Work Text:
Drip,
drip,
drip.
Grey dense clouds litter the horizon. The sun has yet to fully show its bright face, only peaks and streaks of pastel colors have started to announce its eventual arrival.
Drip,
drip,
drip.
Darcy sluggishly moves around the kitchen. An oversized Henley covers her frame, large purple fuzzy socks shield her feet from the cold floor.
Drip,
drip,
drip.
She pulls a blanket from the couch, wrapping it around her in hopes it might bring warmth and mental fortitude. Her body moves out of habit, not yet fully awake.
Drip,
drip,
drip.
She waits. Perfectly still. Patiently, impatient.
Drip,
drip,
drip.
A yawn rips from her, her face momentarily looking as fierce as a lioness. She retrieves two mugs. Hoping beyond hope that the addition of ceramic will encourage this process to speed up.
Drip,
drip,
drip.
“Jareth.” Darcy pouts. “Please.”
A steady drip,
drip,
drip,
the only reply to her desperate call.
A ruffle, a movement, a sound of… something… barely registers with her. Her focus solely on the ever constant, ever glacial: drip,
drip,
drip.
“You have no power over me.” Darcy whispers to her coffee maker. It’s slow drip, drip, drip taunting her in the early morning light.
“You sure about that, sugar?” Bucky asks, sliding up next to her, his thick wool socks allowing him to glide smoothly across the hard wood floors.
She noncommittally hums as she turns to him, wrapping her arms around him, nuzzling into his warmth.
“Darce. How long have you been up?”
“Long enough. But, not long enough.”
“I think we need a new Jareth.” Bucky chuckles, nodding to the old coffee machine.
“Nooo.” Darcy whines, sliding her cold hands under Bucky’s shirt. He squirms a little, muscles tensing and rippling as her cold digits move across the planes of his warm back.
“Darce, you’re too pathetic while you wait twice as long as you should, for half as good coffee.”
A flippant hmpft comes from below his chin, where Darcy’s tucked herself.
“You deserve better coffee, faster.” He strokes her hair, finger combing her wild bed head curls. “And that’s even coming from me…”
Darcy doesn’t respond, simply scrunching her face and pressing it closer to his chest.
“We’ll get you a new Jareth. A better Jareth. A…”
“A Ziggy Stardust?” Darcy asks, raising her head, eyes full of hope. “It needs to be bright red or electric blue.”
“Or maybe pearlescent white with a duo chrome shimmering glitter?”
A bright smile breaks across Darcy’s face as sunlight starts to sneak into the apartment in thick beams.
“I think we can exchange Jareth for Ziggy.”
“Such a compromise; I don’t know how you’ll survive, doll.”
“Maybe if you hold my hand the whole time.” Darcy rises to her toes, ghosting her lips over his. “And maybe if you carry it home for me. I might survive. But just maybe, just barely, I might.”
“Maybe?” He asks, eyes fluttering shut as he chases her lips.
“Maybe.” She confirms, sealing her lips to his, as warm sunlight filters over their faces.