Chapter Text
Steve had learned a lot of things in the seven years since Darcy had first crawled into bed with Bucky and him. He had learned that her favorite color was purple, and she loved ugly knit sweaters. You never let her wake up without having some form of coffee ready for her, even better if it was heavily sugared. He learned that everyone in the tower needed to sleep in some form of pajamas. The one exception being Thor, who still didn't see why. Her biggest guilty pleasure is trashy romance novels, but her favorite author is Agatha Christi. He learned that her laugh was his favorite thing about her, and that three people could fit into a relationship just as easily as two if you truly wanted it. That Steve's favorite thing to wake up to was the sight of Darcy and Bucky already in the throws of passion, and while most of the world frowned upon a relationship like Bucky, Darcy, and his, it was perfectly fine on Asgard. Also, that Thor could actually preform a bonding ceremony there. Steve also learned that night terrors were thankfully not hereditary, and that he would give anything not to see Darcy go through one ever again.
A few months into their relationship most of the Avengers had been called away on mission. They had left knowing that Darcy wasn't alone at the tower, but the mission had taken longer than expected. A miss-communication from the other tower residents meant that Darcy had been left alone for two nights.
The first night she had managed by consuming copious amounts of caffeine and staying up all night. Unfortunately, by nine the following evening the caffeine had run its course, and Darcy passed out in front of the TV in the communal lounge.
At midnight, Tony, Steve, Bucky, Rhodey, Vision, Wanda, Clint, and Sam were welcomed home to the sounds of Darcy's horse shrieking. When they found her, Darcy was cowering in the corner of a closet a kitchen knife held out in a weak defense to the villain only she could see. Her arms, legs, and feet were covered in scrapes and pin prick spots of blood from where she had cut herself on the the glass from the coffee table she broke in her sleep.
The memory still haunted Steve, which was why his leg was bouncing a mile a minute as the quin jet made it's way back to the tower.
This particular mission had required all the Avengers even the new recruits. Jane and Pepper had stayed behind with Darcy, but Jane was scheduled to speak at a science conference and had left three days ago. Pepper was still there until this afternoon when she had called to tell them that she had to fly out to deal with some emergency the London office was having.
When she called it didn't seem like such a big problem, they were going to be headed soon, and should have been back before the sunset. Some last minute issue, and bad weather had delayed their flight.
Bucky reached over to Steve and took his hand, giving it a tight squeeze, "I know. We'll be home soon," Bucky whispered to his husband.
"I know but . . . " Steve didn't really need to finish that sentence.
Ten minutes, they were home ten minutes later. It was also ten minutes after midnight. Neither of them ran back to their quarters of the tower, but it was a near thing.
The sight that greeted the men, was one of adorableness and tranquility. Darcy lay on their bed, her glasses on but askew, the light from the bedside table still on, as she had obviously been reading when she fell asleep. There four-year-old was star-fished out across Darcy's legs, and their two-year-old was snuggled up on top of Darcy, thumb half in his mouth.
The anxiety and fear fell off Steve and Bucky's shoulders at the sight. Bucky nudged Steve with his elbow, "That might be my favorite site in the world," he murmured with a soft smile.
"You and me both," Steve breathed back, kissing Bucky softly.
Steve took Darcy's glasses off her, folded them, and lay them on the nightstand, for semi-easy reach in the morning, while Bucky picked up The Cat Who Wore a Pot on Her Head, The Jolly Postman of Other People's Stories, But No Elephants, and 50 Below Zero.
"Four books tonight," Bucky commented with a yawn as the men changed into pajama bottoms as quietly as they could.
"It's always hard to get them to sleep when we're away," Steve remarked, as he dipped down into the bassinet that stood at the foot of their bed, where their three month old peacefully slept.
“What did my ma, always say about not disturbing sleeping babies?” Bucky whispered, as Steve scooped their small son into his arms, and snuggled him against his chest.
“You're one to talk,” Steve threw back, as Bucky picked up their four year old, and snuggled her against his own chest. She snuffled in her sleep, but didn't wake, as Bucky shifted into his side of the bed.
Steve slipped into the other side of the bed, turning off the light. As Bucky drifted off, Steve lay awake taking in the sight of his family.
Steve had learned a lot of things in the seven years since Darcy had first crawled into bed with Bucky and him. He had learned that Darcy preferred cats to dogs, but is allergic to both. That her favorite movie was Love, Actually. That she could speak both French and Italian, but couldn't pick up a word of Russian, no matter how hard Bucky and Nat tried. That love was not a finite thing, but that your heart grew to accommodate the people in your life. That the only thing scarier than the monsters he fought, was losing the people in this room. And tonight he learned that he didn't need to worry so much about night terrors.