Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“To heal you have to get to the root of the wound and kiss it all the way up.”

-Rupi Kaur

Bright green leaves rustled in the breeze, spinning and cartwheeling across the carefully manicured grass. There was a stillness in the air, as if the weather hadn't completely decided to shift to spring just yet, and a late, cold shower threatened from the clouds. He added very little noise to the day, just the sound of boots on the stiffened and cold ground, and the crinkle of plastic around the bouquet in his hands. He slowed when he saw a man with dark hair seated among the tombstones, cross-legged on the grass and speaking softly to one of the grave markers. He couldn't make out the words, even with his superior hearing, and as he took a step closer, he heard the man stop speaking and watched as his posture tensed.

Following the same path he took every time he visited the graveyard, Steve Rogers stood before Margaret Carter's final resting place, the man sitting near his feet not bothering to look up.

"Captain."

"Tony."

Tony Stark brushed his hands on his slacks, a small pile of shredded grass blades in front of him and a carefully chosen fistful of flowers sitting on the ground at his side, dirt still sticking to the exposed roots.

Tony had been remembering one summer day he'd spent with Aunt Peg, tending to the small garden she and her husband, Daniel, kept behind their small home in upstate New York. She'd taught him how to push the seed into the flower box, how to water it carefully so it wouldn't drown. Tony's hands, normally covered in grease and oil, had become covered in dirt. It was a different feeling than he’d been used to and he hadn’t been sure if he liked it. He was so good at taking things apart that he didn't know how to do anything other than destroying something then building it back up. He hadn't taken up gardening after that day, mechanics and engineering his one true love, but he'd marveled at how Aunt Peg could soften her hands to help something grow, nurturing it until it bloomed and blossomed into its full potential beauty.

If that was an allegory for what she'd attempted to do for him after his parents had died, Tony knew better than to poke at that beast.

"I wasn't able to go to her funeral," Tony said, voice clear of its usual flippancy. He'd been busy, always too busy. Too busy to stop and think of Aunt Peg, and how she hadn't recognized him any longer. Too busy to think of how she'd mistaken him for his father over and over, insisting that he finally let Steve Rogers rest, that he stop worrying about Erskine's formula and move forward with his life. Maybe get married. Start a family.

Steve Rogers had been a part of Tony Stark's life since before the soldier had been pulled from that ice. A war hero. The dead friend of Aunt Peg's and his father. The specter of a man Tony'd never met but was constantly compared to, at least in his father's eyes. A ghost that echoed in the vacuum chamber of the Stark legacy.

And then, miracles of miracles, Captain America's plane was found in the ice and snow and there he was, Steve Rogers, real and whole. The man Howard Stark had always held up as some impossible litmus test, the real make and merit of a man that no one could stand next to without becoming dwarfed and inconsequential. And Tony had pushed all the misplaced anger from his youth, all the anger at his father, into his interactions with Rogers, rebelling against the idea that he was some sort of stalwart pillar of justice, infallible and pristine.

Tony was well aware that he had a vicious tendency to overcompensate, only to rein himself back from the precipice. It'd been a self-destructive habit he'd been working on for years. He’d take it up to an eleven, then pull it back down to an eight. Peg had always helped in that respect, even before he'd found himself in that cave, fighting for his life.

But now Aunt Peg was gone.

His parents were gone.

And the Avengers were gone.

Everybody leaves.

"She would have hated it. Her funeral, I mean," Tony said, content to keep talking if Rogers was content to stay silent. "A room filled with people talking about how much good she'd done for the world?"

"She'd have said it was her job, that it'd been the right thing to do, simple as that." Steve agreed, smiling softly, almost able to hear Peggy's voice in his ear.

Tony made a sound as his eyes began tracing the letters of her name on the stone. "Everyone has a duty," Tony said, mimicking her accent as if he'd done it a thousand times before, "and that duty is to your fellow man."

Steve glanced down at Tony, watching as the man pulled another blade of grass from the ground and tore it in half down the middle. "She was an amazing person."

"She took me in after my parents died," Tony hummed. No. Not after they'd died. After they'd been murdered. "Refused to let me be alone at holidays. Aunt Peg, always telling me how proud Howard would have been, always saying that she knew I was a good man, that she'd never understand why I went out of my way to hide it."

Tony let the grass fall from his hand as he picked up the flowers beside him, the ones he'd pulled from the giant pots at the entrance to Stark Tower. They were his, technically, though he'd had no hand in their growth. He didn't have a garden of his own - couldn't have a garden of his own, not with the memories of her hands turning over the dirt - so they'd been his best option.

Tony left the yellow and purple fistfull of flowers at the base of her gravestone, brushing away an errant leaf so the grave was neat and tidy, just as she’d always been. “Peg would hate who I’ve become.”

Steve frowned, turning toward Tony. “She wouldn -”

“With all due respect Captain, shut the hell up and let me talk.” Tony waited in the silence, finally giving Steve a sideways glance before turning back to trace her birthdate and death date with his eyes.

“The Accords are not perfect. I know this. I knew even three years ago that they weren’t perfect.” Tony saw Steve shift his weight from one foot to another. “Oh, didn’t know that? They weren’t called the Sokovia Accords back then, they were just some boilerplate agenda that Ross had been working on. It was only after Sokovia that they got the brand new shiny name. But they were there. And Ross waited. He waited until we made a mistake, because we would make a mistake eventually, and when we did, he was there, ready to shove them down our throats.

“My lawyers had been working for months to get our foot in the door. Once I agreed to sign, it became easier. I finally had a hand in it. Well, King T’chaka and I. Working to make it into some kind of workable document. Something that worked for us, and with us. Amendments were made, more in the pipeline. So yeah, Cap, you were right.” Tony made a face at the words as they fell from his mouth, tasting bitter on his tongue. “Anyone who’s not us isn’t equipped to police us. So some of us were, or we were trying to. But it wasn’t you, so it didn’t matter, right?”

Tony frowned. “So instead of working with us, you proposed, what? No oversight? No post battle review? If we were police, after Sokovia they’d have yanked our badges and convened a panel to go over everything that day, to make sure what we did was above the board, that we did everything right, considering. And that’d be a good thing. Why shouldn’t the Avengers have that? What happens when one of us makes a mistake, something bad enough that we can’t get out of? That we can't overlook?”

“Then we deal with it as it happens,” Steve said, voice carefully neutral. “We can’t predict the future.”

“But we’ve seen the future. I have. Up there.” Tony pointed to the cloudless sky, finally turning to face Rogers. “And it is dark, and hard, and terrifying. We are not ready. We’re nowhere near ready.”

The therapist Tony had been seeing for the past few years told him that he needed to accept his near brush with death. But it wasn’t just that brush. It was the one before that. And the one before that. On and on, back even before the cave in Afghanistan. He was working on his anxiety, hard, and he’d been told he was showing rapid improvement.

It didn’t feel that way.

Tony sighed, stuffing his hands into his pockets, kicking at a leaf with the toe of his sneaker. He quieted the voice of doubt in his head, the one that repeated, over and over, that they were too broken to fix, that their made-family was fractured beyond repair. That idea was something Tony had become familiar with years ago, after all. Fractured. One machine he would never be able to put back together again, frail as the flowers Aunt Peg had cared for.

That was exactly the kind of inner dialogue he was working on. So much doubt, so much fear of saying things that made him vulnerable, especially to a man who’d made it pretty clear where they stood. But maybe that’s what it would take. A leap of faith that the man at his side wouldn’t brush him off, that maybe, just maybe, they could start to mend the things that had been shattered.

Tony’s brown eyes flicked toward the granite marker again and he chose to jump.

“We don’t have any chance at all if we aren’t working together. It’s what she would have wanted.”

Steve smiled softly, trying to imagine Peggy doting on a younger Tony. He’d never looked too far into Peggy’s life after he’d dropped beneath the ice, because of pain or acceptance, he wasn’t sure. He knew enough to visit, to see her face light up with recognition before it faded again. Any time he’d thought to delve further, something stopped him. Steve already felt like a man out of time, and if he saw the full life Peggy’d lived while he was stuck, frozen in that ice... He wasn’t sure he’d be able to carry it. His shoulders were already weighted down enough.

Tony took a deep breath. “So we need to fix this. Us. The Avengers. And the Accords. I’m pretty sure they still have an arrest warrant out for you and the rest of your ragtag group of high-risk high-profile prison escapees.”

“They do,” Steve said with a nod. “As for the prison escape... you know, it was the strangest thing. Someone had built in a back door, had already knocked out a few of their audio visual systems. It made it pretty easy to slip past security.”

“Mmm,” Tony hummed, rocking back on his heels, “yeah. That is a little odd.”

Steve let Tony have his moment, shaking his head slightly. He’d already spoken in depth with Sam about what had been said during Tony’s visit to the Raft. If the engineer wanted to ignore the hand he’d played in their escape, Steve was willing to let him do so. It didn’t change the fact that even as they were fighting, Tony had still been looking out for the team. “You’re right. I have to be pretty careful.”

“...but it’s her birthday.” Tony said, looking over at Rogers.

“It’s her birthday,” Steve agreed with a nod, blue gaze sliding back toward the gravestone. “If we’re going to make this work -”

“We’re going to have to come at it from all angles, yeah. A multi-pronged attack. Clear everyone’s names, get you back from Wakanda.” When Steve turned to look at the smaller man with an expression of surprise, Tony stopped him with a wave of his hand. “They’re advanced but they don’t have access to the satellites I do. I’ve worked with Shuri. She’s a genius. Anyway. It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that I’ve caught wind of an upcoming investigation, and unless Wakanda wants to become much more well known, you need to go someplace deeper.”

Steve’s eyes narrowed, feeling like this was less of a surprise meeting and more something that’d been planned. “You knew I’d be here.”

Tony nodded. “I did.”

“And you were here because you needed to talk to me.”

“No,” Tony said, with a hard shake of his head. “I was going to be here regardless. That you would be joining me was just a fortuitous bit of kismet.” He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and held it out to Steve. “An envoy from the World Council is planning on launching a fact-finding mission in Wakanda. He’s heard whispers that they’re harboring dangerous fugitives. You need to warn the King, and you need to leave. ASAP.”

Steve shook his head. “I can’t do that.”

“What do you mean you can’t? Can’t, or won’t?”

“I can’t leave him behind.” Steve turned to see Tony look away, his jaw clenching. Sighing, Steve leaned forward to lay the flowers from his hand next to Tony’s on the grass. He straightened, putting his hands in the pockets of his jacket. Silence descended over them again and Steve stood there, waiting for the words he knew were coming.

“You made the wrong call, Rogers,” Tony said through gritted teeth, once he'd calmed enough to speak.

“I know, and I’m sorry. I never meant -”

“For me to find out?” Tony turned to face him again, color high on his cheeks. “For me to know you were helping the man who murdered my parents, who murdered my mother?”

“Bucky didn’t -”

Tony cut him off, looking away. “No, it was the soldier. Not him. I know what you’re going to say. But his was the last face my mother ever saw. You should have told me before. I should have heard it from you.”

“I know.” Steve heard Tony’s snort of disbelief. Sighing again, Steve debated his next move, then went through with it despite his worried that the gesture would only cause them more pain. He lifted his arm and placed his hand on Tony’s shoulder, squeezing. He felt Tony go stiff, his body stilling like a statue. “I’m sorry I didn’t have the strength to tell you myself. I am sorry, Tony. I am.”

Tony’s eyes followed the careful lines on the tombstone as he struggled to keep his emotions under control..

Tony waited for the quiet to return to his body - until he could see more than just red - before he even thought about speaking. He was saved from having to pull away from Steve when the soldier did so himself, giving Tony’s shoulder one last squeeze before he broke contact. “Figure out how to get out of Wakanda, unless King T’Challa is open to having the World Council seeing everything. I think I’ve found a place for you to hide out, but let me worry about that part. You just worry about relocating.”

“And the arrest warrants?”

“Life on the run not your speed?” Tony saw the small flicker on a smile on Rogers' lips. “I’m working on that, too. It might take longer for you and…. But it’s mostly about politics, bullshit, and empty promises. So it's right up my alley.”

“You’re not just empty promises, Tony. She saw it in you,” Steve said with a nod in the gravestone's direction, “maybe it’s time you let everyone else see it, too.”

“If it’s all the same to you, I’ll pass on our hallmark moment,” Tony said with an errant wave of his hand.” You do yours. I’ll do mine. We’ll meet in the middle. It’ll be whole new territory for both of us.” Tony turned and began to walk away before pausing. He didn't turn, but spoke loud enough for Steve to hear. “Oh, and Cap?"

Steve looked up at Tony’s back.

"You should brush up on your French.”

“I don’t know what we’ll do without you, Darcy,” Erik Selvig stated, looking toward the small pile of haphazardly packed boxes near the door of Jane's London apartment. His frown deepened when another box was hefted onto the pile by the dark-haired intern.

Darcy cast a suspicious look toward the scientist over her glasses, one of her eyebrows raising. “We both know that’s not true. I was a glorified secretary.”

“Oh, Darce, don’t be so hard on yourself. You weren’t a secretary, you were more like a… receptionist?” Grinning at the younger woman’s eye roll, Jane Foster crossed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around her friend, resting her chin on Darcy's shoulder. “We really are going to miss you.”

“We knew this was going to happen," Darcy said as she lifted her arms and hugged Jane back. She was laying it on thick, pushing aside the emotion that threatened to overwhelm her, not wanting to make a fool of herself by crying. Jane and Erik had been in her life for years now, and the scientists had become more than just kooky nerds who spoke in riddles. She hesitated to call them family, but that was because she had no real experience to base it on. "This was just an internship. It was going to end sometime." She took a step back from Jane, hazel eyes shining. "...Unless you can add me onto the payroll?” Darcy sighed when both of them avoided direct eye contact, glancing down at their feet. “Thanks. Thanks a lot.”

Jane reached out and brushed her hand down Darcy's arm in a placating gesture. “You know we would if we could. S.H.I.E.L.D is funding our research now and they’re not the most trusting of people. We have security clearance but you -”

“Are a political science major who knows almost nothing of bi-frosts and nine other realms?”

Erik coughed, trying to hold in the correction but failing. “Eight. There are eight other realms. We’re part of the nine.”

“See?" Darcy said, hand waving through the air. "Like I said, I’m no help here with the science. Besides, I’ll be graduating in the spring. If you need me, you know how to reach me. Facebook. Twitter. Email. My cell. I’m available.”

“Do you have any post-grad plans?”

Darcy adjusted the hat on her head with a thoughtful look on her face, trying to decide how to answer Erik. She had been kicking a few options around, something she was both excited and terrified by, but she hadn't made a concrete decision what she was really going to do when she got back to the states, “I’ve been tossing around a few ideas. Currently, my only plans consist of going home and sleeping for a few weeks. When I surface, you’ll be the first to know.”

She watched a flurry of emotions pass behind Jane's eyes, feeling a matching swell of feelings in her own chest. She was going to miss Jane and Erik and all the other adventures that had come along with shlupping their stuff around and analyzing data. Somewhere in all the chaos, Darcy had realized just how incredible the world was, not to mention all the other worlds they knew about now. She'd become friends with an Asgardian little-g god, which was pretty sweet. So many possibilities existed out there now that Darcy was forced to decide what her place in all of it was.

It was existential, but not a crisis so much as a new understanding. She'd found her place with Jane and Erik, but now it was time to find out where the next leg of her journey led. Diving in before knowing what she was doing was a favored past time of Darcy's, and since it had led to her applying for the intern position with her friends, she was ready to do it all over again with something new.

Sniffling, Jane threw her arms around Darcy, squeezing her until she squeaked. When her hazel eyes met Erik's over Jane's shoulder, she could see that his eyes were wet as well. He took a step and gathered them both in his arms, and Darcy bit her lip to keep from crying. After a few moments, when she was certain she wouldn't become some blubbering mess, she took a large step backward. “Okay, okay, I get it, guys. I’m gonna miss you, too."

When a horn sounded from the street below, Darcy's eyes shifted toward the window, her stomach dropping. Now or never, Lewis. “That’s me,” Darcy chirped, putting extra effort into keeping her voice light and confident, despite her nerves. She pointed a finger at Erik, frowning softly in his direction. “Put on pants and help me put my stuff in the cab.”

When the shield hiding Wakanda from the rest of the world fizzled around the jet, Steve took in the mountainous terrain and bright glittering buildings of the capital city of Birnin Zana. The city was bustling with life, an entire civilization free from any kind of outside occupation or colonizing for centuries. Their advances in medical technology and treatments were incredible, and it was those advances that had brought Steve and Bucky there in the first place. Well, that and the fact that the rest of the world had no idea what Wakanda had hidden in the jungle.

Extradition didn't matter when no one knew you were more than mud huts and goat farmers.

When the jet landed, Steve slipped out of his jacket and walked down the bay doors, unsurprised to see Princess Shuri standing there in the sunshine, a look of anticipation on her face. "Princess," he said in greeting, giving her a small smile.

"We have gone over this, Captain Rogers. You can call me Shuri. There is no need for formalities."

"Then you have to stop calling me Captain," Steve mused, "as I'm pretty sure my rank's been taken away."

"No one can take away something that you are, Captain," Shuri said, her eyes lighting with affection for the soldier. "I trust you found what you needed?"

"About that..." Steve said, reaching up to scratch at the back of his neck.

Shuri raised an eyebrow at him, watching a flush of pink climb into Steve's cheeks that had little to do with the heat and humidity of the jungle that surrounded the city. "You wish to speak with my brother?" When Steve nodded at her, Shuri swept her arm toward the large doors that led into the royal palace. "Then you are in luck, as he is meeting with the other tribal leaders inside. I will take you to him."

As they started toward the building, Shuri pulled on one of her Kimoyo beads, a schematic hovering in the air just above her wrist. "As we walk, may I give you an update to Sergeant Barnes' progress?"

Stomach jumping, Steve glanced over at her. "Did something happen?"

"Oh, nothing worrying, I assure you, but my team have made some breakthroughs that I believe will please you. We were able to isolate a region of Barnes' limbic system that..."

Steve listened to Shuri's explanation of what the other Wakandan scientists had done, hearing the excitement in her voice. For almost two years, Shuri and her team had been working on correcting the damage Hydra had done to Bucky's mind. It wasn't as easy as removing the trigger words from Bucky's brain, because the years of wiping and freezing had done actual damage to his best friend's brain. The science Hydra had employed was experimental and the mess they'd made had been a challenge for the scientists. Steve had seen the frustration grow in Shuri month after month, feeling the same in his own chest. That they'd figured something out, enough that she practically vibrated with excitement, made his own pulse race. "Do you think you're close?"

"Yes, barring any new complications."

"How close?"

Something in Steve's voice drew Shuri's gaze, and her eyes took in the man at her side. When he'd first arrived, a spark of hope had colored his blue eyes, but that light had faded as weeks had turned to months, and months had grown to almost two years. As they'd taken a step forward then two steps back, Shuri had watched him grow quiet. Less sure. He visited her for updates, but there was barely a hint of the man she'd met that first day. Now that his eyes held the weight of something more, a frown turned the corners of Shuri's mouth down. "Has something happened?"

Looking over at the younger woman, Steve gave her a small smile. "Our time line might have been moved up." He was saved having to explain it all twice when the doors to their left opened and the tribal leaders appeared. Steve greeted them all warmly, having gotten to know them well over the time he'd spent in Wakanda. When it was just Shuri, Queen Ramonda, and T'Challa left, Steve reached out and shook the Wakandan king's hand. "Thanks for letting me borrow one of your pilots."

"It was my pleasure, Captain."

"He doesn't like being called that," Shuri sing-songed, grinning when T'Challa rolled his eyes at her.

"Shuri, perhaps we should leave Captain Rogers and your brother to their discussion."

"Actually, Queen Mother, I'd like all of you to be here." Steve saw Ramonda's eyes widen. He knew her role as Mother to the King was largely ceremonial, but he'd heard T'Challa speak highly of her, about how she'd married his father after the death of his mother, never making him feel like he was anything other than her son. She reminded Steve of Winifred Barnes, Bucky's mother, who'd all but adopted him and his mother when they'd needed help. She'd been an amazing woman, and he could see that same heart in the Queen Mother's eyes.

"Your voice makes me worried that this will not be a pleasant conversation," T'Challa said, a thread of concern in his voice.

Deciding that getting it all out at once was the best option, Steve took in a large breath. "When I was back in the states, I was told that a member of the World Council has its eyes on Wakanda for harboring fugitives. They’re planning on launching a fact-finding mission."

T’Challa shifted. "I promise you, Captain, that none of my people -"

"I know," Steve said without hesitation, "I'm not accusing your people of anything. You've done nothing but good by me and Bucky. More than we deserve."

"Exactly what you deserve," Ramonda said with a serene smile, reaching out to squeeze Steve's arm.

Nodding warmly at Ramonda, Steve turned his attention back to the king. "I'm not worried about myself. I'm worried about you and Wakanda. I know you'd rather keep your people hidden, and I would never dream of going against your wishes, but I think it might be best for all of us if Bucky and I relocated."

"Where will you go?"

A sigh lifted and dropped Steve's shoulders. He'd spent a long time considering Tony's proposition, and despite their past arguments and animosities, he trusted Tony. If Tony said he'd find them a safe place, he believed the engineer. "I'm not exactly sure, but it's being worked out right now. I think we've got a little time. Two weeks, maybe less."

"But what of Sergeant Barnes?"

The three adults looked over at Shuri, watching as she brought a hand to her mouth and tapped her lips thoughtfully, eyes lighting as she worked on the problem before her. "I was telling Captain Rogers that I believe we've made a major breakthrough. It's possible we'd be at a point in the next week where we can remove Sergeant Barnes from cryostasis. It will take us longer to get him ready for travel, and I've designed a new prosthetic to replace the one that was destroyed. I will take all the time I can get, but I believe we can do what we promised when you first arrived."

T'Challa nodded at Shuri's words before looking over at Steve. The soldier was still, quiet, a swell of thoughts behind his eyes, and T'Challa could feel a hesitance in the other man. "Are you certain leaving is what you wish to do? When I offered you shelter in Wakanda, there was no time limit and no stipulations. If you wish to stay, we will do everything we can to keep you and Sergeant Barnes safe."

Steve's gaze was filled with gratitude as he looked at T'Challa before nodding. "I knew when we left that we'd be hunted, but we never wanted it to affect you or your people. I won't allow our actions and choices to jeopardize you and yours. What you've done for us..." Trailing off because he wasn't able to adequately express his feelings of appreciation, Steve tried to put in his eyes what he couldn't put into words. "Bucky and I won't forget it."

"And we won't forget what you have done for us," Ramonda said, reaching out to grip Steve's hands with both of hers. "You brought my husband's killer to justice. Wakanda will always welcome you, Captain Rogers."

Squeezing her hand, Steve gave the Queen Mother a grateful smile. "Thank you."

T'Challa lifted his arm, clapping Steve on the shoulder and directing him toward the doors. "Come, let Shuri show us her supposed breakthrough."

"There is nothing supposed about it, brother," Shuri groused, trailing after T'Challa and Steve when they started toward her lab.

Chapter Text

“Mme. Lewis? Il y a quelqu'un ici pour te voir.” (Ms. Lewis? There is someone here to see you.)

Darcy raised an eyebrow at the small tremor in Janette’s voice. She’d been a paralegal in this office for over a year and she’d never heard any kind of emotion in the secretary’s tone. The woman was part rock, Darcy was sure of it. And not a happy rock. No pet rock here. She was something closer to iron ore. In expensive heels.

“Est-ce un client?” (Is it a client?)

“Non,” Janette said, glancing over at the closed door, “non, pas un client.” (No. No, it’s not a client.)

Eyes narrowing slightly, Darcy hitched the casefiles higher on her hip and pushed open the door to the conference room. Whoever was here to see her was already sitting in one of the horribly uncomfortable chairs, back to her and rocking slightly from side to side.

“Je suis désolé, je ne me souviens pas d'avoir fait une réunion -” (I'm sorry, I don’t remember having a meeting -)

“You didn’t,” the voice interrupted her quickly. “We need to have a chat and it’s fairly time sensitive so I took a chance and look! Here you are, ready for our chat. Like magic.”

Darcy recognized the voice, and when the chair turned to face her, her suspicions were confirmed. “Mr. Stark,” she said, switching to English. Why the frilly fuck was Tony Stark wanting to meet with her? With her?

“Ms. Lewis,” Tony said, yellow-lensed glasses tinting his eyes as he gazed at her, one corner of his mouth tipped up in a small, self-satisfied smirk.

“What can I do for you?” When the words fell from Darcy’s mouth, she immediately regretted them. It was too good of a line for someone to pass up. She readied for it, giving herself brownie points for knowing exactly how he’d respond to her question.

“It’s really what I can do for you,” Tony said, removing his glasses and hanging them on the neck of his Ramones t-shirt. “I’m in need of some help and I’ve been told that you’re the woman to see about remedying some sticky international red tape we’re experiencing.”

She raised an eyebrow in his direction. “We?”

“We. Us. The Avengers.”

“Huh,” Darcy hummed, cocking her head to the side, “last I heard the Avengers had broken up. Half of you in hiding as fugitives, the other half hunting the first half down…” She set her files on the table, leveling a careful look in his direction. “Seems like you weren’t having a hard time with the… how did you put it? ‘Sticky international red tape’.”

Tony looked at her for a beat, facial expression unchanging, and Darcy had the brief thought that maybe she’d gone too far. She could tell he was thinking behind those glasses, most likely deciding how loudly to yell at her. She’d never spoken to Tony Stark and she wasn’t exactly sure where her antagonizing tone had come from, but she couldn’t take it back now.

That’s it, Darcy. Turn into the skid.

He smiled at her hawkishly. “Yes, well, after careful reflection, it seems we need something better. I still believe the Accords had the best intentions -” Tony raised an eyebrow at her derisive snort, “but you know what they say about the best intentions.”

“Yeah. They’re fucking idiotic,” Darcy said, eyes flashing with barely concealed annoyance. Fuck, she hated those Accords.

Tony stared at her again before he leaned forward and pressed his hands onto the table. “I’m sorry, did I do something personally to offend you or do you just treat all everyone without an appointment like this? Because I’m feeling a lot of hostility directed at me from that side of the table and I can’t exactly tell why.” Tony’s voice was still affable and light, as it almost always was, but he was beginning to understand why Thor had referred to Darcy Lewis as a ‘warrior of the highest regard and a shieldmaiden the Valkyries would be proud to call their own’.

“Oh, you know, just upset about forced inscription of enhanced persons, governmental overreach that could be used to force those enhanced persons to carry out political assassinations, or turn them into thugs to strong arm weaker nations. Not to mention that the Accords are morally bankrupt, were written by a tyrannical military man who’s already shown to hold contempt for one of yours, and doesn’t expand to cover half the situations that they should.”

Again Tony was silent for a minute, looking at her carefully, almost judgingly, and Darcy’s chin jutted out defiantly. She meant what she said and wasn’t going to take it back. Her eyes narrowed dangerously when Tony snorted with laughter. “Oh, is that funny to you?”

“No, you just remind me of someone. Actually, a few someones. Which is why I’m here.”

Darcy sat down in a chair, crossing her arms over her chest as she looked over at him, nodding for him to continue.

“I asked around and was given your name by several sources. You were very vocal about your dislike of the Accords, enough to make people sit up and notice. You’ve argued against them on news outlets and had some articles published in ‘important scholarly law journals’.”

He said the last like it was a joke and she could hear the use of air quotes in his voice. This did not make Darcy any happier.

“So you know your stuff. And that’s helpful. It’s also helpful that you’re already Avenger adjacent,” Tony said, ignoring the chair and pacing down the length of the conference table.

“How’s that now?”

“Avenger adjacent,” he repeated, gesturing to her with his hand. “You were there in New Mexico. Met the Asgardian. Tased him, or so I’ve been told. I’ve been wondering how the god of thunder and lightning was brought down by electricity but seeing as he wasn’t ‘worthy’ at the time, I supposed it’s possible. And then you were there in London, helped save the world. Again.”

When Darcy’s mouth opened, he cut her off. “Yeah, that wasn’t really you, and you don’t have superpowers, and you were just there for the ride, yadda yadda yadda, I know. Regardless, you were there. You’ve seen how this goes. People get hurt, people who shouldn’t get hurt, and that’s why I threw in with the Accords. There has to be some sort of accountability. For everyone. I know a thing or two about that now. Accountability.”

Darcy looked at him, waiting. He didn’t say anything, just contined to look out the window at the traffic below. It sounded like he’d trailed off in the middle of a thought, tongue clicking as he turned it over in his mind. From what she’d heard of him, he wasn’t overly worried about self-reflection, but that seemed to be exactly what he was doing. She watched Tony as he looked down at the constant movement of Paris on the other side of the glass, wondering if this was his new normal, after everything she knew had happened. Finally, she spoke, breaking the silence that had descended on the conference room. “What is it you think I can do for you, Mr. Stark?”

She could tell she startled him, drawing him out of wherever he’d just gone, but he hid it well. He turned towards her, pacing, more determination on his face. “We’re fighting the Accords. Behind the scenes. I mean, I’ve been fighting it since it was created years ago, but we can’t do it publicly, not after what happened in Geneva. We’d lose any ounce of credibility if we flat out refuse to follow the protocol now. I never thought the Accords were the end of everything. They were a starting point. A way to gain back the trust we lost after New York. A way to show we realized we weren’t an unaccountable super power, above the law and answering to no one. Then everything got so much more complicated.”

She watched him grow quiet again, running a hand over his face. She didn’t know him from Adam, just what she’d seen or read about, but he looked… tired. When the silence had gone past the point of uncomfortable and was breezing toward awkward as hell, Darcy leaned forward. “Mr. Stark, I don’t -”

“I need your help.” Tony turned to look at her, an expression on his face as if he didn’t like the way that sentence had tasted. She supposed he didn’t need to ask for help very often, let alone to someone as mundane as her. “Several of our people need the Accords to be amended in such a way that they’re able to return home without the threat of arrest and imprisonment. We can’t be fractured like we are, not if we’re going to make it out alive. I’ve seen what comes next, and we can’t do it like we are now. We need help. We need your help. To save the world. Again.”

Darcy blinked at him.

He blinked back..

Finally, after several tense and silent seconds, he took a step forward, hand gesturing through the air in her direction. “Really? That did nothing for you? The whole ‘save the world’ thing? That usually causes more of a reaction. It doesn’t matter.” He threw himself into the chair nearest her like he owned the place, pressing a button on the device around his wrist. “Look, I’ve read your file -”

“My file?”

A small projection floated in the air above his arm, a picture of her with a wall of text hanging in the space, and when he flicked down she caught more pictures as they flew by. From New Mexico. London. Home in Virginia. Here in Paris. Tony Stark had a file on her. Or, more likely, S.H.I.E.L.D. and the rest of the Avengers had a file on her.

“Yes. Like I said before: Avenger adjacent. You have things that make you, specifically you with a capital Y, the best person for this assignment. We need your mind, Ms. Lewis. We need your spunk, and your moxie, and your ability to function on the sidelines but still work toward the main goal. And that goal is now to make the Accords work for us and not the other way around. I have thoughts. Let’s work together. That’s what you want, right? You want to make a difference? What better way can you think to help than fixing what’s broken?”

Darcy looked up at him, wondering if he was like this with everyone or if she was the only lucky one experiencing this extra-caffeinated pseudo-desperate version of Tony Stark. “I still don’t know what you want from me.”

He pressed another button at his wrist. “Your brain, Ms. Lewis. We need your brain. And your uncle’s place in Ardennes. It’s all there in the email. Read it, see if it fits your idea of ‘world saving’ and get back to me. All my contact info’s there. I’m around.” He stood, grabbing his glasses and slipping them on. “Merci beaucoup for your time. We look forward to hearing from you.”

Darcy grabbed her phone as he moved to push through the doors. She opened the email, eyes skimming the document, widening a few seconds later. “The fuck?!” Her voice echoed off the walls and glass windows of the conference room.

Tony kept walking, ignoring Darcy’s screech, flashing the woman behind the reception desk a bright smile as he left.

Slowly, like the sun rising, Bucky felt consciousness dawn in his mind. His thoughts were sluggish, slow like marmalade, and he focused on the sounds around him. It felt like he was underwater, everything muted and cotton, but the longer he listened, the clearer it became. "Mrrhhppfff," he hummed, the sound louder than he'd expected.

"Buck?" Steve took a step closer to the bed Bucky was laid in, the other man's dark hair sticking up in all directions. Steve had the desire to reach out and smooth his hand over the errant strands, but he held himself back, not sure if Bucky would want anyone touching him yet. "Can you hear me?"

Bucky's eyelids fluttered against the bright light, face pulling into a grimace. He couldn't feel his body, and for a split second panic rose in Bucky's chest like a tsunami wave. He forced his eyes open wider, looking from side to side, trying to place where he was. As the fog lifted from his mind, Bucky looked up into the eyes of his best friend. A moment of déjà vu crashed over him, memories of something similar lighting his gray gaze. "Steve?"

Letting out a small sigh of relief, Steve moved closer so Bucky could see him clearer. "It's me, Buck. You're okay."

"Wh -" Bucky's voice cut out from disuse and he turned his head, coughing.

Steve looked over at Shuri. "Can he have water?" When she nodded, Steve grabbed a cup and filled it, taking the straw Shuri offered. He brought it to Bucky's mouth, helping him get a drink. Bucky sucked greedily, clearing his throat several times before settling back against the bed.

Swallowing painfully, Bucky kept his eyes on Steve. Slowly, memories began to filter back in his mind. He remembered Siberia, returning to the base Hydra had stored him in between missions. He remembered the other Winter Soldier's bodies, killed and still in their cryotubes. The video. Maria Stark's voice calling out 'Howard' then being cut off by a hand closing around her neck. His hand.

Tony Stark.

The fight.

Losing his arm again.

As things began to line up, each of them compounded by pain and regret, Bucky refused to look away from Steve, the only thing he'd ever been one-hundred percent sure about. "How long?"

It wasn't hard for Steve to figure out what Bucky was asking. Holding his best friend's gaze, he knew the answer wouldn't be easy for the other man to accept. "Almost two years."

Two years. He'd been back on ice for two years. Bucky supposed it could have been worse, considering the decades he'd spent frozen under Hydra control, and he'd made no expectations on how long it would take Shuri and her scientists to figure out how to tear down what Hydra had built. He could see worry in Steve's eyes, the blue more familiar than his own, and he attempted to give the other man a smile but wasn't certain he succeeded. "So what's new?"

Steve's eyes fell closed, a laugh huffing out of his lungs at Bucky's nonchalant question. When his eyes opened and he saw the look on Bucky's face shift toward something darker, Steve leaned forward, concern forcing a frown on his face. "Hey, you're okay."

The swing from acceptance to anger had been absolute and sudden, the whiplash leaving Bucky gasping for air. When he felt Steve's hand on his arm, Bucky jerked away, his voice a hiss. "Don't touch me!” He watched worry color Steve's eyes, his own widening from their glare when he realized he'd felt Steve grab his arm. He looked down in shock, blinking heavily at the dark-metal prosthetic that was wholly unfamiliar. He looked up at Steve, no words falling from his mouth, his pulse racing as he took in gasping breaths of air.

"Sergeant Barnes, my name is Shuri. Do you remember me?" Gaze flicking over to the young woman, it took Bucky a minute before nodding. "Good," she continued, "we removed you from cryo earlier this afternoon. Are you in any pain? How are you feeling?"

Still shaking his head from side to side, Bucky could do nothing but blink at her for several seconds before he focused on lowering his heart rate and taking stock of his own body. He wasn't in any pain, other than a sore throat, and that alone was enough to still him completely, his entire person going as still as a statue. He remembered the agony of losing his arm all over again, seeing the sparks and wires that had acted as his nerves, feeling that pain as clearly as the first time, when he'd fallen from the train. But now, as he concentrated, he felt nothing but a pleasant warm sensation, nearly indistinguishable from his right arm.

"No pain," he answered with a shake of his head, "little tingly."

"That's your nerves waking up. You may experience it for the next few days. It should not be painful, but if it is, please notify us immediately." Shuri smiled when she looked over at him, his lips flattening as he nodded. "As you can see we have replaced your prosthetic, but again, if you experience anything that concerns you, let me know. Do you have any questions?"

Bucky blinked his gray eyes at her, uncertain how to explain the vacillating and uncontrollable emotions that seemed to rise and then disappear in an instant. His gaze flicked over to Steve, who'd straightened his back and was watching him closely. "Did you get it?" When Steve's head cocked to the side, Bucky turned back to Shuri. "Did you get them out?"

Shuri grabbed a chair and wheeled it closer, taking a seat next to the bed. She waited for the tension in his body to fade before nodding. "The neural connections that Hydra built and the conditioning they created have been removed. Hearing those words will not trigger any form of temporary amnesia or control pliability. Whatever hold Hydra had over your mind has been erased."

Steve watched Bucky regard Shuri with doubt. "He needs to hear them," Steve said, watching the woman look in his direction. "The words that triggered him. It's the only way to know for sure."

"Steve," Bucky breathed, watching those blue eyes turn back to him, "if anything -"

Taking a step forward, Steve shook his head. "I won't let you hurt anyone. I promise."

Bucky peered up at Steve, heart beginning to race anew, fear now pinging through his body. His eyes flicked toward Shuri, nodding stiffly at her before his gaze swung back to Steve, holding his best friend's eyes, jaw clenching with anxiety. He could hear his heart pounding, the blood rushing through his ears, and for a second he wondered if he'd even be able to hear her voice past the crash of noise in his head. When she started speaking, however, he heard each word with perfect clarity.

"Желание. Ржaвый. Семнадцать. Рассвет."

When Bucky's eyes widened, Steve took in a breath and held it. He could practically see the terror flashing behind his friend's gaze, but Bucky had made no movement other than his eyes, his body motionless as Shuri continued.

"Печь. Девять. Добросердечный."

Even through her accent, Bucky could make out the words that had fueled his nightmares. He waited for the pull to start in his chest, for the desperate claw to start up his throat, but neither came. He felt each word like a knife in his skin, feeling like his flesh would split and he would bleed for not complying, but he continued to hear his own thoughts in his head, and not the Soldier's.

"возвращение на родину. Один. грузовой вагон."

As the last words fell past Shuri's lips, a breath hissed from Bucky and he fell back against the bed, every line of his body filled with exhaustion. Steve watched Bucky deflate and the fear fade from his eyes. His lips twitched when the gray eyes he'd grown up with - deep and honest and whole - blinked up at him. "You good?"

Bucky's pink tongue darted out to swipe along his full bottom lip, giving Steve a tired nod of his head. Turning his eyes to Shuri, Bucky gave her a nod as well. "You did it."

"I had my best people working on you, Sergeant Barnes. I am pleased to see our efforts were successful. I know you must be tired after everything, so I will let you get some rest. There will be much for us to discuss when you wake."

Steve watched Shuri rise from her chair and leave, pulling the door shut behind her as she went. He turned back to Bucky, watching the soldier settle back against his pillows, a look of tiredness crossing his features. "How are you really feeling?"

An eyebrow raised in Steve's direction, Bucky moving his new prosthetic experimentally. "Like I just woke up from a nap," he answered, frowning when he heard the flippancy in his tone. Letting out a large sigh, Bucky focused on the man at his side. He was still raw, feeling as if his emotions were shifting from second to second, and it took him a long moment before he could speak again without the desire to scream with no concrete reason as to why. "I... never dreamed."

When Steve looked at him with concern, Bucky tried explaining. "When I was the Soldier, every time I was put back under, it was just nightmare after nightmare. When I went under this time, it was quiet. It was the first good sleep I've had since..."

"Since the train," Steve finished for him, proven right when Bucky nodded.

"Do you know what it feels like to sleep and not be afraid of what you see in the darkness?"

Steve looked down at his hands, bushing his fingertips over the soft blanket. "Not in a while."

Bucky frowned, whatever emotions were still swinging inside him pushed back by a flash of concern. "Are you okay?"

Looking up sharply, an expression of disbelief lifted Steve's eyebrows. "Me? You're worried about me?"

Tongue clicking, Bucky hesitated before reaching out with his hand. His fingers hovered in the air, as if he wasn't sure if what he was doing was a good idea, but Bucky's hand wrapped around Steve's forearm and squeezed softly. "I always worry about you, punk."

Punk. The word alone flooded Steve with emotion, the air in his lungs slipping out the longer he looked into the eyes of his best friend. Getting him back then losing him just as quickly was like a kind of torture. Time had become a kind of torture. It'd all but stopped for him when Bucky'd gone back under, and seeing his best friend whole and seemingly free of the chain Hydra had wrapped around him, Steve couldn't help but feel seconds away from falling apart. When Bucky's hand fell away, Steve felt the loss of heat like a punch in the gut. "You should get some rest. You don't look too hot."

The chuckle that passed Bucky's lips sounded rusty and hollow, nothing like what he remembered. "If that's a joke about me just coming off of ice, it was pretty low hanging fruit."

"You always had a better sense of humor than I did," Steve mused, one corner of his mouth lifting upward in a smirk. When a real smile lit Bucky's face, Steve's grin grew in response. "You sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

Relief filled Bucky's eyes at his assurance that he wasn't going anywhere, and Steve watched as Bucky shifted until he found a comfortable position. In no time, the deep and even breaths of sleep sounded from the bed and the man in it. Steve sat back in his chair, letting his eyes flow over his best friend's face, as if he hadn't already committed every inch of Bucky to memory. Everything had happened so fast - seeing Bucky on that bridge, waking up to find him gone, finding him again, protecting him from Tony, bringing him to Wakanda, and losing him again to cryo - that it all seemed like a blur.

For the first moment since he'd found out Bucky was still alive, Steve felt a kind of peace settle over him. Whatever came next, as long as Bucky was at his side, they'd get through it.

Chapter Text

Darcy took a deep breath, staring at the phone in her hands. The call needed made, she knew, but actually doing it was something harder. The only time she’d ever spoken to Tony Stark was when he’d asked for her help, and she knew her animosity for the Sokovia Accords was being directed at him because he was the person she associated with the law, but Darcy found it hard to press that little green button.

Just fucking do it, Lewis, she thought, letting out a burst of annoyed air before her fingertip swiped over the screen and the call was placed. It rang once, twice, three times, then she heard Tony Stark’s voice in her ear.

”Who uses a phone anymore? Hang up and send me a text like a normal person.”

When the line clicked off, Darcy’s jaw dropped and she pulled the phone away from her face, glaring down at the thing like it’d offended her. Considering the device was filled with Stark technology, it wasn’t too far off. Her fingers flew across the screen and she grumbled to herself as she typed. “Stupid ass… gives a phone number… doesn’t want calls… asshole...”

Darcy: Did you just hang up on me?

Luckily for her anger level, Tony was quick to respond.

Tony: I screen all my calls, you're not special
Darcy: You knew I'd be calling
Tony: It's 2018, get with the times

The sound that ripped from her throat was strangled and colored with annoyance. Darcy grit her teeth, eyes narrowing so much that the phone screen was blurry as she hit the green button again. This time, it seemed he'd learned from his earlier mistake and she only heard two rings before she heard his voice.

"Yes?"

"Look here, asshole, if you expect me to -"

"Are you in?"

The air in Darcy's lungs huffed out, tongue clicking in her mouth. She glared at the world outside her window, her lips pulling in a straight line, wondering if this man was worth the effort. But it wasn't just Tony Stark. This job offer came with the opportunity to effect real change in the world, the exact reason she'd gone back to get her law degree in the first place. Not only that, but she'd be, in essence, protecting Captain America. would be protecting Captain America! The opportunity of a lifetime had been thrust in front of her, and she wasn't going to let Tony Stark and his sea-urchin like exterior and horrible social skills hold her back. "Not unless you apologize to me."

The silence from the other side of the phone was deafening, but Darcy knew better than to assume the call had been cut. Tony Stark was Tony Stark, and the words 'I'm sorry' probably didn't pass his lips very often. Finally, she heard him clear his throat.

"That's not -"/

Darcy's hair slid over her shoulders as she shook her head. "Nope, Stark, I want to hear the words. If we're going to be working together as close as we are, if I'm going to take on the risk of aiding and abetting two fugitives, then you're going to say the words." It was presumptuous of her to say, but if things were as bad as they sounded - and she believed they were - then she was their Hail Mary pass. They needed her, and she wasn't going to let Stark forget it. Another moment of silence passed before she heard him exhale on the other side of the line.

"I’m sorry," his voice came, though she could practically see his eyes roll from across the globe.

She smiled to herself, sitting back in her chair as her body relaxed. "Alright then. I have a few other conditions."

"Of course you do."

"I'm uprooting my life here," Darcy said, frowning softly, "and I'm okay doing it, but I can't give up all my electronics."

"If it's used to track you -"

"Give me something to put my music on, okay? It doesn't have to hook up to the internet, doesn't need wifi, but I won't survive without something. You're a goddamn genius, I'm sure you can figure something out. I also need a face-to-face with Rogers."

"A meeting with him might be difficult."

"We're going to be living together. I need to know what I'm getting myself into. I know it's dangerous for him to travel, but I've got a friend with a place in Norway that we can trust."

"Selvig?"

"Yeah."

Darcy heard Tony's teeth chatter together as he thought about her requests. "Give me a week. I'll make it happen."

"I'll wait to hear from you, then," Darcy said, nodding to herself as if she'd needed this call to make the offer real. This was actually happening. It was an assignment she'd been wanting to do anyway, right? Wasn't that the reason she'd started this all in the first place? So why did her stomach flutter at the thought? Probably because you'll be living with and assisting two of the most wanted criminals on the planet, who you've never met, on foreign soil, with no idea how long it will take. That's enough reason for stomach flutters.

"You sure you up for this?"

She snorted. "Are you?"

"Touché. I'll get you the details."

When the line clicked over, Darcy tossed her phone on the couch cushion next to her. She took in a deep breath and let it pass her lips slowly, her mind turning over how much her life was about to change. "I need a drink," she said to the empty room.

Steve watched Bucky's fists slam against the punching bag, the muscles under his shirt straining and sliding as he moved faster and faster. There was a focus to the hits, jabs and undercuts like fury as he pushed himself, and Steve's mind supplied him with the knowledge of just how much power those knuckles held. He watched Bucky's body go still, a small movement of his head the only sign that Bucky knew someone was behind him. "How's the arm?"

Pressing his palms to the leather bag, Bucky breathed out for four counts then in, slowing his heart rate, feeling the blood rushing in his ears. He wasn't sure how long he'd stood there, the motions of fighting like second nature. It'd been automatic, robotic, and he'd used the time to let his mind drift. He was still getting used to the prosthetic Shuri had designed. Bucky's old arm had been heavy, the chrome and circuitry like a weight that drug him down, but this new arm was different, lighter than he was used to, and he'd broken several doorknobs by accident because he didn't know his new strength.

"'s fine," Bucky said with a shrug, stilling the swing of the bag with a hand as he turned toward Steve, lifting his arm and brushing at the hair that'd plastered to his skin with sweat. "It's light."

Nodding, Steve took a step closer, crossing his arms over his chest. "Think it'll be hard to compensate?"

Bucky hesitated, not wanting to admit any vulnerabilities, knowing how they could be used for punishment. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, reminding himself that Hydra was not in control any longer, and that he could trust Steve. He was one of the only people he could trust. "Need time on the range to be sure."

"We can set up time in the next few days." When Bucky's gray eyes flicked up at his words, Steve saw the flash of recognition in their depths. His best friend had always been good at reading between the lines, and it appeared he knew there was an conversation on the agenda. "We need to talk." The second he said the words and realized how ominous they sounded, Steve reached up to brush the hair from his forehead.

Bucky crossed to the towel he'd been using and wiped it along his brow and the back of his neck, saying nothing but looking at Steve with expectation.

Steve followed Bucky, fingers tightening on his upper arms as he tried to find the best way to explain the changes in front of them. "We have to leave Wakanda soon."

Gray eyes blinked at Steve, no outward sign of emotion on Bucky's face. "They kicking us out?"

"No, no, nothing... no. T'Challa offered to let us stay, but I don't think we can."

Bucky gave a small nod of his head, understanding sparking through him. "Because we're a target."

"The World Council's looking at Wakanda, and part of that's my fault."

"Our fault," Bucky corrected, stretching his arms over his head, feeling the ache in the muscles he hadn't used for years.

A small smile lifted Steve's lips and the blond looked down at his feet. Steve had gotten into an unimaginable amount of trouble growing up, never backing down from a fight, and whenever he'd thrown his hat in the ring Bucky had been there beside him, in for a penny and in for a pound. It was familiar, and he'd missed it. "Our fault," he agreed, seeing the slightest twitch of Bucky's lips. "Tony heard talk of an investigation and suggested we get out."

Hearing Stark's name was enough to sober Bucky, remembering what had happened at the base in Siberia and how he'd ruined the life Steve had built. The memories of the pain in Stark's eyes made him go still, feeling the guilt over what he'd done to the man and his family. Steve seemed to recognize the struggle inside of his chest, and his expression softened, which only made Bucky shift in his seat. He didn't need pity for what he'd done. He didn't deserve it. "Where?"

"He's working on that. I'll be leaving on Thursday to meet his contact so we can work out all the details."

Bucky nodded, the thought of Steve leaving not sitting well in his stomach. Princess Shuri and her people were nice enough, but they weren't familiar. They weren't home. They weren't Steve. "You trust him?"

Steve’s immediate response was ‘absolutely,’ but he held his tongue so he could really consider Bucky’s question. His falling out with Tony had been hard, and he’d been running from that fight for nearly two years, chest filling with righteous fury only to flip to guilt within in the span of seconds. He knew the fracture hadn’t been solely his fault, and Steve knew Tony’s pain was honest and real, but it’d been Bucky. There’d been no other way to explain it to the man, and the emotional destruction that had followed was regrettable but true

“Yeah,” Steve answered Bucky with a nod, “I suppose you could think of this as his version of an olive branch. He wants to help, and I believe he’ll do what he says.”

He wanted to agree with Steve, to take Tony at his word, but Bucky had learned through punishment that trusting someone completely only led to pain. It’d been a difficult lesson to learn, over and over, but the knowledge had kept him alive thus far. Other than Steve, Bucky trusted no one. “Timeline?” he asked, shoulders falling as he looked up at the blond.

“Quick, maybe a week.”

Bucky nodded, climbing back to his feet and draping the towel over his shoulder. “Better get moving then. Need to get my strength back.”

Steve’s eyes followed Bucky’s route back toward the bag, watching as he squared his shoulders and brought his fists to the leather over and over and over. The concentration on Bucky’s face was absolute, and Steve saw something flash behind the other man’s eyes as something else took residence in that gray, something colder and foreign.

He’d never considered what it was like to have an entirely different person in your head, but Steve could see the slide from Bucky to the soldier happen in real time, and the shiver that ran up his spine lifted the hair on his arms. He knew it had only been a couple of days since Bucky’d come out of cryo, but Steve knew he’d need to keep a careful eye on his best friend.

Steve left Bucky to his workout, leaving the gym so he could find T’Challa and make arrangements for travel.

When Steve passed through the doors and the gym grew quiet, Bucky’s fists stopped their assault, his heavy breathing the only sound. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to the soft leather of the bag, slowing his heart rate again, this time because of the thread of anxiety that curled in his chest. He trusted Steve. He trusted Steve. He trusted Steve.

Pushing through the panic that threatened to overwhelm him, Bucky pressed the bag away from him before his knuckles began hitting, the sound of flesh hitting leather filling the room.

Chapter Text

“Are you sure you don’t want anything? I could make -”

“Viggy, we’ll be fine,” Darcy said with a roll of her eyes, unsurprised when her stomach rolled once as well. She was nervous, her foot tapping out a steady rhythm on the linoleum of the small kitchen.

She’d arrived at Erik’s home the previous day, using the visit as an excuse to spend time with a man she’d come to consider family. They’d spent the day together, Erik taking Darcy on a small tour of the town he’d grown up in. It wasn’t exactly a bustling city, but it’d held charm all on it’s own, and she’d happily taken in the sights he wanted to share.

As the older man continued to move around the kitchen, Darcy followed him with her eyes, a small frown on her face. If she was nervous, Erik looked like he was about to have a breakdown. He flitted from place to place, picking something up just to put it back down again. Something was wrong, that much was true, and it hit Darcy square in the face when she realized why.

“He’s not going to blame you for what happened in New York,” Darcy said, Erik going still at her words. He turned to look at her over his shoulder, an expression of uncertainty crossing his face. “Erik, it wasn’t your fault. You got mind whammied by Thor’s little bitch brother. Not your fault.”

“It’s easier to say that than to believe it,” Erik said, shoving a dishrag into a cabinet and out of sight.

“Erik, you’ve -”

Darcy’s words were cut off with a knock sounded at the front door. The pair shared a look before Darcy stood, running damp palms over her jeans, trying to ignore how her heart raced as Erik left the room to open the door.

Steve gave Erik a nod when the door was pulled open, noting the scientist’s widened eyes and pale cheeks. “Dr. Selvig. It’s good to see you again.”

Erik stared at Steve’s outstretched hand before clasping it with his own. “Of course, happy to help facilitate,” he said. He swept his arm through the air and opened the door wider. “Come in, come in.”

Steve moved past Selvig and into the interior of the small apartment. It wasn’t fancy, by any means, but it looked lived in. Papers littered a desk in the corner of the living area, a collage of photos covering one wall, and a whiteboard covered in calculations hinted at the work he seemed to be in the middle of. “How’s your work coming along?”

“It’s moving, but things change so quickly now,” Erik said with a sigh, casting a glance toward his current problem.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Steve said with a smile, happy when Erik looked over at him, a bit of the nerves fading from his eyes. “I appreciate you letting us do this here. I’ve got a lot of eyes looking for me.”

“The hoodie helps,” Darcy said, emerging from the kitchen, hovering in the doorway between the two rooms.

Steve looked over at the dark-haired woman. She was shorter than he expected, her hazel eyes bright, and as she leaned against the doorjamb with one of her shoulders, he could see a definitive lack of artifice. He’d done a little research on her, read through the files Tony had given him, but he knew better than most that files did very little to give the true merit of someone’s character.

“I had a good teacher give me a few pointers,” Steve replied, remembering the lessons Natasha’d taught him about blending in with a crowd.

“The glasses are a nice touch, too. You’re really pulling off the Clark Kent thing.”

“Clark Kent?”

Darcy’s eyes widened. “Oh! Sorry, he’s the alter ego of -”

“I’m just kidding,” Steve said with a lopsided grin, “I know about Superman. I liked the originals better than the new ones.”

“Which means you’ve got good taste,” Darcy mused, watching the corners of his mouth twitch. She pushed off the wall and held her hand out to Steve. “I’m Darcy Lewis.”

“Steve Rogers,” Steve said, darting forward to take her hand and squeeze it softly. “I’ve heard good things about you.”

“Your lying needs a little work, though,” Darcy joked, vindicated when he gave her a soft chuckle. “Did you want something to drink? Coffee? Something harder?”

“Oh, no, I’m fine, thank you.” In his peripheral vision, Steve saw Selvig move down a hallway, darting into a room before pulling the door shut behind him. “Is he…?”

“It’s been a little touch and go since… well, all the bad stuff that’s happened over the past few years. He’s a literal genius,” Darcy said, affection in her tone, “but social interactions are a bit hard. When you’ve got a brain that big, it doesn’t leave much room for small talk. We could talk in the kitchen?”

“Of course.” Steve followed her toward the kitchen, eyes sliding over a few photos that had been taped to the wall. He recognized a few of the people in them but his eyes didn’t linger, instead focusing on the task at hand.

Darcy slid into one of the seats near the small table shoved in the galley kitchen, hands brushing over the formica top. She wasn’t sure how he managed it, being as big as he was, but Steve folded himself into the chair across from her. “So, what’s it like being a man on the run and one of America’s most wanted?“

“I’ve had better days,” Steve answered with a shrug of his shoulder, “but I’ve also have worse.”

“So a happy medium.” When he nodded, Darcy did the same, her fingers threading together on the table, something she did often with her clients as she sussed out the basis of the case before deciding if she wanted to represent them. Falling back on her training helped steele her nerves and she decided diving straight in was the best course of action. “I don’t know what Stark has told you about me, but I want you to know that he didn’t have to twist my arm to get me involved. I’ve been speaking out about the Accords since they dropped.”

“I know,” Steve said, watching her brows lift slightly, “I’ve seen some of your interviews.”

“Ah,” Darcy nodded, “calling Ross out by name wasn’t one of my better moments.”

Steve smiled, looking down at his hands before his eyes flicked back up to her. “I thought it was pretty impressive. Other people might have shied away from taking a five-star general to the mat.”

“I don’t know how to throw a proper punch, but I have no problem identifying bullshit as it’s being spewed, and that man is a certifiable douchebag.” Darcy’s bosses hadn’t been enthused with the way she’d handled that particular interview, but she hadn’t really cared; she’d watched Ross sit on his throne of self-righteousness with no one challenging him and couldn’t help sending the first shot across his bow.

Steve’s chuckle was soft as he shook his head at her words, thinking that the term ‘douchebag’ seemed perfect for the mustached army man and politician. “You didn’t seem to worry too much about taking him on.”

His words brought a smile to her face, sharp with a hint of satisfaction. “You’ll learn that about me very quickly, Steve. I’m not afraid to hold my own against heavyweights like Ross.”

“Tony said that’s one of the ways he figured you might be open to helping us out,” Steve offered, “that you’d have a good sense of what needs changing and how.” Tony’s true words had been said with a little more color. ‘She’s got balls. She brought a knife to gun fight and still managed to slice the shit out of Ross.’

“I’ve got an idea or two rolling around in here,” Darcy said, reaching up to tap her temple with her finger. “I’m not an idiot, I know the Accords won’t go away completely, but the thing needs to be gutted and stitched back together. If Stark’s willing to put in the work, then so am I.”

Steve could see the honesty in her eyes, could hear the vehemence in her voice, and he had no doubt that she meant what she said. “That’s a pretty big mission to take on.”

“I don’t get intimidated that easy. Besides, that’s only part of my mission. A side quest, if you will. A means to an end.”

A small expression of confusion crossed Steve’s face. “What would you consider your other mission?”

“Keeping you safe.” At his raised eyebrows, Darcy waved her hand through the air. “Look, I know I can’t keep you safe physically... okay, I am keeping you safe physically, by giving you a place to hide out, but I know I can’t fight someone to protect you. I can give you a place to go, though, somewhere without eyes looking for you. And while you’re there, safe, we’ll work to get you home.”

He’d managed to follow her train of thought, however much it zigged and zagged, but something about her words made him frown. “It’s not just me you’ll be housing.”

“Oh! No, I know,” Darcy said, leaning forward, “I know it’s you and Sergeant Barnes, both of you. I know that. When I say ‘you’ I mean ‘you’ plural. You both. You guys. You and Barnes. He deserves to go home just as much as you do.”

Steve watched her bend over backward to include Bucky in her plans, and his blue eyes searched hers for any hint of reservation. “It’s not going to be easy. He’s been through a lot and he’s still working on it.”

“Hey, we’re all working on something, right?”

Her words weren’t flippant, but sincere, and Steve couldn’t help thinking that she had no idea what she was getting herself into. “If they find out you’ve been harbouring us, you might face jail time, too.”

“Some of the most important challenges to laws resulted in people getting arrested. Civil Rights. The Suffrage movement. Marriage equality. History rarely sees change that doesn’t involve personal risk, but when the changes are needed, what else can you do? You fight because it’s right and just and you know in your heart it’s worth it.”

Her conviction buzzed with enthusiasm and Steve could feel it wavering in the air around her like heat on asphalt. There was a reason Tony had picked her, and it was all there in her face as Darcy’s eyes flashed with a passion for the cause. “We don’t know how long it will take.”

“I’ve got nothing else on my calendar for the foreseeable future,” Darcy said with a shrug, “so you’ll have me all to yourselves.” Her eyes widened when she realized how that’d sounded, but she couldn’t take it back now and he didn’t seem in a rush to embarrass her for it either, so she left it hang in the air. “I really do want to make this work and get you home, Captain Rogers. You and Sergeant Barnes.”

“If we’re going to be living together, you might as well get used to calling me Steve,” he said with a smile in her direction.

“Steve, there is a metric shit ton of things you’ll have to get used to when living with me, but that’ll be part of the fun, right? I know hiding from the law isn’t exactly a laugh riot, but I’m a firm believer in making the best of a shitty situation. If you’re game for it, then I’m game for it, too.”

Steve looked at her for a long moment, trying to gauge how much real thought she’d put into the offer before agreeing. There were so many ways this could go wrong, so many options where she came out of this wearing handcuffs and being stuck behind bars, but Darcy was right. To be on the right side of history, sometimes you had to get your hands dirty. Steve knew that better than most. “You’re taking a risk for us, and it’s not a little one. Thank you, Ms. Lewis.”

“Darcy,” she said with a smile, “if my towel’s gonna be hanging next to yours in that tiny ass bathroom we’ll be sharing, I think you can call me Darcy.”

Laughing, Steve nodded his head at her. “Darcy, then.”

When it seemed like some kind of decision had been reached, Darcy tapped her knuckles on the table. “Alright. Then let’s get this incredibly dangerous show on the road!”

The green trees below the jet seemed to spread out in all directions, massive and lush enough that Steve couldn’t see the ground. As far as hideouts went, the Ardennes forest in the French countryside was a good choice. The verdant expanse of trees, rolling hills, and rough terrain meant that it’d taken effort to suss out their location.

“I know this place,” Bucky said as his eyes took in the sea of green from the window. He turned to look at Steve, watching the blond glance over at him. “We were here before. Couldn’t get the convoy through because the rocks and roots. We had to hoof it.”

“You’re right,” Steve said, casting another look to the trees. “Dum-Dum lost his lighter. Morita and Tripp said they’d find him a new one.” His lips turned upward. The war was such a blur to him that it was hard to remember every fight they’d scraped their way out of.

“Did they ever find one?”

Steve’s heart sank, swallowing hard as he directed his eyes to the other side of the glass. “I’m not sure,” he said, keeping his voice light despite the ache in his chest. There hadn’t been enough time for them to find one, because less than a week later, they’d made their way onto that train. The image of Bucky falling flashed through his mind and, like it always did, Steve felt the agony of losing his best friend and lover all over again.

When Steve went quiet, Bucky followed suit. His mind supplied him with mission after mission, both when he was himself as well as after Hydra had torn him apart and put him back together. Time had ceased to matter to the Soldier, passing the years in cryostasis until his particular skill set was necessary again. He could practically feel the cold flow over his skin, and he reached out to feel the cold chrome of his prosthetic, a disconnect in his brain when his fingers brushed over the darker vibranium of the arm Shuri had designed. He’d stared at himself in the mirror for hours after being woken from cryo that first night, not recognizing the man looking back. He was different on the outside, but he still felt the same inside. The same pain, the same guilt, the same darkness.

“There is a clearing in the woods,” Okoye said as she slowed the craft, “though there will be a bit of a walk. I can get closer -”

“No, that’s okay, Okoye, we can walk,” Steve said, watching the Dora Milaje general nod before turning back to her controls. The time he’d spent in Wakanda had been pleasant, and getting to know the powerful women that surrounded King T’Challa had been an honor.

As the plane landed, Steve glanced over his shoulder at Bucky, watching the other man’s jaw tighten. He knew they’d felt safer in Wakanda, a stark separation from the chaos that raged outside the nation’s borders, but were now thrown back into a world that knew who they were and wanted to punish them for doing what they thought was right.

Memories of his apartment in Bucharest flashed through Bucky’s mind. It hadn’t been fancy, more threadbare than anything, but it’d been exactly what he’d needed. After the revelation of what Hydra had taken from him, the destroyed pieces of half a life that still haunted his dreams, Bucky’d needed something of his own. After the bombing and accusation that he’d been behind it, he’d been back on the run. Truthfully, other than the time he’d spent in cryo in Wakanda, he’d never stopped running since he’d been shipped to the 107th.

Worry and unrest prickled at his skin. It’d been so long since he’d stayed in one place for more than a few weeks that he worried he’d go crazy cooped up in a tiny cabin in the forests of France. He didn’t voice his concern, though, following Steve’s lead, trusting him implicitly. As the engines hushed quiet, he unstrapped and stood, grabbing the backpack he’d stuffed under his seat. He didn’t have much, but they’d never had much growing up, making due with hand-me-downs and anything they could scrape up.

When Steve took a step toward him, his shadow cutting the light that streamed in from the window, Bucky was pulled from the memory of his and Steve’s mothers darning socks at the tiny kitchen table of their tenement, drinking tea and laughing about the antics he and the tiny blond were recounting.

“You good?” Steve had seen the ghost of something behind Bucky’s eyes, an unfocusing that he’d come to recognize. He didn’t know what it was like to have an entire second life of memories to sift through, but when Bucky fell into thoughts of his past, an expression on uncertainty would cross his face, trying to decide what was real and what was mangled by Hydra’s experimentation.

Bucky didn’t speak, simply nodding at Steve before turning toward the opening bay doors. Steve watched him exit before turning toward Okoye. “Thank you for getting us here.”

“Of course,” Okoye said with a nod, “you have been very good to our King, Captain Rogers. If there is anything else Wakanda can do for you, you need only ask.”

Hitching his own bag higher on his shoulder, Steve gave her a smile before starting after Bucky. They stood in the small clearing, both of them watching as the Wakandan jet lifted, reflectors making it invisible before the faint sounds of the engine faded away. When the only thing they could hear was the rustling of trees and the birds calling to each other, Steve looked over at Bucky.

“We’re only a mile or so away,” Steve said as he pulled a compass from his back pocket, waiting for the needle to still before nodding toward the east. “She’ll be expecting us.”

“What do we know about her?” He’d asked the question before, but Bucky wanted to hear it again. Now that their boots were on the ground, the reality of the situation was settling on his shoulders. He’d rarely met anyone without some kind of ulterior motive, and since he and Steve were essentially putting their safety in this woman’s hands, he needed to know who they’d given their trust to.

“She knows Thor,” Steve said, realizing that that didn’t really tell Bucky much. His friend had never met the Asgardian, after all, so the demigod’s connection did little to ease his mind. “She’s worked with some of the Avengers before. She got her law degree so she could help people like us.”

Bucky followed Steve’s steps, glancing around with sharp eyes when a crow cawed in the distance. “People like us?”

“Yeah. You know, just kids from Brooklyn who don’t know how to stay out of a fight,” Steve joked, looking over at Bucky to see the twitch of his lips. It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough. As they pushed their way through the trees, Steve tried to keep the conversation light, trying to make Bucky comfortable with the situation. “She specializes with people who have powers.”

“Stark doesn’t have powers.”

Steve laughed softly, wanting desperately to see how Tony would have reacted to that comment. “You’re not wrong.”

“Neither does Barton.”

“Also true.”

“So what you really meant is us ‘science experiments’.” The look on Steve’s face when the blond glanced over at him was enough to make the joke worth it, despite the painful knowledge that it was true.

“Us. People with armor. Gods. Aliens. Mutants. Giant green rage monsters. I don’t think it matters as long as they’re the good guys.”

Bucky wanted to say that he couldn’t really be counted as one of the good guys, but he kept the comment to himself, not wanting to start that conversation with Steve. Not again. Something caught his eye and he bent down to grab the spherical black rock he’d seen, rolling it between his fingers to rid it of any dirt. He slipped it into his pocket before taking two large steps and catching up with Steve. “You trust her?”

Steve wanted to say yes, he wanted to ease Bucky’s fears, but the truth of the matter was that he wasn’t sure. His meeting with her had gone well, and he’d seen the conviction behind her eyes, but he really didn’t know much about her beside the fact that she was a lawyer, had helped Thor several times, and that Tony thought she’d make a good ally. “I trust Tony,” Steve said finally, looking over at Bucky to gauge his reaction.

Gray eyes pointing straight, Bucky noted the hesitation in Steve’s response. He didn’t know this woman, and he didn’t have it in him to trust anyone else. Bucky was following the man at his side, as he’d done his entire life. It was the only constant he was sure of any longer, and as he felt Steve’s gaze on him, no doubt looking for acceptance of their situation for the hundredth time, Bucky nodded. “Okay.”

It wasn’t exactly a convincing agreement, but it was probably the best Steve would get out of Bucky. They traveled the rest of the way in silence, each of them taking in the close growing trees that would serve as camouflage for the place they’d call home for the indefinite future. They both slowed when it seemed they'd passed through some sort of barrier, looking up to see a small clearing ahead, a cabin sitting in the middle of the grass.

The building was unassuming, small, and if they hadn’t known it was there, they'd have never found it. The wood siding blended in with the trees, giving it a feeling of seclusion. As they neared, they could make out a small porch on the back wall, and a swing holding a dark haired woman in jeans and a faded t-shirt.

Darcy’d been waiting for hours. Stark had only been able to tell her that they’d arrive on Wednesday, no specific time, which meant she’d been up since dawn, nerves and anxiety flipping in her stomach. She’d met her uncle the night before in town, letting him show her around before starting down the winding path through the trees that led to the remote cabin. He was happy to help her out, buying the cover story that she’d just been through a rough breakup and needed time to find herself. Spending the summer in the French countryside was just what she needed and it’d taken him very little convincing before tossing her the keys.

She’d chosen the break-up story because it tended to make people comfortable, meaning they asked less questions, and less questions was exactly what they’d needed. After assuring him that she’d been fine - I’ve got my taser and a baseball bat, Uncle Les, not to mention a new hatred for sneaky, cheating assholes - she’d been left to spend her first night in the woods.

Staying the night all by herself in the middle of a dense forest would have been terrifying if she hadn’t already known Stark had done his thing. She assumed he’d given them all the bells and whistles, and if his desire to keep Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes safe was true, it’s possible she’d slept in one of the safest places on Earth.

She’d spent the day unpacking and getting to know the place, deciding to throw her stuff in the smaller bedroom. If the men were being forced to share the same room, let alone the same bed, she figured she could deal with the smaller closet and sharing a wall with the bathroom. A compromise, she’d mused, and most likely the first of many.

Tossing aside the book she’d been reading, Darcy climbed to her feet as she recognized the two men emerging from the trees. The clearing at the back and side of the house wasn’t large, but it gave enough of a bubble that the trees didn’t feel like they were closing in on all sides. She watched the pair take in the building, eyes sharp as they noted everything. “I wasn’t sure when you’d get here,” she said by way of greeting, giving them a smile. “You found it okay?”

“It’s was a bit of a hike, but not bad,” Steve said as his feet hit grass, climbing the bit of a hill and feeling Bucky as his side.

“That’s the point, right? Middle of nowhere was requested, middle of nowhere was provided.” The friendly look on Rogers’ face was not shared by the darker man to his right, and the smile on Darcy’s face faltered slightly. She’d seen the news footage of Barnes running from the police in Bucharest, but seeing the Winter Soldier in front of her was something else. When his gray eyes landed on her, Darcy gave him a polite smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Sergeant Barnes, I’m Darcy.”

Bucky blinked at the woman, watching the look on her face become more uncertain before he nodded. “Bucky,” he said, watching the hesitation fill her eyes.

“Sure. Bucky. Welcome.” Darcy put her hands on her hips, taking in a deep breath and pushing at the doubt that had started to creep into her mind. She nodded to herself several times as she gathered the nerve and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Did you guys want a tour, then you can unpack?”

“That’d be great,” Steve answered, glancing over at Bucky. His best friend’s attention moved from the cabin to the trees that surrounded it, his gaze pointed, looking for any holes in the defenses. “After that, I think Bucky and I should walk around the perimeter, make sure we don’t see any gaps.”

“Sure, yeah, of course. Stark told me he took care of it, but it’s never a bad idea to double-check. I was planning on something simple for dinner, just grilled cheese and tomato soup. Does that, I mean, do you like soup?” For fucks sake, Lewis. ‘Do you like soup?’ Really? “If not, I can make something else.”

“No, no, soups good, right Buck?”

Bucky looked over at Steve, then followed his line of sight back to Darcy. “Soup’s fine,” he said, watching the small grin on her face grow slightly at his words. “I could eat.”

Darcy clapped her hands together in a nervous gesture. “Good! Okay. So, tour. This is obviously the back porch. I can’t be sure, but I think there’s a family of chipmunks living underneath. I don’t think they’ll cause us problems but you can never be sure. This door leads into the living room…”

Steve climbed the stairs, pausing when he didn’t feel Bucky at his back. He turned to see the other man staring up at the cabin, an uneasiness in his gaze. “Hey, you okay?”

Eyes swinging toward Steve, Bucky tried to ignore the feeling in his gut, the whisper in his ear that this was a bad idea. He didn’t know this woman, didn’t know Stark, and the possibility of failure was too large to ignore. He didn’t feel safe, didn’t feel comfortable, and he wasn’t sure which part was speeding his heart, but he could feel it whooshing in his ears. “Steve…”

Steve’s feet moved automatically, closing the distance between them until he could reach up and lay a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “I know this is hard for you,” he said, seeing the truth of it reflected in Bucky’s eyes, “but this is our best shot at getting to go home.”

“I’m not sure I remember home,” Bucky said with a frown, skin pricking at the vulnerability his words exposed.

“It smelled,” Steve said with a sigh. At Bucky’s look of confusion, he tried to explain what he’d meant. “In the summer, when the buildings just radiated the heat and there was no escape from it except sleeping on porches and roofs, the trash in the alleys just rotted. It hung in the air like a fog. You remember that?”

One corner of Bucky’s mouth lifted upward at Steve’s words. “Snow and ice would shut everything down, and we’d be praying for that funk to come back as long as it brought the heat, too.”

“See? You do remember home,” Steve said with a smile, fingers tightening on Bucky’s shoulder.

“Everyone we know from there is dead,” Bucky said with a shake of his head, feeling a swell of guilt when his words seemed to erase some of the warmth in Steve’s eyes.

“When we get there, we see how it feels, and if it doesn’t feel like home anymore, then we find someplace that does.”

Bucky searched Steve’s expression, the blond’s words tightening his chest. He’d said ’we find someplace’ as if it them staying together was already part of the plan. Steve had torn across the globe to find him, to fight at his side. Steve’d gone toe-to-toe with someone he considered family to keep the shell of his best friend safe. He’d traveled to foreign countries and promised he’d be there when Bucky woke up. And even now, when he wasn’t sure of their next step, Steve still refused to let him go it alone.

It meant more than Bucky could put into words.

“I trust you, Steve,” Bucky said, watching Steve’s blue gaze fill with the words, “if you say we’re good here, then we’re good here.”

“If this goes pear-shaped, then we’ll figure something else out. Together.”

Bucky opened his mouth to say something when he caught movement over Steve’s shoulder. He watched Darcy stand in the doorway, looking at the pair of them with the same uncertainty he felt in himself. It took that look to realize she was in the middle of a situation she hadn’t planned on, too.

He’d been so worried about the doubt he felt that he’d never really considered what this was like for her. She would be willingly living with the poster-child of American values, but also an assassin that had haunted the political landscape for decades. It wasn’t exactly a traditional babysitting assignment. If anything went wrong, she was much less likely to come out the other side without some damage.

“Is everything alright?” Darcy called from the porch, watching as Steve turned to face her, the pleasant smile on his face only slightly quieting the nervous butterflies in her stomach.

“Sorry, yeah, just discussing some ideas for perimeter checks,” Steve lied easily, his hand dropping from Bucky’s shoulder as he moved toward the stairs again. This time, he felt Bucky’s warmth at his back, some of the tension bleeding from his shoulders as he let Darcy lead them inside.

Not sure what had made them hesitate, but trying her best to be welcoming, Darcy’s arm swept through the air as she gestured. “So this is the living room, dining room, and kitchen, which I’m sure you’ve worked out for yourselves. Not a lot of separation between the three, but that’s probably better for you guys, yeah? More open, less room to hide? Not that anyone would be... hiding here... except for you... since you’re both here, you know. Hiding.”

She turned her face away from them, closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath to steady herself. It was one thing to talk in hypotheticals, but an entirely different thing to actually live with two men she didn’t know, and not just any two men, but Captain America and the Winter Soldier. She wasn’t blind, and looking at the pair of them was like looking at two giant slab of muscles wrapped in skin, strong enough that they could snap her neck like a twig if they wanted.

When she turned back to them, the smile had returned to her face and she pushed through, though her eyes lingered on the flash of Bucky’s metal hand at his side before she continued. “There’s a small porch in the front but it’s not much. The hallway here leads to the bathroom and bedrooms...”

Darcy reached out and flipped on the lights in the bathroom. It wasn’t the most glamorous room, but the clawfoot tub lent it a bit of charm, and the fact that they had running water all the way in the woods and away from town was enough of a amenity that she wasn’t going to quibble about the size. She turned to see both men glance past her and into the room. “It’s not a Hilton, but it’ll do.”

“More than what we grew up with,” Steve said with a nod, taking a step back so she could leave the bathroom and continue the tour, though he could tell by the size of the hallway that there wasn’t much more to see.

“Oh, yeah. Sure. My room is here on the right, and across from it is a closet with a washer and dryer, and the electric room. It’s been upgraded because of everything Stark did, but there’s not much room in there for anything else. That leaves your room, which is right through there.”

Darcy followed the men as they pushed into the room and took a look around. “I’m sorry it’s not bigger. And that there’s only one bed. I’m sure if we needed to we could drag one of the couches in here, or you can take the beds and I can take the couch. Whatever you want.”

“No, this is fine, Darcy, really.” Steve shrugged his bag off his shoulder, setting it down on the quilt-covered bed. “We’re pretty easy to please.”

“Lived in a lot of bad places,” Bucky said, unhooking the chest strap on his backpack and letting it slip to the floor. “This is good.”

Chewing on her lip, not sure if they were telling the truth or humoring her, Darcy nodded. “Just let me know if it doesn’t work. We’ll figure something out.” A beat of silence settled over the three, and though she tried to ignore it, there was a hint of apprehension in the air. Considering the uncertainty of their future and the lack of comfort that came with not knowing each other, it wasn’t that big of a surprise. In any case, Darcy felt moved to action, deciding to ignore the small voice inside her head asking what she’d gotten herself into. “Right, well, I’m going to go start dinner. You guys can get settled, freshen up, take a shower, or a bath, if that’s, you know, your thing. I’ll just be… out there.”

Bucky watched the woman look at him and Steve one more time before she made a hasty retreat, the sounds of cupboards being opened and closed coming from the kitchen. He looked over at Steve, watching the other man take a seat on the bed, a sigh lifting and dropping his shoulders. “What?” Bucky asked, Steve’s eyes swinging in his direction.

“Nothing,” Steve said with a shake of his head, “it’s nothing.”

“That’s not nothing, punk,” Bucky frowned.

“It’s just... “ Steve trailed off, fingertips sliding over the threadbare blanket. He looked at Bucky, one corner of his mouth turning up. “I’ve never lived in a real house before. Stayed as a guest at one, sure, but lived?” The roll of Bucky’s eyes was familiar, and seeing it again made the grin on Steve’s face grow larger. “What?”

“Nothing,” Bucky said, a spark of warmth lighting in his chest, a smile of his own curling his lips.

Chapter Text

Three people living together was… messy. It wasn’t like they were giant slobs or anything, but the cabin was small, and living in the middle of the woods came with its own share of difficulties. Dusting was an especially frustrating chore, as it didn’t matter if they’d dusted the day before, because there was always more. Besides that, and the dishes in the sink, and the normal clutter that occured when people lived together in a small area, Darcy’d decided it best that they address the issue right away.

Perhaps it was micromanaging the situation, but Darcy had spent the morning in her room, grateful that she’d found a large batch of art supplies in one of the cupboards. Her uncle - who wasn’t really an uncle but a friend of deceased parents - was a painter, some of his work gracing the walls in the cabin, and it seemed he’d made sure if inspiration hit that he’d be able to funnel it onto another canvas.

When she emerged from her room, Darcy found Bucky and Steve standing in the kitchen, skin glistening with sweat. If she stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of them, she was almost certain no one could blame her. They were unarguably attractive, and her steps slowed as her lips parted, taking in their flushed skin and muscled arms. “Guh.” When they glanced up at her incomprehensible sound, her eyes widened. “I mean, hi. Went for a run?”

“Getting the lay of the land,” Steve said, lifting the hem of his shirt and using it to swipe the sweat from his forehead.

Darcy’d caught a glimpse of the toned stomach that hid beneath the fabric of Steve’s t-shirt and had to tear her eyes away. Frustratingly, that meant her gaze landed on Bucky, and there was no reprieve as her eyes traced the flushed skin and bright gray eyes. Hair had escaped from the tie at Bucky’s neck was plastered to his skin, throat working as he drained water from a bottle.

“Yeah,” she hummed, taking an experimental step forward, not sure she’d be able to push past the fog of pretty and gather her wits. Surprised when she didn’t fall on weakened knees, Darcy crossed to the island in the kitchen and set her poster down. “So I made something for us,” she said, watching as both men took a step toward her.

Steve peered down at the colorful canvas. “What is it?”

“A chore chart.” When Bucky and Steve shared a look, Darcy stood up a bit straighter. “Look, I know it’s not that big of a place, and I’m sure none of us are messy people, but three people living together are going to accumulate stuff. Dishes in the sink, towels on the ground, dust. If we follow this chart, the work’s spread out evenly between the three of us.”

Bucky lifted his right arm and wiped his forehead against his t-shirt. “Meals?”

Darcy nodded. “I figured it’d be good to assign a few meals each week to each of us. I’ll be in town working with Tony during the week, so you’ll be on your own for lunch, but having a few pre-planned dinners sounded like a good idea. Thoughts?”

Steve could feel Bucky look in his direction, a reserved expression on his face, waiting to see how he reacted before deciding how he felt about it. “We’re willing to pull our own weight,” Steve said with a nod, “and nothing here is unreasonable.”

His response had been a bit formal for her tastes, but seeing how they didn’t know each other that well, Darcy reasoned it was as good a reply as any. “Obviously you two won’t be able to go grocery shopping, so I’ll put a pad of paper on the fridge and I’ll see what I can rustle together in town. It’s not a huge store, so they might not have everything, but we’ll play it by ear.”

When the men simply nodded at her, Darcy took it as a sign of their agreement, moving toward the fridge so she could hang the chart. “Oh!” She turned around, both Bucky and Steve looking at her expectantly. “Laundry. I think we can all agree that the best course of action is that everyone does their own. I’m positive you’ve never had to follow the insane directions on how to wash a lace bra, and I doubt you’d like me to be all up in your undies.”

“I don’t wear underwear.”

The raspy reply from Bucky’s mouth lifted Darcy’s eyebrows, and she watched Steve turn to look at the other man as well. “Oh,” she said, trying desperately to keep her voice casual, even as her mind supplied her with more mental images than she’d ever need, “right. Going commando. Pretty on brand, considering you were part of the Howling Commandos.”

When both men turned to look at her, Darcy steeled her nerve, giving them a shrug. “Either way. Everyone does their own laundry. That work for you?” At their nods, she clapped her hands together, a nervous gesture she’d had for years. “Perfect. Well, I’m going to take a shower then head into town. If you guys want me to pick you up anything, I can. In case you forgot anything. Deodorant. Toothpaste. Whatever.”

Steve gave her a small grin before she made her way down the hall. He turned his face toward Bucky, watching his best friend finish his water before he started toward their room. “You lied to her,” Steve said, his words stopping Bucky in his tracks, “why?”

Bucky turned back toward Steve with a shrug of his shoulders. The lie about not wearing underwear had fallen from his mouth before he could think about it fully, something in him unable to resist the chance. “Saw the opportunity and took it.”

Steve’s gaze followed Bucky as he, too, disappeared down the hall. It’d been so small, just four little words, but it’d given Steve a peek at the man he knew was underneath all the trauma. Bucky had always been sarcastic, quick with a joke, and getting to see the ghost of the man he’d fallen in love with settled something in his chest.

Bucky was in there, with his charm and charisma and the billion other things that had always sped Steve’s heart, and if it took staying in the middle of the Ardennes forest with a stranger to bring him to the surface, it’d be worth it.

Darcy leaned heavily on the conference table, looking over at Tony with a frown. “What about EPs that are underage?”

Tony’s eyebrow crooked upward. “EPs?”

“Enhanced Persons, try to keep up.” Darcy could see the look Tony tossed her way, but chose to ignore it. “It’s not like there’s a magic wand that waves and you get powers when you turn 18. EP power onset could be pre-pubescent. You still expect them to give away their identity?”

“First, I am not the only person who’s expecting these Accords to hold water, so maybe tone down the animosity toward me as if I wrote the damned thing myself. Secondly, I happen to know an underaged EP and I agree with you that there needs to be a safety net for them.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

Silence descended over the room.

“This is the point where you start taking this down,” Tony said, pointing in the direction of her laptop.

Rolling her eyes, Darcy’s fingers typed out a bank of notes, needing to do research on cases in the past that had already set precedent. She already had an extensive reading list as it was, but since she didn’t have much to do when she got home, reading was just fine with her.

“Also,” Tony said from his chair, “we need something about what to do if the emergence of powers causes any unintended damage.”

Darcy looked up at him with a frown. “What do you mean?”

Tony’s hand gestured animatedly in the air. “It’s not like powers knock and make sure you’re aware of them before anything bad happens. Take that school upstate. When powers exhibit in children, they offer to help train them, to make sure they have a handle on their powers. But that first time? Not so subtle.”

Darcy nodded. It was a good idea, and one she wished she’d have thought up first. “So we put something in there about how it gets reviewed, and if it’s determined it was unintended, they’re okay?”

“Well, no, I bet them hurting people or destroying a city block doesn’t mean they’re okay, but they shouldn’t be punished for something they can’t control.”

Darcy’s fingers were a blur over the keyboard, trying to get out all the thoughts flurrying through her head. His suggestion had hit her brain and immediately, she was overwhelmed by the sheer number of situations they had to prepare for. “Okay. What about Vision?”

“What about Vision?”

She looked up at the suspicious tone in Tony’s voice. He was giving her a look she couldn’t quite put a finger on, but as she continued looking at him, it made sense. Darcy knew enough about what had happened before Sokovia that Tony Stark and Bruce Banner had created Vision, and as of yet, they hadn’t really touched on him. “So you and Banner created Vision, right?”

Tony’s eyes rolled before he let out a sigh. “It was a little more complicated than that, but yeah.”

“So technically,“ Darcy began, “that makes currently makes him nothing but a piece of technology. Is he required to sign? If he’s just considered technology and isn’t considered a person under these provisions, what rights does he have?” Darcy watched as Tony took a seat at the table, sighing.

“Shit.”

“Yeah.” She was almost certain Tony’d had these thoughts before, but putting them in to the Accords meant they had a way to protect their asses per the law. Her fingers tapped against the keys, not hard enough to type anything but soft enough that she could hear the click as her mind considered the problem. “He’s an autonomous being. So what if there’s a test -”

“There is a test already.”

“Fine, okay. So the test is there, Vision takes the test, proves he’s able to understand right and wrong, and by signing the Accords, in the eyes of the law at least, he’s a person?” Darcy waited as Tony blinked for ten seconds, seeing the genius (a fact he had no problem bringing up, over and over) work behind his whiskey gaze.

“He signs the Accords, becomes a real boy, and can’t be used as a weapon or just another piece of tech.”

“Exactly!” Darcy said, giving the billionaire a smile. “A round about way to grant personhood to someone who should already have it in the first place. It’s sneaky, sure, but -”

“That’s politics,” Tony finished for her, looking over to her with an impressed expression. His fingers tapped on the table a few times before he stood up. “Okay. Looks like you’ll have quite the pile of research to do over the weekend.”

Darcy sighed, remembering the first package that’d arrived for her in town. Their base of operations was the town’s only internet cafe. The woman who ran it, Sabine, had been more than gracious, stating they could have the back conference room every day from eight to four, and that she’d make sure no one interrupted them. This was good, as Darcy didn’t want to have to explain why she was talking to a holographic image of Tony Stark. Sabine was generous, and never made Darcy pay for her coffee, which meant the blonde french woman was Darcy’s new favorite person “Yeah. I’ll let you know if the library you sent isn’t enough.”

Tony stood up from his chair. “Just tell me on Monday and I’ll add to it.”

“Will do, OreMan.”

“Ore Man?”

Darcy looked up at Tony with an unrepentent smile on her face. “You know, Iron Ore? Since you’re Iron Man. I’m trying something new.”

His eyebrow stayed lifted, brown eyes tinted with disbelief. “Maybe you don’t.”

“Maybe I’ll see you on Monday,” Darcy said as she waved her hand over the black brick in the middle of the table. The hologram of Tony vanished and the whole device turned back into what looked like a battery brick for her laptop, which she shoved into a locked cabinet in the room. Due to Tony’s ‘no electronics’ rules, the laptop lived at the cafe, meaning most of Darcy’s notes at home were on legal pads. She stuffed the rest of her stuff in her bag, mentally preparing herself for a weekend full of boring and dry as fuck case studies.

Chapter Text

Sleep faded away from Steve bit by bit, the sunlight streaming in from the window brightening the room. He was normally up before dawn, pushing his body and running until his muscles ached, but since he and Bucky had arrived at the cabin two weeks ago, time seemed to pass slower. There were no looming battles, no pressing matters that need his attention. It was a different change of pace, and not one he was used to.

He sat up in bed, casting his eyes toward the door. It was slightly ajar, meaning that Bucky was already awake, and Steve’s ears strained to hear any movements or voices beyond the bedroom, but heard nothing. The quiet seemed like an entity on its own, surrounding the cabin and spreading out it all directions. When Tony had suggested they hide out in the woods, Steve hadn’t known what to expect, thinking the idea was a tad farfetched. He was Captain America. Bucky was the Winter Soldier. Was there really a place they could hide without being recognized?

Turns out the cabin was remote enough that the answer was a resounding ‘yes’. Other than the sounds of nature on all sides, it was difficult to imagine anyone finding them, not when they were cloaked so easily in the trees. He knew Darcy risked more than he and Bucky did, traveling into town during the week to work with Tony, but she was taking on the responsibility without complaining.

Steve climbed to his feet, toes curling into the plush rug beneath the bed. He cast a glance toward the blanket on the floor, where Bucky had tossed and turned all night long. His best friend had been quiet since they’d arrived, only adding to the conversation when he was asked a question directly, but he’d begun to see changes in Bucky, small changes, but changes nonetheless.

Before they’d left Wakanda, Steve had sat down with Shuri and the rest of her team, discussing ways to help Bucky once they were outside the African nation’s safety. The doctors had stressed that having a routine was the best thing they could do for Bucky, so Steve had turned his focus toward building a sustainable schedule.

Each day, after breakfast, he and Bucky would run through the woods. They ran north by design, away from the cabin and putting more ground between them and the closest town. The rolling hills and valleys were slowly becoming familiar, a regular path being worn into the green underbrush. At first, it’d been difficult for Bucky to keep up, still dealing with the weakness in his muscles after so much time in cryostasis. Slowly, however, Bucky had built up his stamina and endurance, until he had no trouble staying at Steve’s pace.

Secretly, Steve held his true speed back, wanting Bucky to feel accomplished as he grew stronger. Little by little he’d push it faster, increase the rate they flew through the trees, until he was certain Bucky was back to normal.

Or as normal as they could manage.

Over time, Steve had begun to see all the little ways Hydra’s damage had affected his best friend. The realization that Bucky was barely sleeping had been hard, the dark bags under the other man’s eyes making Steve worry. Bucky’d been reluctant to eat much at first, but as they added more and more physical activity, he’d started to eat more out of necessity than anything else. Their bodies were machines and food was the fuel. A means to an end. Not something Bucky enjoyed, but something he had to do.

Thinking back to the memories of their childhood was bittersweet, remembering the look of ecstasy on Bucky’s face when he’d taken a bite of saltwater taffy, a surprise treat George Barnes had gifted the two boys. The emotion and happiness on Bucky’s face was like a ghost now, and Steve prayed that, with time, he’d be able to see his best friend enjoying something as much as he’d enjoyed that taste. Pushing his way out of the room, Steve walked on bare feet down the hall, the wood warm under his toes.

Steve was surprised by the sight that greeted him in the living area. Bucky sat on one end of the couch, legs stretched out in front of him, heels resting on the coffee table. The National Geographic in his hands looked ancient, the pages curling and yellowing with age. Bucky didn’t appear to care, however, as he flipped to the next page, his gray eyes darting from left to right as he read.

Darcy was on the other end of the sofa, legs pulled under her body. She pushed her glasses further up her nose before grabbing her highlighter and scratching over the sentence she’d just read. There were several notepads spread around her, scribbles of handwritten notes on the pages, and looked to be in the throws of some heavy research.

It wasn’t just the picture the scene painted, but the comfort that he could see in both Bucky and Darcy. After the first week, the newness of the situation had started to fade and had been replaced with understanding, if not acceptance. There weren’t many activities to do at the cabin besides read, and that seemed to suit the two occupants of the couch just fine.

Bucky had grown up reading science fiction, and his love of stories had been fostered by his mother. Steve could still remember Winifred Barnes reading Frankenstein to them, he and Bucky side by side in bed as she used that larger than life personality to scare the devil out of them. The art of storytelling had stuck with Bucky, giving him an unending respect for the written word and how it could be used.

It appeared Darcy fostered the same love, more often than not being found with a book spread out in front of her, biting her lower lip as she concentrated. Since it seemed it was something she and Bucky’d found in common, the pair had become unlikely reading companions, neither of them needing to fill to silence with words, not when there was a whole world of words in front of them on the page.

Steve was surprised when Darcy glanced up at him before Bucky, almost certain that the soldier would have been the first to realize he and Darcy were being watched. When Darcy shifted, however, it drew Bucky’s gaze toward her, then up to the object that had grabbed her attention.

“How ya’ feeling, Morning Glory?” Darcy asked with a smile, shoving one of her notepads between the pages she’d been reading to mark her place. “You’re usually up before us.”

“Had a hard time getting to sleep,” Steve answered, reaching up to scratch at the back of his neck. Truthfully, he’d been up late, hearing Bucky whimper in his sleep, whatever dream or nightmare he’d been having making rest difficult. It wasn’t Bucky’s fault, of course, but as Bucky had shifted with unease, Steve had found his own sleep elusive. He must have drifted off eventually, but he could feel the tiredness in the tightness of his shoulders.

“Well, we had granola and fruit if you wanted some,” Darcy said pointing toward a bowl that had been left on the dining table, watching Steve’s blue eyes dart in that direction. It was a little lie, of course, because while she’d eaten her fair share, Bucky had barely touched anything. She’d resorted to trickery, saying she wasn’t sure if the berries were ripe yet. He’d ‘helped’ her try a few, and she’d taken the win.

Darcy watched Steve cross to the bowl and pick out a few strawberries, eyes widening when a thought popped into her head. “I can’t believe I didn’t ask! Do you guys have any allergies? Like, I’m sure you would have stopped before eating something that would kill you, but like, soap? Laundry detergent?”

“Not sure it’d matter now,” Bucky said, not glancing up from his magazine.

“Why?”

“The serum they used on us kind of got rid of all of those things,” Steve explained, grabbing the bowl and carrying it toward the couch. He sat in the chair next to Bucky, holding the bowl out toward the other man. Bucky hesitated for a second before he took a handful of the mixture and tipped his head back.

Grinning at how easily Steve had worked that situation, Darcy nodded. “So the super blue liquid really was super? Good to know.”

Bucky went still before looking over at her, eyes filled with suspicion. “How’d you know it was blue?”

Darcy’s eyes widened. “Wait, really? It was really blue? That was just a guess! I figured since it was the good stuff it’d be blue. Like Windex.”

“Little more potent than windex,” Steve said, a smile lifting his lips when Darcy’s hazel eyes swung in his direction.

“I mean, I’ve read stuff about it. You’ve got a whole Smithsonian exhibit, for fuck’s sake, but it all seemed like it was drummed up for effect.”

Steve chuckled, shaking his head as he held the bowl out for Bucky again. “No, that part of the story they got right. I was not a healthy child.” When Bucky snorted, Steve’s eyebrow raised. “That funny?”

“‘Not a healthy child’? Punk, that’s the understatement of the century.”

“I know about the asthma and anemia. What else was there?” Darcy watched the two men glance at each other, checking with the other about what they could reveal, but that they were talking at all was a testament to how far they’d come in the past two weeks.

“Mostly those, and the heart issues. Murmur, palpitations, what’s now called SVT. I had high blood pressure, also low pressure, depending on the day. A bout of scarlet fever, rheumatic fever, regular fevers. Chronic colds and sinusitis. Tinnitus. Fatigue. Exposure to TB and TB patients.”

Darcy’s mouth was hanging open by the time he’d finished rattling off the list. “Anything else?”

“Color blind.” Darcy glanced over at Bucky, watching as he reached out to grab another handful from the bowl. His voice was still a little thick with disuse, but the fact that he was joining in at all was an improvement.

Steve nodded, letting out a huff of air when he realized he’d forgotten something. “Yeah, that’s right. Add color blind to the list.”

Darcy shifted on the couch, wrapping her arms around her knees as she turned her full attention to their conversation and the two men. “I... can’t even imagine.”

“He had a good nurse,” Bucky said chewing around the mouthful of oats.

he couldn’t help the small laugh at his words. “You? You were a good nurse?”

“My Ma,” Steve said, watching Darcy’s expression slip as she turned to look at him. “Ma was a nurse. When she wasn’t at the hospital taking care of her patients, she was at home taking care of me.” He placed the bowl on the table at Bucky’s side, within reach if he wanted it, before continuing. “She never complained, no matter how tired she was. Ma always made sure I had what I needed. She didn’t really say it, but I could tell me being sick took its toll on her. She got so weak and run down at the end.”

Bucky seemed to go still and Darcy watched him lower the magazine so he could took at Steve, the blond avoiding direct eye contact with either of them.

“Wasn’t your fault,” Bucky said with a shake of his head, as if this was an argument they’d been having for years and had never agreed on.

“I know,” Steve said, though there was no real conviction in his voice.

When the quiet had seemed to go on a little too long, just before it started to become uncomfortable, Darcy shifted in her seat, feet lowering ot the floor. “She sounds like she was an amazing mother.” The smile Steve pointed in her direction was sweet, and Darcy answered his grin with one of her own. “So what you’re saying is that I’ll be fine buying the cheap laundry detergent. Got it.”

“Get the good stuff,” Bucky said a shrug of his shoulders when Darcy glanced over at him, “Stark’s paying for it, right?”

The sound that tore from Darcy’s chest made both men look in her direction, and they watched as her head tipped back, her entire body a part of the laughter that shook her shoulders. “Oh my god, you’re right! He is paying for it! I quibbled about buying the more expensive bottle of ketchup and it was all for nothing! Oh, man. Look out Mr. Snuggles! Our clothes are going to smell like the fresh summer rain and Hawaiian waterfalls!”

Bucky turned to Steve, the swing from bittersweet memories to household products lifting his eyebrows with its speed. “Who the hell is Mr. Snuggles?”

“Fuck!” Darcy spun in her seat, glancing up at the clock on the wall near the front door. She jumped to her feet, hands scrambling to grab her things off the table. “I lost track of time. Shit! Um, you guys are good, yeah? Did you need anything from town?” She barely waited for them to answer before she flew back toward her bedroom.

Both men listened to a litany of curses sound from her room, accompanied by the opening and closing of drawers. In record time, Darcy re-emerged, a soft yellow blouse open over a tanktop and a pair of gray slacks being buttoned by nimble fingers. “Okay, I’ll be back around five. It’s my turn for dinner so I’ll grab something on my way home. You don't need anything, right? Right. Good. Uh, yeah. Bye.”

As she hopped toward the front door, only one of her shoes on and the other one giving her problems, both men watched as her manic form was stolen from sight by the door. Steve frowned, glancing over at Bucky. “Did she have an entire carafe of coffee this morning?”

Bucky mirrored Steve, a frown on his face as he glanced suspiciously toward the fruit and granola still in the bowl to his left.

“You’re late.”

“I know, I know, shut up, I’m here now.”

Darcy threw her stuff on the table, dropping into her seat with a sigh. She was pretty sure she’d never biked as quickly as she had, the trees streaming by in hues of green as she flew through the forest. That she’d gotten so distracted by her reading wasn’t a surprise, as she had a habit for ignoring everything else when her nose was in a book, but the fact that she’d gotten so distracted when there was a freaking assassin on the other end of the couch was what gave her pause.

She’d known, in theory, that she’d be living with people who could kill her fifteen different ways using only their pinkies, but living it was a whole different matter. It’d taken her some time to adjust, to feel comfortable with the two men, but she’d assumed she’d have a much easier time with Steve Rogers, Captain America and humble like apple pie. It was the fact that she’d fallen into a kind of quiet friendship with Bucky Barnes, Winter Soldier and expert killer, that left her questioning.

“Did we want to pick up where we left off?”

“Sure,” Darcy said, pulling her notepad and books out of her bag. She hesitated before glancing up at the image of Tony, squinting with uncertainty. “What were we talking about again?”

The sigh that passed Tony’s lips was labored and filled with faux pain. “What happens in the case of an off-world threat.”

“Right! Yes! That. I remember now.” Darcy pulled the cap from her pen, forcing her mind to focus on the task at hand and not the conversation she’d just had with Steve and Bucky. “We’ve got to have something that allows you to react to certain threats without prior approval. Like what you did in Sokovia.” She watched Tony flinch at the mention of the country, no doubt reliving the moment in his mind, and she would have felt guilty if that hadn’t been then entire impetus for this whole situation.

“It won’t be just homegrown terrors. There’s a whole galaxy of threats out there, things that won’t care about pre-emptive approval.”

Darcy’s pen tapped out a rhythm as she thought. “So we put in something that takes it into account. If they want to look at the response after the fact, sure, of course, but if the threat is large enough, prior approval can’t be required.”

Tony sat across from her, crossing his legs and leaning back in his chair, fingers steepled as he reasoned. “Even then, there’ll be countries that deny our help.”

“Yeah, well, they just happen to be on the same planet as everyone else, and we’re not going to let it all burn to the ground just because they have reservations about who saves the day.”

“It’s cute that you think they’ll care.” Tony ignored the hand gesture she made in his direction. “Some of them might be why the threat’s here in the first place.”

“You know, people said that about you, right?” When Tony raised an eyebrow at her, Darcy sat back in her chair. “Thor said that one of the reasons space told us to square up was because we started messing with things we shouldn’t have.”

“First, space did not come to fight us, aliens that live in space did. Second, the generation before ours split the atom and invented nuclear bombs. It was only a matter of time before we caught the eye of our universal neighbors.”

Shrugging her shoulders, begrudgingly admitting he had a point, Darcy leaned forward again. “So you want a clause that says ‘if we suspect a nation’s government of inciting or outright approving a hostile alien force to crash the party, their approval of planet-saving help is not required’?”

“Maybe clean the sentence up a bit more, but yeah. Your roommate was the response to clinically insane Nazis who messed with powers they couldn’t handle and needed to be put in check. Not sure we should have waited for Hitler’s okay to take them out.”

“Agreed.” Darcy jotted her notes down in shorthand, pen pausing on the paper. “What about non violent threats?” When she glanced up at Tony, he was looking at her expectantly. “I know we’ve got aliens, and super-humans, and people who can destroy entire buildings, but what about tornadoes? Earthquakes? Volcanic eruptions? In those situations you shouldn’t need approval to help.”

Tony tapped his chin, twisting in his seat from side to side as his brown eyes flashed with consideration. “At that point we wouldn’t be protection, we’d be -”

“- humanitarian aid relief. No reason for prior approval needed.”

“Unless we found out the volcano was erupting due to a hostile threat -.”

“- in which case you’d neutralize the threat and then be subject to review.” Darcy’s nose crinkled as she grimaced. “What kind of asshole would set a freaking volcano to explode?”

“What kind of asshole would attack New York City with armored Shamus of death? Doesn’t matter who it is, only matters that we stop them before more people die.”

Darcy raised an eyebrow at him. “Shamus of death?”

Tony shrugged. “It was a thing."

Chapter Text

Darcy’s right eye twitched. She’d been reading the same sentence in her case study for the past ten minutes, trying over and over to absorb the words and their meanings, but the shifting in her peripheral vision was making that damn near impossible. She’d tried ignoring it, not wanting to burst the bubble of quiet that had descended over the cabin and the three of them, but she’d held her tongue tight enough that she’d damn near bit through the thing. Finally, when she couldn’t take it anymore, she slammed the cover on her book closed and jumped to her feet. “That’s it!”

The outburst earned her a look and a raised eyebrow from the person on the couch, who happened to be the ultimate source of her frustration. Bucky’s dark hair was unkempt, and not in the ‘this looks like it’s unkempt but I actually spent an hour getting it to look like this’ way but the ‘I was too lazy to run a comb through it and just used my fingers’ kind of way.

Stalking across the living room, Darcy threw her book on the table and then gestured toward him with her hand. “Turn around, hot wheels, I can’t take it anymore.”

Bucky’s movements were careful and calculated as he closed the magazine he’d been reading and set it on the cushion next to him. He blinked up at her, seeing the slight flush of annoyance in her cheeks. “What?”

“Turn. Around.” Hazel eyes flashing, Darcy twirled her finger in a circle in the air before him. “You’ve been wincing and repositioning yourself every 5 minutes. You must have slept on your neck wrong or something. Turn around.” Guarded gray eyes looked up at her, but he made no attempt to move. “Barnes, I swear on my pretty floral bonnet, I will end you. Turn. Around.”

Bucky took five more seconds to look at her before his gaze crossed the space toward Steve. The blond had planted himself in the window seat, the sunlight of the morning casting rays of shadow and light in the woods beyond the pane. Steve’s eyes had been looking at the two since Darcy’s raised voice had pulled his attention, eyebrows lifting toward his hairline at the vehemence in her tone. When Bucky looked over at him, searching his face for some kind of explanation as to what she wanted, he gave the other man a small shrug.

At Steve’s shrug, Bucky turned back to look to Darcy, the expression on his face uncertain. After she glared down at him for a few more seconds, Bucky finally relented. He turned in his seat, giving her his back. If he hadn’t already memorized the entire layout of the cabin, it would have been a different story, but he had memorized every inch of the space. As Darcy climbed on the sofa behind him, Bucky caught her reflection in the mirror directly in front of him on the wall. If she tried to do anything he didn’t want, he’d see it coming.

Darcy settled behind Bucky on the couch. Folding her legs under herself, she rubbed her hands together to warm them. She didn’t know that much about his arm - other than that it scared her a little - but she knew that since they’d started living together, and she’d started watching him closely, that he was in pain. Bucky ached. His neck, his shoulder, his back… all of them ached. He was constantly shifting in discomfort, and though she’d been able to ignore the other million times she’d seen him flinch, one million and one was apparently one too many.

She placed her hands on his shoulders, carefully not touching the metal of his prosthetic that peeked out of his t-shirt. When Darcy laid her hands on his shoulders, he jumped at the touch, skin going taut under her fingers. “Hey. You’re fine,” she said, her voice soft, “I’m not going to hurt you. At least I don’t think I am. But I don’t want to hurt you. If this hurts, tell me and I’ll stop.”

“You need a word.”

Darcy looked over at Steve, an eyebrow lifting at his suggestion. “Huh?”

“He needs to know something he can say if it’s too much. Something simple. Easy to remember.” Steve watched recognition light her eyes, recalling a conversation they’d had during the first week they’d been together. Bucky and Darcy had been in the small kitchen and a simple brush of her arm against his was enough to shift Bucky from near comfort to instant alarm. He’d practically jumped across the island to put as much space between himself and Darcy as possible. Steve’d explained to Darcy that the doctors in Wakanda had told him physical contact would be something Bucky would have to work up to and that it might take a bit.

Darcy glanced back toward Bucky, eyebrows knitting together in thought as he watched his hair blow softly with her breath. “So we need a safe word?”

Steve nodded, figuring it was as good an explanation as any. “Something like that.”

Mind turning, ignoring the fact that Captain America knew what a safe word was, Darcy racked her brain for something that would never come up in conversation under normal circumstances. “How about ‘platypus’?”

Bucky looked at her face in the mirror, one eyebrow raising. “Platypus?”

Darcy sighed. “Look, I can’t think of any case, in any situation, where the word ‘platypus’ will come up in this cabin. I know other people go with banana or pineapple, but I think fruit would come up in conversation a lot sooner than a duck-billed mammal, okay? If you have a different suggestion, I’m all ears.”

Steve couldn’t help the smile that turned his lips, seeing the confused expression on Bucky’s face. “Buck, that okay?”

Not able to come up with anything better, but also wondering why the word ‘platypus’ had been the first idea that popped into Darcy’s head, Bucky gave her a slight shrug of his shoulder, lips narrowing in a frown at the pain the movement caused. “Okay.”

“Good,” Darcy said with a nod, glad it was decided. “Platypus. If you say it, I go hands-off and stop. That work for you, Heavy Metal?” At his nod, she began warming up her hands again. “Good. I’m gonna put my hands back on you now.” When the soldier didn’t immediately respond, Darcy took that as his answer and placed her hands back on his shoulders.

She’d never taken any kind of physical therapy courses, was not a licensed masseuse, and had only had a handful of massages herself, but she knew that the whole of his neck, shoulders and back was one stiff, sore, aching knot. No wonder he’d been cringing in pain for weeks.

Starting small, Darcy’s fingers began their work on his neck. She pressed where she could, rubbing her finger over and over his skin with pressure, until she could feel the muscles finally relax under her attention. She took the same theory to his back that she’d used during law school; go over each fact, one case, over and over, until it was committed to memory and she could move on.

Biting her lip in concentration, she threw herself into the task in front of her. Even when her fingers began to lock up from all the pressure she was exerting, Darcy kept her mind on the end goal. It had started with her just wanting to get rid of the annoyance of his constant grimacing, but now it was her mission to get rid of all the knots in Bucky’s shoulders and neck.

Darcy didn’t even hesitate when the path led her fingers to caress the skin at the edge of the metal that had, even just minutes earlier, given her pause. Darcy didn’t know how it all worked, the connections beneath his skin, unsure if he could even really feel the prosthetic, but the tensed muscles were her goal and so she worked at the boundary between flesh and metal.

Steve’s breath slipped past his lips, his body going quiet, his pencil stopping on the page mid stroke. At first, he’d tried to continue his sketch, but after a glance upward he’d been unable to break his gaze, his entire attention narrowing to the two people on the couch. His vantage point gave him the ability to see both of their expressions. Darcy’s was all business; focused at the task, her movements careful and determined. Bucky’s face, though… the look on Bucky’s face made Steve’s chest constrict.

Since he’d been reunited with his best friend, his lover, the only man he’d ever called his, Steve had never seen Bucky look so at ease. Even when sleeping, in between the constant nightmares and periods of fitful rest, Bucky’s expression was always guarded. Unsure. Restrained. He could never let himself be safe. Or vulnerable. Or still.

Steve’s hands moved on their own, flipping to an empty page, his pencil flying across it. That face. That face was the justification he’d desperately needed. He’d hated that saving his friend had made them fugitives, that it’d caused this much trouble for so many people. He’d fought people he considered family, left the only country he’d ever called home, all in an effort to save what was left of his friend, to get back what he’d lost all those years ago. He’d always felt guilt at how things had gone down, worried that he’d made the wrong choice...

… but he hadn’t. Here, in the clear morning light, he watched as Darcy’s fingers managed to coax Bucky’s muscles to relax, for peace to fill his person, somehow accomplishing something Steve’d begun to doubt his friend would ever feel again.

Bucky had always been able to pull emotions from Steve. Love. Fear. Regret. Steve’s entire childhood had been chasing after the boy with the dark hair and gray eyes. The feeling in his chest when he looked at Bucky was familiar. He understood why his stomach flipped when he looked at his best friend. There was a new sensation in his chest, though, and that was what made him pause. Despite the look on Bucky’s face, Steve found that his gaze kept sliding toward Darcy.

They’d lived together for weeks now, trying to make the best of a bad situation, and it seemed like they’d settled into a comfortable routine. They spoke sharing stories, getting to know one another, but it’d all been surface knowledge, the kind of small talk that filled awkward silences when they’d gone on for too long. He’d been so wrapped up in making sure Bucky was alright that he’d barely taken the time to really appreciate Darcy.

She reminded Steve of Peggy, in certain ways, and his chest ached when he thought of all the things the two women had in common. Darcy was soft, curvy, the waves of her dark hair almost always wild as they slid across her shoulders. Her lips, full and red, were being worried by her teeth as she concentrated on Bucky’s muscles. But that wasn’t where the similarities ended.

Steve knew that Darcy had no problem calling out people when it was necessary, and he’d seen just how sharp her tongue could be when it was warranted. Curses fell from her lips without hesitation, and she’d taken the job of hiding him and Bucky as serious as possible. When she was given an assignment, she attacked it with everything she had, holding nothing back, certain in her decisions.

His body vibrated with loss as he thought about Peggy, and Steve forced his eyes to look down at the drawing of Darcy he’d done, trying to cease the flow of memories his thoughts had drudged up. To stop the line of thinking he knew would only lead to pain, his eyes darted back up, flowing over the curve of Darcy’s hip, the snugness of the shirt as it clung to her chest and strained in the best ways. He found himself appreciating the look of her body against Bucky’s, her skin pale and pink against his dark hair as it hung haphazardly around Bucky’s shoulders. His pencil scratched across the paper and his eyes drank it in, as if the magic of the moment would shatter any second. It seemed like Darcy had cast some sort of spell in the room, making it calm and peaceful, and Steve wasn’t sure he wanted it to end.

Bucky’s breath passed his lips, slowly and measured. The fingers digging into his skin held the entirety of his attention, and he found that he could focus on nothing else. It was a familiar enough sensation, though it was usually expressed in darker ways. When he’d been sent on a mission, when he’d been the weapon of Hydra and no longer Bucky Barnes, there’d been nothing in the world that could get between him and his target. He’d stalk, and hunt, and know nothing but the drive of his assignment.

That same sense of purpose had filled his being again, but this time it was focused on the small exhale of breath on the back of his neck as Darcy’s hands worked on his body. She was warm against him, solid, and the feel of her weight at his back quieted the din that usually filled his head. She was like an anchor, an anchor that kept him present, but at the same time allowed his mind to fade to someplace quieter, someplace hushed. Someplace silent.

He was floating in a haze of warmth. and welcome pressure, and everything else he considered peaceful. Normally he’d have shied away from the serenity, feeling like he didn’t deserve peace after everything his hands had done, but those self-punishing thoughts had faded from his mind completely.

Bucky wasn’t sure how long he’d drifted, silently and contently, but the sound of a tree creaking on the other side of the window to his right brought all the tension and fierceness back to his body. The knowledge of how vulnerable he’d let himself become hit him like a punch to the gut, allowing the robotic feeling of the Soldier to bleed into control. As his heart began to race, he had the sense to whisper ’platypus’. When he realized Darcy hadn’t heard him the first time, he said it louder. “Platypus!” At the word, Bucky jumped to his feet, putting distance between himself and Darcy.

Darcy’s hands snapped away from his body as Bucky jerked out of her grasp, and she held both hands in the air, palms up, surprise on her face. “Sorry, sorry, you’re okay! You said the word and I stopped. We’re good. We’re good, right?”

“Buck?” Steve rose carefully, leaving his pad and pencil on the window seat as he took careful steps toward the pair of them, seeing the expression of panic on Bucky’s face. “You’re fine,” Steve said, voice even, “we’re all fine.”

“Got distracted,” Bucky muttered, gray eyes still flicking to the windows, trying to locate the threat that wasn’t really there. “‘S not safe.”

“It’s okay, Bucky. We’re safe,” Steve said, still amazed by how quickly Bucky could switch back into that automatic alarm, threat training taking over instantly, “there’s no one outside. The tech would have alerted us. We’re good.”

“Tech can be fooled,” Bucky breathed with a shake of his head, senses on overdrive, certain that a threat was on its way, body readying for the punishment he knew was coming.

“Not Stark’s tech. If anyone was out there, we’d know.” Steve closed the distance, feeling the small jerk when his hand connected with Bucky’s shoulder, the other man not relaxing into the touch but categorizing Steve as a ‘non-threat’. “What do you say we go take a walk around the perimeter, just to make you feel better?”

Bucky glanced at Darcy, hands up and palms out showing no weapons. She’d been helping him, and the small thread of fear on her face made him stamp what guilt he’d felt, until he’d returned to feeling nothing but cold and calculated, allowing bits of the Soldier to take control. “Perimeter check. Roger.” Bucky nodded and turned immediately toward the door, not waiting for Steve to join him, needing to be outside, needing to put space between him and the thing that had made him vulnerable.

Darcy watched Bucky make his way outside toward the treeline, his movements smooth but somehow mechanical at the same time. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset him,” Darcy said, hazel eyes filled with the apology as she blinked up at Steve, “I was just trying to help.”

Steve hated that the moment had been stolen from all of them by a simple gust of win. The guilt that tinted Darcy’s hazel eyes didn’t set well in his stomach, and he took a step toward her, wanting to chase away the uncertainty. “I’m sure he knows that, Darcy. He just… he knows you were helping. And you were. Thank you. We’re just going to do a quick sweep then I’ll start dinner, okay?”

Nodding, Darcy watched him follow Bucky outside, both of them disappearing into the woods. She stayed there for a moment, feet tucked under herself as she listened to the silence of the cabin around her. Finally, she pulled herself from the couch and started back toward her open case journal. She paused on the way, eyes glancing to the left and at the open sketchpad Steve had dropped on the window seat.

Steve Rogers. Captain America. Number one soldier for the U S of A and, apparently, a secret artist. That definitely hadn’t been mentioned in his file, at least not in the ones Darcy’d read. He wasn’t just a secret artist, it turned out his stuff was good. As she took in the pencil sketch, it was hard for Darcy to accept the version he’d drawn of her. She knew what her body looked like, knew the assets she was working with and how to use them, but this was… different. These careful lines of graphite had captured something more than she could see in herself.

And it wasn’t just her. The lines of Bucky’s body looked practiced, like Steve had drawn Bucky’s features over and over. It was comfortable. Familiar. However, the look on Bucky’s face was a little shakier, less known. He wasn’t smiling, or frowning. He just... was. If someone had shown this drawing to Darcy and asked who’d drawn it, she’d have no answer. But there it was, Steve Rogers’ artist rendering of her and Bucky, the pair of them, and it was good.

Darcy thought about asking Steve if she could borrow it and make a copy. It wasn’t like she wanted to hang it on her wall like she’d done as a pre-teen, cutting pictures of Leonardo DiCaprio from the pages of Tiger Beat and pasting them everywhere. It just looked nice. Bucky was attractive, in a dark and dirty Bad-Boy-Turned-Good kind of way, and the fact that Captain Freaking America was sketching portraits of her? Unbelievable.

Maybe she’d wait until they were more comfortable around each other to ask him about it. Maybe he’d say no. She wasn’t sure. Darcy didn’t really know him, didn’t know either of them all that well. You could read an entire file on someone but not really know them, after all. Steve Rogers being a artist proved that point. In any case, she resolved to try harder. To ask questions. To not accept answers less than a sentence long. Who were Steve Rogers and James Barnes? She was going to find out, whether they liked it or not.

It was still early when Bucky made his way into the bedroom he shared with Steve, returning from the back porch where he’d spent most of the night. He knew his nightmares were keeping Steve up, and the guilt Bucky felt settling in his chest had gotten so bad that the previous night he’d laid on the floor at the foot of the bed, motionless, waiting for Steve’s breaths to become even before he left the room. He was already a burden to the other man as it was, the last thing Bucky wanted to do was become more of a problem.

The quiet of the forest at night was something else. He knew Stark’s tech would alert them if anyone crossed the sensors, that they’d have plenty of time to formulate a defense plan, but sitting in the darkness, only the sounds of crickets and other nocturnal animals as his soundtrack, it was hard to believe anyone would be able to find them in all the thick vegetation, and for a split second, Bucky had been able to forget they were on the run, that they were fugitives from their own country, and the stillness that come over him was overwhelming.

As the first birds had begun sounding their calls, Bucky’d slipped back inside, making no sound as he returned to their room. He’d wanted to be in and out quickly, just grabbing a change of clothes before heading back out, but as he’d pulled the shirt over his head, he heard the bedsprings shift behind him. Bucky froze, hoping that Steve had just been moving in his sleep, but the mirror he stood in front of reflected enough light that he could see a blond head of hair lift and glance in his direction.

“Buck?” Steve blinked away the last drudges of sleep, sitting up, the sheet pooling at his waist. The way Bucky stood there, still as a statue, made Steve wake even quicker, recognizing the tension as it tightened the muscles on Bucky’s back. He realized with a start that this was the first time he’d seen Bucky with his shirt off since they’d arrived, exposing the long lines of the other man’s back. Steve had memorized Bucky’s body, every dip and curve as familiar to Steve as his own, but he tried to figure out why seeing him without a shirt was causing his best friend such stress.

When Bucky’s arms dropped to his sides, Steve watched the muscle slide under skin, tracing Bucky’s spine with his eyes and traveling up. His eyes stopped when they hit the gun-metal gray of Bucky’s prosthetic and the scars that occured where flesh met vibranium. At first, it was easy enough to imagine that the scars were a means to an end; Bucky’d lost his arm, after all, and no matter who’d done the job, scars were to be expected.

Slowly, as Bucky turned around to face him, dread began to pool in the pit of Steve’s stomach. He followed the line of metal up and over Bucky’s chest, a semi-circle in the skin where prosthetic met flesh. It wasn’t the metal that made the breath in his chest freeze, but the scarring that flowed across Bucky’s chest like candle wax. Those scars had little to do with the placement of the prosthetic, and the longer Steve stared, the more he recognized them for what they truly were.

It hadn’t been a scalpel or any other kind of blade that had formed the deep claw-like marks on Bucky’s skin. It’d been fingernails. Bucky’s fingernails. The pain in Steve’s chest pushed the air from his lungs, eyebrows knitting as the horrible reality set it. “Buck…”

Bucky let the shirt fall from his hands, shaking his head at the look on Steve’s face. “Hey, don’t do that. I don’t want your pity.”

“It’s not pity,” Steve said, swallowing roughly around the lump in his throat, eyes wider and taking it all in, not willing to look away no matter how much he wanted to. “I should have gone back for you,” he said, his voice nothing more than a whisper, “I shouldn’t have left you there.”

Unsure why this reaction from Steve was a million times worse than pity, Bucky crossed the room and stood next to the bed, watching his best friend’s eyes fill with tears. “This wasn’t your fault.”

Steve heard the words, but he didn’t believe him, not when he was face to face with the consequences of his choices. When Bucky had fallen from that train, Steve should have gone back, he should have gone back for Bucky’s body. Bucky’d deserved a proper burial, he deserved to be buried next to his Ma, but Steve had left him there. If he’d just gone back, if he’d just gone back for Bucky’s body, Steve’d have found him still alive. Bucky would have never been found by Zola, he would have never been tortured, or abused, or the never ending list of horrible things that had happened because Steve hadn’t gone back to find him.

When Steve continued to look at him like he was inches away from falling apart, Bucky took a seat on the bed, reaching out to grip Steve’s hand in his. “This was not your fault, Steve. You had no reason to think I’d survived. This. Isn’t. Your. Fault.”

Bucky’s words did little to stop the wave of shame as it rose and crashed in Steve’s chest. He gripped Bucky’s hand tight, the first tear sliding down his cheek. “If I’d known -”

“How would you? The things they did…” Bucky stopped, swallowing harshly himself, the memories of waking up and realizing where he was flashing through his mind. He took a deep breath in, shifting closer to Steve, pushing the darker thoughts to the side. “There is not a single cell in my body that blames you for what happened, Steve. Not one.”

Steve could hear the honesty in Bucky’s voice, and the early dawn light around the curtains allowed him to see that truth in the gray of his eyes. Steve lifted his hand, fingers hovering in the air centimeters above the scarred flesh, gaze flicking up, asking Bucky for permission.

Bucky took a deep breath in through his nose and held it, giving Steve a sharp nod. He resisted the initial desire to jerk away from the contact, an instinct his training had beat into him over and over again. But this was Steve. It wasn’t Zola or his army of sadist scientists. It wasn’t S.H.I.E.L.D., taking x-rays of his arm and trying to figure out how it worked, and it wasn’t a stranger whose motivations were questionable. It was Steve, and other than the woman sleeping down the hall from them, he was one of the only people Bucky didn’t have to be scared of.

Steve moved slowly, tracing the lines with the pads of his fingers, following every jagged edge with careful pressure. He laid his hand over the scar, stretching so his fingers mimicked the position of the lines. “They did this before they gave you the serum?” When Bucky nodded, the air in Steve’s lungs passed his lips quickly.

Though he’d never thought about it, through all the battles of the war and the times he’d gotten hurt since, scars were something Steve had stopped worrying about. The rate at which he healed was so quick that even deep wounds that required stitches were gone within a few days. He’d never considered what would have happened to scars from before he’d been injected with Erskine’s formula. Bucky’s scars had happened before he’d been experimented on, before Zola had injected him with the bastardized version of the serem. “Do you remember it?”

The question hung in the air between them and Bucky said nothing, not sure there was an answer that wouldn’t devastate Steve. He could see the uncertainty cross Steve’s face, the other man’s mouth opening to tell him he didn’t have to answer, but Bucky spoke before he had the chance. “I didn’t understand what was happening at first. I slipped in and out of consciousness most of the time, from pain and whatever drugs they were pumping me with. When I woke up and saw the arm, I tried to pull it off, tried to dig underneath it, find where it was connected and slip free. They strapped me down after that.”

Bucky could see the pain in Steve’s eyes as he spoke, but he knew there was no point in hiding the truth, not when there was nothing to do about it now, no way to erase what had happened. It was fact, no matter how much both of them wished it wasn’t. “After that they started wiping me with the machine. The pain in my arm was nothing compared to that. Then I forgot everything from before.”

The pain was like a living creature, it’s fingers wrapped tightly around Steve’s throat, and he focused so he could breathe past it. Steve’s gaze flicked up to Bucky’s, watching the memories slide behind his gray eyes like a ghost. “Does it hurt now?”

“Not like that,” Bucky said with a shake of his head, “nothing like that. Shuri and her people… it’ll ache, but there’s not much they could do. It’s lighter, and that helps. It’s better. Mostly.” When he saw the same flash of guilt in Steve’s eyes, Bucky reached out and set the prosthetic on Steve’s shoulder, squeezing softly. “I can’t do anything about it now, and compared to everything else, it’s just a drop in the ocean.”

Just a drop in the ocean had been one of George Barnes’ favorite turns of phrase, and hearing it fall from Bucky’s lips so easily forced a smile on Steve’s face, even as his cheeks were still wet with tears. The smirk that lifted Bucky’s mouth was so familiar that he felt his stomach flip at the sight of it, like rain after a drought, nourishing and desperate. The longer he looked at Bucky, the more he could see of the man he’d grown up with, the man he’d fallen in love with, hidden away but there beneath all the pain and trauma, waiting to be dug out.

Steve would wait forever if he had to. Bucky was worth forever.

Bucky’s spine straightened, alarm pinging through his body when he heard movement on the other side of the door. He glanced up, eyes focused on the slit of light at the floor, watching a shadow as it passed by. Bucky held his breath, shoulders sagging when the shower flipped on, confirmation that it was just Darcy and that they were safe.

The instincts he’d had honed as the Winter Soldier were second nature and Bucky’d found his immediate reaction to threats were to fall back on his training, for the Soldier to take control until he was certain the danger had passed. It was something he hoped would fade with time, though he wondered if he’d ever return to the way it was before his fall. If using the Soldier kept him and Steve alive, maybe it was better to have His watchful eye in the background, used for something good instead of horror, something useful instead of pain.

Steve watched Bucky climb to his feet, crossing to the dresser and pulling a clean t-shirt over his head. The weight of their conversation still clung to Steve’s body like a spiderweb, delicate and impossible to ignore, but it appeared the time to speak of horrible things was over, replaced with the routine that Steve knew Bucky needed. “I’m going to change and we can head out for our run,” he said, Bucky nodding at him once before he disappeared into the hallway.

Sitting there in the quiet of the bedroom, Steve took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, pushing the revelations down, until he could unpack them without the threat of derailing all the progress that Bucky had made since they arrived. He’d agonize over the details later, when his guilt and shame could find a useful outlet, when he wouldn’t feel so hopeless.

Chapter Text

Insomnia was a fickle bitch. There were nights when Darcy was dead to the world, so sound asleep that she’d worried her apartment could catch on fire and she’d go down in the flames. But other nights? Other nights it was like she couldn’t get her brain to stop thinking. It wasn’t necessarily relevant thoughts about her work for an upcoming case. No, it was something far worse.

Remember that time in sixth grade when you were reading aloud in science class and kept saying ‘orgasm’ instead of ‘organism’?

Oh! Oh! And that time you got up during lecture to go to the bathroom and heard giggles as you passed? Only to find that you’d bled through your pants and had a giant stain that everyone saw?

Even better! You remember when Trevor told you he loved you and you were so caught off guard that you just said ‘lame’?

Man. Those are really fucking embarrassing. Let’s dissect them in detail!

Darcy grabbed her pillow and pressed it over her face, screaming her frustration into it. Under normal circumstances, she’d have grabbed her phone and played some stupid, mindless game, like Kwazy Cupcakes, but she didn’t have a phone. She had a laptop, but it was left at the cafe in town, Tony’s rule about ‘no electronics in the cabin’ necessary to keep them all safe.

Fuck but she missed tumblr and instagram. She missed TV, and movies, and the billion other things she’d had at her disposal at any given time. Darcy didn’t regret that she’d agreed to leave her life behind in order to make a difference and do what she knew was right, but as the weeks dragged on, she began to feel the loss of the little comforts she’d had before. She sure as shit would appreciate the fuck out of some take-out Chinese when they got home.

In order to get home, though, she needed to get the fucking Accords taken care of, which meant she needed to work, which mean she needed sleep.

Sighing in frustration, Darcy glanced at her nightstand, squinting in the dark, her lack of glasses meaning she could only make out that it was sometime after three a.m.. It felt too early to just start her day, a full six hours before she was supposed to bike into town to work with Tony, but she knew there was no getting back to sleep for her.

Rolling her eyes at the cards the universe had dealt her, Darcy pushed her blankets off and climbed out of bed. Her hands fumbled against the rug, trying to find the oversized t-shirt that she wore as pajamas. Pulling it over her head, she padded across the room and pulled open her door, blinking at the darkness of the hallway.

She’d left the book she’d been reading for research in her bag, and she’d left her bag in the front closet, so she headed that way, figuring she could get some more reading done before the sun came up, trying to make the best out of the stupid lack-of-sleep situation. The wood floor was warm, the ground still radiating the heat from the previous day, and she appreciated the feel of it beneath her feet.

If Darcy had been in the right state of mind, she would have screamed when she opened the closet door and found a body on the floor. In her sleep-deprived state, however, all she could do was blink in surprise, hand still gripping the doorknob, brain trying to make sense of it.

Bucky had wedged himself in the bottom of the closet, curled onto his side, his hair loose and hiding his face from view. She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, looking at him, worry pinging through her body. Darcy glanced over her shoulder toward the bedroom he shared with Steve, almost positive that the blond soldier had no idea his friend wasn’t in there with him. Steve wouldn’t have let him sleep in a closet, that much Darcy was certain of, but the more she thought about it, the less she knew what to do.

She turned back to the man in question, crouching so she could investigate a little more. Darcy’s fingers itched to push the hair from his face, so she could see if he appeared in any kind of pain, but she realized it might not be the best thing to wake a sleeping assassin. As if a lightbulb went off in her head, Darcy realized that this was why Bucky’d been one giant knot since he arrived. The man had been sleeping in a closet. Whether he did it every night wasn’t as important as the fact that he was doing it at all.

Darcy had no idea what the man had been through. The stories in his file could never do it justice, so she had no clue if this was a symptom of something, or if it was the only way to ease whatever anxiety his past had caused. In any case, it made Darcy feel sorry, and sad, and the wave of empathy that crashed in her chest made tears prick her eyes. She’d been worrying about not getting asleep while this man had been dealing with horror and trauma strongly enough that he’d fled the comfort of his bedroom for somewhere dark, and quiet, and tiny enough that he could hide.

She half expected Bucky to wake up any second, to freak out when he saw the shadow of a person poised about him, but he made no move, showed no sign of awareness. It was a hard choice, but Darcy decided to leave him where he was, not wanting to ruin the rest he seemed to be getting.

Though she wasn’t going to wake him, she needed to do something, so Darcy grabbed a blanket off of one of the couches and crossed back to the closet, carefully settling it over Bucky’s body. She wasn’t sure if super soldiers would really feel the cold, but covering him made the worry in her stomach ease the tiniest bit.

Resigned to her lack of sleep, and not wanting to grab her bag and inadvertently wake him, Darcy shut the closet door slowly, staring at it for a second before heading back to her room. She’d need to keep a closer eye on him. Darcy knew the men hadn’t come to her for protection, but she felt the first brush of responsibility for Bucky and his well being, determined to help him in other ways, if she had the opportunity.

The sound of voices in Darcy’s room made Steve frown. He glanced to the window on his left, watching Bucky lift an axe above his head before bringing it down, halving the piece of wood and throwing it on an ever-growing pile of firewood. Bucky had been gruff all morning, a dark shadow under his eyes that seemed to deepen by the minute, but the physical activity seemed to act like a balm and, for the moment, Steve’s worry wasn’t the man outside but the woman they shared a home with.

He climbed to his feet and slowly made his way down the hall. As Steve neared, it became apparent that Darcy was alone in her room, and that she’d been the source of both voices. A small smile curled his lips as he listened through the door.

“Were you aware when your commanding officer ordered you to cease fire that you were going against direct orders from the colonel?
No, your honor.
Did you ever question why you were going against the mission?
No, your honor.
Why did you never question the order?
Because my duty was to my squadron, and Captain Ayers was in charge of my squad.
Did it ever occur to you to that Captain Ayers could have been compromised?
No, your honor.
Why?
I have served under Captain Ayers since I was deployed. He has saved my life more times than I can count. If he was going off mission it had to have been for a pretty good reason.
Is it your opinion that Captain Ayers should be charged with a crime?
If following your gut and bringing all your men home safe is considered a crime, you can make the jail cell big enough for two and put me in there beside him.”

As Darcy went silent, he could hear the scratching of a pen over paper, the sound familiar by now, the shorthand Darcy took notes in filling several pads of paper scattered throughout the cabin. He’d never met someone so devoted to their work, so focused on the end goal that everything else would fade away. It was endearing, and he found the grin on his lips was genuine.

Steve lifted his hand and knocked his knuckles against the ajar door, waiting for her call of ‘yeah?’ before he pushed it open.

Darcy was kneeling beside the bed, her hand moving furiously over the page as she struggled to get her thoughts down before they vanished. When she glanced up, she saw Steve leaned against her door frame, arms crossed over his chest, a pleasant and friendly smile on his face. “Sorry, was I being too loud?”

“No, no, I just heard voices and came to investigate.” He watched an attractive pink flush her cheeks as she glanced down at her pad of paper, an embarrassed shrug lifting her shoulder.

“Yeah sorry,” Darcy said with a wince, “I have a habit of reading aloud. It drove my first roommate at Culver crazy.”

Steve took a step further into the room when she didn’t seem to mind the interruption. “What are you reading?”

“Uhh…” Darcy trailed off, not sure he’d want to the examples of testimony she was researching. Deciding that he wouldn’t be that surprised by the revelation, she glanced up at him, squinting a bit in awkwardness. “I’m looking for cases of soldiers who went against express orders but were not court martialed.”

Oh. Steve’s hands fell to his sides, her answer knocking a bit of the wind from his sails. He knew the choices he’d made would have consequences - it was the whole reason they were on the run and hiding out in the first place - but the knowledge that he’d be looking at a court martial when they returned home made his mouth dry.

Steve took a heavy seat on her bed and Darcy felt the first wave of guilt crash over her. Darcy knew that most of Steve’s adult life had been spent as a military man, ever since he’d been chosen to become Captain America, and she couldn’t imagine what it was like to have the country you’d fought for turn against you. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, giving him a small smile when he looked over at her.

He could see the empathy in her pretty hazel eyes, and for the first time, Steve felt like someone understood why it’d been so hard for him to do what he’d done. “I guess I knew that’d be waiting down the line,” he said, “but even if I’m court martialed, it’ll be ten times worse for him.”

Darcy didn’t need Steve to specify which ‘him’ he meant. Even though Bucky had been cleared of the bombing at the World Council, there were still countless charges of murder leveled against him. Even if they could get them home, she knew there would be people calling for Bucky to be punished for what he’d done as the Winter Soldier.

“I’m not going to let that happen,” Darcy said, her voice firm, eyes flashing as she looked up at Steve. “What he did wasn’t his fault, and he can’t be held responsible for what Hydra made him do. It wasn’t him.”

The conviction in Darcy’s gaze moved something in Steve’s chest. He’d been fighting for Bucky by himself for so long that seeing the same fire in Darcy felt like he wasn’t carrying the weight alone. “If the Accords -”

“You let me worry about those fucking Accords, alright? It might take awhile, but Stark and I are working hard, we’re going to mold that fucker into something that actually helps, and we’re going to get your names cleared, okay?”

When Steve didn’t immediately respond that he believed her, Darcy crawled until she knelt in front of him, reaching out with one hand to grip his, the other circling in the air around her head. “You see this face?” she asked. Steve nodded. “This is my ‘no one’s fucking touching either of you’ face. I’m a stubborn son of a bitch, and if General Ross thinks he’s already won the game, he has no idea how comically and epicly wrong he is.”

The longer Steve looked in Darcy’s eyes, the less anxious he felt. He wasn’t certain if what she and Tony were working on would do what they claimed, but if Darcy’s effort and commitment was all it took, he and Bucky would have been home weeks ago. She squeezed his hand one more time before climbing to her feet, and Steve followed her movements with his eyes. “His Ma used to do that for us.” At her confused look, Steve continued. “She would read to us before bed.”

“Frankenstein, right? I remember you telling me.”

“Among others, but she did what you did. Winnie used voices, butchered accents, anything to make the story come alive, anything to make us laugh.”

Darcy grinned, watching Steve’s eyes unfocus as the memory played in his head. “She sounds like she was fun.”

Steve chuckled, nodding as he stared down at his hands, the ache of loss sharp in his chest. “She was. The things she’d get my mother into... She never treated me like I was glass, or fragile, despite how much it was true.”

“I think she’d be pretty proud of the man you’ve become.” When Steve looked up at her, she gave him a warm smile. “I mean, you’ve bent over backwards to save her boy. Can’t imagine she’d be disappointed. You’re a pretty good guy to have in your corner.”

“So are you,” Steve replied, seeing that same pink fill her cheeks. As she busied herself with putting her things away, he came to his feet. “I was going to start dinner. You have any preference?”

“Hmmmm,” Darcy hummed, her movements pausing as she considered his question. “I could go for some pasta.”

“With garlic bread?” The look she shot him made Steve laugh, and he nodded in approval. “Garlic bread is a requirement. Noted.”

Darcy watched him leave her room, looking down at her feet with a smile before she turned back to her task.

Chapter Text

The anxiety in Steve’s limbs demanded a satisfying expulsion of energy, and his run in the woods surrounding the cabin had done just that. He’d pushed hard, still marveling at the changes the serum had made, how hard he was able to strain, taking his body to the edge. But even so, it was hard to forget the years of coughing, and wheezing, and asthma attacks, and the countless other ailments he’d had as a child. He ran until he was gasping, doing anything to take his mind off of everything. He tried to forget the accords, to forget that he was a wanted man, that the country he’d given his service - had given his life for - was hunting him.

Steve had known it would be hard, being this far off the grid, unable to know anything that was happening outside the two bedroom, one bathroom cabin with no electronics. He and Bucky had grown up without a TV, without the wonder of the internet, so not having access to those things wasn’t a hardship. But not knowing what was going on in the world, not knowing what new perils were emerging without the full weight and threat of the Avengers? That was hard.

… but war was never easy, and this was a war of morals, and integrity, and for the very soul of the world.

It was a war worth fighting, worth winning, worth seeing through to the end.

Steve panted on the front porch, seeing the blue energy signatures in his peripheral vision. Tony had given them everything they needed to be safe, the latest technology. An olive branch, in some senses. Things weren’t perfect between them, but they were trying. They were family, in their own way, and families didn’t always get along.

And it was the act of them trying that mattered.

He caught his breath, grabbing the bottom hem of his shirt and lifting, using it to wipe the sweat from his brow. He paused at the door, thumb pressed against the handle, looking straight ahead. As his identity was verified, the door opened with a muffled ‘click’. He entered, eyes darting around. He didn’t see anyone, but he could hear the faint sounds of music coming from further inside.

Following the noise, he passed by the bedroom he shared with Bucky. Most nights, Bucky slept on the floor, sometimes even using a pillow. It was rare for him to sleep for more than a few hours at a time. Steve couldn’t imagine, being forced to sleep for years on end, woken and asleep, woken and asleep, over and over and over again.

Steve finally located the source coming from the bathroom. He was about to knock on the door when he stopped, hearing Darcy speak on the other side. Her voice was steady, talking just louder than the music, animated in her particular way, but more subdued than normal. Every once in awhile she’d hum along to the music or repeat a lyric.

He froze when he heard the bass of Bucky’s voice. Not long sentences, but not just grunts, either. Bucky was asking questions and Darcy answered them, sometimes switching to a new song. There was a noise that he couldn’t place, a whispering just under the music and words. Finally, he gave the door, which hadn’t been fully shut, a small push and it swung open slowly and silently.

Darcy’s back was to him, Bucky sitting on a chair in front of her. There was a towel on the floor, small piles of dark hair at Bucky’s feet. Steve heard the whisper again and realized it was the pair of scissors in Darcy’s hands. She wasn’t cutting much, just the extra growth from the past few months, but as she trimmed, she spoke about the song playing. Her selections were eclectic, showcasing a wide range of genres. Rock. 80s hair bands. Disco. All the things that Bucky might have missed when he was the Winter Soldier.

Steve watched as Bucky looked up toward Darcy. She bent at the waist, putting her ear closer to him, listening.

“You like that one? I have more from them,” she said, reaching for the ipod that was hooked up to a small speaker. She clicked a few buttons, and the sounds of an electric guitar, drums and bass filled the bathroom. Steve didn’t recognize the music, but he watched as Darcy’s head began to bob in time with the beat.

Bucky asked something, to which she answered ‘Sex Pistols’. He heard Bucky laugh, the sound still a bit rusty. Darcy nodded as she moved the scissors, evening out the bit at his jawline. She reached out and brushed some of his hair off the metal at his shoulder, not even hesitating. It hadn’t been that long ago that Darcy’s hazel eyes filled with uncertainty if his left arm came close to her, but now it didn’t even give her pause.

Steve wasn’t sure when it had happened, but they’d all become comfortable in each other’s space. He supposed living in such close quarters made it a thing of necessity, but it was nice. There weren’t many people who could feel relaxed around Bucky, but somehow, Darcy was. He’d said something to Bucky about it once, about how she was different than everyone else. Bucky’d shrugged his shoulders and replied ‘she’d have to be, wouldn’t she? To deal with all this?’

Darcy straightened, setting the scissors on the bathroom sink, satisfied with her work. “There you go, Metalli-man. Much less hobo and more casually unkempt.”

Steve shifted his weight and the floorboard below him gave a groan. It only took a split second, but Steve watched as Bucky heard the noise and reacted. He was on his feet and turning even as his hand grabbed the scissors from the counter. Bucky’s left arm straightened, the metal plates clicking as he pushed Darcy behind him, putting himself between her and the threat.

He had a perfect view of Bucky’s face, blue-gray eyes lit with alarm, taking in any possible angle of attack. Darcy had screamed, knocking over the speaker as Bucky put his arm up protectively. It hit the ground and broke into plastic pieces, skittering across the tile.

Steve lifted his hands, showing they were empty. “Buck! Bucky, it’s just me!” He looked at the Soldier behind the gray eyes he knew so well, staring at him in uncertainty. It took one, two, three long seconds before Steve watched the Soldier fade and Bucky return. Bucky lowered the scissors, eyes still searching for another enemy.

Darcy pressed a hand to her chest, heart beating a mile a minute, the adrenaline rush leaving her panting. “Jesus mother fuck!”

Hands up, palms empty, Steve waited until he could see none of the cold mercenary that still lived inside his best friend, the one that took over whenever Bucky was surprised. “Sorry, I didn’t mean -”

“Perimeter check,” Bucky said, taking a step toward Steve, jaw ticking as his teeth clenched together.

It was as if it was a conditioned response. Whenever Bucky was caught off guard, the Soldier would make an appearance, as if he was the one who knew how to react to threats. And, whenever the Soldier was pulled from that dark place inside, it would take a minute before Bucky could claw to the surface, refilling his eyes. Doing a quick check of the forest surrounding the cabin seemed to help, so Steve encouraged it.

Steve moved aside, giving enough space so Bucky could slip past him, hearing the back door open and close before quiet descended over the cabin again.

“Damn it,” Darcy said, going to her knees on the tile. She started grabbing the broken pieces of the speaker, one of the only things she’d fought for under Tony’s strict ‘no electronics’ rule. She couldn’t have twitter, or tumblr, or any other type of connection to the outside world, but she’d at least have her music, however it looked like she’d be reduced to earbuds from now on.

“I’m really sorry, Darcy,” Steve said, bending to grab a piece that had slid all the way to his feet.

“It’s not your fault, Steve,” Darcy sighed, gathering the pieces. She knew better than to try to fix it. She knew jack shit about putting things back together. She’d have made a horrible nurse or doctor. She could barely keep a cactus alive. How the hell would she be able to heal anyone? She’d have become an unwitting angel of death, for sure.

“I shouldn’t have been -”

“Steve.” He glanced up at her at the tone in her voice, and Darcy gave him The Look. “It’s not your fault. It’s not his fault. It is what it is. Besides, it wasn’t the first noise to spook him and it probably won’t be the last.”

Her understanding of what triggered Bucky was small, but growing, and she knew enough to know that it wasn’t Bucky’s fault that his fight or flight response was always set to fight. That’d been forced into him over years of Hydra torture. Did the blank look in his eyes that he had from time to time scare her? A little, yeah. Was it any of their faults? Absolutely not.

Steve nodded, not for the first time wondering how she seemed to take everything in stride, before he held the piece out to her. “Tony could probably get you another speaker.”

Darcy rolled her eyes, giving him a small smile. “It’s fine, really. But if you wanted to make it up to me…”

Steve saw her impish look and raised an eyebrow in her direction. “What?”

She laughed to herself and shook her head, hand gesturing vaguely through the air. “Forget it.”

“No, Darcy, what is it? I feel bad. Let me make it up to you.”

He looked so earnest, blue gaze piercing her like knives that Darcy considered not saying it, but it was just too good of an opportunity to pass up. “Let me cut your hair next?” She watched his eyebrows fall a bit. “Steve, really, don’t get me wrong: I like the hot-ass-bearded-man-at-a-Farmer’s-Market look as much as the next person with eyes in their head, but you could use a trim. Maybe not tonight, but soon?” Steve reached up and ran a hand through his hair self-consciously and Darcy’s heart clenched at the thought of hurting his feelings. “Fuck, Steve, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean -”

“It is getting a bit long,” he agreed, rubbing at the back of his neck. This was definitely the longest he’d let it grow, but there was always too much going on, too many things to take care of. Taking care of himself had always taken a back seat to everything else. “Maybe tomorrow? When you get back from work?”

Darcy grinned, happy that she didn’t have to look into his wounded puppy dog eyes and know she’d caused it. “Perfect.”

“Do you have a lot of experience cutting hair?”

“Nope,” she said, smile growing wider, “none at all. But Barnes looked pretty hot, right?”

Steve laughed, nodding his head. He wasn’t sure how she did it, making you believe she could do anything while flying by the seat of her pants, but it sure made things interesting. “Yes. Yes, he did.”

Taking the blond’s agreement as the win that it was, Darcy moved around the bathroom, making a pile of the speaker pieces and picking the chair up from the floor. Steve took it from her and disappeared with the mangled electronics. Satisfied that the bathroom looked the same as before she and Bucky had begun, Darcy picked up the towel from the floor carefully, then slipped out the back door, walking toward the treeline so she could shake the towel clean. “There’s about to be a bird with an amazing nest made of soft super soldier hair!”

Steve laughed, Darcy glancing over her shoulder to smile at him. He caught movement in the trees, eyes focusing on the man he was just able to make out. Bucky was still, watching them, but for once he didn’t seem anxious, or on alert, or tensed for a fight. It gave Steve hope that the Soldier inside Bucky, the one they were working so hard to erase, was fading, bit by bit.

The longer they were here, the better Bucky got. Had Tony known? He and Bucky’d had their doubts about putting someone else in any kind of danger for them, regardless of the high praise Thor had given Darcy. Had Tony known being out here would help Bucky? Maybe it wasn’t just being out here. Maybe it was something else. Or someone else. Someone who didn’t look at them and see an Avenger, or The Soldier, or a science experiment. Maybe it was her.

Steve watched as the subject of his thoughts returned from outside, holding the towel in her hands. Darcy stopped in front of him, patting his chest lightly as she passed. “Your turn to do the dishes, Stars-and-Stripes. But maybe a shower first? You might be as wholesome as Apple Pie, but you sure as shit don’t smell like it.”

Steve laughed, nodding. “Yes ma’am.”

Darcy sighed, putting a hand on her hip as she heard Bucky climb the stairs of the deck. “Come on, man! What did I say about calling me that?”

“Sorry, ma’am. Hard habit to break. I’ll try harder.”

“See that you do, Rogers. See that you do.”

Their normal routine had been waylaid by the torrential downpour outside the cabin. Time seemed to run together in the woods, the only indication of the day was whether Darcy was gone and in town. That was the only reason why Bucky knew it was Saturday; he’d heard Darcy moving in her room, used to her constant pacing by now.

Bucky glanced up, gaze falling on Steve. The blond was sitting in one of the chairs, his feet resting on the coffee table and a sketch pad on his knees. His pencil flowed carefully over the page, each movement precise, every line on purpose. He’d always found Steve’s art to be beautiful, remembering that it was one of the only activities the sickly kid had been able to do despite being ill.

Except for the nights Steve’d shivered uncontrollably with fever.

Or when he’d been too fatigued to move his body at all.

Or when the lack of blood flow left his hands and feet in stages of cramps, tears of pain pooling in Steve’s eyes when he was unable to wrap his spasming fingers around a paint brush.

“What are you working on?” Bucky asked, his eyes connecting and holding Steve’s when he looked up.

Steve let the air pass his lips slowly, his gaze flicking back toward the page in front of him. His conversation with Darcy from a few weeks prior had nestled in his brain and stayed there, demanding that he move the vision from his mind onto paper. “Just a sketch.”

Bucky could hear the hesitation in Steve’s voice, but knew it wasn’t because Steve didn’t want to show him, but because he’d always doubted his art was any good. It hadn’t mattered how hard he’d tired to convince Steve that his hands were incredible and that the portraits he drew were stunning, it was never enough to make Steve feel deserving of the praise. It was one of the fights they’d been having for forever, and it seemed the serenity of the cabin had done little to cure him of his self-doubt. “Can I see it?”

Sighing, frowning with uncertainty, Steve set his pencil aside and held the sketch pad out toward Bucky. He watched his best friend’s eyes, nervous for his reaction, wondering if it would be too hard for the other man to see.

The air in Bucky’s lungs froze as his eyes poured over the subject on the page. Winifred Barnes had been a warm, loving, stubborn woman and, somehow, Steve had managed to capture her perfectly. Her gaze was sharp, a small smirk on her lips, a hint of knowledge lifting her brows and accentuating the mind behind the gray eyes that she’d passed down to her son and daughter. “Steve, this is…”

A look of open emotion chased it’s way across Bucky’s face, beautiful and honest, enough to set Steve’s heart racing. When Bucky looked back toward the paper, Steve took the opportunity to really look at his best friend.

In the weeks since they’d arrived at the cabin, Steve’d noticed a distinct change in the other man. Where before there’d been silence, now there was conversation. He’d come upon Bucky and Darcy on the back porch, the raven-haired woman’s hands flying through the air as she recounted a story about Thor, earning a laugh and a follow-up question. The sound of Bucky’s laughter sent shivers up Steve’s spine, just like it always had. Now, he found himself appreciating Darcy’s laugh, too. Steve’d stopped trying to question the why of Darcy’s apparent magic powers, and simply decided to appreciate them.

Wanting to see more of their past, Bucky began flipping through the other pages in Steve’s sketchpad, eyes lighting over still lifes of the trees that surrounded the cabin, the detail in the feathers of a crow that had spent a few minutes on the railing outside, cawing just to fill the air with its voice.

The drawings weren’t just of their life here, but also of their life before, on the streets of Brooklyn and in the tenement apartments they’d called home. The attention Steve paid to shadow and light, using it to bring life to the sketch, left Bucky in awe. He’d never be able to make something so beautiful with his hands, especially after all the blood that had stained them. As if he could feel the darker thoughts threatening on the edge of his mind, Bucky flipped to the next page, breath passing his lips slowly. The sketch was like the others, stunning in its detail, but the subjects in this particular drawing that made Bucky’s eyes seek every edge, every shade, every minute and deliberate line Steve had done.

Darcy’s face was a mask of concentration, lower lip being worried by her teeth as she focused. Her arms led to Bucky’s shoulders, the illustration of her hands a bit shaky, as if Steve had been moving quickly in an effort to capture it all. The expression on Bucky’s face was almost unrecognizable, even though he felt that peace all over again just by looking at the drawing of it. He could practically feel Darcy’s fingers as they dug into the knotted muscles of his back and shoulders, the last time anyone but Steve had touched him in any way other than the punishment of pain.

There was an emotion behind the moment Steve had caught, and Bucky swallowed past the lump in his throat.

“They’re just sketches,” Steve said dismissively, when the sound of the rain outside had become the only noise and he’d needed to vent his anxiety at showing Bucky something so intimate, something he hadn’t really unpacked himself just yet, the first time he’d looked at Darcy as anything more than just a conscripted babysitter.

“They’re not just sketches, punk,” Bucky said with a shake of his head, glad he was able to stop his hand from shaking when he flipped to the next page. His eyes lit up with recognition and he threw Steve a smile. “I know this place.” When Steve leaned forward, Bucky flashed him the drawing of the small meat market that had been just down the street from them in Brooklyn.

“You damn well should, considering you almost got us killed,” Steve said with a shake of his head.

“It was his fault for jacking up the prices around Christmas,” Bucky said with a frown. “Someone needed to call him out for being the feckless shyster he was. Doing it right before the holiday, like some kind of criminal?”

“You’re lucky he threw the chunk of ham at you instead of the giant meat cleaver,” Steve said, his mouth curling upward into a smile, “and that you caught it. Though, we did eat like kings that night.”

“Luck had nothing to do with it. He was no Walter Johnson, that’s for damn sure.” Bucky’s eyes lit up in recognition, the smile on his face growing in size. “Ma made her stew with that ham, you remember?”

Steve nodded, “I do. I remember the recipe. We should try making it sometime. It’ll taste like -”

“- home.” Bucky’s steel gray eyes flicked up to look at Steve, smiling at the expression that crossed the blond’s face. He could tell Steve was being careful, filling in the gaps of memory, not pushing too hard, trying to rebuild the man who’d been deliberately destroyed. The more intimate details of their lives, before they’d been stolen by Hydra, floated at the edge of every conversation.

Do you remember? Do you remember what we had? Is it gone? Is it lost for good?

There was an ocean of unsaid words between them and Bucky felt every inch of water. When he felt movement behind him, he could practically follow the tension as it began to climb up his neck. He didn’t turn, but watched Steve’s face for any hint of danger. It wasn’t alarm that flashed over Steve’s face but curiosity, with a healthy helping of disbelief. Trying to stay as quiet as possible, Bucky turned his head and cast a glance over his shoulder. His eyes widened slightly before he schooled his features.

Darcy had made her way through the living room and into the kitchen, a book held open in front of her as she walked. Her usually wild hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun, wisps of dark hair floating around her shoulders. She made it to the kitchen, her hip nudging the island in the middle of the floor as she went, completely oblivious. Bucky and Steve watched as she brought a hand to her face, pushing the black-rimmed glasses further up her nose, where they immediately slid back into the same position. She brought a finger to her mouth, tongue darting out to lick it before she turned a page and reached up to grab a mug from the cabinet.

The motion lifted the hem of the oversized shirt she wore, revealing that she was, in fact, wearing only the shirt and a pair of heather blue underwear. The bit of fabric stretched over her skin, hugging her curves, leaving much of her pale legs exposed. They watched as she opened the fridge, grabbed the glass bottle of milk from inside the door, and proceeded to pour herself a drink.

Darcy placed the bottle of milk on the counter and licked her finger before turning another page. Distractedly, she grabbed the mug she’d just filled, placed it in fridge and closed the door with her hip. She wrapped her fingers around the half-full bottle of milk and wandered back toward her room.

At no point had she looked up from her book.

Bucky heard the door to her room shut. He turned to look at Steve, raising an eyebrow in the blond’s direction, both of them sporting slightly mystified expressions. “We’re going to need more milk.”

Chapter Text

When sleep eluded, Darcy had a routine she liked to follow, something familiar, something she hoped would push her closer to rest. A few quick games of solitaire with the ancient playing cards she’d found in one of the closets was attempt number one. Even though the colors and suits had started to blur together, she was no closer to sleep than she’d been an hour before.

Attempt number two was to do a few pushups, but when Darcy couldn’t complete a single, on-form push up, that attempt was chalked up to stupidity at completely overestimating her upper body strength. There was this one tactic, and she’d readily admit it was a little weird, but she’d had good results with it in the past, so she said to hell with steps three through seven and decided to jump right to step eight.

Darcy pushed out of her room, glad when she was greeted by the silence of the cabin. It was still dark outside, several hours left until dawn arrived, and she was glad to see Steve and Bucky were both sleeping soundly. It’d been a little bit since she’d found Bucky stashed away in one of the closets - or under the kitchen table, or under a blanket on the back porch, or on top of the washer and dryer - and she hoped that meant his nightmares had been happening with less frequency.

Closing the bathroom door behind her, Darcy answered the call of nature and flushed before crossing to the sink. She washed her hands then grabbed her toothbrush, putting a healthy dollop of spearmint toothpaste on it before shoving it in her mouth. She watched herself as she brushed, a friend’s advice ringing through her head.

There are studies that say if you chew gum while studying, chewing that same gum during the test can help you remember things!

Darcy was almost certain her classmate had been spewing bullshit, but years ago she’s added it to her insomnia routine, hoping the motions of brushing her teeth would kickstart her mind into realizing it was time to sleep. It wasn’t one-hundred percent accurate, but it’d helped a handful of times before.

As her mind went over the next problem she and Tony were trying to solve, she spit into the sink and cupped her hands under the water, swishing it around her mouth before spitting again. She straightened, leaning forward to smile at herself in the mirror, making sure there weren’t any random bits of food that had appeared since the last time she’d brushed her teeth that night.

In the reflection, she watched the aqua-colored shower curtain ruffle. Darcy froze, waiting for the curtain to ruffle a second time so she knew she wasn’t just seeing things. When another slight wave happened, Darcy turned on her heels, her eyes widening. She took in a deep breath, repeating that she was in probably one of the safest houses on the planet and the entire cabin was chock-full of the last defense technology. If someone had broken in and decided to wait for her in the shower, they’d have had to bypass Stark’s precautions and, despite how annoying the billionaire could be, he knew his stuff. Since she was sure it wasn’t a burglar or some other person there to do her harm, Darcy reached out to grab the curtain then ripped it open.

So much for fewer nightmares, Darcy thought with a frown, her eyes taking in the man before her.

Bucky had drug a pillow and blanket from the couch into the clawfoot tub and made himself a nest. Darcy could only see the top of his dark hair, and for a second, she debated leaving him where he was. He was asleep, and that was good, and she really didn’t want to disturb him…

… but she knew he’d be aching in the morning, and some part of Darcy knew she needed to help him beat whatever sleep shenanigans were going on. She shifted her weight from one leg to the other, teeth chewing on her bottom lip as she tried to figure out the best way to wake up one of the worlds most feared killers, preferably without dying herself.

Mind made up, Darcy flipped the lid and took a seat on the toilet. She leaned forward, elbows poised on her knees, and whispered his name. “Bucky.” When that did nothing, she raised the volume of her voice. “Bucky.”

She wasn’t sure how it all worked, but Darcy was hit with the disconnect between it all. The simplest noise while he was awake could send Bucky into alarm, enough that he had to walk the perimeter before he started to relax again. It’d happened several times now, but it was in strict contrast to the situation before her.

When Darcy found Bucky in these awkward sleeping arrangements, it was almost impossible to wake him up. It was as if he needed the confined spaces to get any real kind of rest. She didn’t know exactly why, but she’d mused out a hypothesis the longer she thought about it.

From what she’d read, Bucky had been stored in a cryotube when Hydra didn’t need him. If that was what he was used to, it made sense that he’d be looking for something like that. Good or bad, his mind must have made the connection, but Darcy refused to believe that the little quirk couldn’t be worked through with time and effort.

Darcy let out a soft sigh before dropping to her knees next to the tub, the tile floor cold on her skin. She rested her cheek on her left arm, using her elbow as a pillow, her other hand hovering over his face, unsure if touching him was the best way to go about it. Deciding it wasn’t, she put both arms on the rim of the tub and set her chin on them. “Bucky.”

Consciousness slammed into Bucky with a jolt, his body going taut when the echo of his name sounded off the tile. His eyes snapped open, holding the breath in his lungs, blinking heavily to clear the blur from his vision. When everything came into focus, he was left looking at a concerned Darcy, so close to him that he could smell the mint on her breath as it fanned against his face. His heart rate slowing, he glanced around the bathroom for any kind of threat, but found none.

“Your neck is going to hate you tomorrow if you stay in here,” Darcy said, her voice soft and calming.

He swallowed, tongue swiping out along his bottom lip. “Didn’t wanna wake Steve.”

“I know,” she said, reaching out to brush some of the hair at his forehead, the movement so automatic that she hadn’t even stopped to consider it. “I’m not going to be able to sleep anymore, so I figured you could bunk with me and try to get some real sleep.”

Bucky searched her gaze for any kind of ulterior motive, the first few moments after waking heavy with the Soldier until it was confirmed there was no threat of harm, but saw nothing except Darcy’s pretty hazel eyes and an empathetic smile.

Darcy watched him consider her offer, thoughts turning over in his mind, before he gave her an almost imperceptible nod. She climbed to her feet, holding out a hand so she could help him from the tub. He extended his prosthetic and she pulled, groaning with exaggeration. “Fucking fuck but you’re heavy,” she gasped, grinning when he rolled his eyes at her. She didn’t let go of his hand when he got to his feet, letting him trail after her, not rushing him but not allowing him drag his feet, either.

Gray eyes flicked around when he entered Darcy’s room, taking in the interior. It was clear that she’d been working, judging by the mass of notes and books on her desk. He noted the drawers that were slightly ajar on the dresser and the queen size bed that appeared rumpled and unslept in. He heard her curse under her breath before she slipped past him and into the hallway, patting him lightly on the arm as she went. Bucky took another step into the room, glancing over when she returned with the pillow and blanket from the tub.

“The bed’s not going to bite you,” Darcy said as she pulled her door closed, leaving it ajar, knowing that Steve would freak out if he couldn’t find Bucky when he woke. “It’s normal inhabitant, though…” Bucky nodded at her but didn’t move. After several more seconds, Darcy reached out and pushed on his shoulder. “Just get in the damn bed, Barnes.”

The order settled something in him and Bucky was moved to action, crossing the floor and pulling himself onto the right side of the bed. He stayed sitting, legs crossing under him, looking over at Darcy with a hesitant expression. He caught the pillow when she threw it in his face, letting out a quiet chuckle.

Darcy climbed onto the bed, crawling until she pressed her back to the headboard and pulled the sheets over her bare legs. She grabbed the book she’d been reading from the nightstand before reaching for her glasses and slipping them on. “You okay if I keep the light on and read for a bit?” When Bucky nodded, she turned to the page she’d left off.

“’You must find this strange,’ he says.
I simply look at him. The understatement of the year, was a phrase my mother uses. Used.
I feel like cotton candy; sugar and air. Squeeze me and I’d turn into a small sickly damp wad of weeping pinky-red.
‘I guess it is a little strange,’ he says, as if I’ve answered.”

Bucky looked over at Darcy, the baritone voice she’d adopted for one of the characters catching him by surprise. “What book is this?”

“The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood,” Darcy answered, “it’s one of my favorites.”

“Do you always use voices?” The memory of Steve saying Bucky’s mother did the same floated to the front of her thoughts and she frowned softly. “I can stop if you want.”

“No,” Bucky said, coughing softly when he realized how much his voice had cracked, “no, you don’t have to stop. I like voices.”

Darcy smiled at him, watching a matching grin blossom on his face, too. “I should warn you, the book can get pretty dark. A black dystopian future, a totalitarian government, and a hellscape for women.”

Bucky snored softly. “What year’s it set in? 2019?”

Darcy rolled her eyes at the joke, though part of her wondered just how funny the non-joke joke really was. “Touche. You might as well settle back and get comfortable. Hopefully my dulcet tones will help you drift off to sleep.” She waited for him to scoot down the bed, bunching the pillow under his head before turning on his side to face her, nodding when it appeared he was set.

“I think I should have a hat on, tied with a bow under my chin.
‘I want…’ he says.
I try not to lean forward. Yes? Yes yes? What, then? What does he want? But I won’t give it away, this eagerness of mine. It’s a bargaining session, things are about to be exchanged. She who does not hesitate is lost. I’m not giving anything away: selling only.
‘I would like --’ he says. ‘This will sound silly.’ And he does look embarrassed, sheepish was the word, the way men used to look once. He’s old enough to remember how to look that way, and to remember also how appealing women once found it. The young ones don’t know those tricks. They’ve never had to use them.
‘I’d like you to play game of Scrabble with me,’ he says.”

Chapter Text

“That’s not going to do it,” Darcy said, glaring as she shook her head, dark curls sweeping across her shoulders. “It still leaves it open for political maneuvering.”

“This is politics. There will always be maneuvering. We need to way to minimize it. There’s no way to institute term limits, but we need to find another way.”

Tony paced the length of the table, hand rubbing at the back of his neck. Quiet descended over the room, Darcy’s eyes glancing out the windows and onto the rolling green fields on the other side of the glass. The more she focused on fixing what they could of the Accords, the more nebulous it all became. There were so many layers of protection that needed to be built in to make it safe for everyone involved.

And that didn’t even take into consideration the large amount that’d already been revised by Stark and King T’chaka. What the Accords had looked like before they’d gotten a spot at the table? It’d been a disaster. A complete and utter disaster. The things it’d have caused the Avengers to do…

No, she growled to herself, not if I can help it.

Darcy Lewis didn’t have powers. She couldn’t throw boulders, or travel through space and time, and she sure as shit wouldn't fit in one of Stark’s metal suits, but she was going to help fix this. If they could just set up a committee that -

“An oversight committee,” Tony said, fingers snapping as he beat Darcy to the punch. “We can’t institute limits on the countries representatives, but we can rotate and cap committee appointments to a specific time frame. Nothing too long.”

“A year, maybe two? And we can make it rotate. If everyone has to get a chance to be on the committee, it’ll keep any one country from getting too large of a foothold,” she said, nodding, fingers already flying over the keys of her laptop. “Until everyone gets a chance to be on it, there’ll be no repeats.”

Tony leaned on the table, eyes looking out the windows. “There might be countries who object to being on the committee. Maybe they don’t want to split their force, maybe they just don’t want to play the political chess game…” He clicked his tongue, fingers drumming on the top of the table as he considered the problem, then turned toward Darcy. “Add in that even if a country doesn’t want to send anyone into the committee, they’re still beholden to the decisions of the committee, regardless of whether they choose to represent or not.”

Darcy leveled a look in his direction. ‘“Beholden’?” she said with a small smirk.

He shrugged his shoulders, pacing closer to her. “Hey, you’re the one who speaks legalease. Make it pretty. Everyone gets a turn, it’s randomly chosen, make it as hard to influence the results. No campaigning, just names thrown out as possible candidates.”

She nodded, typing more notes. “At least Ross won’t be able to get close anymore,” Darcy said, the corners of her mouth pulling down.

“Soon, Ross won’t be able to do much of anything,” Tony said, brown eyes narrowing slightly.

“You know you’re not technically my client, so there is no kind of confidentially, right? If you’re going to kill someone, I’d suggest not talking about it.”

The amusement on Tony’s face was real as he turned to look at her. The hazel eyes behind her thick glasses hadn’t changed at the talk of murder, not even a flinch, as she focused on her notes. “Not murder, no, but a few of the naughty things he thought he’d hidden well enough are about to make a grand reappearance. He won’t be able to get a job at Kinko’s when I’m done with him. But this? This is a good start.”

She did look up at him then, head cocking to the side. “I’m almost positive that you could have found someone with more experience, more… real-world, hands-on -”

“That’s why I came to you.”

“You came to me because of my Uncle’s cabin,” Darcy argued, putting her chin in her palm and her elbow on the table.

“Partly, yeah. But you do have hands-on, real-world experience. Did you know that Thor calls you a shieldmaiden?”

Darcy grinned to herself, remembering the first time the Norse god had called her that. “He’s mentioned it once or twice.”

She looked up when Tony’s fingers snapped then wagged at her. “Yep, there it is. See? You’ve been surrounded by gods, and aliens, super serum soldiers and giant death-ray robots, and you’re still relatively well adjusted.” At the look she shot his way, he held up his hands. “I’m just saying we need someone who is okay with things not being normal. And that’s you.”

Rolling her eyes, Darcy leaned back in the chair, arching her back and hearing it pop in several places. “Stark, I still have a stack of briefs to read over. We can pick this up Monday?”

“Taking the weekend off? Got a hot date?” Tony couldn’t help the smirk that turned his lips as her eyes stabbed him with imaginary daggers. “What do the three of you get up to?”

Darcy didn’t answer him as she began to gather her things. After slipping the laptop and assorted office supplies back into the cabinet they were store in, she sighed and finally turned to him. “It’d be nicer if we were wired in. Radio. TV. Internet.” He opened his mouth to comment but she waved him off with a shake of her hand. “I know. Safer, easier, better, blah blah blah. I’ll see you Monday.”

She reached out and pressed the button on the black box, Tony’s form immediately disappearing. Darcy pushed through the door, grinning at the woman behind the counter of the small coffee-shop and internet cafe. “Merci de me laisser utiliser la pièce, Sabine. Je serai de retour lundi.” (Thanks for letting me use the room, Sabine. I’ll be back Monday.)

The woman held out a small basket in Darcy’s direction, “c'est vraiment pas grave, Grace. Nous sommes simplement reconnaissants de la subvention pour mettre à jour notre équipement.” (It’s no problem, Grace. We’re just grateful for the update to our equipment.)

At the mention, Darcy’s eyes flicked to the new laptops that were sprinkled around the room. They were subtle, no large and flashy Stark logos anywhere to be found, but it was obvious (to her at least) who had provided them.

’It’s practical,’ Tony had explained, ‘means we can discuss things, and I can monitor the outgoing flow of messages to make sure there’s no mention of you and your roommates.’

‘One: not my roommates. Two: monitoring outgoing messages is a horrible invasion of privacy and -’

‘Take it or leave it, Lewis. I’m only notified if someone’s using specific keywords. I’ll probably only stumble across some horribly written fanfiction about Cap. Or worse yet? Well-written fanfiction.’

Darcy grabbed the basket, peeking inside. There were a few glass bottles of cold-brew coffee, some muffins, and a few pieces of fruit. “Ceci est incroyable. Merci!” Hitching her bag a little higher on her shoulder, she pushed through the line that was beginning to form behind her. Her bike was outside, leaning against the wall of the building, and she secured her bag and the basket to the back before she pushed off. (You’re amazing. Thanks!)

Darcy had always been a gadget girl, needing to have the latest iPod and iPhone the second it came out, a whiz on social media and the latest fad websites. Having nothing but an internet-disabled MP3 player and a set of earbuds had sounded like torture, a slow death spurred on by silence. As she biked past the rolling green fields of the French countryside, though, she was able to admit the peace she could find in the quiet.

If she’d been the only one in the house, she’d have died of boredom weeks ago. How could anyone be bored if they lived with Captain America and the Winter Soldier? Darcy rolled her eyes at herself as she coasted down a hill, the trees growing thicker and thicker with each quarter mile. She ignored the mental image that popped into her head as she thought of the men she currently shared a home with. At first it’d been hard to think of them in any other way than what the world knew; Captain America, patriot of the finest order, America’s favorite son, a stalwart pillar of justice and truth. The Winter Soldier, Hydra assassin and instrument of terror for the past 70 years. Good and Evil. Black and White. Right and Wrong.

But the more she was around them, the more human they’d become. Just like with Thor, she’d started to see them as people, with flaws and personalities, with beating hearts and hard emotional baggage. Just like everyone else.

Well, okay, no. Not just like everyone else, but still. They were... Real. That was one of the reasons she’d agreed to this crazy plan of Stark’s. They were real, and human, and didn’t deserve what Ross had tried to paint them as. They deserved better. They deserved more than being fugitives, looking over their back, being used and abused and taken advantage of.

Darcy’s legs pumped as she pushed through the forest, down the barely-there path that led to her uncle’s place, surrounded by green and trees and the sounds of wildlife. The animosity she’d shown Stark had begun to wane when she saw how hard he was working to fix what had been broken. He’d managed to get the others pardoned for their crimes, somehow arguing that they were following Cap’s orders and that they, somehow, had no way to know that their actions weren’t some kind of undercover mission.

She didn’t know where they were, the group that had been freed from the bullshit illegal floating prison, but she supposed that was by design. The fact that they were out, their names cleared, gave her hope that, someday, they’d be able to do the same for Steve and Bucky. It would just take a little longer, with a little more sleight of hand and work-around.

But where Stark was trying to keep them safe politically, it had fallen to her to protect them physically. Not that she’d need to physically protect them - Seriously? Come on. - But they were there with her, to be kept hidden, to be watched over, to be cared for. She wasn’t anything special, despite the bullshit Stark kept throwing in her direction, but when she was given a job, she did it.

Help an astrophysicist and a Norse god save a tiny New Mexico town, even though you shouldn’t have been there in the first place?

Sure.

Travel to London with said astrophysicist and help save the world from an invasion of dark elves?

A little weird, but okay.

Help protect two super soldiers who could kill her eighteen ways with their little toe, and keep them hidden so the governments of the world and all the bad guys out there can’t find them?

Great. Sounds likes fun.

Darcy couldn’t see anything through the trees, but she knew it was there and, when she crossed over an invisible threshold, the cabin materialized at the end of the path. She shivered, not enjoying the way the hair on the back of her neck lifted as she broke through the barrier. The two men would have been alerted to her return, more Stark technology helping them stay safe and hidden, and she slowed as she neared. She frowned when she heard a strange noise, a series of grunts and the sounds of a fight, somewhere on the other side of the cabin.

As her heart began to beat faster, Darcy dropped her bike, hearing the glass bottles in the basket shatter. She ran toward the sound of fists hitting flesh, fumbling as she pulled her taser free from the inside pocket of her jacket, finger on the trigger as she flew around the corner.

She blinked, eyes flicking over the scene, brain trying to bring it all together.

Steve was wearing a tank top, white but dotted with dirt and blood in several places, his skin covered in a sheen of sweat. He was barefoot, a pair of blue sweatpants hanging low on his hips and hiding nothing, his face a mask of concentration. His fist flew forward, deflected at the last minute by Bucky’s arm. Bucky was in all black, his hair pulled back and held at his neck, leaving his eyes clear. He was sweating as well, but the dark fabric hid any blood stains. The only way she knew Steve had landed a punch was by the small trickle of red at the corner of Bucky’s mouth that had started to drip down his chin.

They were a flurry of limbs, knees and elbows and fists, and as they moved, Darcy couldn’t help thinking of it as some kind of dance. They were fast, so fast, and she couldn’t look away, mesmerized by the back and forth, the give and take. Neither held the upper hand for long, punches landing and glancing from time to time, but they were matched, blow for blow.

The arm that had been holding the taser fell heavily to her side, the rush of worry being replaced by fascination as she watched their bodies come together then break apart again. She must have made a noise because Bucky turned to look at her, taking his eyes off Steve. This was a mistake, as Steve took advantage and pressed forward.

After a series of movements, Bucky had been pushed to his knees, his metal arm held up and pulled back at a painful angle, Steve’s jaw clenched as he applied pressure, causing Bucky to drop the knife that Darcy hadn’t even seen in his hand. When Bucky’s gray eyes flicked up to look at her, surprise and pain darkening them a second later, she couldn’t help herself.

“Hey! Hey!” Darcy dropped the taser to the ground, instead launching herself at Steve. She saw his blue eyes widen right before she hit him. He hadn’t had the chance to brace himself, so Darcy succeeded at knocking him off balance, making him fall to ground on his ass, surprise coloring his features when he looked up at her..

Darcy hadn’t realized how easily Steve could be moved, assuming she would do little more than bounce off of him like a gnat, so she cried out as she began to fall with the momentum. Her arms cartwheeled through the air, looking for anything to keep her upright, when she was pulled back and saved from her fall. She was left sitting in Bucky’s lap, his metal arm wrapped around her stomach, Steve’s eyebrows lifting as he looked at the both of them.

There were exactly three seconds of silence, the only sound that of a bird calling in the distance, before Darcy smacked out at Steve’s chest. “What the fuck!?” When the arm from behind her tightened, she reached down and slapped at the metal, too.

“Darcy we were -”

“ - just sparring,” came the rasp near her ear, warmth fanning against her neck.

“Sparring? Sparring?!” When Bucky’s arm gave her an inch, Darcy barreled forward, pushing both hands against Steve’s chest for leverage before scrambling to her feet. The men shared a look before turning back toward her with widened eyes. “Sparring doesn’t usually involve blood and knives!” Darcy bent, fingers digging into the dirt before picking up the knife from where it’d been dropped on the ground. “For fuck’s sake, you’re bleeding!”

Steve held his hands, palms up, in her direction. “We heal quickly,” he said, immediately regretting the comment when her cheeks pinkened deeper. He could almost see the waving lines of frustration distorting the air around her. Darcy’s chest heaved as she took in a deep breath, hair floating around her as a breeze rustled through the trees.

The screech that left Darcy’s mouth was sudden, and neither man was prepared when she turned away from them and threw the knife as far as she could into the trees. It flipped, end over end, disappearing from sight in the brush.

"Hey!” Bucky said, climbing to his feet. “That was mine!”

Unlike Steve, he did have enough time to brace himself when Darcy turned around and pushed against his chest, his body not giving an inch, despite the multiple hits from her hands. “Yeah, well, you’re mine, asshole! Both of you! Mine to keep safe! Mine to keep hidden! And I come home and find you kicking the shit out of each other?”

Bucky and Steve kept their mouths shut, watching as Darcy’s breaths came out in short, angry pants. After thirty seconds of harsh glaring, Darcy ran a hand over her face, her shoulders suddenly sagging with exhaustion. It had been a really long week and they were getting no closer to fixing the whole Accords situation so they could get home. She felt like a failure and she was taking it out on them. Fuck. “I’m taking a shower. You better not get blood or dirt anywhere inside or I’ll use you as target practice, and just so we’re clear, I have horrible aim.”

They watched her spin away, throwing open the back door then closing it with a slam.

A bird warbled somewhere in the trees, breaking the silent spell that had been cast.

“She -”

“Yep,” Steve said with a nod, hands resting on his hips as he squinted at the sunlight, looking in Bucky’s direction.

“Does she really think -”

“That we were kicking the shit out of each other, or that we’re somehow hers to keep safe?”

Bucky considered the question, reaching up to brush a sweaty bit of hair out of his eyes. “Both.”

“Probably.” Steve couldn’t help the grin that turned his lips at the baffled look on Bucky’s face. When Bucky started moving toward the house, Steve reached out and grabbed his elbow. “Hey.”

Bucky’s hand reached up to press at the small cut at the corner of his mouth, tongue darting out to lick at it. “What?”

Steve opened his mouth to speak, but closed it with a huff. He looked toward the tree line, then back at Bucky. “You gonna get your knife?” He laughed when Bucky’s fist darted out in his direction, easily sidestepping out of the way.

“You’re a fucking punk,” Bucky growled, though he did start toward the edge of the property in the direction Darcy had chucked the knife.

Chapter Text

It didn't take much for the cabin to become too quiet. They were in the middle of the woods, near a sparsely populated village, where very few people even had a car; off the beaten path didn't even cover it. But Darcy supposed that was the whole point. In any case, the hush that had fallen in the space since Steve and Bucky had left for a run (Or a fight? To lift heavy rocks as a testament to the super serum testosterone that was pumping through their veins? She could never be sure...) was deafening and she'd grabbed her iPod in an attempt to drown out the sound of nothing.

Darcy's thumb swiped on the iPod, older than the beat-up car her and Jane had drove around in New Mexico, biting her lip as she tried to decide what she felt like. Punk? Nah. Something jazzy? Mmm, no. A musical? Pass.

She wanted something a little different. Something that would keep her entertained while she worked on her chores. She'd loaded the device with her whole music library, an eclectic mix of everything from doo-wop to show tunes, and some days the vast collection was impossible to weed through.

Oh! Got it!

She heard little 'click' sounds in her ear, a grin immediately growing on her face as she found the mix she was looking for. She tucked the iPod into the front pocket on her t-shirt and started rifling through the cleaning products that had been stuffed under the sink.

The cabin wasn't large, just two bedrooms and one bathroom, but it managed to become covered in a thin sheen of dust every night. She supposed it had something to do with the way the house had been built, compounded with the dirt that being in the woods seemed to generate, but what it meant to her was that it needed cleaning. Often. And, according to the chore chart she'd created and stuck to the front of the refrigerator, it was her day for dusting. She grabbed the bit of flannel (an old t-shirt of Thor's that she'd stolen,without his knowledge, while in New Mexico, cut into strips) and started moving around the space.

Most of the furniture her uncle had bought for his 'summer home' was wood, and she set about swiping the exposed bits. With the light streaming in the windows, she could see the little dust motes as they were kicked up, glinting gold as they wafted through the air. Darcy stopped humming along, hiding her face in the crook of her arm as she sneezed. Rolling her eyes - fucking dust - she continued her cleaning.

It didn't take long for her to start dancing to the music pumping from the earbuds, her body getting into the beat and crash of drums. Feeling very Risky Business, Darcy slid across the floor, the thick wool socks on her feet sweeping everything into a pile she'd clean up later. The chores became second nature, taking a backseat to the song and her body's response to it.

When they'd been in London, before there was a portal to Asgard or dark elves and the specter of certain death, she'd dragged Jane (kicking and screaming) to one of the dance clubs near where they were staying. The scientist had still been pouty about the lack of contact from Thor, lamenting about the horrible bad dates she kept having, and it had been enough to make Darcy go crazy. So, instead of killing the woman who had inexplicably become her best friend, Darcy had demanded a night out without talk about 'quantum fields' or 'ionized atoms that behaved in ways that shouldn't be possible'.

Jane had hated it at first, complaining about the music, and the price of the drinks, and how hot it was and 'oh my god that guy is going to come over and talk to me please don't let him talk to me'. Darcy had known exactly what Jane would complain about (‘never let it be said that I don't understand Jane Foster’), and had come prepared. She pulled the cardigan from Jane's shoulders against her protests, stuck it in the backpack she'd brought, and pulled out the large flask she'd snuck in. Jane wasn't wrong about the price of the drinks, and it wasn't like astrophysics fellowships paid well, so Darcy’d planned ahead. The final piece of the puzzle? She'd produced two sets of wireless earbuds.

They'd danced the rest of the night to their own playlist, pretending they didn't speak English whenever someone approached, drinking from the flask and floating happily on a cloud of music and passion fruit coconut rum.

She missed Jane. She missed Thor. She missed Selvig and the internet and fuck did she miss take-out food. Crab rangoons and dumplings, pizza and chicken wings, pasta and perogies. As she thought about food, her stomach made it known that she hadn’t eaten since that morning, and as that’d only been a handful of granola and few strawberries on her way out the door, she needed some kind of sustenance, STAT.

Darcy pressed pre-heat on the oven, switching loads of laundry while she waited. She’d made it clear when they arrived that she would not be doing the boys washing, and they hadn’t argued the point. She might be keeping them hidden and safe, but that didn’t mean she was going to clean their underwear.

They had to have some kind of boundaries.

Making her way back to the kitchen, she grabbed a box from the freezer, removed the plastic wrap on top, and slid it into the oven on a cookie sheet. A few more minutes and she’d have a complete TV dinner that only tasted the slightest bit like cardboard. She flipped on the tap and squirted in a bit of soap, head bopping as the sink filled with bubbles. Darcy’s yellow rubber-gloved hands swung wildly with the beat, hips circling, body swaying to the music. She started scrubbing, humming out an offbeat harmony.

When Bucky had suggested they hide weapons in the woods, Steve had scoffed at the idea. ‘if we’re going to be attacked, it’ll most likely happen at night while they were in bed’. He’d stopped complaining when Bucky had described at least three kills he’d carried out that had necessitated the target being driven from their home, leaving them exposed and weaponless.

He hadn’t said anything when Bucky had recommended Steve hide weapons of his own, places Bucky wouldn’t know about. Just in case, he’d argued. Just in case it’s me you’re running from. Steve knew better than to argue, as it’d been a fight they’d been Not Having for months.

So he’d left Steve in the woods, the blond selecting places to hide weapons that could be used to pacify the threat that Bucky could become at any moment. When Bucky pushed through the front door, he’d expected quiet. And it was, mostly, except for the woman standing in front of the sink. He watched her move, humming to herself. Darcy was wearing a pair of fabric shorts and a ratty t-shirt, worn so thin in places that it was practically see-through and obviously meant for someone much larger. Her hair was piled on top of her head, some curls having broke free from the tie, seeming to float around her head as she danced.

Bucky debated whether he should say anything. If he walked by her, it might frighten her to see something move in her peripheral vision. He coughed, loudly, twice, but she made no move that she’d noticed him. Deciding there was nothing to do about it, he crossed the floor, hand reaching out to tap on her shoulder.

“Fuck!” Darcy screamed. It didn’t matter that she knew there were only three people that could enter the home, or that she was probably safer here with the two super soldiers than she was anywhere else on the planet, but she’d been so deep in the music that she’d jumped at least a foot in the air.

The glass that’d been in her hand slipped from her gloves and would have shattered on the floor if it hadn’t been saved, inches from the tile, by Bucky. Her heart beat out a dizzying melody that was nowhere near the beat still blasting in her ear. She could feel her cheeks heating with embarrassment and she pressed a wet glove to her chest as she tried to regulate the pounding in her chest before she passed out.

Bucky’s mouth was moving but she couldn’t hear anything. “What?” She lifted her hands to pull out an earbud but was still wearing giant rubber gloves. She leaned forward and turned her head to him. “Take one out!”

Frowning, Bucky set the glass on the counter then reached out toward her. He had to push a bit of hair back before he could pull the device from the delicate shell of her ear. He could hear the music, impossibly loud, as it screamed from the gadget. “How do you still have your hearing?”

Darcy rolled her eyes, “says the super assassin who can fire AK-47s without ear protection?”

The easy way she’d called him an assassin without flinching brought his eyes flicking up to her, gaze studying for any fear or judgement. He considered telling her that he was much more partial to an M249 Saw, but knew she’d have no idea what he was talking about. “What are you listening to?”

“A mix I made for Jane. I keep adding new stuff to it. It’s good music to dance to. Take a listen.” She watched the look of uncertainty on his face and matched it with an exasperated one of her own.

He hesitantly placed the piece in his ear, eyebrow raising at the sound that began to pierce his brain. “You can dance to this?” His lips twitched at the scoffing sound she made, watching as she tossed the scrubber into the sink and spun to face him.

“Is that a challenge?”

“You taking it as one?” One corner of Bucky’s mouth turned up in amusement when as she peeled the gloves from her hands and threw them on the counter. Her eyes flashed defiantly, the hazel-green darkening as she closed the distance between them, a soft pink brushing across her cheeks.

“Alright, old man. Bring it.” Darcy laughed when Bucky’s hands lifted in what she could only assume was some 1940s era pose: right hand hovering near her shoulder, metal hand ghosting at her hip. “If you start doing the gilly-hop or something else, you’ve already lost. Maybe we try my way first?”

She wasn’t screaming but leaned closer, talking loud enough so he could hear her over the music in both of their ears. Bucky raised an eyebrow but nodded at her a second later. As if on cue, the song changed to something with a thumping beat. It was like nothing he’d ever danced to before and he was certain it showed. He moved experimentally, feeling awkward. It had been at least seventy years since his last dance and he had no idea how to even start.

Darcy could see the doubt cross his features. It wasn’t so long ago that he’d continually worn a mask of nothing, face blank, devoid of any personality or life; that he was able to show any kind of weakness or vulnerability with her was growth. And if she could make him smile? She’d be deserving of the mental gold star she’d give herself.

She grabbed both of his hands, somehow still surprised when the metal was warm against her skin. Darcy distractedly wondered if it had a heater inside to regulate temperature during the winter, but threw the thought aside as she lifted their clasped hands above their heads, grinning at the slight widening of his eyes. “Just go with it!”

The bass echoed his heartbeat as it pounded in his ear, watching Darcy as she turned in the circle of his arms, hips swaying from side to side. It took a few minutes of analyzing her movements, but eventually he started to relax into the music. It wasn’t really about steps, he discovered, nothing that he could make out anyway. She was laughing, bubbly and light, and he found himself enjoying the sound as it fell from her lips. He couldn’t explain it, but something in his chest released as he was charmed by her body moving against his..

It became abundantly clear that he had no idea how to dance to modern music, but Darcy did the best she could, grabbing his hands, spinning away from him then making her body crash into his. He was solid six-foot-nothing of expertly honed muscle, and if she was enjoying the way she slotted against him, well, who could blame her? Besides, he was already moving less like a fish-out-of-water and more baby-goats-first-steps, so he seemed to be picking it up.

When Bucky lifted her arm above their heads and spun her, Darcy leaned into it, giggling when she went the slightest bit off balance. He managed to keep her upright, though, snaking a hand around her waist. “Not bad for an antique,” she said, going up on her toes to speak into his earbud-free ear.

Bucky had to duck his head toward her, feeling the brush of hair across his cheek. “Like riding a bike.” When he pushed her body away from his then brought her back in a jerking motion, a faint memory of a move he’d learned so many years ago, she let out a bright peel of laughter and he joined her, watching as her cheeks blossomed a beautiful rose from the exertion of keeping up with the pace of the song.

Finally, as the song began to fade out, Darcy took a moment to catch her breath. She’d never had to dance with someone who had an endless supply of energy and could run for days, but she found herself wishing for a slower song. As if the mighty Thor himself had heard her plea, the first refrains of a slower song started in their ears. She saw recognition in Bucky’s eyes, the gray-blue suddenly brightening. It was a little perfect, a little on-the-nose, but the way he’d reacted to the sound made her grin widen.

Bucky was assaulted with nostalgia; memories of listening to the radio, of the big bands that would pack dancing halls, the music of bass cellos and top-hat drums, singers demanding attention with their voice alone. He didn’t recognize the song, but the beat was all too familiar, and this was a song he knew how to dance to.

Darcy didn’t argue when he wrapped her hand in his and held it to his chest, closing the distance between their bodies until she was pressed against him, the warm metal of his hand resting gently on her hip. Bucky could feel the fabric under his prosthetic, and it was incredibly soft from wear. There was still laughter in her eyes, bright and happy, and as the song played loudly in their ears, he took the lead.

Feet moving in time, the song modern but the sound vintage, Darcy smiled up at Bucky. In the weeks they’d lived together - had it already been two months? - she could count on one hand the times she’d seen him this loose. She knew it was a necessity, that he was always on alert, always watchful and tense and ready for battle, but she felt the first stirrings of pride in her chest. She could see the rigidity melt out of his muscles, if only for a moment, and it made her happy to know she’d been partly to blame.

If you had told her three months ago that she’d be dancing with the Winter Soldier in her uncle’s cabin, she’d have recommended a seventy-two-hour hold in a mental hospital, and she’d have suggested the one Erik Selvig had lived in because it’d seemed nice. But even a month ago, when they’d been simply cohabitating-but-not-really-living together? No. She still wouldn’t believe it.

“You’ve got a nice smile, Mr. Barnes, anyone ever told you that?” Darcy asked, rewarded when the smile she’d just commented on grew brighter. Fuck but he was handsome when he forgot he was supposed to feel tortured in some way. If her stomach flipped a little when she looked up at him? She wasn’t going to lose sleep over it.

“Once or twice, doll,” Bucky answered, leading them to sway side to side, not even sure it still counted as dancing, “once or twice.”

Darcy’s eyes flicked from his lips, to his eyes, then back again. He was so pretty, and handsome, and she’d have to be blind not to find him attractive. And she wasn’t blind. And he sure as hell was attractive. She’d have to go on her toes to press her lips to his, which wouldn’t have taken much of anything, really, and the longer he smirked at her, with Those Eyes and That Mouth, the easier she found herself rationalizing the thought.

She’d almost convinced herself - Would it be awkward as hell if he didn’t reciprocate? Definitely. Would it still be worth it? Better to beg for forgiveness than ask for permission - when she saw his eyebrows knit together and his focus move to look behind her.

Bucky’s mind had gone to a quiet place as he looked down at Darcy, almost remembering what it’d felt like back in Brooklyn, when things had been good, before the war, before the train and the fall, and before Zola had hallowed him out and shoved someone else inside. When her lips had parted (soft and pink and full), his eyes flicked up to hers, the look in their hazel depths both confusing and familiar at the same time.

Bucky’s attention had been drawn away, however, when the smell of burning pierced his senses. “Is that smoke?”

“Fuck!”

Darcy pushed away from him, spinning toward the oven. She’d forgotten to set the timer! Just as she began to see the roll of black clouds filter through the vents on the top of the stove, the music in her ear was interrupted when the fire alarm began to scream. Ripping the earbud from her ear and throwing it on the counter, she grabbed the oven door and pulled it open, coughing when the scent of blackened char and burning paper spewed toward her. “Fuck!” she repeated with feeling, looking around the kitchen for the pot holder, hand waving in front of her face to clear the smoke.

Bucky put both hands on Darcy’s hips and physically moved her out of the way, reaching into the oven with his prosthetic and pulling out the cookie sheet and what he assumed was supposed to be her dinner. The alarm was a high-pitched wailing in one of his ears, the other filled with screaming guitar as the next song began to play.

He dropped the cookie sheet into the soapy water, jumping back with it sizzled and spit. He put his arm out to keep Darcy back, away from the scalding droplets and steam that rose in waves. Bucky turned when she cried out, gray eyes looking down to see a red mark on the pale skin of her arm. His stomach dropped when he realized he’d held her back with his prosthetic, which was already hot with transferred heat from the oven and cookie sheet.

“Oh, hell, ‘m sorry,” he shouted over the shriek of the smoke detector, positioning his body so the offending arm was as far away from her as it could be. A rush of confusion rolled through him when he realized she was her shoulders were shaking with laughter. “What?”

“Anyone ever tell you that you’re hot?” she screamed at him, eyes lit with amusement at her own joke.

The look of bewilderment on his face sent her further into giggles. There was just a small mark on her arm (honestly, she’d burnt herself worse with her curling iron before) and it was the surprise, more than anything, that’d caused her to cry out. It took him a moment longer until one side of his mouth curled upward, finally catching on that she hadn’t really been hurt. Soon enough, they were both laughing, the fire alarm still screeching, gray smoke hanging around them in the air.

When the front door was kicked in, Darcy screamed for real. Bucky was in front of her in an instant, putting his body between her and the threat, the broadness of his shoulders blocking any view she’d have.

“Are you alright?”

Darcy let out a breath when she recognized Steve’s voice, filled with worry and concern, as he shouted to be heard over the shrieking. Darcy flinched when Bucky grabbed a knife from the pile of dirty dishes and threw it at the smoke detector. It stopped sounding with a small pop and fizzle, the butterknife no doubt embedded into the wall. “Hey!”

Bucky had the grace to turn to her with a small look of guilt. “Sorry.”

“What happened?” As Steve’d approached the house, he’d known quickly something was wrong. A thin cloud of smoke was curling from chimney and, as he’d gotten closer, he could make out the unmistakable sound of an alarm. He wasn’t sure his feet had ever carried him so fast. He’d bypassed the security measures with a swift boot to the door, skidding into the room, looking for Bucky and Darcy.

“Apparently I decided I wanted to try my TV dinner flambé tonight,” Darcy explained, “my bad.”

Heart still racing, Steve looked at the both of them. Their cheeks were pink, eyes bright, both of their shoulders vibrating with laughter. It occurred to him that he should be jealous, seeing them share a joke that he wasn’t in on, but all Steve could do was marvel at how relaxed Bucky looked. He wasn’t sure what it was about Darcy Lewis, but she seemed to be able to do or say the exact thing it took for the tension to drift away from Bucky, leaving him unburdened and weightless, if only just for a little while. Steve’d been noticing it for weeks now, and he couldn’t find it in himself to be anything but thankful. There was still so much that they had to rebuild, but Steve could see more and more glimpses of the man he knew from Brooklyn as the days passed, and he knew a large part of that was thanks to the raven-haired woman who was still laughing softly.

“Maybe you open the windows to air everything out and I’ll make dinner?” Steve smiled when she nodded, shaking her head at herself before she moved toward the windows in the living room.

When she moved out of earshot, Steve leaned closer to Bucky. “What were you doing while she attempted to burn the house down?”

Bucky looked at Steve, feeling lighter than he had in months. “Dancing,” he answered, eyes narrowing when a look of disbelief colored Steve’s face. “Hey, I can dance, punk.”

“I know,” Steve replied, memories jumping to the forefront of his mind. He could almost see them appear on Bucky’s face as they sparked in him as well. Bucky’d had to practice dancing with someone, after all, and dancing with Steve in that tiny apartment had been a little slice of heaven, a brief respite from all the ugliness and sorrow that had colored the years before Bucky’d been given his orders.

Opening the windows had helped clear out most of the smoke, but there was still a haze and the smell of burnt cardboard in the air. “Hey.” Both boys turned to look at Darcy, whose head was tilted to the side as she looked at them consideringly. “You called me ‘doll’,” she said to Bucky. His face lost a bit of the life she’d seen bloom there and, after a second, Bucky gave her a guarded nod. She let the moment drag for a bit before her face split into a large grin. “I don’t hate it.”

Steve could feel tension ebb from Bucky at her words, and Steve’s eyes widened when Darcy threw a wink in his direction before sliding down the hallway and out of sight, humming under her breath. He let out a breath when Bucky turned to look at him, his lips slanting in a smirk, and once again, Steve was happy to see more of Bucky Barnes in his best friend’s eyes than The Soldier. “I’m gone for less than twenty minutes and there’s dancing and fire alarms and nicknames,” Steve said, the smile on his face belying his words.

“Imagine what we could have gotten up to in an hour,” Bucky joked, voice low, gray eyes darkening to slate, taking a step toward the blond.

Steve’s gaze trailed from Bucky’s eyes, pupils blown wide, to Bucky’s lips, which were pink and wet from a swipe of his tongue. Whatever spell Darcy had cast still hung in the air, and Steve found himself closing the distance between himself and Bucky, chest burning with need, desperate for the heat of skin and lips pressing together.

“Who left their towel on the floor again?!”

Steve practically heard the bubble pop as Darcy’s cry shattered the moment. Bucky’s spine straightened, and Steve watched the tension flow back into the other man’s body, a touch of seriousness returning to his eyes. There’d been a moment, though, when Steve’d seen that boy from Brooklyn, the man he’d fallen in love with, with all that charm and bravado. He was still in there, Steve was certain of it, and even if it took forever, he was willing to do anything to bring him back.

“Go apologize,” he said, reaching out to squeeze Bucky’s shoulder, “or we’ll never hear the end of it.”

“How do you know it was me?”

“Really, Buck? You’re going to play the fool?”

“Sorry, forgot that was your job.” Steve’s thumb rolled over his clavicle, skin warm, and Bucky could feel the swell of something in his chest. It felt like he was coming up for air. He’d been clawing at the dirt, and he was getting closer to the surface, but he wasn’t there yet. He just needed more time. Don’t give up on me, he thought as he locked gazes with Steve, please don’t give up on me.

Steve’s hand slid across Bucky’s shoulder as the older man moved away, toward the bathroom and Darcy. He could hear the bass of Bucky’s voice and her annoyed higher-pitched response, grinning when both voices got steadily louder. The sound of both of them laughing lifted some kind of weight from his chest as he began cleaning the mess they’d made.

Chapter Text

"You're an asshole, you know that?" Steve said as he pushed his way into the cabin, tugging at his sweat-drenched t-shirt. The sound of Bucky laughing behind him made his smile widen, and he thought about how often he'd heard it in the past few weeks. The lift of it was familiar, and he looked over at Bucky as the other man crossed to the sink in the kitchen, bending toward the spigot and taking a few long drinks before he straightened and wiped a hand across his mouth.

Bucky glanced up at the clock, noting the time. "You want the first shower?"

"Sure," Steve said with a shrug, pulling his shirt over his head. When he looked in Bucky's direction, his best friend's eyes were cast down at the floor, his tongue swiping along that pouting bottom lip that had always been able to tear Steve apart. He left Bucky standing in the kitchen, shutting the bathroom door behind him. He stripped quickly, flipping the water on, standing under the cold spray, letting it cool his body, which was still warm and thrumming from their run.

He pushed the shampoo through his hair then rinsed, letting the pressure of the water beat on his shoulders, his muscles aching at the energy they'd just expelled. He knew that he'd be fine in a few minutes, like they hadn't just run a marathon in the forest that surrounded the cabin, but for the moment he enjoyed the tug and pull in his arms and legs. Steve shook the water out of his eyes, blinking to clear them. His gaze landed on the small caddy hanging around the shower wand. His and Bucky's toiletries were generic, neither of them caring much about how they smelled as long as it wasn't 'bad'. Since Darcy hadn't complained, he figured they were fine.

Darcy, however, had an entire shelf in the caddy to herself. There were a myriad of bottles and jars filled with goo, a bright pink shower poof, and a lady's razor that looked much more complicated than it needed to be. Steve reached out and grabbed Darcy's shampoo, popping the top and bringing it to his nose. The scent was like honey and almonds, light, and he took in a deep breath of it. It was possible she wore perfume, but more often than not, it was the small of her shampoo that he caught when she walked by, the aroma floating on the air even after she'd gone.

He took another deep breath of the scent into his lungs before he finished rinsing, figuring he'd made Bucky wait long enough for a shower of his own. The bathroom was quiet when the water stopped slapping against the tub, and Steve sighed when he realized he hadn't brought clothes to change into. He wrapped a towel around his waist, wiping his wet feet on the rug before he pulled open the door. "Hey, Buck, it's all..." Steve's words faded, his eyebrows lifting toward his hairline.

"Jesus," Darcy breathed, feeling the heat flood into her cheeks as she gaped at the specimen of a man in front of her. When she'd suggested her sneaky plan to Bucky, he'd seemed more than happy to go along with it, even willing to keep Steve out on their run longer than normal so she could set everything in motion. She hadn't counted on the flesh feast before her, and since she was a human being with eyes, Darcy looked her fill. How a man with that many muscles still managed to have a tiny swimmer's waist was mind boggling, and she decided it had to have been engineered by the hand of whatever patron saint watched over stupid hot soldiers. Saint Erskine, perhaps.

When the candle-laden cake in Darcy's hands began to dip, distracted by Steve and his state of undress, Bucky slipped a hand under the plate and righted it, though his eyes also stayed on Steve and his lack of clothing. When Steve's hand gripped the towel a little tighter, a flush of pink in his cheeks, Bucky cleared his throat and gave his best friend a smile. "Happy birthday, punk."

Blinking, Steve's eyes flicked from Bucky's face, to Darcy's, then to the cake in their hands, a surprising and highly dangerous amount of candles topping the thing. Days had begun to blur together since they'd gotten to the cabin and he hadn't given the actual date any thought. They were in rural France, after all, so it wasn't like there were going to be fireworks displays or Fourth of July parties to remind him. "That's... those are a lot of candles."

Pushing past the instant lust that had burst into her chest at the sight of him, Darcy took a step forward, lifting the cake for him to inspect. "One hundred of them," she said with a smile. "After all, you're a centenarian now!" She wasn't sure how she'd not put two-and-two together to figure out that Captain America's birthday really was July 4th, but when she'd realized what a huge deal it was, her brain had starting working on a mission. It wasn't like saving the planet from a hostile alien force, but it'd been a mission nonetheless. That Steve looked so surprised made her think she had a job in the shadier, more clandestine fields of work.

"You didn't have to go to all this trouble," Steve said, his blue eyes shining as the flames reflected off Darcy's glasses.

"Cake was not the trouble. Just wait until it gets dark and you see the rest." Darcy smirked at him, vindicated when he looked as surprised as she'd hoped he'd be.

"You didn't let Bucky make the cake, did you?"

"Hey," Bucky said, coming to stand next to Darcy, a corner of his mouth lifting, "I'm not that bad."

Darcy shook her head. "No, no, I'm the baker, he's on dinner duty, but let's worry about food after you blow these out, preferably before they burn down the whole joint."

Chuckling softly, Steve leaned forward, taking in a deep breath before blowing out, the flames of the candles flickering before they were extinguished in a wave of smoke and sulfur.

When Darcy let out a loud 'Whoop!' and began to jump up and down, Bucky darted forward and took the cake from her hands before she dropped it on the floor, slipping it onto the island. "Did you leave me any hot water?"

"Didn't use any," Steve said with a grin, chest constricting as he looked back and forth between the two of them. Growing up with the little they had meant birthdays had been small affairs. His mother and Bucky's had always done their best, though, making his favorite food and having a small pile of gifts they'd scraped together. That Darcy and Bucky had put thought into the day filled him with a warmth he hadn't felt in a long time.

"Alright. Rogers, why don't you stop flaunting all that skin and pull on some pants. Buck, wash that funk off you because you smell wrecked. I'll get the rest ready." When both men followed her instructions, doors shutting them from sight, Darcy crossed to the fridge and tore open the freezer door before sticking her head in it, a desperate attempt to quench the hunger that had grown in her chest at the sight of that much of Steve’s body.

Darcy let her fork fall onto her plate with a satisfied groan. "Ugggh. If I were any less of a lady, I'd be popping the button on my pants right now."

"I'm surprised you're still wearing your pants," Bucky said with a grin, his right arm stretching across the back of her chair, grinning at Steve.

"Too full to move." Darcy slouched down in her chair, stretching her foot so she could nudge Steve's thigh with her toe, a half-empty glass of wine held loosely in her hand. Darkness had descended over the forest slowly, and the roast Bucky had made had been all but devoured by the trio. "Well? Was it as good as you remembered it?"

"It was a little dry." Steve laughed, catching the oven mitt when Bucky tossed it at his face. "No, it was great. I have high expectations for the cake."

"But no pressure," Bucky said, looking over at Darcy, laughing when she stuck her tongue out at him.

"I'm actually a fantastic baker." Darcy sat up straighter in her chair. "I can follow directions with the best of 'em. If you want a sugar coma, I'm your girl."

Steve leaned forward, resting his arms on the table, blue eyes bright. "And yet you became a lawyer instead of opening your own bakery."

"I guess you could say arguing with people is my one true passion." When Bucky snorted to her left, she shrugged her shoulders.

"So what made you decide to become a lawyer? From what I read in your file -" Darcy rolled her eyes at the mention of the file they had on her at S.H.I.E.L.D. " - you were an intern for astrophysicists. Not exactly on the requirements to get a law degree." When Darcy just shrugged her shoulders, seeming to brush off his question, Steve cocked his head to the side. "What is it?"

Sighing, Darcy leaned into Bucky's side, taking warmth from the man. "It's just not that great of a story."

"I think we'd still like to hear it," Bucky said, smiling when she looked over at him. "We promise we won't laugh."

"I don't believe that for a goddamned second," Darcy said, putting just how much she doubted that in her soft glare. When they continued to look at her expectantly, she sat up a bit straighter, feeling like her story wouldn't hold up to the important realization they seemed to think had occurred. "When Thor first arrived in New Mexico, things were weird. I mean, a man traveling on a bridge of rainbows? Crazy atmospheric changes and other realms? It was all a little too hard to believe, even though it was right there in front of my face. When he left, it seemed like things were going back to normal.

Then New York happened and people were calling for the Avengers to be punished for some of what had happened, and I realized things were just gonna get worse. Here you are, fighting to save the freaking planet, and people are angry because their Volvo had just been detailed before a giant alien creature landed on it? Fuck that. Someone was going to need to work on your behalf."

Bucky watched Steve's face as Darcy finished, recognizing the look in his best friend's eyes. It wasn't every day that you could impress Steve Rogers, but Darcy'd been doing that since they'd arrived. "So you jumped from astrophysics to law?"

"Fuck no," Darcy said with a laugh, shaking her head, "no, I was never into the astro or the physics, but I was into Janey, and Selvig, and the way they worked to understand things no one else could. When I was given the opportunity to do something that actually made a difference, I dove in. If I'm going to do something, I'm going to jump in with both feet. Don't know if you'd figured that out yet."

"I think we're starting to get it," Steve said, watching the smile light her face as she looked at him with fondness.

Tearing her eyes away from the birthday boy, Darcy climbed to her feet with a groan. "I'll do dishes."

"I'll help."

Darcy turned and glared at Steve. "It's your birthday. You'll sit your ass right there and watch." When Steve held up his hands in surrender, her glare softened.

"Then I'll help," Bucky said, glancing over at Darcy.

"You're fucking right you will," Darcy grouched, tossing a towel at him, watching as he caught it easily, "then we'll slide into the next bit of my master sneaky plans."

"Do you know what else she has planned?" Steve asked out of the corner of his mouth as he and Bucky watched Darcy spread a blanket on the grass behind the cabin.

"You kidding? This was all her. I'd forgotten it was even your birthday."

"No, you didn't," Steve said, blue eyes swinging to look at Bucky.

"No," Bucky agreed, holding Steve's gaze with a smile on his face, "no, I didn't. But she did beat me to the punch for planning, not that I minded. She's got better ideas than me."

"We should let her tell us what to do more often."

"Absolutely."

Darcy clapped her hands together and turned back to the men, arm sweeping out and inviting them closer. "There! Go ahead and have a seat on the blanket and I'll grab the bomb!"

Both men laughed at her words, watching as she flew up the stairs past them and disappeared inside. Realization of what she'd just said hit Steve and he looked over at Bucky in alarm. "A bomb? Was she serious? A bomb?"

"Keep your red, white, and blue panties from twisting and just sit your ass down, Rogers," Darcy said, emerging from the cabin with something held in her fist. She waited until Steve and Bucky had taken seats, neither of them looking as carefree as they had ten minutes ago. "I know we can't have fireworks out here, for obvious reasons, but that doesn't mean we can't express our love for the ol' USofA and celebrate your birthday with some fire!"

"That's not a bomb," Bucky said, seeing her silhouette from the glow of the cabin's windows.

"Let me have my fun, Barnes, for fuck's sake!" When the man did nothing but look at Steve for commiseration, Darcy bent in the grass, shoving the cylinder-shaped package in her hand so it stood upright in the ground. “Even though you’ve spoiled my thing,” she said, tossing a soft glare over her shoulder at Bucky, “I will tell you that this took me an hour to prepare, so I expect some calls of ‘ah!’ and ‘ooh!’ or I have failed.”

“Pretty sure you don’t know how to fail, doll,” Bucky said with a grin.

“You’ve obviously never seen me try to shoot a basketball,” Darcy said as she produced a lighter from the pocket of the sweatpants she’d changed into. She cupped her hand around the starter, leaning back when the sparkler lit and began its shower of light. Crawling backward, she fit herself between Bucky and Steve, nudging them apart with her hips. “Okay, this is going to go fast, so be prepared.”

“Should we be scared?”

“Your virtue is safe for the night, I promise.” When Steve gave her a grin, Darcy returned the expression, turning back to the sparkler with expectation.

“What is it -- oh fuck!”

Darcy shouted with laughter when Bucky lifted his left arm and held her back, his eyes widening in alarm when a stream of fire and sparks shot straight into the air, at least twenty-five feet tall. “Whooooo!” Darcy clapped as the flames lit up their surroundings, the shadows in the forest growing deeper. She looked over at Steve, watching the orange reflect in his eyes, eyebrows lifted in surprise.

It only lasted a few seconds and soon enough to flames began to wane, leaving only a small pile of burnt duct tape, metal sticks, and a smoldering ruin. “And that is what you call a sparkler bomb!”

“Where did you learn to do that?”

“One of the kids who had a crush on me in junior high thought I’d appreciate fire. He wasn’t wrong about that part, but it didn’t get him the date he’d hoped for,” Darcy said with a shrug, squirting the leftover debris with a bottle of water, hearing it spit as the flames were extinguished.

“A dame like you musta been popular with the fellas.”

Darcy turned to look at Bucky with wide eyes. There was no indication in his face that he’d said anything out of the ordinary toward her, and she was struck by how innocent that turn of phrase had meant back when he and Steve had been growing up. “Uh, being ‘popular’ means something completely different now.”

“You didn’t date?”

“People don’t really date much anymore,” she answered Steve. When she sat back on the blanket, the looks on their faces made her laugh. “It’s all apps on your phones and swiping left or right. You become ‘facebook official’ now,” Darcy said, her fingers forming air quotes, “and block them when things go south. It’s not a great system. I’m too busy to deal with all of that. Besides, I don’t think I’d luck out and find someone who understood me ghosting to live in France for the foreseeable future. Seems like a bit of a deal breaker. I’m going to grab the cake.”

“No, I’m going to grab the cake, you sit.”

Steve’s eyes followed Bucky’s path toward the back door before turning his attention back to Darcy, a small frown turning his lips. “I know you put your life on hold us, for the the Accords. I’m sorry if -”

“Shut up,” Darcy said with a roll of her eyes, “I’m pretty sure we’ve had this conversation before and I will repeat what I told you then: I chose this, okay? I wasn’t guilted into it, I wasn’t convinced to do it, Tony didn’t leverage anything over my head. I knew what I was getting into when I agreed. You have nothing to apologize for.”

“What’s he apologizing for now?”

Steve took the plates and forks from Bucky’s hands so he could sit with the cake while Darcy refilled the glass of wine she had at her side. “Something stupid,” she said, smirk curling her lips when Steve looked up at her with an expression of exasperation. “He’s apologizing for me being here.”

“For her having to be here,” Steve corrected, taking the large slice when Bucky shoved it in his direction.

“We’re not keeping her here against her will,” Bucky said, rolling his eyes at the ridiculously large bite of cake Darcy shoved in her mouth. “Though I don’t know what we’d do -”

“Sherishfly?!,” Darcy said around the sweet in her mouth. She swallowed and grabbed her glass, taking a large sip of wine before clearing her throat. “Both of you just sit there and enjoy your fucking cake. Honestly. It’s like you’re trying to be dense.”

“I might be dense, but this cake is not.” When both Bucky and Darcy groaned loudly at his words, Steve blinked at them with his large blue eyes. “What?”

When the cake had been destroyed just as thoroughly as the roast, and the sounds of the forest had become their soundtrack, Darcy climbed to her feet. “I have one more thing, but I’m not even sure it’ll work.”

“What is it?”

“Take these,” she said, holding out two sparklers to each of them, “and put them in a circle around us. Then you’ll see.” Once they’d all gotten their sparklers stuck in the ground, Darcy brought the lighter out again, lighting both of hers before tossing the lighter to Steve. “Light them quick!” When Steve had lit his, he threw the lighter to Bucky, who did the same.

As the sparks fizzled and popped around them, Darcy made her way back to the blanket and laid on it, patting the fabric, satisfied when Bucky and Steve laid on either side of her. “Now we wait.”

Bucky turned his head, looking past Darcy to Steve, seeing a confused expression that mirrored his own. After several seconds, the sparks faded, the smell of sulphur drifting over them. “What are we waiting for?”

“Give it a few seconds,” Darcy said, chewing on her bottom lip, uncertain her plan would work.

Slowly, as silence had fallen back over them, she saw a flash of light in her peripheral vision. The grin that bloomed on Darcy’s face was bright, and she looked over at Steve, her hazel eyes shining. “Like I said, we couldn’t have fireworks, but we could have fireflies.”

Blinking at her for a second, Steve cast his gaze to the trees that surrounded the cabin. The green-yellow light of the bugs seemed to emerge from the forest on all sides. After several minutes, the entire darkness was lit up by the flashing and strobing of the fireflies. “How?”

“Apparently they mate in July and August and they flash the lights to let everyone know they’re ready to get their groove on,” Darcy said, grinning at the sight of the lights in the trees and floating on the air toward them, “I hoped the sparklers would draw them over.”

Bucky kept his face directed at the sky, the glint and shine of the bugs floating over them almost mesmerizing. They were in the middle of a ring of lights, like something out of a fairy tale, something his Ma would have told his little sister before bed. “It’s amazing.” He turned his head, seeing the serene smile on Darcy’s face, his own lips turning up.

“Wow…” Steve trailed off, unsure what to say, blown away by the thought Darcy and Bucky had put into the night. “Thank you for this,” he said, looking over at the people who’d taken a hard situation and turned it into a home.

Darcy grinned, turning on her side to face him. “Happy birthday.”

“What she said,” Bucky echoed, holding Steve’s eyes, seeing the warmth and gratefulness in his best friend’s gaze.

“But it didn’t matter much, did it?” Bucky asked, head cradled in his palm, chuckling at the look of disbelief on Steve’s face.

“I’m sure it mattered to Morita,” Steve argued, speaking about the men who’d made up their unit. They’d been ragtag and threadbare, but the 107th had become a family, fighting beside each other, brothers in arms, as close as people could get. There wasn’t a man among them that Steve wouldn’t have put his life down for.

Bucky nodded, the sounds of crickets chirping all around them. The fireflies had faded away, leaving only the light of the moon and the soft glow through the windows of the cabin. He felt Darcy shift beside him, a small noise passing her lips before she settled. “Did we bore her?”

“She’s been working hard, not to mention planning this,” Steve said, his voice low, not wanting to wake her. Her face had evened in sleep, her lips parted slightly, breaths slow and measured. There was a slight chill to the air but it didn’t appear it bothered her, but then again, she was between two warm bodies, so it made sense that she was comfortable.

“You forgot it was your birthday, didn’t you?”

Steve frowned, looking over Darcy’s shoulder, seeing the assumption lighting Bucky’s eyes. “I didn’t forget,” he said, ignoring the soft snort from the other man, “I just haven’t had a lot to celebrate.”

“Bullshit.” When Steve rose his eyebrows in surprise, Bucky leaned closer. “You never cared about yourself half as much as you did everyone else. Always making sure others were comfortable, never complaining despite having every reason to.”

“There were plenty of people who had it worse than we did, Buck. It never felt right complaining when we had it so good.”

“We had it so good because we had each other,” Bucky argued. When Steve’s eyes flicked back to him, Bucky refused to look away, holding his best friend’s gaze, knowing there was an abyss of unsaid words between him to Steve. “We still have each other.”

Feeling Bucky’s words like a guitar string thrumming in his chest, Steve looked at Darcy, his eyes tracing down the line of her face, across the swell of her bottom lip. “Some of the faces have changed.”

“You heard my Ma say it over and over, punk. ‘People come to you when you need them -”

“- and you need the people that come to you’,” Steve finished, hearing the voice of Winifred Barnes in his ears. He looked over at Bucky, uncertain why there was a lump in his throat he was forced to breathe around. Bucky was right. Steve knew exactly why he’d had it so good growing up, and one of the biggest reasons was on the other side of Darcy, a look of vulnerability on Bucky’s face.

He’d drawn Bucky so many times that he’d memorized every freckle, every dimple, every inch of skin. More than that, he’d followed those freckles down the crest of Bucky’s shoulders, let his tongue explore, knew the most sensitive bits of flesh and how the lightest brush of a finger could make Bucky shiver. They were memories he’d pushed aside after Bucky had fallen, grieving for the only man he’d every loved and the only man he ever would. He’d locked those breaths and sighs away because thinking about them hurt too much.

But now, in this place, despite the horrible situation they’d found themselves in, he could see his lover in Bucky’s eyes, the kid who’d taught him what desire was. Steve was moving so carefully, not wanting to push Bucky over an invisible line that could cause chaos, Bucky’s mental health one of his biggest worries. He didn’t want to derail the improvements he’d seen in his best friend, and if that meant Steve could look but not touch, then he would swallow his want for the other man and hold it all inside.

There were sometimes, though, when Bucky would look at him and it all came rushing back. Steve could be so consumed with it that he had to put space between them, his hands always gravitating toward Bucky like a magnet, brought together over and over again. Time itself had tried to tear them apart and failed, so if Steve had to give Bucky more time to heal, then he would wait forever.

… but forever was coming closer and closer thanks to the woman sleeping between them, and the magic spell she’d somehow cast over the cabin. In the scant two months they’d shared in her light, Darcy had healed them both, in ways Steve hadn’t even known he needed. Without thinking, his hand reached out to push one of her wild curls, tucking it behind her ear. She shifted in sleep, snuggling closer to his warmth.

“We should get her inside,” Bucky said, his heart in his throat as he watched Steve look at Darcy, the blond’s eyes filled with things Bucky felt reflected in himself. “She’s still got work tomorrow.”

Nodding, Steve knelt, slipping his arms under Darcy’s knees and around her shoulders.

“Here,” Bucky said, cradling Darcy’s head as Steve stood, brushing her dark hair out of the way as Steve adjusted her in his arms before starting toward the cabin. Gathering up the blanket and dishes, he left them on the counter then trailed after Steve, watching as the blond laid her on the bed.

Darcy curled onto her side, draping an arm across the mattress like she was reaching for something. Steve’s gaze flicked toward her feet, watching as Bucky carefully untied her shoes and pulled them off, setting them on the rug next to her bed. When she hummed in her sleep, both men looked down at her with a smile.

“Should we we set her alarm?” Steve whispered.

“Nah. Let her sleep in. What’s Stark gonna do? Fire her?” Rolling his eyes, Bucky threw one last glance at the woman on the bed before he flipped the light off, Steve pulling the door shut behind them. “I suppose you’re gonna make me do the dishes?”

“It is my birthday,” Steve said, playing up the sad tone in his voice.

“I’ve got news for you, punk,” Bucky said, glancing up at the clock on the wall, “it hasn’t been your birthday for the last fifteen minutes.”

“Leave them for the morning?”

“You wanna leave them in the sink? Looking for that doll in there to kill you the day after you turn one-hundred? It’ll be your funeral.”

Steve chuckled when Bucky reached out and gripped his shoulder, amusement in the gray of his eyes. “Seems like a nice little bit of symmetry.”

Chapter Text

“Darcy.”

“Hm?”

She didn’t look up from her book.

“Darcy?”

“Mmhmm?”

Bucky’s eyes slid to Steve, who was trying his best not to laugh at her complete obliviousness. It’d become quite clear that Darcy Lewis could get lost when she read. Lost and completely unaware of her surroundings. Other than the talking to herself and the random pantslessness, if she was really deep into the books, she’d forget to eat. Or shower. Or brush her teeth.

Other than the lack of personal hygiene, Steve found it a bit adorable.

Bucky leaned over the couch, putting his face next to hers as Steve shoved his hand into the open book. “Darcy!”

She jumped enough that her glasses slid down her nose and off one of her ears. “Son of a bitch!”

Bucky straightened as his shoulders shook with laughter, seeing Steve smile and shake his head at the edge of his vision. He watched Darcy bend the corner of the page she’d been on so she could find her place later, then throw it on the table, a little annoyed at having been interrupted.

“What could possibly be more important than reading about crisis-response units in the UN Charter?"

“Definitely not this, but we thought we’d warn you since the last time, things got a bit… tense.” Bucky watched her eyes narrow slightly, a look of suspicion on her face. “We’re going to go outside and spar. Just wanted you to know, so you didn’t start throwing people’s favorite knives around.”

He was rewarded with a glare, but he could see the corner of her mouth turn up. “I appreciate the warning, Barnes. Are you inviting me to watch?”

“Would you want to?” Steve asked, hip leaning onto the couch as his sky blue eyes gazed down at her.

“Do I want to watch two stupidly handsome men get sweaty and dirty? Why on earth would anybody want to watch that?” Darcy’s grin widened when she saw the light pink filling Steve’s cheeks. “As long as you promise not to actually hurt each other. Tony would never let me hear the end of it.” She wasn’t sure what she said, but she saw a bit of soberness flow into both of their eyes. Shit. “Yes, boys, I will watch you spar and enjoy it immensely. Lead the way.”

Darcy climbed off the couch, snagging her jacket as the three of them headed out the backdoor and off the porch. They made their way to the same place at the side of the house that she’d found them before, during the ‘knife’ incident Bucky had alluded to, and she took a seat on the soft grass.

She’d never seen anyone spar before. Darcy’s life was usually absent of any arduous physical activity. There was that one date who thought he’d take her to the indoor climbing gym, but she’d figured out very quickly that it wasn’t for her. Her center of gravity was too off balance because of her ample chest to do well in anything requiring grace.

But as she watched them face each other, barefoot and only wearing tanks and sweatpants, she was remembered there was at least one physical activity she enjoyed very much. It was harmless, really, to admit that she found both of them attractive. She thought the same about Thor. Appreciation never hurt anybody, and that’s what she told herself she was doing; simply appreciating the works of art before her.

Works of art? That’s a little overkill, she thought, but was it really? She was almost positive she’d seen paintings of men that looked like them hanging in museums, and if they were good enough to be in museums, technically that made them works of art. So, yes. Works of art. And Darcy was very very into this art style.

“You hiding any knives on you?” Steve asked, watching Bucky shake his head. He lowered his chin, knowing when Bucky was lying to him. He sighed, pointing toward Darcy. “Hand it over.”

Bucky hated being entirely weaponless, almost always having a few blades on him at any given time, but he supposed Steve was right. They would just be a few feet away, easy enough to get to if there were an attack of some kind. He reached into his sweatpants and the holster that circled his thigh, throwing Darcy a glare when she let out a catcall in his direction. Pulling the three small blades free, he walked over to her and held them out. Right as she was about to take them, he pulled them back, just out of her reach. “Do not throw these. It took me an hour to find the other one”

“Just give me the fucking knives, Barnes, jesus.”

Bucky sighed before he set them heavily into her outstretched hand, turning back to Steve with an exasperated look. His eyes narrowed at the smirk on Steve’s face. “Oh, you think that’s funny?”

“If I said no, would you believe me?”

“Not a chance in the world, punk.”

When they started circling each other, Darcy watched with rapt attention. Just as before, it looked a little bit like a dance; Bucky would take a step forward, hand swiping out, only to have Steve take a step backward and to the side, deflecting the arm and putting space between them again. After several moments of this, the anticipation of them actually hitting each other got the better of her and she cupped her hands around her mouth. “Fucking do it already!”

As if they’d been waiting for her to say something, Bucky finally committed to a move, darting forward with a burst of speed. Steve’s arm rose in advance of the attack, taking the brunt of the force and spinning, using Bucky’s momentum to push him off balance. When Bucky went down to a knee, Steve kicked him in the ass, sending him down on all fours. Bucky turned the motion, sweeping his leg, catching both of Steve’s and sending the blond to the ground. Darcy watched it all with her breath held in her chest. When Steve’s arms rose above his head and he executed a flip off his back to land on his feet again, she couldn’t stop the ‘Whoop! that sounded. She watched Bucky throw a soft glare in her direction and she gave him a small shrug of her shoulders, expression unrepentant.

They began the circling anew, but it was more tense than it had been previously, like a lion right before they pounced. When they threw themselves at each other this time, she had trouble keeping up with it all. Legs kicked out, catching knees and ribs. Fists hit everywhere. Chest. Chin. Shoulders. Both of them were starting to sweat, dirt and grass sticking to their arms and necks.

If Darcy was someone who thought in cliches, she’d have said it was poetry in motion; the way their bodies moved in tandem, the way they knew the other’s style well enough to anticipate their next move, making sure that if it did hit that they were already thinking about their next five steps.

Luckily Darcy didn’t think in cliches and only thought to herself that it was pretty fucking hot, that she’d take ten, please, and that she shoulda brought a glass of wine out with her.

She wasn’t sure how long they went on, neither of them taking complete control, matching each other perfectly, but when they they both ended up on the ground, rolling and grunting, Darcy found herself leaning forward, elbows pressed to her knees as she watched them battle for top.

Bucky turned his head when Steve’s fist connected with his cheek, the sweat making the blow glance off without causing much damage. He caught the blond’s hand in his metal one, stretching it above Steve’s head and away from where it kept trying to hit his face. He grunted when Steve’s knee connected with his ribs, which he knew were going to be sore tomorrow, slotting himself between both of Steve’s legs, making it impossible for him to use them for anything that would cause actual pain.

Steve only had one limb still free and he used it as much as he could, hammering against Bucky’s side and hip, trying to make the man flinch so he could get something else free. He wasn’t expecting for his arm to get trapped into Bucky’s side, the metal prosthetic holding it in a vice grip. Steve was truly and totally stuck, unable to move, chest heaving as he looked at the man poised above him.

Darcy’s breath was stuck in her throat, eyes wide as she looked at the boys. Steve was breathing heavy, a smudge of dirt under his right eye, blinking up at Bucky. The man on top had gone still, his face an unreadable mask, and for a moment Darcy was worried that he’d gone Soldier and that this was going to end horribly. She was completely shocked, then, when Bucky’s lips parted slightly. His gray eyes widened, his left hand releasing Steve’s, moving to hold himself above the blond by pressing his palm into the dirt at the side of Steve’s head.

She was pretty sure every living thing in the forest went silent, nothing wanting to disrupt whatever it was that was happening between the two men.

Steve’s heart was pounding in his chest, Bucky’s weight pressing down on him familiar and new, all at the same time. A flood of memories were drowning him, filling his lungs with whispered commands and half-remembered sighs. Yes. Right there. Fucking perfect. He could see the awareness in Bucky’s eyes and he wondered if the same thoughts were running through his mind as well, or if he even remembered at all. It had been so long ago and he still wasn’t sure what all Hydra had adjusted.

A bead of sweat fell from the fringe on his forehead and Bucky watched it land on Steve’s neck, rolling down the thick cord of muscle and pooling in the perfect divot at his clavicle. The muscle memory of his tongue following along Steve’s neck made his stomach clench forcefully, the sudden swell of emotion making him rise to his knees.

Pushing up on his elbows, Steve wasn’t sure what had just happened. Bucky was looking at him with wide eyes, full lips parted as he panted, and the sight alone stole the air from Steve’s lungs. Did he remember?

Oh. Ohhhh. Oh fuck! Darcy took a sharp gasp inward, grateful for the oxygen as she wasn’t sure how long she’d been holding her breath. She got it now. She got it. How she’d missed it before, she wasn’t sure. It wasn’t like it’d have been written about in either of their files, but she understood perfectly; why Steve had needed to find Bucky, why he’d gone against the other Avengers to keep Bucky safe, why they were tactile and touched each other so often.

She’d been fucking blind not to have seen it before, but now that she had, she was replaying every conversation she’d had with them. It’s not like them feeling what they felt - Gay? No. Bi? Peggy Carter and Steve, obviously, and she totally remembered Bucky saying something about taking girls out. - changed who they were in any way, it just meant she understood them better now.

And she felt like an idiot for drooling over them in the first place. When you give someone That Look, you’ve basically got a ‘No Vacancy’ sign flashing above your head in neon lights.

At some kind of cue, Bucky climbed to his feet, looking down at Steve who was still laid out in the dirt, ridiculously long eyelashes blinking upward. After a second of silence, both of the men wearing expressions that were too heavy for her to decipher, Darcy watched Bucky hold his hand out to Steve. She thought it looked like Steve was about to say something, but after opening his mouth he suddenly closed it, his jaw clenching before he let Bucky pull him to his feet. Darcy thought they held each other’s hands a little longer than necessary, but it was possible that she was overreacting to everything since she’d had her sudden revelation.

She must have made some kind of noise, prompting both men to turn their heads and look in her direction. Darcy was certain she’d gotten sunburnt by the residual heat in their gazes as they turned their attention toward her. Lamely, she gave them a soft laugh and held up the knives to Bucky. “Didn’t throw them,” she said, a vision of her literally eating her foot flashing in her mind.

“Thanks for that,” he said, padding across the grass to grab them, slapping them against his palm once or twice as he looked down at her. “I call first shower.” With that, Bucky left, never once looking back at Steve, disappearing into the house.

Darcy’s mouth was open enough to catch flies, she was sure, but Steve didn’t seem to notice, his eyes cast downward into the grass. There was an unreadable expression on his face, something bare and vulnerable, and she knew there was nothing she could say to make a difference.

She tried anyway.

“I could make us some lunch,” Darcy offered, hand lifting to shield her eyes from the sun as she smiled at him, “seeing as you both worked up an appetite.” Fucking kill me now.

Steve squinted at her, hands on his hips, toes curling into the grass. He didn’t speak, choosing instead to nod, and Darcy felt like now was not the time to push. Something had just gone down and it seemed everyone was happier not talking about it. She wasn’t going to argue, not when it looked like someone had kicked Steve Roger’s puppy.

Darcy climbed to her feet, brushing her hands on her jeans. “Sandwiches work?” He nodded again and she smiled brightly, wanting to erase some of the clouds that were darkening his eyes. “You got it, Captain. Coming right up.”

Steve stayed in the grass, chest aching from two different kinds of blows. When he was certain he’d slowed his racing heart and could hide the bare desire in his eyes, he made his way inside, hearing the sound of water slapping porcelain in the bathroom and Darcy moving around the kitchen.

He used to know Bucky’s eyes so well, knew the thoughts as they spun in his head, but now it was harder. Decades had passed, so much had happened, and he was left half-heartedly wondering if they’d already had their time, that they couldn’t go back, that what they had was in the past and it was time to move on. The thought left his shoulders sagging and his eyes downcast.

When a plate was pushed in front of him, he glanced at it, somehow pulled out of his dark thoughts at the sight. His turkey sandwich was sporting a mustard smiley face. When he looked up at Darcy, she was giving him a smile that was bright enough to chase the shadows from his mind.

“Don’t worry,” she said, nodding toward the plate, “there are at least three more of those coming. I know how much you boys can chow.”

By the time Bucky emerged from the shower, Steve was already feeling better. The four sandwiches had helped, as had the conversation that Darcy had kept up, even with minimal response from him. He stood, seeing the guarded look Bucky was giving him, hair wet and hanging around his ears. “Took you long enough, jerk. If you used all the hot water, I’m going to be pissed.”

Bucky wasn’t sure what to expect after what had just happened between the two of them, but he was glad when Steve spoke first, whatever awkwardness he’d thought would be there seemingly missing. “We lived without hot water for years, punk, you’ll be fine.”

As Steve passed him, the blond reached out and squeezed his shoulder, a gesture they’d been doing since they were kids. It settled something in Bucky’s stomach, easing the feeling of uncertainty, and he was able to give Steve a smile.

Bucky continued into the kitchen, taking a seat at the island. There were already four sandwiches sitting on a plate, the top one open and revealing a frowny face made out of mustard. He lifted his eyes to find Darcy looking at him, leaning back against the stove. She looked a bit uncertain, but when his lips turned up in a smile she matched him with one of her own. “Your art is very good.”

“I thought so.”

“What’d Steve think?”

“His were smiley faces.”

“I get the frowns?”

Darcy shrugged her shoulders gracefully in his direction. “You frown more. Plus, I knew you’d find it funny. You do, right? Find it funny?”

“You’re tops in comedy, doll.”

“Aw, stop flirting with me just because I made you lunch, Barnes, you’re embarrassing yourself.”

The grin on Bucky’s face stayed when she turned around and started cleaning up. As he bit into the sandwich, he was already feeling better.

Chapter Text

It was still before dawn when Steve opened his eyes, staring up at the ceiling as he came to full wakefulness. There were still crickets chirping outside, no doubt dew still fresh on the grass, and just the tiniest hint of orange on the horizon. He wanted to stay under the covers, warm and languid, but he'd realized early on that the routine Shuri and her team had suggested was working for Bucky, or was one of the reasons the other man had begun to heal, anyway.

Steve sat up in bed, looking around the darkened room to find the person who'd been his first thought upon waking. He frowned when the pad of blankets and pillows on the floor was empty. He hadn't heard anyone moving around on the other side of the door, and he knew it was a few hours until Darcy normally woke and headed into work, so finding Bucky missing sent a small thrum of fear through his body. Slipping from the bed, Steve pulled the door to his bedroom open and listened hard for any sounds of someone being awake, but heard none.

Padding his way into the larger room that served as their living room, dining room, and kitchen, he looked for any signs of Bucky's movements. Both the front and back doors were still locked, so he knew the other man wasn't outside, but other than that, he had no idea where Bucky had gone. Pushing down his alarm, Steve ducked his head into the bathroom, a frown on his face when he found it empty. He hesitated outside Darcy's closed bedroom door, debating whether it was a large enough worry to wake her. His mind rolled back to the day she'd come upon them sparring, shouting that he and Bucky were hers to keep safe. If Bucky had gone missing, Steve knew Darcy would want to know. He knocked softly on her door with his knuckles. "Darce?" When he heard nothing, he considered his options before knocking a bit harder, raising his voice from a whisper. "Darcy?"

As he continued to hear nothing, Steve felt worry get the best of him, and he wrapped his hand around the doorknob and pushed it open softly. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the darkness of her room. When he saw a lump on the bed, something about it looked off to him, enough that he crossed to the bed to investigate. Close enough now, he was able to see why he'd thought something was amiss. Darcy wasn't the only one in the bed, and while the person curled around her back's face was buried in the darkness of her hair, Steve would have recognized that jawline anywhere.

Steve stood next to the bed, looking down at the two of them intertwined and breaths even in sleep, and felt his worry slip away, replaced with a feeling of warmth that traveled down his spine and lifted the hair on his arms. For the longest time, Steve had felt like he was trying to save Bucky all by himself. He would never be able to pay back what King T'Challa and his family had done for the two of them, but when it came down to protecting Bucky, he'd always felt like he was on his own. Seeing Bucky wrapped around Darcy, comfortable and vulnerable and a million other things that he wasn't around anyone else, settled something in Steve's chest.

He tried to analyze the feeling that lifted the corner of his mouth into a smile, but it was elusive. Steve felt the same flutter in his stomach that he always felt when he looked at Bucky, but there was something more now, the addition of Darcy making his eyes softer, grateful for the changes he'd seen in his best friend, appreciating all the things she'd done for them since they'd arrived. She'd left her entire life on little to no information. Darcy hadn't know them, other than the trouble that hung over their heads, but she'd thrown herself fully into the muck, not afraid to get dirty, knowing the risks that surrounded the assignment.

But maybe that was it. Darcy didn't approach their time in France as an assignment. At least she didn't make it feel like that. No, since they'd arrived in France, she'd gone out of her way to make the cabin a home for the three of them. She treated them both as humans and not what the history books said they were. She had a connection to their world, her friendship with Thor putting her on the radar in the first place, but she hadn't let that intimidate her. Sure, she'd make jokes from time to time and call them names, but it was always done in a warm way, never antagonizing, and the fact that she was willing to build something with them, despite the darker parts of their past, showed her shining character.

When Darcy smiled, he found that happiness reflected in himself, and more importantly, Steve saw it reflected in Bucky, and that meant more to him than he'd ever be able to put into words.

The mass of their hair, tangled together and dark enough to drown in, shifted on the bed, and Steve watched Bucky snuggle further into Darcy's back, his arm pulling her tighter against him. Memories of the apartment they'd shared in Brooklyn lit into Steve's mind and he recalled, vividly, what it felt like to have Bucky curled around him, skin like a heater, his breath warming the back of Steve's neck. The memory was so sharp, so real, that Steve’s stomach ached for it, taking in a deep breath as the emotion crashed inside. He started for the door then froze when a floorboard beneath his feet groaned, blue eyes flicking toward the bed and its two inhabitants, silently praying that he hadn't woke them.

"Steve?"

Kicking himself, Steve walked carefully around the bed, giving Darcy a sheepish smile when he knelt next to her side of the bed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"Wha'times it?"

"Still early," he whispered, surprised when Bucky didn't move, his body like a statue on the other side of Darcy. "Just couldn't find him when I woke up."

"He had a nightmare," Darcy mumbled. "Didn't want to wake you."

"He's done this before?"

"Couple a nights now," she answered, watching the surprise light in Steve's eyes. "It's getting better."

Steve had known Bucky was having nightmares, but wasn't sure how he'd missed noticing how often, even more disappointed that he hadn't realized Bucky coming in and out of the room for his benefit. "He could have said something."

"Nah," Darcy whispered, the warm haze of sleep still wrapped around her like the man at her back. She reached out with her hand, scratching at Steve's cheeks and the beard that covered them. "I'm like Switzerland."

Feeling warmth flush to his skin at her touch, Steve gave her a confused head tilt. "Switzerland?"

"I'm neutral, you know? No baggage. Easier for him to come to me."

Steve's face fell at her words. "He could have told me he was having problems."

Darcy's hand reached out, fingers trailing down Steve's arm, trying to erase the frown on his face. "Oh, honey, I know, but it might just take him a little longer. His eyes are always looking for you. He wants you to see how strong he's gotten. Doesn't want you to see the cracks."

"Seems you're helping smooth the cracks away," Steve said, smiling when she blinked at him, sleep making the movements slow, her dark eyelashes brushing against her cheeks softly. "You sure you're okay with this?"

"Am I okay with a hot ass hunk of man sharing my bed because I help chase the nightmares away? Uh, yeah. I'm okay with it." When he grinned at her, a smaller, sleepier smile of her own lifted her lips. "We can wake -"

"No, no," Steve said with a shake of his head, reaching out to tug the blanket farther up their shoulders, "you guys sleep."

"Mmmmm, sleep," Darcy hummed, nodding at him softly before she snuggled back against her pillow, Bucky's arm tightening around her stomach.

Steve stood, his gaze lingering on Darcy's peaceful expression before he let himself out of her room, pulling the door shut behind him. He stood there in the hallway, trying to decide how he felt about everything he'd just heard. Slowly, a smile climbed onto his lips, and Steve shook his head, marveling at the changes they'd experienced over the past few months. Deciding it was too early to make breakfast, he made his way into the living room, grabbing his sketch pad off the window seat, his fingers itching to recreate the vision of Darcy with Bucky curled around her.

Darcy was pulling her laptop and notes from her bag when the familiar ‘ding ding’ signaled Tony was calling in. She waved her hand over the device dismissively, already speaking when she saw the flash of blue out of the corner of her eye. “I went over the amendments we spoke abou -”

“Darcy!”

Eyes widening, Darcy’s head snapped up when it wasn’t Tony’s voice she heard, but Jane Foster’s. “Janey?” She’d actually taken a step toward her best friend, intent to pull her into a giant hug, before she remembered Jane wasn’t actually there and was just a hologram. “What are you doing!?”

“Lewis, hello, yeah, that’s a good question.” Tony walked into frame, arms crossed over his chest as he gave Darcy his best ‘disapproving’ look. “When I said to tell no one where you were going, did you think it was just a suggestion?”

“I didn’t tell her where I was going. I told her that if she needed to get a hold of me, to find you! I didn’t think she really would!” When Tony rolled his eyes and disappeared from view, Darcy directed a large grin toward her former boss. “How the hell did you track down Tony Stark?”

“An algorithm,” Jane said with a shrug of her shoulders, matching the brightness of Darcy’s grin with one of her own. “When I hadn’t heard from you in so long I got worried.”

Darcy pointed to the ground, crossing her legs and taking a seat, the image of Jane doing the same. “Yeah, we’ve gone really low tech out here in -”

“What did I just say?!”

“Out here in the woods only narrows it down to six of the seven continents, jackass, so I think we’re safe. Would you mind giving us at least the illusion of privacy?” Darcy watched as Jane looked up, eyes no doubt following as Tony stalked from the room.

“You just told Tony Stark to fuck off,” Jane said in a shocked whisper, brown eyes widening as she turned back to Darcy, the echo of a door shutting coming through the speaker..

“He’s used to it. Whatever. You! How are you?”

“I can’t complain. Thor’s in the other room. We just got back from Asgard.”

Darcy’s chin dropped, watching as Jane’s cheeks blushed a pretty shade of pink. “I’m so jealous! One of these days he’ll believe me when I tell him it’s my turn.”

Jane nodded emphatically. “Yes. I told him the same thing, that I needed to be able to share it with someone who wasn’t from there. Everything there… Darce, you have no idea. It’s out of this world.”

“Technically it’s out of this realm,” Darcy said, holding a hand up toward the hologram. She laughed when Jane did the same on her side, the closest they’d be able to high-five each other in the current situation. “See? I listen.”

“I know that, and I listen. I might not know where you are, but I know who you’re with,” Jane said, cocking her head to the side. “Did you sign up for it or something?”

“I actually have you to thank for it, in a roundabout way.” At Jane’s confused head tilt, Darcy waved her hand in the air. “New Mexico put my name in a file with S.H.I.E.L.D. so I was on the radar. And apparently my lack of tact when talking about the Accords struck a nerve with Rusting Oxide Man and he decided I was the right gal for the job.”

“And that job is hiding with Captain America?”

“Among other things.” She could practically see the worry lines forming on Jane’s face. “Stop it, Janey. I’m fine.”

“Are you? Is it safe? I’ve read the news. I know what’s going on. There’s talk of countries sending out their own teams to find Captain America and his friend.”

Darcy picked at the hole near the knee of her jeans. She’d read as much in the newspaper, one of the only avenues for news she had anymore, but she was confident Tony had hidden them well enough that they weren’t in any real danger. She was putting a lot of faith in a man who months ago made her see red, but Darcy was aware how hard he was working on all of it. She needed to, grudgingly and while heaving a deep and heavy sigh, give credit where it was due.

“Steve and Bucky… I’m safe. I trust them.” She could tell that ringing endorsement hadn’t been enough to allay the fears Jane had, but it was true. Darcy trusted them, both of them. When that had happened over the past few weeks, she wasn’t sure. She’d think about that later.

“I wish we could come see you.”

Darcy smiled, hazel eyes flicking up see Jane looking at her, honest and genuine and the best friend she’d ever had. “Me too. Maybe when -”

“Are you speaking with Lady Darcy?”

Darcy laughed when a pair of jacked legs blocked her view of Jane. “Down here, big guy.” She kept laughing as Jane tried to position Thor so they could both be seen. Eventually he ended up on the floor next to Jane, taking up the majority of the space, hands resting on his knees. “I hear you’ve been travelling without me again,” Darcy chastised, clicking her tongue at him.

“My apologies. Things in Asgard are… complicated.”

“Mmmhmmm. Things aren’t that great here either.”

“Yes. Tony has told of how you are helping us. I agreed you would make a very successful addition to the team, especially as Jane has told me of your additional fields of study. There is no higher calling than the pursuit of justice.”

Darcy rolled her eyes at the Norse god, lips turning up into a smile. She’d never heard studying law put that particular way, but she supposed he wasn’t wrong. Darcy Lewis: Pursuer of Justice. “So Tony said, which means I have you to blame along with Jane.”

She watched Thor’s eyebrows lower, his eyes losing a bit of the jovial tint they were usually lit with. “Have I done something that has burdened you?”

“No, Hammertime, you’re fine. Things are just… tense.”

“In what way?” Jane had sat up a little straighter at the hesitance in Darcy’s voice. For being so oblivious of herself, the scientist was unusually adept at knowing when the people she cared for were troubled.

“There are feelings in the tiny house that are being ignored and it’s annoying as hell.”

Thor’s head cocked to the side in the cutest way, like a giant golden retriever hearing something in the distance. It brought a smile to Darcy’s face. “Feelings?”

Darcy sighed, her elbow pressing to her knee as she rested her chin in her palm. “You know how you can watch two people, and you can tell there are words they need to say to each other but aren’t, and it gets really awkward because there’s just this fog of pent up sexual tension hanging all over, thick enough to cut with a butter knife?” She looked up from the floor and saw both Thor and Jane sporting the same confused expressions on their faces.

She could practically see the wheels turning in Jane’s head as she analyzed the problem. “Did you… with Steve or -”

The laughter that broke free from Darcy’s chest was high-pitched and sudden. “Oh, no. No no no. Not me and them. Well, there was that one time that I almost kissed one of them, which I’m so glad I didn’t, because now it’s clear they are a them and I would have just been embarrassing myself. But no, no, it’s them.”

She watched the realization spark in Jane’s brain. “Oh!”

“Yeah.”

“They?”

“Them.”

“Oh!”

“I feel like I may be missing something,” Thor said, looking between Jane and Darcy with a furrowed brow. Darcy watched Jane tug on Thor’s arm, pulling the blond’s ear closer to her so she could whisper in it. Darcy couldn’t help the soft chuckle as Thor’s eyes widened before he pulled back. “You mean they share a heart?”

Darcy’d never heard it put in that way, but it was a pretty and she found herself liking the idea of it. “Well, they did, so far as I can tell. And do. But not, because they just look at each other. I can’t believe it took me so long to see it, but yeah. They share a heart.”

Thor nodded. “They are warriors that have fought side by side. That forms a bond not even Mjolnir could break.”

“Well myuh-myuh would most definitely have trouble breaking through this tension, trust me. Unless you think hitting one of them with her would knock some sense into them? Nah. Too violent. There’s got to be something, though. If they didn’t have super soldier serum pumping through their veins, I’d suggest getting them hammered. You know how people tend to talk when they’re full of pineapple juice and rum. Right, Janey?”

She grinned when Jane’s eyes narrowed slightly at her. Jane was content not to explain to Thor that bit of history, so Darcy didn’t push the issue.

“Have you tried talking to them about it?”

Another bark of laughter broke free from Darcy. “Ha! Right. Because that conversation would go so well. ‘Hey, so I know you’re both dealing with a bunch of stuff right now, but maybe you could bone and get it over with so I don’t have to see you shooting puppy eyes back and forth at each other?’ Mmmhmmm. Yeah. I’ll pass.”

“Well, maybe not using those words…”

Darcy sighed, shrugging her shoulders. “It’s fine. It’s not my place, right? I should just shut up about it. Let them figure it out. Right? Right.” She could see the look Jane was giving her, but chose to ignore it. She knew how to not meddle. Okay, well, she knew that she shouldn’t meddle. She was still working on the actual not meddling part. “Forget I said anything.”

“Like how you said you almost kissed one of them?” Leave it to Jane Foster to focus on the least important aspect of the whole conversation. “Which one?”

“I should… I will seek out Tony, see if he has need of me. It was nice to see you, Lady Darcy. I hope we can see each other soon.”

“Yeah, because you owe me a trip to Asgard, blondie! Don’t pretend like I’ll forget!” She laughed when he nodded and gave her a small wave before climbing to his feet and disappearing at the edge of the hologram. She turned back to Jane, gaze sharp. “Seriously. Asgard. I need to go to there. I need to go to there badly.”

“Maybe when you’re done with your ‘assignment’,” Jane said with a small smile. The smile turned more devious as she leaned forward, voice coming out in a conspiratorial whisper. “Now answer my question: which one did you almost kiss?”

Darcy rolled her eyes at Jane, then promptly told her best friend everything she could remember.

Chapter Text

"I'd like you to play Scrabble with me."

Darcy blinked up at Bucky, an ancient board game box held in his hands, his voice pricking at her memory as she tried to place it. When she remembered it from the book she'd been reading to him when neither of them could get to sleep, she gave him a sharp nod. "Okay. Though, I think you should know that you've underestimated my prowess when it comes to Scrabble know-how."

"You're not the only one with access to Webster's dictionary, doll," Bucky said when Darcy rose to her feet, taking the box from his hands and crossing toward the coffee table. He mirrored her, crossing his legs and taking a seat across from her on the floor.

Darcy dumped the contents of the box on the table, grabbing a letter tray for herself and throwing another to Bucky. "You mean they had dictionaries back in the good ol' days?"

Bucky glared softly in her direction. "Do you actually know how old we are?"

"Uh, did I recently plan a 100-year-old birthday party for the hot blond we share a home with? Yes, I know how old you are. I just didn't know when Webster's first dictionary was published, and since this is not Trivial Pursuit, it doesn't fucking matter, does it?" When Bucky rolled his eyes at her, Darcy gathered all the letter tiles and tossed them in the bag, which looked like it was three seconds away from falling apart. She drew out her tiles and passed the bag to him. "You go first."

Bucky took a long moment, scrutinizing his tiles and the board. Finally, after several heaved sighs from Darcy, he placed three of his tiles and sat back.

Darcy's eyes squinted as she leaned forward. "'Dom'? That's not a word."

"Yes it is."

"No, 'dom' is a suffix."

"It means house!"

"That'd be the word 'domicile,' my good dude."

"No, it's..." Bucky trailed off before he frowned. "It means 'house' in Russian."

Darcy's brows lifted toward her hairline, a small laugh shaking her shoulders. "Look, I only speak two languages: English and bad English. There will be no Russian or fancy-pants Romanian or whatever else you've got knocking around inside that handsome head of yours, you got it?" When he raised an eyebrow at her, Darcy leaned forward, an expression of competitiveness falling into place. "Well what do we have here? Finally! Something I can kick your ass in!"

"A little over-confident, aren't you?"

"Oh ho ho," Darcy said with a pointed finger in his direction, her eyes flashing, "you want to make this interesting?"

"Interesting how?"

"If I win, you're on dusting duty for a week and you let me trim your hair again."

Bucky seemed to consider the proposition, looking at her with an interested expression. "And if I win?"

Darcy leaned forward and waggled her eyebrows in his direction. "What do you want from me, Barnes?"

"I want to teach you how to throw knives."

The surprise on her face was thick, and Darcy sat back against the couch, hazel eyes wide. That was definitely not one of things she’d expected him to say. "Whathowssthatnow?"

Bucky shrugged his shoulders. "Knives. When you threw that one of mine into the woods your form was horrible. You should know how to throw one. Just in case."

"In case of what?" Darcy asked, certain she was looking at him like he was a crazy person.

Just like Steve, not seeing the usefulness in preparation. "In case you're ever in a situation where you need to protect yourself and the only thing you've got on you is a knife."

Darcy shook her head forlornly. "This scrabble game just went to a really weird, dark place."

Bucky crossed his arms and leaned onto the table. "When you get us home, you're going to be working with powerful people, and not just the supers whose cases you take on. There are a lot of bad people in this world, and you should know how to protect yourself."

"I took down the god of lightning and thunder, in case you forgot, and my tase --Holy Fuck!" The loud clap of thunder from outside make Darcy jump, clapping her hands over her mouth. Praying that Thor hadn't just heard her and was about to rain terror down on their little cabin, she looked at Bucky with widen eyes. She opened her mouth to laugh when the back door was thrown open, a soaking wet Steve skidding into the cabin as lightning flashed behind him. His sudden arrival caused another scream to rip free from Darcy's chest.

Steve shook the rain from his hair then wiped the water from his eyes, an ax held in the grip of his left hand. Both Bucky and Darcy were looking at him in surprise as he dripped on the hardwood. "I was clearing the rotted tree on the property line and the storm came out of nowhere."

When Bucky pushed past the mind-blanking lust he felt at the sight of Steve in a soaking wet white t-shirt and sweatpants, he pointed in Darcy's direction. "Blame her."

The sound of offense that tore from Darcy's throat was heartfelt. "How is this my fault? I can't control the weather!"

"Maybe you shouldn't have angered the god of lightning and thunder, then," Bucky said, lips curling into a smirk when her eyes narrowed at him.

Darcy grabbed a pillow off the couch and tossed it at Bucky's face as she climbed to her feet. "I'll grab you a towel," she said to Steve.

Following Darcy with his eyes until she disappeared down the hall, Steve looked back at Bucky, surprised to find the other man staring at him. Bucky's gaze wasn't focused on his face, however, but further south. Steve glanced down at his wet clothes then back up, locking eyes with Bucky, warmth flushing to his cheeks at the expression on Bucky's face. He recognized that look because he'd sported the same one while staring at Bucky when he knew his best friend couldn't see it.

The gray of Bucky's eyes held something like hunger, but it was more than that, deeper than just desire. There were memories there, of skin sliding over skin and whispered words in the dark of their apartment, as well as uncertainty, the worry that they'd never get to relive those moments, that they'd come to an end without either of them knowing that it'd be the last time.

When Darcy made her way back to them, a towel draped over her shoulder, she felt the hairs on her arms lift, her steps faltering when the wave of sexual tension hit her. Bucky and Steve were staring at each other, somehow filling the entire cabin with a kind of pressure. It felt like her ears needed to pop, the air somehow charged and weighted, and she held her breath as she watched them, not wanting to move, not wanting to burst whatever was going on between the two of them.

The conversation she'd had with Jane just a few days prior rewound in Darcy's head.

"I mean, the history books never outright said anything about the two of them, you know what'ing, but it's pretty fucking obvious when you see them dancing around each other."

"Some people take longer to make a move," Jane said with a shrug.

"Says the woman who made out with and fell in love with a god after only a few days."

"I never said I took a long time."

"Touche," Darcy said with a grin, sighing and lifting her hands over her head, stretching her back, hearing it pop in several places. While she was happy to help Bucky get some sleep by sharing her bed, having him curled so tightly around her was really messing with her lower back. "Something's keeping them from just doing it already."

"Barnes has been through a lot. Maybe Steve's scared to spook him."

"Maybe," Darcy said with a frown.

When Darcy's eyes widened, her spine straightening, Jane gave a little groan, her head shaking. "Oh no. No no no, Darcy, you can't get in the middle of -"

"I'm already in the middle, Janey! It's like they're torturing themselves for no reason! It might not be the reason I came out here, but it's close, right? I'm here to protect them!"

"How would meddling in their love lives be protecting them?"

"Uhhhhh," Darcy's mind worked quickly, trying to invent a reason why pushing the boys a little bit would be a good thing. She snapped her fingers and pointed at the hologram rendering of her best friend. "Blue balls! They've got over seventy-five years worth of blue balls! I'd be doing the right thing facilitating them getting down!"

Jane's tongue clicked in her mouth as she shook her head. "Darcy!"

Darcy mimicked the disappointing tone in Jane's voice. "Jane!"

"How the hell would you 'facilitate' them getting together?"

"I don't know," Darcy said, throwing her hands in the air, the fire of a mission burning in her gut, "but I can't wait for them to come to their senses on their own!"

"That is exactly what you should do!"

"Nope," Darcy said, popping the 'p', "it's in my head now. Can't go back. If only I could get them a little tipsy, take down their guard a bit, nudge them together..."

Jane put her chin in her hand, sighing as she watched analytical fire in Darcy's hazel gaze. "This could backfire on you. Just like things with Ian did."

Darcy looked up sharply, eyes narrowed at her best friend. "I thought we agreed not to bring that up again. Ever."

"Just... don't push too hard. If they're not ready, then they're not ready." When Darcy didn't respond, Jane leaned forward. "Darcy!"

"Yeah, yeah," Darcy said with a wave of her hand. "I know. I hear you. I'll be subtle."

The look on Steve and Bucky's faces as they stared at each other was anything but subtle, and Darcy felt a shiver flow up her spine. Her eyes tracked down Steve's body, the white t-shirt he wore clinging to everything in the best ways possible. Bucky wasn't the only one who could appreciate the way water was cascading down Steve's neck, and Darcy looked her fill before clearing her throat and popping the bubble of tension that had descended over them. "You're dripping everywhere."

"Sorry," Steve said, tearing his eyes from Bucky and looking toward Darcy.

"You should strip."

"What?"

The word had fallen from both Steve and Bucky's lips in unison, but in various stages of alarm, and Darcy rolled her eyes, snapping the towel in Steve's direction. "You can't walk through the cabin with those clothes on. Take off your pants and shirt and I'll throw them in the dryer."

Steve blinked at Darcy, his cheeks filling with pink anew. "I can't."

Darcy's face scrunched up. "Why?"

"I'm not wearing anything under the sweatpants," Steve finally managed, pointedly not looking in Bucky's direction, but feeling his best friend's eyes on him regardless.

"Well then! Someone alert the papers!" Darcy’s joke had its desired effect, some of the tension in the room bleeding away. Steve's shoulders shook as he looked down at his feet, blue eyes flicking up, blinking those ridiculously long lashes at her. "Your secret is safe with us, right Buck?"

"I've got no one else to tell but you two," Bucky said, a smirk on his face when he watched Steve blush further. It had always been amusing how polite Steve was in public, sheepish and bashful, but the mouth on him when he had you alone was filthy and amazing. Bucky remembered what it felt like to have Steve whisper in his ear, sex dripping from his lips, wanting to hear how much you appreciated his work, and the tactile memory was enough to send a shiver through his body.

"It's fine. We did this at camp all the time. I'll close my eyes, hold the towel up, and you can strip while keeping your innocence in tact, that sound good?" When he gave her a nod, Darcy lifted the towel, blocking her and Bucky's view of him.

"You went to camp?"

"I did. Girl Scout camp." When she heard Bucky's laugh behind her, Darcy glared at him over her shoulder. "What?"

"Just didn't peg you as a girl scout," Bucky answered, watching her eyes narrow in his direction. Since he'd learned that she was fine with verbal sparring, he'd found himself doing it to get a rise out of her, enjoying the way she bit back at him.

"Well, I was. I still have my sash somewhere in storage. When we'd go through the woods on hikes, they'd make us strip before we went into the cabins, not wanting us to bring bugs and what not inside. We might have all been girls but shyness knows no gender boundaries. So you're not alone, Rogers, there were plenty of girl scouts just like you. They're seven and eight years old, but they're out there."

"You know what, Lewis?" Steve grabbed the towel from her hands, wrapping it around his waist. He laughed when Darcy covered her eyes with her hand, fingers splitting so she could peek through at him. "Some people get uncomfortable while not wearing pants in front of others."

"How sad for those people," Darcy said as she dropped her arm, reaching out for the wet clothing in Steve's hands. "At least I wear underwear. Most of the time. Some of the time." The grin on Steve's face was all she'd been looking for, and she gave him an appreciative look from toes to tip. "How about you dry off and you can watch me handedly kick Bucky's ass in Scrabble, unless you'd like to join and get your ass kicked, too?"

"Those are too high of stakes for me," he ignored the disbelieving snort from Bucky, "but I'll watch you kick his ass." Both he and Darcy laughed at Bucky's shout of 'hey!'

"You know," Darcy said, finger tapping against her chin as she stared at the board, "I think we're missing some letters."

"What do you mean?"

Darcy glanced over her shoulder at Steve, who'd sat on the couch behind her so he could see her tiles and feed her words in 'secret' (though they both knew Bucky had been onto them from the beginning). "There are no P's."

"Or K's," Bucky said, "but you don't see me complaining. Just makes things a little more challenging."

"Really? I'm in the process of murdering you. Not sure you should be looking for more ways to lose."

"I'm just biding my time."

Darcy snorted and shook her head. "Steve, was he always this good at bullshitting, or is something that came with the serum?"

Steve laughed, pulling his pencil away from his sketchpad so he didn't ruin what he was currently working on. "Oh no, that's all him. He was known for it back in Brooklyn."

"Well, I heard you weren't much better," Darcy said, leaning back against the couch, blinking up at Steve’s upside-down face, grinning when he reached out to brush a piece of hair off her forehead.

"He tried, but he was so small that no one bought it." Bucky watched Steve's eyes flick over to him, a grin curling his lips.

"Your Ma bought it." At Darcy's loud bark of laughter, Steve's eyebrows lifted. "What? It's true."

Darcy held a hand to her chest, wheezing as she laughed. "Oh, god. Captain America just laid down an organic 'your mama' joke. I’m going to die. Bury me here and put that on my gravestone."

Her laughter was infectious and soon enough Steve and Bucky had joined her, though Steve was still mystified as to why she'd found that so funny. "I told his Ma that my doctors said I needed more sugar for energy, so she gave me more cookies whenever I stayed over."

"I've got news for you, punk, no one could pull the wool over Ma's eyes, not even you and that angelic face. She gave you those cookies because she liked you being a bit more mischievous."

When Darcy's head fell back to look at Steve, she saw his face fall, as if something he'd been sure of had been stolen. "Oh, Steve, it's okay, I still think you're sneaky." Her hand reached out and squeezed his foot. In an instant, Steve had wrenched his leg from her grasp, a strangled sound passing his lips. It startled Darcy enough that she froze, her jaw dropping in surprise, eyes wide as she stared at him. "What the fuck was that?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing? That wasn't nothing, Rogers. You moved like I'd burned you. Are you..." Darcy sat up a little straighter, her hazel eyes shining. "Are you ticklish?" She watched Bucky's eyes widen as he stared at Steve as well.

Steve shifted on the couch, wiggling under the weight of their stares. "I had nerve damage growing up so I never really felt much of anything other than pain," he said with a frown. "And since then, no one's..."

Darcy's eyes grew impossibly wider. "Wait wait wait. Are you saying that no one's touched your feet since you came out of that tin can?" When Steve gave her a nod, Darcy pulled herself from the floor and sat carefully next to him on the couch. "Please tell me you're joking."

"I've been a bit too busy to schedule in a foot massage, Darce,” Steve said with a frown, not certain he liked the way her eyes seemed lit from within. “And since I'm ticklish, I don't see how I'd enjoy it, anyway."

A plethora of thoughts rumbled through Darcy's mind, mostly hearing Bohemian Rhapsody’s Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? and equating this moment to something out of one of those Harlequin romances Aunt Deb always read. "Steve, Steve, I am so sorry. I can assure you that you can still enjoy a foot massage even if you're ticklish.” She glanced over at Bucky, watching him blink at Steve, an unreadable expression on his face. “What?”

Bucky shifted under her gaze, eyes flicking from Steve then back to her. “His feet were always like blocks of ice, even under the covers. I had to rub them to get the blood flowing.”

“So you have experience with his feet,” Darcy said with a nod in Steve’s direction, “so get over here and show him what a good foot massage feels like.”

Steve saw the hesitance in Bucky’s face and shook his head. “It’s fine, he doesn’t have to do anything if -”

“I do. I will.” Steve looked at him, and Bucky did the best to guard his eyes, to make his face pleasant and nothing else. Like it had never truly left, Bucky felt the tension build in the cabin again, a novel passing between him and Steve as they stared.

The burn of sexual tension lit across Darcy’s skin, and being so close to the two men made goosebumps rise on her arms, and she felt her stomach flip as the possibilities ran through her mind. She’d never considered herself a wing man before, but here she was, doing her best to ease these two stubborn men toward what she knew they both wanted. Telling herself that failure was not an option, and convincing herself that embarrassment would fade in time, Darcy patted her lap. “Foot up, Rogers. I’ll take the right, Buck can take the left.”

Steve watched Bucky round the table and their abandoned Scrabble game, heart speeding at the look on his best friends face. He wasn’t exactly sure when the day had morphed into something different, perhaps when the sky had opened up, but he could feel his stomach tighten in anticipation, lips parting as his gaze moved from Bucky to Darcy, a look of quiet expectation on the woman’s face.

Rolling her eyes, Darcy reached out and tapped Steve’s calf, satisfied when he lifted his leg and placed his foot in her lap. She waited until Bucky was sitting beside the couch, his hands pulling Steve’s ankle toward him, settling himself before he glanced in her direction. “Okay, so we just have to get past the ticklish part and you’ll be fine.”

“This something else you learned at girl scout camp?”

“You’d be amazed just how much I learned during that week,” Darcy said with a smirk at Steve, “but no. I had issues freshman year with anxiety. My muscles would tense up so bad it felt like torture.” Using the distraction of her story, Darcy wrapped her hands around Steve’s foot, feeling the heat of his skin beneath her fingers. “I would spasm, and cry, and the only thing that would help was rubbing them. For a while, I considered dropping out.”

Bucky felt Steve squirm when his other foot was grabbed as well, blue eyes swinging, a breath passing his lips. As Darcy continued with her story, somehow making the change in focus seem organic, Bucky focused on Steve’s feet, memories of doing this when they were younger tightening his chest.

Steve sucked in a deep breath, pushing past the uncomfortable feeling at having two sets of hands on him, waiting for the moment it became too much, waiting for his body to reject what was happening. Darcy continued talking and Steve’s gaze flicked to her, watching her hands move, using her voice as an anchor. “But you stayed.”

“I did,” Darcy said, using both hands, her thumbs pressing to the balls of his feet and rubbing outward, repositioning before doing it again. “Midterms had been horrible and I didn’t know what was wrong. I’d always been independent, but this was the first time I’d found myself truly on my own. I didn’t know who I was.”

When Bucky squeezed his heel, Steve exhaled, wiggling back against the couch, his best friend’s eyes pinning him, watching his reaction. Steve nodded at him, signaling that he was fine to keep going.

“What’d you do?” Bucky asked, watching Darcy’s hands move against Steve’s skin with practiced motions.

“Over Thanksgiving break, I just... left. Didn’t tell anyone I was leaving, didn’t tell anyone where I was going. I needed to get away, to clear my head. I asked myself the hard questions. What did I want to do with my life? Who did I want to be? I had absolutely no idea, and I realized I wouldn’t feel right until I found out. So I signed up for everything. I took a Judo class, an art class, computer programming. Other than learning a few hacking tricks that helped me out later, nothing seemed to stick. Then it was Spanish, and statistics. Art history. Drama. I took a class on archeology and dinosaurs. Religious studies. I figured a political science degree was a good route since it was a stepping stone to so much more.”

“And then you signed up for Foster’s intern position.”

“Yup,” Darcy hummed, grinning at Steve as he seemed to relax, some of the tension draining from his shoulders. “I knew absolutely nothing about astrophysics, but I fit the requirements and decided ‘what the hell?’. It was a good choice, obviously, because I met Janey and Erik.”

“And then Thor,” Bucky said, smiling when she glanced in his direction.

“Mmmhmm, and everything that went along with him. Giant death-ray metal machines and magic hammers, trickster gods and evil elves. Oh, and the apocalypses! I’d never thought I’d need to know the plural form of apocalypse, but there I was, faced with another one. After New York, I started reading news stories that said the people who’d saved us should be held responsible for what happened and bam, it all clicked.”

Steve’s eyes fluttered, the warmth of their hands and the way they moved over his skin slowing his heart rate, relaxing under their attention. “I can’t imagine it.”

Darcy snorted. “Which part?”

“The part where you don’t know who you are,” Bucky supplied, watching Steve’s lips lift, eyes closed and face smoothing.

“Is that a compliment or a complaint?”

Steve’s eyes opened, the look on Darcy’s face making him frown. “Why would that be a complaint?”

“You’d be surprised,” Darcy answered with a sigh, running her knuckles up the arch of his foot, giving it just a little more pressure. “I’ve been called pushy. Self-assured. Brash. Loud. Intense. Rude. Oh! Or my favorite of all time: Bossy.”

“So you’re confident and honest,” Bucky said, Darcy’s eyes swinging toward him, hands moving over Steve’s foot on muscle memory.

“Powerful and passionate,” Steve said, echoing Bucky’s thoughts, watching when his words forced Darcy’s eyes toward him.

“Caring.”

“A leader.”

“Fearless.”

As the words fell from their lips, Darcy couldn’t hold their eyes any longer, her gaze landing on Steve’s foot, hands restarting their travel over his skin. “Girls didn’t get called those things when I grew up. Pretty sure they weren’t called that when you grew up either.”

“One of the best women I’ve ever met was all those things,” Steve said, feeling Darcy’s hands pause. “She was passionate, and confident, and she knew exactly who she was and what she could do. She demanded respect because she knew she deserved it. She earned it, and so have you.”

The self-deprecating laugh made Darcy shake her head. “I am no Peggy Carter, Steve.”

“No you’re not,” Steve agreed with a nod, watching her tongue swipe over her bottom lip, “because you’re Darcy Lewis, and being Darcy Lewis is all you need to be.”

“More than we deserve,” Bucky said, smiling at her when she glanced his way.

Rolling her eyes, ridding them of the tears that had begun to pool, Darcy squeezed Steve’s foot hard, patting it before leaving it on her lap. “Fuck, you men sure know how to make a girl feel better about herself.”

“Only giving credit where credit is due.” Bucky followed Darcy’s lead, letting Steve’s foot fall from his grasp with a final squeeze, feeling the other man’s gaze on him as he turned back to the coffee table and the board game on it.

Darcy noted the way Steve’s eyes lingered on Bucky, feeling a stab of victory in her chest. Her pushing hadn’t been much, but it’d been enough, and since subtle was her goal, she felt like she’d knocked it out of the park. Random skin-to-skin contact? Perfect. “Well, Red, White, and Hot, what did you think of your first foot massage? Everything you thought it wouldn’t be?”

Steve chuckled, lips curling up. “It was pretty great,” he agreed, “but the company was even better.”

The groan that made its way from Darcy’s throat was echoed by Bucky, and Darcy pushed Steve’s foot from her lap. “Jesus, Rogers, who knew you could be such a sap?”

Darcy’s eyes shining in his direction erased the sting from her words, and Steve found himself smiling at her, feeling more at ease than he had in a long time. Another spell of peace because of the woman beside him. “I’ll start dinner so you can finish your game.”

“It’s a lost cause,” Darcy said with a sad shake of her head, slipping from the couch and back to the floor. “He’s doomed. Prepare to become the dust buster, Buck, because you’re gonna lose real bad.”

Bucky held Darcy’s gaze, watching the light behind her eyes and the smirk on her face, trying to remember the last time someone had helped him like she had. “Maybe I did underestimate you,” he mused, uncertain if he was talking about their game of Scrabble or something else altogether.

“Oh, don’t be sad,” Darcy said, laying down several tiles and hitting a triple word score. “I’ll still let you teach me how to use a knife.”

“What’s that?” Steve asked, looking over at them from the fridge, his eyes wide. “Knife? You’re going to teach her -”

“How to protect myself from the big bads!” Darcy raised her fists in the air, making a few punch-like motions, grinning brilliantly when both men laughed.

As Steve began cutting vegetables, he glanced over at Darcy and Bucky, watching their back and forth, smiling when Darcy threw one of her letter tiles at Bucky when the other man made a bad joke. “Hey, Darce?”

Darcy glanced over at Steve, laughter still shaking her shoulders. “Yeah?”

“Are you ticklish anywhere?”

Bucky went still in her peripheral vision, like he was very interested in her answer as well. “Nope.”

“Really?”

“Yep. I’m un-ticklish everywhere.”

“No offense, but that sounds like bullshit.”

Darcy glared at Bucky. “You calling me a liar, Barnes?”

“Just calling it like I see it, doll,” Bucky said with an innocent shrug of his shoulders.

“Don’t ‘doll’ me,” she said with narrowed eyes, “I’m not ticklish.”

“Sounds like there’s a big ‘but’ there,” Steve said, eyebrows lifting when he looked over at him.

“He calls me a liar and you say I have a big butt. Why do you subject me to such hardship?”

“Not telling us is just going to make it worse,” Bucky warned, raising an eyebrow when she leaned on the table with her elbow, cradling her chin in her hand. “It’s not like we have a lot of other things to spend our time on.”

“A girl’s gotta have her secrets.”

“Fine, Darce, you stay mum. See what it gets you.”

“Was that a threat, Rogers?”

“Did you take it as one?”

“Bucky, let’s start the blade training now. I’ve just found my first target.”

Chapter Text

It was still dark out. The trees were quiet, the sound of crickets chirping in the pre-dawn air echoing all around him. Bucky’d woken from a dream, a memory, something sweet and familiar and like nothing he deserved anymore. He hadn’t even tried to fall back asleep, accepting that he was awake and needing to put space between him and the man who’d been the subject of the dream.

He’d slipped off the floor silently, the skills he’d honed as a killer being used for something other than death. Steve was still in bed. He’d always slept so hard, except the nights where they were freezing and huddled for warmth, or when he’d been coughing so bad that sleep was impossible. Those nights were difficult. Bucky’d thought watching the person he loved in that much pain was torture.

But now Bucky knew what real torture looked like, had carried it out himself, and he knew better than to make the comparison. It was painful, and draining, and as he’d looked at Steve’s face, fuller and healthier than he’d ever been in Brooklyn, he felt a swell of emotion in his chest.

So he’d left, he’d run, looking for an escape from the passage of time and the knowledge he still held. The back deck was already damp with dew and he felt the cool slick wetness under his feet. A creak of wood to his left made his head snap in that direction, body instantly on alert, looking for the threat.

“Couldn’t sleep either?”

Bucky relaxed, mostly, when he realized that Darcy was camouflaged in a pile of blankets, only her messy bun and glasses visible. He looked toward the trees, peering into the darkness, before glancing back in her direction. He wasn’t sure what compelled him to do it, as he’d come out here to be alone and hadn’t been looking to have a conversation, but he answered anyway. “Dreams.”

He heard Darcy hum in response and saw the mass of fabric shift slightly. She didn’t say anything more and he knew she would leave it at that if he stayed silent. He could leave her there, nested and quiet, and turn elsewhere to find the solitude he’d been looking for.

As if charmed by some sort of spell, he instead found himself crossing the space and taking a seat beside her on the bench, feeling the cold of the wood through the flannel pajama bottoms he wore. She stayed quiet, content to maintain the hush that had fallen over them, and he found himself relaxing even further. There was the tiniest hint of color in the sky to east and Bucky could feel the sun like a whisper on the air.

He wasn’t sure how long they’d stayed there like that, quiet and still, before she held open one of the blankets she was covered in. He hesitated for a moment before grabbing the edge and pulling it over his lap, feeling the warmth of her body next to his and what heat had transferred from her to the blanket. Another silence fell over them, but it wasn’t a stilted awkward quiet, but something… comfortable. She wasn’t asking questions, wondering why he was up so early or what kind of dream he’d been having. She was just there, calm and warm beside him, watching as the first light of dawn broke.

Which is why it completely surprised him when he started talking.

“Sometimes I remember things from before. In Brooklyn. Before I’d gotten my orders and shipped out.” He kept his eyes on the treeline, watching her turn to look at him in his peripheral vision, not certain why the words kept coming. “He was really sick when we were growing up. Scoliosis. Stomach ulcers. Asthma. Some days he couldn’t hold anything down, and he didn’t weigh more than a hundred pounds sopping wet.”

Darcy didn’t interrupt him or ask questions, somehow understanding that if she did, it would shatter whatever spell had been cast in the dark.

“After his Ma died, I did what I could, but it wasn’t enough. Leaving him was the hardest thing I ever had to do. He was always getting himself into trouble, and I knew that if I wasn’t there to watch over him, he was gonna get into something he couldn’t get out of.”

Darcy shifted against him and she was closer, warmer, pressed from hip to shoulder beneath the blankets.

“After I was captured, all I could think about was Steve, back in Brooklyn, and how much he needed me to come home. Just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore and I could feel myself slipping away, I saw his face hovering over mine. It was different, but it was Steve, and he was real, and he’d become the one saving me.”

When she leaned her head against his shoulder, he didn’t even notice.

“They’d done their best to pull me out, get rid of everything and put something else inside, but they couldn’t get rid of him, not really. He was still in there, hiding, hanging on. They could erase me, but they couldn’t erase him. He was in there. Too deep. Still is.”

The words stopped, and Bucky was left watching the sky turn golden above the trees, the birds beginning to wake and call. Everything was covered in silver dew and he could feel the moisture of the morning as the light began to brighten. He had no idea what had made him open his mouth, giving voice to thoughts he hadn’t completely unpacked himself. He was much better at keeping it inside, pushing it down and locking it away. Unspoken. Unsaid.

Why had the words come so easily?

For the first time since he’d taken a seat, Bucky felt the first stirrings of doubt. Now it felt like the silence was tense, pressure building toward some kind of release, his body becoming weighed down by the heaviness of his memories and the darkness they contained. Just when he felt like his ears would pop with gravity, her soft voice broke the quiet.

“I dreamed I was being attacked by twenty duck-sized horses.”

Slowly, Bucky turned to look down at Darcy, her head still leaning against his shoulder. Her usual smirk was gone, face serene as she peered into the trees, her comment sincere and truthful. He blinked and looked forward. The first chuckle that came from his mouth was soft, but it grew louder.

When she lifted her head to look at him, eyebrow raising in his direction, it only made him laugh more. “What?”

Her cheeks were starting to turn pink with embarrassment and he did his best to stop laughing, really, he did, but the earnestness of her statement lifted something from his shoulders.

“What?”

When Darcy slapped at his chest, he caught her hands in his, squeezing them. “I’m sorry, doll. I don’t mean to laugh. I’m sure it was terrifying.”

“Don’t patronize me, Barnes.” He continued to laugh. “Asshole.” Darcy started to climb to her feet, but Bucky pulled her back with an arm around her shoulders.

“I’m sorry. Really. Darcy. I don’t mean to laugh. Please. I’ll stop.”

She looked up at him, hazel eyes flashing defiantly behind her glasses, but she stopped trying to move away, instead settling against his side, drawing her legs under herself. He did stop laughing, but the smile on his face remained. Steve had asked the question, once or twice, wondering how Darcy was able to make them both feel better with just a conversation. He didn’t have an answer as to how, but Bucky was just happy it was true.

After several quiet moments passed, the forest coming alive with the sounds of birds and other animals, he felt Darcy’s shoulders lift and fall with a sigh. “It’s the same for him, you know.”

Bucky turned, resting his chin on the top of her head, the messy mass of curls brushing against his ear. “Hm?”

“Steve. He crossed the globe looking for you. You’re stuck in there, for him, too. Permanent.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, so he stayed silent, brain turning that thought over and over. Minutes passed, until the sky was bright and full, until Darcy pushed away from him and smiled. “Gotta get ready to go into town. Need anything from me?”

Already got it. “Not that I can think of.”

“Okay, gonna brush off the sweaters my teeth are wearing.”

Bucky watched her push the blankets away, the sleep shirt she wore skimming her knees, before she disappeared inside. He stayed there on the porch, alone like he’d wanted to be less than an hour ago, that word turning over and over in his head.

Permanent.

“Oh my god!”

At Darcy’s panicked shout, Steve ran from the living room to her bedroom, throwing open the door, heart pounding, eyes looking for the danger. He blinked as he tried to understand what was happening, his brain taking a few seconds to decipher it. The bed was in disarray, blankets and pillows everywhere, but it was the two people in the room that made his frown deepen.

Darcy was on Bucky’s back, arms around his neck and legs wrapped around his waist. She was pointing frantically toward the corner, her eyes wide as she shouted ‘it went that way!’ Bucky, in a move that impressed Steve, tossed her from his back and onto the bed. Darcy bounced a few times on the mattress before climbing to her feet on the bed, hair wild as she watched Bucky hunt.

“What is it?” Steve asked, watching Bucky grab the dresser and wrench it away from the wall.

“A rat!” Darcy answered, voice raising in volume when she saw a flash of brown dart past Bucky’s hands and make its way toward the bed. “That rat!”

When Darcy threw herself into his arms, Steve caught her easily, spinning her away so he could watch Bucky scramble across the floor, holding the bed up with his prosthetic, no hint on his face that it was heavy in the slightest. “It’s just a rat?”

“Just a rat? It was in the bed with us!”

“It was just looking for a warm place,” Bucky growled from under the bed.

“I don’t care if it was about to pay us rent, it just needs to die! I grew up around rats, they’ll eat your face off if you let them!”

“It wasn’t going to eat you,” Steve said with a laugh, trying to hide his grin when Darcy pulled back, eyes narrowed at him.

“It’s not a rat,” Bucky said, shimmying out from beneath the bed, the frame squeaking as he put it back on the floor. “It’s a mouse.”

“So?”

“So,” Bucky said, his fist closed as he approached them, “field mice are tiny. You shouldn’t be scared of them.”

“I’m not scared,” Darcy argued as he came closer, digging herself further in Steve’s arms, “I just don’t like things that touch me when I’m sleeping.”

“Hear that, Buck? She doesn’t like you.”

Rolling his eyes at Steve, Bucky held out his hand so Darcy could inspect it. “Look how small it is.”

Squinting, disbelief in her eyes as she leaned forward, Darcy tried to keep her breathing under control as Bucky eased his hand open. There, popping up between his thumb and forefinger, was the tiny, long snout of a mouse, it’s whiskers on either side twitching, breathing heavy. She frowned, realizing how she’d reacted to something so small. “It’s a mammalian response, okay? All of human nature says I should freak, so I did.”

When Bucky took a step back, his hands careful as he brought them to his eyes so he could peer at his new friend, Darcy’s frown faltered, pretty sure she’d never seen something as cute as a grown man, a feared assassin the world over, practically cuddling with a mouse. “What are you going to do with it?”

“Take him out back and set him free,” Bucky said, gray eyes flicking up to her. “That okay?”

“Of course,” she said automatically, the look on his face softer than anything she’d seen before.

Steve moved out of the doorway so Bucky could get by, then followed the other man onto the back patio. As Bucky padded barefoot across the dew-dripped grass, he considered the tiny changes he could see in his best friend. There was a vulnerability where there hadn’t been before, and it didn’t appear to bother Bucky to let it show, at least when he was around Steve and Darcy. That he could let his guard down was a miracle, and Steve felt the happiness of it fill his eyes.

Watching Bucky crouch where forest met grass, it was almost mesmerizing how precise his movements were, how carefully he treated the tiny thing in his hands. It was leaps and bounds from where he’d been just a few months ago, and Darcy felt the flutter of emotion in her chest. Steve’s content exhale brushed against her cheeks, and she patted his arm, those gorgeous cobalt eyes sliding to hers, the bright smile on his face drawing one of her own. “You can put me down now, handsome.”

“Oh, right,” Steve breathed, letting Darcy out of his arms carefully, setting her feet on the cool wood of the patio. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. It’s not every day a girl can say she jumped into Captain America’s arms,” she said with a laugh, curling her arm around his as they watched Bucky stand, his eyes on the brush and forest, and the tiny mouse he’d just saved.

Chapter Text

Steve could hear the familiar sound of laughter coming from the kitchen as he came to consciousness. He groaned, lifting his head from the pillow and squinting against the light suffusing the room around the curtains in the window. He let his head fall back down, taking a deep breath. Pushing the covers away, he sat up and pressed his feet to the floor, cold and weathered beneath his toes.

Another round of laughter wafted to him, this time a duet of voices. He felt his lips turn up in a grin, hearing Bucky match Darcy’s laugh. He’d been hearing it more and more as the weeks went on, something about her and this house filling Bucky with a peace and calm that nothing else had seemed to do.

Steve thought he’d be upset that he wasn’t the one helping the only man he’d ever loved return to himself, but he wasn’t, not when he was seeing less and less of The Soldier and more of the man he’d known before everything had gotten so complicated.

But it wasn’t just Bucky she had an effect on. Steve felt better than he had in years, since becoming fugitives, since Wakanda and the months stretching on forever with Bucky still in cryo, since they’d agreed to the arrangement and made their way here. Something about being here, with her, had settled something in both of them.

Steve padded toward the noise on bare feet, smiling when a peal of giggles, high pitched and bright, sounded anew.

“I thought you’d have better aim,” Darcy teased, lips slanting at the flash of indignation Bucky pointed her way. “Maybe we can get Barton to give you some pointers.” She leaned forward, closing her eyes and opening her mouth. When something soft hit her right cheek, she laughed again.

“My aim is fine, you’re the one who keeps moving.” Bucky pulled another blueberry from the bowl and lined up his shot. He deliberately threw it at her forehead, smirking when her eyes flew open, trying to catch it before it could fall to the floor. She managed to stop it on the island, but smooshed it in the process. Unperturbed, she popped it in her mouth and licked at the juice on her palm.

“There won’t be anymore for the pancakes if you keep this up.”

Bucky shrugged and turned back to the stove, wiping his hands on a kitchen towel before draping it over his shoulder. He didn’t appear to be concerned with the way the bacon was sizzling and spitting as he stood there in his flannel sleep pants, and Darcy allowed her eyes to trace the muscles of his back, well defined and strong under his skin, taking a moment to appreciate the hollow divots near where the hem of his pants sat, right above his ass. It was a pretty view and she didn’t think anyone could fault her for taking advantage of the situation.

Darcy’s eyes flicked to Steve as he appeared, also shirtless, wearing a pajama bottoms that clung everywhere and hid nothing and that ought to be illegal. “Really? I know you boys own shirts, I’m certain of it.”

She watched Steve and Bucky glance in each other’s direction and damn, was the cooking making it as hot as a volcano rim in the kitchen, or was it just the bare desire that she could see in their eyes? Darcy leaned onto the island, holding her chin in her palm as she watched them. Whatever silent conversation had been going on between the two of them evaporated as Steve moved past Bucky, their bodies brushing against each other in the small space, and it left Darcy rolling her eyes.

“I’m pretty positive you own a pair of boxer shorts, yet there you sit in only a shirt,” Steve said. The first time she’d come out of her bedroom in only an oversized shirt had been a surprise. The second and third had seen Steve averting his eyes, glaring softly at Bucky when he didn’t do the same. After that it’d become a topic of teasing. Is Captain America afraid of showing a little skin? I’ve gotta call dateline! Since then it’d become a running joke between the trio.

Darcy narrowed her eyes at Steve as his gaze flicked up and caught hers, amusement in his voice as he pulled the orange juice from the fridge. “Yeah, well at least my shirt covers my ass. If you could find a pair of pants that covered your nipples, I’d appreciate it.”

In reality she was ecstatic she could spend a few moments letting her eyes pour over every inch of exposed skin on the both of them. My oh my but they were both so pretty. She wasn’t sure how or when it’d happened, but the tension and pain that they’d once sported like scars had almost vanished, replaced with laughter and smile lines, and sometimes she could even see the tiniest sliver of contentment in their eyes.

Now if they’d just kiss and get it over with, she’d be ecstatic.

Since the morning a few weeks ago, when Bucky had finally confessed his feelings for Steve, Darcy’d made it her mission to help facilitate what would spur them onto the next level. Bucky had begun feeling more comfortable flashing that bright charming smile her way, and Darcy was more than happy to needle him back, flirting and generally being a pain in his ass. It was fun, and mostly harmless, and if it helped chase some of the darkness from his eyes, she was happy to help.

Besides, knowing he had his eye on the blond currently pouring himself a glass of orange juice made it easier. It reminded her a bit of her relationship with Thor; he was safe, as he was one hundred percent on the Jane Sex Express, which gave her the opportunity to lay it on thick, without risk of it turning into anything more. She got it now, what Steve saw in the man, why he’d been willing to go against his country to keep Bucky safe. He was amazing, and funny, and caring, and if he could cause her stomach to flip a bit, she couldn’t imagine what it was like for Steve.

So she’d begun treating it like a game, waiting to see what would cause a reaction in Steve, seeing how far she could push it.

And Darcy’d been told she could be very pushy.

“The bacon is burning,” Steve said, coming to stand beside Bucky at the stove, giving the skillet of bacon a glance as he sipped from his glass.

“No, it isn’t,” Bucky said dismissively, flipping a pancake, satisfied with the golden color he’d achieved.

Steve pointed at the pan, at the strip of meat in the middle, bubbling and sizzling as it curled. “That one, right there. Hey!” He pulled his hand back when Bucky slapped at him with the spatula.

“Darcy, be a doll and distract this man before I murder him.”

Darcy, who’d been watching them with what she knew had to be a goofy grin, straightened and shook her head. “And what do you suppose I do, huh? Attempt to drag his ass away? His left thigh has more muscles than I have in my entire body!”

Bucky threw her The Look over his shoulder. “How about you show him our new neighbors.”

Steve watched as her face lit up, eyes widening in excitement.

“Oh yeah!” Darcy scrambled from her seat at the island, circling it until she could grab Steve’s hand and pull him toward the back door. He took a second to set down his glass before he let her pull him away. Steve chanced a glance over his shoulder at Bucky, pulse beating harder as he caught the other man staring. Steve could feel something in the gaze, something heavy and wordless, but as he was pulled through the door, the bright light of the morning made Bucky disappear in darkness.

He squinted against the sunshine, looking ahead as Darcy led them with a purpose. Once they’d descended the steps of the porch they hit the grass, still covered with dew and incredibly soft. It was cool against his bare feet and his toes curled into it as they walked toward the treeline. “I thought the whole point of coming out here was so we didn’t have neighbors.”

“Yeah, well, life finds a way, you know?” Darcy glanced over her shoulder at him, disappointed when he didn’t seem to recognize the reference. Note to Self: Steve needs to watch Jurassic Park. She stopped right at the treeline, where the grass ended and the forest underbrush began and pointed up. “Right there.”

Steve’s chin lifted and he blinked, trying to see what she was pointing at. “What?”

“Right there!” She gestured a bit more, finger poking in a specific direction.

“I have no idea where you’re pointing.”

“Ugh! I thought you were supposed to have super sight!” Darcy closed the distance between them, putting her body flush against his, squinting so she could see his angle and line of sight. Biting her lip, realizing belatedly that she’d left her glasses inside and it might account for her unimpressive location giving skills, she tried to her best to point.

Steve ducked his head slightly, lining his cheeks with hers, eyes seeking out the object she was trying so hard to show him. Finally, he saw slight movement in the crook of a branch. “A nest?”

“Not just any nest,” Darcy said, letting her arm drop to her side, “a nest made with super soldier hair! They actually did it!”

Laughing, Steve straightened, grinning when Darcy spun around, teeth showing in a wide smile. “Son of a bitch.”

“Right? Right?! It’s gotta be the safest nest ever built!”

“Well, Darcy Lewis, you’re responsible for creating two homes now. You should be pretty proud.” He watched an expression he couldn’t place cross her features in a wave before it disappeared, pushed aside with a roll of her eyes.

“A home is the people you surround yourself with. For you, that’s the man in there burning your bacon.” She peered up at Steve, pressing a hand to his chest, voice softening. “I know it’s not my place, and I know you’re both dealing with a lot of things, things I could never understand, but you both deserve something happy. You know that, right? That you can let yourselves be happy?”

Steve looked down at her, watching Darcy’s hazel eyes fill with sincere concern. “Darcy -”

“Don’t Darcy me, Steve Rogers. I like dancing as much as the next girl, but if you two don’t stop dancing around each other and get this shit figured out, I’m going to go crazy.”

“We’re not -”

“Save it. I’ve said my piece. Get your shit together, Rogers, because you are a hot mess.”

Steve opened his mouth but stopped when he heard Bucky call from the back door that breakfast was ready. Darcy patted his chest twice more before moving around him and toward the cabin.

He squinted up at the nest once more, listening to the little chirps coming from inside the mass of hair and twigs, mind turning over what she’d just said. Bucky was his home, and since coming out here, he’d seen the man he knew and loved return, piece by piece, steadily and quicker than he could have hoped for.

When Steve heard it, something mechanical and definitely out of place, he took a step back, eyes narrowing as he searched the sky for the source. He saw something in the distance, something with propellers, getting larger and larger by the second. He kept his eyes on the threat, walking backward, arm reaching behind him. “Darcy!”

Darcy spun on the wet grass at his shout of alarm, slipping as she lost her footing. She went down hard, her ankle already throbbing with pain. “Fuck!” She didn’t even have time to ask what was going on before Steve had scooped her into his arms, tucking her against his chest as he started running back toward the cabin.

“Bucky!”

It only took a second before Bucky was on the porch, tension in every muscle, knowing the cadence of Steve’s voice, knowing that something was wrong. Darcy was attempting to look over Steve’s shoulder, trying to see what was happening, feeling a little nauseous as the world streamed by in a blur of colors.

“Here!”

Darcy screamed when Steve threw her at Bucky, her hands and feet cartwheeling awkwardly through the air. As if they’d practiced it a million times before, Bucky caught her, screaming and wet from the grass and oh my god what the fuck is going on, and spun with her inside. “Wait! Steve!”

Steve could count four propellers carrying a payload of something below it, and it was getting closer. The hum was still faint, definitely in stealth mode, and he looked around for something to hit it from the sky before it got too close.

In the cabin, Darcy slapped at Bucky’s chest, trying to keep her eyes on Steve as they moved further into the interior. “Put me down and go help him!”

Bucky shook his head. “Need to make sure you’re safe.” He carried her past the island and pulled open the refrigerator door, tucking her behind it. “Stay here. If something explodes, this’ll shield you.”

“If what explodes! Bucky! Hey!” Darcy’s head peeked around the door, watching his dark hair as he ran outside.

Leaving Darcy in the safest place he could, Bucky came to a stop next to Steve. “Report.”

“Device with payload. Stealth and moving fast.”

“Aerial Maneuverability?”

“Too fast to bring down with a projectile.” Steve looked over at Bucky, for once glad to see a bit of a soldier behind his gray eyes. It wasn’t the one Hydra had forced into him, but the Sergeant he’d been in the army, his soldier. “Have to wait until it gets close. Darcy?”

“Secured. On board weapons?”

“None visible, but uncertain.”

Bucky nodded, feeling the vibrating energy in his own body echoing through Steve’s as well. He kept waiting for The Soldier to appear, quieting him and taking control of the situation, but he didn’t. Bucky was in control of his own thoughts and actions. His gaze slid from the threat to Steve, an emotion catching in his throat as he locked eyes with the blond. He wanted to say something, anything, but he wasn’t sure words would explain the feeling singing through his veins.

Steve could feel the electricity in the air, a heaviness in preparation for whatever was about to happen. Having this man at his side again? There was nothing to describe it. His arm lifted, reaching up to squeeze Bucky’s shoulder. The skin along Bucky’s exposed collar bone was soft under his thumb, and Steve tried to fill his eyes with everything that was rolling through him, though he knew it would never be enough.

The men shared a look brimming with emotion - trust, worry, familiarity, and the promise of more - then turned as one toward the threat. Steve’s hand on Bucky’s shoulder fell away as he took several steps backward. “Give me a boost.”

“What?” Bucky gave him an incredulous, confused look as a small smirk curled onto Steve’s face.

“A boost. Gonna knock it down.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Now!”

Despite his hesitation, Bucky pressed his hands together and bent down, hearing the hum of propellers growing louder behind his back. Steve ran at him, shirtless and focused, and when his foot found the cradle of Bucky’s hands, he grunted as he was thrown upward with force.

Steve was surprised when the device was smaller than he thought it’d be, but relieved when he saw there were no weapons on board. The relief flowed through him tenfold when he spotted the familiar Stark Industries logo on the side of the drone.

He pulled the drone and its package against his chest, landing on the grass with a jolt he could feel ripple through his body. Bucky was at his side immediately, fists clenched and still prepared for a fight. “It’s Stark’s,” Steve said, climbing to his feet and turning the device over in his hands.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Both men turned to look at Darcy, who was in the doorway and looking at both of them with flashing eyes. “You threw me into the fridge for a Stark drone?”

Steve’s lips turned up at the disbelief in her voice, eyes sliding over to Bucky. “You put her in the fridge?”

“Could have been an explosion,” Bucky replied, shoulders shrugging upward, no sound of regret in his tone, “safest place for her to be.”

Darcy took a step toward them angrily, her exasperation clearly on display. It lost its fizzle when she grabbed the door frame and cursed, taking the weight off the ankle she’d turned in the grass. Bucky was up the porch and on a knee in front of her in seconds. As he reached out to inspect it, she pulled it back and held it out of his reach. “It’s fine.”

“Let me see.”

“Barnes -”

“Darcy!” His voice made her freeze and she looked down at him, her mouth snapping closed. His hand hovered over her ankle, not touching it since she’d said to stop, but held there anyway, waiting. “Will you please stop being a pain in my ass and just let me make sure it’s not broken?”

Darcy knew full well that it wasn’t broken, if anything it was just a sprain, but the way he looked up at her stopped any argument she might have made. She was almost positive she’d had a dream like this before - gorgeous shirtless man who’s on his knees before her, asking for permission to touch her body - but all she could do was nod.

Her gaze slipped past Bucky when Steve climbed onto the porch, drone and its attached box held to his chest. “All that for a little drone? What would you have owowooowwwwwww fuck,” she hissed, glaring down at Bucky. “Hey, super soldier, think you could try not to snap it with your super strength? Jesus.”

“Sorry,” Bucky said, feeling Steve arrive at his back. “You need to ice it and keep it elevated. It’ll hurt like a bitch but you don’t need to see a doctor.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Darcy held out a hand to Steve, fingers wiggling in the air toward him. “Tony better have sent something good after causing all this trouble.”

“I’m not sure it’s from Tony,” Steve hummed, holding the box out so she can see the words For Lady Darcy written on the side.

“Awwww, Hammertime’s sending me gifts now?” Darcy asked with a smile, surprised by the weight of the package as she held it in her hands.

“You weren’t expecting something?” The thread of suspicion in Bucky’s voice was ignored as Darcy, with as much grace as she could muster while hopping on one foot, left them on the porch and collapsed onto the couch. Bucky climbed to his feet, frowning at the package.

“It’s okay, Buck,” Steve said, resting his hand on Bucky’s shoulder as they watched Darcy rip into the box. “I’ll get her some ice.” He didn’t take a step away, however, unable to make himself move from that spot, feeling the warmth of Bucky’s body at his side. The tension of the potential attack had faded, replaced by unreleased adrenaline and the unanswered swell of emotion still heavy in chest.

“No. Fucking. Way!”

Both men smiled at each other, shaking their heads at Darcy’s outburst, used to the raven-haired woman’s particular vernacular. They broke contact as Steve moved toward the kitchen and Bucky moved toward the couch. “Why would a god be sending you anything?”

“Because he owes me and he knows it,” Darcy said as she looked at Bucky, a mischievous and slightly devious glint in her eyes. She let her head fall back against the back of the couch when she felt Steve come up behind them, a towel filled with ice in his hands.

“Here,” Bucky said, hands ghosting over her legs as he lifted them into his lap, careful of her ankle.

“This would be better if you were wearing a shirt,” Darcy frowned, choosing not to fight him as he settled her foot on a pillow so it was elevated.

“Or if you were wearing pants,” Steve said, handing the towel to Bucky as he took a seat on the coffee table opposite them. “What’d Thor send?”

Hissing slightly as the ice hit her skin, she held the box out to Steve. She smirked as he pulled the bottle from inside the package, eyebrows furrowing.

Steve tried to read the label, realizing it was in Asgardian before recognition dawned on his face. “Why’d -”

“Why did the Big Guy send me a bottle of Asgardian ale? Because he loves me, obviously. Shieldmaiden, sister in his heart, yadda yadda yadda.”

Bucky leaned forward, earning a groan from Darcy as her leg shifted, and grabbed the bottle from Steve. “I don’t get it. What’s so great about it?”

“Because ’it’ll get you drunk!’” Darcy said, doing her best impression but realizing seconds later that neither of the men would have any idea what she was quoting. Almost half of the things Darcy said were pop culture references and, alas, she was with two men who would get absolutely none of them.

“Our metabolisms -”

“Trust me, Buck, if anything was going to do it, it’d be this,” Steve said, shaking his head with a small grin, remembering the last time he’d seen people drinking the stuff in the Tower. “I’m almost positive this would even take down the Hulk if he had a taste.”

Bucky’s face pulled into one of disbelief as he handed the bottle back to Darcy. “If it’s that strong, maybe you shouldn’t drink it,” he said, patting her calf.

“Oh, it’s not for me,” Darcy said, ignoring how warm his hand on her skin was, “I just hate drinking alone. And what’s the point of drinking with you guys if you can’t have as much fun as I can?”

“Why would we be drinking in the first place?”

“Because we’ll be celebrating!” When both men turned to her with confused expressions, she threw her hands in the air. “Really? Do neither of you own a calendar? Next Friday is our six month anniversary!”

As their blank looks continued, Darcy ran a hand over her face in frustration. “Look,” she attempted to pull her legs from Bucky’s lap but he stopped her with a glare, holding them still with both hands, “I know none of us had this little arrangement on our dream boards growing up, but I think we’ve done relatively well with the situation we’ve been thrown into.”

Steve frowned at her, his back straightening. “I wasn’t aware it was such a hardship for you, Darcy.”

Darcy rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. Heaven save me from broody superheroes. “Come on, Drama Rogers,” she watched Steve throw a glare in Bucky’s direction when the man at her feet snorted, “you know I didn’t mean it like that. I meant that maybe we’re due for a night of music and dressing up, some good food and a little dancing, and getting a little tipsy because, damn it, we’re worth it. Please? Please!?”

“You going to be able to dance on that ankle by then?”

Darcy’s eyes narrowed as her face turned toward Bucky. “When are you going to learn to stop challenging me, Barnes?”

“When you stop rising to the bait, doll,” he said, only smirking slightly when he shifted the ice so it touched new skin, watching the shiver roll up her body. He looked over at Steve with a raised eyebrow. “What do ya say, punk? You’ll finally be able to enjoy having a drink.” At Steve’s frown, Bucky looked back at Darcy. “He couldn’t really before, you know,” he said, lips curling at the look Steve sent his way, “the only alcohol in the house was for when he got sick. Eventually he associated the stuff with feeling horrible and the smell alone would make him sick.”

Darcy’s tongue clicked and she looked to Steve, her face a mask of feigned pity, “oh, that’s so tragic! You poor, poor little man. Classic conditioning at it’s finest.”

“You know what?” Both Bucky and Darcy called out when Steve stood, their apologies making him pause before turning back to them.

“We’re sorry, really.”

“Just teasing, promise.”

Steve sighed, hands resting on his hips as he pinned them with a soft glare. He could feel a smile growing on his face despite himself, unable to hold it in as he looked at the two of them, dark-haired and incorrigible. What had he done in a past life to earn them? “I’m going to heat up breakfast.”

“Maybe put on a shirt.”

“Only if you put on some pants.”

“Don’t tell me what to do, Rogers.”

Chapter Text

“I would’ve loved to go to college,” Steve said, leaning on the dining room table, giving Darcy a wistful look.

Darcy dropped her fork on her plate and sat back in her seat with a groan, not knowing how she was going to fit any liquid in her stomach after a dinner so large. “Art school?”

Steve straightened, his face pulling surprised lines. “How’d…?” When Darcy pointed over his shoulder toward the sketch pad still sitting on the couch, he turned back to her with an embarrassed smile. “Right. Yeah. Art school.”

“You’d've gotten in,” Bucky hummed, climbing to his feet and beginning to clear the dishes from the table. “I’ve been telling you since we were kids. You’re a whiz with a pencil, punk.”

“Why didn’t you?” Darcy stretched her arm along the table and laid her head on her bicep, blinking lazily in Steve’s direction.

“I barely graduated with all my absences, and we lived from paycheck to paycheck. Ma had no way of saving up money, and after she died it seemed like the last thing I should be worrying about.”

“I told him he should apply anyway, but he can be pretty stubborn.”

Darcy grinned at the sound of Bucky’s tone, widening her eyes in Steve’s direction. “Steven Grant Rogers? Stubborn? Nooooo…”

“Ha ha,” Steve said sarcastically, “neither of you have any room to talk.”

“I am offended that you would suggest such a thing to sully my good name, sir,” Darcy said with a laugh, stretching her arms above her head before climbing to her feet. She’d waited to break out the drinks until they had food in their bellies, still unsure how the ale was really going to affect the super soldiers. Or if it would affect them at all. Better safe than sorry, she’d reasoned.

She brought the bottle from the living room to the island in the kitchen. Darcy fumbled around in the kitchen to find a corkscrew but came up empty. Shrugging her shoulders, she brought the bottle to her mouth and bit into the cork, twisting and pulling until she could feel the stopper begin to give.

“You’re going to hurt your teeth doing that,” Steve warned, laughing when the cork let out a bright Pop! as she worked it free. When Darcy spat it in his direction, he caught the stopper easily, laughing before throwing it into the trash.

When Darcy leaned forward to take a sniff, she immediately started coughing, waving a hand in front of her face as she pulled back. “Good god that burns! I don’t think I have any hairs left in my nose!”

Eyebrows raising, Bucky grabbed the bottle and took a sniff. He grimaced, but shrugged his shoulder nonchalantly before setting it back on the island. “Nothing worse than the swill we used to drink with the Commandos.”

“I still can’t believe you’ve never been drunk before,” Darcy said to Steve as she grabbed three glasses from the cabinet and set them down. “It’s like a rite of passage!”

“Well I was denied passage on that particular vessel.” When Bucky and Darcy looked over at him sharply, expressions of mutual embarrassment for what he’d just said, Steve ignored them. “I might’ve felt it a few times, but I just figured it was the anemia.”

“Thor assures me this will solve that sad little problem, even if you only get a bit tipsy.”

Steve climbed to his feet when Darcy waved a glass in his direction. His fingers wrapped around it, taking it from her hand and bringing it to his nose. As the scent of what smelled like gasoline burned down his sinuses, his eyebrows raised toward his hairline. “This is going to be awful.”

“What perfect words to start the celebration!” Darcy poured herself a non-god-given drink and waited for Bucky to finish putting the dishes in the sink before handing him a glass as well. She raised her own drink in the air, the three of them crowded around the kitchen island. “Here's to us, and Asgard, and Uncle Les for letting us stay here!”

“To Darcy Lewis, Super-Soldier Babysitter and top dame.” Bucky said, flashing a brilliant smile when she looked over at him with a raised eyebrow.

“And to friends,” Steve finished, earning both of their eyes, “who talk you into the worst situations.”

“Hear hear!” Darcy shouted, the three of them proceeding to take sips of their respective drinks. When Steve and Bucky swallowed, their faces screwing up in grimaces, she couldn’t help the laugh that broke free. “Oh my god, you guys should see your faces.”

“This is a bad idea,” Steve said, peering into his glass and the dark liquid inside.

“Sack up, Rogers, because this is happening,” Darcy hummed before taking another drink.

“Yeah, punk. What’s the worst that could happen?”

The arm holding Steve's glass dropped to the island, his blue eyes giving Bucky a exasperated glare. “You just had to say it, didn’t you?”

“Don’t blame me, blame the dame.”

“Yeah!” Darcy said, throwing her hands in the air and executing a perfect spin, “blame meeeeeee!”

“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” Steve shouted, watching as Bucky tipped his head back, the song blasting from Darcy’s iPod as she laughed.

“Deal with it, Rogers!”

Bucky let his arm down, swallowing the potent concoction that Thor had sent them. He watched Steve begin to drink, throat working and adam’s apple bobbing. “Where did you learn this game?” he yelled, head tipping in Darcy’s direction.

“College,” Darcy shouted back.

“What do you call it?”

“Thunder! Obviously! College kids aren’t that creative when it comes to naming drinking games!” The laughter drained from her face when she realized what part of the song came next. “Son of a bitch,” she grumbled, reaching out to pour herself another drink.

This game had called for something other than wine (her usual drink of choice), so she’d mixed some cranberry juice and vodka in a large pitcher. She didn’t intend to drink it all herself, let alone drink it all that night, but knew it’d go down much easier than a malbec. When the next shout of ’Thunder!’ emanated from her speaker, she brought the glass to her lips and began to drink, keeping in mind how long this specific part of the song went on before it’d be Bucky’s turn again.

“So she has to keep drinking until he says ‘Thunder’ again?” Steve asked, moving to stand next to Bucky, both of them watching in awe as Darcy finished her first glass and went onto the next. “How long is that going to be?”

“Apparently long,” Bucky said, eyebrows raising when she lifted a hand over her head and begun to spin slowly, hips shaking. “That’s a lot of alcohol.”

Darcy heard Bucky’s concern and waved a hand in his direction. She’d purposefully not made her drinks too heavy, keeping a good alcohol-to-juice ratio. Tipsy was her goal, not sloppy, and if her master plan was going to work, she needed to keep her wits about her. She could hear Jane’s caution in her ear, telling her not to push too much. Darcy was going to try. She was going to try her damnedest.

As the song came to its close, Darcy took a seat on the couch, her iPod going silent as it switched to the next song. She turned the volume down, not wanting to have to shout over the music when she didn’t have to. She blinked up at Bucky and Steve, a grin turning her lips. Their cheeks were flushed as they laughed, a few more crinkles around their eyes, and the sight of them so loose was exactly what she’d hoped would happen. “What?”

“Just wondering how you put all that away,” Bucky said with a shrug, sitting on the arm of the couch next to her.

“Like I said. College is a hell of a time,” Darcy said, shuddering as she remembered all the horrible jungle juice dorm parties she’d attended, as well as all the places she’d thrown up around campus. That she’d made it through without a public intox ticket was a miracle. Not that she’d be the first lawyer with a less than stellar criminal background, but she was happy with it all the same. She laughed when Steve collapsed onto the couch next to her, his cheeks pink from laughter, eyes bright. “How ‘ya feeling, Rogers? You a lightweight?”

“I used to be a lightweight,” Steve said with a shake of his head, “pretty sure no one can call me that anymore.”

“Hulk could.” There was a beat of silence before Darcy frowned. “Wait, is it just Hulk, or is it The Hulk? I mean, I know it’s Banner and he turns into the Hulk, but if the Hulk is completely separate from Banner, with his own thoughts and feelings, doesn’t that mean he isn’t a ‘the’ but a ‘he’?” Darcy’s eyes widened when a thought occurred to her. “Fuck, does that mean we have to get Hulk to sign the Accords too? I gotta write this down.”

Steve and Bucky watched Darcy practically run toward her room and the copious legal pads she had inside, full of notes and thoughts that she needed to bring up the next time she saw Tony. Movement to his right made Steve’s gaze swing in that direction, Bucky suddenly becoming the only thing he wanted to pay attention to. “Does it feel like before?”

Bucky looked over at Steve as he slipped from the arm of the couch and took the seat Darcy had just left, the line of his and Steve’s bodies touching from knee to shoulder. “I think we’re getting there. It’s just taking longer than I thought it would.” When Steve just blinked at him, with those eyelashes that had always driven Bucky crazy, the soldier frowned. “What?”

“I was talking about being drunk, that if this is what it felt like.” Steve’s eyebrows furrowed. “What was that other stuff?”

“What?”

“The other stuff you said. About it taking longer -” Steve’s focus was pulled away, the thought that’d been in his head and its importance floating away into the haze. Darcy stood in the hallway, a legal pad in one hand, a pen in the other. She was wearing a black dress covered in tiny white dots, the fabric forming a vee in the front, showing off the graceful lines of her clavicles and a large swath of porcelain pink skin. Steve’s fingers itched to draw the life she held inside, but sat forward when he recognized her expression was one of confusion. “What is it?”

Darcy blinked, her mind blanking, wondering if she might have drunk a little too much. “I forgot what I needed to write down.”

“Hulk,” Bucky growled, “The Hulk.” When Darcy’s hazel gaze flicked up to him, he watched the light in her eyes glow brighter when she remembered, her ruby red lips parting before they curled up in a smile. It was beautiful, watching her mind turn over the problem, the way her forehead crinkled when she was deep in thought. He’d spent a fair amount of time just watching Darcy, the way her lips moved as she read, acting out both parts of an argument and playing her own devil’s advocate. It was impressive, and endearing, and the smile on Bucky’s face grew larger as she made her way over to him and Steve.

Darcy hit both of their knees with her legal pad, scooching them apart so she could wiggle in between the pair, chewing on her bottom lip as she brought the pen to the paper. “Huuullkkk,” she hummed as she wrote, “or theeeee Hulk.” Her handwriting was a little off, more loopy than the other words on the page, but still readable. “Neeeeeeeds to signnnn Accords... question mark.” When she felt Steve chuckle to her left, she looked over at him. “What?”

“Nothing,”

“Not nothing. Why do you laugh?”

“I’m not laughing, Darce, I promise. I just like the way your brain works.”

A small frown crossed Darcy’s features. “Thanks?”

“It’s a compliment,” Steve said, not liking the look on her face or her questioning tone.

“If you say so.”

When she moved to pick up her pen again, Steve reached out and gathered Darcy’s hands in his, learning toward her and ignoring the way her eyes widened in alarm. “Hey. It is a compliment. You’ve spent the last six months working to get us home, but more than that, you just realized that in order to keep Hulk safe he’ll need to sign the Accords, too. That’s amazing. You have great ideas.”

Darcy blinked at the certainty in Steve’s gaze. She hadn’t taken a breath while he'd spoke, just listening to the sound of his voice and the warmth of his hands. When he breathed outward, the smell of anise and cloves hung in the air, the Asgardian ale having worked its magic, at least if the size of Steve’s pupils were any indication. She felt Bucky move at her back, adjusting his position so he could see the two of them, and it hit her at once that she’d literally put herself between both men, the very men she was trying to help along, acting as some kind of little cherub love baby fairy. Heartbeat speeding at the look on his face, Darcy steeled her nerves and decided to just do the damn thing. “You sure my ideas are great? All of them?”

“Absolutely,” Steve said immediately, the tone and timbre of his voice as sincere as he could make it.

“Good, then I’d like to play a game.”

“Another drinking game?” Bucky asked, looking at Steve, then Steve’s lips, before sliding his gaze toward Darcy, watching as she brought her bottom lip between her teeth and chewed for a second before she shook her head.

“Not a drinking game. Something different.” Darcy cringed internally, hoping like hell she wasn’t doing something she’d regret, or more scary, something that would destroy the friendship she’d built with the boys over the past half-year. It was in her nature to try and heal things, to correct with things that were wrong, and the flame that burned between Bucky and Steve just needed a little more oxygen to really get going. If she needed to fan it a bit, she wouldn't hesitate. In her tipsy state of mind, Darcy needed some sort of catalyst, something that would get the ball rolling. Just a push. That's all they'd need. “I wanna play truth or dare.”

Bucky watched the confusion flow over Steve’s face. “Confess or command,” he said, the other man’s eyes widening in recognition. He leaned in so he could put his mouth next to Darcy’s ear. “We called it something different when we were younger.”

“Yeah, you called it something terrifying,” Darcy said, her nose crinkling at the name as she looked over at Bucky. “Sounds like something that would have happened during the Spanish Inquisition.”

“We used it to stay sane when we were waiting for the next mission. We’d get DumDum to agree to the most ridiculous things, because we all knew he couldn’t back down when he’d agreed to something, always needing to save face.” Steve smiled with nostalgia, looking over at Bucky. “You remember that time he walked into the mess hall, naked as the day he was born, and singing Silent Night in the middle of August?”

The smirk on Bucky’s face grew, the memories coming back to him in a rush. “Fuck, I haven’t thought about that night since…”

Grin faltering, Darcy saw their jovial mood start to shift, and as she was desperate to keep everything light, she slipped from the couch and sat at their feet, pushing the coffee table back so they had room. “Is that one of the reasons you called him DumDum?”

“We called him DumDum because he’d pretend like he was an idiot, but behind that mustache and hat was one of the best military strategists I’ve ever met,” Steve said, eyes down as he remembered the rest of the Howling Commandos, and how he and Bucky were the only ones left.

“So it’s like calling a giant ‘Tiny’,” Darcy said, Steve’s nod and the small smile on his face making her feel infinitely better. There was still the ghost of a shadow behind Bucky’s eyes, and she reached out to squeeze his knee, giving him a warm expression when he looked to her. “So what kind of things would you ask people to confess?”

“Stupid stuff," Steve said, taking another large drink from his glass. "Most things weren’t really fit for a lady's ear.”

“Hey, are you calling me a lady?” Darcy barked, grinning when Steve’s eyes widened in apology. “Steve, Steve, Stevie, it’s fine, really, but I’m as vulgar as the next guy. You can’t not say anything that wouldn't shock me more than it would.”

"That sentence didn't make any sense," Bucky said with a grin in her direction.

“It made perfect sense, Barnes."

Steve rested his cup on his knee, blinking down at Darcy. “Most of the guys just asked questions like ‘when was the last time you kissed a dame?’”

Darcy raised an eyebrow. “I’m betting it was a little more Rated R than you’re letting on, but I’ll go with it.”

“What?”

“When was the last time you kissed a girl?”

Steve’s eyebrows knit together. “Are we starting the game?”

“Sure,” Darcy said, taking a large drink of liquid courage, “so spill it.”

“I, uh…”

“It was that blonde, right?” When Steve looked over at Bucky, the other man shrugged his shoulders. “I was there, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” Steve said, his cheeks heating pink, remembering Sharon Carter and the kiss they’d shared when she’d returned their things from S.H.I.E.L.D. custody. “It was.”

“That was the last kiss you had? Was it even a good one? I mean, it was one of the only kisses you’ve had since you were thawed and you almost forgot about it?” Darcy laughed when his gaze flicked up to her.

“It wasn’t her fault,” Steve argued, frowning, “things were a little tense, considering she was committing treason and going against a direct order. Plus, Sam and Bucky were in the car, and I knew they could see -”

Darcy waved her hands through the air, stopping the flow of his excuses. “Nope. Maybe you’re so rusty you don’t know how to do it anymore.”

“I’m perfectly fine -”

“Bucky, you were there. Was it a good kiss?”

Bucky shook his head, enjoying the pink tint to both Darcy and Steve’s cheeks, eyes lingering on each of their mouths. “She wasn't his type,” he said, as if that explained it all.

“No. Nope. Once isn’t enough. Too small of a sample pool. We’ll come back to you, Rogers. Take a drink and we’ll put Buck in the hot seat.” Darcy turned her attention to the other man on the couch, seeing the sag of his shoulders, the ale doing the job of relaxing him. It was beautiful, seeing Bucky be at total ease for the first time since they’d arrived at the cabin, and she grinned at him. “Alright, your turn. When was the last time you kissed someone?”

“Prague, 2008.”

Darcy’s face screwed up in confusion. When it dawned on her what he’d meant, she reached out and squeezed his knee. “I mean from before,” she said, voice soft, giving him an encouraging grin when he looked at her.

“Then it was February, 1945,” Bucky corrected, taking a drink before looking out the dark window over Steve's shoulder.

Biting her lip, nerves shaking and praying this went the way she wanted to and didn't blow up in her face, Darcy squeezed his knee again. “In your experience, was Steve a good kisser back then?” She watched both men’s head turn toward her in surprise. She carefully controlled the look on her face to keep it open, free of any kind of emotion other than honest interest.

“Why would you -”

“Oh come on,” Darcy said, frowning as she looked back and forth between the two of them. “I’m not blind. I have eyes. Two of them. In my head. And I’ve lived with you guys for half a year, so I’d like to think I’ve come to know you an okay amount, and I just can’t understand why you don’t just...” She gestured vaguely through the air with her hands.

Steve felt his heart beating heavy in his chest. He desperately wanted to look over at Bucky so he could analyze the expression on his best friend’s face, but his body had frozen in surprise and, if he was being honest, a little fear. “That was a long time ago,” Steve said, keeping his tone even. “A lot has happened since then.”

Darcy could see the look on Bucky’s face, a tsunami of emotions flashing behind those gray eyes of his, his jaw ticking as his teeth clenched. Terrified she’d gone too far, desperately wanting to fix the tension that she’d caused, Darcy reached out to grip Steve’s knee as well. “So?”

“I… I didn’t want to push,” Steve finished lamely, a sigh passing his lips, glaring down at the drink in his hand, feeling the warmth in his chest even as he felt the ice in his veins at admitting why he was afraid. It was one thing to deal with the questions on his own, but being faced with them and needing to explain his reluctance out loud was a whole different thing. Part of him wondered if he should have just denied it all, but it felt wrong to lie to Darcy, and now that it was in the air, there wasn’t a way to put it back in the bottle.

“You’re not pushing me, Steve. It’s not you,” Bucky said, his voice tight when Steve looked up at him and they locked gazes. “It's my fault. I’m… I’m somebody else now. I’m not the person I used to be.”

Steve turned on the sofa, his face falling at the pain in Bucky's tone. “That doesn’t matter to me, Buck. I’m not the same person either. I’ve gone through plenty myself.”

Bucky shook his head, setting his drink on the table beside him, tearing his eyes away from Steve. His emotions were in a freefall, worrying about the things that were floating to the surface. As much as he wanted to get back to what he had with Steve, he wasn't sure they could. They were different people now and he wasn't sure if it would be able to work like it had before. “I’m not saying you haven’t.”

“Bucky…”

“Steve, just -”

“Then why -”

“Because I’ve lost everything!” If Bucky’s outburst surprised either of them, Steve and Darcy made no indication, looking at him with soft eyes that for some reason made him feel worse. “I’ve lost everything, everything of who I was, everything I thought I was, but I’ve still got you. I’ve always had you. I can’t lose you again, Steve. I won’t survive it. I wouldn’t want to.”

“Buck…” Steve moved on the couch, reaching out so his fingers could press against Bucky’s chin, turning the other man’s head to look into the gray eyes that had been his only constant anchor since he was a child. “You’re not going to lose me. I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.”

The weight of emotions in his chest was too much, too heavy, and Bucky lifted his arm so his fingers could wrap around Steve’s wrist, a look of guarded tension on his face. “I don’t know how to be that person again. I don’t think I can.”

“Then I’ll learn to love the new parts just like I loved the old ones,” Steve said, putting the truth of it in his eyes so Bucky could see it. “You learned how to love me after the serum. About time I returned the favor.”

The air between the two of them felt charged with electricity, and the hairs on Bucky’s arms lifted the longer he looked into Steve’s eyes, so familiar and comfortable that he forgot why he’d been scared in the first place. After the serum, the changes in Steve had been immediate, but Bucky’d known he was still Steve beneath all the physical adjustments. Since they'd arrived at the cabin, Bucky felt more like the person he'd been before. Maybe it could be the same for him. Maybe he was just there, right under the surface, not exactly the same but near enough.

Steve’s eyes blinked heavily, gaze flicking down to Bucky's mouth when his pink tongue swiped along his pouting lower lip. When he looked back into Bucky's gray eyes, he saw the same desire he felt reflected in his best friend. The only man he’d ever loved. When Steve closed the distance between them, lips hesitating a fraction of a inch from his, Bucky took a deep breath inward, an avalanche of memories crashing through his mind, and when Steve pressed their lips together, a hungry sound echoed from his mouth into Steve’s, body moving like someone starved.

Heart beating out a dizzying rhythm, unsure if the room was spinning or if he was just feeling high from their kiss, Steve pulled Bucky closer with a hand behind his neck, fingers tangling in the long, dark strands, breathing labored as he deepened the kiss, tasting the ale on Bucky’s tongue. Body thrumming with electricity, Steve practically pulled Bucky into his lap, wanting to feel his weight, wanting to wrap his arms around Bucky’s shoulders and do all the things he’d been too afraid to do since he’d gotten his best friend back.

The amount of pretty in front of Darcy had caused her to hold her breath, waiting for the release of pressure to happen. When Steve and Bucky’s lips met, it was like the entire world breathed outward in relief. As they kissed, Darcy found herself unable to look away, watching the way they navigated the other’s body, years and years of memories making it like second nature. It was the expression in their eyes that brought tears to hers, and Darcy felt the first drop slip down her cheek. She knew part of it had to do with the amount of vodka in her system, but seeing both of them realize their hesitation had evaporated was like poetry, like the most satisfying conclusion to a story she could think of.

Her happiness waned when she continued to watch them, suddenly feeling like she was seeing something private and intimate. Her goal had been to break down the unnecessary wall between the two men, and now that it was, Darcy couldn’t help but feel like she was intruding, which she knew sounded pretty stupid considering how heavy handed she’d been with the whole ordeal, but as the two men moved against each other, a tightness took hold in her chest. Being as silent as she could, Darcy rose to her feet, setting her forgotten drink on the table. She froze when a hand reached out and fingers wrapped around her wrist, stopping her exit. She turned to look at Bucky, his gray eyes steady on hers, a look of vulnerability on his face.

“Don’t go,” Bucky breathed, watching the surprise rocket into her eyes. “You…” He struggled how to put his feelings into words, knowing what he was about to say didn’t make a lot of sense, but needing to say it anyway. “You make me stronger. Stay. Please.”

Steve watched uncertainty cross Darcy’s face, her lips parting in confusion. He glanced over at Bucky, seeing an exposed and unguarded expression on his face, and Steve was surprised to find himself looking up at Darcy with much the same in his own eyes. Since the day they’d arrived at the cabin and found themselves sharing space with her, Darcy had consistently made them feel better. Steve saw more of the old Bucky when she was near, casting some kind of spell and bringing them to the surface for air with what seemed like a super power all on its own. This was unlike anything he’d ever done, anything he’d ever dreamed of doing, but with the ale sitting warmly in his stomach, Steve didn’t scrutinize the desire he felt to keep Darcy beside them, just acknowledged that it was there and that he wanted it to stay that way. He reached out and grabbed Darcy’s other wrist, pulling on it softly, uncertain what was going to happen but knowing he wanted it to, all the same.

Darcy’s heart pounded at the look on their faces, wanting to argue and tell them that she’d just wanted them happy, that she hadn’t expected anything like this, but words had left her mouth and she wasn’t sure she’d have been able to speak even if she could. There was a fragility to Bucky’s expression, fear causing his pupils to dilate, and Darcy had the strong desire to make it disappear, to make him feel better. She had a split second of doubt, wondering if this was a good idea, kicking herself for not stopping, but then Bucky pulled her into his lap and reached up to tuck a wild curl of hair behind her ear.

Bucky let his eyes linger on Darcy’s lips, the red smudged from where she’d worried them with her teeth, then to her bright hazel eyes and the way they were wide as she looked at him, breath coming quickly. He didn’t know what he was doing, couldn’t explain why his brain had screamed to keep her near, but whether it was the ale or his kiss with Steve didn’t really matter. He realized with a start that while he’d been rebuilding his relationship with Steve, something completely new and unplanned for had grown inside him for Darcy. Something warm. Something safe. She made him feel lighter, like the weight of everything his hands had done had been erased, and he didn’t want to let that feeling go. She’d snuck up on him, but looking at her from so close, feeling her breath fan against his cheeks, it was useless to ignore the desire he felt swelling in his chest.

For all her flirting, all the double entendres and innuendos, having Bucky looking at her the way he was only succeeded in driving Darcy toward the edge. She’d been so busy plotting how to get the oblivious men to realize they were torturing themselves for no reason that she’d completely ignored almost everything else, especially her own attractions. She’d spent six months with Bucky and Steve, and ever since she’d found out they had a history, she’d wrapped them in a box and put them on the shelf of ‘pretty but impossible’. But there was a look in Bucky’s eyes that shook her, a look of want for her, and she wasn’t sure what to make of it. She worried that her lack of self control would tear apart the friendship they’d formed, and losing the boys now would be devastating. Their friendship had become so important to her so quickly, and she felt that affection in her chest, throbbing. She wasn’t sure what to do, pulled by both fear and attraction, and even though Bucky had expressed his feelings, Steve had been silent. Darcy would be crushed if she caused a rift between the two people she cared about so much. “But Steve -”

Steve cut her off with his lips and a hand cupping her cheek, kissing her before she had the option to argue. Her mouth was soft, and warm, and he could taste the sharpness of cranberry on her tongue. When he pulled back they were both breathing heavily, his blue gaze holding her hazel, a delicate look of surprise on both of their faces.

Bucky wrapped his arm around Darcy’s shoulders, capturing her lips when she looked over at him, feeling the same rush of hunger that he’d felt watching her and Steve kiss. He couldn’t explain why, but watching them come together had sped his heart faster, unsure what to make of the satisfaction that flowed through him at the sight. If he hadn’t been feeling the gentle buzz of their drinks, Bucky wasn’t sure he’d have been confident enough to act on his feelings, but he wasn’t going to fight the gratification that burned through him as they kissed.

Feeling like her stomach was in knots, a million emotions swelling in her chest, Darcy pulled back from Bucky, breath leaving her lungs in a rush. When Bucky and Steve just blinked at her, Darcy’s hands sifted through their hair until she could grip the back of their necks. Bolder than she would have been in the situation had she not been drinking, she pulled slightly, pulse thundering as she directed the two of them together, stomach flipping when they kissed at her insistence.

Darcy’d hit that point where it was either go all in or run away. For the briefest of moments, she stood on the precipice, looking over the edge, imagining how hard it would hurt if she landed. Darcy cared about Bucky and Steve, wanted to see them happy like they deserved to be, and the worry this would break something was there, but she found it hard to stop her hand when it ghosted down Bucky’s chest, wanting to feel the warmth of his skin against hers.

The feeling of kissing Steve was overwhelming, something he’d made peace with never happening again, and Bucky felt like he was floating, praying that this wasn’t some sick dream. When he pulled back, the blue eyes he’d memorized as a kid blinked at him, Steve’s lips turning up in a smile, an expression Bucky found himself mirroring. The feel of Darcy’s hands tugging on his shirt forced his gaze toward her, appreciating the pink tint to her cheeks, the attraction he could see in the depth of her eyes. He leaned forward to kiss her, to explore her mouth with his tongue, humming when he felt Steve take up the task she’d started, his nimble fingers making quick work of Bucky’s buttons.

As Darcy and Bucky kissed, their mouths working against each other, Steve watched in rapt attention, tracing the line of their jaws with his eyes, wanting to capture the vision in his sketchpad even though he knew he’d never do the moment justice. He tugged on Bucky’s shirt, pulling it free of his pants, baring the plains and lines of Bucky’s chest, Steve’s hunger increasing ten fold.

When Bucky hummed, Darcy’s tongue curled into his mouth before pulling back. Steve kissed down Bucky’s neck, paying special attention to the place where his neck met his shoulder. Bucky’s head fell back against the couch as he hissed his satisfaction, fingers tangling in Steve’s hair as the other man’s beard scratched along his skin. “Fuck, Steve,” Bucky growled, eyes screwing closed at the feeling.

Darcy found herself mesmerized by the two of them. Despite their desire for her to stay, she found herself content to sit back and watch their bodies come together, struck dumb at just the sight of them. Even if they never touched her again, what she was witnessing was more than enough to tear her apart. Blood was rushing through her body, throbbing and desperate, and she could do nothing but follow the current they’d found themselves in, uncertain what would come next.

Steve’s inhibitions seemed to have evaporated, whether due to the ale or lust he wasn’t sure, but he licked a line up Bucky’s chest before darting to his left, capturing Darcy’s lips, swallowing the sound of her surprise with his mouth, tongue seeking hers, wanting another taste. In the moment, given what was happening between the three of them, Steve was finally able to focus on Darcy and everything about her that he’d overlooked before; the way her curves reminded him of the pin-ups he and Bucky had grown up with; the way her hazel eyes shined when she was giving them a hard time; the pout of her bottom lip; the dark waves in her hair. He’d been so consumed with helping Bucky that he hadn’t allowed himself to acknowledge the attraction he’d felt for Darcy, who’d managed to tick off every box he had, and made new ones he hadn’t realized he wanted until her. He tried to put it all into their kiss, biting at her lips then soothing them with his tongue, pulling her closer with an arm around her waist, feeling her body melt against his.

Darcy felt the warmth of Bucky’s hand on the small of her back, fingers caressing through her dress, letting her know he was there with them, even as her mind threatened to blank completely at the way Steve was kissing her. She thought she’d been kissed before, but the attention Steve and Bucky paid her when their lips met was something else, overwhelming and all-encompassing, and just when she was sure she couldn’t take it anymore, Steve pulled back and his lips were replaced with Bucky’s.

Bucky shifted his hold on Darcy, pulling until she was pressed against his chest, legs spreading so she straddled him, dress pooling around her waist and baring the soft skin of her legs for his hands to explore. Feeling her weight on him was like some kind of balm, his body relaxing in satisfaction, and as they kissed he could feel Steve to his left, feeling Darcy's quick intake when Steve's mouth pressed to her neck. Wanting to watch them, Bucky broke contact with Darcy's mouth, eyes taking in the flush climbing up her chest, Steve's fingers tugging on the strap of her dress so more of her skin was bared for his lips to trace. As they broke apart, Bucky's left hand reached out and fisted in Steve's button-down, pulling the other man to him, needing his lips on Steve's.

Steve had already gone past the point of no return, realizing that what they were doing might shift the relationship between the three of them, but having no desire to stop and question any of it. He'd wanted Bucky since the second he'd laid eyes on him, all those years ago, and at some point in the past six months, he'd begun to want Darcy, too. Sure, the drink flowing through him played a part, but it couldn't create feelings that hadn't already been there. Steve could feel her hands working at the buttons to his shirt, her warm breath on his skin, and he smiled against Bucky's mouth, happily overwhelmed.

When Steve's lips left his, Bucky turned his attention to Darcy, both hands gripping her hips as he captured her mouth again, feeling her rise on her knees to get a better angle, humming her approval. He could feel Steve as he pulled the tails of his shirt out of his pants before slipping out of the thing completely. When Steve moved to help him do the same thing, he gratefully assisted, wanting to feel the warmth of their skin against his.

"Fuck," Darcy exhaled, hazel eyes flicking back and forth between the two men, brain practically melting down at the sight feast before her. She'd seen them shirtless before - hell, she'd been sleeping with Bucky for the better part of two months - but having them this close and sharing the desire that burned in her own chest was something completely different. She placed each of her hands on their chests, trailing her fingers over the dips and valleys of their abs, stopping at the top of their slacks and the small patch of soft hair peeking out. "This isn't real."

"It's real," Bucky said, mesmerized by the look on her face and the lovely tint to her skin, "and you look amazing, doll. Just gorgeous."

When Steve's finger slipped under the strap to her dress and pulled it aside, he was gifted with the sight of black lace and leaned forward to press his lips over the satin strap of her bra. He felt a shiver go up her spine, a sigh passing her lips as he followed a path up, peppering the line of her neck and collarbone with kisses, humming when her fingers tangled in his hair.

Feeling like she was being pulled in a million different directions, Darcy's head fell back, the scratch of Steve's beard burning in the best ways. A gasp broke from her chest when she felt Bucky thrust upward, her eyes snapping open at the sensation. She didn't have time to see his face, though, before Steve stole her mouth, another gasp sounding when his fingers dipped below the lace covering her, brushing over her nipple, groaning at the feel.

Bucky could have stayed there for hours, alternating between being kissed and watching Steve and Darcy kiss, but he wanted more. He wanted the slide of their skin over his, wanted to feel their weight holding him down, wanted to do all the things he hungered to do but had been too afraid to. When he shifted in his seat, Steve and Darcy broke apart, their hooded eyes swinging to look at him. There was something happening between the three of them, something he didn't completely understand, and as his gaze flicked back and forth between the two of them, Bucky didn't care how or why, he was just happy he recognized the same desire he felt reflected in their eyes.

Attributing the feeling of dizziness to the reality of what was happening and the speed of her heart, Darcy slipped from Bucky's lap, standing before him and Steve with a bare look of hunger on her face. She held a hand out to each of them, red lips parted as she tried to slow her breath, hoping they saw the invitation for what it was. While she was warm, and fuzzy, the last thing she wanted was to do something they'd regret tomorrow. The friendship she'd formed with these men was important to her and the thought of hurting them or causing them any kind of pain sobered her thoughts dramatically.

If they took her hands and this moved to the bedroom, she wanted it to be with full knowledge, everyone accepting and agreeing to whatever happened. Even with the fear that this would change things in ways that couldn't be undone, as she stared at Bucky and Steve, Darcy didn't care. The incredible, unquenchable appetite that had taken over was like nothing she'd ever felt before. In the morning light, when the weight of what this meant pressed down at her, things might feel different, but right that second, she couldn't imagine wanting anything more.

Bucky looked over at Steve, searching the other man's eyes for some kind of reaction, some kind of approval. He'd been the one to ask Darcy to stay, and even though Steve appeared more than happy to take part, Bucky wanted there to be no questions as to what Steve was agreeing to. He blinked at Steve, looking for any hesitation, any reservation. When he saw none, Bucky reached out to grip Steve's hand, and the two men climbed to their feet.

There was a split second when all three of them joined hands, a tiny moment when it could have stopped, when they could have expressed their want to slow things down, but none of them said anything, their thoughts echoing each other.

Whatever spell had been cast seemed to take hold and the three of them moved at once. When Bucky scooped her into his arms, Darcy went willingly, wrapping her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist, mouths crashing together. Steve molded himself against Bucky's back, stretching his arms so he could feel the soft fabric of Darcy’s dress. Bucky groaned as he pulled his lips from Darcy's, chin dipping as he breathed through the shock of lust, feeling Steve pressed hard against his back. He nudged his nose across Darcy's collarbone, tongue dipping into the hollow, hearing her gasp as Steve leaned in and took control of her lips.

It was no easy feat, moving the three of them toward the bedroom, but Bucky tried hard, only having to stop once to turn his head, kissing Steve with a frantic energy, having gone too long without Steve's taste in his mouth. Bucky stopped in the middle of the hall, eyes fluttering closed when Darcy's lips kissed the side of his neck, sucking softly before running her tongue over the skin, soothing. "Which room?"

"Don't care," Darcy gasped, hands reaching past Bucky's shoulders and sifting through the honey-strands of Steve's hair, gripping tightly and earning a heated moan from the blond. "They're the same size."

"Yeah, not big enough," Steve growled, his dark chuckle joined with one from Bucky.

"Just get me on a fucking bed," Darcy rasped, squeezing her legs around Bucky.

"Yes ma'am," Bucky said, ignoring the offended snort Darcy made in his ear. He pushed open the door to his and Steve's room, unsurprised to find that his best friend had made the bed. He had very little time to find it adorable before Steve crashed against his back again, the warmth of the other man's skin on his like an addiction Bucky thought he'd gotten his last hit of. He was careful of Darcy's sore ankle, setting her carefully on the bed before turning so he could kiss Steve properly, fingers digging into the blond's back, hands sliding down until he hit the top of Steve’s slacks and the leather of his belt.

Steve's heart hammered in his chest, pulling Bucky's bottom lip between his teeth and biting softly, swallowing the groan that flowed into his mouth. Bucky tasted exactly like Steve remembered, spicy and familiar and home. He felt hands on his belt buckle, surprised when he opened his eyes to find Darcy kneeling on the mattress, arms wrapping around Bucky to pull him closer so she could work on the latch. Bucky's head fell back, resting on Darcy's shoulder, eyes screwed shut. Steve grinned at the look of abandon on his best friend's face. he caught Darcy's eyes, watching as a knowing smirk curled her lips. It was nothing to lean forward and steal her mouth, the warmth of Bucky's body pressed between them.

Darcy pulled the belt from Steve's pants with a flourish, laughing softly as she threw it to the floor. She let out a gasp as Bucky slid to the right and Steve wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her body until it smacked against his, a satisfied sound escaping her lips when he laid her back on the bed, slipping his body between her knees. She ran her nails down Steve's back, feeling his body shudder under her hands, moaning when he fit against her perfectly. "Oh god," she gasped, fingers tangling in Steve's hair, gripping it tighter, eyes rolling back when he began to move down her body, beard scratching over her skin deliciously. "Steve!"

As Steve paid Darcy the attention she deserved, Bucky rid himself of his pants and briefs before crawling so he could lay on his side, pressing lips to Steve’s shoulder, eyes lingering on the way Steve’s muscles moved under his skin. It was beautiful, like poetry, like a million other gorgeous things that still fell short in comparison. Darcy’s hands were tight in Steve’s hair as the blond lowered himself down her body, pressing kisses to her stomach through her dress.

Steve looked up the line of Darcy’s body, a dark smirk turning his lips when she locked gazes, his normal cornflower blue eyes darkening to something closer to cobalt. He felt a thread of desire like a rubber band, pulled taut and threatening to snap at any second. He wasn’t sure he’d survive being pulled between Darcy and Bucky, but he was willing to take the risk. He crawled back up Darcy’s body when she pulled on his hair, a noise of surprise sounding when she turned them, knees open so she could straddle him, curls wild around her shoulders.

Darcy blinked down at Steve, her cheeks warm, in disbelief that this was really happening. She’d have been lying if she denied thinking about what Steve or Bucky looked like beneath their clothes - or spread out on a bed below her - but since the second she’d realized they had history, she’d been firmly in the ‘Get Them Together’ camp, in which she was president, vice president, and treasurer. She had never imagined something like this happening, and the lustful desire she felt for the two men was more than she could hope to understand.

When Bucky rose to his knees beside her, she melted against him as they kissed, Darcy’s heart beating like crazy. She shouted into Bucky’s mouth when Steve’s hips pumped upward into her, the friction mind-numbing but somehow not enough. When Bucky pulled back, shifting so he was behind her, Darcy looked back toward Steve, her hands splayed on his chest, keeping her upright.

It took very little to slip the straps of Darcy’s dress down, the fabric hanging loosely around her elbows, and Bucky used the opportunity to twist his fist in the dress, tightening until her arms were held tight to her sides, trapped there, unable to move, at his and Steve’s mercy. The thought sent a thrill up his spine, and he pressed his lips against the side of her neck.

Steve saw a flash of panic in Darcy’s eyes when she realized she couldn’t move, but it disappeared just as quickly, her chest heaving as she sucked in a lungful of air. His eyes flicked down, the lace covering her like something out of a dream, all that black against her milky white skin. Steve sat up so he could trace that lace edge with his tongue before he sucked one nipple into his mouth through the fabric, satisfied when he earned a loud gasp.

“Fuck,” Darcy breathed, overwhelmed by the attention the boys were giving her. She felt greedy for their skin, for the feel of them pressed against her, but her goal had been getting them together, which meant she was failing. Bucky seemed to sense her hesitation, loosening her dress so she could shift herself away from Steve. When the blond moved to follow, Darcy pressed a hand to his shoulder and pushed him back to the mattress. She’d already gotten rid of his belt, but his pants still being on was quickly becoming a problem. Eyes catching Bucky’s, she nodded toward Steve. “Help a girl out?”

“Whatever you want,” Bucky said, tongue swiping along his bottom lip, taking an eyeful of Darcy’s chest while he could. When Steve writhed on the bed, Bucky recognized the movement, a small smirk turning his lips. He knew how impatient Steve could be when it came to this kind of teasing, and the familiar sight was enough to make him pause, the lust he felt being momentarily replaced with gratitude. Bucky hadn’t imagined getting to do this, to be this, again, not after everything he’d done, and the moment’s importance weighed down heavily. He sat back on his heels, blinking past the emotion that had sprung to his eyes and tightened his chest.

Darcy sensed a change in Bucky, his eyes turning toward something closer to tears, and she reached out to grasp his hand. “Hey, you’re okay,” she said, giving him a small smile when he glanced at her, squeezing his hand tightly. She couldn’t imagine what this was like for him, getting to be with Steve again, and if he’d needed her there to be comfortable, then she was going to do the best she could.

Bucky wasn’t sure how she did that, realizing what he needed to hear and when, but Darcy had been doing it since the day they’d arrived. He tugged on her hand, pressing his lips to hers softly, not as hungry as before but still full of meaning. Darcy pulled back and they shared a smile before they began moving at the same time.

It took very little to pop the button on Steve’s slacks, even less to pull down the zipper, and after they’d finished undressing him, Darcy sat back on her heels, mouth falling open. “Fuck,” she said, hazel eyes taking in the statuesque man in front of her, her body throbbing with want, “jesus.”

“That was one thing the serum had nothing to do with,” Bucky breathed, Steve’s eyes blinking slowly as he and Darcy looked their fill.

“You mean…?”

"Yeah, doll. it's always been that perfect."

When she’d been in her ‘I don’t know what to do with my life’ phase, Darcy had taken a few art history classes. In addition to giving her a few credits and the realization that art was not her passion, the classes had introduced her to some of the greatest works from all over the world. And damn them all to hell if Steve wasn’t more beautiful than they could ever be. As a pink flush moved up Steve’s chest and neck, Darcy looked over at Bucky, wondering how both of them could be perfect in different ways.

Steve looked back and forth between Bucky and Darcy, desperate to have their hands on him again, practically vibrating with want. When he saw the smirk on Bucky’s face, he lifted his head and glared. “How about you shut up and put that mouth of yours to good use?”

The chuckle that shook Bucky’s shoulders was dark and full of knowledge, and Darcy reached out to Bucky again, drawing his eyes. “Show me what he likes?”

A jolt of lust spread through Bucky’s stomach at the look on Darcy’s face, realizing she asked because she wanted to know, because she wanted to treat Steve right. It was so strong, the swell in his chest, that Bucky closed the distance between them again, Steve’s hands trailing down their sides as they kissed. When they separated there were smirks on both their faces, a shared mission that they knew was going to tear Steve apart, wanting to make him see stars.

Steve tried to keep them in sight, lifting his head so he could watch them slide down his body, but the first touch of Bucky’s hand on his cock forced his head back against the mattress, a strangled “fuck!” tearing from Steve’s throat. When he felt the warm fan of their breath on his skin, Steve’s hands fisted in the blanket, the anticipation nearly killing him.

“Right here,” Bucky instructed, recognizing the look in Darcy’s eyes as one she adopted when studying her caselaw, focused and determined to do her best. She nodded, eyes moving from Steve, to Bucky, then back. “This little bit of skin. Watch.”

The sight of Bucky running his tongue over Steve was enough to curl Darcy’s toes, her breath coming out in a pant, sure she’d never seen something so erotic, so utterly and devastatingly hot. She felt her stomach clench with desire, a throbbing between her legs that she desperately wanted to take care of, but since she’d asked for this torture, it was only fair to follow through. When Bucky lifted his head, Darcy lowered hers, drawing the tip of Steve’s cock into her mouth, running her tongue along the ridge like Bucky had done.

“Oh fuck, fuck, yeah. Right there, sweetheart, don’t stop,” Steve growled, hands freezing when he heard the ripping of fabric, too far gone to really care that he might have fisted a hole in the blanket. When Darcy continued to work her lips up and down his shaft, Steve lifted his head, watching when her eyes blinked open and looked over at Bucky for more instruction, whose hand was around his own cock, moving up and down slowly.

“Use your hand there,” Bucky breathed, voice soft and dark, arousal making it lower. His fingers sifted through Darcy’s hair so he could grip it, helping her along, jaw ticking as he tried to keep himself from taking another step toward the edge, not wanting this to end too soon. He’d waited a lifetime to have Steve back, and he didn’t want their second first time to be over before it’d begun. “Yeah, doll, just like that. Hear him? He loves it.”

Darcy felt absolutely no embarrassment as she worked Steve in and out of her mouth, cupping his balls with her left hand while the right one wrapped around the base of his cock. There was no way to take him into her mouth completely without there being gagging issues, but she moved her hand in tandem with her lips, so the whole of him was surrounded in wet warmth. Bucky’s hand in her hair left her shivering and she let him take control of her movements, increasing then going slow, working Steve to the precipice then drawing him back.

“Shit, fuck, Darcy, your mouth feels amazing, fuck,” Steve babbled, hips thrusting upward on their own, chasing after her tongue, desperate.

Letting him fall from her lips, Darcy sat back, taking in the picture of Steve straining against the mattress, pulled to pieces by just her mouth and hands. When his eyes fluttered open, she held his gaze, trying to show him with her eyes how beautiful she thought he was, how lucky she felt at getting to see him like this, vulnerable and needy and gorgeous. “How do you want to do this?” At Bucky questioning look, she dipped her head toward him and Steve, chewing on her bottom lip.

Realizing what she was asking, Bucky glanced over at Steve, the blond looking sloppy in all the best ways. There was a silent conversation between the two men, an agreement on what they wanted to happen and where they wanted to draw the line. Bucky knew they were in the haze of sex right now, and it would have been incredibly easy to follow through with their base desires and fuck until they couldn’t see straight, but some semblance of an inner voice cautioned restraint.

As if they’d planned it, Bucky and Steve moved at the same time. They worked together to rid Darcy of her dress, until she was bare and beautiful, her curves soft and gorgeous. Bucky cupped her breasts, feeling their weight, running his thumb over her nipples until they stood firm. He kissed her deeply, taking his time, waiting to pull back until she’d melted against him, sighing happily into his mouth. Pulling away was hard, but he managed it, gray eyes lingering on her face as her eyes stayed closed, lips parted and breathing heavy.

Steve scooted down the bed, piling pillows beneath his head, feeling Bucky move at his right. He reached for Darcy’s hand, pulling until he could press his lips to hers. “You fine working me over while I work him?” The smile that bloomed on her face was radiant, and Steve was struck by how gorgeous she was. There’d been no hesitation in her, no signs of doubt, just the excited expression of someone who was more than willing, and as Darcy began to kiss her way down his body, Steve closed his eyes and thanked whatever deity had gifted him and Bucky with Darcy Lewis.

Looking up the line of Steve’s body tightened things low in Darcy’s stomach, the visuals just shy of unbelievable. Bucky had put himself near Steve’s head, on his knees, hand wrapped around himself and stroking slowly. Their bodies were stupid hot, but it was the little things that Darcy noticed most. Bucky brushed hair away from Steve’s forehead, a look of anticipation curling his lips. Steve stared up at Bucky as if he was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and Darcy wasn’t going to argue with him, though she’d have said Steve was just as stunning.

Bucky's eyes were in a constant circuit, flicking between Steve and Darcy, unsure which one was more mind-numbingly amazing. Darcy's chin bumped Steve's cock and the blond almost jumped out of his skin, the gasp parting his lips enough that Bucky slid his thumb into Steve's mouth, earning the other man's gaze, shivering in anticipation when Steve's tongue circled his finger. Casting a look down at Darcy left his mouth dry; her eyes held a look of rapt attention, and as she knelt between Steve's legs, Bucky's heart pounded that much harder, sped on by the darkly sensual look on her face. When her attention flicked back up toward him, they shared a long look, both of them smiling, both of them determined to pull Steve apart.

It took nothing to slip her lips around Steve again, running her tongue along the ridge like Bucky had showed her, the velvet skin warm and perfect. Steve's exhale of air was like music, like her favorite song playing over and over, and she was desperate to make him babble, wanting to make it impossible for him to have any doubts how sexy she found him, how utterly and devastatingly perfect he was. Her eyes rolled up when Steve's cry was muffled, breath hitching as she watched Bucky position himself just right, pushing softly between Steve's lips, his own parted as he hissed.

"Fuck, Steve," Bucky groaned, overwhelmed by the feel of Steve's mouth, the warm wet heaven he'd thought he'd lost, a tsunami of memories filling his head, when this had been the only beauty he'd seen, when it'd been just him and Steve against the rest of the world. Some things were different, but others were exactly the same, and the knowledge that he got to experience Steve's love again was everything. Steve's lashes fluttered against his cheeks as he drew more of Bucky's cock into his mouth, feeling a hum, attention turning to Darcy and what she was doing to Steve to cause such a response.

Steve was pulled in two directions, fires at both ends but loving the burn, and if his mouth hadn't been wrapped around Bucky's cock, he'd have shouted as Darcy grew up to a perfect rhythm. Not too fast, not to slow, just enough to make him see white stars behind his eyes. The feel of Bucky on his tongue was more than he could put into words, more than words would ever be able to explain, and he opened his eyes to look up at Bucky, holding his gray gaze, seeing the first thread of tension as he continued to draw Bucky in and out of his mouth.

Bucky couldn't look away from Steve, the way his lips moved, the way his beard only heightened his sensitivity, hips thrusting on their own, wanting Steve to take more of him, wanting to feel the back of Steve's throat. He tangled his fingers in Steve's honey strands, working himself in and out, taking control so he could set the pace. It only took a slight turn of his head to glance at Darcy, growing harder at the sight of what she was doing to Steve, marveling at the idea that they could share him. He'd always been jealous of someone else getting Steve's time, but it was different with Darcy. He didn't have to worry that she was going to steal Steve away, didn't have to worry about her not understanding what they had and what it meant. She already knew everything, and still she was there, making them feel comfortable, making them feel right.

There was an impatience to Steve's movements, his hips bucking up into her mouth, and Darcy had to press a hand to his lower stomach to keep him still. When she glanced upward and saw Bucky's careful, steady pace, she slowed herself as well, wanting to draw this out, wanting Steve to scream before she gave him the release he was searching for. Her right hand was wrapped around the base of Steve, lips meeting her fingers before starting up again, but her left snaked down the front of her body, unsurprised by the moisture that coated her fingers as she slid between her slick folds, circling her clit, feeling the first flutter in the pit of her stomach.

Steve wasn't coming out of this alive, not when Bucky was stretching his lips so beautifully, not with Darcy humming her happiness around him. It was slow, but he could feel his orgasm building, not wanting this to end but feeling tortured by them, wanting a release for the torrential pressure he felt inside. It had been so long since he'd been touched like this, since he'd touched anyone else like this, that the waves cresting in him were too high, too much to fight against. When Bucky's hands tightened in his hair, Steve groaned around his cock, hips thrusting into Darcy's mouth, tasting his release on the back of his tongue, salivating and circling higher.

Darcy took everything Steve wanted to give her, cupping him, trying to keep pace with his hips. She could tell he was close, the constant stream of muffled cries one sure sign, but it was the tension in his body that spoke volumes, the way his abs clenched as he breathed. Darcy took as much as she could, feeling his cock sliding further, the skin throbbing on her tongue, and when his thrusting grew chaotic, she urged him on, tongue curling around him, hand squeezing then turning, desperate to make him come.

Bucky knew the second Steve came, the other man's shout around his cock muffled but its intensity clear. He watched Darcy's throat as it worked, taking every drop, and Bucky felt a jolt of electricity chase up his spine when she locked eyes with him, hooded and happy and so gorgeous that it made him screw his shut. "Yeah," he growled, tightening his hold on Steve's hair, "that's it. Scream it, you've both got me so hot."

The racing of his heart and the satisfaction of his relief left Steve seeing stars exploding. As he tried to slow his breathing, body still shaking with aftershocks, Steve could do little else, humming with his lips around Bucky, shuddering when Darcy's tongue lapped at him, cleaning him. He moaned when she pulled back, the mattress shifting beneath as she rearranged herself on the bed, scooting until she was laid out beside him, hazel eyes bright, cheeks still flushed with pink. He was still coming down from his own orgasm when he felt Bucky's hips pick up speed, working himself in and out at a steady rhythm.

An expression of abandon had taken up residence on Bucky's face and as Darcy watched him slip between Steve's lips, she slid her hands down her body, one rolling a nipple between her fingers while the other brushed over herself with practiced ease, certain she'd never seen anything as hot as the two men in front of her. They were like a dream, like a vision, too perfect to be real, too erotic to exist. When Bucky began moving faster, so did she, wanting to fall right behind them, wanting to taste Bucky on Steve's lips when they kissed. Her body began shaking, so close that she couldn't take it. "Bucky," she hissed, watching his eyes flick to her, to what she was doing, his lips parting as he sucked in air.

He'd already been on the edge, but watching Darcy fall by her own hand pushed Bucky over, growling Steve's name as he came, hearing Darcy's shout that followed. Steve kept moving, tongue curling, until it was too sensitive and Bucky had to backup, dropping from between Steve's lips with a sound of loss. He collapsed onto his side on the bed, a sheen of sweat on his skin, seeing Steve's glistening as well. The pile was warm, and tired, and perfect, and it took all his strength to roll onto his side so he could face Steve, smirking at the blissed-out look on his best friend's face. "Wow."

"Mmmhmm," Darcy echoed, curling onto her side so she could drape an arm across Steve's stomach, running fingernails down Bucky's bare shoulder. When he shivered at the touch, a small laugh fell from her lips, catching his eye and grinning tiredly.

"I don't think I can move," Steve hummed, his eyes still closed, feeling languid and spent and a million other things that added up to the fact that he was gone, floating on a cloud of satisfaction.

"Yeah. Ditto. I mean, fuck." It wasn't the most thought out sentiment, but it was about all Darcy could handle.

"To answer your question from before, Darce," Bucky said with a sigh of contentment, "Steve is an amazing kisser."

"Yeah, Buck, I kinda picked up on that."

Steve's laughter was joined by Bucky and Darcy's, the three of them somehow making it under the covers of the queen-sized bed, arms and legs entwined. Sleeping with both of them was different than sleeping with just Bucky, but it was still comfortable, and it took very little time until their breaths evened out and exhaustion took hold.

The creak of a floorboard made Darcy freeze, a pancake hanging precariously on the spatula she held in her hand. When the door to Steve and Bucky's room was opened and the door to the bathroom closed, she let out the breath she'd been holding, flipping the pancake onto the skillet so the other side could brown. There was a veritable pile of pancakes on a platter behind her, at least thirty of them stacked high on the kitchen island. She'd needed something for her hands to do so her brain could replay everything that had happened the previous night. The memories were visceral, parts of her body tightening at just the thought of what they'd done.

They. What she'd done to Bucky and Steve, and what they'd done to her.

She'd gone into the night with one set mission: give the boys a little push in the right direction, facilitate a break down of their walls, and watch happily as they realized their hesitation toward being together was unnecessary. She was certain the ale Thor had sent helped with her task, but just when she thought her work was done, everything had been turned on its head, her own obliviousness hitting her like a ton of bricks. It's not like I don't find them attractive, because hello just fucking look at them, but that was…

Another shiver traveled up Darcy's spine. Bucky had said she made him stronger, and that's what she was going to try being. Strong. She knew what the end score was going to be in this game, and though it was clear to her that she'd not come out of this with the W, at least she'd gotten one good, lust-filled night with two of the hottest men on the planet. How often did people get to say that and have it be true? Bucky needed me to be there, to help him get comfortable, and now that he is, I've just got to take a graceful step back.

Jaw clenching with determination, Darcy refused to let everything she'd built with the boys turn to dust. She'd be their friend, just like she'd always been, and she wouldn't let it get weird. She'd had one night stands before. This was a smidge more complicated than those, but she could handle it. She could handle it. Her hazel eyes flicked up when the bathroom door opened, able to tell it was Steve by the way he walked. She pointedly looked down at the skillet when he made his way into the kitchen.

Head feeling fuzzy, assuming it had to do with what he’d imbibed the previous night, Steve had hoped brushing his teeth would push him closer to feeling normal. He didn't think he was truly hungover, but since he'd never been hungover before, he couldn't be sure. Steve's steps slowed when his eyes flicked toward Darcy, watching as she checked on the status of one of the massive pancakes she was making. The t-shirt she'd put on was torn and ratty, nearly see-through in places, but he didn't have to imagine her curves beneath the shirt she was wearing because he knew what she looked like. As memories of the previous night rewound in his head, Steve took a seat at the island, watching her as she worked, noting the slight tension between her shoulder blades, and her careful, measured movements. "That's a lot of pancakes," he said when the silence had stretched on without relief.

Wisps of hair that had fallen out of her bun floated around her head when Darcy spun toward Steve, spatula held in her hand. "I know, but I figured you guys would be hungry, I mean, since you two can eat so much. When you're hungry. Needing calories and what not." She managed to keep the grimace and disbelief off her face, but inside she was dying. Could you be anymore awkward? Reign it in, Lewis!

"I could eat," Steve said, tone neutral. He recognized the look in Darcy's eyes, the one that said she was building up to say something. It'd happened often when they first started living together, when things were still new and they didn't know each other that well. Now, though, he could tell she was still gathering her thoughts. He didn't want to push her, didn't want her to balk, and so he just watched her as she went on her tiptoes to grab him a plate out of the cabinet. His eyes lingered on her legs, her skin milky and perfect, glad that he had enough time to tear his gaze away before she turned back to him.

Darcy held the plate out in Steve's direction. When the soldier moved to take it from her, Darcy pulled it back before he could grab it, her eyebrows knitting together as she gave him a vulnerable look. "Last night was... it was what it was, you know? I didn't expect that and I just don't... I don't want anything to come between us, so I just wanted to make sure we're good. We're good, right? You didn't, like, do things because you thought you had to?"

Steve straightened his spine, his eyes widening softly. "What? No! I didn't. Nothing happened last night that I didn't want to happen. Did you...?"

"No! No no no. I was good to go. Metaphorically speaking. And literally, I guess. Last night was one for the books." At Steve's soft laugh, Darcy's shoulders sagged in relief and she finally handed him a plate. "Okay. Good. Well, that's great. Awesome. So we're good?"

Though her words sounded confident, there was a look in her eyes that said she wasn't one-hundred-percent sure. Steve took the plate with a smile, nodding at her, wanting to say the right thing. "We're good," he reassured her, glad when she returned his smile.

Darcy turned back to the skillet feeling infinitely better, grinning down at the pancake as it bubbled. What had happened between her and the boys wasn't going to ruin anything. Their hearts were too big to let a little drunken fun destroy their friendships. As long as everyone was clear what it had been and what it meant, they were golden. She'd accomplished her mission of bringing the boys together and she'd gotten one amazing, incredible, ohmygodtheyareperfect night of fun out of the deal. It was something she could live with.

Waking up in bed with Bucky had been one of the greatest feelings, Steve's entire body humming with satisfaction, almost needing to pinch himself to make sure it was real. As the warmth grew in his chest, his brain had reminded him that they weren't the only ones who'd fallen asleep in their bed and that a lot more had happened the previous night than just that. When he tried to rationalize what had occurred, Steve had needed to break it down to digest completely. There was a small list of facts, and as he poured syrup on his pancakes, he repeated them in his head.

1) Bucky still wanted to be with him.
2) He still wanted to be with Bucky.
3) Bucky had asked Darcy to stay when she'd tried to leave.
4) The three of them had sex.

Other than those four points, everything about last night had filled him with questions. Questions he wasn't sure he had the ability to answer on his own. He was hopeful that whatever wall had been between him and Bucky had been chipped at. He wasn't naive enough to know that everything was fine between them, because he knew that it wasn't and that they'd have a lot of things to figure out. Still, it had been a move in the right direction and Steve was more than happy to take their time, rebuilding what they'd lost. He hoped Bucky felt the same way, a hope he was almost certain of, after the previous night's events.

The other part was a little more complicated. Bucky asking Darcy to stay had brought with it an avalanche of questions and realizations that Steve hadn't been expecting. On the face, he completely understood: Bucky had asked Darcy to stay because, ever since they'd arrived, she had gone out of her way to make them comfortable. Bucky was able to open up to her when it seemed like no one else could reach the soldier. The fact that Bucky felt safe enough to sleep next to her just illustrated the absolute truth that Darcy was special. She was kind, and funny. She never did anything half-way, and gave one-hundred-percent of herself to whatever task had been put before her. She'd agreed to move into the middle of the woods in a foreign country so she could babysit two super soldiers while simultaneously working to find a solution that would let them return home.

Darcy Lewis was amazing. He could add that to the list of facts he'd come up with, but it was more than that. When Bucky had asked Darcy to stay, something had shifted in Steve. Darcy had shifted in him. Things he'd acknowledged then pushed aside over the past six months were suddenly like new things he'd just discovered. Darcy's laugh was one of the greatest he'd ever heard, especially when it was joined with Bucky's. While her habit for running around the cabin in just a shirt and underwear had been a source of amusement before, now he couldn't stop himself from remembering what she'd looked like straddling him, thighs squeezing, curves beneath his hands. Darcy could be so careful with Bucky when it was called for, but also treated him like he was a person and refused to coddle him unnecessarily. She could give just as good as she got, and Steve had never felt like she judged either him or Bucky by what they'd done, but accepted them as they were. It was amazing. Darcy Lewis was amazing.

... but what did that mean? While Steve could argue that he and Bucky still had a lot to talk about, there was a whole new conversation that would be needed now, one that included Darcy and how she fit into their lives. Or did they need to talk at all? She'd gone back to making her pancakes, whistling softly to herself, and while she'd acknowledged what had happened and appeared to be okay with it, there were things that needed to be discussed. What did Bucky want to happen next? Had what happened last night just been the thrill, something that would never happen again? How was Steve supposed to look at Darcy and see anything but the possibility she was?

Feeling no closer to any of his answers, Steve's eyes swung to the left when a door down the hall was pulled open, the only other person in the cabin finally waking up. The fact that Bucky had slept the whole night through was just another indication that what had happened last night was real and had been, in some ways, cathartic for Bucky. Cathartic for Steve, as well, and he couldn't help but wonder if Darcy was struggling more than she was letting on, or if maybe it hadn't meant that much to her at all. No, Steve thought as he watched Bucky pad his way into the kitchen, mouth open wide as he yawned, that isn't who Darcy is. It meant something.

The look on Steve's face made Bucky come to a stop, an emotion in the blue of his best friend's eyes indicating something was happening, something he wasn’t sure of yet. Bucky's gaze flicked to Darcy, watching as she flipped a pancake then looked over at him with a smile. When his eyes slid back to Steve's, it was with a questioning eyebrow. While Steve and Bucky were known for having conversations with just their expressions, this was one of the times when Bucky knew words would be needed. There was an uncertainty in Steve's gaze and it furrowed Bucky's brows. Turning back to Darcy, he pointed at the stack of pancakes.

"I know, I know," Darcy said before Bucky could comment, "it's a lot of pancakes, but it's not like you boys won't eat them, and we can always freeze them to have later. Just eat the damn pancakes, Barnes, and stop giving me a hard time."

Bucky slipped onto the stool at the island next to Steve, watching Darcy move around the kitchen with practiced ease, trying to figure out what was wrong. "You okay, doll?" He felt Steve's exasperated exhale of breath, sure that just blurting out the question hadn't been the method he'd have preferred.

"Oh, yeah, Steve and I already talked," Darcy said as she flipped off the stove, grabbing a plate for Bucky and herself. After handling one to Bucky, she hopped onto the island, leaving her legs dangling as she pulled two pancakes for herself.

"Talked about what?"

"About what happened last night. We're all good." She focused on getting the syrup on every bit of pancake, more than was necessary but how she always ate them. It’d gone silent in the kitchen, and she glanced up to find both boys looking at her. “What?”

“What do you mean we’re good?”

Pancake forgotten, Darcy rested her plate on her thighs. “Last night. It was great. Really.”

“But…?”

Darcy frowned at Steve’s words. “No but.”

“It was great, really, but…?”

The look of confusion on Bucky’s fact matched the one on Steve’s, and Darcy felt the immediate desire to ease their expressions. “Guys. There is no but. It was great. I mean, you two…” she whistled low, shaking her head softly, “I’d give you each a high five if it didn’t feel a little weird, but I get it.”

Steve set his fork on his plate, hands dropping to his lap as he looked at her. “What do you get, because I’m not understanding.”

A flash of realization struck in Darcy’s head and her eyes widened in surprise. It was easy to forget that Bucky and Steve hadn’t grown up in the age of ‘Netflix and Chill’. She knew they weren’t completely oblivious, and for all Darcy knew there had been plenty of threesomes going on in the 1940s, but something had been lost in translation.

“I know why Bucky asked me to stay,” she said, giving them a small grin, “and like I said, it was awesome, but you don’t have to worry about me. We were all just a little lost in the sauce. I know what you guys have and I have absolutely no desire to come between you two, I promise.”

“Oh,” Steve said, tearing his eyes from Darcy and looking back down at his plate.

The look on Steve’s face made her frown, not sure how what she said would make him feel bad, and Darcy rushed to soothe her words. “I just don’t want it to come between us as friends. I really care about you two, you know that right?”

“We do,” Bucky said, stabbing three pancakes with his fork and dragging them to his plate, his face carefully neutral, his tone even.

“Good,” Darcy said with a sigh of relief, her shoulders sagging as she lifted her plate, “good. After lunch I was going to take a shower and head into town. Do we need anything?” At the shake of their heads, she smiled, digging into her pancakes.

Chapter Text

When the sun rose on Monday, Steve and Bucky followed their same morning routine: wake up for a run through the woods that surrounded the cabin, showers, then breakfast. The chore chart (which the boys had followed meticulously because they’d rather avoid a testy Darcy) showed that it was Steve’s turn to make the meal, so he set about the task while Bucky showered. Before long, a large bowl of oatmeal and fresh cut fruit was placed on the table and Steve sat beside it, reading over the last newspaper Darcy had brought for him.

Darcy emerged from her room, eyes still heavy with sleep, and leaned against the wall beside the bathroom, waiting for Bucky to finish. When the door was pulled open, Darcy blinked past the steam that drifted out, gaze landing on Bucky, who was standing in the doorway, staring at her. When he didn’t move, she raised an eyebrow. “You use all the hot water?”

“No,” Bucky said with a shake of his head, wet hair sliding over his shoulders.

Darcy reached out to pat Bucky’s chest sleepily. “Good, then I don’t have to kill you.”

Bucky stood there a second as Darcy’s hand lingered on his skin, her touch somehow warmer than the hot shower he’d just had. He wondered if he should say something, but he could see the sleep in her eyes, and he knew better than to start a conversation before she was fully awake yet.

When Bucky just continued to stare at her, Darcy poked him with her finger in the arm. “You gonna let me pass, or do I have to pay a toll?”

Moving in silence, Bucky slipped past Darcy and into the hallway. He glanced over his shoulder to see her close the door, the sound of the shower starting seconds later. Frowning at the flush of uncertainty in his chest, Bucky crossed the hall and shut the door, trying to understand why a cloud of anxiety seemed to be hovering over his head.

Steve ate in silence, listening to Darcy hum as she got ready for work, unsurprised that Bucky hadn’t emerged from their room after his shower. Steve’d been able to feel the tension in his best friend and had a good idea why it was there, but talking it out would need to wait - Steve glanced at the clock above the front door - for at least another fifteen minutes. His blue eyes flicked up when Darcy stopped in the hallway, propping herself up against the threshold to the kitchen as she pulled on one of her shoes. “I made breakfast,” he offered, pushing a bowl in her direction.

“That looks really, really good, but I’m already running late. Didn’t sleep well last night.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve said with a frown. “Any reason why?”

“Oh, you know, just my insomnia-addled mind reliving every embarrassing thing I’ve ever done in minute, excruciating detail,” she answered with a shrug. “I’ll take some of the fruit with me, though.”

“Sure.” As she kept gathering her things, movements speedy and rushed, Steve stood and crossed into the kitchen. He pulled a plastic container from a cabinet then made his way to to the table, dumping a good portion of the fruit inside and fitting the lid on top.

As she came to a stop next to the front door, Steve watched her cast one more glance around the room before finally looking up to him, then the bowl he had in his hands. “I could have done that.”

“You’re running late, remember?”

“Mmmhmmm,” Darcy hummed, hitching her bag higher on her shoulder so she could grab the bowl from him, “as if you would have let me do it myself if I wasn’t.” When Steve just shrugged, the smile on Darcy’s face faltered. “You okay?”

“Yeah, of course.” Steve’s assurance didn’t wipe the disbelief or suspicion from Darcy’s eyes, but she didn’t have enough time to question him further. She reached up and squeezed his arm before slipping past him and out the door.

Thoughts rushed through Steve’s head, hearing the squeak of the bike’s front tire squealing until it faded all together. Silence had descended over the cabin again and he took in a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the conversation that was about to happen. He passed through the kitchen and down the hall, hesitating outside of his and Bucky’s bedroom. He considered knocking but thought better of it, wrapping his fingers around the knob and pushing it open. He was unsurprised to find Bucky sitting on the bed, gray eyes sliding up to his like he’d been waiting.

“Darcy left?”

Steve leaned in the doorway, crossing his arms over his chest. “Yeah. We need to talk.” A strike of worry flashed behind Bucky’s eyes and Steve frowned. “I didn’t meant for that to come out as ominous as it sounded, I just…” Steve struggled with where to start, feeling like the words that needed to be said between the two of them could fill a few hundred novels. ”...I’m sorry I waited so long.”

Bucky nodded, hands resting on his knees. “I know why you did.” When Steve pushed off the doorway and took a seat next to him on the bed, Bucky let the air out of his lungs slowly. He’d been trying to get his thoughts in order since yesterday morning, but everything seemed so damn important that it was hard not to feel overwhelmed.

After years of living side by side, something had broke in them two nights ago, whatever it was that’d been holding them back, and it felt like chaos to Bucky, like he wasn’t sure how to move to the next stage. The awkwardness that had taken residence in the cabin was thick, regardless of how much Darcy tried to make it evaporate, and it was hard to get his intentions to line up so he could explain. “I’m close, better since I’ve been here, but I still don’t feel like myself.”

Hating the doubt he could hear in Bucky’s voice, Steve reached out to grip his knee. “I know, but we can work with that. We’re both different now. People never stay the same. But I’m not going anywhere. It wasn’t just the drink making me say things, Buck, it was the truth. I love you.” Steve kept his eyes on Bucky when his best friend looked up at him sharply, refusing to show any kind of hesitation, wanting Bucky to feel and know it was the truth. “Nothing about me loving you has changed, and it’s not going to.”

Bucky had accepted that he would never hear those words from Steve ever again, so certain that he wasn’t worthy, but getting to watch his lover’s lips form them was like music, like poetry, like a million other beautiful things that he didn’t deserve. “I love you too,” Bucky whispered, as if he was afraid to say it too loud, “Hydra couldn’t take that away, no matter how painfully they tried.”

The swell of emotion in Steve’s chest was overwhelming, and when he thought about how much they’d both been through, all the things that had led to that very moment, he couldn't rule out that fate, or destiny, or some other kind of preordained notion had played a hand in it. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, punk. You keep my head above water,” Bucky said, a soft smile on his lips. His expression turned into something more uncertain, and he directed his frown toward the floor. “A lot of things happened, things I didn’t plan, and I hope I didn’t -”

“You didn’t,” Steve assured Bucky with a shake of his head. It shouldn’t have surprised Steve that it’d only taken seven words to sum up how he and Bucky felt. I love you. I love you, too. Seven little words and the understanding was absolute. There would be other things that came up, he was sure, but at the moment, those words were all it took to feel certain when it came to Bucky. The other discussion, however, would be much less easy. “Bucky, I wanted everything that happened. Everything.”

Bucky looked up and held Steve’s eyes, unafraid to show the other man how thrown he was by everything with Darcy. “She was leaving and I didn’t want her to go, so I just....”

“I know,” Steve said with a small nod, “I wanted her there, too.”

Thinking back to yesterday’s breakfast, Bucky kept repeating Darcy’s words in his head over and over. I just don’t want it to come between us as friends. It’d become painfully obvious that Darcy hadn’t assigned the same weight to what had happened as he and Steve had, or at least she’d shoved it down far enough and hidden it behind a smile. Bucky could count on one hand the people he’d let get as close as Darcy, and one of those was the man sitting beside him on the bed. Showing that amount of vulnerability wasn’t easy for him, but he’d been doing it with Darcy since they’d arrived. “But she doesn’t understand.”

Steve sighed. “I’m not sure I completely understand it either.” Glancing at Bucky, Steve saw the same uncertainty he felt in himself reflected in his best friend’s eyes. Steve had been trying to wrap his head around everything and what it all meant, but this was something he’d never experienced before, nothing he’d ever dreamed of, and he found himself at a loss as to how to proceed. “What do we do now? Once we leave here, once we get home... everything changes.”

Bucky’s frown deepened. “You think it’s this place? That it’ll be different when we leave?”

“I don’t know. She’s been the only person that we’ve seen in months,” Steve said.

“And she’s been enough.”

Steve had thought about that fact a lot in the past few months. The only human contact they had was with Darcy, and somehow neither he nor Bucky seemed to need anyone else. Besides his worries about how the rest of the team was doing, Darcy was more than enough to keep him and Bucky happy. “How do we explain that?”

Bucky shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Steve hated the lost look in Bucky’s eyes and his hand reached out on impulse, cradling Bucky’s cheek in his palm, heart racing when those gray eyes swung over to him, vulnerable and exposed. He said the only things that he knew for certain. “I love you, Buck.”

“I love you, too.”

“And I have feelings for Darcy.”

“Me too.” Steve’s words settled something in Bucky’s chest, the worry that he’d been misreading the night and what they’d done evaporating. It sounded like the farthest thing from understandable, but it was true. He wasn’t alone in his attraction to Darcy, and knowing Steve felt the same as him was more than he could hope to explain. He didn’t have to feel guilty, not when his best friend shared the same thoughts and feelings he did.

“So what do we do?” Steve asked, hand dropping to Bucky’s shoulder. “Do we tell her? Ignore it? How? How does this work?”

A small smirk curled Bucky’s lips and he glanced over at Steve. “I have no idea, but when has that ever stopped us?

The expression on Bucky’s face was so familiar that Steve’s chest ached, somehow knowing that the last six months had been exactly what it’d taken for Bucky to begin to heal. Once again, he sent up a prayer of thanks to whoever had a hand in bringing back the man he loved. “I missed you. So much.”

Staring into Steve’s eyes, the blond’s hand warm on his shoulder, it was hard for Bucky’s mind to stay on doubt and uncertainty. Having Steve there, beside him, giving him the time he needed to get better, meant everything to Bucky. He’d never had someone fight for him as hard as Steve did, every day of his life. There were only inches separating them so it took very little for Bucky to lean forward, to press his lips to Steve’s cheek, feeling the other man’s beard brushing against his chin. Bucky took in a deep breath, marveling at how familiar Steve’s scent had become, how much he smelled like home. “I missed you, too, punk.”

Steve’s fingers, calloused and nimble, brushed along Bucky’s jaw, until he could slide his fingers through his best friend’s dark strands, gripping them tightly as he captured Bucky’s mouth with his own. They kissed, slow and powerful, until they were both left breathless, resting their foreheads together as they panted.

Hands running down the front of Bucky’s body, Steve’s fingers dipped into each hill and valley of Bucky’s ribs and across his abs, feeling the steady thumpthumpthump of Bucky’s heartbeat beneath his hand. He sucked Bucky’s bottom lip between his teeth and bit it softly, just enough to earn a small gasp from the other man. Steve moved from Bucky’s mouth, peppering kisses down warm skin until he could turn his tongue against the sensitive spot where Bucky’s shoulder met his neck.

Bucky sucked in air sharply when he felt Steve’s teeth tease his skin, just a hint of pain before pleasure soothed it into something softer, something more. Prior to being here with Darcy and what they’d done two nights prior, it’d been years since Bucky had been touched with anything but agony. Having Steve touch him so reverently, so carefully, was as close to devotion Bucky would ever get, but he needed more.

More of Steve’s skin on his. More lips, and teeth, and tongues. More sighs that made him feel cleaner and more pure than anything else could. Bucky needed to feel Steve against him, to prove that not everything he touched turned to ash, to assure himself that even if things were confusing now, they’d navigate it together, like always. He cupped Steve’s cheek and lifted the blond’s head so he could capture his mouth, tongue dipping in to take another taste. “Want you,” Bucky growled, “like before.”

Steve shuddered at the sound of Bucky’s voice, kissing him back with everything he had. He felt hands trail down his back, fingers pushing past the elastic band of his pajama pants, Bucky’s hands digging into his ass and gripping tight. The slow burn of desire grew in Steve’s chest and he wanted to feel all of Bucky, to show his best friend how much he affected him, to make sure Bucky knew he wasn’t going anywhere. “I’m right here,” he whispered against Bucky’s lips, “I’ll always be right here. You don’t have to ask.”

Urged on by Steve’s words, Bucky moved until he was standing, keeping their mouths connected as he let his hands finish their mission, pulling off Steve’s pants and throwing them to the side. The sight of Steve, ready and already looking sloppy from his hands, made Bucky’s mouth dry with want, and he reached down to wrap his hand around the swell of Steve’s cock. When Steve hissed with arousal, Bucky bent to press his lips to the other man’s, swallowing the sound of beautiful torture. “Gorgeous,” he growled, feeling the disbelieving huff of air pass Steve’s lips, “most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

Steve practically purred at the way Bucky was handling him, remembering the hours they’d spent memorizing each other’s bodies when they’d first been together, and then after the serum when things were new again. It didn’t matter if it was from before Erskine or after, Bucky had always made him feel like he was worth something. Shivering at Bucky’s touch, he was pressed back to the mattress, Bucky standing at the end of the bed. Steve’s blue eyes watched Bucky’s every movement, following his hands as they pushed his pants and briefs down, until he was there, bare and perfect, hard and ready.

Bucky crawled onto the bed, setting himself between Steve’s open knees, dipping his head so he could brush his lips over Steve’s. His hands wandered, trailing down Steve’s side, earning a shiver from the other man. Lips curling into a smirk, Bucky fit a hand under Steve’s knee, spreading his legs wider, moaning when his aching cock rubbed against Steve’s. “You feel so good,” he growled, wrapping his hand around both of them, chasing the friction.

Steve traced his hands up and down Bucky’s back, smoothing over firm skin, feeling the toned muscles bunch and slide as he moved, hips pumping lightly in time with Bucky’s hand. He licked into Bucky’s mouth with his tongue, until Bucky was practically shuddering above him, eyes closed as they moved together. “Like that?”

“Fuck, Steve, yeah, just like that.” There’d never been anyone who could pull Bucky apart as quickly as Steve could, and even though they’d barely touched, he was already delirious with lust, wanting to bury himself in Steve, wanting to release the tension that’d been slowly growing in him, needing to fit against Steve like he had all those years ago.

“What do you want to do to me?” Steve asked, tangling his fingers in Bucky’s hair, pulling just enough so Bucky froze, just this side of painful.

The tone of Steve’s voice sped Bucky’s pulse, and when he stared into those beautiful blue eyes, it was useless to try and lie. “Want to hold you down. Want to feel you around me. Want to watch you take me.”

Steve almost groaned at the focused look on Bucky’s face, wanting all those things and more. He remembered what it was like to be with Bucky; the overwhelming completeness, the way he could make you feel like you were the only two people in the world, the beautiful way he fell apart as he came. He wanted all of that, wanted to be fucked until he couldn’t think of anything but Bucky. Steve lifted his head so he could kiss Bucky, tongue curling as he widened his knees, wrapping his legs around Bucky’s waist, crying out when Bucky brushed against his opening.

Bucky pulled back so he could watch Steve’s face, the blond’s expression one of beautiful torment, the sounds falling from Steve’s mouth like Bucky’s favorite song. He knew what he wanted to do, and even if Steve seemed to be willing, Bucky wanted to be absolutely sure that Steve knew what he was agreeing to. As he rubbed his cock against Steve, precome slicking, he waited for Steve’s eyes, needing to know.

When Steve realized why Bucky had slowed, he felt emotion rise in his chest, knowing that even in the moment, even when they were seconds away from satisfying a hunger that had burned constantly for the better part of ninety-years, Bucky was still watching out for him, making sure he was certain. Steve didn’t want to see any kind of doubt in Bucky’s eyes, not when it came to wanting him, so he reached up to grip the back of Bucky’s neck, their gazes locking. “I want you. I’ve always wanted you.” He reached between their bodies, wrapping his hand around Bucky’s cock, feeling the other man suck in a sharp breath of air at the sensation. “Fuck me,” Steve breathed, “fuck me and make me come.”

The blast of desire at Steve’s words nearly knocked Bucky off his feet, certain there was nothing as sexy as someone saying exactly what they wanted. Lifting his hand, Bucky sucked three of his fingers into his mouth, coating them with a twirl of his tongue before pressing them to Steve’s hole, spreading the slickness, watching the blond’s expression as he began pushing forward.

Steve squirmed below Bucky, the feeling of pressure sitting heavy, breath coming out in gasps as Bucky kept moving. He let out a shout when Bucky lifted one of his legs and hooked it over his shoulder, getting a better angle. He could do nothing but writhe as Bucky’s fingers explored, rubbing his knuckles back and forth before he eased one finger in, slow and soft. They both let out a shaky breath, taking a second to gather themselves before Bucky began moving in and out. It was perfect, and overwhelming, and Steve’s eyes screwed shut at the feeling. “Yeah, just like that.”

Bucky’s mouth was dry, watching the emotions cross Steve’s face, those ridiculous eyelashes of Steve’s fluttering against his cheeks. When Steve seemed ready, Bucky added another finger, stretching him carefully, wanting to make Steve pop, wanting to see him fall apart. When Steve ground down against his hand, Bucky palmed his sack, breath passing his lips in a sigh.

“Want you,” Steve growled, eyes opening so he could blink at Bucky, his blue gaze filled with so much that it left him lightheaded, “one more finger than you.”

Body feeling like one giant nerve, sensitive and sparking, Bucky added a third finger, reacting to Steve’s gasps, pressing at the places he knew drew Steve mad. Bucky ached to bury himself in Steve, to fuck him until he couldn’t see straight, but he didn’t want to rush. He wanted to take his time, to appreciate the man below him for what he was.

Everything.

When Steve was moaning on the bed, shaking with anticipation, Bucky reached between their bodies and wrapped a hand around himself, spreading the slickness from his fingers. He brushed himself against Steve’s hole, warm and wet, waiting until he saw blue darkened to cobalt, until he could lock eyes with Steve.

“Fuck, yeah, right there, want to feel you,” Steve babbled, hands brushing up and down Bucky’s arms then fisting in the blanket, desperate and shuddering.

Despite his desire to pound into Steve, to make him see stars, Bucky knew he had to go slow, had to let Steve get used to the stretch. He held Steve’s eyes as he pushed forward, watching every flash on Steve’s face, waiting for anything that meant he needed to stop. Going so slow was torturous, but Bucky took his time, listening for every reaction, wanting to hear every breath Steve sucked in. When he was finally sheathed in Steve, his hips as close as they could be, Bucky closed his eyes, the breath he’d been holding huffing out at the sensation.

Feeling full and perfect, Steve practically vibrated with satisfaction, biting his lip to keep from crying out. When he opened his eyes, there was a look on Bucky’s face, one he recognized, one he’d missed, and Steve reached up to cup Bucky’s cheek. He understood the expression that had taken over Bucky’s face, feeling the same mix of happiness and fulfillment in his own chest. “Bucky,” he whispered, looking into Bucky’s eyes when they blinked open, “Bucky.”

The blood coursing through Bucky’s veins felt like fire, like lava, and the whoosh of his heartbeat in his ears was like a soundtrack. Bucky moaned as he drew his hips back, pulling until he almost fell out of Steve before he thrust forward, the warmth and tightness making his jaw clench, being careful not to push too hard too soon. “Fuck, Steve. Fucking perfect.”

Hands in a constant search for something to grip, Steve rolled his hips to meet Bucky’s, watching each minute change on Bucky’s face, repeating the things that made him gasp. Every shift was new, every angle forcing a shout, every new sensation drawing him closer to the edge. When he couldn’t take it anymore, when his body was aching and on fire, he lifted his head so he could kiss Bucky with desperation. “You feel so good,” Steve growled, pulling Bucky’s lips between his teeth and biting until he earned a moan.

Steve reached between their bodies, wrapping a hand around himself, squeezing the base as Bucky continued to thrust into him, quicker now, rhythm speeding. He did his best to match Bucky’s tempo but it was easier said than done, hunger making their bodies move sloppily, racing after their release but wanting to draw it out, not wanting it to end. “I’m close, so close, fuck, Bucky, right there!”

Bucky could hear the hitch in Steve’s voice, the strain, and he wanted to push Steve over that edge. He brought their bodies together faster, the sound filling the room. When Steve’s nails raked down his back, hopefully enough to leave marks, Bucky shuddered, nearly falling right then. He managed to keep it together, hands digging deeper into Steve’s hips, a growl building in his chest. “With me,” he gasped, leaning down so we could kiss Steve, lips brushing against the sweat that beaded the other man’s forehead, “want you to come for me.”

It was the command that pushed him over the edge, and Steve’s hand pumped as he came, feeling the warmth on the skin of his lower stomach, moaning as he saw stars flash white behind his eyes. “Now, fuck, I’m coming, Bucky, nownownow!”

Bucky watched Steve come, the blond’s head thrown back against the mattress, face smoothing out as his orgasm left him shaking. Seeing the look of relief on his lover’s face was enough for Bucky. He thrust hard, until he was buried in Steve as deeply as he could be, until he felt the wave crash over, stealing the air from his lungs as he came.

As the sounds of their labored breathing slowed, Bucky rested his hands on either side of Steve, shoulders sagging and head hanging low. Every wiggle of Steve’s forced a sound from Bucky’s throat, until he had to press a hand to Steve’s chest to hold him still. “Don’t move.”

“Hard not to,” Steve said, watching as Bucky’s eyes fluttered open, the lazy expression in all that gray tightening something in his chest. Even as he twitched with aftershocks, he lifted his head to press his lips to the side of Bucky’s neck, taking a deep breath in, drowning in the scent that he’d always associated with his first love.

The dark chuckle at Steve’s words shook Bucky’s shoulders, urging him to movement. The loss of Steve’s warmth was sharp, and as he pulled back, a sound of sadness fell from his lips. He collapsed on the bed beside Steve, feeling completely spent, draping an arm across Steve’s stomach. “Been a long time,” he breathed, pressing lips to Steve’s shoulder.

“Seventy years, give or take,” Steve said, watching a smirk curl Bucky’s mouth. He knew they’d need to move soon, he still had a shower to take since their run, after all, but Steve was in no hurry to be anywhere else. “Not too bad for two hundred-year-olds.”

“Give or take.”

As the sex haze began to fade little by little, Steve was unable to ignore the problem they still faced. “What are we going to do about Darcy?”

When he heard the doubt in Steve’s voice, Bucky turned onto his side, tracing a finger through Steve’s chest hair. “Nothing.”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Nothing?”

Bucky nodded, “we don’t know what’ll happen. Can’t plan for it. We do what we’ve done since we got here, and wait. I hear you’ve gotten pretty good at waiting lately.”

“You’re not wrong.” Steve returned Bucky’s smile. He hoped the confidence Bucky had was contagious, but Steve couldn’t help but worry about how what’d happened two nights ago was going to change things.

Chapter Text

The creak of a floorboard made Darcy’s eyes squint open, frowning into the inky blackness of her bedroom. When the bed behind her dipped with the weight of another body, Darcy raised onto one of her elbows and looked over her shoulder. “Bucky?”

“Just me,” Bucky said, lifting the sheets so he could slip beneath them.

Confusion rocketed through Darcy’s mind and she frowned in the dark, not sure what was happening. “What are you doing?” she hissed, unsure why her body was suddenly filled with tension. She held back a shiver when he settled behind her, draping an arm over her stomach.

“What do you mean?” Bucky mumbled, his face hidden in her dark curls.

“I mean,” Darcy said, her movements jerky as she turned to face him, even though it was too dark to make anything out, “what are you doing in my bed?”

Bucky chuckled softly, “been in your bed for months now, doll.”

“Believe it or not, I’m very aware of that fact, but you should be in with Steve.” Darcy had made a distinct separation in her mind when it came to Steve and Bucky, and now that the dam that’d been holding back their feelings had been destroyed, she’d assumed things would go back to normal, though their normal wasn’t all that normal in the large scheme of things. But Darcy had already made those distinctions, and those distinctions meant Bucky wouldn’t need to sleep next to her anymore.

Bucky’d told Steve that they would do nothing, just continue going on like they always had, but the hypothetical of doing nothing and actually doing nothing were two completely different things. When sleep had been elusive despite everything he’d tried, Bucky realized with a start it was because he’d gotten used to sleeping with Darcy in his arms. Just laying next to her was a balm, the almond and honey scent of her shampoo comforting, and regardless of what had happened between the three of them, Bucky found himself craving the feel of her skin against his.

“I sleep better when I’m beside you,” Bucky said, the words truthful and more vulnerable than he was with anyone except Steve.

Bucky’s words made Darcy pause, making her question why she was so shocked. She’d told both the boys that everything between the three of them was good, telling herself that everything would go back to normal, but Bucky sleeping beside her was normal. For the better part of the months they’d been at the cabin, Bucky’d spent more time in her bed with her than she’d spent in it alone. If Darcy gave it any real thought, she slept better when he was beside her, too.

But what was she supposed to do with that information? Steve knew what had been going on, but now that he and Bucky were finally back together, it reasoned that Bucky wouldn’t need to sleep with her anymore. Apparently that wasn’t the case, but it still made Darcy feel uncertain, like she was stepping on toes that weren’t hers to step on. “What if Steve gets mad?”

It was exactly what Bucky knew she’d worry about, and the fact that he knew her so well made his lips curl in the dark. He felt a burning in his chest, wanting to talk about what had happened between the three of them, but knowing Darcy meant he knew it wasn’t the right time. “He won’t be.”

Bucky’s words did little to calm her worries, and she continued to frown in the dark. “How do you know?”

The air in Bucky’s lungs huffed out in soft exasperation, reminding himself that she’d made arguing with others her life’s profession and it was useless to fight her. He needed to try a different tactic. “Would you please, just this once, not argue with me? Steve’ll be fine.” He could tell his assurance hadn’t eased her mind as much as he’d hope it would, but it was the best he was going to get. “Darcy, I’m exhausted and I just want to sleep.”

His hand was warm on her hip, and while she wanted to curl up with him and sleep, Darcy still felt like they were doing something wrong. “I don’t know…”

Bucky went still at her uncertainty, mind turning over things from her perspective. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, or make her feel like she had to go along with something she didn’t want to do. He knew all too well what it was like to have someone steal your choices and personal agency, and he was desperate not to make Darcy feel that way. “If you tell me to leave, I will.” He took another deep breath. “Do you want me to leave, Darcy?”

Darcy chewed on her lower lip. The easy answer to Bucky’s question was ‘no’. She didn’t want him to leave. She wanted to feel his arm draped over her side, wanted to feel his breath fan against the back of her neck, wanted to feel the safety of his body wrapped around hers. However, what she wanted and what she needed were two very different things. She didn’t know how Steve would react to Bucky crawling into bed with her, but Darcy couldn’t imagine telling Bucky to leave. “No.”

“Then shut up and sleep.”

Biting her tongue, swallowing the retort that had popped into her head at his words, Darcy shifted so her back was to his chest, his arm draping over her stomach and his legs twining with hers. As he settled against her, warm and safe and familiar, Darcy frowned into the darkness, trying to explain away the flutter in her stomach. What the three of them had done was more than enough reason for the flipping, but it was more than that. The sex had been amazing - sofuckinggood - but that wasn’t what made her stomach brim with butterflies.

Bucky went to her for comfort. He let her cut his hair when she said it’d gotten too long. When she played a song for him, he listened to it all the way through. He left towels on the floor in the bathroom, and while normally that’d push her off the deep end, even that wasn’t enough to make her really angry, not when it came to him.

And Steve? Steve had her translate and read French news articles for him even though Darcy knew he spoke enough to get by. He left her the last strawberries because he knew they were her favorite. He blushed when he cursed in front of her, not because he cursed (because come on they’d been in the trenches of WWII and the word ‘fuck’ was said about as often as the word ‘the’ was), but because she was a lady and, god damn it, his mother had taught him to be polite.

All of these facts boiled down into one stomach-flipping realization; while Darcy’d said everything was fine and had convinced herself things would go back to way they were, it was going to be impossible to ignore what had happened and how the dynamics in the cabin had shifted. Darcy didn’t regret what they’d done - didn’t regret it at all, even in the tiniest bit - but she’d been naive to think everything could just go back to normal.

Nothing about this situation was normal. Darcy life had stopped being normal when a Viking god had crash landed to earth and changed everything.

You really need to realize your life is like a magical version of Who’s Line Is It Anyway?, where everything’s made up and the points don’t matter.

As Bucky’s breathing evened out in sleep and she felt her eyes begin to droop, Darcy wondered if maybe things weren’t as fine as she thought they’d be.

Chapter Text

Extricating herself from Bucky's arms was getting harder and harder each morning. Not because he was holding her tightly, though he was doing that, too, but because he was heavy. Darcy was sure it was all those muscles of his, sliding under tanned skin, but as she maneuvered off her bed by executing a perfect barrel roll, she wondered if there was a better way to do this. Things had seemed to even out in the past week, the usual banter and sarcasm being thrown between the three of them again, and Darcy was hopeful they'd jumped the awkward 'morning after' phase and were moving toward normalcy.

But last night had been a bad one. Bucky's nightmares had hit hard, and Darcy was certain neither of them had gotten much sleep. As she looked down at Bucky, his arm draped across the mattress where she'd been just seconds ago, she felt a warm worry for him needle in her chest. She hated to see him so shaken, wishing there was more she could do, but Bucky'd told her just being there was enough, that just being beside her helped. It didn't feel like enough, though, and the weight of her uselessness hung heavy on her shoulders.

Since it was still early, Darcy moved in silence, hoping that Bucky'd get a couple more hours of sleep. He'd entered that 'dead weight' sleep stage, face in a pillow and breathing even. Darcy wasn't sure how it all worked, but for as dead to the world as he was right then, she knew Bucky'd wake up at the first sound of alarm. It was a contradiction she didn't fully understand, but she decided trying to logic the soldier's abilities was above her pay grade.

Darcy tip-toed toward the door, pulling it open carefully, casting a look over her shoulder at Bucky to make sure it hadn’t woken him. Because she wasn't facing forward, she didn't see the legs that nearly spanned the length of the hallway, the ones laying directly in her path. She tripped over them, and as she began to fall, surprise kept her from making a noise. Darcy tried to brace herself for the impact, but she never hit the ground. Steve's hands shot out and caught her, pulling her into his lap and saving her from the bruises (or worse) she'd have had otherwise.

Heart beating heavily in her chest at the shock, Darcy let out a shaky breath before scooting from Steve's lap and taking a seat next to him on the ground, the hardwood where he’d been sitting warm against her bare legs. "That would have been very bad," she breathed, holding a hand to her sternum and over the organ pumping doubletime below her ribs.

"Fuck, Darce, I'm sorry. I fell asleep," Steve said, fingers trailing down Darcy's arm as she pulled herself away. He reached up from his spot on the floor, pulling her bedroom door shut so they wouldn't disturb Bucky. "Are you okay?"

"You've got quick hands, Rogers, anyone ever tell you that?"

One corner of Steve's mouth lifted up, giving her an embarrassed, lopsided smile, "yeah, sorry."

Darcy let out a sigh, running a hand through her hair before pushing away the alarm that had raised her pulse. As she peered at Steve, she tried to understand the emotion crowding his eyes. He was still wearing his pajamas, and his hair was sticking up in several different directions. She cocked her head to the side, confusion in her gaze. "You fell asleep? In the hallway?"

Steve's spine straightened, hands smoothing over his flannel pants, slightly embarrassed that he’d been caught. "I heard Bucky last night," he said, watching her frown at the memory. "I just wanted to make sure he was alright."

In all honesty, Steve knew Bucky had been in good hands. Hearing the shout from his lover had made Steve bolt upright in bed, eyes wide. Steve's hand had brushed over the mattress beside him, finding it cold, realizing that Bucky hadn't been beside him for hours. Steve'd pushed the blankets aside and thrown open the door, heart racing, but just when the worry was beginning to overwhelm him, he’d come to a skidding halt in the hallway. Though the door to Darcy's room had been shut, Steve had been able to tell that Bucky was in there with her. As he'd moved closer, Steve could make out the murmur of voices, and he'd pressed his ear to the wood, listening to the two people on the other side.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, you're okay, Buck, shhhh, I'm right here. It was just a dream."

"...no...I won't... they can't..."

"Shhhh, it's okay, I'm right here, I've got you, you're okay."

Steve had listened to Darcy comfort Bucky for over an hour. He'd slid down the wall beside her door, head falling back as he listened. He could hear the rustle of clothing inside and imagined that Darcy was rubbing Bucky's back, pushing hair back from his sweaty forehead, soothing the soldier as much as she could while he shook off the aftereffects of his nightmare and whatever hell it’d brought to the surface.

In the hall, Steve had fallen asleep listening to the quiet calm of Darcy's voice, and though he knew it'd been meant for Bucky and not him, Steve'd taken solace from it all the same. He'd meant to be back in his room by the time they'd woken up, but she'd soothed him into such a deep sleep that even sitting upright against a wall had been one of the most restful nights he'd had in months.

"He hasn't had one that bad in a while," Darcy said, a frown wrinkling her forehead. Holding a sweaty, shaking Bucky in her arms, rubbing circles on his back, it'd taken everything she had not to start crying right along with him. If the people who'd hurt Bucky were still alive, Darcy would have called in her favor from Thor and used the giant death-ray robot to set their asses on fire. Even now, now that he was safe and they couldn't hurt him anymore, Bucky was still struggling with the things they'd made him do. It filled her stomach with a sharp anger, a fiery rage that was so powerful that it frightened her. She'd never felt anything as strongly as she felt protective of Bucky.

She'd gone into this situation expecting to help out two men who deserved peace, but somewhere in the middle, she'd come to care about them. Steve didn't need as much direct help as Bucky, but she'd seen that same thousand-yard-stare in his blue eyes that she saw in Bucky's from time to time. Steve hid it easier, but Darcy recognized it, despite his fight to appear fine.

Looking at the soldier, Darcy noted his unfocused gaze, his brain turning over something that gave him pause. The longer he stayed silent, the less certain Darcy felt. Steve had fallen asleep in the hallway because she'd been in bed with Bucky. Bucky had assured her Steve was fine with their frequent slumber-parties, but as she looked at Steve now, she wasn't convinced. "Are you okay?"

Steve shrugged his shoulders softly. "I'll probably be a little sore from the floor, but I'll be fine." When his answer didn't alleviate the look of worry on her face, Steve realized she hadn't meant how he'd slept. "What do you mean?"

"I meant," Darcy said, hands moving with restless unease, "are you okay with Bucky sleeping with me? Not sleeping sleeping," she rushed on, her eyes widening, "but him coming into my room instead of staying in yours."

Steve watched Darcy fidget, fingers clenching and unclenching, a wave of affection crashing in his chest. He supposed in normal circumstances, having your lover seek out another's bed could make someone jealous, but as he looked at the woman in front of him, practically radiating with doubt, Steve felt nothing but gratitude. Darcy was able to give Bucky something he needed, something important, and all Steve could do was reach out and grip Darcy's hand to reassure her. "You've helped Bucky since the day we got here. You, more than anything else."

Darcy tried to reconcile the guilt she felt with the way Steve was looking at her, his hand warm around hers, blue eyes soft. Both men seemed to go out of their way credit her for the peace and healing Bucky had found, but she worried they were laying far too much at her feet. "It's because I'm not threatening," she argued.

"That's not it," Steve said with a shake of his head, smiling warmly at her, "You have this thing... It's like you know exactly what he needs." What we both need.

"I just don't want to hurt you. I know what you guys have, anyone with eyes can see it, and I care about you both so much." Darcy couldn't explain the tightness in her chest or the lump in her throat. Looking at Steve, staring into those gorgeous baby blues of his, hurting him or Bucky in any way froze her heart. It didn't matter that she'd only known them a few months. Darcy’d always made friends quickly - she would have killed for Janey after just a week - but it was the strength of her feelings for the two men that made her hesitate. This might have been a temporary arrangement, but the way she felt about Steve and Bucky was anything but temporary.

Steve could see the honesty in her eyes, watching as they filled with tears. Suddenly holding her hands wasn't enough, Steve needed Darcy to know how he felt, and he shifted so he could press his palm to her cheek. "You taking care of Bucky? Helping him heal? I know that wasn't what you signed up for, but it means everything to me. I was worried I wasn't going to be enough, that I wouldn't have what he needed, but then you..." Steve let out a soft chuckle, knowing no words could explain the relief she'd given him. "You're amazing, Darcy. You've been exactly what we needed."

Darcy leaned into his touch, eyes closing, the movement sending tears down her cheeks. There was a part of her that wanted to deny his words, to brush off the effect he thought she had, but hearing that he didn't hold anything against her made her feel infinitely better. When his thumb brushed across her cheek, wiping away her tears, she opened her eyes and gave him a small smile. "It seems like such a little thing in comparison. You've both sacrificed so much for people like me."

Steve's head cocked to the side, his brows furrowing. "People like you?"

"Helpless people."

Tongue clicking in disbelief, Steve shook his head softly, an incredulous smile lifting his lips. "Darcy, you are one of the least helpless people I’ve ever met." His thumb continued to brush over her cheek, his gaze flicking from her lips then back to her eyes, wondering why he'd never noticed the flecks of gold in all that hazel before that moment. She'd stolen the entirety of his focus and his heart beat quicker when her lips parted, pink tongue swiping across them. The memory of the night they'd shared flashed through Steve's mind, and the longer he stared at her, the more he wanted to dip in for another taste. "Darcy..."

The look on Steve's face made Darcy's stomach flutter. The air in the hallway felt stifled, heat flaming in her cheeks, and she couldn't explain the struggle happening in her head. The pull she felt toward Steve was getting harder to ignore, but Darcy fought what she could feel thrumming inside, desperate to keep the dam from breaking and destroying what she'd built with both men. They meant too much to her, more than she'd realized, and she feared what would happen if she let herself fall further. Darcy's eyes widened, body freezing when Steve leaned forward, closing the distance between them. She sucked in a breath as he neared, his fingers moving along her jaw until he held the back of her neck. Eyes fluttering shut, she nearly sagged in relief when he pressed his lips to her cheek, a shaky breath falling free.

The last thing Steve wanted to do was make Darcy uncomfortable, regardless of the desire he felt for her, and the smile she gave him when he pulled back was beautiful. It'd been close to torture, not stealing her lips like he wanted, but she'd made her feelings clear and he wasn't going to do anything that she didn't ask for. "It's early, but I could make us breakfast while you get ready for work?"

Darcy grinned brightly at him, heart still hammering in her chest. That look in his eyes, friendly and warm, soothed the flush of uncertainty, until she could almost ignore the strain that’d been in her body just a few seconds before. "A shower would be nice,” she said, “I should probably wash my sheets, too. Things got pretty sweaty last night."

"I know it's against the rules spelled out on the chore chart," Steve said, returning her smile, "but I could take care of those for you."

Her immediate reaction was to argue with him, but the longer Steve grinned at her, the less Darcy felt the desire to say no to him. "Maybe just this once." She climbed to her feet, holding both hands out to him. She groaned when she pulled him off the ground, laughter shaking her shoulders. "I keep forgetting how heavy you guys are. Even science can't explain it."

"I think science can explain it," Steve said, squeezing her hands.

"It's too early to fight with me, Rogers."

"Yes, ma'am."

Chapter Text

The weather had turned quickly, late summer rains giving way to chilly autumn days, and as Darcy's legs pumped her bike's wheels forward, she wondered what she'd do when it started snowing. The thought forced more tears down her cheeks, the cool air doing nothing to soothe the warm redness of shame. When she'd agreed to help Tony with the Accords, she hadn't expected it to take as long as it was. She'd known it'd be hard work, but reasoned that the bulk of the Accords were already written, meaning they'd just need to revise and adjust to make them unsuck. She'd learned quickly how downright nebulous the problem was; every time she thought they'd figured out one issue, another issue and possible problem scenarios would open an entirely new can of worms.

She felt like a failure. Darcy'd spoken out against the Accords from the beginning, righteous contempt burning in her chest at the very thought of them, but she'd realized things were a lot more complicated than she'd originally thought. The longer and longer it took to unravel and correct, the more frustrated Darcy became. She'd promised Steve and Bucky she'd get them home, but as the months passed, she felt the weight of that promise hanging over her head, blinking in bright neon lights that she was a liar. The feeling that she was letting them down ached in her chest, shame spilling tears down her cheeks.

As she neared the barrier that kept the cabin hidden from anyone who didn't already know it was there, Darcy clenched her teeth, hating that she was feeling sorry for herself. She just needed to work harder. Longer. She needed to put more effort into everything, to keep pushing past her exhaustion so she could do what she'd said she would. She stopped pedaling as she neared home, coasting as she reached up to swipe at her cheeks, trying to erase any evidence that she'd been crying. She took an extra second after climbing the front porch, closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath before letting it out slowly, pasting a smile on her face before she stepped through the door.

Bucky glanced up when Darcy entered the cabin, her bright greeting of 'hello!' earning a quick nod. He'd almost turned his attention back to the book in his hands when something he'd seen made him stop and cast a second look back toward Darcy, a frown furrowing his brow. She shrugged out of her jacket and hung it by the door, but somehow he knew she was deliberately keeping her back to him. Her shoulders were tight with tension, her movements lacking their normal cadence, her steps heavier than usual. "Darce?"

Darcy cleared her throat of its thickness before answering. "Yeah?"

"What's wrong?"

Darcy kept moving, hearing the worry in Bucky's voice, dropping her bag on the kitchen table and attempting to make a quick retreat to her room before he could stop her. "Nothing," she said with an errant wave of her hand, "it's getting colder out there."

Undeterred by her dismissive tone, Bucky shot up from his seat, hurdling the sofa and skidding across the floor, blocking the hallway. Upon closer inspection, it was impossible to miss the red rimming Darcy's eyes or the flush in her cheeks. Bucky placed his hands on her shoulders, dipping his head so she was forced to look at him. "Hey, what happened?"

"I'm fine," Darcy sighed, still holding onto her stubbornness, even though it was clear Bucky wasn't buying it.

"You've been crying." It wasn't a question, as he had no doubt that it was true.

Darcy reached up to swipe her cheeks with the sleeve of her blouse, sniffling softly as her breath hitched. "No I haven't."

"You're crying right now."

"Shut up, no I'm not."

Bucky pressed his palm to her cheek, frowning as she continued to argue with him. He opened his mouth to speak but his words froze when the door to the back porch opened.

Steve had discovered a leak in the roof during the last rain downpour and had been working on patching it up when he heard the telltale squeal of Darcy’s bike, deciding what he had left could wait until after dinner. When he pushed through the door, his blue eyes swung toward Darcy and Bucky, standing in the middle of the hallway. There was a concerned look in his best friend’s gaze, and he could tell that Darcy was pointedly avoiding his gaze. He felt his stomach fall and twist with concern. "What happened?"

Darcy's shoulders slumped, realizing how stupid she'd been to assume she could hide anything from the two men. It wasn't just the fact that they were trained to notice minute changes and micro expressions in people, but they all lived so close that it was hard to keep anything secret for long. She bit her lower lip, feeling new tears prick her eyes as she looked up toward the ceiling, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "Fuck."

Bucky's gray eyes flicked back to Darcy, cradling her face in his hands, a wave of worry crashing in his chest at the pain in her eyes. "What happened?" He felt Steve move until he was at their sides, the blond's face taking on a matching worried expression as they both waited for Darcy to explain.

"I'm sorry," Darcy said, a reflexive sniffle shaking her shoulders as she swung her gaze back to Bucky, the movement loosing another batch of tears down her cheeks. "I'm a failure, I just want to get you guys home so bad and it's like I can't see the light at the end of the tunnel, but it's not a tunnel, it's a fucking well, and all that's down there is blackness, and it seems like I can't get anything right, and I yelled at Tony and he didn't deserve it, and you're both here, looking at me like that, and I don't deserve for you to be looking at me like that, why are you looking at me like that?"

Her torrent of words had been impressive, and it'd given enough that Bucky was able to suss out that her tears had something to do with her and Stark's work on the Accords and how long it was taking. "Just don't like the sight of you crying, doll," Bucky said, frown turning his lips.

"I'm sorry, I'll stop." Darcy took in a deep breath, face screwing up as she tried to stop her tears.

"That's not..." Steve's tongue clicked and he reached out to pull her hand in his, her hazel gaze swinging to look at him. "Darcy, we knew this was going to take time to figure out. Neither of us were expecting it to get fixed overnight. You've been working so hard, we both know that."

Steve's words did little to calm the helpless feeling that tightened her throat, and Darcy was desperate to hold back the sob that threatened to break free. This had been building inside of her for some time but she'd pushed it down deep, shoving it aside, not ready to examine the emotion in detail. She'd been afraid to show weakness, wanting to give Steve and Bucky hope, never wanting them to worry about her when they all had bigger things to stress over. Even now, with them looking at her like they were, Darcy wanted to tell them she was fine, that this would pass and she'd be back to her normal self. As they continued to look at her with such worry, all Darcy could see were her failures. "I'm sorry," she gasped, shoulders shaking as the tears refused to be ignored any longer.

Bucky wrapped his arms around her, setting his chin on the crown of her head as she cried against his chest. He looked over at Steve, gaze heavy. Steve took a step closer, arms circling both of them, the sound of Darcy's crying breaking his heart. His worry was thick and he hated that working to get them home had taken such a toll on her, but more than that, Steve felt ashamed that he hadn't seen this weighing on her like it appeared it had.

Every hitched breath and tear that soaked into his shirt felt like a blow, and Bucky wanted nothing more than to ease the ache of the woman in his arms. After everything Darcy'd done for them - the warmth she'd shown them from the beginning, the way she was always fighting to put a smile on their faces, her uncanny ability to make them feel better even when it seemed hopeless - the idea that she felt like she'd failed them seemed unbelievable. Bucky pulled back so he could look in her eyes, smoothing a hand over her hair, "you've got nothing to apologize for, Darcy, you hear me?"

Darcy bit her lower lip, cheeks hot with embarrassment as she nodded, though she was unable to make herself really accept the words Bucky said.

"Hey," Bucky said, kissing each of her wet cheeks then her forehead, "you're fine." He thought back to all the nights Darcy had held him in her arms, comforting him, making the darkness feel a little less heavy, and Bucky wanted to erase the doubt from her hazel eyes, wanted her to know how much she meant to both him and Steve. "You're amazing," he said breathlessly, desperate to make her believe him. Bucky's chin dipped so he could press his lips to hers softly, feeling her go still in the circle of his and Steve's arms. The movement had been so easy, like muscle memory, that he hadn't given it a second thought. Bucky pulled back enough so he could look into her eyes, breath frozen in his lungs, unsure what her reaction would be.

Shock rocketed through Darcy at the touch of Bucky's lips against hers, heartbeat heavy with surprise. Ten seconds ago she'd been terrified of showing either of them her weakness, but as she stared into Bucky's sky-gray eyes, she felt a different sense of fear welling inside of her.

She'd tried so hard to ignore her own feelings, just like she always did, trying to convince herself that what she felt for Bucky and Steve wasn't what it was, but ever since the night they'd crossed the friendship line, she'd been fighting a losing battle. Darcy'd tried to reason it away, logic arguing that the night had just been a fluke, that it'd resulted from the alcohol and lowered inhibitions...

...but the way Bucky was looking at her couldn't be reasoned away, it couldn't be argued against, and her own feeling of desire for both men was anything but logical. She'd tried guarding her heart, but looking into Bucky's eyes and feeling Steve's warmth behind her, Darcy realized she was already drowning. They were a part of her now, but she hadn't realized just how much until that very moment.

The easy way Steve and Bucky touched each other, soft and kind and heavy, had grown to include her as well. At first it’d been surprising, but Darcy’d found herself relaxing into the easy caresses, like a hand brushing along her shoulder, or a kiss pressed to the top of her head. She’d seen them do it to each other so often that she’d sided with denial, convinced it was just how they showed their affection. It was crystal clear to her, now, that she’d assumed incorrectly, realization solidifying in her chest; what she had with Steve and Bucky wasn’t just friendship, it was something else, something different, and she knew how she responded to Bucky’s kiss would carry them down a path of her choice.

Darcy didn’t know how this was going to work, what the next step would be, but as she rewound her memories of the last couple weeks, remembering the subtle ways they’d been reaching out to her since that first night, soft and not pushing her into something she didn’t want, she realized how careful they’d been. Heartbeat thundering in her ears, a voice in the back of her head cautioning that their futures were uncertain, Darcy took a deep breath then rose on her toes so she could claim Bucky's lips, finally giving in to the hunger she'd tried ignoring.

Bucky could taste the salt from her tears as they kissed, and while it had started soft and gentle, it quickly heated, turning into something more, something visceral. He fed at Darcy’s lips hungrily, pulse racing, feeling whatever hesitance she'd held so tightly bleeding away. Like she did with anything in her attention, Darcy gave him everything, melting against his chest, small noises of want passing from her mouth and into his. Bucky swallowed it all, fingers sifting through her dark strands so he could grip the hair at the nape of her neck, her moan like sugar on his tongue.

Darcy's heart was thundering in her ears, the steady whoosh whoosh of her pulse threatening to steal her knees, which is why she hung onto Bucky so tightly. When they finally separated, both were left gasping for air, eyes hooded and cheeks pink as they blinked at each other. When she was grabbed from behind, fingers strong on her hips, Darcy cried out in surprise, the sound slipping toward something with heat when her body was pulled taut against Steve's. She turned so she could blink at up him, seeing the flush in his cheeks, his eyes darkened from cornflower to cobalt.

When Darcy's arms circled his neck, Steve stole her lips, wrapping an arm around her waist and lifting her feet from the floor, tongue curling against hers. She was so warm, and Steve found himself drowning in the scent of almonds and honey, certain he'd never be able to smell them again without thinking of the woman in his arms. He kissed her until he was dizzy, until he needed oxygen, and tearing his lips away from Darcy’s was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do. It was like she was an addiction; he craved her quiet calm, the way she made everything better, and after his first taste, Steve knew he was already gone.

Darcy only had a second to catch her breath before Bucky pinned her between both men, a sigh passing her lips when Bucky brushed her hair aside, planting his mouth against her neck and forcing a shudder up her spine. Darcy was surrounded by them, captive, but instead of feeling trapped, she felt like something she'd been missing finally clicked into place. Since she'd first experienced the intensity of both men's attention, some part of Darcy had been yearning for the strength of their arms and the weight of their bodies against hers.

Bucky's lips carved a scorching path up Darcy's neck, peppering her jaw with kisses before pulling her ear between his teeth. "You're amazing," he growled, repeating his words from earlier, feeling her body shiver at his voice. He needed her to believe him, to know how much she meant to them, and when he glanced up at Steve, it was clear his best friend was harboring the same desire. He thought back to that first night, the taste of Asgardian ale on his tongue, and how she'd gone along with everything they'd suggested, a smile on her face. She'd made that first night about them, about he and Steve reconnecting, and had been more than happy to take a back seat to their reunion. Tonight, though, he wanted it to be about her and the way she’d stolen both of their hearts without trying.

Steve could see the focus in Bucky's gray gaze and the anticipation alone was enough to make Steve's blood pump harder. He watched Darcy's eyes flutter closed at the words Bucky whispered into her ear, biting softly on that pouting lower lip as she listened. When Bucky pulled back, Steve's head dipped so he could kiss her again, holding her cheek with his palm, thumb brushing over her soft skin. "Let us convince you that you've got nothing to be sorry for," Steve breathed, feeling her small nod as well as the tremble that seemed to have stolen her words. It was too easy to slip an arm between her and Bucky, even easier to reach lower so he could cup her ass, lifting until her legs wrapped around his waist.

Darcy squeezed Steve closer, dizzy at the heat they'd drawn to the surface, sweetly overwhelmed by their hands and tongues and teeth. The flip of emotions left her staggering, the shame from earlier nothing more than a distant memory, and the way Steve and Bucky were touching her made feel like she was on fire. She couldn't get enough of either of them, lips slanting over Steve's as her hand reached back to grip at Bucky, fingers slipping through the dark strands of his hair, nails scratching against his scalp.

She wasn't sure how they managed it, but Steve somehow got them moving in the same direction, Bucky walking backward down the hall, not wanting to break contact. There didn't seem to be a question of where they were going this time, as Steve and Bucky crossed toward her bedroom and pushed open the door. Even with the amount of hunger in her stomach, Darcy couldn't hold in the laugh when Steve all but threw her on the bed, her grin wide when she looked up at them.

Steve's chest thumped at the expression on her face - absolutely stunning - and his gaze slid to his right, seeing the same look in Bucky's eyes as he peered down at Darcy. Minutes ago she'd been crying against Bucky's chest, but now she was looking at them, bottom lip caught between her teeth, a look of excited anticipation in the depths of her hazel eyes. Steve reached out to his right, squeezing Bucky's shoulder and pulling the other man's eyes in his direction, watching as Bucky's lips curled upward. They moved toward Darcy at the same time, as if it was choreographed, each of them crawling across the bed, synchronized.

As Bucky pressed his lips against Darcy's, he felt Steve claim the side of her neck, hearing the sharp intake as they surrounded her on all sides. He took his time, memorizing the way Darcy tasted, how hard he needed to tug on her hair to earn a hiss of pleasure, how she liked being touched. When she reached up to help them undress her, both men pushed her hands away. "We can do that," Bucky growled, wrapping his fingers around Darcy's wrists and stretching them above her head as Steve continued working at the button on her slacks.

"I can -"

"Darcy." The tone of Steve's voice did what he'd hoped it would, and she turned to look at him, her mouth falling closed. He blinked his blue eyes at her, gaze softening. "Let us take care of you for once, okay?"

The expression of focus on the soldier's face was enough to stop Darcy's argument, pretty sure she'd never be able to say 'no' to Steve, especially not when he was looking at her like that. There was something in his eyes, something heart-stopping, and Darcy felt a flash of fear in her chest. Not fear that Steve or Bucky would hurt her, because she knew they never would, but because, despite everything she'd tried, they were so deep in her heart that she wasn't sure she'd be able to deny them anything. Giving anyone that power was terrifying, but as she looked up at both of them, the fear evaporated; Darcy knew these men, knew what they were capable of, and she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they'd never use her feelings for them against her.

Steve had watched the emotions chase across Darcy's face, waiting for her consent to go further. When she drew her bottom lip between her teeth and nodded up at him, the smile on his face grew exponentially. He knew how fiercely independent Darcy was, and the fact that she was perfectly fine letting him and Bucky take the wheel made warmth spread throughout his body. When Bucky glanced in his direction, Steve gave the other man a nod, both of them returning to the task at hand. Finally, Darcy was spread across the colorful comforter, the cobalt blue lace of her bra like something out of a dream, the soft satin stretched across her hips like heaven.

Darcy looked up into both of their faces, shifting under the weight and heat of their gazes. "You're staring," she breathed.

"Hard not to," Steve said with a grin.

"You're gorgeous," Bucky echoed.

Heat of a different kind flushed into Darcy's cheeks and she writhed against the bed. "Shut up."

Bucky frowned at the look of disbelief and embarrassment that seemed to have taken over her expression. There was a doubt to her eyes that he hated, and he wanted to wipe it away and never see it again. He laid himself beside her on the bed, stretching so the length of his body pressed against hers. "Darcy, I have never seen any woman as beautiful as you look right now, and even if it takes all night, I want to prove it to you."

The intensity in Bucky's eyes forced a shiver down Darcy's spine, and when he closed the distance between their mouths, she kissed him hungrily. She cried out when Steve's tongue laved against the lace over her chest, his teeth biting down softly, leaving her writhing on the mattress. She opened her mouth to say something - fuck or Steve! or right there - but didn't get the chance because her lips were stolen again by Bucky. His left hand trailed down the side of her body before his fingers slipped over the satin covering her, Darcy's body tensing as he brushed across the fabric between her legs, breath shaking as it left her lungs.

Steve's eyes rolled up to watch Bucky and Darcy as they kissed, practically vibrating with lust, his body reacting to the picture they made. He stayed there for a few seconds, reveling in the beauty, before he continued with his previous focus. His finger hooked into the lace of her bra, pulling it down, rewarded by the sight of her hardened nipple. Steve drew it into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue, feeling her sharp intake of breath at the sensation. Fingers tangled in his hair, tugging softly, and Steve wasn't sure if it was Darcy or Bucky, but he supposed it really didn't matter, as long as they enjoyed when he was doing.

Tearing his lips from Darcy's, Bucky glanced down so he could watch Steve pull one of Darcy's nipples into his mouth while he rolled the other between his thumb and forefinger, earning a gasp and an arched back, Darcy pressing herself more firmly into Steve's hands. Bucky moved down her body slowly, pressing a kiss to her jaw before nuzzling her neck, tongue curling against her clavicle. He paused so he could steal Steve's lips for a second, grinning at the blond then continuing his descent.

The look in Bucky's eyes was so full, so honest, and not for the first time, Steve was struck dumb by the beautiful light he'd seen return to his best friend's eyes since they'd arrived at the cabin. Realizing where Bucky was headed, Steve slid until he could lay beside Darcy on the bed, kissing her, wanting to watch as she fell. "You're beautiful," he whispered against her lips, "gorgeous."

There was no way for Darcy to express how their words made her feel. She hadn't had the most stable upbringing, and the weight of society's expectations when it came to beauty had been hard for her. Like most girls, she'd gone through a period of intense self-consciousness, knowing she would never fit into the conventional beauty mold, feeling bad about her body, and even though it’d gotten better as she got older, Darcy still had days where she felt down about her curves. Bucky and Steve, though, and the way they were treating her, made her feel like something beautiful. They were touching her softly, almost reverently, and it was hard to feel anything but gorgeous when their attention was so careful.

Bucky rubbed his face against Darcy's lower stomach, smiling when she writhed, knowing that Steve was swallowing the hungry noises that sounded from her throat. He lifted her knee and slipped beneath it, until he could hook one of her legs onto his shoulder. She could do nothing but shout when the flat of Bucky's tongue licked at the satin covering her, Steve making sure she stayed put with an arm across her ribs, the other one holding her hands above her head. Bucky nudged her with his nose, the fabric darkening from the moisture of his tongue. He repeated the motion, feeling the shudder that went through Darcy's body.

Completely overwhelmed, Darcy was torn between kissing Steve and reacting to Bucky's mouth. Her hands itched to run through Bucky's hair, to tug on it as he continued his ministrations, but they were held over her head by Steve's hands. She knew that if she told Steve to let her go that he would, but that slight hint of power, knowing she could pull and pull and never get free, sent her body thrumming, straining against their holds to feel their strength. Bucky's tongue was going to tear her apart and she gasped his name against Steve's lips, feeling the blond smile before he deepened the kiss, making words impossible.

Looking up her body to see Steve and Darcy kiss had Bucky hard and pressed against the mattress, and he took a moment to adjust to a more comfortable position. He could feel the tension in Darcy's body as he teased her, flicking his tongue back and forth over her in differing pressures, noting what made her scream and shout, what made her moan his name. When the fabric of her underwear was nearly black with wetness, Bucky sat back, Darcy's knees falling open to either side. Bucky caught her eyes when Steve released her lips, the hazel almost frenzied, and one of the most gorgeous fucking things Bucky had ever seen. He dipped his fingers past the waistband and pulled them down slowly, gray gaze flicking to see Steve staring at him with almost the same intensity, everyone following the trail of her panties as they were pulled down her legs then thrown aside.

There was a predatory look in Bucky's eyes, like he knew she wasn't going to say no, a confidence to his movements that sped Darcy's pulse even faster than it was already pumping. He held her gaze as he lowered his head, shifting so one of her knees was propped on his shoulder again, giving him all the space he needed. At the first full touch of his tongue, Darcy's head feel back against the pillow, whatever words had been on her lips fading away. As he licked her from bottom to top, Darcy’s hands strained against Steve's hold, eyes screwed closed as her breath huffed outward.

Steve watched the gorgeous agony cross Darcy's face, each pass of Bucky's tongue taking her higher, his body reacting to the sight. He was pressed against her hip, friction brushing each time she writhed against him, and he shifted so he could kiss her deeper, tongue curling into her mouth. He was caught between claiming her lips and watching Bucky work her over so beautifully. Bucky must have hit something extra sensitive because Darcy gasped, her lips falling away from Steve's as she shouted, the sound ringing in the room.

It was a full-time job, keeping Darcy still so he could finish what he'd started, but Bucky took on the work happily, slicking through her folds, tongue running over the spots that made her scream. She tensed at the first press of his finger, but relaxed almost immediately, and he was able to slide in easily. She was warm, and perfect, and he added another finger as his tongue flicked against her. Bucky could hear Steve whispering in Darcy's ear and he glanced up to watch them. Darcy's bottom lip was bit tightly between her teeth, chest heaving, blue lace bunched beneath her breasts and forcing them higher. Steve's jaw moved as he whispered, right hand stretched above their heads, left pinching one of her nipples. Bucky could feel himself leaking, reacting to the vision of Steve and Darcy, and if Darcy's frantic nodding was any indication, she was just a few moments away from flying.

She'd never had an out-of-body experience before, but if Darcy had to summarize being stretched between Steve and Bucky, that's exactly what she'd have said it felt like. Her body was on fire, Bucky's mouth leaving her speechless, and Steve's whispers had her skin breaking out in goosebumps. Darcy could already feel she climbing higher, the anticipation making her legs shake, and when Bucky added a third finger, coupling it with his tongue, there was little she could do except listen to Steve and wait for the release that was only seconds away.

"Can't wait to taste you on his lips, sweetheart. I bet you taste like spun sugar, bet you taste so good," Steve breathed. Bucky had always marveled at how easily Steve could blush outside of the bedroom, yet drop such filth from his lips when it was called for. What his best friend didn't know was that Steve's words turned himself on just as much. "I know he's treating you like he should, he's so good for taking care of you like that, but I want to see you break apart. Is he close? You going to fall soon?"

Darcy hummed in the affirmative, eyes screwed shut as she felt the first flutter, teeth letting go of her bottom lip in case she bit too hard. Steve pressed his cheek against hers, arm across her ribs and holding her still, a steady string of words that only pushed her further. "Fuck, fuck, Bucky, right there, oh god, I'm going to come!" Her words pushed Bucky closer, his lips and tongue flicking back and forth until she screamed wordlessly, the orgasm slamming into her, strong as her inner walls trembled against Bucky's fingers, writhing against the work of his tongue.

"That's it," Steve said, his own voice breathless, hips pressing closer, feeling the shiver of her body against his hard cock, "you're so fucking gorgeous."

When Darcy was nothing but a quivering mass on the mattress, shaking violently with every additional lick, Bucky pulled back, eyes hooded as he looked down at her porcelain skin, flushed pink across her chest, neck, and face. Steve's eyes opened and looked over at him, and the expression on the other man's face could have made Bucky come right then if he wasn't already planning on more. Bucky watched Steve release Darcy's wrists and sit up, noting the wet spot on the front of Steve's sweatpants, before the blond crashed his lips against Bucky's.

The taste of Darcy on Bucky's tongue was thick, and Steve hummed into his lover's mouth, one hand holding onto Bucky's shoulder while the other dipped beneath the waistband of Bucky's sweatpants and briefs, taking his hard cock in hand. "That was amazing," he breathed against Bucky's lips, hand moving up and down, feeling Bucky's hips jerk forward, chasing the friction. When Bucky pulled back, Steve blinked heavy eyes at him, his fingers squeezing and moving at a steady pace. "How do you want me?"

It was such a loaded question, too many scenarios running through Bucky's head, and the way Steve's hand moved over him expertly, years and years of memories knowing exactly how Bucky liked it, made rational thought all but an impossibility. He had to break away from Steve's lips so he could think clearly, and Bucky took the moment to look down at a blissed-out Darcy, her face smooth, hazel eyes bright as they blinked up at him. There was nothing in her expression except satisfaction, and Bucky felt the thrill of it chase up his spine, until he was left shuddering in Steve's hand. "I want to feel you in me," Bucky growled, fingers sifting through Steve's honey-strands and tugging softly.

Steve's heartbeat sped faster at Bucky's voice, a smirk slanting his lips as they rearranged on the bed. Darcy sat back against a mound of pillows, Bucky’s back cradled between her legs, her arms circling his chest and holding him tightly. The look of hunger on Bucky's face flipped Steve's stomach in knots, the vision of Bucky and Darcy almost too good, too real. Even in his wildest dreams, Steve had never thought something like this was possible, and looking down at the pair of them - the boy who'd always carried his heart and the stunning woman who somehow made them feel whole when they hadn't realized they'd been missing something - he was overcome by the truth of it.

Darcy could see something pass behind Steve's eyes, something bittersweet that forced his eyes closed and his lips to part, and she reached out to grab his hand, fingers squeezing when those gorgeous blue eyes blinked open. "It's okay," she whispered, "I've got you both."

Yeah. Yeah you do. Steve gave her a dark grin, an expression that she flashed back at him, before he moved himself closer to Bucky, pushing Bucky's knees wider so his hips could fit between. Steve spread the bead of precome against Bucky then took himself in hand, blue eyes flicking up to Bucky, a thread of anticipation in his gaze. Bucky gave him a firm nod before Steve pushed forward, breath hissing out as he moved slowly, letting Bucky adjust to the stretch.

While she’d never considered herself a voyeur, watching Steve and Bucky together was beyond sexy, and Darcy felt heat fan into her cheeks. She was so sated, body humming, and as Steve pushed into Bucky, Darcy’s breath hitched. The beauty before her was like a feast, and her eyes gorged happily.

"Jesus," Bucky hissed, writhing at the feeling of pressure, Darcy's arms wrapped around his chest and holding tight. Steve waited to move until Bucky locked eyes with him, ready to stop at the first flinch of pain. It took everything Bucky had not to force Steve faster, not to ground down around Steve's cock, but when Steve's hips could go no further, when Bucky felt perfect and full and yes, they both let out matching breaths, overwhelmed by the feeling. Steve began the slow retreat, Bucky practically purring at the sensation, and he shut his eyes when everything became too much.

It was dazzling, the utter focus on Steve's face as he slid back with measured movements, jaw clenched as he focused, and Darcy watched with rapt attention. Though she couldn't see Bucky's face, she felt him shudder against her, and leaned forward so she could press her lips to the side of his neck. Her eyes, though, were fixed on Steve, unashamed when he looked up to find her staring, wanting to see every expression that crossed his face as he fucked Bucky, wanting to know the second that he fell into a million little pieces.

Fingers digging into Bucky's hips, unworried about whether he'd leave bruises, Steve held Darcy's gaze as he pushed forward, desperate to be surrounded by Bucky again, wanting to bring their bodies together over and over, but he knew he needed to wait until his lover was ready. He held himself back, gaze flicking back and forth between Bucky and Darcy, both of their expressions breathtaking, committing the moment to memory. When Bucky gave him a series of soft nods and hooked his knee over Steve's hip, Steve took it as the invitation it was, thrusting forward, letting out a growl when he was fully surrounded again.

Darcy felt every tug and pull, every advance and retreat, and when Bucky reached out for her she threaded her fingers with his and gave him something to hold onto. It was beautiful, watching Steve get lost in Bucky, and though she’d always found the soldier handsome, seeing him so free, so comfortable, made desire of her own flare back to life. She untangled her fingers from Bucky’s and draped an arm across Bucky’s chest, one of her hands snaking down his body so she could wrap her fingers around his cock, rewarded with a shout and shift as he tried to look at her. “Shhhhh,” she whispered into his ear, “like that?”

Bucky nodded, turning his gaze back toward Steve, feeling the soldier’s speed pick up, lust darkening his eyes as he watched Darcy’s hand move up and down, pulling Bucky toward the precipice. Steve’s thrusts became harder, until Bucky could do nothing but mumble incessantly, torn between the feeling of Steve slamming into him and Darcy’s hand, unsurprised to taste his own release on the back of his tongue. “I’m close, fuck, Steve, uhh, Darcy, uh, right there, yeah, oh fuck.”

When Bucky’s head fell back, resting on her shoulder as he shouted toward the ceiling, Darcy kept her eyes on Steve, holding his gaze, her body reacting to the sight. The tick of his jaw as it clenched did something to her and she cried out as well, uncertain she’d ever seen anything as sexy. Steve moved impossibly faster, the sound of flesh hitting flesh echoing in the room, and Darcy could feel Bucky as he thrust into her hand, looking for his own release. Darcy wasn’t sure whether it was the vibrations of Bucky wiggling against her or the dark knowledge in Steve’s eyes as he drove forward, but she tightened her legs around Bucky’s back, shuddering as she orgasmed from the friction alone, hearing Bucky’s shout as he followed her.

Steve watched it all happen in glorious slow motion; Darcy’s eyes fluttered shut as her cheeks flushed with heat, her moan deep and breathless, hand still moving over Bucky as he came, milky white spreading over his best friend’s chest and lower stomach. It only took Steve another three thrusts before he came as well, overwhelmed and stretched taut, growling Bucky’s name.

Darcy was too sated to move, too satisfied to even think about moving, but when Bucky shifted back against her, Darcy cried out, her body too sensitive to take any more. She felt first Steve’s weight then Bucky’s as they moved away, leaving her in the room as she came back down. She felt absolutely boneless, and when she laid back against the pillows, she let her eyes fall closed. When Steve brushed a hand down her arm, she blinked tired hazel eyes at him, reaching behind her back to unclasp her bra and throwing it aside before laying back against the covers.

She turned onto her side, watching as Steve cleaned himself off with tissues then disappeared out of the door. Darcy felt cold without their heat and reached for her blanket, pulling it over herself as she waited for the boys to reappear. She must have fallen asleep because the next thing she remembered was Steve and Bucky slipping themselves beneath the blanket with her, taking up either side. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, the three of them sharing a queen-sized bed, but as their legs and arms entwined, Darcy was certain she’d never felt so safe.

Tomorrow there would be words, and feelings shared, and all the things that happened when a friendship shifted toward something else, but in the circle of their arms, her body spent and satisfied, head still ringing with the things they’d said, Darcy let sleep take her.

Chapter Text

The second Darcy pushed through the front door, she could tell something was up. Bucky and Steve were both sitting at the dining room table, their hands resting on top, as if they'd been waiting for her. She froze in the open doorway, fumbling when her bag slipped down her shoulder, saving it from crashing to the floor by only inches. When she looked back up at the boys, their eyes had widened in surprise and they were doing their best not to laugh at her. "Who died?"

Bucky's lips lifted at Darcy's frazzled appearance, remembering that she'd had to rush out of the house that morning, their AM activities having made her late. Not that Bucky cared. She'd been working so hard on everything, and if Stark wanted to give her a hard time, Bucky'd have no problem telling the tech genius to back off. Luckily it seemed that Stark was willing to accommodate her tardiness. "I count the three of us, doll. That's everyone."

"Fine. Who did something that could possibly result in one of our deaths?"

Steve couldn't help the smile that climbed on his face, rising slowly from the table so he could hold a hand out toward Darcy. "No deaths, just a surprise."

Darcy's head cocked to the side, her eyes narrowing softly. "Is the surprise someone dead?" When Steve rolled his eyes at her, Darcy dropped her bag on the table and extended her hand. She let out a gasp when Steve tugged on it hard enough that she smacked into his chest, eyes widening as they blinked up at him.

Even though they'd spent the morning together, satisfying the urges that hummed between them, Steve had learned early on that his appetite for Darcy and Bucky was insatiable. The surprise they'd constructed for Darcy had been so simple, but he felt his stomach flutter in anticipation, hoping she didn't find it stupid. "No one has suffered bodily harm for this surprise."

"Speak for yourself, punk," Bucky said as he came to their sides, giving Steve a smirk, "I scraped up my knuckles pretty good."

"Lemme see," Darcy said, reaching out to pull Bucky's hand and inspect it. When she saw nothing marring his skin, she gave him a questioning look.

"What?" Bucky shrugged. "It healed already."

Darcy let go of his hand as she shook her head, still in awe of the healing powers the serum had given them. She, meanwhile, was still sporting a stinging paper cut in the webbing between her fingers which she thought was the worst thing that had ever happened to her. She'd have rather faced an army of world-ending-elves than suffer through the indignities of her paper cut. "How about you two just show me what you did, without my approval, and we go from there?"

If he hadn't seen the glint in her eyes, Bucky might have taken offense to her words, but he knew Darcy well enough by now that he could recognize when she was joking. "What Steve didn't tell you is that we slaved all day on this," Bucky said as he slipped his arm across Darcy's shoulders and pulled her from Steve, walking slowly down the hallway toward their bedroom. He stopped outside of the closed door, fingers wrapping around the knob before he paused. "We figured this would make things easier."

Eyebrow raised, Darcy nodded at the door. Bucky waited until Steve was standing behind the raven-haired woman, a barely contained look of excitement on the blond's face. He turned the knob then got out of her way so she could enter the bedroom.

Darcy's eyes widened as she took a step into the room. She could only take one step inside, because the majority of the floorspace was taken up by a comically large bed. Compared to the queen size bed she had in her room, this thing was a monster. She looked over her shoulder at them quizzically, questions in her hazel gaze.

"We figured we'd all sleep better with a bigger bed, so we took the one from your room and, through some impressive pivoting, were able to get them both in there, side by side." Steve came up behind Darcy, resting his hands on her shoulders, his mouth curled into a grin as he looked at what he had Bucky had worked on. "We managed to find something to fill it in the gap between the mattresses so it really is like one bed."

"I mean, yeah, it's going to be better, but where did your dressers and closet go?"

"Let me show you," Bucky said, holding out his hand when she turned to face him. When Darcy stepped away from Steve and took his hand, Bucky shared a look with his best friend over her head. It was something they'd come to enjoy, passing Darcy back and forth between them, and as he began leading her across the hall, he saw a flash of desire in Steve's eyes. Darcy didn't seem to mind their game, and had on several occasions used it to mutual satisfaction for the three of them. "We moved the dressers and closets in here, so it's now just one giant room filled with clothes."

"Clothes and all your books," Steve said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the door jamb, watching as Darcy went to the center of the room and turned in a circle.

"You mean I have a literal walk in closet?"

"If you want it," Bucky said, a grin on his face. "We can always put it back if -"

"Are you kidding?! This is amazing! There's so much room for activities!" As if to prove her point, Darcy put her arms out and began to spin around.

"You have more clothes than the two of us combined so we figured you'd like it." Her laugh was infectious and Bucky found himself joining in, reaching out for her hand and lifting it above her head, smiling when she turned in a circle, both hands finding his chest when she came to a stop. "So you like it?"

"Uh, yes, I like it! That bed is huge and as long as the gap doesn't swallow me, it'll be so much better!" It wasn't hard to see that Bucky and Steve were proud of their work, and the last thing Darcy wanted to do was make them think she was unappreciative. She knew the moving of furniture probably only took a few minutes - seeing as both of them could likely bench press a car - but it was the thought that'd gone into the gesture that meant so much. She rose on her toes so she could press her lips to Bucky's, taking her time, wanting him to know how much it meant to her. When Steve moved closer, she went happily to him, kissing him with the same thumping of happiness in her chest. "It's awesome. You're both geniuses."

"I don't know about that," Steve said, enjoying the pink flush to her cheeks.

"Speak for yourself," Bucky said with false offense.

"Now, boys, let's not fight over who has the biggest brain," Darcy said, taking a step back from them, an amused glint in her eyes, "you're both wicked smart, but the real question is if you tested your invention to make sure it works."

"We were waiting on you, sweetheart," Steve said, with a smile, "we were waiting on you."

Liking the way that sounded as it fell from his lips, Darcy gave them both a short nod before letting out a shout and taking a running leap through the doorway to Bucky and Steve's bedroom. No, not Bucky and Steve's bedroom, but their bedroom. The three of them. They now shared a bedroom. Almost dizzy with the reality of it, she let out a loud giggle as she bounced on the ridiculously sized bed, watching the boys look at each other before they followed suit, the sound of their carefree laughter bouncing off the walls.

When Darcy's eyes blinked open, it took a second for her to understand why she was awake. It was still dark outside, and she was almost positive they'd only been sleeping a few hours. Bucky shifted at her side, draping his prosthetic across her stomach, and the pressure solved the mystery; her bladder didn't care that she was still exhausted, it demanded her attention. Darcy's hand reached for Steve, frowning when his side of the bed was empty. She was able to wiggle out from beneath Bucky's weight, arms and legs breaking out in goosebumps at the chill in the air. After answering her body's demands, Darcy stuck her head into the living room, eyes searching for Steve.

"Over here, sweetheart." Steve watched Darcy rub her arms as she came closer, the dark waves of her hair looking wild.

"You okay?" Darcy asked, toes curling into the rug.

"Couldn't sleep," he answered from the window seat, holding a hand out to her. He opened the blanket he'd wrapped around himself so she could join him in the warmth.

As she settled herself against him, Darcy's eyes flicked up to the window, widening when she saw the blanket of white outside. "It's snowing!"

"First of the year." Steve wrapped his arms around Darcy's shoulders and pulled her back against his chest, making sure they were both covered and comfortable before relaxing back into the muted quiet. "It's sticking to the ground but I think it'll be gone by morning."

"I guess we got lucky that it didn't start sooner," Darcy grumbled, still worried about how she'd be getting back and forth from town. "Will it mess with your guys' schedule?"

Steve grinned, resting his chin on the top of her head as he watched the white flakes fall. It was one of the things he'd been worried about, too. Shuri had stressed how important keeping Bucky on a schedule was to his recovery, and the idea that the weather could cause an issue had crossed his mind, but Steve was almost certain they'd be fine. They had plenty of clothing to keep them warm, and the serum helped stave off the bitter cold. Hopefully the transition from fall to winter would go smoothly. That Darcy was just as worried about Bucky as he was filled Steve with affection for the woman in his arms. He'd been the only one fighting for Bucky for so long that he'd forgotten what it was like to have help, and knowing Darcy was there beside them meant everything. "We should be good," he answered, pressing his lips to her temple.

"Mmmmkay," Darcy hummed, wiggling even closer to him as she gazed out the window, her body melting against Steve and his heat. The quiet that came with the snow was like nothing Darcy had ever experienced. She'd grown up in Virginia, and while the snow there could be insane, she'd never lived deep in a forest where the muffled sounds of the precipitation covered everything in a blanket of white. The lack of sound was surreal, considering the amount of wildlife that lived in the trees around them, but it seemed like the entire forest was in slumber, just the hushing whisper of snow.

It would have been so easy to fall asleep in the circle of Steve's arms, but something inside of her wanted to savor the moment. Steve and Bucky's entire adult lives had been spent on the run from one battle to another, and the fact that they could just be still seemed too important to ignore. Steve's breaths were even, no tension in his body, and getting to be near him when he was this quiet was like a gift, like a glimpse of what might be when they got home. "Have you ever seen snow like this before?"

Her question sent Steve's mind back in time, remembering when the Brooklyn streets filled with dirty snow and slush. "I didn't when I was a kid," he answered, lips turning up, "but every once in a while I'd ignore Ma’s warnings and follow Bucky up to the roof, having to stop on each flight of stairs to catch my breath. Bucky made sure I was covered from head to toe and warm, then he'd toss snowballs at people on the street."

"What a pair of delinquents," Darcy said with a gasp of faux surprise, feeling the laugh when it rumbled through Steve’s chest.

"Bucky never missed," he said with a grin and a shake of his head, "which meant a large population of the neighborhood was pretty miffed. We lied, of course, saying that there was no way we'd be up on the roof, not with my health problems. Watching Bucky use that charming smile to smooth everything over? It was like art."

"I bet."

Steve's cheek rested on the top of Darcy's head, his eyes falling closed as his memories spun. "When I got to Europe, there was a plenty of snow, but everyone hated it. Socks never dried. The mud gummed up anything with an engine, and slogging through it was torture. We lost a lot of people to the cold." His blue gaze blinked open, focusing on the quiet on the other side of the glass. "One night the commandos took shelter in a hollowed out barn and out of the wind that felt like knives. DumDum made a fire while Morita and Tripp took stock of our rations."

"That sounds nice." Darcy had never been in war, was not a soldier in any sense of the word, and she knew better than to assume she knew anything about what it was like to put your life on the line over and over and over. The facts and statistics Darcy'd learned in her high school Western Civ class filtered through her brain, remembering how awful it'd all sounded. That Bucky, Steve, and the Commandos had found a quiet night for themselves sounded like some kind of gift.

"It was," he agreed, "and the company was even better."

"Did you, I mean, you and Bucky..." Darcy could admit that she was curious how everything had worked back then. She'd heard Bucky talk about what it was like growing up in the 30s, when anything outside of the conventional nuclear family was seen as something deviant, like something to be punished.

"We tried to find quiet where we could, sneaking off every once in a while, but it was hard. The Commando's knew enough, but they never judged. When you're fighting side-by-side with people, facing the danger and odds like we did, things like that don't matter. They had our backs, and we had theirs, and that's all that counted."

When Steve went quiet, Darcy didn't push, giving him the space and time he needed to pull his memories to the surface. The last thing she wanted to do was ruin the moment they were sharing, but Darcy wasn't sure when or if she'd ever have the opportunity to ask her questions again, let alone have the courage to ask them. "And Peggy Carter?"

Hearing Peggy's name made Steve's chest tighten with grief, closing his eyes as the waves of loss lapped at his skin. "Peggy..." He sighed, trying to gather his thoughts in a way that made sense. "Peggy never said anything, but she knew that Bucky and I... she knew what we had. She never questioned how I felt about her.”

Quiet descended over them again. Feeling like a horrible person for asking about things that caused him pain, Darcy shifted uncomfortably against Steve. "I'm sorry, you don't have to -"

“Hey, if I didn’t want to talk about it, I’d stop.” Darcy seemed to take his words as truth because she went quiet, both of them turning back toward the window. Steve considered his words carefully, voicing things that had gone unuttered until that point. “Bucky dated before the war. Even drug me out on a few. I think if he’d found a girl he cared enough about that he’d have settled down. We both knew the score. It was one of the only ways we’d get the chance at a family, a chance to have kids.”

Darcy could feel the weight of Steve’s words, the emotion behind them forcing goosebumps up and down her arms as she tried to imagine what it would have felt like to love someone and know it would never be accepted. Her throat tightened as she imagined how hard it would have been for Steve and Bucky to accept they’d never be able to get what they wanted.

Steve pressed his cheek to the top of Darcy’s head again, taking solace in her warmth. “When it came to Peggy, Bucky understood. She was brilliant, one of the strongest women I’ve ever met. Bucky got it. He knew what she meant to me, and he would never ask me to give that up. He knew how deeply I loved him and that it would never change. We both understood where we fell.”

Heartbreaking for the man wrapped around her, Darcy reached up, fingers wrapping around his forearm and squeezing. The memories she’d brought to the surface had turned his voice bittersweet, remembering the woman he’d loved and lost. She’d done her research on Steve and Bucky before she agreed to come to France and help them, and it was clear from everything she read that Peggy loved Steve. S.H.I.E.L.D. files were filled with accolades and all the good she did for the world, and when Darcy’d found out Carter had died only a few years earlier, she’d cried for the force of nature they’d lost. It was no wonder why Steve had fallen in love with her.

She couldn’t pretend to understand Steve’s grief, having never experienced a loss that compared, and as they sat there in the quiet of the Ardennes Forest, Darcy tried to find some kind of win, something bright in all the darkness. "It's different now, you know?”

“What’s that?”

“You and Bucky. You could have a family and kids and not have to give him up to do it. You wouldn’t be the first family with two dads."

Steve’s lips lifted at her words and the soft way she’d said them, wondering how she managed to know the right thing to say to relieve his thoughts when they turned toward something darker. “I’m not sure if our life is made for children.”

Darcy frowned, something pounding thickly in her chest at this words. It didn’t seem fair, and her mind filled with righteous indignation. “You and Bucky have given up so much for the world. Maybe it’s time you got something good from it.”

Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Steve’s blue gaze flicked back to the window and the slowing fall snow on the other side. He’d spent so much time under the weight of the shield, and ever since he’d left it behind in Siberia, he’d felt rudderless. Having Bucky back was like a miracle, but even here in France, what was waiting for him back home felt like something ominous.

He knew how hard Darcy was working to clear their names, but even if she did that, Steve wasn’t sure where he fit anymore. The life he’d known before was gone, and everything else felt temporary. Steve tightened his arms around her shoulders, letting out a sigh. “You’re amazing, you know that?” He felt Darcy shift against him, knowing that her cheeks were filling with heat. He’d learned that while she was always up for dishing out compliments, she had a tough time accepting them about herself. As the snow fell outside, Steve decided he was going to work harder on making sure she knew how incredible she was.

When Darcy lifted a hand to her mouth to cover a yawn, Steve pressed his lips to her temple. “We should try and get some sleep. You’ve got to be up in a few hours.”

“Steve Rogers, are you trying to convince me to go to bed with you and Bucky? Because, if you are, you should know that I am one-hundred percent down with that idea.”

Lips lifting, Steve nodded. “Good.”

Chapter Text

"I told you I was going to hurt someone," Darcy said with a frown, pushing through the back door, both arms raised above her head as she stamped the snow from her boots.

"You hurt yourself," Bucky replied, shrugging out of his coat and kicking off his boots. He stayed on his knees, doing the same for Darcy before standing.

"Well, I'm someone, aren't I?"

Bucky's lips lifted in a grin as he tugged Darcy toward the bathroom, walking backward so he could pull the zipper on her jacket. The sky outside was blue, not a cloud to be seen, and since the snow had stopped overnight, taking with it the cutting wind, being outside had been great. Steve had decided to go for another run while Bucky and Darcy trained, but part of Bucky thought the reason Steve hadn't wanted to stick around was because he didn't like to see Darcy put in any situation where pain was possible. All in all, Bucky thought the knife training had gone great; while her first few throws had careened into the snow (one of the main reasons Bucky had chosen black blades), after an hour or so, she was able to hit the large target he'd set up.

He helped Darcy out of her coat, letting it drop to the tile as he reached for the first aid kit in the medicine cabinet. "You were fine until you decided to catch the blade instead of the handle. It's just a nick, you'll survive."

"I'm never going to be as good as you are with a knife."

"Good."

"Good? How about not good? I thought this whole thing was so I'd be able to protect myself." Darcy watched him move around the bathroom with a mission, knowing exactly where all the first-aid supplies were located. She'd always wondered what the boys got up to when she wasn't around - except for the hot scenarios her brain worked up when she didn't want to listen to Tony drone on anymore and let her mind wander - and judging by Bucky's comfortability with bandages, she could only assume some bandage-requiring mishaps had happened in the past. Not that she'd really find any wounds, considering how easily the serum dealt with injuries.

Bucky took a seat on the closed toilet, spreading the first aid supplies on the sink for easy access. "You don't have to have pinpoint accuracy," he said, slipping the small alcohol packet between his teeth and tearing it open. He hooked a finger in one of her pockets and tugged her closer, nodding at her arm. "I want you to be able to throw in the general direction of an enemy so it gives you enough time to run away."

Darcy followed his movements with her eyes, lowering her right hand down for him to see. She'd never enjoyed the sight of blood, especially her own, so she kept her gaze on him and avoided looking at the stinging cut in her palm. "So this is like my taser."

Dipping his head, Bucky passed the alcohol swab over the wound, gray eyes flicking up when she hissed, watching the pain flash in her hazel gaze. When he pulled the swab back, he waited to see how quickly the blood pooled in the wound, happy when it barely bled. He wiped the extra mess from Darcy’s hands and where it'd crept toward her wrist when she'd followed his instructions and lifted both arms above her head, cleaning her skin until you could barely tell anything had happened. "Taser's can be taken from you, or used against you. Blades have better range. You won't have to get as close."

"Hate to burst your bubble, but knives can be taken and used against me, too." When his gray eyes swung back toward her, Darcy could see the concern fill them. It was an odd thing, being happy someone didn't like the thought of you getting hurt, but her stomach flipped anyway. Bucky and Steve had told her over and over how much they cared about her, but seeing the truth of it filling his slate-gray gaze was something else. "Hey, no, we're fine," she said with a grin, cupping his cheek with the palm that wasn't sporting a cut. "I have absolutely no plans to get in a knife throwing contest with anyone, I promise. I'm a lover, Buck, not a fighter."

Bucky nodded, going quiet as he dealt with the task at hand. His thoughts wandered as he spread the ointment on the bandage, internally dissecting the emotions that had welled in his chest at the idea of Darcy being in a situation where she'd have to use the skills he was teaching her. He still worried about Steve, something that had never changed since they were kids, but knowing the serum was pumping through Steve's veins quieted some of his concern.

Darcy, though, had no serum benefits. She had no powers or training. If something went down, if someone attacked, Bucky wasn't sure what he'd do. The feelings that had grown in him were nearly drowning, though normally in the best ways possible. Now, confronted with the idea of Darcy getting injured, Bucky was left reeling by the realization that his feelings for the raven-haired lawyer were anything but ordinary. "I just want to keep you safe," he said as he pulled the plastic tabs from the bandage.

"Same," Darcy said, shrugging her shoulder when Bucky looked up at her with a raised eyebrow. "Except with you. You being safe. You and Steve."

"I know what you meant, doll," Bucky said with a grin, smoothing the bandage over her skin.

As Bucky began gathering everything to put it away, Darcy took a step back, inspecting her hand, thoughts rolling as things went quiet. While things with Steve and Bucky were great - mind-numbingly amazingly great - she'd been struggling with the most basic question.

What comes next?

It was a simple question, but the answer was anything but. After her ashamed freak-out had propelled their relationship forward, her worries still remained. They couldn't live in the cabin forever, cut off from everyone they knew, and once they got back to the real world, what was going to happen? Darcy could make assumptions about how the law would view them once the Accords were amended, but everything else was in the air. Once they left their little lust-bubble that the cabin afforded, what then? What happened next? It had been weighing on her mind for a while now, and ignoring it was quickly becoming impossible.

Darcy leaned her hip against the sink, crossing her arms over her chest. "So... have you given any thought to what you'll do when you get home?"

Bucky's movements slowed at her question, glancing up to see Darcy as she tried to exude nonchalance, but failing. "Not really," he answered, stuffing the unused bandages in the box. "Plans never seem to matter because it all goes pear-shaped anyway."

Frowning, Darcy reached out to squeeze his shoulder. "This time will be different. Your names will be cleared and you can do anything you want. You can go anywhere you want, be anyone you want."

Rising to his feet, Bucky put everything back in the medicine cabinet, shutting it and catching his reflection in the mirror. He stared for a second, feeling an edge of vulnerability at the conversation, but knowing Darcy would never use it against him. "What if I'm not sure who I am now?"

"Hey," Darcy said, closing the distance between them, ignoring the sharp ache in her wound as she fisted her hands in the sweater he wore. "I know who you are. You're James mother fucking Barnes." The smile that sprung to his lips helped chase away some of the darkness that had descended into his eyes. "You don't take shit from nobody."

"Except you."

The look of approval was thick in Darcy's expression. "Well, we all have our own superpowers."

Bucky shook his head from side to side then pressed his lips to hers softly. The grin she gave him when he pulled back was warm, and he followed after her when she left the bathroom. He hung both of their coats by the back door, eyes sweeping over the white landscape for any hint of his best friend.

Darcy absently picked at the edge of the bandage as she looked up at Bucky's back. When they'd first arrived, the soldier had carried tension in his entire body. It'd hunched his shoulders, caused him pain, his whole body dealing with the aftereffects of everything that had been done to him. It was impossible not to see the difference, the old saying of 'time heals all wounds' proving true. She was certain having Steve at his side had helped, and while she didn't think she deserved the accolades they continued to lob at her, Darcy was ecstatic if she'd been able to help in any kind of way.

Watching Bucky wait for Steve to return, Darcy looked back down at her hands. "Has Steve talked about what he wants to do?"

Turning at her question, Bucky watched Darcy pretend that her query had been asked absently and that she wasn't waiting on his answer with bated breath. "I think he kinda likes not having a plan for once."

"The man has been running since 1941, I can't really blame him for wanting a break."

Bucky grinned to himself at Darcy's words, certain she didn't realize how true that was. He'd been chasing after Steven Rogers since they were children, even before the pale, sickly blond had gotten help from Erskine's formula. He left his post by the window, falling into the space beside Darcy on the couch. "What about you?"

"Uhhh..." Darcy hummed, tongue darting out to wet her lips, "I don't know. I had a pretty good gig in Paris at the firm, but..." She wasn't sure how to answer him. It was something she'd been questioning herself, and saying it out loud, where it couldn't be taken back, seemed terrifying. She wished it was as easy as 'I want to be with you and Steve,' but that desire alone came with so many considerations that easy was not a word she'd have chosen.

Seeing the struggle in Darcy's eyes made Bucky move on instinct, wanting to erase the heaviness from her gaze. He moved so he could pull his hand through her hair, curling it around a finger, giving her an encouraging smile. "You'll figure it out," he said, "you've got an amazing brain in that head of yours."

"This 'ol thang? Can't do nothing with it." The laugh that sounded from his chest was bright and Darcy wanted to wrap it around her shoulders like a blanket, wanted to wear it like a badge of honor. The awkwardness had momentarily vanished, light taking over for the uncertainty, and when Steve pushed through the back door, sweat beading his forehead, both Darcy and Bucky held out hands to him, smiles on their faces.

"Steven Grant Rogers, what the fuck!?"

Bucky went still in his peripheral vision, but Steve very carefully kept a pleasant expression on his face, seemingly unperturbed by the woman screaming his name. He took another sip from his mug, letting out a breath as he set it down on the table. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"What's wrong? What's wrong? I'll tell you what's wrong!" Darcy stalked down the hallway, a bundle of clothes in her arms, a look of open accusation on her face. "You washed my underwear!"

"...So?"

Bucky's tongue clicked in admonishment, shaking his head comically at Steve. "Why on Earth would you have done such a horrible, vile thing?"

"I made that chore chart for a reason, and what does it say along the bottom?" Darcy crossed to the fridge and pointed a bit of pink lace at the phrase. "It says Everyone does their own laundry, and yet, here my stuff is, clean and not by my own hand!"

"Aw, give the kid a break," Bucky said when he rose to his feet to rinse out his cereal bowl, stopping long enough to press his lips to Darcy's pink-tinted cheek, "maybe he just got bored."

"Don't you encourage him," Darcy said with a glare in the other solider's direction, her eyes swinging back toward Steve when Bucky held up his hands in defeat. "I can do my own laundry, Rogers."

"I know you can, Darcy."

"And I'm not gonna do yours."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

The complacent way Steve was agreeing with her did nothing to ease the annoyance that thrummed with her pulse. If anything, it made it worse. "Keep your paws off my underwear, you get me?"

Bucky made his way to Darcy, wrapping arms around her shoulders and resting his chin on the crown of her head. "Might want to think of a better way to put that, doll, as I'm pretty sure you asked him to touch your underwear last night."

"You wanted me to rip them off, if memory serves," Steve said, watching Bucky's grin widen exponentially at Darcy's snort of indignation.

"Sure, yeah, yuck it up, you two, see where it gets you," Darcy growled, ducking out of Bucky's arms, several underwear falling from her hands and fluttering to the floor.

"We're not yucking anything."

"Yucking is the absolute furthest thing from my mind. Promise."

Darcy bent over and grabbed her fallen clothing with jerky movements, frustration making her irritable. "How about you just call me when dinner's ready?"

"Yes, ma'am," Steve said, waiting until she’d huffed out of sight to share a dark smirk with Bucky.

"You did that on purpose, didn't you?" When Steve just reached for his mug again, Bucky's smirk slanted, seeing the devious glint in his best friend's eyes. "You're such a little shit, Rogers."

Chapter Text

“You need to go outside.”

Darcy frowned when she looked up at Tony, pen stilling in her hand, brain trying to shift from what she was working on to process his demand. “Huh?”

Tony sighed, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his slacks and rocking back on his heels. “Did I stutter? I said you need to go outside.”

Used to Tony's odd antics by now, Darcy sighed as she flipped the pages of her legal pad. “I heard what you said, asshole, but I don’t know why.”

“It's a simple request."

Darcy’s frown deepened. “Stark, just tell me why -” When the hologram in front of her disappeared, she let out a shout of annoyance and jumped to her feet. "He hung up on me!" she said in disbelief, blinking at the place the man had just been standing in. "What a fucking asshole!" She continued to grumble to herself as she gathered her things, stuffing their work in her bag before flipping out the lights and heading to the front of the cafe.

Sabine was standing at the register like normal, but the expression on her face was one of confusion. "Quelque chose a été livré pour vous, Grace." (Something was delivered for you, Grace.)

"Est-ce derrière le comptoir?" (Is it behind the counter?)

"Non, ça ne va pas. C'est dehors." (No. It wouldn't fit. It's outside.)

Taking in a deep breath, Darcy hitched her bag higher on her shoulder and wound her way to the front of the shop, the bell over the door ringing as she stepped outside. She stood there on the stoop, blinking at the item Tony had sent her.

The car was old, probably older than she was, and in its heyday, Darcy was certain the bright yellow paint was something to see. Now, however, the paint had faded to a buttercream that was dotted by rust, and in several places she could see all the way through to the engine block. As she stood there, shoulders lifting and falling with a sigh, Darcy couldn't really blame Tony for his choice; the town was little and the cars that whipped around the streets had also seen better days. If nothing else, the car was definitely inconspicuous, and it solved her worry about how she'd get to and from the cabin when the snow got heavy enough.

Regardless, Darcy's steps were heavy as she made her way closer, seeing the note and set of keys on the drivers side seat. She managed to get her bike in the backseat (by having both windows open and her seat pushed all the way up), and as she turned the keys in the ignition, she was one-hundred percent unsurprised when the car whined before it started. She recognized the squeal of a bad belt, a consistent high-pitched humming, and reached for Tony's note with another sigh.

Darcy's lips twitched up at the missive, easily reading between the lines. She tucked the note into her bag before pressing her foot on the brake and shifting it into gear. The wheels moved her several feet forward before it issued a few puttering sounds before going silent. The laugh that bubbled out of her mouth was colored with amusement, wondering if Tony'd planned on the stalling, or if it was just a lovely bit of fate. Darcy pressed her forehead to the steering wheel, shoulders shaking with giggles before she shifted back to park and turned the key again. This time it started up with no issues, except for the constant squeal, and she began the journey back to the cabin and the two men waiting for her.

"She's late."

Steve glanced over at Bucky, watching as he paced near the front door. He'd grown dizzy, following Bucky’s movements from one side of the cabin to the other, peeking through the window every third or fourth pass, so Steve'd grabbed his sketch pad to distract himself. "It's fine," he assured Bucky, seeing that his words did nothing to ease the anxiety and worry that had tightened Bucky's shoulders.

Bucky shook his head, fingers fisting and unfisting at his sides, breath huffing out of his nostrils as more and more time passed. It was getting darker earlier and earlier each day, and since there were no street lamps or lights lighting the roads, Bucky knew it could be dangerous. They'd been lucky, still waiting for the first really heavy snowfall that would make them snowbound, but as the sun dipped lower and the snow began to increase, all he could think about were the dangers.

It's an old car.
Could have broken down.
Not below freezing, but hypothermia is possible.
It can get cold.
So cold.
Someone from town could have taken her.
Not safe.

"She's never been this late before," Bucky said, glancing over at Steve with a glare, steps heavy on the wood floor.

"Buck, she probably just got caught up," Steve answered, sighing as he put his work aside. "You know how she can be when she gets in the middle of something. Hard to get her to focus anywhere else." He climbed to his feet, crossing the space so he could stand closer to Bucky, practically feeling the waves of alarm Bucky was giving off.

Bucky shook his head sharply from side to side, feeling the fingernails of his right hand digging into his palm. “Something’s wrong, Steve. Something’s wrong.”

“You don’t know that, you can’t know that.”

“Someone could have found us,” Bucky argued, brushing off Steve’s hand on his shoulder, leaning forward to peer out the window. “We’ve been here for too long. We should have stayed on the move. Harder to track that way.”

“Buck -”

Bucky held up his hand, Steve falling silent at the look on his face. His gray gaze swung from the window to Steve. “Did you hear that?”

“I didn’t hear -”

“Shhh!” Bucky opened the front door, a blast of cold air and wind blowing the hair back from his face. He stood in the doorway, eyes wide and searching. “I heard something.”

“I don’t…” Steve trailed off when he heard the whisper of something outside, coming from the direction of town. The woods that surrounded them were thick, the upper canopy keeping most of the snow away, but in the clearing around the cabin, he could hear the slowly falling precipitation as it hit the ground. He dipped his head, ears straining to hear anything that could have caused the thread of fear in Bucky's eyes.

When the loud echoing sound split the quiet evening, there was a second where both men's eyes met, a single moment where Steve could see what Bucky was about to do. "Bucky!" He reached out in an attempt to stop Bucky, but his fingertips barely brushed his best friend's arm as Bucky flew out the door, no hesitation in his movements as he streaked into the darkened forest. Steve glanced down at his clothing and his lack of shoes, jaw tightening as he threw himself forward, chasing after Bucky.

Gunfire.
They found us.
Tech didn't alert us.
Tech lies.
She's hurt.
They'll use her.
Hurt.
Torture.
Kill.
My fault.

"Mother fucker..." Darcy brushed at the coffee she'd spilled all over herself, murder on her mind.

The car backfiring had made her scream and jump, destroying the roast Sabine had made specifically for her. She hadn't meant to leave so late, but working to find precedent was a laborious job and one she oddly enjoyed. Like most things Darcy focused on, she'd gotten so wrapped up in it that when she'd looked up and seen what time it was, she'd cursed and thrown her things into her bag in a rush. The internet cafe owner had been waiting with to-go cup like some kind of lifesaving angel, and though driving through snow wasn't ideal, Darcy knew she'd be fine getting home.

If this car doesn't kill me first, she thought bitterly, hand steady on the wheel while still trying to clean up the mess her coffee had made. She knew nothing was ruined, but it was the principle of the thing that annoyed her. Letting out a sigh, Darcy looked back to the road, seeing nothing but blackness and snowflakes streaming toward her windshield. A small smile turned her lips as she reached to flip the defrosters on again. "Punch it to light speed, Chewie," Darcy mimed, grinning when the black and snow resembled the Millennium Falcon going into hyperspace.

When Darcy passed through the barrier than hid the cabin from view, she let out a loud scream, foot slamming on the brake, surprise not a heavy enough word to describe it when Bucky seemingly appeared out of nowhere, heading straight for her. She tried her best, jerking the wheel to the right, but she felt the impact of his body on the hood and heard the crunch of metal when he flew up and over the roof.

When she finally came skidding to a stop, eyes impossibly wide and breathing heavily, Darcy tried to make sense out of what had just happened. "Oh my god," she panted, unclipping her seatbelt and throwing open her door. She took a step away from the car then screamed again when something hit her door at great speed, slamming it shut with a metallic groan. "Oh my god!"

Steve hadn't expected Darcy to throw open her door, but the hip check he'd given the car had barely stopped his momentum forward. Seeing that Darcy was safe, Steve focused his attention on his best friend, who'd been thrown into the brush and snow that lined the one-car wide path. Steve didn't see movement at first, stomach plummeting as he slid across the ground, but his worry only deepened when he realized Bucky's body was shaking. "Bucky?"

"Fuck, fuck! What happened? Oh god, is he okay?" Darcy fell to her knees beside Steve, only the headlights and open door of the car giving them any kind of illumination. Bucky's body was shaking violently, but as her hazel eyes swept over him, looking for any visible wounds, she saw none. Neither he nor Steve appeared to be injured on the surface, but as Bucky's body shook, Darcy knew something was wrong. "Steve?"

Steve's hands hovered over Bucky's body, heart pounding, not exactly sure what to do. He'd seen Bucky brush off worse impacts, which made Steve think that this was something more that just physical pain. Bucky had run out of the house in sweatpants, a tank top, with nothing on his feet, but even that didn't make sense to Steve, as he'd chased after Bucky while wearing the same thing. The snow was cold against Steve's skin, but with the serum running through their veins, neither of them should have been effected so easily. "You were late and he was worried and then he thought he heard a gunshot -"

"It was the car," Darcy said, voice dripping with concern, "it backfired. I'm sorry I was late, I didn't -"

"It's not your fault, Darcy," Steve said, eyes swinging over to see the guilt in her hazel eyes. "Are you okay?"

"Am I okay? I'm fine! I'm worried about him! Is he okay? Is it okay to move him? Bucky?" Darcy bent over, reaching up to brush some hair from his forehead, looking into his face. His face didn't change expression, his jaw tightened so his teeth didn't click together. "Steve, is he okay? We've got to get him inside."

When Darcy moved back, Steve slipped an arm around Bucky's shoulders and the other under his knees, lifting him easily. Feeling the tremors shaking Bucky's body filled Steve with white hot concern, fear gripping him. When they'd reached Wakanda, after the disaster in Siberia, Steve had witnessed Bucky having flashbacks, struggling with the traumatic memories that he was re-experiencing. Sounds could trigger Bucky, even specific scents, but he'd been doing so good over the past few months that it was easy to forget all the evil that had been done to him. Steve had gotten complacent in their happiness and he'd missed the signs that Bucky was on the edge of something. "I'll carry him."

"Okay," Darcy said with a nod, hand reaching out to squeeze Steve's arm before she crossed toward the car. It was still running, the muffler spitting every few seconds, but when she tried to pull open the driver's side door, it wouldn't budge. She didn't have time to mess with it, the only thought in her head screaming that she needed to help Bucky, so she ran to the passenger side, reaching across the seat to turn off the car and headlights. She grabbed her things and ran after Steve, catching up with him as he began climbing the front steps. "We gotta get him warm."

Steve waited for Darcy to open the door, angling Bucky across the threshold and setting the man on his own feet just inside the door. There was a haze to Bucky's face, his expression distant, like he wasn't seeing what was in front of him. "Buck?"

Darcy's chest froze in fear when Bucky didn't respond to Steve, fists shaking at his sides, his lips lacking their normal pink color, tinted something closer to purple. "Can you guys go into shock?"

"I don't... I don't know," Steve said, pressing his palm to Bucky's cheek, feeling the grinding of Bucky's teeth as the soldier did his best to stop the shaking. "We were only out there a few seconds."

"Then it's not hypothermia," Darcy reasoned, feeling helpless as Bucky continued to shiver. Slowly, the training she'd gotten in her CPR class filtered through her worry and she glanced toward the hallway before her attention swung back toward Bucky and Steve. "Help me get his wet clothes off," she said, hands grabbing the wet and sweaty tank top and pulling it over his head.

When Bucky was fully nude, Darcy tugged on his hand and led him toward the bathroom, Steve following closely behind. She flipped on the tap and ran her hand under it, eyes flicking up to watch Steve wrap his arms around Bucky from behind. There was a flash of acknowledgment in Bucky's eyes, but it faded just as quickly as it'd appeared. As the water began to fill the tub, Darcy and Steve moved carefully, no sudden movements, helping Bucky climb in and sit back against the porcelain.

She'd been so worried about Bucky that she hadn't given a second thought to either herself or Steve. Both of them were covered in wet snow, their clothes practically soaked through. Steve's bare feet matched Bucky's, both of them covered in tiny scrapes and cuts, but Darcy'd seen them heal wounds like those overnight. She shrugged out of her coat, letting it fall uselessly to the floor. She kicked off her shoes, undressing until she was in just her bra and panties. She reached out and tugged on Steve's hand when he continued to look at Bucky, expression soft and waiting. When Steve's worried eyes slid toward her, she felt his pain in her chest. "You need to get out of those wet clothes or you'll catch a cold."

"Cold," Bucky said with chattering teeth, barely feeling the warmth of the water rising around him. He saw Steve and Darcy move in his peripheral vision, both of their worried faces turning to him, but he kept his eyes focused on his feet, afraid to look anywhere else, following the water as it lifted over his toes. "Always c-cold. Can't run. Can't hide. Fear and freeze, over and over and over..."

As Bucky began shaking harder, this time joined by tears, it became painfully clear that this was about more than her being late, that something had triggered Bucky's memories of trauma and pulled everything to the surface. Darcy didn't hesitate, climbing into the tub behind him, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, chin pressed against the slick skin of his back. "It's okay," she soothed him, tears pricking her own eyes when he continued to cry, "we're okay, shhhhh, I know, I'm sorry, you're okay."

Steve undressed quickly then knelt on the floor next to them, the slapping of water as the tub filled momentarily stealing the sounds of Bucky's emotions. He reached out to squeeze Bucky's shoulder, just so he knew he was there, so Bucky knew he wasn't going anywhere. "You're safe," Steve breathed, knowing his words would do little to ease Bucky's torment, but feeling like he needed to do something, "we're all safe." When the water had gotten deep enough, Steve flipped off the tap, the sudden silence making the room feel massive though it was barely big enough for the three of them to stand in comfortably.

Uncontrollable sniffles shook Bucky's body, but as the water began to cool, he seemed to settle into something like stillness. The sag of his shoulders spoke volumes, the exhaustion as deep as his bones, and when Darcy suggested they dry off, it took both her and Steve to extract him from the tub. He could barely keep his eyes open as they ran towels over his body and Darcy drug a brush through his hair, drained so badly that he'd gone unresponsive. When Steve and Darcy fitted against his sides after depositing him in bed, their warmth surrounding him, it only took a few seconds before Bucky fell into an exhausted sleep.

When Bucky's breathing evened out and his face took on an expression of rest, Darcy tore her hazel eyes from his face to look at Steve, the blond's eyebrows furrowed in worry. "Hey," she said, reaching across to squeeze his arm, "he'll be okay."

"It started to get dark out and you weren't home yet and he... it didn't matter what I said, the stress of it all, and then we heard the car backfire and before I could stop him, he just threw himself out the door and ran."

Darcy's frown deepened. "I've been late before and he's never reacted this bad. What changed?" The second the question fell from her lips, Darcy already had her answer. They'd changed. The three of them. Before the shift in their relationship, Darcy had functioned as almost a separate entity. She'd trusted Steve and Bucky, and she knew that they were protective of each other, but now that they were a them, it was clear feelings ran a little deeper than before. "Oh."

Confused, Steve watched something occur to Darcy that made her mouth fall closed. "What?" When she looked up at him, an eyebrow raised, he understood what she'd meant. "This isn't your fault, Darcy."

"I know," Darcy assured him, reaching out to run her hand down the side of his face, fingers scratching through his beard, "it's not my fault, not yours, not his. He's been through a lot and I think I just got lazy since things have been so good. He's made so much progress."

"Thanks to you." Steve didn't let her flippant expression stop him from saying what he wanted to say, needing to make her understand. "Darcy, before we got here, both of us were lost. We had each other, and a ghost of the past, but that was it. Being here, with you? It's healed things in us that I didn't think we'd ever come back from."

"You're giving me too much credit, Steve," Darcy said with a shake of her head, her voice soft but stern. "He wouldn't have made it here if it wasn't for you. You literally fought against your country to get to him, to help him, to keep him safe. He told me once that despite everything Hydra did to him, they never seemed to erase you completely. You were in too deep, took up too much of his heart. You think he would have gotten here if you weren't at his side and in his corner?"

Steve looked down at the only man who'd ever held his heart, his best friend, his first love, and felt a swell of emotion nearly overtake him. When he reached out for Darcy's hand, she took it immediately, her fingers wrapped tightly around his. "He'll be alright," Steve said with an optimistic smile, eyes rolling up to hold Darcy's, "he's strong."

"He is," Darcy agreed, a grin curling her lips as she watched a light fill Steve's eyes. "When I get in tomorrow I'll ask Tony if there's a way we can communicate between me in town and you guys back here. There's gotta be something we can do. I know he wants to keep us as off the grid as possible, but I think he's being paranoid."

"Tony knows his stuff." When Darcy raised an eyebrow at him, he gave her a shrug of his shoulders. "We might not agree on some things, but I never doubt him when it comes to tech."

"Regardless," Darcy said with a roll of her eyes, "I'll be firmly expressing my displeasure at the lack of contact."

"He won't know what hit him." There was a grin on Darcy's face, something warm and comforting, and when he looked at Bucky, his features smooth and peaceful as he slept, Steve was struck by how fiercely he would fight to keep the pair of them safe. He wasn't naive, and he expected many more things to go wrong in the future, but finally, he felt like he wasn't fighting for Bucky alone anymore. There was another set of hands ready and waiting to help, and it meant everything to Steve. As he settled against his pillow, an arm stretched across Bucky's chest so he could feel the softness of Darcy's skin under his fingertips, Steve said a silent prayer of thanks before he followed Bucky and Darcy into slumber.

Chapter Text

"Good morning."

"What's wrong?"

Darcy stopped in the middle of pulling her laptop from her bag, glancing over at the hologram image of Tony, an eyebrow raised. "What?"

"I asked what's wrong," Tony repeated, pulling off his glasses and hanging them on his shirt. "Something's wrong. You said ‘good morning’ to me."

"Uh, most people say ‘good morning’ when seeing someone first thing in the AM," Darcy said with an eye roll, continuing to unpack her things.

"Not you, and not with me. You've got this," Tony waved his hand through the air in her general direction, "thing about you. It's heavy, so I'll ask again: what's wrong?"

Darcy knew better than to try and brush off Tony's concerns. The man was tenacious when he wanted to be, and as Darcy had grown to know him over the past year, she'd had to begrudgingly admit that Tony was actually a good guy, buried beneath all that bravado and unresolved daddy-issues. "Do you think you'd be able to get Jane for me?"

"Why? What's wrong?"

Sighing, Darcy crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at him. "It's not really a subject that I'd come to you for advice."

"Why?"

She was certain she'd never been so annoyed by a single word in all her life. "Oh, I don't know, do people often share their deepest, darkest insecurities with you?"

Tony looked unimpressed by her sarcasm. "You're be surprised."

Darcy threw herself into a seat, spinning softly from side to side as she debated what to say. He was only there because she'd activated the device that allowed them to work together like they were, and if she wanted, it'd be almost too easy to just flip the device off and head back home. She seriously considered it before throwing her hands up in the air, her anxiety getting the best of her. "I have a problem and I don't know how to solve it."

"It's a good thing you're speaking to a genius, then, isn't it?" Tony made no outward reaction to the middle finger she angled toward him. "If you don't want to tell me anything, at least give me an analogy so I can help."

Doubt you've got a lot of real world experience in this genre, Rust Bucket, Darcy thought as she chewed on her bottom lip. As she peered at him, she could see that the light in Tony’s eyes was honest. He actually andhonestly wanted to help her. That, more than anything, made her relent. "I've got two possible job opportunities after we get the Accords sorted out."

Tony took a seat, scooting until he could lean on the table, brown eyes bright as he regarded her. "Good pay?"

"One of them, yeah. It'd be..." Darcy trailed off, imagining what it'd be like after this all went away. Once the Accords were solved, there'd be no reason for Bucky or Steve to stay in France. They were only there to stay hidden, to bide their time until they could return home to the States. Darcy, however, had been planning to stay in Paris and start her career.

Since arriving at the cabin, things had shifted so entirely that she wasn't sure what she wanted anymore. Thinking of leaving Steve and Bucky made her throat tighten with sadness, but she also knew this situation was only temporary. Once their names were cleared, there was nothing keeping them in Europe. Nothing to keep them with her. "It'd be more money than I’d know what to do with."

"So what's the problem?"

"It's a lot of money," Darcy said, gaze flicking up toward him, a frown turning her lips, "and I'm not sure I'm responsible enough to handle it."

Tony's eyes took in her posture, the uncertainty on her face, and the way her leg bounced with anxiety. When she seemed to return to the conversation, he gestured at her. "And the other job?"

"It's comfortable. It's what I know. It's not that exciting, but it'd be safer. Less risk."

"But you wouldn't get all the perks of the first job?" When Darcy nodded, Tony sat forward in his chair, resting his elbows on his knees, gaze sharp behind his glasses. "So it's not really about the job, then, it's about the fear."

Darcy's frown grew deeper. "What do you mean?"

"The comfortable job is your version of a safety school."

"I thought we were using job metaphors."

"Fine," Tony said with a dismissing wave of his hand, "then the comfortable job is like... tenure. You’d know what to expect every day. No new surprises, no new thrills, just the monotony of the same thing, over and over and over."

"I don't know if I'd go that far. There's still exciting things with the second option, it's just -"

"Whatever,” Tony said with another swing of his hand, cutting her off, “look at it this way: this new thing, the new job, it's exciting, right? Keeps you on your toes? Makes you feel like you're accomplishing something and it's something you enjoy doing?"

Darcy was almost certain that if Tony knew what they were really talking about, he'd have chosen his words differently. As it was, she felt the heat flush into her cheeks as she remembered just how much she enjoyed what she did with Bucky and Steve. "Yeah."

"So you're scared to put yourself out there where you could fail."

"It wouldn't just be me," Darcy said with a shake of her head, "the new job would affect other people as well, and there's no certainty that it'd last."

"Almost nothing lasts forever in this world, kiddo. It's the only thing you can count on. You've never struck me as someone who lets fear scare them away from something. It's part of the reason you're there in the first place, remember?"

Darcy sat back in her chair, drumming fingers against her lips as she stared into the dark eyes looking at her. "You think I'd be a coward not to go for the new job."

"You've got to risk it to get the biscuit."

The grimace that crossed Darcy's face was one of pain. "Oh, god, please never say that again."

"Shut up. Look. Listen. Look and listen," Tony said, rising to his feet. "I don't have a lot of room to talk when it comes to stability, or job security, or whatever metaphor we're using now, but I do know a thing or two about fear. I've been to the edge and back, and yeah, looking into the black is terrifying, but no one on their deathbed is going to be thankful for all the lines they colored between; they're going to want to look up at all the art on their walls and know that they regret nothing."

Darcy looked up at Tony with an impressed look on her face. "That almost made sense," she said, lips turning up.

"Did it help?"

"Maybe."

"Then my work here is done. Metaphorically speaking, of course. We've still got an insane amount of work to do, so show me what you've got..."

The Soldier’s hand tightened his grip on the blade, lifting it so it hovered near his jaw, ready to bring it down when the target was within range. He held his breath, going still enough that he blended into the shadows, lost to sight and sound. His heartbeat was steady, eyes the only thing that moved. He waited.

When the target was within range, The Soldier rushed forward, boot connecting with a hand and sending the gun that’d been clutched in it skittering to the underbrush. The blows were heavy, knuckles hitting flesh, and the Soldier’s eyes narrowed in the dark when the blade in his hand was knocked away.

The Soldier brought his fist down hard on the target’s shoulder, hearing a cry of pain. The target stumbled backward, tripping through the trees, attempting to put space between them. The Soldier followed slowly, having memorized the terrain, knowing there was no help in the direction the target was heading. The Soldier froze when voices from behind them split the night air.

Hearing a change in the target’s steps made The Soldier freeze. For whatever reason, the target was coming back toward him, turned around in the trees that surrounded the military barracks. The Soldier pulled that deadly quiet around his shoulders like a cloak, waiting for his moment. Once again, the target appeared, holding one side of his ribs and breathing heavy.

The silver of a knife blade gleamed in the moonlight as it flew through the air, a dull thud sounding when it hit its mark, a scream following closely behind. The Soldier closed the distance between him and his prey, his knees hitting the dirt next to the target’s body. As the man writhed on the ground, eyes wide with fear, The Soldier yanked the knife out, earning another shout, but the sound was cut off as the knife plunged back into his chest, over and over, until all breathing ceased completely.

Fingers dipped below the other man’s neckline, pulling on the chain hidden beneath his fatigues. It didn’t matter what was on the USB, the only thing the Soldier cared about was bringing it back. He could hear movement behind him as he zipped the device into his vest, barely securing it before a hand gripped his shoulder.

They rolled over the ground, down a small hill, the Soldier’s hands wrapping around the bodyguard’s neck, metal plates clicking and rearranging as he squeezed.

Darcy slapped at Bucky’s arms, a gurgle sounding from her throat, her heart speeding as her body thrummed with panic. Moonlight from between the curtains cut across Bucky’s face, and she could see nothing of the man she knew in those grey eyes. Something else was looking down at her. Someone else.

When Bucky whimpered in his sleep, it’d become second nature for Darcy to reach out and comfort him, hand raising to squeeze his shoulder. She’d barely opened her eyes when he’d rolled on top of her, hands circling her neck, one more roll sending them both to the ground. Her heels slammed against the hardwood as she struggled, the edges of her vision going dark, her slaps slowing as she began to lose consciousness.

A hand gripped the back of Bucky’s neck and threw him away from Darcy, Bucky’s body flying through the air before it crashed into the wall. Steve was at Darcy’s side, eyes wide, hands hovering over her body as she coughed, fear and worry so thick he could barely breathe past it. He cast a glance over his shoulder and watched as Bucky stirred, splinters of wood scattered around him on the floor. He turned back to Darcy when she took a heaving breath inward, tears streaming from the corner of her eyes, cheeks colored red. “Darcy?”

Darcy blinked past her tears, body on fire as she took in gulp after gulp of air, dizzy with lack of oxygen. Her hands gripped at Steve, eyes wide as she gasped, fingers digging into his arms. She tried to slow her breathing, tried to calm her racing heartbeat, but each breath inward brought on another stab of pain. She saw movement, watching as Bucky lifted his head from the floor and looked up at her and Steve. Whoever had been in his eyes before was gone, and she was left looking at Bucky, gaze flashing with confusion. Darcy tried to call his name, but it only brought on another coughing fit, chest aching as she curled onto her side.

“D-Darcy?” Bucky’s eyes tried to take in the scene, tried to understand what had happened. He remembered falling asleep beside Darcy, Steve remaining in the living room, attention caught in a decades-old novel. He remembered closing his eyes, snuggling closer to Darcy, taking in a deep lungful of her almond and honey scent before drifting off. Then he’d felt the impact of his body hitting the wall.

He didn’t understand why Steve was bent over Darcy protectively, a hand on her shoulder as she coughed, Steve’s blue eyes uncertain but steady, his posture clearly waiting for an additional attack. Bucky looked over his shoulder for the threat, but saw only the impact on the wall, the one shaped like him. Slowly, horrible realization filtering through his mind and Bucky looked down at his hands, fingers curling against the hardwood, understanding burning in his head, white noise drowning everything else.

“Darcy, are you okay? Hey! Look at me!” When Darcy’s eyes rolled then blinked up at Steve, he could see the whites of her eyes held a pink tint, and the redness on her throat hinted toward the bruises that would ring her neck. The imprints of Bucky’s fingers. She opened her mouth to say something but choked, another series of body wracking coughs stealing her words. He looked back up at Bucky, the hardness in his eyes fading as he watched his best friend’s face fill with horror. “Bucky?”

Bucky looked up at his name, seeing the worry and uneasiness in Steve before his gaze flicked down to the woman on the floor, watching as she writhed in pain, his heart speeding with shame. What did I do? Oh god, what did I do? WhatdidIdowhatdidIdowhatdidIdo

“B-b-bucky,” Darcy rasped, eyes watering, one of her hands stretching out in his direction.

Steve watched Bucky’s body tense seconds before his best friend scrambled to his feet, stumbling as he ran from the room, the sound of the back door slamming open ringing through the cabin. He turned his attention back to Darcy, body filled with worry, hands smoothing over her hair. “Are you -”

“Go!” Darcy gasped, throat burning as she tried to clear it, pushing past the fear and pain, “get him!”

Steve shook his head, eyes softening as he looked down at her, noting the wideness of her eyes and the way her gaze kept flicking toward the door. She was slapping at his hands, shoving him in the direction Bucky had just gone. He stayed fast, needing to know she was alright. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Darcy croaked, pushing at Steve’s chest, arm reaching so she could fist her hand in the comforter and use the bed to pull herself to a kneeling position. “Go find him!”

“Darcy -”

“Steve,” Darcy whispered, the only way she could speak that didn’t cause her pain, pressing a hand to her chest, “it’s cold. Snows. No shoes. Please, please go get him.”

“Are you -”

“Go!”

Jaw tightening, Steve glanced at the door before he gave Darcy one more look. He pressed his lips to her forehead before sprinting from the room, tearing after the man who already had a head start. It wasn’t hard to follow the disturbed snow of Bucky’s wake, his movements jagged, footfalls heavy. As he followed the trail, recognizing the landscape, Steve realized where Bucky was running. The blond’s speed picked up, chest heaving as he pushed his body as fast as he could, panic rising with each pump of his legs.

After a quarter mile Steve skidded to a stop, recognizing Bucky’s silhouette among the darkened trees. There was a bag held limply in his hand, and Steve knew it was one of the backpacks they’d hidden around the area after first arriving at the cabin, bags they could use to flee if they were discovered. There were weapons in the bag, but some part of Steve knew Bucky hadn’t gone to it for the guns or blades. Bucky had gone for the cash and other resources inside, the ones that would help him escape, to run away. Steve watched Bucky go as still as a statue, feeling the anxiety bleeding from the other soldier, his muscles tensed and ready to resume running. “Don’t,” Steve said, the quiet of the forest making his voice carry, “don’t run away.”

Bucky couldn’t feel his body, couldn’t feel the cold of the snow on his feet, or the wetness on his sweatpants where he’d fallen; the only thing he could feel was terror as it raged in his brain. Bucky heard Steve move closer and his hand tightened its grip on the backpack, prepared to take off into the night at any second. “I hurt her,” Bucky growled, eyes swinging when Steve entered his peripheral vision.

“Don’t run away,” Steve repeated, hands up and held open, careful not to move too quickly and force a violent reaction from his best friend.

“I hurt her!” Bucky shouted, his voice splitting the air, looking over at Steve with accusation in his eyes, “I have to leave!”

“Darcy sent me out here,” Steve said, watching Bucky flinch at her name, “she sent me out here to bring you back.”

Bucky shook his head, certain that wasn’t true, not after what he’d just done. It couldn’t be true. He was a monster, he was their monster, Hydra’s poison sinking in his bones, evil and blackness on all sides, blood coating his hands that could never be cleaned. “I’m too dangerous to be around anyone. I have to -.”

“I’m not going to do that.” Steve circled Bucky slowly, until he was standing in front of the other man, only a few feet separating them. “Darcy wanted me to get you, so I’m going to get you. You can either come with me willingly or you can make me fight you.” His voice dropped, dripping with worry. “Please don’t make me fight you.”

As Steve stared at him, one hand still outstretched in his direction, Bucky could feel his body getting ready to run, hearing the white noise and knowing he was on the verge of blanking completely, seconds away from letting the Soldier take over and do as he’d been trained. He’d been naive to think he’d ever break free of Hydra’s control completely, and the idea that he could hurt Darcy and not know it filled him with a horror so absolute that it was hard to breathe, chest aching with self-hatred and revulsion

When Bucky closed his eyes, drawing what strength he had left for his escape, an image flashed through his mind. Darcy was smiling softly as she held herself above him, eyes filled with happiness, reaching out to push a wayward fringe of hair back from his forehead, her ringing laughter echoing.

Bucky’s shoulders sagged, the backpack dropping to the snow at his side. He managed to take in a deep, shuddering breath before falling to his knees, arms hanging limply at his sides.

Steve moved slowly, not wanting to startle Bucky, unsure if the fight had truly drained from his best friend. He held a hand out, waiting, letting out the breath he’d been holding when Bucky grabbed his hand like it was a lifeline, grip tight. “I need you to promise me that you won’t disappear, Buck. Promise me you won’t run away.” Steve’s voice held a steady thread of worry, legitimately concerned that what he’d just done would push Bucky toward the edge. There were a few beats of silence before Bucky nodded.

They stayed there like that for several minutes, their breaths fogging in the air, what had just happened weighing the night like a yoke. Steve helped Bucky to his feet, unsurprised when the soldier pulled his hand back, breaking their physical contact before turning back toward the cabin and starting in its direction. Hesitating, uncertainty and worry still pinging through him, Steve followed Bucky, the silence of the forest deafening.

Chapter Text

The light above the sink in their tiny bathroom did nothing for Darcy's skin, highlighting the purple and green bruises that ringed her neck. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, stomach falling as she turned her head this way and that, getting a good look at everything. In addition to the bruises on her neck, the whites of her eyes had taken on a pink tint, blotches of red petechiae marks surrounding her irises. The breath in her lungs huffed outward as her eyes closed, and Darcy gripped the porcelain with both hands, head hanging as she breathed past the pain, her throat scratching, a coughing jag just seconds away.

Swallowing harshly, trying to coat her throat, Darcy’s eyes fluttered open, a determined expression on her face. She pulled open the medicine cabinet, grabbing the minimal makeup she'd brought with her to the cabin. The concealer wasn't meant to cover such a large swath of skin, but she tried it anyway, spreading the liquid in a futile attempt to cover the bruises. When it became clear that none of the makeup she owned would be able to hide the marks, she decided the best thing she could do was throw on a turtleneck and hope no one said anything.

Darcy grabbed the doorknob and turned, taking a step into the hallway before freezing, eyes widening slightly when they landed on Bucky, who was standing at the threshold of the kitchen. There was a second of time when their eyes met, a weighted silence falling over the hallway before Bucky turned on his heel and started toward the back door.

"Bucky, wait -" She sighed when the slam of the door was the only response, Darcy’s shoulders falling and rolling forward. She jumped, a shout breaking from her throat when a hand was placed on her shoulder from behind. She spun to find Steve looking at her with apology in the blue of his eyes. She brought a hand to her chest, ears filled with the sound of blood being pumped as it sped through her veins. "Fuck, Steve,” Darcy said, her voice still holding a rasp, but sounding closer to normal than it did the previous night, “I'm sorry."

"I didn't meant to scare you. I shouldn't have snuck up on you. I'm sorry," Steve said, his stomach in knots, the light of the morning making the marks on Darcy seem monstrous. None of them had gotten any sleep after what had happened, and Steve could see the exhaustion in Darcy’s face. The fact that she was still getting ready to go to work seemed impossible, unimaginable

"I'm not... I'm okay," Darcy sighed, reaching out to clutch his hand, threading their fingers together. "Did you stay with him last night?"

Steve nodded, taking a step closer, using a finger to lift her chin so he could take a closer look. Seeing the marks filled Steve with white hot fear, scared to think about what would have happened if he hadn't been there to stop Bucky. He pressed his palm to her cheek, eyes heavy. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"It hurts a bit, but I'm fine." Darcy could see that her words did little to soothe the worry Steve was looking at her with, but it was the truth. Replaying the events of the previous night through her head filled her with fear, but not with blame. She knew it could have been a lot worse, and if Steve hadn't been there that things could have turned out very differently. It was scary, and Darcy didn't want to downplay the fear she'd felt, but holding onto that fear and letting it control her life was something she refused to do. She wasn't built to wallow, and she wasn't going to start now. "He'll barely look at me."

"He's not talking to me, either," Steve said with a frown, a sigh lifting and dropping his shoulders. He’d tried talking to Bucky about what had happened but the other man had stayed silent, barely acknowledging Steve’s words at all. It reminded Steve of the days before Bucky had gone into cryo in Wakanda, when he’d shoved everything down so deep, letting the darkness and fear crowd his eyes. Not fear for himself, but fear of himself.

The damage he was capable had always hung over Bucky’s head, a whisper of what his hands could do at the back of his mind, and despite Steve’s assurances that he wasn’t the only one capable of dark deeds, Bucky let that weight hold him down. It wasn’t the first time Bucky had been triggered and responded with violence, but this was the first time he’d hurt someone without the leading Russian phrases that had been built in his head. Steve wasn’t sure what to do or say to make it better.

"We can't force him," Darcy said with a shake of her head, "we have to give him time. They all say the best thing we can do is wait until he’s ready to talk."

One of Steve's eyebrows raised. "Who's 'they'?"

"The books and articles I read." When Steve continued to look at her with confusion, Darcy shifted her weight from one leg to the other, uncertainty lighting her eyes. "I might have done some research on PTSD before I agreed to come."

Part of Steve was surprised at her words, considering she'd never said anything about it before, but the other part of Steve thought doing research was the exact type of thing Darcy would do. He’d had several conversations with Sam about what he might expect from Bucky, the roadblocks and obstacles that may be in the way, and Darcy was echoing the same sentiments. If they weren’t off the grid as much as they were, Steve would have reached out to his friend, asking for some advice on how to handle the situation. As it was, Darcy’s research was all they had. "What else do they say to do?"

"Everything that we've already been doing. You keep your schedule and routine, and we wait for him to talk. We don’t downplay how scary it was, but we make it clear that we're not going anywhere, make him see that we don’t blame him."

Steve took in a deep breath then let it out slowly, thinking of the work they had ahead of them. "He's not going to believe us."

"I know," Darcy said, teeth worrying her bottom lip, "but we keep saying it until he does. The bruises are going to fade eventually, Steve, and I'm not going to let him use this as an excuse to forget all the hard work he's done since he got here."

The determination in Darcy's face was beautiful, and Steve was left marveling at how someone could experience what she had and come out the other side without permanent fears. Bucky had broken down in the woods last night, the reality of what had occurred like a dark cloud surrounding the other man, and he hoped that it was something they’d be able to handle without asking for more help. Steve wrapped Darcy in his arms, squeezing her tightly. "Then we give him space and wait," Steve breathed, pressing lips to her forehead, swinging them softly from side to side. "I'll keep an eye on him, try to keep him on our schedule but not push."

"It won't be easy."

"Things that matter rarely are."

"That was a very profound thought, Mr. Rogers."

Steve's lips lifted upward, blinking at Darcy when she pressed her chin to his chest and looked up at him. The longer he peered at her, the less heavy everything seemed. Once again, the super power she seemed to have was on display, making everything a bit brighter, making it seem like there was no mountain they couldn't scale. He lifted his hand and ran his thumb along the swell of her cheekbone, staring into her eyes. "Are you going to be okay with Tony?"

The air seemed to deflate from Darcy, the only thing she wasn't certain of turning her mind with doubt. "He's so fucking observant," she said with a sigh, certain in any other situation that it'd have been an asset. Now, though, she was left wondering how she'd explain what had happened without the tech genius freaking out. She knew Tony and Bucky had a history, and the last thing she wanted to do was have this negate what they'd been working for. "I'll handle Stark, you take care of our guy, and when I get home we'll make dinner, just like it was any other night."

The strength in Darcy's voice buoyed Steve and he pulled her to his chest again. "Easy as pie."

Darcy snorted. "Have you ever tried to make pie crust from scratch? It's anything but easy, but it's worth it in the end. So is Bucky." When she pulled back, she gave Steve a lopsided grin, "but I think you already knew that."

"I did, but it feels good to know someone else thinks so, too."

"I'm going to get dressed and head out. You okay?"

Steve sighed then nodded, casting a glance toward the back door. "We'll be fine." He could still see worry in her eyes, and he pressed his lips to hers softly before pulling back. "We'll see you when you get home."

Bucky's grip on the blade in his hand tightened, his knuckles tinted white. He took a step closer to the back door, peering through the glass, gray eyes watching as Steve brought the ax down and halved the piece of wood before him. Snow still coated the ground, the entire forest floor like a blanket of white, except for the path where he and Steve had run that morning. Bucky'd said nothing as he and Steve flew through the trees, Steve's words barely acknowledged, his mind filled with static, still running the previous night's events over and over in his head.

He was existing in a fog, thoughts slow, and every time Bucky tried to remember what happened, it was like his brain had put in a block. Frustrating didn't begin to cover it. He felt like someone had dug into his head and stolen his understanding, replacing his memory with a black box that he couldn't seem to breach. The fact that he couldn't get his mind to provide him with any explanations only made Bucky more agitated. He left his post at the back door, crossing through the living room and stepping into the bathroom. He blinked against the bright fluorescent light, its illumination garrish and casting shadows on his face. He dropped the knife on the porcelain then leaned forward, gazing at his reflection.

There were large bags under his eyes, his skin pale, and the expression on his face was almost foreign now. He looked lost, much like he'd looked during their first few months in the cabin. He'd gotten used to smiling again, his laugh easy and no longer rusty, but all of that meant nothing, not anymore. He'd been naive to think he was better, naive to believe he could be anything but what he was.

Monster. Experiment. Killer.

Grabbing the back of his tank top, he lifted it up and over his head, turning so he could see the barely-there bruises from where his back had hit the wall. When Bucky looked down at his hands, capable of such horror, he felt his stomach flip with revulsion and self-hatred. He barely had enough time to drop to his knees before he started gagging, only bile coming up as he heaved, the reality of what he'd done filling him with disgust. He was like a disease, infecting and killing anyone he came in contact with, and it was only a matter of time before Steve and Darcy realized how dangerous it was to stay with him. He was too tainted by the darkness. It was all too late for him. Too late.

He spit into the bowl before climbing to his feet, flushing away what little he'd had in his stomach. Bucky lifted his hand and brushed at the hair in his eyes, body freezing in the middle of the motion when his storm-gray eyes landed on the black blade resting on the sink. Grabbing it, he glanced up at his reflection, the lack of emotion making it look like a mask. Like a puppet, strung up and exactly as he'd been created to be. He'd been built by Hydra, brought back from the brink of death only to deal it to others. Looking at himself, he could only see The Soldier, the darkness in his eyes and the brown hair hanging around his shoulders, the boogeyman he'd been for seventy years.

Bucky ran his thumb over the blade, barely feeling the cut, one perfect blush of blood on his skin. Eyes flicking back to the mirror, Bucky clutched the knife and lifted his arms. The cuts were ragged, edges uneven, but as clumps of his hair began to fall into the sink, Bucky felt nothing but the desire to erase the man he'd become for them. As more and more dark locks were cut away, his expression turned stony, his jaw ticking as his teeth ground together.

When he was done, Bucky was left looking in the mirror at someone he didn't recognize. He looked nothing like before he'd shipped out, no charismatic smile or hair slicked back with pomade, no crooked smirk. He didn't look like The Soldier anymore either, despite the dark expression in his eyes. He was what was left of his life.

Pain and anguish and agony. A delayed explosion. A risk. A hand grenade with no pin, a threat to everyone if his grip slacked.

Stowing the knife in his thigh holster, Bucky ran a hand over his head, shaking any loose hairs free, then cleaned up what he could. When he pulled open the bathroom door, he froze. Steve was standing there, the blue eyes Bucky'd grown up with filled with uncertainty, flicking up to his hair then back down, his mouth falling open. Bucky watched the struggle behind his best friend's expression, following Steve's thoughts as they flit over his face. Finally, after several quiet seconds, Steve seemed to accept what was standing in front of him and turned so Bucky could move past him.

Bucky was careful not to touch Steve as he moved past the other man and into the quiet of their bedroom, shutting the door, needing to be alone. He sat on the bed then went silent. He could tell Steve was still there, on the other side of the door, and it took several long moments before he moved away, giving Bucky the space he needed. Bucky let out a shaky breath when he was alone, blinking up at the ceiling when he laid back, letting the white noise take over, happy to stop the dark thoughts that had returned.

Chapter Text

"I'll get it figured out and bring it back on Monday."

Darcy saw Tony nod in her peripheral vision as she began stuffing her laptop into the locked cabinet it lived in, the sound of Tony's fingers drumming against his table in New York filling the room. She reached up to scratch at a stray lock of hair that had fallen from her bun, tucking it behind her ear before turning back to Tony. She froze when she found him standing next to the table, the blue-tinted frames he wore hanging limply from his fingers as he peered at her. "What?"

"What is that?"

She raised an eyebrow. "What is what?"

"Don't bullshit me, Lewis. What's on your neck?"

Darcy took in a deep breath before collapsing into a chair, unsurprised that she'd been unable to keep something from the over-attentive billionaire. She and Steve had been careful with Bucky over the previous week, but it hadn’t been without struggle. She’d rushed home that next day, worried about Bucky, even though she knew Steve was there. The lack of contact between town and cabin had been devastating, and she barely remembered anything Tony and her had spoken about that day. When she’d arrived home, the reality of everything had sunk in.

Darcy took a step backward when the front door was pulled open before she’d had a chance to wrap her fingers around the knob. Her eyes widened in surprise when Steve took a step onto the porch then pulled the door shut behind him. She could see it in his expression, that something had happened, and her pulse immediately began to race. "What is it?" Darcy asked, attempting to glance over his shoulder and through the window on the door.

"Bucky did something and I wanted to warn you," Steve said, his voice soft, deliberately trying to keep Bucky from hearing them from the other side of the door.

Worry pooled in Darcy's gut at Steve’s expression, not feeling the cold even as the wind whipped against her cheeks. "What? Is he alright? Are you alright?"

"We're both fine," Steve assured her, reaching out to press a palm to her cheek before letting his arms drop to his sides, uncertainty burning hot in his chest.

"Then what -"

"He cut his hair."

Darcy blinked at Steve, mouth opening to ask a question, but it died on her lips when she watched Bucky through the window, moving from the kitchen and toward the hallway. She couldn't explain the flood of sorrow in her chest; it didn't matter to Darcy that Bucky'd cut his hair, but as she looked at the uneven and jagged hair on top of his head, she felt it like punch to her sternum. "Steve. Steve."

"I know." Steve reached out to grip her gloved hand, seeing her react to the suddenness just as he had.

"Do we, I mean, I don't know, why would..." Darcy reached up to wipe a hand across her cheeks, flicking the tears away, tightening her jaw. "Is he okay?"

Steve squeezed her hand again. "He didn't say anything, I just came inside and he'd cut it."

Darcy tried to wrap her head around the news when a horrible thought occurred to her, eyes widening as they filled with fear and horror. "Do we hide the knives? Oh god, Steve, what if he'd used the knife to -"

"He didn't."

"But if he -"

"He's okay." When her eyes swung toward him, Steve took a step backward and pulled Darcy with him, taking them out of sight of the windows. He gathered her in his arms, squeezing her tightly. He knew her well enough that he'd expected the tears, and her fear that Bucky might have done more with that knife then just giving himself a haircut was familiar, as the same worry had bottomed his stomach out, too. "He'll be okay."

Darcy buried her face against Steve's neck, hands shaking as they fisted in his sweater. A million horrible thoughts flashed through her mind, each worse than the last. It hadn't even occurred to her that Bucky might hurt himself, and now faced with the reality of it being a possibility, shame blossomed in her chest that she hadn't considered making sure he didn't self-harm. Stupid, she screamed at herself in her head, you should have realized it was a possibility. She pulled back, eyes drowning as she looked up at Steve. "We can't leave him alone."

"I know," Steve agreed, thumb brushing away the tears on her cheeks, "I've kept my eyes on him. I told him I wanted to make sure he was okay, that I was going to stay by his side. He didn't say anything, but he nodded. I think he knows."

Darcy nodded several times, attempting to get her heartbeat under control. "They talked about it in the books I read, but I never thought, I mean, not him. He's been through so much, I didn't -"

"He's okay, Darcy. Between the two of us, we've got him covered." Steve watched Darcy nod, teeth chewing on her bottom lip as she swiped at her cheeks. "I just didn't want you to walk in and be surprised."

"Yeah," Darcy said. She filled her lungs then let it out slowly, her breath fogging in the waning sunlight, "it would have been bad to walk into that unprepared." When she felt like the majority of her tears had stopped, Darcy took a step back from Steve, though she reached out to squeeze his fingers. "We're going to get through this," she said with feeling, giving Steve a firm nod, "we're going to get him through this."

"I know. I know we are. Now let's see if we can get him to eat."

Darcy ran a tired hand over her face, a dull ache at the base of her skull, knowing this wasn’t going to be an easy conversation. "Stark -"

"What the fuck happened?"

There was a look in Tony’s eyes that forced a shiver up her spine. She’d been working closely with the man for almost a year, and in that time they’d come to know each other pretty well. Somewhere along the line, Darcy’d come to actually care about Tony Stark, and in his own way, she could tell he’d come to care for her, too. They barbed at each other, because they were who they were, but regardless of the slashes their words cut, she knew it was flavored with an undercurrent of respect, and even now, She could tell there was worry below the hardness of his gaze. "We had an incident a few nights ago," she said, frowning when Tony took a step closer, the concern in his whiskey-brown eyes thick.

"Nope," Tony said with a sharp shake of his head as he knelt at the waist, attempting to scrutinize the marks on her neck before his gaze flicked up to hers, "try again."

Darcy was glad that he was an ocean away and that his hand couldn't really pull down her turtleneck to get a better look. "Bucky had a nightmare, or a flashback, but we're all alive and dealing."

Tony flinched then straightened, a dark look in his widened eyes. Darcy watched his jaw tick as his teeth ground, a tsunami of memories and thoughts crashing in his mind. He seemed to shake his shoulders, a thought spurring him into motion. "I'm on my way."

Steve had told her some of what had happened between him, Tony, and Bucky, so the tech magnate’s reaction wasn’t exactly surprising. Darcy couldn’t imagine what was going through his mind, but having him ride in looking for vengeance would help no one. "Hey! Wait!" Darcy jumped to her feet, chasing after him.

"I put you in that place," Tony said with a shake of his head, his expression cold when he turned to face her, "this is on me. I should've known better. I'll get you out."

"Stark, don't you dare!" Darcy stepped through the hologram and turned, stopping him in his tracks. "I am taking care of this. This is my problem."

Tony's face did not soften. "You think I'm going to leave you there so he can hurt you again? This is what he does! He’s a killer! You’re not safe there anymore."

"This wasn't him." When Tony made a sound of disgust and turned, Darcy chased after him, darting in front of him again. "This was Hydra, and the war, and any other dark thing that has tortured that man for the past seventy years. I came into this knowing there were possible risks."

"'Possible risk' is a lot different than 'choked to death,' Lewis."

"Was it scary? Fuck yes, yes, obviously I was scared,” Darcy said, giving voice to the fear that hummed through her brain when she remembered the vacant look in Bucky’s eyes as his hands had tightened around her neck, “but I don't blame him anymore than I'd blame any soldier who saw horrible shit and came back changed. I told you I knew what I was getting myself into when I agreed to do this, and I meant it."

"He could have killed you," Tony said, his jaw ticking as his teeth clenched and he shook his head at her.

"He wouldn't have."

"You don't know that."

"No more than you know he would," she argued, holding up a hand when his mouth opened. "This is my problem, Tony. You hear me? This is mine to work out." Darcy watched a flurry of emotions cross over the man's face, his eyes darting down toward her neck several times before he took a step backward, sitting heavily in a chair. "I know it looks bad,” she continued, “but it already doesn't hurt as much as it did. This could have happened to anyone. It's not his fault."

"You know, I keep hearing those words over and over about him," Tony said with a clipped tone, "as if everyone is supposed to just ignore all the pain and death that he's caused."

Darcy sat across from him with a frown, leaning forward so Tony could see her eyes. "I know the two of you have history that I'll never understand, but I can promise that you can't hate him any more than he already hates himself for what happened. You brought me in because I told you I could handle it, so let me handle it."

Tony stared at her, foot tapping softly on the floor as he considered her words. Darcy could tell he wanted to fight her on it, that he was still seconds away from flying his ass to France, but as he blinked at her, she could tell he was weighing his options. Steve warned her that the way Bucky had hurt her would trigger Tony in a big way, and looking into the engineer’s dark-brown eyes, Darcy could confirm Steve’s caution was warranted.

Finally, after several tense seconds, Tony heaved a large sigh and sat back in his seat, pinning her with a pointed look. "You promise me you're okay?"

One corner of Darcy's mouth lifted up, relief filling her chest when it appeared he’d decided not to push the issue any further. She was an adult, after all, and she didn’t need Tony to be her shiny white knight, though her heart warmed at his worry. Wondering if maybe her relationship with the genius had moved past ‘work colleagues’ and had become ‘reluctant but strong friendship’, Darcy raised an eyebrow in his direction. "Why, you suddenly having feelings for me?"

The normally sarcastic tint to his eyes had been erased, but as Tony looked at her, she could see a flash of recognition. It was followed by an eyeroll as he climbed to his feet. "I guess I'm having what you'd call low-key affection for you and your wellbeing."

It was as close to a declaration of friendship as she would probably get out of the man, and Darcy gave him a bright smile. "Well, stop the presses, Tony Stark has a heart."

"Go ahead and pump the breaks, kid, I've had several by now," he said, hanging his glasses from his t-shirt as he gave her a long look. "When Thor talked all that game about you, I gotta admit I didn't totally buy it."

"Tony Stark? Admitting he was wrong on the same day he acknowledges friend-like-feelings for someone? Now I've heard it all." Tony's lips trembled slightly, and Darcy was ninety-percent sure he'd almost smiled. As he leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, Darcy set about gathering the rest of her things. When everything was packed up, she hitched her bag higher on her shoulder before turning to him with a considering look. "Did you, I mean, after everything that happened in Afghanistan, and then New York... did you ever, like, talk to someone about it?"

"Are you very carefully asking if I saw a shrink after almost dying several times? Perhaps someone that specializes in post traumatic stress?"

"... yes."

Tony nodded, rocking back on his heels, rolling his eyes softly. "I can get you some names."

"Tony," she started, going quiet when his gaze found hers. They shared a look, something silent but meaningful, before she nodded at him. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet," he said with a shake of his head, "first whiff I get of you being in danger again and I'll be knocking on that cabin door myself."

The knife in Steve's hand moved with precision, slicing the carrots and celery thinly before scraping them into the pot on the stove. It had stopped snowing hours ago, allowing warm sunlight to filter through the windows, and it was quiet enough that Steve could almost forget the darkness of what had happened the previous week. He glanced to his left, eyes pouring over the man who was sitting in the window seat, arms wrapped around his knees as he peered out the glass and into the trees beyond. Bucky had barely spoken in days, only nodding his answers as Steve led them through their regular routine.

Bucky's body tensed, his gray eyes rolling toward the front door when footsteps climbed the porch. Darcy's dark hair was visible through the glass as she stomped the snow from her boots, and he felt his stomach bottom out as she pushed her way into the cabin, eyes flicking first to Steve before they landed on him. He looked for another moment before turning back to the window, the shame and self-hatred he’d felt for days burning through his body as he tried to block out Steve and Darcy's whispered conversation.

"Hey," Darcy said, dropping her bag by the front door before toeing out of her boots. She crossed the space to Steve, putting a hand on his shoulder before rising to her toes and pressing her lips to his cheek. "That smells good."

"Ma's stew," Steve said with a nod toward the bubbling pot. "I figured it'd be nice to have something familiar."

"That's a good idea," Darcy said with a smile, the expression faltering slightly when she glanced in Bucky's direction. She wasn’t naive enough to think her lowered voice wouldn’t reach Bucky’s ears, but she leaned into Steve all the same. "How is he?"

"We kept to our schedule. He didn't really talk, but he hasn't tried to run again, either."

Darcy nodded, "I suppose that's a good thing."

"How was work?" When Darcy's gaze flicked up toward him, Steve could tell something had happened. The knife in his hand stilled, blond eyebrows lifting as he peered at her questioningly.

"Tony knows," Darcy answered, seeing the expectation in his expression change to one of worry. "Hey," she said, placing a hand on Steve's arm, "I told him I'm handling it."

"I'm surprised he's not on his way here right now," Steve said as his eyes swung toward Bucky again.

"Oh, trust me, he would have liked nothing more. I think he might actually like me, which I’m sure helped when I told him that I could handle it. I made it clear that unless I specifically asked for his help that everything was under control."

Steve took in a deep breath then let it out, blue eyes blinking back at Darcy. "Is it?"

"Not sure if you knew it, but I've got what they call a 'dogged sense of determination,'" Darcy said with a small smile, watching Steve's lips twitch at her words, "so for the moment he's going to back off and let us take care of things."

The look of determination in her eyes warmed Steve's heart and he dropped the knife to the cutting board. He considered pulling her into his arms but thought better of it, reaching out to squeeze her hand instead, holding her gaze and filling his with gratitude.

Darcy blinked up at Steve, memorizing the look on his face, wishing she could help erase the worry and concern from the blue of his eyes. She squeezed his hand once before moving away from the island and further into the living room. Hesitating at the open mouth of the hallway, Darcy look at the statue that Bucky had become, the lack of emotion on his face reminding her so much of the first few days they'd lived together, when he wasn't sure of himself. Or her. It hurt, seeing all their hard work evaporate, but Darcy refused to believe it was gone for good. She cleared her throat, watching Bucky's eyes swing toward her. "I'm going to take a quick shower," she said with a smile, "would you set the table, Buck?"

Bucky watched Darcy look at him, the light in her eyes dimming the longer he stayed quiet. He couldn't stand being yet another reason why pain tinted her hazel, so gave her a curt nod of his head. The grin that beamed from Darcy was blinding, and Bucky felt it like a kick to his gut, feeling like he'd cheated her somehow. How could she look at him with anything but fear and disgust, after what his hands had done to her? The turtleneck she wore was high enough that if someone hadn't been paying close enough attention they'd see nothing out of place. He knew, though, and the weight of that knowledge was heavy on his shoulders.

Steve nodded when Darcy looked in his direction, giving her an encouraging smile before she disappeared down the hallway. When the water of the shower flipped on, he saw movement from the window seat as Bucky climbed to his feet, his face turned down in serious lines. As Bucky avoided his gaze, crossing to the cabinets to gather plates and cutlery, Steve's eyes followed Bucky, the other man’s shoulders hunched as he set three places at the table. His best friend took a seat, hands resting on his knees, and Steve's chest constricted at the lost look in Bucky's eyes.

"Hey, you remember the first time your Pop suggested Ma add peppers to her stew?" Bucky's eyes flicked up to Steve and, though he hadn't answered, Steve continued on as if he had. "You'd have thought the entire block could hear her rip him apart for such a silly suggestion. 'You think you can improve upon perfection?'," Steve mimed in a good imitation of Winifred Barnes, "'My stew is perfect the way it is, just like your wife, and if you need me to remind you of that fact, I will happily do so for the rest of your days.' No one could convince Winnie otherwise when she'd made up her mind about something, though my Ma tried as often as she could." When Bucky simply looked down at the table top, the smile on Steve's lips slipped. He knew Darcy had researched how to handle the situation, but navigating it all seemed too large, too fraught.

The kitchen was quiet when Darcy reappeared twenty minutes later, her eyes flicking from Steve, to Bucky, then back to Steve. The silence wasn't particularly uncomfortable, but it was thick enough that she wondered if she could borrow the knife that Steve'd used, carving at the awkwardness and slicing it to shreds. "It smells really good," she said, both men's gazes swinging toward her, careful to keep a smile on her face.

"It's nearly done," Steve said from his post at the stove.

"I'll get drinks. You good with lemonade, Bucky?" The small nod Bucky made in her direction felt like progress, and Darcy crossed to the fridge, feeling infinitesimally better.

Bucky didn't move when she neared, having gone to the quiet place inside when his head became too loud. His eyes followed Darcy as she came closer, intent on her hands as she poured his drink, waiting for the tremble of fear to shake them. Her hands were steady, though, and Darcy made no outward sign that she was terrified to be so close to him. Her lack of fear made no sense, and Bucky felt the first thread of useless anger kindle in his chest. She should be scared of him. She should be absolutely terrified after what he'd done to her. Why wasn't she scared? How could she pretend everything was fine?

The conversation over dinner was lopsided, Steve and Darcy doing their best to keep things light. She regaled them with stories of what it was like living with Jane and Erik, including why doing your own laundry had become one of her steadfast rules when living with someone. She'd tried including Bucky, but when it was clear he didn't want to contribute, she let it drop, not wanting to push him before he was ready. It was entirely counter-intuitive and Darcy reasoned that that was the hardest part for her to swallow; she'd grown up running headfirst with her emotions, being loud and brash and unafraid. Practicing constraint had never been her strong suit, but if it meant the difference between helping Bucky or hurting him, Darcy knew what she needed to do, and she'd be damned if she ruined it with her own insecurities.

"You know what would take this stew to the next level? A layer of mashed potatoes on top."

Steve grinned at Darcy, shaking his head softly. "What is it with you and potatoes?"

"Uh, they're the most perfect food," she said with an incredulous expression turning her lips. "When we get home, I've got to take you to Moriarty's. They have the best shepherd's pie in all of New York."

"That sounds great. We've always liked shepherd's pie, right Buck?" Steve looked over at Bucky, watching the other man give a small nod of his head but nothing more. There was a look on Bucky's face, his eyes jumping from side to side, and Steve recognized it instantly. He'd spent so many nights in Europe watching Bucky make that same expression, the one that meant he was analyzing everything before he came up with the best strategy. Though he was silent on the outside, it was clear there was an inner war raging in his best friend's head. Steve's blue gaze slid toward Darcy, the pair of them sharing a significant look before Darcy retook control of the conversation.

She could see Steve's unease, his worry for Bucky thick enough to taste, but Darcy held firm to the suggestion of experts, knowing Bucky would speak when he was ready. "Moriarty's is to die for. Oh! And there's this little bakery -"

"What are you talking about?” It was clear Bucky’s outburst had surprised both of them and he watched Steve and Darcy’s heads snap in his direction “Dinner and shepherd’s pie and a bakery? None of that is going to happen because the second I step foot on American soil they’re going to lock me up and throw away the key. I’m too dangerous.”

Some part of Darcy was unendingly grateful that their wait hadn’t taken long, hoping his ability to confront what had happened so soon spoke to all the hard work and healing Bucky’d done over the past year, happy that it hadn’t been erased entirely. However, the darkness of his words held her heart in an iron grip. He’d bookended what had happened that night with everything else he’d done as The Soldier and amalgamated it into one overarching truth: He didn’t deserve a home outside of a cage. “That’s not going to happen, Bucky. I won’t let it.”

“It’s not safe for you here!” Bucky shouted, throwing his napkin at his uneaten bowl and scrambling to his feet, the sound of his chair scraping back on the hardwood loud. “I’m not safe!”

Steve had seen Darcy flinch as Bucky’s voice rose in volume, her hazel eyes closing. When they snapped open again, there was something in them, something calm, and certain, and like she’d seen this coming.

“I’m not afraid of you, Bucky,” Darcy said, placing both her palms on the table, blinking slowly at him, refusing to rise to his bait. Some kind of serene peace had sparked soft but grown in her chest. It was almost as if she knew the exact words to say, like they were plucked easily, a feeling of expectation stilling the air around them.

“You should be,” Bucky spat, shaking his head, his voice thick with disbelief, “you should be terrified of me.”

“I’m not.”

“I could have killed you so easily. Just one turn of my wrist and it’d have been all over.” Bucky’s chest heaved, his pulse racing, the bitter taste of self-hatred on his tongue. The amount of horrible tableaus his mind could provide turned his stomach, so many ghastly memories he could draw from. He waited for Darcy to react, to recoil in fear, and when she didn’t, his face curled into a sneer. “Oh, maybe that’s what you wanted. Maybe you like the danger. Maybe you agreed to come along and play house with an assassin because you have a death wish.”

Steve’s voice was sharp and immediate. “Bucky!”

Darcy watched Bucky turn to Steve at his shout, gray eyes wide, obviously looking for a fight. She wasn’t going to give him one, no matter what he said to her. “That’s not why I came here. You know why I came.”

“I could have killed you,” Bucky growled, taking a step toward her, Darcy’s quiet and stillness only feeding his rage. He wanted to see the fear cloud her eyes, wanted to be vindicated by his own darkness. The black stained his skin, and now it stained hers too, with bruises in the shape of his fingers. “If Steve wasn’t…” his thoughts tumbled, flashing from one brutal memory to the next. “...if he hadn’t... I can’t...”

Bucky threw his hands in the air, turning his back to them, feeling lost and adrift on a sea of self-doubt. It didn’t make sense, her lack of horror feeling like a slap in the face, replacing his anger with mistrust. How? How was she able to look at him without choking back a scream? “I can’t even remember what I did!” he railed, spinning back toward them, his cheeks pink and flushed. “I would never hurt you.”

“I know that,” Darcy said, looking into his eyes, feeling her heart break as she watched him struggle with himself. She could almost track the emotions as they rose and fell in him. Rage. Regret. Fear. Contrition. Disbelief. Self-loathing. They traveled so quickly, from one to the next, and Darcy couldn’t imagine what it felt like to hold all that inside.

“But I did! I did hurt you! These -” Bucky lifted his hands, glaring at them, his fingers balling into a fists. “They’re not even... how could they be capable of…”

“I don’t blame you, Bucky.”

“Stop saying my name like that!”

Darcy took in a steadying breath. “Like what?”

“Like I didn’t almost kill you that night!” Bucky looked to Steve, expecting to find anger in his best friend’s gaze, but seeing nothing in those blue eyes except worry and concern. Somehow that was worse. “If I’d killed you -”

“You didn’t,” Darcy said with a shake of her head. “Was it scary? Of course, but I don’t blame you.”

Bucky shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest, fingernails biting into his palms, needing some kind of pain to edge away the hysteria he could feel on the edges of his thoughts. “You should.”

Darcy could feel Steve to her left, quiet but focused, and she drew strength from him, knowing if she needed help, he’d be right there. “You wouldn’t hurt me,” Darcy repeated, eyes following Bucky as he paced from one end of the dining room table to the other.

“But I did! I did hurt you!”

“It was a nightmare, or a memory. A flashback. Something triggered you, Buck, because I know you’d never hurt me like that. You say I should fear you, but I don’t. I know what I can and can’t handle. I knew the risks when I agreed to help you.”

Her words filtered to Bucky’s brain but it was like he couldn’t believe it, like Darcy was lying just to make him feel better. He shook his head sharply from side to side as he paced, feeling like he was going crazy. “She didn’t do it. Shuri did something wrong. Hydra’s still in there. She missed something.”

“She didn’t miss anything,” Steve said, watching Bucky’s gaze flick up toward him. “She took out what Hydra built.”

“Then how -”

“Hydra might not have control of you anymore, but you were still at war, Bucky. You saw things in those trenches that you can’t unsee. You did things that you’re going to be living with for the rest of your life. Any soldier could have done the same exact thing, and they have. You are not the first person to experience this and you won’t be the last. This isn’t something that can just be erased,” Darcy argued.

A bark of disbelief sounded from Bucky’s throat. “How do you know? How do you know anything? You’re not a soldier, not a shrink, not a doctor. You have no idea what it’s like.”

Darcy knew he was absolutely right. “I know.”

“So I’m just supposed to live with the fact that I could turn and kill you at any moment? No. No! You should get as far away from me as you can.”

Darcy shook her head. “I’m not going to do that. I care about you too much to do that.”

Bucky wanted to rage at her, to throw things, to scare her enough that she’d run and never look back. He was dangerous, lethal, and the thought of hurting Darcy again filled him with a terror so complete that it threatened to take his knees. He was inches away from falling apart, and as long as Darcy stayed, she was in danger. Bucky’s arms fell to his sides, his shoulders sagging, the weight of everything as heavy as a boulder sitting on his chest, so large that he could barely breathe past it.

“... I don’t want to hurt you again,” Bucky whispered, hating how weak he sounded.

Darcy climbed to her feet slowly, hand trailing over the table as she took a small step toward him, her voice soft. “I know you don’t. We’ll find things we can do to help, find people you can talk to. We’ll get through this together.”

When Bucky’s eyes flicked up to look at her, they were already drowning. She reached out for his arm but he took a stumbling step backward, out of her reach, the movement loosing the tears down his cheeks. Yet again, he saw something in her gaze that seemed worse than fear or anger, his body fighting against the compassion she was showing him. “How can you look at me with anything but hate?”

“How can you look at me and not see how much I love you?”

Some basic part of Darcy’s brain wanted to take the words back the second they fell from her lips, as if those three words alone were a bell that couldn’t be unrung. As she watched the recognition spark into Bucky’s eyes, disbelief and doubt on its heels, Darcy knew it was the truth. She hadn’t planned on using those words, but it was true. She loved him. She was completely and utterly in love with him.

The concept of romantic love had always been mystifying to Darcy. She hated what was shown in movies, books, and tv shows. Some cookie cutter ‘if you love someone, everything will work itself out’ bullshit that was impossible to believe. Love wasn’t always like a rose, it didn’t always smell sweet, and it couldn’t fix all of life’s problems. It was hard, and a struggle, and even with all the love in the world, things could fall apart. It took work, and effort, and sometimes love meant being stubborn.

Luckily ‘stubborn’ was one of Darcy’s biggest character flaws.

“There is not a single part of me that hates you, Bucky, so you can rage, and scream, and tell me a hundred different ways how being with you is going to hurt me,” Darcy said as she came to stand in front of him, the wideness of his eyes filled with disbelief and bewilderment, almost like she was speaking a completely different language, “but it’s not going to change how I feel. I’m. Not. Going. Anywhere.”

The silence that fell in the cabin was only broken by the sound of their breathing. Bucky blinked at Darcy, his lips parted in shock, heart in a vice. He’d heard her words, could see the truth of them in her eyes, but part of him wanted to deny them. Admitting what had grown between the three of them was love meant the risk of failure was too dangerous; when you loved someone, they could be used against you, like a weapon. Like the sharp edge of a knife, love could cut you so deeply that you didn’t feel the wound even as you started to hemorrhage.

The only person Bucky had ever loved was sitting at the table, as still as a statue, Steve’s breath held in his chest as he stared at them, his eyes so full it was painful. Bucky loved Steve, and that love had brought them pain, and suffering, and even now, hiding out in the forest of rural France, they were dealing with the consequences of their love. He didn’t want Darcy to be just another footnote in the tragedy of their lives.

Bucky wanted to tell her that it wasn’t true, that what she thought was love was just infatuation, simply a result of their close quarters and the amount of time they spent together. Bucky cared for Darcy deeply, but fear turned the word to dust on his tongue. Love. Not him. Not now. Love wasn’t meant for monsters like him, whose hands knew nothing but blood, whose tongue knew nothing but the sharp copper taste of pain, and as Darcy stared at him, resolved and stunning, Bucky felt the icy fist of fear close around his heart.

“No,” Bucky said, taking a step backward, “I don’t want to hurt you again.” When she advanced, only making up the ground he’d made them lose, he backed up again. “Stop.”

Darcy stayed firm, closing the distance between them once more. As he shook his head, attempting to distance himself, she refused, another step carrying her forward. “I love you, James Barnes, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Bucky’s eyes widened, and when the back of his knees hit a chair, he sat back on it heavily, head tipping back so he could see Darcy’s face. The empathy in her gaze was concentrated and he could almost feel the warmth of it on his skin, the ice he’d buried himself in melting away, useless against the heat of her love. Her hand lifted and Bucky’s eyes fell closed, another set of tears sliding down his cheeks. Her palm was soft, and comforting, and there was little else he could do but lean closer and accept what she offered.

Darcy sucked in a breath when Bucky threw both of his arms around her waist, burying his face against her stomach as sobs began to shake his shoulders, tremors that seemed to quake to him to the core. Chin quivering, her own eyes filling with tears as she listened to Bucky break, Darcy smoothed her hand over the ragged hair on the top of his head. “I’ve got you,” she whispered, “it’s okay.”

There was a heft to the air, an importance that Steve could feel biting up and down his arms, his chest seizing as he watched Darcy comfort Bucky. There'd been a monumental shift in the cabin, words whispered to the universe that seemed to reverberate in waves, and Steve was moved to his feet, needing to be closer. He circled the table, eyes locking with Darcy’s when her hazel swung in his direction. His hand came to rest on Bucky’s shoulder, fingers squeezing, giving his best friend all the support he could.

It took hours for some of the shadows to be chased from Bucky's eyes. Steve and Darcy had spoken of plans, both immediate and long-term, and done their best to convince Bucky that what had happened was scary, but it wasn't unconquerable, as long as communication stayed open between them. If he felt down, if things were becoming too much and Bucky felt himself slipping, all he had to do was ask for their help. Darcy and Steve assured him that it took more strength to admit you were drowning than it did to tread water alone. There was no magic wand to fix everything instantaneously, and the type of healing Bucky had to do was going to take time and leave scars, but it was possible, and that's what he had to remember.

You might fall a few times, maybe even a lot, but we'll be there to help you, Darcy'd said.

You bailed me out of so many fights, Buck, Steve'd insisted, watching the memories rise and fall in his best friend's eyes, just think of this as a fight you have backup for.

After more tears, and apologies, and acceptance, Bucky had finally fallen into an emotionally exhausted sleep. The fact that Darcy’d seen a ghost of a smile on Bucky’s lips meant everything, and while she knew better than to assume everything was good, they’d made enough progress that she felt content.

...well, almost content.

Steve’s eyes widened when he opened the bathroom door to find Darcy right there, waiting for him. He glanced over her shoulder at their closed bedroom door, concern flashing through him. “Is he -”

"It's not just him," Darcy said, watching confusion chase into Steve's eyes. "I know none of us planned this, and I know there's so many things that could go wrong, and I never meant for it to come out like it did, but it's true, and I'm not going to go back on it now."

Eyebrows lifting toward his hairline, Steve wrapped his fingers around Darcy's wrist and tugged her into the bathroom, not wanting to wake Bucky. He shut the door and turned to face her. "What?"

"I love Bucky."

"I know," Steve said, more confusion coloring his expression, "I heard you, but what -"

"I love you, too." Darcy said, her stomach flipping as the words left her mouth for a second time that night. "I just didn't want you to think it's anything but what it is. And it's not because you're, like, a package deal or anything, but for a million other reasons why."

Steve cleared his throat softly and crossed his arms over his chest. "What reasons?"

Surprise rocked through Darcy and her eyes widened, not expecting he'd actually ask for examples. "Oh," she said, shifting her weight from one leg to the other, "I mean, you're incredibly sweet, and kind, and you go out of your way to help me do things even though I've specifically told you I'd handle it, and the way you look at Bucky, not to mention... how much of an asshole you are," Darcy growled, watching a smirk curl Steve’s lips upward, realizing she'd been played.

"I'm sorry," Steve said, ignoring the half-hearted slap she directed his way, gathering her in his arms, chuckling softly. They’d had so much heaviness in the last week that when a moment of levity appeared, he’d taken the chance. Darcy’d always been so good at making things lighter, even when it seemed impossible, and he’d tried her tactic, glad when it’d had the desired effect. "I know what you meant," he whispered, dipping his chin so he could press his lips to her hair.

Darcy was only mildly mollified by his words, but the way he held her was enough to smooth the rest of her annoyance. She pulled back so she could see his face, his eyes bright and darkened to something more like cobalt, feeling her heart constrict at the look of affection in his gaze. "I just wanted you to know that it's not just him. It's both of you."

Steve smiled, leaning so he could capture her mouth, feeling her sigh as she relaxed in his arms. He couldn't adequately express what her words meant, the blood in his veins pumping quicker at just the thought, and the way she'd known exactly what to say to make Bucky feel better was like a superpower all on its own. He knew their future was in the air, and that there were so many things stacked against them, but knowing he had Bucky and Darcy at his side made things seem less uncertain. He was only sure about one thing, and that was what he felt for the two of them. "I love you, too," Steve whispered, tracing the warmth and happy surprise in her eyes he'd found himself lost in time and time again, "for a million different reasons."

"Ugh, how embarrassing for you to say something like that out loud," Darcy joked, grinning when Steve laughed and wrapped his arms around her shoulders again, pulling her close. They stood there in the tiny bathroom, breathing together and feeling their declarations of love reverberate in the air. There was no way to know what was on the horizon, fights and battles that were yet to come, but in that moment, it felt like nothing was insurmountable.

Chapter Text

The first warm day in the spring melted the snow that still stubbornly stuck to the ground, turning everything to mud and mush. This was the reason Darcy drove herself to the cafe instead of riding her bike. This was a lie, however, as the real reason she'd chosen the Rusty But Trusty auto that day was because getting out of bed had been particularly hard that morning. It wasn't just because it was warm under the covers, but because the two men who shared her bed had been frumpled and gorgeous and she'd gotten distracted and lost track of time.

"Comment ça va, Sabine?" Darcy asked as she pushed her way into the small cafe that had become her office for the past year. (How's things, Sabine?)

"Je ne peux pas me plaindre," came Sabine's bright response, grinning when the mug of coffee she'd held was taken from her with a happy growl of gratitude. (I can't complain.)

"Vous êtes comme une sorte d'ange. Vraiment. Un beau bébé ange," Darcy cooed, taking that first sip with an inappropriate amount of enthusiasm. It was perfect, just like always, and Darcy's shoulders lifted and fell with a happy sigh. (You're like an angel. Truly. A beautiful baby angel.)

Sabine leaned back against the counter, arms crossing over her chest as she grinned at Darcy. "Tu étais en retard et j'ai commencé à m'inquiéter." (You were late and I started to worry.)

"Pfffft," Darcy said with a gesture of her hand, "comme si quelque chose d'excitant se passait dans cette ville." (As if anything exciting happens in this town.)

"Touchons du bois," Sabine said, rapping her knuckles on the countertop. "Faites-moi savoir si il fait trop froid là-bas, je vais ajuster la chaleur." (Knock on wood. Just let me know if it's too cold back there, I'll adjust the heat.)

"Tu plaisantes? C'est magnifique à l'extérieur. Je pourrais même ouvrir la fenêtre." Darcy tipped her drink in Sabine's direction before she made her way past the counter and through the hallway that led to the conference room. She took another large sip of coffee before she began pulling things from her bag, waving a hand over the black box, hearing it wake up. When the image of Tony appeared, she caught the look of annoyance on his face. "What's up?" (You kidding? It's gorgeous outside. I might even open the window.)

"You're late," Tony hummed, arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the table on his side of the world, "and what did we say about being late?"

"I believe I said that you could bite me," Darcy answered, grinning when he rolled his eyes and pushed away from the table. "What's got your metal knickers in a twist? We're in the middle of -"

"I've got a senator on the committee who's willing to go to bat for us."

Darcy's eyes widened, pausing in the midst of her unpacking. "Really? How did you manage that?"

"Believe it or not, I can be very compelling when I want to be." When Tony’s answer appeared less than satisfactory, judging by the look Darcy leveled in his direction, he shrugged his shoulders. "It's James Rhodes, newly minted New York Senator. He's on the committee."

Cocking her head to the side, Darcy considered the information. "Won't that be a conflict of interest?"

"His name is inked on the Accords. In fact, he was one of the first people to sign them. I'd like to see someone question Rhodey’s stance on them."

Darcy frowned. "You mean someone like Ross, the worst fucking thorn in our sides?"

"Yeah, exactly, but by some fortuitous bit of luck, information proving Ross circumvented laws in order to further his own agenda was discovered and sent to the White House three days ago. He's been suspended pending a full investigation. He'll be lucky to get a job at a military surplus store when it's all over."

Darcy felt a flash of satisfaction at Ross' downfall. He'd been the main architect behind the Accords, and she and Tony had been working hard for the better part of a year to unfuck all the things he’d fucked up. Knowing he wasn't going to be there throwing darts at them was good, but they still had hurdles they needed to jump. "So… what are you saying?"

"I'll be taking the revisions to the world council to review and vote on. Once they pass the amendments, and they will, Rhodey'll move to immediately dismiss the charges of sedition against Rogers and Barnes, meaning they can come home." When a look of joy burst on Darcy's face, Tony held up a hand. "Okay, hold on, turbo, it's not all kittens and rainbows. They'll still have to face a military tribunal, which is severely outside of what we can meddle with, but at least the federal government won't have means to lock them up, as long as they surrender their passports."

Darcy sat heavily in her seat, the air rushing out her lungs. The tunnel had seemed too long, far too dark, but suddenly there was a light at the end, and it was growing brighter by the minute. "As if a lack of passports is the one reason they got away.”

"Hey, the law only goes so far. We'll type up a statement and parade Rogers and Barnes in front of the cameras. There'll be a meltdown in the press, but we've got lawyers for that kind of thing."

"You mean like me?" Darcy asked, looking at Tony with a raised eyebrow.

"No. They’re baby lawyers. After everything you've done, you're getting transferred to the A Team."

"Oh, yeah? How nice of you to acknowledge all the work I've done," Darcy said with a small roll of her eyes.

"You know what you're worth to me," Tony said, not fidgeting when the weight of Darcy's gaze swung toward him. "Wouldn't have gotten this far with anyone else."

A grin curled on Darcy's lips and she looked down at the floor, a thread of hope blooming in her chest, warm and shiny. "I can't..." She looked up at Tony, ignoring the scratch at the back of her throat and the moisture that pricked her eyes. "I wasn't sure this was actually going to work."

"Don't get too excited yet," Tony said, though the pleased expression on his face spoke to the contrary, "it's still going to take some time. We'll want to make sure everything is in place before we pull the trigger. The last thing we need is something derailing everything we've worked for."

"Ahhhh," Darcy said with a smirk. "so you mean I shouldn’t use the cell phone, which I don’t have, to call a contact at the New York Times, which I don’t have, and release a statement saying ‘Suck it, Ross’? Got it." Darcy's grin only grew bigger when Tony rolled his eyes at her, taking a seat the table. "Great. Good, Let's go over everything and make sure it's watertight. I've been craving Katz's Deli for, like, nine months."

Chapter Text

"Bucky, please don't do this," Darcy begged, her voice dripping with fear, eyes wide.

"You knew what could happen when you agreed to this," Bucky said with a shake of his head, "I guess it's just the luck of the draw."

"I'm begging you, please, after all that we've been through, please, please don't do this!"

"I wish I could, dollface, but it's the name of the game.” Bucky waited one long second before placing a +2 card on the top of the pile, dropping his last card onto the table, a smirk on his lips. “Uno.”

“Mother Fucker,” Darcy growled, letting the two cards she had in her hands drop to the floor dramatically. She’d always been competitive, and the look of victory on Bucky’s face both annoyed and aroused her, and the dichotomy of emotions left her huffing. “I don’t think I’m going to play games with you anymore.”

Bucky laughed, ignoring the narrowed eyes Darcy blazed in his direction. “It was just one game, I’m sure you’ll win the next one.”

“Don’t patronize me, Barnes. I know you well enough to smell that bullshit from a hundred miles away,” Darcy said with a roll of her eyes. She climbed to her feet and made her way to the kitchen, filling a glass with water and taking a long drink. When she turned around, Bucky was standing right next to her, and she gave him a raised eyebrow. “Yes?”

Carefully removing the glass from her hand, Bucky set it in the sink before turning back to her, gray eyes darkened to charcoal. He entered her personal space, watching her pupils dilate when she realized their game hadn’t ended yet. He pressed his lips to hers, fingers sifting through her hair, one hand tight on her hip so he could tug her forward, so the line of their bodies touched.

Attraction lifted the hairs up and down Darcy’s arms and the back of her neck, happily melting against him when he deepened the kiss, a moan falling from her lips as she wrapped her arms around Bucky’s neck. They’d already had each other that morning, but the hunger she felt for Steve and Bucky seemed to be insatiable. The feel of their bodies against hers was familiar now, absolutely perfect, and she craved it like an addiction, always wondering when her next taste would come.

Bucky’s hands trailed down Darcy’s back, curling over her ass and squeezing, lifting her with little effort so she was sitting on the kitchen island. He fit in the space between Darcy’s knees, tugging on her hair so he could tip her head back, exposing the line of her neck and the skin just below her ear. He ran his tongue over the spot then pulled her earlobe between his teeth, feeling a shiver travel up her spine.

“Fuck,” Darcy gasped, legs tightening their hold on his hips, wanting to pull him closer. She stole his lips when he pulled back, desperation lighting her eyes, needing to feel his skin. She raked her nails down his back, his sharp inhale making her smile. She bunched the fabric of his t-shirt in her hands and tugged, pulling it easily over his head and tossing it aside.

Tongue curling into her mouth, Bucky pulled her impossibly closer. His eyes fluttered closed as she leaned forward to kiss a path across his collarbone then up the side of his neck, her breath in his ear making his jeans incredible uncomfortable. She seemed to realize it at the same time and the fumble of her fingers at the button and zipper lifted his lips. He helped her push his jeans and briefs down, stepping out of them and kicking them away.

Her clothes joined his on the floor until she was nude on the counter, body pulsing with heat, and Darcy gasped when Bucky fit himself between her knees again. The island was too tall to accommodate a good angle but he didn’t appear to mind, more than happy to enjoy the feeling of skin against skin, in no rush to finish this too quickly. They had all the time in the world, after all.

Bucky’s hand splayed across her sternum, fingers nearly spanning the width of her chest, then began its slow journey down her body. She was always so soft, curves in all the right places, and the feel of her under his hands was unexplainable. He wanted her all the time, a constant hunger that could never be satisfied, and when he brushed his fingers through her slick warmth, the shudder that ran through her body was delicious.

Darcy’s nails bit into Bucky’s shoulders, eyes fluttering closed as he passed his finger over the spot that made her inhale sharply. She was certain she’d be torn apart by his touch alone, heat pooling in her stomach and carrying her higher. She writhed against Bucky when his finger slid inside of her, moaning at the feeling.

She was also so responsive, groaning and gasping like music, and Bucky found himself chasing her sighs, knowing exactly how to touch her right, wanting to pull her apart before he finished what they’d started. As he added another finger, he pressed their lips together, swallowing her shout, feeling her walls contract around him.

“Bucky, fuck, yeah, oh god, oh, right there,” Darcy babbled, clutching at his arms, fingernails digging in and forcing a shiver up his spine. Bucky found that spot inside that drove her crazy, brushing his finger over it again and again, until she was shouting, until she had to tear her mouth away from his in order to breathe.

Bucky pressed their foreheads together, feeling the sheen of sweat on her skin as they slid, and when she began to tremble, those first tremors that meant she was close, Bucky pulled back so he could watch her face, so he could lock eyes with her. The expression she made as she came, her lower lip quivering, cheeks flushed with pink, was enough to make him groan. Darcy was always stunning, but as her body vibrated, Bucky thought this beautiful moment, her body shaking and her breathing labored, was one of the most gorgeous things he’d ever seen.

Darcy twitched, panting, fingers still dug into his skin as she came down. She closed her eyes, tongue swiping against her lower lip, trying to slow the speed of her heart rate. She’d never met someone who paid as much attention as Bucky paid her body, making it his mission to discover what tore her apart, refusing to stop until he’d mastered it all.

She shouted when his arms wrapped around her waist, lifting her from the counter, hands palming her ass, digging into the flesh with a grip just this side of too much. She expected him to carry her to the bedroom or toward the couches in the living room, so Darcy was surprised when Bucky laid her down on the worn wooden floor, hands trailing down her sides so he could grip her hips and pull her closer.

Bucky took himself in hand, warm and hard and ready, and brushed himself through her slick, coated in her wetness. There was no resistance as he pushed forward, the head of his cock dipping in just enough, both of them groaning at the sensation. Her moan turned into a shout when Bucky snapped his hips forward, burying himself in her completely. He lifted Darcy’s leg, hooking it over his hip so he could hit a deeper angle, jaw clenching as he lost himself in her.

The look on Bucky’s face was almost too much, the lust in his gray eyes darkening them, and Darcy was certain she’d never seen anything so sexy. His lips were parted, his gaze focused, the entirety of his attention pinpointed on her and the way they fit together. She clawed at the floor, crying out when he hit that spot inside, his pace picking up, a growl growing in his chest.

There was no stopping now, and the sounds of their bodies coming together echoed through the room. Bucky crashed against her, over and over, until his thrusts grew erratic, until he could taste his orgasm on the back of his tongue. He shouted Darcy’s name, spilling himself inside of her, eyes rolling at the strength of his release.

When he collapsed, hands pressed to the wood on either side of her head, Darcy turned so she could press her lips to his forearm, chest lifting and falling with satisfaction. She rolled her head back when the back door was pulled open, seeing an upside-down vision of Steve standing on the threshold, his lips parting in shock. As his mouth closed, eyes filling with heat, another shudder ran up her spine. She knew that look in Steve’s eyes, and the implications of his expression left her writhing on the floor.

Bucky lifted his head so he could see Steve, a smirk turning his lips at the expression on his best friend’s face. “This is exactly what it looks like,” he said with a chuckle, groaning when Darcy wiggled below him.

“He was just warming me up for you,” Darcy breathed, watching as Steve strode toward them with determination tightening his shoulders.

In three swift movements, Steve had crossed the floor, lifted his shirt over his head, and slipped out of his jeans. He heard the sounds of sadness from Bucky and Darcy as their bodies came apart, dropping to his knees beside them. He grabbed Darcy’s arm and spun her on the floor, her surprised shout speeding his pulse. He found the best angle, sliding down her body, lifting both of her knees over his shoulders, losing no time as his tongue lapped at her, drowning in the taste of them both.

Darcy’s eyes were wide, one hand tangling in Steve’s hair, the other looking for something to grip, an anchor to keep her from floating away. When Bucky’s fingers threaded with hers, she looked over at him, the dark, knowledge-filled look in his gaze forcing another cry. “Fuck, oh fuck, Steve!”

Watching Steve’s tongue brush against Darcy, his eyes closed as if he was savoring her, was enough to fill Bucky’s cock again. He captured her lips when her back arched off the floor, muffling her babble, palming one of her breasts, thumb brushing over one of her nipples, feeling her shudder.

Steve licked her from top to bottom, once, twice, and when she was practically vibrating against his tongue, he pulled back, her frustrated and disappointed moan curling his lips. She was always so pliable, not complaining when they moved her this way and that, looking for a better fit, and as Steve pulled her on top of him, Darcy seemed to know exactly what he wanted.

Legs widening, knees spreading on either side of his hips, Darcy’s hand wrapped around the base of Steve’s cock, thumb brushing at the precome that glistened on the tip. She felt Bucky move closer at their side, glancing over to see his fingers wrapped around himself, eyes dark. When Steve bucked up against her to catch her attention, she looked back at him with wide eyes, anticipation blazing through her body.

She positioned Steve at her opening but didn’t lower herself down, using his cock to tease herself, brushing over the spot that made her shiver. Darcy used him to circle higher, his fingers tight as they gripped her hips, and when she was close, she dropped herself around him, both of them shouting as he filled her completely.

Bucky watched them both freeze, faces perfect and overwhelmed, beautiful and content. When Steve’s eyes opened, gazing up at Darcy with a hint of disbelief, still in awe of the woman who’d become such a large part of their lives, Bucky had to admit that his face held the exact same expression throughout the day. Every day. It was staggering to think where they were this time last year, how broken they’d been compared to where they were now. Darcy was the only person they’d talked to for almost year, but it was enough. She was enough.

Darcy began moving slowly, tightening her thighs, lifting herself up then dropping with a moan. Steve’s fingers were digging into her hips and she shivered at the knowledge that she’d have marks in her skin in the shape of his hands, marked by one of the men she loved. Her eyes snapped open when a hand brushed between their bodies, slipping over her clit and earning a shout.

Blue eyes wide, Steve watched Darcy glance over at Bucky, their mouths crashing against each other, his hand doing the work so Steve could focus on bringing their bodies together. He felt the roll of Darcy’s hips, the way she writhed against him, driving him crazy, arching his back so he could thrust into her harder, faster.

Though she was on top, Steve had taken control of the pace, pumping himself into her again and again. Between the strength of Steve’s thrusts and the touch of Bucky’s hand, Darcy was on the edge and teetering dangerously. She could feel her body tightening and only had a second of warning before she shouted into Bucky’s mouth, body quaking as she came.

Steve moaned as she fell apart, a flush of pink dusting her chest, and he tightened his hold on her hips as he drove himself into her with a bruising crash, impossibly fast, moan turning into a growl then a shout. He felt warmth on his stomach, eyes flicking toward Bucky, watching as his best friend went rigid with pleasure at his own hand. It was enough to cross Steve’s eyes and the blond cried out as he came, thrusts going shallow, sweat beading his forehead.

Bucky breathed heavily, hearing Steve and Darcy panting just as hard, all three of them floating on a sea of satisfaction and satiation. He dropped to his side on the floor, reaching to grip Steve’s hand, a happy, spent smile on his face. When Darcy shifted on top of Steve, both men’s eyes opened to see Darcy stretched up and to the left, fumbling with something on the counter.

Laughing when she struggled, hearing the boys join in, Darcy was able to stretch just enough to grab the box of tissues from the island. She pulled out a few and wiped the cooling liquid from Steve’s stomach before cleaning herself. The space between the counter and island wasn’t very large, but the three of them managed to fit anyway, Darcy’s leg draping over Steve’s as she fit against his side. She sighed contentedly, blowing an errant lock of hair from her forehead as her heartbeat slowed. “Wow.”

“You weren’t too bad yourself,” Steve said with a light chuckle, wrapping his arm around Darcy’s shoulders and pulling her closer. “I take it you lost your game?”

“Why’dja ask that?” Darcy asked, a thread of suspicion in her voice.

“When you lose a game, we’re forced to ply you with sex so you don’t make life hell for us,” Bucky said with a smirk, eyes shining as a look of offense took residence on Darcy’s face, her eyes flashing dangerously.

Darcy slapped out at Steve’s chest as he pulled her closer, chuckling, and pressed his lips to her temple. “You’re such assholes,” she chided, threading her fingers with Bucky’s when he reached for her.

“No, we’re not.” Steve said, a knowing grin on his face as he buried his nose in her hair and took a deep breath, drowning in the scent of almonds and honey.

Bucky watched Darcy’s eyes roll, sharing a conspiratorial smile where Steve couldn’t see them. There was a light in the depth of Darcy’s eyes, something comfortable and certain, and it was hard for him to remember a time when he’d ever been this content. It’d been hard, dealing with what they had, but they’d gotten through it together, just like she’d said they would.

Darcy felt the tension in Steve’s body before she saw it in Bucky’s eyes, both men going so still that it was unnerving. Darcy lifted her head, looking between them with a frown pulling her lips. “What is it?”

Steve and Bucky shared a look before they climbed to their feet, hands reaching for their discarded clothing on the floor. “Someone’s coming,” Steve said, eyes on the back door as he moved quickly. He didn’t have to look at Bucky to know he was checking the front.

“No,” Darcy said with a shake of her head, fingers fumbling for her tank top and sleep shorts, pulling them on clumsily, “because if someone was coming, the alarms would -” Her words ceased as a soft, but constant whine filled the air. “Shit!” Darcy caught sight of her underwear near the fridge, realizing she’d forgotten them. Welp, if I’m gonna die, at least I went out commando style.

“Someone’s running down the path,” Bucky said, eyes narrowed as he cocked the gun he’d grabbed from below the kitchen island where he’d hidden it the first week they’d been in France. “They’re yelling something and waving their hands.”

“Then they’re not exactly going for stealth, are they?” Darcy asked, taking a step toward the front door but pausing when Steve’s arm stretched out to hold her back.

“Army?”

Bucky shook his head at Steve’s question, pulling on his boots. “It’s a woman. Dark hair. Large tattoo on her neck.”

Darcy frowned. “Is it a cherry blossom?”

“Flower of some kind, yeah.”

“That’s Sabine!” Darcy brushed past Steve’s arm, feeling him stay close to her back as she peered out the window with narrowed eyes before she pulled her glasses on and verified that the woman running toward them was in fact the cafe owner. “How did she…” She reached out for the doorknob, but Bucky’s hand closed over hers, stopping her. “Look,” Darcy said with a sigh, “she is running at us, arms in the air, and screaming. She obviously needs help. Besides, if she wanted to kill me, she could have done it a million different ways by now. Poisoned coffee. Poisoned orange juice. Literally everything I drink there could have been poisoned.”

“She knew how to find the cabin,” Steve breathed, watching Darcy and Bucky’s gazes flick in his direction, “something’s up.”

A huff of air sounded from Darcy’s chest, her face screwing up in annoyance. “Fucking Stark,” she mumbled, pulling open the front door, realizing it was fairly obvious that Sabine had been a plant from the beginning. She ran onto the front porch, legs breaking out in goosebumps at the chill in the air. She waved back at Sabine, seeing the fear in the cafe owner’s eyes as she got closer. “Are you okay!?”

“Men in town!” Sabine’s run didn’t slow, her cheeks pink with exertion as she got closer. “Men with guns,” she panted, running onto the porch, brown eyes flicking past Darcy and toward the two men standing right behind her, one of them holding a gun. She still held a French accent, but it was clear she knew English, too.

“Start from the beginning,” Steve said with his Captain’s voice, watching the woman reach out and grab Darcy’s hand when it was offered.

“Tony hired me to stay put, to brush off anyone’s questions in town, to keep your work safe,” Sabine said, nodding in Darcy’s direction, “and it has been going fine so far. But earlier a big van full of men came to town and started asking questions, like if there’d been any new faces recently. Specifically a dark-haired, American woman.”

“Shit,” Darcy hissed, her eyes widening.

“Before I could stop them, someone in the cafe mentioned a woman called Grace. The men left the cafe and returned to their van. Got on a phone with someone. When they got back out, they had weapons. I told everyone inside to get in the basement. When they were safe, I heard gunfire outside. They have hostages. They say they are going to kill one person an hour until you turn yourself in. I did not know what else to do.”

Darcy’s heart had dropped somewhere near her knees, her stomach in knots. “I was so careful,” she said with a shake of her head and a panicked look at Steve and Bucky, “I never spoke English in town, limited what I said to people, went by a different name. I tried to be stealthy! If I had -”

“This isn’t your fault, Darcy,” Steve said, knowing she wouldn’t believe him, but saying it anyway. His gaze swung toward Bucky. “We’ve got to take them out before someone gets hurt.”

Eyes widening, Darcy slid between the two men, her jaw dropping open. “What!? No! You’re both fugitives, remember? The Accords haven’t been amended yet! If you get caught you go to jail!”

“Not really sure we have a choice, doll,” Bucky said, “if someone doesn’t stop them then people could die.”

Darcy shook her head sharply, “no! No! Maybe I can talk to them, see if -”

“They did not look like the kind of people you can have a conversation with,” Sabine said, apology in her eyes when Darcy turned to her.

Sighing, Darcy turned back to her boys. “Then I’m going with you.”

“No,” Bucky growled, “absolutely not. Out of the question.”

“Excuse me?” Darcy asked, her voice filled with disbelief and offense. She took a step closer to Bucky, eyes flashing. “There’s not a chance in fucking hell that you’re running out there and I’m going to sit here and twiddle my thumbs, so if you want to fight me you can go ahead and square the fuck up, because this shit is happening!”

Steve watched Darcy and Bucky glare at each other, neither of them backing down, both of their eyes filled with determination. “Hey,” he said, stepping in between them, “we don’t have time for this. Bucky and I will go ahead, and Darcy can Sabine can follow us in the car. Don’t get too close to town, but get as many people clear as you can.”

Bucky tore his eyes from Darcy so he could glare at Steve. The longer he looked at the blond, the more he realized Steve was right. They needed help freeing hostages, and if he and Steve were busy with the men, that only left the other woman and Darcy. He looked back toward Darcy, his eyes softening. Fear gripped his heart at just the thought of her being in danger. Knowing she was in danger filled his bones with ice. “If you go above 30 miles per hour, the car backfires,” he finally said, worry and resignation in his tone.

“Okay,” Darcy nodded, dropping Sabine’s hand so she could wrap her arms around Bucky’s neck. “Be careful,” she whispered against his cheek, the taste of fear for her men on her tongue. His whispered ’I love you’ made tears well in her eyes before she repeated the words to him. Darcy pulled back and pressed her lips to his, wanting to linger but knowing she couldn’t.

Darcy moved to Steve, kissing him before squeezing him, too. “Watch out for him, okay?”

“Always,” Steve said with a nod, giving her a quick smile before glancing over at Bucky. The two men practically flew off the porch, running full tilt in the direction of the town.

“Fuck,” Darcy said with a groan, reaching out for Sabine’s hand, the woman’s brown eyes filled with worry when they looked over at her. Darcy was certain she’d never felt this kind of fear in her life, but as she watched the men she loved running off toward a fight, she realized she didn’t have the time to wallow. “Come on.”

Though they’d never been to town, both Steve and Bucky knew where they were headed. The town might have changed over the past seventy years, but they’d been there before, and it wasn’t hard to extrapolate where the edges of the village started. They ducked between the buildings that spread out around the town center, hearing the brrrrp! brrrrp! brrrp! of gunfire.

Following the sound, it didn’t take long to find where the group of men had set up camp. Steve’s eyes took in the information the men gave; they were wearing military fatigues, but the symbols and patches were from fringe groups and not an actual army. Steve remembered that there’d been a pretty big reward for the capture of him and Bucky, and somehow this group had been able to connect the dots. They’d have to worry about what went wrong later, as the mission in front of them was far more important that pointing fingers. “I count ten,” Steve whispered, ducking back once he’d gotten what he needed.

“We’re missing one,” Bucky said, shaking his head, “none of those men are leaders.”

“Can’t wait to find him, we’ve gotta go now.” Steve reached out and fisted his hand in Bucky’s shirt, pulling the other man toward him, kissing him with feeling, blue eyes determined when he pulled back. “I’ll flank them. Wait for my move. We’ll meet in the middle.”

Bucky wanted to tell Steve to be careful, that he loved him, that he didn’t know what he’d do if anything happened to him, but none of those words left his mouth. They’d been fighting side by side since they were children, had walked side by side into the jaws of hell, and there was nothing Bucky could say to properly express what Steve meant to him. He gave Steve a firm nod, watching as the blond got to his feet and began circling the group, looking for a weakness.

“How much did Tony tell you?”

Sabine looked over at Darcy’s question. “He said your safety was of the utmost importance, that you, uh, were an important piece on the game board.”

“Oh, he did not,” Darcy grumbled, “what an asshole.” She felt Sabine shift at her side and looked over with a sigh. “I’m sorry, I’m not mad at you, he just gave me all this talk about how I could have no electronics, just in case someone tracked it, but it turns out he was fucking wrong. I could have had my phone, or taken the laptop home, fuck I could have been introducing Bucky and Steve to Parks and Rec!”

“Actually,” Sabine said, drawing Darcy’s eyes from the road, “I think it was the new computer equipment he sent.”

Darcy’s eyes widened and a disbelieving laugh broke free of her chest. “What?! Are you kidding me? All that subterfuge and he’s the one?” Her slightly manic laughter filled the car, fingers tightening on the wheel, her knuckles gripped white.

“Are you okay?”

“No! No, I’m not okay! I am terrified!” Darcy shouted, feeling like the car was going so slow, “I love those two losers and they’re running headfirst toward people with guns and I’m this close to freaking the fuck out!”

Sabine reached out to pat Darcy’s arm. “I’ve read about them. They’ve been through worse.”

“I know,” Darcy said, taking a deep breath and letting out slowly. “This is just a few guys, right? How bad could it be?”

Bucky’s eyes followed the rock as it was thrown from an alley directly across from him, the sound of glass breaking to his right causing the distraction it was meant to. He climbed to his feet, lifting his gun and shooting the man closest to him in the chest. As he’d expected, the man spun with the force of the bullet but returned gunfire of his own, the kevlar body armor wasting Bucky’s shot.

Zig-zagging from side to side, the whiz of bullets in his ear, Bucky tackled the man around his waist and brought them both to the ground. They rolled in the dirt, knees and elbows flying, until Bucky could press the muzzle of his gun to the man’s knee and pull the trigger, a scream of pain cutting through the air. Another bullet in the seam of body armor stopped the screaming immediately and Bucky jumped to his feet, gesturing wildly at the hostages who all looked at him with worried gazes. “Go!”

Steve’s fist struck out and hit his target in the throat, the choking sound following closely by silence when a well placed elbow hit him in the jaw and took him to the ground, unconscious. He didn’t have a break as gunfire hit the dirt on either side of him, forcing Steve to dive behind a concrete planter next to a small shop. His eyes widened when he saw a group of townsfolk huddled nearby. He glanced behind him, watching as two men came closer, knowing everyone would be cut down if they got too close. Teeth grinding together, Steve jumped out of his hiding spot, making the men follow him and getting them as far away from the civilians as he could.

Staying under thirty miles an hour had been torture, but as Darcy and Sabine parked behind a barn and left the car behind, the sound of gunfire made everything slow to a crawl. She could hear bullets whizzing, the sounds of a fight, and under it all was the punctuation of people’s screams. Innocent people. People she’d walk down the street and smile at.

They don’t deserve this, Darcy thought as they moved closer. Both girls let out a small shout of surprise when they turned a corner and found a group of people huddled together, looking up at them in fright. She cleared her throat softly and spoke in a whisper. “Il y a une grange là-bas. Entrez et restez silencieux. Nous enverrons tout le monde de cette façon.” (There's a barn back there. Get inside and stay quiet. We'll send everyone else that way.)

“Garde la tête basse!,” Sabine said, pointing behind them. “Aller!” (Keep your heads down! Go!)

When they took off toward the barn, Darcy turned back toward the town, ducking her head when shots rang out to their immediate right. Someone was going through the buildings that ringed the town’s central street. They were looking for something.

They’re looking for me, Darcy realized, stomach turning at the thought. She looked over at Sabine with wide eyes. “You said there are people in the basement of the cafe?” At the other woman’s nod, Darcy cursed under her breath. “They’re sitting ducks there.” Her mind worked quickly, realizing what they needed to do. “Okay. I’m going to get to the cafe and go through the backdoor. I’ll send everyone your way. You get as many people to that barn as you can, okay?”

“You shouldn’t go in there alone,” Sabine said with a shake of her head, fear for Darcy evident in her eyes, “it’s too dangerous.”

“Those people are in danger because of me. I’ll get them out, I swear. Just be ready when I send them your way.” Sabine looked at her for another long moment before she nodded once. There was movement to their left and both women looked over to see a small gaggle of townspeople heading in their direction.

Sabine pointed them toward the barn then began moving north, crouched and moving cautiously. When she turned a corner out of sight, Darcy began moving as well, the cafe she’d spent months at becoming her only focus.

The men weren’t military, but they were trained heavily, and when a punch caught Bucky in the chin, he stumbled backward from the blow. He brought a hand to his lip, his fingers pulling back crimson with his blood, tongue darting out to lick the spot where it’d split. In one fluid motion, he loosed a knife he’d picked up and threw it at the man, watching it imbed in his neck. Bucky followed the blade, elbow connecting, riding the man to the ground. He yanked the knife out and launched it toward a doorway to his right, earning a shout of pain from the man who’d been sneaking up on him.

Steve kicked at a trash can and sent it flying, hitting a man in a doorway and sending him to the ground. He kept moving past Bucky and down the alley where he’d seen one of the men dart, the scream of a child splitting the air. When Steve rounded the corner he skidded to a stop, jaw clenching at the sight of the man, holding a child roughly in his arms. “Ne lui fait pas mal,” he said, showing empty hands. (Don’t hurt him.)

When the man smiled darkly, evil in his eyes, Steve knew the type of people they were dealing with, and realized there’d be no room for negotiation. As the kid being held began to cry harder, sobbing when the man jerked him toward a side alley, Steve gave him a small smile. “Ça va. Tout va bien.” (It's okay. Everything's okay.)

The seconds the words had left his mouth, he’d seen a flash of dark metal, a single shot echoing loudly against the brick buildings. Steve darted forward and grabbed the child as the man holding him went slack, falling backward to the ground, a pool of dark red blood growing around his head. Steve shielded the kid’s eyes from the sight, gaze flicking up to see Bucky grab the gun from the dead man’s grasp, looking for his next target.

Steve knelt next to the crying child, smoothing a hand down his hair. “Où est ta mère?(Where is your mother?) The kid pointed over their shoulder, toward one of the shops ringing the town’s center. “Entrer dans. Verrouiller la porte. Ne sortez pas avant que ce soit clair.” (Get inside. Lock the door. Don't come out until it's clear.) As the kid ran to safety, Steve climbed back to his feet, running toward the sounds of fighting.

Darcy slipped through the backdoor of the cafe, freezing inside and listening for any movement. When she was confident there wasn’t anyone waiting for her around the corner, she half-crouched, half-crawled toward the door that led to the basement and the dry storage area for the cafe. She twisted the knob, being as quiet on the stairs as she could. “Je ne suis pas un mauvais gars,” she whispered, showing her open hands, “je suis là pour vous sauver!” (I'm not a bad guy. I’m here to rescue you!)

Slowly, faces appeared from the darkness. The local butcher. The woman who ran the bookstore and garden. Several children. Darcy looked at all of them and felt responsible for the fear in their eyes, steely determination pooling in the pit of her stomach. “Suis moi!” (Follow me!)

Moving slowly, Darcy ducked her head out the back door, glancing in both directions, feeling the group of people waiting just behind her. When the coast was clear, she pushed the door all the way open and pointed in the direction of the barn. “Sabine est à la grange. Aller! Aller!” (Sabine’s at the barn. Go! Go!) She watched as they ran past her, chins tucked to their chests, legs pumping. A grateful sigh passed her lips when they made it safely. Darcy rose to her feet, heading right along the back of the cafe, trying to get a better look at what was happening toward the center of town.

Darcy’s eyes widened when she rounded the corner, her face smacking against a chest, the collision sending her to her ass in the cobblestones. Her eyes took in the camouflage of the man’s uniform before she realized how much trouble she was in. “Fuck,” she breathed, attempting to scramble backward. He was quicker than her, though, and grabbed a fistfull of her hair and yanked on it hard. She howled in pain, hands wrapping around his forearm, trying to pull herself free.

She went still when the muzzle of a gun was pressed to her forehead, heart seizing in her chest. The man’s voice was filled with cruelty. “Oh, c'est bon petit canard, je ne vais pas te faire de mal. Vous êtes notre prochain chèque de paie.” (Oh, it's okay little duck, I'm not going to hurt you. You're our next paycheck.)

Rolling on the ground, Bucky brought his fist down again and again, until the man he’d been fighting was unconscious. Bucky grabbed the man’s gun and tossed it into the fountain, hitting the ground when shots rang out over his head. He watched a streak of blue from the side of his eye, Steve flying out of the alley and attacking the last man with a gun.

In short order, he and Bucky had managed to take down the ten men, all of them either dead, or knocked out and tied up. “Did you find the leader?” Steve asked as he jogged toward Bucky, blue gaze noting that other than a spot of blood at the corner of Bucky’s mouth he was otherwise unharmed.

“No,” Bucky said with a shake of his head, “I saw that woman helping get hostages out.”

“And Darcy?”

“Monsieur l'Amérique?”

Bucky and Steve spun toward the voice, Bucky lifting his gun and pointing it in the man’s direction, watching Steve lift the garbage can lid he’d been using as makeshift shield.

“Je pensais que je te trouverais si je tirais assez de ficelles, et voilà! Vous avez la prime sur votre tête.” (I thought I'd find you if I pulled enough strings, and here you are! You've got quite the bounty on your head.)

Darcy struggled as he tugged on her hair, half pulling, half dragging her further into the town square. She watched Steve and Bucky’s eyes widen, and felt ashamed heat filling her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she growled, yelping when the muzzle of the gun was pushed harder into her skin.

“Vous avez sorti beaucoup de mes hommes, mais je suis prêt à vous faire une affaire. Tu viens avec moi volontairement et je laisse partir cette jolie fille.” (You took out a lot of my men, but I'm willing to cut you a deal. You come with me willingly, and I let this pretty girl go.)

“And if we say ‘no’?” Bucky asked, the gun in his hand not wavering.

“Ensuite, on voit à quel point son cerveau est joli sur les pavés.” (Then we see how pretty her brains are on the cobblestones.)

“Don’t do it!” Darcy shouted, her voice full of emotion, playing up her fear. The man did what she’d thought he would, pulling on her roughly and telling her to shut up. She used his jerky movements to conceal the hand that snaked down her back.

“N'écoute pas la chienne. Je n'aurai aucun problème pour la tuer. Lâche tes armes!” (Don't listen to the bitch. I'll have no problem killing her. Drop your weapons!)

Bucky’s eyes slid to this right, watching the worry tighten Steve’s jaw. When Steve dropped the metal lid to the ground, Bucky’s attention went back to the man. “I could shoot him from here,” he said under his breath, “I can make the shot.”

“It’s too risky,” Steve said with a minute shake of his head, “we need to get closer.” He held his hands up, empty. “Don’t hurt her!”

The man dipped his head in Bucky’s direction. “Maintenant, c'est à votre tour. Laissez tomber, ou elle meurt.” (Now you. Drop it, or she dies.)

When Darcy saw Bucky’s gun hit the ground, it became clear that the odds were not in their favor. She knew Bucky and Steve would have no problem taking this guy out, but since she’d been caught, things were different. She hated herself for becoming some kind of damsel in distress. She knew how to take care of herself, damn it, and the fact that she was being used as leverage filled with her anger.

No. No! Fuck this! Darcy took in a deep breath and held it in her lungs, eyes connecting with Steve and Bucky’s across the space, seeing realization dawn on their faces seconds before she moved.

Darcy pulled the hilt of the blade from where she’d taped it to the small of her back, flipping it like Bucky had taught her before bringing it down as hard as she could, the knife sinking into the man’s thigh. His scream in her ear was loud, angry, and she ripped the blade free, wrist turning to make it as painful as possible. When he stumbled and released his hold on her hair, she took several large steps away from him, surprise on Bucky and Steve’s face as she ran toward them. Darcy saw them flinch, looking over her shoulder, mouths open and yelling.

She knew by their horrified expressions that she wasn’t free yet, and whatever the man was doing wasn’t going to be great. Suddenly, everything slowed to a crawl, like she had all the time in the world to see what was happening. When Darcy turned back to the mercenary, she could see the gun up and pointed in her direction.

His finger squeezed out a single shot, the sound echoing against the stone buildings before there was a sickening ‘thud,’ the knife Darcy had thrown at him embedding in his eye. He stumbled backward before falling to the ground, twitching slightly.

The air rushed out of Darcy’s lungs. She hadn’t aimed for his eye specifically, but she couldn’t complain since it’d done the job. Darcy turned back to Steve and Bucky, a grin lifting her lips, relief coursing through her body. Her smile slipped when she saw the color drain from their faces, their shouts nothing but silence as her head began to pound.

She coughed, tasting blood on her tongue. Blinking, Darcy stumbled back several feet and fell to her ass on the ground, hands brushing down her stomach, feeling the first sharp stab of pain. She lifted her fingers, finding them coated with blood. Oh. Son of a bitch. She tried to listen for the boys but she could hear nothing but the rush of her heartbeat. The pain had turned from a stab to an icy ache, her body beginning to shiver.

Darcy blinked up at the blue sky, the fluffy clouds drifting by, indifferent to what was happening below. She saw a flash of something in all that blue, something leaving an exhaust trail, before a grin lifted her lips again. “Hey look,” she said with a cough, flinching when a spray of blood fell back on her face, “it’s Iron Man.”

“Darcy!” Bucky slid on the ground at her side, hands covering the wound on her stomach and pressing hard, “Darcy, hey! Hey, Darcy, look at me!.”

“L-liar,” Darcy gasped, reaching out to grip his arm, eyes sliding to her left when Steve appeared. “Did I kill that guy? Fuck,” she writhed on the ground, the first tear sliding into her hair, “I think I killed him.”

“Don’t move,” Steve said, glancing up to see eyes looking out at them from windows, desperately searching for someone that could help, “we’re going to get you some help.”

“It’s okay,” Darcy said, shutting her eyes against the dirt that kicked up as crimson and gold armor hit the ground several feet away, “it’s okay, we finished the amendments, you guys, you get to go home now. You get,” she coughed, voice shaking, tongue swiping over her lip, tasting copper, “you can go home.” She cried out when the pressure on her stomach shifted, blinking up at Tony Stark’s face as his metal helm lifted, brown eyes filled with concern. “We got them done, right Tony? T-the amendments? They, they get to go home?”

“We’re all going to go home, Lewis,” Tony said, “keep your eyes open for me, okay? Darcy? Hey! I said get back!”

At Tony’s shout Darcy’s teeth clamped together, pain searing through her stomach, terror stuck in her throat as she tried to nod, hands reaching for her boys, squeezing weakly when they connected. “It’s okay,” she whispered, head tilting to the side so she could see Steve’s face, “I f-finished my mission.”

“Hey, you’re not done yet,” Steve said, mouth falling open as he watched tears leak from the corners of her eyes, feeling the sticky slick of blood as their fingers threaded together, “still plenty to do, remember? All those plans? You’re going to take us to Moriarty’s for shepherd’s pie, so you stay still and we’ll get you patched up.”

“I think I’ll n-n-need a r-raincheck,” she said with a hollow laugh, gagging when more blood filled her mouth, gasping. “I l-love you,” she whispered, watching the devastation fill Steve’s eyes before she turned to her right, catching and holding Bucky’s tearful gaze, “fuck, so much, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

As the darkness circled her, bleeding in the edges of her vision, unstoppable, she blinked up when Bucky’s face bent over hers, his lips forming her name but the sound fading into the blackness as she lost consciousness.

Chapter Text

As consciousness slowly came over her, Darcy’s first thought was that she should be in pain. She’d been shot in the gut, after all, and usually getting shot meant pain. A lot pain. Not that she had any prior experience being shot, but she’d seen enough in TV and movies to know the deal, and yet, she felt only a weird stretch and pull. Am I dead?

“No, you’re not dead,” came a familiar voice.

She didn’t realize she’d said that question out loud, eyebrows knitting together as she slowly squinted open an eye, the bright lights above her jarring. “Tony?”

“Yeah, I’m here,” Tony said, leaning forward so she could see his face.

Darcy frowned up at his semi-blurry form, no memories of being airlifted filtering through her brain. “How long was I out?”

“Couple hours.” When Darcy’s expression shifted toward confusion, Tony continued. “Sabine called me before she ran to get you.”

“Oh,” Darcy said, his answer not really doing much to ease her uncertainty, “I got shot.”

“Yeah, I’m aware. You won’t even have a scar.”

Ignoring the slight wave of dizziness that rolled over her, Darcy lifted her head so she could see her stomach, eyes widening when she saw a clump of white on her skin. “What the fuck is that?”

“Nanites from my suit. If you’d hit any organs this would be a different story, but somehow you were lucky enough to have a clean through and through.”

“Lucky,” Darcy hummed, laying back on the bed. Her head shot up again after a second, her eyes wide. “Wait, were these in your body before? Oh my god, are you now in me?”

The look of utter bewilderment on Tony’s face would have made Darcy laugh, but she was certain laughing wasn’t a great idea in her current situation. “No,” his incredulous answer came, “they’re housed in their own device.”

“Tony Stark saved my life,” Darcy breathed, laying back against the mattress, eyes closing, “how mundane.”

“Ha ha,” Tony said, shaking his head, “you’re incredibly funny, Lewis. If this lawyer thing bottoms out, maybe you can be a stand up -” His brown eyes swung toward the door when it opened, taking a step back and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Darce?”

Darcy’s heart leapt in her chest at the sound of Steve’s voice, turning her head to see him and Bucky make their way into the room. Her smile was bright as she reached for them, hands squeezing when they took hers. There was worry and concern in their eyes, and she felt like the sun was going to burst from her chest with happiness. “If you think this is bad, you should see the other guy.”

“We did, actually,” Steve said, lips curling up in a small grin, “he definitely looks worse than you.”

“He’s alive!?” Darcy asked incredulously. “What the fuck? Now I’m going to have a man with an eyepatch looking for revenge? What a horrible cliche for an arch nemesis.”

“The only thing his eye is going to see is three white walls and prison bars,” Bucky said with a shake of his head, leaning over so he could press his lips to her cheek. “What were you thinking? He could have killed you.”

“I was thinking about how I’d been trained for that exact moment,” Darcy answered, an eyebrow lifting in his direction. “This real hottie wanted me to be able to throw a knife so I’d get enough time to run away.”

“Sounds vaguely familiar,” Bucky rasped, a subdued smirk on his face as she beamed up at him.

“I should be in pain, but I’m not.” Darcy shifted against the bed, looking up at Tony with expectation. “I take it that’s your nanobytes doing?”

“The nanites,” Tony said, knowing for a fact she knew their name but deliberately chose not to use it just to fuck with him, “emit electric currents that deaden your nerve endings as they rebuild muscle, tissue, and skin. You should be good to go in a few hours.”

Steve’s eyebrows when he looked over at Tony. “This is like Cho’s cradle?”

Tony looked over at Steve’s question. “We’ve been working on a way to make it more accessible. Imagine these in hospitals across the country. That’s the goal, anyway.”

“Thank you.” Bucky’s gray eyes flicked up toward Tony, watching a flash of surprise across the other man’s face. “If you hadn’t been there, we might’ve have lost her. Thank you.”

It wasn’t immediate, but after a moment, Tony finally nodded in Bucky’s direction. “I put a lot of money into this project,” he said, a grin curling his lips as he looked back toward Darcy, “figured I’d see it through to the end.”

“How chivalrous of you,” Darcy murmured, unable to wipe the smile from her face.

Everyone gathered looked up when a knock sounded at the door. “Um, you might want to turn on the news,” Sabine said as she stuck her head in the room.

“What now?” Tony seemed to share Darcy’s sentiment, flicking his hand over his watch, a screen appearing to hover in the air for them to see. Shaky cellphone footage played on the screen of Steve and Bucky fighting, the crawl across the bottom reading: Breaking: Fugitives Steve Rogers and James Barnes were caught saving a small French village from armed men.

The image cut back to the newscaster. “New York Senator Lieutenant Colonel James Rhodes states that this mission was carried out with military approval. He announced that Rogers and Barnes will be returning from France shortly, and that they plan to sit before a full senate committee and have agreed to a full investigation.

Meanwhile, the World Council announced that several new amendments to the Sokovia Accords are currently being voted on. We do not have access to those amendments, but a credible source has stated that the amendments will bring an end to the criminal charges levied against those enhanced persons who refused to sign the original Accords.”

“I take it you’re the credible source?” Darcy asked when Tony cleared the image from the air.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Tony said with a shake of his head, unable to keep the shine from his whiskey-brown gaze.

“Mmmmmhmmm,” Darcy hummed, laying back against the mattress. It was quiet for a moment before she sighed. “So what do we do now?”

“I don’t know about you,” Tony said as he started toward the door, “but I’m ready to go to home.”

Darcy looked over at Bucky and Steve, relief in their gazes. “Home home?”

They shared in her smile. “Home.”