Natasha speaking English and Natasha speaking Russian are completely different people. When she speaks her native language, it's like allowing someone to walk into her snowy plains. Here, everyone is struck by the same thing: beneath this already extremely beautiful shell, there lies an even more beautiful and solemn soul.
Bucky looked like he was on the verge of madness. Their discussion hadn't even truly touched upon the past, yet just hearing a language he once heard from a young Natasha's mouth was enough to break him. He felt himself shattering into millions of pieces, falling through the cracks of the chair like fine snow under the eaves.
He couldn't help but prop his elbows on the table, covering his mouth, as if doing so could conceal his loss of composure. He was like a man waking from a coma after years, suddenly realizing at this moment how he once fell in love with Natasha.
The transformed Winter Soldier was a killing machine; he was not supposed to have desires. In other words, his love was a chaotic program after his derivative codes broke through their limits. And it was actually Natasha's soul that caused this chaos.
At that time, she was still a determined warrior, full of ideals, full of hope, like the sun on the snowy plain. It seemed all the ballads of the North were composed for her. She was the Russian girl depicted by all Soviet literary figures: beautiful, strong, and sad. Her labored, robust limbs were unseen lying over the vast land, and a lifetime's love and hate couldn't become a worthy point to be written about in that tumultuous era.
Bucky could no longer speak. But when a person speaks through the soul, it's not so easy to stop. Moreover, the Natasha of now was no longer that naive and ignorant girl. She was too sharp, and Bucky almost wanted to beg her to stop.
"Longevity is not a reward for people like us. Whether we live for a hundred or two hundred years, we will forever be trapped in a certain decade. Our entire strength and effort, all our wisdom and emotion, all our courage and love and hate, have been exhausted at that time. Everything that happens afterwards is nothing but a repetition of what happened in that year, even those few hours. We do not learn lessons because we live long, but we have endless time to repeat mistakes. For us, starting a new life and new love doesn't require a new environment and era, but requires a new self. But ask yourself, when you've lived fifty years in one way, can you shed the past and become a completely new self in just a week, like when you were twenty?"
"Why can't we help each other?" Bucky couldn't help but ask in Russian, "Why can't we help each other transform?"
"But what's the point of exchanging blood when the blood in our veins is already old? Nothing in this world will ever again inspire the 90-year-old me as communism did to the 15-year-old me. I can no longer have such passion and hope. Aren't you the same?"
"No." Bucky denied, "No matter how old I am, every time you appear before me, it's like a complete transformation, reminding me that I am still a brand new me."
"It's a pity you don't hold such significance to me," Natasha said. "But you don't need to feel sorrow for this because no one who appears in my life holds that significance."
"I could have been, right?"
Facing Bucky's gaze, Natasha for the first time turned her head away. She glanced at her watch, then surveyed the surroundings, seemingly puzzled as to why those who would disrupt didn't arrive.
Bucky pressed his lips tightly. He nodded quickly and lightly, seeming to affirm, but with a touch of trembling.
"When you discovered I was Hydra, you almost killed me. I thought you hated me, so I accepted that..."
"Why do you always bring this up?!" Natasha finally exploded. She tightly gripped the fork in her hand, the fork's tip pressed into the tabletop, even creating a series of small dents in the wooden table.
"Are you boasting about your foolishness back then?! A simple infiltration task exposed your identity. I even slit your throat with just a few moves! And after I spared you, you foolishly followed me from Minsk, and the most foolish choice—you chose to go back with me, but in the end chose to leave!"
Bucky slightly opened his mouth. He heard too many expectant reversals in Natasha's slightly erratic words, as if things wouldn't have been the way they were if only he'd done one thing right.
He had to admit, he made too many wrong choices. But at the same time, he was filled with resentment and unwillingness.
"But you made the biggest mistake!" Bucky stood up, looking down at Natasha, saying, "You didn't kill me, that proves you are far more foolish than I am!"
With that, he turned and quickly walked towards the bathroom. Standing in front of the sink in the bathroom, he remained silent for a long time, turned on the tap, splashed cold water on his face, and belatedly felt a chill down his spine.
Saying she was foolish in front of the Black Widow, he almost cheered for his own courage. But he knew his courage always missed the mark. If it wasn't spent dredging up old grievances, his child might be older than Little Rogers by now.
The situation had become somewhat difficult to resolve. Natasha was also thinking, this damned expensive restaurant's damned expensive aperitif had a damned high alcohol content, making her start to speak recklessly and nonsensically. Her original plan to stall for time had completely unraveled.
"Waiter!" Natasha called out, "Get me a drink. No damn red industrial essence... is there Vodka?"
Bucky emerged from the bathroom stall, turned the tap on again to wash his hands, and after drying them, adjusted his tie and hair. He quickly regained his composure, but when he came out, he was met with the sight of Natasha drinking intently.
The alcohol made her skin flush, and the fine sweat on her forehead and neck appeared too seductive under the lights.
Bucky, who had just come up with a bellyful of arguments in the bathroom, suddenly couldn't remember a word. He had never felt so hopeless about having normal human desires.
Now, a beautiful woman with whom he has had countless entanglements, faced with the romantic restaurant atmosphere, a table full of sumptuous delicacies, and a strong and handsome man usually within his aesthetic range, chose to be a bride of alcohol.
Bucky felt a certain violent emotion stirring inside. Ever since breaking free from brainwashing, he hadn't felt like this for a long time.
"Bucky is angry." Steve said, looking at the surveillance screen, "I can't say he's a person with a great temper, but ever since the brainwashing was lifted, he's been trying hard to control himself, not to become irritable. But it's clear, Natasha has really gotten to him this time."
"So what's he going to do?" Wanda spread her hands and said, "Facing the Black Widow, what can he do? After violent means are useless, how much more can he struggle in vain?"
"Just wait and see." Steve shook his head and said, "Dear B.B has more tricks up his sleeve than you think."
"Waiter." Bucky called out, "Bring me a glass of red wine."
He clearly saw the slightly intoxicated look of mockery in Natasha's eyes, as if saying "You're still so gutless." But Bucky ignored her and didn't change his decision. The wine came quickly.
The dry red wine was stronger than he imagined, or perhaps there was something other than alcohol stimulating him, making him feel hot. So he took off his suit jacket and loosened his tie with his hand.
His medium-length black curly hair was tied at the back. He seemed to have meticulously groomed every part of himself, except for his hair. His hair was uneven in length, with only the back portion tied up, while the front part just hung down on his forehead and cheeks. Whenever he sweated, the loose strands would stick to his face, making him look a bit like an unkempt vagabond.
"You're right, Natasha." Bucky nodded and said, "We shouldn't always mention the past. So let's talk about the present. Will you be as dressed up at Steve's birthday party?"
"Why not?" Natasha laughed, "Perhaps I'll be even more beautiful than now. Everyone will applaud and cheer for me, everyone will want to dance with me. Don't you think so?"
"You are indeed very beautiful." Bucky said, "But I also feel sorry for them. Because what they see still isn't the most beautiful you. If they saw the old you, they would understand that enduring the pain of World War II again would be worthwhile."
"You said we shouldn't talk about the past anymore." Natasha squinted her eyes as if she finally caught his weakness. She drank another sip of wine as if celebrating.
"I'm just stating a fact." Bucky placed the salad plate in front of Natasha and wiped the fork with a napkin, as if busying himself to distract, momentarily lost in thought.
"Are you used to spacing out while complimenting a woman's beauty?" Natasha stared at him, "What do you want me to respond with? 'Thank you, you're also very handsome'?"
"I'm honored." Bucky said, "Everyone in the restaurant has been watching you for over two minutes. I dare say each of them is envious of me, perhaps even jealous."
Natasha pursed her lips and smiled, taking another sip of wine and saying, "You don't know how many of those instructors back then envied you... Look. We can't not talk about the past at all. It always goes back to these topics. Don't you find it boring?"
Bucky extended his mechanical arm, almost across the entire table, gently lifting Natasha's chin with his fingertip and wiping the wine off her lips with his thumb.
Natasha seemed drunk, showing no reaction to his action, just blankly staring at him.
"It's over." Wanda covered her forehead and said, "I overestimated Natasha. She can't withstand this kind of seduction at all!"
Pepper couldn't help but lean her head back, pinching the bridge of her nose, and then looking at Steve, saying, "This is how you won Carter over back then, right?"
"Don't say things without knowing. I wasn't this bold. This is a restaurant, after all."
"So privately you were?"
Everyone else looked towards Coulson sitting on the edge. Coulson sighed deeply. Steve glared at him, as if to see what he would say. Coulson shook his head, sighed again.
"Agent Carter was late 185 times in a year." Coulson said, taking a sip of coffee, "I'm not suggesting someone could seduce such a strong-willed Agent Carter to the point she couldn't get out of bed. I'm just saying, if that were the case, it would only prove this person is very charming. Wouldn't you agree, Captain?"