Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jane having taken a temporary consulting position with NASA had been a huge break for Darcy when Sam had been shot. For the better part of six months she'd been just a Metro ride away from him. Sure, it might have taken always having a pair of walking shoes on hand so she could make a run for the next train, and there'd almost always been a transfer or two in the journey, but she could get from Goddard to him in inside of an hour.

She'd honestly appreciated it at the time—she'd gone to see him almost every day in the hospital and rehab, and then had figured out the new route and transfers down to his grandmother's house in Anacostia--but then, of course, he was back up at the Avenger's compound (located inconveniently in Eyes-Only, Middle-of-Nowhere county, NY) and she was relying on Skype and texting to keep up. Since she did have mad texting skills (if she did say so herself), and Skype was, like, the best thing ever, things were going along pretty okay, right up until they weren't, and Darcy had no idea what had happened.

She put the first week of apathetic texts down to the ups-and-downs of long-distance relationships. When it didn't get any better during the second week, she spent a lot of time pacing and staring at her phone, and thinking all those stupid, what-did-I-do? thoughts from those horrible relationship books her mom always had around, the ones that she'd always hated for how it made it always seem like the girls' fault. After the third week, she maybe, sorta lost her shit and left a long, ranting message on his voicemail.

"Seriously," she told Jane as she stormed around their office/lab space (which fortunately had a door that closed and locked), "if he thinks I'm just going to fade into the background like a sweet little girl, he has got another fucking thing coming." She threw herself in front of her computer and started cutting-and-pasting the list of jobs they were submitting to the mainframe. "Like, okay, if he wants to break up, fine, I can't really do anything about that, and why would I want him if he doesn't want me—" She stopped and took a deep breath because she didn't think she was kidding anyone about how much she actually did want him no matter that he was looking like he didn't want her. It would take a while to get that sorted out in her brain, but she promised herself she wouldn't be clingy and pathetic about it all. "But for real, he's going to have to tell me that to my face."

Jane said, very calmly, "It doesn't sound like Sam to jerk you around like this."

"I wouldn't have thought so either," Darcy answered. "But here we are." She stabbed at her keyboard for another few minutes. "I'm going to go up there. Steve said I should take the train and he'd meet me in Albany and drive me the rest of the way."

As long as Darcy didn't think about how Captain America was volunteering to be a chauffeur, she could just keep pretending it was just a regular break-up with yet another of her slacker boyfriends. Once the super-hero aspect of it came into play, her brain was all about reminding her that of course she wasn't a good fit for the Falcon so why was she so surprised it was all falling apart? They hadn’t even had sex yet, her brain always went on. Why wouldn’t he be tired of her?

"That's probably a good idea," Jane said, interrupting the negative thought patterns as if she could hear them herself. "You can see what's really going on."

That was the other thing that Darcy didn't really want to think about: Sam hadn't struck her as the kind of guy who did the passive-aggressive break-up by silence, but she could absolutely see him backing off if he was hurt so he wouldn't freak her out. She'd like to think that Steve would keep her in the loop if that was true, but guys and their bro-code were weird sometimes.

With Jane agreeing that something weird was going on, Darcy had zero qualms about taking the next Friday off and heading out early to get to the train. She must have had her total murder-face on, too, because nobody so much as wished her a Happy Friday, pretty lady, not even when she was navigating the transfers at Penn Station.

The last train was an express and the sun was still setting early, so Darcy had plenty of time to stare blankly out of the window at the dark without any starts or stops or stations to distract her. By the time they got to Albany, all of her demons were playing out their worst-case scenarios in full, amazing Technicolor. Not even Steve's hug helped much, though his smile did kind of brighten up the dull background to all of Darcy's mental gyrations. The half-caf, almond milk, chocolate chip frapp he handed her didn't hurt either.

"I thought you were morally opposed to doing this to coffee," Darcy said, waggling the cup and licking at the whipped cream and nut sprinkles that had escaped through the top of the dome cover.

"I figured I could make an exception this once," Steve answered, promptly wiping out all the good the drink did, as Darcy's brain leapt back to its Worst Case analyses, this time landing on Scenarios #3 through #7--the Fatal Illness Variations. Her face must have shown it, because he added quickly, "Because I know you like them, and I can pretend it's not coffee if I'm not the one drinking it."

"Okay," Darcy said, willing her heart rate back down to something approaching normal. "Just--tell me what's going on. Please?"

Steve sighed. "I promised Sam I wouldn't." He flipped the locks on the predictable dark SUV they were walking up to. "I don't necessarily agree with him, but I did give my word."

"All right, whatever, warrior's code, blah blah blah," Darcy said, climbing up into the passenger seat. "Just, I don't know, blink twice if he got hurt and is trying to pretend everything's fine. He's doing a sucky job at that, in case you hadn't figured it out."

"He's not hurt," Steve says, but he's really serious and Darcy isn't as reassured as she should be. "Not like you're thinking."

"But you're worried about him."

"I'm… glad you decided to come," Steve said, which, again: NOT REASSURING. She'd totally given up trying to rein in her emotions and he added, "I'm glad to see you and Sam will be, too, and it's always nice to have visitors."

"Your mom should be super-proud of your manners," Darcy told him, juggling her frapp and the seatbelt. "And now, I'm going to super-nonchalantly change the subject so I'm not hyperventilating by the time we get there, and hassle you about your taste in music."

"Hassle away," Steve said, letting her get her picky groove on for the entire drive to the middle of nowhere.

The compound was very compound-y: lots of big, important looking buildings and spaces for planes and helicopters and random other vehicles to zoom in and out. The floors where people lived were nice, but still felt kind of like dorms, even if all the common areas had every electronic playtoy known to humankind, and probably a few that weren't if Darcy was going on all the things she'd heard about Tony Stark.

Steve shepherded her through the floors, which were quiet and kinda deserted--People do have social lives, Steve told her, and she managed not to point out that he apparently didn't, which even her semi-freaked-out, hamster-on-speed brain realized would be rude given that he did come get her and all.

"Sam's room is the last one on the right, at the end of the hall," Steve finally said, pointing her in the right direction. "I'll be in the kitchen; yell if you need anything."

Darcy nodded and took a couple of deep breaths. "Wait," she called to Steve, and went over to give him a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks," she said. "For everything."

She meant more than just driving into the city to get her--he'd obviously been keeping an eye on Sam, and that meant a lot to her, but now that she was here, her brain wasn't finding its words, which didn't bode well for walking down the last hall and seeing what was up with her very own uncommunicative Avenger, but Steve smiled down at her and she thought (hoped) he got it.

And then she didn't have a single remaining excuse, so she did what she'd come here to do: she walked down the hall and knocked on Sam's door.

"Rogers," she heard Sam yelling from inside, "Damn it, for the fiftieth time, no, I do not want to go grab dinner. Quit with the damn mother-henning."

His voice got louder with every word, so Darcy was mostly prepared for him yanking the door open a beat after he finished, or at least prepared enough that she didn't jump when she was confronted by her errant boyfriend, wearing nothing but a snarl and a pair of really low-hanging basketball shorts.

"Not Steve," she managed to say, "but not opposed to grabbing dinner."

Under ordinary circumstances, she'd have laughed her ass off at the dumbfounded look on Sam's face; now, she couldn't help blurting out, "And you've lost weight so you shouldn't be opposed to it either."

"I--" Sam said. "You--How--?"

"I'm going to be nice and answer you literally," Darcy answered. "You stopped answering my texts; it didn't seem like you and I--my feelings were freaking out so I yelled at you on voicemail; Steve's told me nothing, but didn't tell me I shouldn't come; there were a couple of trains involved; and Steve brought me the rest of the way."

"Okay?" Sam said, and at least Darcy recognized the semi-baffled but still affectionate look as he parsed her clauses. She'd been beginning to wonder if she'd just thought she'd had a good thing going with him, but people usually didn't look like they liked her babbling when they were getting ready to break up with her. "You didn't have to haul ass all the way up here, though."

"Yeah," Darcy snorted. "You didn't want that to happen, you could have used your words." She eyed him up and down, and yeah, he really had lost some weight. She was not a fan of this, not given that he was keeping up with the super-powered crew. "You know, your friends, the words?"

"Yeah," Sam sighed. "I know." He stepped back and gestured. "Come on in."

"I wasn't kidding about the dinner part," Darcy said, but she followed him in, and then, when he leaned in, she let him kiss her. He was careful and it was sweet and she still didn't know what was going on, so she resolutely didn't allow herself to enjoy it.

Much.

Instead, she said, "You look… I don't know, a little messed up."

"It's not anything big," Sam said quickly, to which Darcy rolled her eyes. "Nothing out in the field," Sam added.

"Okay," Darcy said. "That's good." It still didn't answer what was going on, but no weird Avengering-related injuries was always something to celebrate. The next part was harder, but she was here to find out, so she metaphorically pulled up her big girl panties and got on with it. "Um, so, I'm--if I did something--"

"What?" Sam said. "No--"

"You basically stopped talking to me," Darcy said, forcing her tone to stay level.

"Okay, so I'm an idiot," Sam said. "We knew this before, but now, it's--" He shook his head and then held out his hand until Darcy put her own in it. "So, now I'm really an idiot because this has nothing to do with you."

His eyes were clear and steady, open and--Darcy almost couldn't admit it, even to herself--loving. He reached out carefully with his other hand, tracing his thumb over her cheekbone, sliding his hand into her hair and pulling her close for another sweet, careful kiss.

"I'm sorry," he breathed. "Sorry, sorry."

Darcy couldn't help the quick, hot tears that flooded her eyes; no matter how many times she'd told herself that Sam wasn't the kind of guy to ghost someone, she couldn't quite bring herself to believe that this time, she'd picked the right guy. Hearing him say it out loud, for real, in that voice she already knew she could trust was such a relief she almost couldn't breathe. She reached up and cupped his jaw and then let him draw her in so she could get her arms around him.

They stood there for what seemed like a really long time, but Sam wasn't restless at all and Darcy could feel all the stress slowly oozing away, so she sure as hell wasn't stepping away from him.

Well, not all the stress: something was clearly Not Right, but at least she felt like she could get a grip on it and maybe help deal with it. To that end, she gathered up the shreds of a good attitude until she could tip her head back and narrow her eyes.

"Yeah, well, I'm really, super-glad it's not me, but it's something and you don't have to tell me, but you should probably tell someone."

"I should," Sam agreed. "You'd think I'd know better--and I do--but…"

"Asking for help is hard," Darcy said. "'Specially for you hero-types."

"That seems like a cop out," Sam sighed.

"It's a statement of fact," Darcy answered. "A cop-out would be telling me you were fine and handling it all."

"Wrong on both counts," Sam murmured. Darcy tucked her head under his chin and hugged him hard.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I hate that you're all tangled up in whatever this is."

"It's," Sam sighed. "It's Riley, just the anniversary of everything that went down."

Darcy kept right on hugging. It didn't seem like much but she didn't know what else to do.

"Does it happen every year?" she asked after a bit, a little horrified to think he got torn up like this on a regular basis.

"A little," Sam admitted, his voice soft and so, so sad. Darcy held on tight. "Not like this, but yeah, every year."

"It's been a long year, this year," Darcy offered. "All the time in the hospital and all."

"Yeah," Sam sighed. "Yeah, it has."

"I'm just saying," Darcy murmured. "This year, it’s been a lot already. Physically."

"I'll call a guy I know tomorrow. Swear," Sam said.

"I'll hold your hand while you call," Darcy managed to say through the lump in her throat. He was such a good guy; she had no idea how she'd ended up with him. "If you want."

"I just might." Sam took a long, deep breath and let it out slowly. "I'll let you know."

It was a really nice moment, full of trust and forgiveness, so of course Darcy's stomach deciding to demand food with a really aggressive noise was how it needed to end.

"Wow," Sam said with an actual, crinkled-eye smile. "That was pretty impressive."

"You know how seriously I take my food; this can't be all that much of a surprise." Darcy somehow found the right tone to keep it all light and easy. Her face was a little warm, but she didn't think she was beet-red, mostly because it was such a relief to see Sam smile that the true mortification held off for another time.

"I do; it is not; and let's take care of it all," Sam said. Darcy started to tell him that she was fine and could deal with it herself, but somehow her brain got the reminder to her mouth about how Sam liked to take care of people and she ended up actually not stomping all over that need, yay her. She was beginning to think she was going to make it through this whole relationship thing successfully this time, and not a moment too soon.

"C'mon," Sam said, having pulled on a t-shirt and some sweatpants and looking a little more with-it. "There's no telling what's in that fridge, but I can definitely feed you up."

Darcy took his hand for the short walk down the hall to the common area and didn't even feel silly about it for so much as a second. She had to let go when they got to the kitchen, but she settled herself on the counter while Sam clashed around pulling out skillets and eggs and muttering darkly about people shoving leftovers into the back of the fridge and leaving it all to turn into a science experiment.

Steve stuck his head around the corner in the middle of the tirade and Sam waved him over without so much as a word out of place. "You might as well come and eat, too," he said, cracking eggs smoothly into a bowl. "No sense you sneaking in here an hour from now and overcooking the extra eggs you know I'm fixing now."

Steve arched an eyebrow at Darcy, who answered the unspoken question with a semi-discreet thumbs-up. Sam snorted.

"I'm standing right here and the two of y'all are shit at being sneaky."

"It's good seeing you out of your room," Steve said mildly as he leaned against the counter next to where Darcy was sitting.

"Yeah, yeah," Sam muttered, but Darcy didn't think he looked like he was really annoyed. When he went rummaging through the refrigerator for onions and peppers and cheese to jazz up the eggs, she knew he was fine with her coming up and pushing the issue. And she already knew he didn't hold a grudge, so she was definitely going to tell Jane she'd been right about it all.

Steve insisted on doing the dishes and wouldn't let Darcy help, so it wasn't very late when she and Sam ended up back in his room. She was still exhausted though, and Sam didn't look much livelier.

"I hate to be boring, but… sleep?" Darcy said. "I'm totally good with the couch."

"Sleep is good," Sam answered. "And it's a pretty big bed."

She knew what he was saying, that it was still okay by him for them to just sleep together, no sex involved; and maybe it was just all the horrible scenarios she'd been spinning for weeks now, but the last hesitation she'd been harboring about sex didn't seem to be lurking around there anymore. Whatever her stupid brain thought, she was pretty sure she and Sam could deal with it. She thought about it, poked at a few corners of her brain, but nothing looked like it was lying in wait to jump out and trip her up about the whole subject.

Before she could second- (and third- and fourth-) guess her thought processes, she tucked herself up under Sam's arm and said, "I can absolutely sleep in your bed, but it doesn't have to be just that." She could feel Sam looking down at her, and it was surprisingly easy to tip her head back and meet his eyes. "I mean it," she added.

"I believe you," Sam murmured, leaning down to kiss her slowly--and not nearly as sweetly as he had earlier. It was just the one kiss, though, and then he stopped. "I think I'm gonna need to ask for a rain check, though. I am… seriously off my game, here."

"Of course," Darcy said, and she really meant that, too, and it wasn't feeling like she'd dodged a bullet. If he needed time, she wanted him to have it, just like he'd done for her. She cuddled closer.

"You sure?"

"Absolutely."

"'Kay," Sam said, a huge yawn overtaking him. "I just figure we've waited this long, we can hang on until I can put some proper thought and effort into it."

Something about how he said all that made Darcy almost shiver. Sam always paid attention to things and the thought of her (in bed) being the object of all that attention was definitely something to think about. When she looked up again, Sam was smiling that half-smile of his at her, the one she loved, and then he traced his thumb over her bottom lip and she really did shiver.

"Yeah," Sam said, his voice low and rough, "Definitely gonna be thinking about that."

Darcy managed to dredge up a little attitude of her own, at least enough to say, "I'm gonna hold you to that, so you better not do anything stupid out with the team before you do."

"Swear," Sam said, and for a second, Darcy thought he might just be ready to forget about what he'd just said--which she would be totally on-board with, for the record--but then he yawned again and the mood was, well, not broken, but at least semi-derailed.

"Bed," Darcy said firmly. "Sleep."

"Yeah," Sam sighed. "Probably the best idea."

Darcy hadn't brought anything but the basics, but it didn't matter at all that she was wearing an old Culver t-shirt and leggings to sleep in. She actually thought it wouldn't have mattered even if they had decided to have sex. Stuff like having sexy nighties and the perfect, inviting thing to say didn't ever seem to matter with Sam. He was real and solid and didn't play games, and Darcy was even gladder than ever that she'd made the trip north.

"Thanks for not dumping my sorry ass," Sam said as he cuddled her close.

"You're welcome," Darcy whispered back. "Thanks for not telling me to go away and stop bothering you." She tucked his arm around her more firmly. "Also, it's a nice ass; quit insulting it."

"Ma'am; yes, ma'am," Sam said, and Darcy really, truly loved hearing the thread of laughter under the words. She hmpf'd, but didn't move away.

It took them a long time to fall asleep, but Darcy wasn't bothered by that at all, and she was pretty sure Sam felt the same.