Chapter Text
Darcy is woken by a dip in the mattress and the rustle of blankets as Bucky pulls them back and slips in beside her. She grimaces at the rush of cold air into the bed, but rolls towards him anyway, eyes still firmly closed. He smells of sweat and Steve’s mildly obnoxious deodorant, and she recalls a vague and sleep-addled memory of him extricating himself from her some hours ago.
“Morning,” he says softly, and Darcy reaches for him blindly. His skin is hot and slightly tacky with dried sweat, and Darcy would complain, but he’s decided to forgo a shirt and she knows when to pick her battles.
“Hey,” she rasps, voice still stuck in her throat from sleep. Her hand runs up his arm, breathing out slowly at the feeling of warm skin beneath her palm. Almost on instinct, the move well-practiced, she seeks out his ribs; rests her hand open-palmed and possessive over the heavily scarred skin. Bucky shudders beneath her touch and she smiles. “How you feeling?”
“Better.”
“You enjoy your run?”
“Yeah,” he sighs, and Darcy finally opens her eyes. Bucky stares at her with soft eyes and a rueful smile, his hair still tied back in a sloppy bun, strands of hair escaping like they’ve a mind of their own.
“Sorry I woke you.”
Darcy huffs and smiles back lazily. “It’s time I should get up, anyway.”
Bucky’s gaze trails down her face and lingers on the bared skin of her shoulder, where the strap of her tank top has slipped down. “It’s a Sunday,” he says quietly. “Sleep-ins are sacred.”
Darcy huffs a laugh. “That was my rule, wasn’t it.”
“It was,” he says lowly, and curls into her to press a reverential kiss to her shoulder. “You were quite adamant about it, if I recall.”
She hums, and rolls onto her back, dragging Bucky with her so he lies half on top of her. The warm, secure weight of his body on hers is a comfort, and he snickers at the move- it’s one she’s pulled off plenty of times before. Darcy tightens her grip on the sides of his chest as he tilts his head up to kiss her. It’s slow- lazy. He tastes faintly of red Gatorade; she laughs into his mouth at the realisation. Bucky pulls back, looking mildly affronted.
“What?”
“Show us your tongue.”
He frowns at her in confusion and mild-disapproval and Darcy giggles at the sight. She laughs even harder when he complies, sticking out his tongue to show the unnaturally red stain.
“I thought you said you hated that crap.”
“Hated what?” he asks, eyes wide as he feigns innocence. Darcy scratches at his ribs lightly in retaliation and watches with satisfaction as his pupils dilate and his breathing stutters faintly.
“Last time you had Gatorade, you spat it out and poured all of Sam’s bottles down the drain.”
His gaze slides off to the side, cheeks turning a faint pink. “It… grows on you,” he admits grudgingly and Darcy bites her lip as she grins. Bucky’s eyes follow the gesture, and he leans back in to kiss her again. “It tastes better when you’re stealing it, anyway.”
Darcy lets out a sharp, startled laugh. “Sam is gonna give you so much shit.”
“I know,” Bucky sighs happily. “That’s why I do it.”
“Incorrigible,” she tells him, trying to be stern but failing horribly. “You’re meant to be the responsible one.”
He rolls his eyes and steals another kiss from her. “That’s not a very high standard to go by. Ninety percent of the tower are just kids with fancy jobs and costumes.”
Darcy sucks in a sharp breath as his mouth moves south, light stubble scratching lightly at the sensitive skin of her neck. “Jane and Thor are responsible!” she reasons, feeling like she needs to defend at least someone in the Tower. “Magni’s a great kid!”
“Thor still thinks pop-tarts count as a nutritious breakfast.”
“Well aren’t we all high-and-mighty this morning, mister I-like-to-pretend-my-girlfriend-doesn’t-know-about-my-secret-stash-of-Captain-Crunch.”
Bucky glances up at her, mouth moving regretfully away from the top of her breast. “We’ve talked about the Captain Crunch; it’s for Magni when it’s our turn to babysit.” And bless him, but he says it so seriously Darcy almost believes him. She raises an unimpressed brow.
“He’s two!”
Bucky looks sheepish. “I still maintain that was Pietro’s stash.”
“And Wanda maintains that you’re a dirty fuckin’ liar, so guess who I’m more inclined to believe.”
“… Me?”
She laughs, and his eyes brighten with poorly-disguised mirth. “Ridiculous.”
“You love me.”
The corners of her lips quirk, and she holds herself up with one elbow to cup the side of his face with her free hand. “I do,” she tells him seriously. Bucky huffs, flushing again, and buries his face between her breasts. She runs her hand through his sweaty hair comfortingly; even now, expressions of affection startle him, like he expects her to leave at any moment. His breath is hot against her skin, even through her tank top, and she shivers at the sensation, her body pressing up against him almost against her will.
Bucky peeks up at her and she raises her eyebrows in obvious challenge. “You did wake me,” she tells him imperiously. He rolls his eyes, but his flesh hand creeps southwards, warm fingers seeking out the hem of her tank top. She sighs in resignation when he pushes the material up over her breasts, but doesn’t bother taking it off, the soft material gathering beneath her arms.
“Really?” she asks laughingly, but Bucky ignores her in favour of palming her breast and rolling the nipple between his fingers. Her breath catches in her throat and Bucky smirks at her wickedly.
“I did wake you. Seems only gentlemanly to make it up to you” he says, before his focus shifts back to her breasts, laving at the hardening peaks with his tongue. His mouth feels impossibly hot, and Darcy can’t stop her body from twitching eagerly beneath his care. She closes her eyes and revels in the expert way he works at her; her breasts have never been especially sensitive, but she knows from experience that extended attention to them can turn her into a gasping, whimpering wreck.
Today however, Bucky seems intent on other things, and soon enough his mouth trails lower, peppering kisses across her skin reverently. He rubs his stubbled cheeks across her lower abdomen like an affectionate cat who likes to keep guns under the bed and she laughs again at the faintly ticklish sensation, and parts her legs for him to settle between.
“I love you,” he tells her bellybutton, and something in her chest constricts at the admission. Declarations from him are rare- he still has trouble sometimes emoting properly, but Darcy always knows how he feels. He tells her in other ways; in soft kisses before bed, and bouquets of flowers on her desk and arms encircling her waist from behind as he slots himself behind her. Still, to hear the words so softly said- it makes her smile and run her nails through his hair in reward. Bucky hums happily.
“Love you too.”
“Steve’s gonna ask Sam to marry him.”
Darcy lifts herself up on her elbows to glare at her boyfriend. “Seriously?” she asks, unimpressed. Bucky at least has the grace to look somewhat sheepish. “You tell me this now? Could the news not have waited until after?”
“I… only just remembered.”
“Only just-” her eyes widen- “hang on, when, exactly, did Steve tell you this?”
He rests his chin lightly on her pelvic bone and looks up at her through his eyelashes. Darcy’s eyes narrow. “…Two days ago?”
“Are you serious?” she cries. “Two days? James Buchanan Barnes, you are so naughty!”
Bucky wiggles his brows at her, the guilty look long gone. “Yeah?” he asks, voice rumbling from deep in his chest. The sound, uttered from between her thighs, is obscene. “You gonna punish me, doll?”
Darcy’s gut clenches at the implicit promise in his voice and she tightens her thighs around his shoulders in retaliation. She’ll never manage to strangle a man with them like Natasha, but right now she’s certainly tempted to try. “Keep talking like that and I’ll go looking for a wooden spoon,” she threatens him. Bucky just laughs at her, eyes growing darker. He nips lightly at her hip, and Darcy would mourn the loss of the lazy morning vibe if she weren’t so turned on.
“That a promise?”
She swallows, mouth dry. “Do you want it to be?” she asks carefully. They’ve not talked about this kind of stuff; for the most part, Darcy’s always thought Bucky was content keeping things vanilla, and while she was never going to complain, the idea of dabbling in more has arousal coiling in her gut and a flush spreading across her cheeks.
Bucky looks almost shy when he looks at her again, and there’s a slight curve to his lips that makes Darcy’s heart throb just a little bit more for him. She loves this idiot of a man. “I mean… it could be fun, right?”
She runs her nails through his hair contemplatively. “It can be,” she admits. “It’s meant to be.”
His eyes light up in surprise. “You’ll think about it?”
She rolls her eyes. Like it’s such a burden for her (haha). “If that’s what makes you happy, of course I will you beautiful idiot.”
Bucky beams at her and she laughs when he leans up to kiss her soundly. “You-” he says breathlessly, in between kisses, “are. The best. Soulmate ever.”
She tightens her legs around his waist suggestively. “I know.”
He pulls away, grinning down at her, that familiar, intent look returning to his eyes and Darcy’s laughter turns into a breathy whimper as he rolls her nipple between his metal fingers. “Fuck!” she gasps, body unsure if she wants to lean into the touch or jerk away. Bucky smirks.
“We’ll get there,” he promises. Darcy bites her bottom lip and arches into his touch.
“We’d fucking better,” she growls. “I believe you were in the middle of something before you started talking about Steve?”
Bucky nods slowly, and his arm whirrs quietly, a familiar, steady sound in the quiet of their bedroom. “I was- sorry ‘bout that.”
“Well if you could carry on, it’d be much- hah- much appreciated. And this time don’t just tear the panties off.”
He snickers. “But where’s the fun in that?”
Darcy rolls her eyes at him. “I’m sure you can find yourself some fun elsewhere.”
“Mm,” he hums. His mouth travels southwards once again and Darcy’s nerves seem to quiver with poorly disguised anticipation, and briefly she wonders at how easy this thing between them has become. She can scarcely remember the first time they truly clicked into place. “I’m sure I can.”
She sighs happily, and lets her legs fall open a little further as Bucky rains kisses down her thighs. Her heart feels peaceful.
Things are good.