Chapter Text
Steve blinked at Darcy. The way she’d stated the impossible as the easiest thing in the world with such confidence was slightly intimidating.
“Who’s got it?”
“I think Tony has it, if not then General Ross.”
“Shit, I sure hope General Ross doesn’t have it.”
Steve nodded in agreement. Darcy was pacing back and forth in front of Bucky.
“If General Ross does have it, I would know. I’ve spent the past few days hacking away, and boy am I excited to to try out the Wakandian tech,” she trailed off and looked at the screens surrounding her with longing.
“But anyway,” she shook her head, getting back on track, “I have been keeping an eye on General Ross and his stuff and he hasn't added any new projects, other than ‘up all night to get Bucky,’ which means he doesn’t have it.”
“It could have been a secret project?”
“Nah, then there would have been more resistance to my hacking and a bigger pieces of data would be hidden. No he definitely doesn’t have it. If he did then he’d have started working on it right away. He really wants to control all superheroes so that book would have been his biggest win since forever.”
“Then Tony has it.” Steve frowned, thinking of how he’d nearly killed the man.
“Good, then this is much easier.”
“How is it easier? We didn’t exactly have a friendly parting. I don’t think I can just ask him to give it to me.”
“That’s why you will not be asking for it.” Darcy interrupted. “And it’s not as if I was planning on asking for it either.”
“Then what’s your plan?”
“ I’ll be the one getting it,” She smiles, a smile so close to the one Natasha has when she’s talking to her target right before she does her roundhouse kick. Steve feels the hair on the back of his neck rise and for the first time since he met her, Steve Rogers fears Darcy Lewis. “With political science and a dash of Vibranium.”
And with that she turned around and walked towards the door. Finally regaining a little more of that spark she’d had before she saw Bucky.
“Well, then I guess there is just one big thing we need to sort out to get this show on the road.” Darcy said, rubbing her hands together, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. “We gotta get T’Challa to give me Vibranium worth 4 million dollars. Should be easy right?”
***
It was barely light outside when she woke. After a good 15 minutes of struggling with the air mattress she’d finally gotten it inflated and fell onto it, thoroughly exhausted. Now though, it couldn’t be more than two hours later and she was woke with the feeling that something was off.
Glancing over at Bucky, seeing his form still huddled under the blanket, breathing steady, she concluded that the only off thing about waking now was that it was five o’clock in the morning.
She was just about to doze off again when she heard it.
There was a whimper, a distinct whimper, followed by some rustling of the blanket.
She opens her eyes wide to look over at Bucky again, turning onto her side to see him better. He’s curled in on himself and shaking, his leg spasms slightly every now and then. Darcy has a hysterical thought for a second, that Bucky is dreaming he’s a dog, begging for food at the table and thumping his leg when someone pets him, like her grandma’s dog used to do. Only for a second though, because the spasms spread from his leg to the rest of his body, and he’s shaking his head, muttering ‘no’ over and over.
Darcy sits up to try and look at his face, and sees it contorted with pain, his arm starts buzzing, recalibrating, the plates moving frantically, like he’s lost control. She’s half way out of bed when her brain catches up to her body and she freezes, weighing her options.
She wants to wake him up. He’s clearly having a horrible nightmare, but she is unsure whether you’re supposed to wake people up from nightmares, maybe it was just sleepwalkers you had to let sleep? She’s too tired to remember and feels handicapped without google, but there are no signals for miles that she can piggyback on. Bucky stills, and Darcy can hear her own breath, coming out much harder than she expected, in the sudden silence.
“Bucky?” She whispers, then clears her throat and tries again a little louder after not getting a reaction. “Bucky?”
He starts muttering. It’s a whole mixture of American, Russian, and what sounds like Italian, and maybe even French? It creeps her the fuck out, and she is about to get up and walk over to him, but in the process she disturbs the curtains behind her, splitting them for a second and letting a beam of moonlight in that reflects off his arm. She pauses, then goes back to her own bed. She’s not stupid. She might not have the best track record when it comes to safety, but she knew from experience that waking people was not always the best option. Jane had the habit of sitting up so fast that she’s headbutted Darcy more than once, While Eric, after his time with Loki, often had nightmares that had him lashing out at whatever woke him, no matter if it was his cat, an intern or an alarm clock.
There was no way in hell she was going to put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder, when one split-second of confusion could result in rather severe injuries. She didn’t fancy getting his metal fingers wrapped around her throat or being knocked across the room. She might have little self perseverance, or whatever, but she is not suicidal.
She stays awake in her bed waiting for the nightmares to stop, the first lights of dawn coming in before he’s finally calm for longer than a minute. Darcy feels her body go lax as she takes a deep breath, and finally succumbs to sleep again.
**
Darcy gets the Vibranium, and Steve is honestly impressed.
It took her an hour of banter and discussions around Wakanda’s (lack of) trade history, and Steve was barely able to get a comment in, not having enough knowledge of the 70 years of politics he missed. With a smile, a handshake, some popcorn, and two cups of the strongest, sweetest coffee he’d ever had the pleasure of drinking, Darcy makes her way back to her room to pack her bags while T’Challa makes the arrangements. Darcy’s already out of the room when when Steve turns to T’Challa who is smiling at him.
“Smart one, that one.”
Steve glances to the doorway and back to the King.
“She is,” he agrees, then; “she’d do anything for Bucky.”
“Then Mr. Barnes is a lucky guy.”
Steve frowns down at his little cup, setting it down on the mat and brushing the sweetbread crumbs off his lap as he stood up.
“Sure,” Steve sighs, having decided to stay cautious until Bucky told him she made him happy. He looks out at the foggy jungle, trying not to dwell too much on Bucky’s love life. A flock of colourful birds flies out of a nearby tree, around the great Panther statue and back into the canopy. Steve tears his eyes away from the statue, trying not to compare it to the Starks’ many monuments to themselves, reminding himself that it was older than even him.
T’Challa meets his eyes with a knowing look, Steve is a bit taken aback with the way they twinkled, his ears warming slightly under his warm gaze.
“You will find your luck, too,” T'Challa says, nodding and exiting the room. Steve stands staring after him, wondering what he’d meant. Was it that obvious that he was lonely? Did T’Challa think he was falling for Darcy? Did he think he had feelings for Bucky or Sam or Natasha or him? Maybe he even knew about the (slightly awkward) kiss between him and Sharon, Steve wouldn’t put it past him. Deciding it wasn’t important, Steve followed after T’Challa out of the room, and made his way to the labs.
“It’s alright, Bucky,” Steve paused when his enhanced hearing could just about make out Darcy’s voice coming from the lab, feeling slightly guilty for eavesdropping, but unable to help himself, Steve snuck closer, peering around the corner. He could just about make out the cryochamber, the glow from it only blocked by Darcy’s form standing in front of it, the light making the curly hair, poking out of her braid, light up like a halo.
“Steve’s here, alright? He’ll help, and I know I can do this, like I did in Rome on our anniversary, and sure you aren’t here to growl at my accent, or kick my ass into gear, but Steve is. He’ll do anything to get you back, we both will, so I know you can’t hear me, Bucky, but I need you to know that we’re coming back, we’re getting you outta there, and you’ll never ever have to go back. And after this is all over, we’ll move somewhere warm, with plenty of sun for me to complain about, and a huge bathtub you can soak in after a bad night.”
Steve suddenly felt really embarrassed, both for his doubts in Darcy, his jealousy of her closeness with his Bucky, but also because here he was, listening in on a rather private moment. His Ma would have his hide had she known how his manners had slipped in this century.
Then again I rather think she’d understand, Steve thought, well, in most cases, perhaps not this.
He stealthily made his way back the way he’d come, intent on packing up his few belongings, while ignoring the soft sniffs and muffled sobs he could hear from Darcy.
*
Bucky isn’t there when Darcy wakes the next morning, and she wearily cleans herself up as best she can in the dark, dusty space, hoping they’ll go somewhere with running water and electricity next. After a rather uncomfortable trip to the bathroom (read: the bushes a little off the trail) Darcy walks back to the little house, rooting around in her bag for her hand sanitizer. She looks up at the house and sees the door ajar and immediately falls to the ground, blood pumping in her ears as she rolls to the car, trying not to panic even though she swears she closed the door before she left. She’s flat on her stomach, and about to inch her way under the car when she hears a voice.
“Good reflexes, terrible stealth.”
Darcy sighs in relief, letting her body go slack on the ground as Bucky’s smirking face appears over her, sideways with his hair covering half his face. She rolls onto her back and does a sit-up (ignoring Bucky’s huff of laughter at her weak abdominals) and try to dust herself off as best as possible, regretting putting on the last clean sundress she had now that it was covered in dirt and grass.
“Any constructive criticisms for your young padawan?” Darcy grumbles, taking the bag he holds out for her, only partially softening once she was the coffee and pastries inside.
Bucky, who clearly hadn’t seen Star Wars, didn’t bother asking her what a padawan was, but simply retrieved the bags from the little house instead. “Next time; keep your eyes open before you’re five paces from the target.” Was all he advised, and Darcy who felt it fitting that he had to carry her bags into the car as well, started devouring her breakfast as she watched him do just that.
They sit together on the hood of the car, eating in silence, only broken after they’re done and Bucky sighs, closing his eyes and standing completely still, as if taking in the moment. And Darcy will let him have this moment of tranquility, let him remember the sounds of morning birds, the smell of dewy grass and coffee, and the morning sun warming his face.
She doesn’t bring up the nightmare, neither does he so she’s going to go against her instinct and not mention it at all. Not this time anyway.
Not with his handsome face relaxed and worry-free for a few seconds.
“We’ll come back here tomorrow, Hydra might not check this place out at all, but if they do, they’ll do it around noon today, it’s best to circle back and hide where they least expect us to.”
“Sure,” Darcy nods, following his logic, “can we please go somewhere with a shower tonight though?”
**
“ I don’t mind my men pudgy,” Darcy shrugs as she dips another hand full of fries in her milkshake, before shoving them into her mouth. They’d landed in the States a few hours ago and driven out of Texas ever since. Texas seemed to last forever.
“Not that he is, though.” Darcy, clarified after she’s swallowed the fries, “pudgy, I mean. Jesus, whatever serum they pumped him full of made all the food go to his biceps and abs and that shit is just so fucking unfair, because guess who’s eating all that food with him!” She gestures wildly, pointing dramatically at herself. “I mean look at this shit, this is just unfair… All I have to do is look at pie and gain a pound,” She moped, shirt pulled up to expose the tiny rolls that came with sitting hunched over in a tiny booth, then she dipped and stuffed another handful of fries into her mouth.
“You’re not fat?” Steve said, confused by these women and their unattainable 21st century body ideals.
“Thank you for sounding so certain, Stevie, luckily Bucky told me about your hopelessness with women, so I’ll take your uncertainty about my Schrödinger’s fat as a compliment... Most of the food went to my tits and ass anyway.” She pulled down her shirt and crossed her arms angrily over her chest, voice full of bitterness. Steve let his eyes slide down to her chest, then past the edge of the table at her ass for a second.
“Are you checking me out?”
“No, ma’am.” Steve lied and blushed as he looked away, pretending that the abandoned parking lot was incredibly interesting. Darcy laughed into her milkshake before she stuffs another load of dairy covered fries into her mouth.
“Isn’a s’if I care,” she chewed furiously and swallowed, concentrating on dipping another bouquet of fries in her milkshake. “Buck’ll love me no matter what size I am, and he’s all about the ass anyway.” She shrugged and stuffed the fries in her mouth, Steve laughed.
Bucky’s got a nice ass, so does Sam... and Natasha, he caught himself thinking, blushing slightly and looking down at his food. Steve thought all butts were nice in general, so he guessed he was all about the ass too.
***
Bucky took mercy on her and got them a room at a little motel-like place, unfortunately it was one of those places with a common bathroom, but Darcy would take what she could get.
“We gotta do laundry tomorrow,” Darcy commented idly, watching the waves crash in on the beach. She was lounging on a towel Bucky had procured somewhere, wearing the last clean outfit she had, pale legs slathered in sunscreen as said clothes were on the shorter side. At least she didn’t stick out, like Bucky, who sat next to her on what looked like a phone, wearing a hoodie, jeans and ass-kicking-boots.
“Ok,” Bucky agreed.
They fell into silence again.
“At least take your shoes off,” Darcy tried, again.
“No.”
“Fine, but I can’t watch you sweat through those clothes.”
“I’m not, I like the heat.” Something in his voice made her drop it.
“Do you at least want an ice cream?”
Bucky is about to decline, when Darcy just rolls her eyes and stands up, walking over to the little ice cream stand at the edge of the beach.
She looks at the many flavours, and is about to get him vanilla when she pauses. If there was one thing she’d noticed, it was that Bucky loved food. He ate constantly, and varied. Even just after a couple days on the run, he’d always opted for the newest options, and though she’d spent most of the car ride here eating the same candybars, he’d rarely eaten the same thing twice.
And she understood, really, if she’d grown up during the Great Depression and then been thrown into a world of unnatural flavours, she’d probably take advantage too. Maybe it was more to it though. She remembered the small boot camp Jane had complained about suffering through a short while after Darcy had left her. Jane had been given meals at strict times, in between exercises, it must be the same for Bucky. Having Hydra feed him army rations.
Or, a horrible thought struck her, maybe they didn’t feed him at all? IV’s, those calorie pills for new moms without enough body fat to breast feed, scraps, perhaps?
“Madame?” The ice cream vendor asked, and she looked up at the menu again, trying to push the depressing thoughts out of her mind.
“Oui, eh, je vous drais deux glace, avec, eh, deux…”
“Scoops?” The man smiled. “My english is little, but tourists.” he explained, waving an arm out towards the beach.
“Thanks, two icecreams, one with lemon and raspberries, one in the big chocolate cone with,” she looked at the menu for some weird flavours, “the black, eh noir, one and dark chocolate.”
The man smiled and started scooping, talking broken english to her, but from what she could piece together he thought she was Swedish because she ordered the black ice cream. Apparently salty liquorice was a popular choice among the Scandinavian tourists, and judging by the pale people here, there were a lot of them.
“Here,” she handed the monstrosity of a cone over to Bucky, plopping down on the towel next to him.
“Thank you.”
They sat in silence, licking their ice creams, Darcy tried not to stare as some of the black ice cream melted over Bucky’s fingers and he stuck said fingers in his mouth to lick it off. Fuck that. He’s too hot to be legal.
He met her eyes and raised an eyebrow, having caught her staring at his lips for a little too long. She cleared her throat, almost choking on her own spit, “any plans for tonight?”
Bucky frowned slightly and passed the phone-looking thing over to her. It was a small screen displaying the house they’d been in the night before.
“You placed surveillance?”
Bucky gave her a deadpan look.
“Sorry, of course you did. Have they been there yet?”
“Two of them came at around two pm, they left no traps that I’m aware of, we should return there tonight.”
“Nooo,” Darcy whined, “but I just took a shower, I was planning on going swimming after the ice cream!”
“Then don’t swim.”
“Fine.” She huffed. She ate the rest of her ice cream in silence.
“For dinner,” Bucky started hesitantly, after he’d demolished the ice cream cone, yucky liquorice and all, “we could eat…”
It was Darcy’s turn to give him a deadpan look.
“Out. We could go out. Eat at a restaurant.” Bucky smiled at her. Damn, either he really wanted some great food, or he was kinda asking her out.
“Like a date?” Darcy teased. Well, half-way teased. Actually she was just straight up asking, but the tone was light.
“I- yes?” Bucky looked hesitant, like he wanted to take it back. Darcy grinned at him.
“Coolio, I don’t have any fancy clean clothes though.”
“You don’t need to get dolled up.” He quickly assured her, looking at the sandy corner of the towel, as if he wanted to fidget with it.
“It would be nice though, maybe for another time,” She smiled, he looked up at her, a small grin spreading over his face and she could swear he was a little pinker on his cheeks. She hoped he’d smile like that more.
“Yeah?” he asked, sounding both relieved and hopeful.
“Yeah,” she agreed, feeling her own face grow hot as she met his eyes. “You got anywhere in mind?”
***