart. Prime!Howard hasn't heard words like that---gentle, accepting, open words, words that he doesn't know what to do with, doesn't know how to include himself in them---in years (largely in part due to his own defensive mechanisms, choices, and etc but not entirely) and it shows.))

[medeafive]

Blood and Stone - 28

Masterpost

“You really can’t make this guy happy,” Tony complains, painting over scratches in his armor. “We kill almost three dozen vampires and all he remarks on is that Rumlow got away.”

“Nat’s friend killed half of them,” Bruce remarks quietly. “And Rumlow, that’s really going to be an issue.”

Natasha totally forgot about Steve until she sees him sitting on the bed, looking around nervously as Bruce takes a blood probe. He looks exactly the same, though, almost unnaturally buff and blonde. Reminds her of the prototypic worker from the old Soviet propaganda. She leans in the door, watching and waiting until they notice her on their own.

“Come on, what’s he going to do?” Tony asks, putting the shoulder plate down. “Run to Schmidt crying for help?”

Steve is the first to notice her, looking even more nervous. “Oh. Hi?”

“Hi,” she replies, raising her dented biteguard. “Just wanted to ask whether you can fix this thing or I have to throw it away.”

Bruce startles and spins, blushing. “Oh. Natasha. Didn’t see you there.”

She doesn’t want to deal with that right now so she drops the biteguard in front of Tony who picks it up, frowning, pulling on it until it’s creaking miserably. “Wow. That thing’s totally done for. Really, you were this close to getting bitten.”

Must have been the dark-haired woman from the hunting party. Well, she’s dead now so what does it matter. “Wasn’t, though.”

Tony snorts. “Smartass. I guess your vampire friend can’t complain if you turn into a vampire as well.”

“Well, I wouldn’t like that,” she returns. "What's he doing in here? I thought he's fine now."

Apparently, Steve’s not fine enough to have a conversation. “Not that simple,” Bruce replies, corking up a vial. “We’re not sure he’s really stable. Especially under extreme conditions like, you know, fighting vampires.”

“I think I’m good,” Steve tries, pressing a bandaid on the tiny wound. “Really. I’m feeling-”

“Let’s just put him through the paces already,” Tony interrupts. “See whether he can handle it.”

Bruce rolls his eyes, putting the vial in the shaking machine that has some fancy scientific name. “I’m not sure I can help him if he goes into cardiac arrest or something. I want to understand how his body works first.”

“Hey,” Natasha addresses Steve. “You wanna fight? Go a few rounds?”

Steve blushes. Bruce groans. “Nat. Please.”

“I promise not to kill him,” Natasha states. “Come on. Are you just gonna sit there?”

Steve looks around helplessly. “Uh. I mean, I- if you say- if it’s okay- well, I should get changed first.”

“Yeah, do that,” Natasha advises, watches his broad back as he gets up and walks to the door. “Not going to go easy on you.”

“You’re really fucking high on vampire blood, aren’t you,” Tony remarks, sawing her biteguard apart.

“So what,” she returns. “So is he.”

Bruce shakes his head, taking the glasses off. “You’re even cockier than usual, Natasha.”

Tony grins. “Yeah, looks like the virus has psychological effects after all, right? Like I said.”

“Like you said?” Natasha repeats. “What did you say?”

Bruce sighs, cleaning his glasses. “I don’t think you want to hear that.”

Well, that doesn’t really curb her interest. “Come the fuck on.”

“Bruce took another blood probe from your friend,” Tony tells her gleefully. “His virus count is as high as ever. Seems like it only went down during your accidental baby making.”

“What the fuck,” Natasha remarks.

“It does raise some questions,” Bruce admits. “About why it went down.”

“Basically, it’s either that he wanted to fuck you so bad it pushed the vampire side back,” Tony states. “Or, alternatively, the vampire side saw the chance to seduce you and retreated voluntarily so he could do that. And now you have the baby so there’s no need for that anymore.”

Bruce was right, she didn’t want to hear that. “Are you saying he wants to fuck me because he’s a vampire?”

“No one’s arguing he wouldn’t be attracted to you if he were human,” Bruce specifies. “But we know he can smell women who are ovulating and it seems he responds to that. The question is whether it’s the vampire viruses that respond to that or some residual humanness.”

“Bobbi thinks the vampire thing wants to reproduce in any way possible,” Tony adds. “Including sexually.”

So that’s what she meant, what James is or is not aware of. The thought scares her. “But he- wouldn’t he be more interested in the baby then? If the baby was the whole point?”

“No idea,” Bruce replies, turning off the shaking machine. “But sexual reproduction probably wasn’t very high on Zola’s mind when he made the virus cocktail, so it might just be a side effect from the urge to bite people. I mean, vampires hardly care what becomes of the fledglings they make. More like martens in a blood frenzy.”

Her head is spinning. “I guess you’ll see soon,” Tony suggests ominously.

Fortunately, the door opens just then and Steve’s head peeks in from way too high. He’s really huge. “I’d be ready. If you still-”

“Of course,” she snaps, shouldering past him. “Training room. Now.”

He moves relatively quietly, for his size, she hardly hears him following her. She wonders whether that has something to do with his strength, wonders how strong he even is. “Weren’t you- pregnant?” he asks.

“Yes,” she returns, not bothering to turn around.

“And now?” he asks quite stupidly.

“Now I’m not,” she states coldly, knocking the door to the training room open. It’s empty. Good.

Steve clears his throat, stopping outside. “Right. Sorry I asked.”

She shrugs, starting to wrap her wrists, not caring whether he thinks she aborted or miscarried or whatever. Doesn’t make a difference. It’s not her baby, she doesn’t have a baby. “Are you gonna stay standing there?”

Steve blushes. He’s very light-skinned, much like her, so it really shows. “I don’t- I don’t want to hit you.”

Right. He may have amnesia but he’s still old-fashioned. “Well, I’m going to hit you. You either stop me or you don’t.”

He gulps. “Where’s Bucky?”

Oh my God, he probably has qualms about being alone with her. It takes her a moment to understand who he's talking about. “Sleeping. Why, are you two best friends now?"

"Well, he- he helps me settle in, kind of," Steve admits, proceeding into the room slowly. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

She jumps at him, not caring that he's not even on the mat yet, he ducks out from under her fist reflexively, she hits him again and he catches her arm but does it too gently, she rips it back with the vampire strength and kicks him in the torso so hard he tumbles back, hands raised. She goes after him, punch after punch, and he retreats bit by bit, blocking quickly without hitting back, she grabs his arm and yanks it out so she can swing up on his shoulders, kicking against the wall full force so he tumbles down, and makes sure she lands not only safely but also with her legs around his neck.

He's extraordinarily red in the face though she's not even choking him that hard and he raises his hand to tap out but lowers it instead of touching her thigh. She snorts, her knee pressed against his chin so he couldn't bite her but probably also couldn't talk, and releases him before he suffocates out of politeness. He scrambles to a safe distance quickly. "Wow, you're- you're strong."

"Yep." She gets up, tugging her ponytail straight. "Temporary, though."

He hesitates, visibly willing the redness from his face. "Is that- is that the vampire blood?"

"Helped me recover," she replies. "I mean, helped you not to die, too."

He frowns, staring at the ground. "I don't remember."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," she returns. "Get up, we're not done."

He obeys quite automatically. "Yes, Ma'am. For me, it seems permanent. I mean, at least so far, I don't know-"

She strikes him so he'll stop talking and his reflexes are fast but she’s relentless and ruthless, hitting his chest and his shoulder, he barely ducks out under her sweeping kick, she grabs his arm to throw him but this time, he doesn’t let her, holding it steadfast so she ends up pulling herself towards him, his big hand lands on her shoulder so she doesn’t crash into him and then- then he just holds her there, hand on her shoulder, hers wrapped around his forearm, his smell overwhelming her heightened senses but in an unbelievably pleasant way- she could knee him in the groin but she’s transfixed, breathing him in, his mouth is hanging slightly open and his lips are a lush pink, and- she has to think hard about the last time she was attracted to a man, a human man, must have been- the thought breaks off when Steve blushes and drops his arms, both of them, staring down, clearing his throat, all of it, she still feels the muscles gliding through under her fingertips, not stone-like but stringy, not flat but bulging, not dead but alive. “You’re strong,” she says, voicing her only thought.

Steve blushes even more, looking at some spot on the floor to her right. “Wasn’t- wasn’t always.”

“You remember that?” she questions.

He bites his lip, genuinely pensive but her hormones are all over the place. “Somehow. Yeah. Something.”

If she was listening to him objectively, she’d say he sounds like a complete idiot, but she’s not listening objectively, she’s not really listening at all, she’s just breathing him in and hoping he’ll never ever step away. She’s never smelled anything this intense, this good . “Yeah?”

He frowns. “I don’t really know- I just know I used to feel differently. Frailer. Now I feel like everything around me is frail.”

She’s been on the other side of that feeling before, knows how James’ clawed fingers trailed carefully down her spine thinking how easily he could snap it, rip her apart. She was wrong earlier, Steve isn’t really human, doesn’t even smell human- or maybe he’s more human than anyone else will ever be. “I’m frail?”

He blushes again, though it seems like a different kind of embarrassment now. “Didn’t mean to- yes. I mean, you’re strong. Very strong. But- yes.”

She is, indeed. She remembers when she was stretched so thin she’d have burst under the smallest additional pressure, the smallest additional stress, just days ago. She’s really just a thin-skinned blood bag and she’s increasingly aware of it now that- now that she can smell her own blood.

The admission shocks her for a moment and somehow Steve steps away just then, the smell moving but not disappearing at all. She can smell her own blood and she’s not even bleeding. Like a vampire. An old vampire. It probably takes years until they can smell the blood through intact skin and she just- what is she even? What is Steve? They’re both removed from- humanity somehow, human-adjacent at best, but Steve at least smells nice and pleasant and decidedly non-evil and she- she wonders what she smells like. Steve clears his throat. “Sorry.”

The hair on the back of her neck stands and she can’t rationally tell why. “Do you- feel that?”

“Yes,” he replies, much to her surprise, and before she can ask him what he feels, the door swings open and James is standing there, just behind the doorstep, as if he actually couldn’t cross it. “Are you okay?”

Her head is spinning. “I think we’re okay,” Steve replies hesitantly. “Or-”

“Seems so,” James replies. “Don’t worry about it. I think they’re making dinner now.”

It’s dark outside but it gets dark early, in December. “Are they?” Steve repeats awkwardly. “Do you think I could- would it be weird if-”

It would be super amusing, James coaching someone in, of all things, socializing , but her head is elsewhere. “Sure,” James replies. “Just go. Sharon’s down there.”

Of course. Steve seems instantly delighted. “Oh, okay. I’ll go then.”

He really moves in a strange way, and very quietly, too. James slips inside before Steve walks out, door falling shut loudly. “You okay?"

Steve's strong smell still lingers. She presses her palms to her cheeks, finding them hot. "Yeah. Just- my hormones are all over the place."

James chuckles, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall. "Yeah, no, I know. I smell it. Hear your heartbeat, too."

Her palms are sweaty. Well, this is awkward. "How the fuck does he smell so fucking good?"

"No idea," James replies. "No one else seems to have noticed. Thought it was- but it's not like it makes me want to drink his blood."

"Just breathe it in," Natasha finishes, dropping her hands. "Oh man."

"Hate to break it to you but he's head over heels for Sharon," James teases her. "Sorry."

She snorts. They probably couldn't have talked like this earlier on, she remembers how he got jealous over Clint, but their relationship feels different now. And how couldn't it, after everything? "Can't imagine she likes that."

"Nope, she's mad he can't remember her grandma," James agrees. "Which is not really his fault but… well, looks like he has a type."

She steps up to him, thinking about how he slept in the armchair and only took the bed after she got up. "Give me your hand?"

He sighs, uncrossing his arms. "Natalia-"

"I know, I know," she hurries to say. "Just- I need to know."

"It's not gonna work," he says quietly. "Even if I want it to."

She takes his hand anyway, careful around the gray claws, and it's cool and smooth and hard as marble, and it stays that way even when she squeezes it. She never even could have had sex with him like this, it just wouldn't have worked. "Does it work with Steve?"

James looks down at the gray horn claw against her pale skin. "Yes."

"With Sharon?" she asks, twisting her hand into his palm. “Pepper?”

He snorts, cold caress. “How the fuck am I supposed to know? Trust me, they don’t even like me being around.”

That sounds like his self-consciousness talking. “Tony and Bruce were speculating you might smell… lady smells.”

“Your period,” he returns. “Yeah, sure.”

It’s not even uncomfortable, holding his cold hand. “Not that. More like- fertility.”

He sighs. “Probably. I mean, that’s just hormones, isn’t it? You definitely smell differently throughout the month.”

She didn’t expect him to say yes. “Do I? Still?”

“I meant generally,” he replies. “Not sure about now. But everyone smells differently over time, with where they’ve been and how long they slept and what they ate. I couldn’t identify which part of that is your menstrual cycle. Unless you’re bleeding.”

“But maybe you’re attracted to the smell,” she suggests. “The- the fertile smell.”

“Sure, why not,” he returns. “I mean, how often did I tell you you smell good? I just can’t tell why you smell good.”

So not aware. “But I don’t smell good right now,” she prompts.

“No, but you’re still full of vampire blood, aren’t you?” he asks back. “That’s a strong smell.”

She sighs, letting go of his cold hand. “I really don’t know what to make of all this.”

“I can’t identify most smells,” James replies. “Mostly, it’s just… that’s a human smell. Everything beyond that is almost impossible to say with certainty.”

“And you hate garlic,” she jokes.

He grimaces, fangs peeking through. “I actually don’t like that one. Too intense.”

This is starting to get comical, though something in her brain connects at that moment. “I think Steve- it’s not the same but he smells a little like the baby. But it doesn’t- it doesn’t smell good.”

“Mhm.” He stares at the wall, frowning. “I don’t know.”

“Maybe we should drive there sometime,” she suggests intensely. “Don’t you want to see- her?”

He closes his eyes. “Nat, I- I shouldn’t. I can’t know anything Schmidt might get out of me later. Shouldn’t see it, shouldn’t know where it is, shouldn’t know its smell.”

Horror mixes with desire. It’s hard to untangle the two. “But you want to.”

“Yeah,” he admits, which fills her with dread. “I don’t know, I’m glad you’re back and healthy and- I think it just won’t be real until I see it.”

Even worse that his emotions and desires are so pure and she literally tried to smother the fucking thing, and now she’s pretending she’s a doting mother who just wants to- Stop. “Guess you’re right. Maybe I shouldn’t even have come here still smelling like-”

“You smell like Steve,” he interrupts her. “Don’t know what it is about him but it’s sticky.”

She smiles, molding against him. “But it’s not enough for…?”

He shakes his head, pecking her lips with his stone cold ones. “Sorry.”

She doesn’t even really feel like it, to be honest. Maybe she’s subconsciously still thinking about what happened last time. Maybe it’s some other hormonal bullshit. She’s officially a mess and by now, she’s fairly okay with it. “Never gonna be the same again, is it.”

“Wouldn’t be so sure about-” James starts but then the door is ripped open. It’s Sam and for a moment, just a moment, she sees something flash through his eyes, until she’s stepped back and Sam has willed it away. “Dinner,” he says. “And then we should discuss the patrol for the night.”

“Yeah, we should,” James agrees, keeping his hands on her arms. “Probably will be a calm one but you never know.”

“Exactly,” Sam agrees, somehow quite tense. “Just- just come down.”

She sees it again before the door falls shut, feels James’ fingers tightening around her upper arms, knows he saw it, too. And she feels it, like a gut punch, the exact emotion she saw on Sam’s face as he looked at James’ claws around her arm, at her body touching his, at their physical closeness.

Disgust.