Chapter Text
Darcy Lewis hated confrontation. Any sign of discord or tension brewing and she would feel compelled to crack a lame joke, embarrass herself, and back away slowly from the situation with both hands metaphorically raised in surrender. Or, if that wasn’t possible, ramble endlessly on and on until the situation cooled itself off. Her fight or flight instinct was basically all flight. Which was probably a good thing at this point in her life since she was predominantly surrounded by people that could END her with very little effort expended on their part. Well, and Jane with her tiny little bird arms (and surprisingly sharp fingernails), but she didn’t count because she signed Darcy’s paychecks and fighting with the boss could reflect poorly on her bank account.
Even since jumping -blindly- onto the Avengers bandwagon with her pint-sized leader, she’s steered clear of the fray, assisting Jane in running mission support for the team and staying as firmly behind the scenes as humanly possible. Occasionally, she left the office safely nestled in Stark Tower to set up shop on location for the trickier, more hush-hush missions, though she was never without backup. Generally, people accepted the fact that Darcy was not a fighter and acted accordingly.
But there was something about Sergeant James Barnes that made Darcy go completely against her nature. They first met during one of her biweekly training sessions with Natasha. The Black Widow had showed up in Darcy and Jane’s shared office one day, wordlessly slapped the cheese danish out of Darcy’s hand, and curtly informed her that she would be in charge of her new training regimen starting now. While originally upset, because hey! that particular pastry had set her back eight bucks at Starbucks that morning, Darcy quickly figured out this was Natasha’s own (weird and very scary) way of letting Darcy know that she cared if she lived or died, just in case. And if her clothes fit better as a side-effect, she wasn’t going to complain. The only real problem with the Black Widow being your physical trainer was that she was a busy person. When the call came in, Natasha had to answer, often leaving Darcy in the temporary hands of Barton or Rogers (both of whom went a lot easier on the flailing young newbie). Natasha had never led Darcy astray before, but when she showed up in the gym with a stony-faced, metal-arm wielding former Winter Soldier and broke the news that he would be taking over the sessions indefinitely while the Black Widow went under deep cover, Darcy was dubious.
“You’re leaving me with him?” Darcy whispered, both pulling Natasha aside and keeping her distance from the strange man. She heard enough stories around the tower to be a little on edge. The Winter Soldier’s recovery had been a bumpy road, to put it lightly. It didn’t help that they lived on the same floor and he never said two words to her, despite Darcy’s best attempts to be friendly.
“Who do you think trained me?” Natasha replied with a knowing, concerned smile. “I couldn’t be leaving you in more capable hands, Darce. Trust me?”
Darcy nodded without hesitation. She and Natasha had developed a rapport. Darcy felt safe under her direction, knew that she could count on the other woman as both a mentor and friend. She could only hope she knew what she was doing, leaving her at the mercy of James Barnes. Steve was really the only one that ever called him Bucky. The name sounded too irreverent for such a figure to everyone else.
“Steve unavailable?” Darcy’s voice sounded small in her own ears and she grimaced. But she was curious as to why Natasha went in such a serious direction regarding her training. Steve was gentle, encouraging and let her eat whatever she wanted, in moderation. Barnes, though his best friend, looked hard and would probably make her eat rocks and rusty nails for breakfast, while running twenty miles uphill every day with a Gatling gun strapped to her back. There was no way he had any other morning routine, looking like he did.
“Steve babies you. James wont.” And with that rather ominous statement, Natasha turned gracefully on her heel and stalked out of the gym, the door swooshing shut loudly behind her. Darcy felt like a lamb cornered by a wolf.
All he did was stand there and glare at her for a good chunk of time. Like he was sizing her up. Darcy squirmed, feeling the need to bolt well up inside her. Then James just laughed, loud and rough and clapped her roughly on the back with his human hand.
“Don’t look so grim, sweetheart. I’ll go easy on you… for today.”
To James Barnes “easy” apparently meant grueling and filled with back-handed compliments and thinly veiled threats of violence if she didn’t run faster, kick higher, keep herself together better. Darcy was equal parts sweaty and silently furious by lunch time. And the fun didn’t stop there. He followed her to the commissary, not trusting her to buy the right food and sat quietly beside her to make sure she ate each and every bite of the high protein, painfully bland meal. It was embarrassing and it was overkill to the extreme. She was a grown woman for crying out loud. She could handle something as simple as lunch.
About ten minutes in, Jane wandered over with a tray of two banana nut muffins and a bowl of soup, her face so far into a textbook that she didn’t even notice the extra presence at their usual table until she turned to ask Darcy for change for the soda machine and wound up face to face with Bucky Barnes.
“You’re not my- Darcy…” Jane started, her face coloring.
“Clearly,” he smirked back, looking slightly deranged. The man obviously enjoyed the discomfort of others.
“Yeah, I’m on your right Doctor,” Darcy waved her hand in an “earth to Jane” fashion and smiled apologetically to her friend and boss. “Schwarzenegger over there is my new handler, apparently. It was Natasha’s idea, not mine. He doesn’t trust me to eat properly without his expertise, so-“she spread her arms like a brunette Vanna White, laying the situation out before Jane. James snorted into his disgusting glass of green mush and pushed Darcy’s own glass of the vile looking drink closer to her.
“Drink this,” he demanded, otherwise ignoring her previous comments.
“Save me,” she mouthed to Jane.
Jane just laughed, patted Darcy on the shoulder and went back to her reading.
Darcy was doomed.
Their trainer-trainee relationship was tumultuous at best. Which normally, wouldn’t have been too big of a deal if they didn’t have to see each other every single day. Outside the gym, they occupied the same floor in the tower with Steve and Jane (and Thor when planet-side). Tension was always palpable between the two, especially when off the clock.
In Darcy’s eyes, Barnes was a hard-ass and had a penchant for making her feel terrible about herself and her life choices. He nit-picked every little thing. Nothing Darcy ever did was good enough for him and it frustrated her to no end. He was rude. He was bossy, controlling, and cold. And worst of all, he made her cut out caffeine completely from her diet. As far as Darcy was concerned, James Barnes was a monster and it had nothing to do with the metal arm.
He had his qualms with her, or course. He saw her as soft, an easy target. She relied on words and other people to protect her and it was nearly impossible to break that habit. She just wouldn’t accept the fact that a bad guy with a gun wasn’t going to wait for her to say something witty or for Captain America to burst in and save the day. Bad guys shot first, questions be damned. Nothing he did seemed to get that through her thick skull. No matter how loud he yelled, how far he pushed her she didn’t get it. And he liked Darcy. He really did (no one else in the tower could make his old friend Steve more flustered than that woman and it secretly amused the hell out of him). And he didn’t want to see her end up on a slab because he failed to instill in her proper self-defense techniques.
Things came to a head one Saturday night when Jane was in a slump and Darcy wanted to take her out for bottomless margaritas and tapas. After wrangling Jane into something other than jeans and flannel and throwing on her own favorite twirly halter dress, Darcy was in the process of calling for a taxi when a shiny metal hand snatched her phone away from her ear and rudely hung up.
“Give it back, Barnes,” Darcy grumbled. Weeks’ worth of frustration and anger that was bubbling just under the surface threatened to spill out all over the place. She had earned a night off for fucks sake!
“Where do you think you're going, sweetheart?” he drawled, tilting his head mockingly to the side. He knew the pet name pissed her off and he told himself that it was only part of her training, to get her to channel the anger he saw her constantly choke down around him. But on the rare occasions when he was honest with himself, he knew he mostly did it to see her face flush a pleasing pink and her blue eyes widen in annoyance. For a man in his nineties, he might as well have been pulling her pigtails or kicking sand at the playground.
“It’s Saturday!” just managed to slip through her gritted teeth.
Jane lingered behind Darcy, keeping her distance from the pair. She had enough experience with dealing with them to know it was better to not interfere. Maybe she could slip back to her lab and continue the research she been forcefully dragged away from…
“I have got a calendar, but thanks for the heads up. And that doesn’t answer my question,” James flashed his teeth dangerously. But Darcy was having none of it. She reached the end of her rope about five minutes ago.
“I’m going out!” Darcy exclaimed throwing her arms up wildly. “Jane misses Thor and-“
“Don’t drag me into this,” Jane interrupted indignantly. “I was more than happy working.”
At that Darcy exploded into a frenzy of wild gestures and stamping feet. “Are you kidding me? Jane, you’ve been wearing the same clothes for THREE DAYS! Yesterday you forgot your own address! I am taking you out for everyone’s sanity. And don’t give me that fucking look, asshole. I am going out and I am going to drink sugary, alcoholic drinks and gorge myself on tapas and you can just deal with it!” She punctuated the last sentence with a daring glare at James.
“You think you can win this little game?” he asked quietly, remaining calm despite his clenched fists and blood boiling.
“Nope. Game’s over! I am done with you. I’m done with eating boiled chicken and drinking pond scum and busting my ass trying to keep up with your insane rules. I’M FUCKING DONE!”
“What’s the problem?” a new no-nonsense voice had entered the room.
The shouting had brought Steve out from his room, along with a disheveled and frustrated looking Sharon Carter. They both stopped short, mouths agape when they realized it was Darcy making all the noise. James barked out a laugh and he just looked so pleased with himself, so fucking smug, that Darcy couldn’t stop herself. She put one foot forward, cocked back and put all her momentum into punching the bastard square in the nose. Just like he taught her.
The room went dead silent. Not even Sharon, who generally liked seeing Barnes in pain, so much as gasped. Steve looked like he wanted to step in, limbs tense and ready, but James waved him off. He brought his flesh hand to his face and it came away covered in blood. Darcy was shaking both in pain and anger, but she remained tight lipped and sickly proud that she drew blood. A pale, worried Jane hovered over her shoulder and bounced on her toes in anxiety. James broke the long silence with a wet, muffled laugh.
“No problem here, Cap. My girl is just finally standing up for herself.” He tried wiped some blood away with his sleeve and wound up just kind of smearing it all over his neck and chin. It didn’t seem to faze him one bit that she had clocked him. “How’s that hand feeling, sweetheart?”
Darcy couldn’t answer. She was so mad that every word clumped up in her throat and threatened to choke her. She’d never hit anyone like that before. Never even thought herself capable of it. She thought maybe she’d feel better after, but she still could feel the angry energy thrumming under her skin.
“Darcy?” Jane whispered, touching her friends shoulder. She could feel how tense the muscles were and proceeded with caution. “Are you okay?”
Jane’s quiet voice broke through the veil and Darcy turned to face her, feeling guilty for upsetting her friend. She was only trying to help her out in the first place. Tonight wasn’t supposed to go like this. “Sorry,” she croaked out.
Satisfied that Darcy had started to mellow out, Jane gently grabbed her wrist and examined Darcy’s hand. It was just starting to turn pink and a little puffy, and it throbbed like a bitch when Jane let it go. “Shut up, that was kinda amazing. You looked like some fierce Amazon woman. I’ve never seen you like that, Darce. Your hand might be tad worse for wear though. I mean sorry about your face and everything, Barnes, but wow.”
Darcy actually smiled a little before James took his turn to examine her hand with his cold metal fingers, making her grimace. He was decidedly less gentle than Jane.
“Ouch, fucker! A little warning might have been nice.”
That made James grin broadly again as he guided her in trying to flex her fingers. They didn’t seem to want to move. “Let’s get some ice on this and take you down to the infirmary for x-rays. I think you might have broken it.”
“Hold on,” Steve finally spoke up, using his Captain Voice and everything. “Bucky, you wanted her to punch you, didn’t you?”
“I knew she had it in her somewhere. It’s worth a little bloodshed to show her what she’s capable of,” he sounded like a proud parent gushing about his kid making the honor roll, instead of a former assassin bragging about provoking a young woman to break her hand on his face. Darcy yanked her hand from him, regretting it immediately when hot barbs of pain shot up her arm. Tears sprung up in her eyes, but she ignored them.
“You wanted me to punch you? Are you a fucking psychopath!? I hurt myself!” Darcy was back to the screaming and foot stomping. James brought his hands up in a placating gesture.
“I didn’t expect you to actually hit me, Darcy, but essentially yes. By the way, good form, but next time try to align your first two knuckles with the bones in your arm like this-“he grabbed her uninjured hand in his metal one and arranged her fist just so. Darcy let him for a moment because her hand fucking hurt and learning the correct way to punch might help that to never happen again. But as soon as she got the arrangement of her knuckles right, she snatched her hand away.
“You are a psychopath.”
“Maybe, but when I first met you, you would barely raise your voice over a whisper and now you scream like a banshee and hit like one too. I’d call that progress!” he beamed back at her. The whole pride thing was starting to creep her out. She was relieved when Steve stepped up and grabbed James by the shoulders.
“Was it really necessary though, all the mind games? Couldn’t you have just-“ James cut his friend off with a snarl and a glare.
“Damn right it was necessary. Darcy is a target, Steve. She’s been one since the second she stepped foot in this tower and I have to make sure she can take care of herself! If that means she gets a little banged up in the process, I don’t give a shit. At least she has a chance to survive now.” An eeriness crept over James’ features, making him look more like the Winter Soldier than Bucky Barnes.
Not for the first time, Darcy found herself thinking about his life as the Winter Soldier. What he had to have gone through to become this dark, twisted man that stood like a fierce statue, glaring daggers at his best (only) friend in the world, a hollow shell of what he used to be. She could only imagine the horrors he’d seen and caused. Her heart felt too small at the thought that he, this man that she thought cared about nothing, cared enough about her well-being to prepare her for the worst. To become the worst for her. She finally realized why Natasha chose Bucky to take over for her. Tears threatened to spill again, but for a whole different reason.
“Thank you,” she said softly to Bucky, bringing him back to himself. “I’m sorry I punched you, I didn’t know-“a sob escaped her throat and the whole damn broke. Tears leaked out despite her best efforts and the whole situation finally overwhelmed her.
“Shh sweetheart, don’t cry. I’m to one that should be sorry. I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard. Sometimes I forget-“ he trailed off as Darcy continued to cry, her whole frame shaking with the force of her sobs. James looked positively lost. “C’mere.” And he shocked everyone (including himself) when he threw his arms wide and enveloped Darcy in the bloodiest, most earth-shattering hug she’d ever had.
Sharon cleared her throat loudly when the embrace seemed like it wasn’t going to end any time soon. “This is touching and all, but you’re bleeding all over the carpet.”
Darcy startled, pulling back to look at James fully. His nose was still steadily streaming blood, which had run in rivers down her arm (thankfully clear of her dress) and off her elbow to drip onto the foyer’s pristine cream colored carpet during their hug. Her heart shrank again when she realized he must be in a lot of pain (or at least uncomfortable, she was unsure how his version of superhero steroids worked exactly), but was more concerned with her than himself. She sniffed and brushed the tear tracks off her cheeks.
“Let’s get you cleaned up. I really made a mess of your face.”
“Oh no, you’re going straight downstairs to get that hand looked at. Steve can clean up this moron. The two of them heal themselves like freaking video game characters,” Sharon said, already with her hand curled around Darcy’s good arm and gently pressuring her to follow her lead.
Darcy gave in, too tired and emotionally stretched out to make any argument. Sharon gave Steve a quick peck on the cheek, sent another glare Bucky’s way, and lead Darcy with Jane in tow to the elevator.
Later that night, the three woman reappeared to their floor to find one of Stark’s robots scrubbing at the stain in the carpet and the two soldiers watching (and correcting the inaccuracies of) Diehard in the shared living area. An unbloodied James stood up when they stepped off the elevator and sought Darcy’s gaze, but was alarmed to find her supported between Sharon and Jane. One ditzy smile from the patient though was all it took for him to relax for the first time that night.
“She’s fine, just blissed out,” Sharon explained, helping Darcy to the couch.
Her hand turned out to indeed be broken and now wrapped in a soft splint until the swelling went down enough for an actual hard cast. The on-call doctor had given her some pretty strong pain killers though, so Darcy wasn’t feeling anything. Unless fluffy was a feeling. She felt fluffy.
James sat back down next to her as she slumped down unto the cushions. “How ya doing, sweetheart?” he asked gently. Darcy chose to answer by snuggling into his side and sighing contentedly.
“Yeah, she’s kind of a cuddly drunk. Figures she’d be the same stoned,” Jane explained, bending down to take off Darcy’s shoes so she could get more comfortable. She rarely ever got the chance to take care of Darcy for a change and didn’t want to pass up the opportunity to pay her friend back for all she did.
“You’re the stoned one, Jane,” Darcy mumbled, her face squished up against James’ chest. She then mimed taking a giant toke of a joint and pretended to pass it to Steve. Jane turned an impressive color of red.
“It was one time! And I had just saved the fucking UNIVERSE so I think I’m excused for… indulging,” Jane grumbled, but still looked fondly down at the strange way Darcy had contorted herself into James’ space while keeping her bandaged arm raised comically above her head.
“I helped a little. So did Thor, and no-pants and Intern Lad and-“ Darcy yawned, “mew-mew.”
Jane laughed so hard she snorted. “Yeah, Darce. You were a lot of help. I couldn’t have done it without you,” she admitted, leaning down to give her best friend an awkward hug. She knew it shouldn’t have to take Darcy breaking her hand, having a meltdown and being high off prescription drugs to say it, but Jane was glad to let her know just how much she meant to her. To the whole universe.
“Love you too, Boss Lady.”
“Okay, it’s time you got to bed, Darcy. You’re going to be hurting in the morning,” James stated, breaking up the little impromptu love-fest. He gave Darcy a little shake and she groaned dramatically.
“He’s so bossy. Has he always been this way Steve-O?”
Steve smiled back at the odd pair. “He’s always been a bit of a mother hen. Always making sure I took my medicine and saving my skinny butt from fights. “He had that fond glint in his eye that meant he was romanticizing the past again. His nostalgia seemed to be contagious, and for a minute James got the same look in his normally steely eyes.
“Someone had to do it, punk.”
“Not to ruin this touching moment between two old fogeys, but it’s one in the morning and I have to get to work in seven hours. I’m going to bed,” Sharon managed to say between yawns and stretching her back. “Goodnight, all. I hope you feel better soon, Darcy.”
Steve gave Bucky another fond smile before standing up and turning off the TV. “I should go too. She gets mad when I come to bed late. Says I make too much noise,” he teased, wrapping his arm around his girlfriend and pulling her close to his side in a rare display of affection. Normally, Sharon was twitchy about embracing in public, but she was too tired to really care.
“Goodnight,” Jane and James chimed together. Darcy waved her good hand at the couple without lifting her heavy head. They repeated the sentiment and made their way back to their room.
“Well, I better get to bed too. Thor is coming back Monday and I want to spend tomorrow cleaning the room. I may have gotten too used to living by myself again.” Jane hesitated for a second before planting a soft kiss to the top of Darcy’s head. “Will you get her to bed? I can’t carry her myself.”
“Sure,” he replied, feeling tired himself. Darcy turned a little to look out at Jane.
“Night, Jane,” she slurred, sounding vaguely like she was talking around a mouthful of marbles.
“Goodnight, Darcy. I’ll be right across the hall if you need anything. Just yell, okay?”
“Okay,” Darcy repeated and just like that they were alone for the first time all night. Darcy made a cute little moan while she stretched and cuddled deeper into James’ side, and he couldn’t stop himself from wrapping his arms around her and breathing in the sweet smell of her hair. He didn’t want to take advantage of her less than conscious state, but she just felt so soft and warm against him. And that’s how he knew he was in deep trouble.
“This is nice,” Darcy sighed, bringing James back to the reality. He really needed to get her to bed before either of them did or said anything they’d regret by sunrise.
“Come on, Dopey. Bed time. “He untangled himself and stood up. Darcy whimpered at the loss of her new favorite body pillow.
“Bucky,” she whined, unwittingly using that name for the first time out loud. He froze, his palm suddenly sweaty. He found he liked the thought of her calling him that. Being around her made him want to be Bucky again and not just so Steve would stop looking at him like a kicked puppy. He wanted to be that confident, suave young man that knew how to show a dame a good time. Darcy deserved someone like that. And he didn’t mind trying.
“Bed,” he repeated, trying to sound at least a little stern, but failing. What the hell was she doing to him?
“Come here,” she said, reaching for him with her uninjured arm. He sank back down into her touch against his will. She combed her fingers through his hair and sighed again.
“My hero,” she whispered and clumsily booped his nose. Despite her adorable inebriation, James scowled.
“I broke your hand, Darce. I’m no hero.” It physically hurt, her calling him a hero, like a punch to the gut. Darcy frowned and petted his head again.
“No, Silly. You were saving me,” she wasn’t making any sense, but all of a sudden it didn’t matter because her lips were on his and he was kissing her and everything was perfect. As far as kisses went, it was chaste. A simple touch of lips, dry, closed mouthed and sweet. Too little and too much at the same time. He shifted her gently onto his lap and delved deeper, encouraging her to move with him.
A tiny moan from the back of Darcy's throat made him shiver, and he forced himself to pull away. He didn't deserve this, her. A dark voice in his head reminded him that she probably wouldn't remember this in the morning. That she was his for the taking. And the worst part was that large part of him wanted to listen. An impatient hand brought his face back towards Darcy's and away from the thoughts plaguing him. He was going to hell for this for sure. She clung to him like a sloth to a tree as he stood and carried her towards her rooms, not breaking the lazy press of their lips.
But, ultimately, Bucky decided not to give in.
It took every ounce of resolve he had to leave her nestled, alone in her obnoxiously colorful bed. Once she was comfortable, her eyes finally fluttering shut, James turned out the lights and quietly closed the door behind him. As he made his way to his own rooms, he felt a warm tug in his chest like he was free-falling right before hitting the ground hard, some how strange and familiar all at once. He didn't like it one bit.
----