[ She really doesn't blame him. It wasn't his fault, and avoiding him wouldn't do any good, especially if they were going to live in the same building.

Natasha unfolds herself from the couch and stands, adjusting the hem of the tank top she's wearing. ] Sure. Coffee sounds nice.

[ She follows him into the kitchen and leans with the small of her back against the counter, palms down on top of it. At his question, though, she laughs a little sheepishly, reaching up to tuck a stray bit of hair behind her ear. ] 'Recollections of Imperial Russia', written by the daughter of an Ambassador to Tsar Nicholas the Second. Clint calls them my 'pretentious hipster' books.

[ It takes her a second to realize what he's asking, considering the various terms the word 'hipster' has been attributed to over the years. And she shakes her head -- sometimes it's easy to forget that Bucky and Steve aren't from these parts, so to speak. ] Cream and sugar.. and no, it's more like.. he's saying they're kind of snobby and pretentious... he's just teasing me because I like to read smart books instead of comics.

[ She takes a sip of her coffee, and nearly spits it back out at his last comment, eyes widening over the mug, both eyebrows raised. She coughs a little bit as she swallows, and sets the mug back down on counter. ] You what?

[ She laughs at that -- an actual, small laugh, smile and everything. ] Really? How much trouble did you two get into?

[ His grin is infectious. She can't help it, really -- and she understands the reason why Steve teases him for being a flirt. He is one, and he's very good at it. She can't find it in herself to mind, though, enjoying this for what it is, a pair of people who are interested in one another attempting to feel out if something could work. Natasha is alright with being friends; sometimes she wonders if she's capable of more or if the men she's been with just haven't understood her the way she needs to be. It's entirely possible that Bucky won't be able to either, that he'll need things of her that she just can't give. But she won't know unless she tries to find out, and Natasha Romanoff has never been afraid to find something out.

She grins at him over her coffee, taking another slow sip. ] Nan? Your grandmother?

[ Natasha nods in response, slender fingers cradling the mug in her hands, his own smile something she, in turn, likes to see. Granted, his isn't something rare, and indeed, is something freely given to anyone, it still makes her heart flutter a little bit when she sees it.

Maybe because it looks so much like the smile of someone who, long ago, she did her best to make sure smiled her way.

Bucky still unsettles her, his face, his voice, his build something deeply familiar to her, but she has, recently, started to wonder if that's because he reminds her of a past best left there, or if it's because her attraction to him makes her nervous. The butterflies in her stomach make their way up to her chest when they talk, even briefly, and the influx of emotion, the uncontrollable aspect of it unnerves her.

What unnerves her more is that she finds herself not minding much that she lets her walls down a little bit around him.

There's a chuckle at his description of the woman, and she smirks a little teasingly, raising an eyebrow at Bucky as she reponds. ] Well, with the two of you hanging out at swinger bars, she'd almost have to be, wouldn't she?

[ She returns the wink with a teasing little smile over her coffee mug as she takes a drink. ] I'll keep that in mind if I ever need blackmail against the dear Captain. [ She sets the mug down, and tilts her head to the side. ] What about you? Got any embarrassing stories?

[ The story elicits a chuckle from her. She is, actually, quite impressed-- most guys wouldn't bother telling someone something like that, not when they were in flirt mode. Bucky just scored a few more respect points. ] I'm guessing Nan wasn't too happy with you then, either?

If I told you, I'd have to kill you. [ She's kidding.

Probably.

Although... ] I should probably tell you one of mine, so we're even. [ She reaches down and traces a finger on the rim of her coffee mug, staring into it as she talks. ] When I was younger, going through my training... I had this teacher that I had a sort of.. school girl crush on. He was trying to teach me how to subdue an attacker much bigger than myself, with the move Clint likes to call my 'thigh choke hold'. I wanted to impress him, so I insisted he let me try it without any aid from him. [ She laughs a little at the memory-- it's only pained because it feels strange to tell him this, when part of her feels like he should know it already. Hopefully he'll only take it as embarrassment. ] Of course I fell flat on my face, and completely missed the target. My pride was more wounded than anything else, though, and I have to admit-- it was the first time I heard him laugh in a way that wasn't... sad.

[ The thanks surprises her visibly, and she glances at him, searching his face. ] For what?