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“Doll?” Bucky called from the door of Darcy’s apartment. “You in here?” The door had sprung open of its own volition when he approached. He’d instantly regretted not carrying weapons while he was in the tower.
“Mmmmph,” came a reply from the back of the small apartment. Bucky’s heart raced as he dashed through the short hallway to Darcy’s room, picking up her large cast iron frying pan when he passed the kitchen. He wasn’t sure how someone had gotten past security, but if they harmed Darcy they would surely regret it.
Bucky came to a stuttering halt when he got to the threshold of Darcy’s room. She was laying in bed, back propped up on rolled towels with a pillow over her face. Something was odd about the picture, but he couldn’t quite place it. No one else was in the room. “Darce?” he asked as he quietly set down the frying pan hopeful that Darcy wouldn’t find out how quickly he’d jumped into danger mode. “You okay?”
“I’m so far from okay that I’m not even sure what it means anymore,” she said as she shoved the pillow aside to look up at Bucky. He was at her side in an instant, carefully propping himself on the edge of the bed as he took her hand.
“What’s wrong?” his thumb stroked soothing circles on the back of her hand.
“I was carrying the doohicky for Jane and I stepped wrong or something. I threw out my back.” That was when Bucky noticed how completely still she was and the unsettled feeling he’d had since he spotted her moments ago settled. Darcy not moving was rare- even in sleep she tossed and turned, never quite settling - she must be in pain if she was able to fight off her natural tendencies to fidget.
“Where does it hurt?” Bucky asked her as he stood from the bed and removed his shoes.
“Right above my butt,” Darcy grimaced. “Anytime I move at all there’s a twinging pain. I lost my breath four times just getting back to my room.”
Bucky sighed, “There a reason you didn’t call me for help?” he asked, exasperated, before deciding he had bigger fish to fry at the moment. “Don’t answer that, we’ll come back to it later. Turn over for me, Doll.”
Darcy started to laugh before realizing that the muscles she used for laughter were fairly close to those she had injured and it was just painful. The laughter quickly turned into a long, low moan. “I don’t think I can,” she finally said as tears beaded up in her eyes.
“Sure you can,” Bucky argued, “I’ll just have to help you.” He approached her with his arms out, one coming to rest at her shoulder as the other moved to her hip. He pushed gently, shifting her body up and over so that she was laying on her stomach.
“Oh, fuck,” Darcy groaned, “This hurts so bad.”
“I know, Doll. Just give me a few minutes, okay?” Even as he spoke he was kneeling up on the bed, coming to straddle her thighs and pushing her shirt up her body. His hands came to rest against the small of her back, touching more gently than she would have guessed possible for the former assassin. He moved his thumbs in slow, deep circles over her muscles, “This about where it hurts?”
“Mmmhmmm,” came Darcy’s muffled reply. She took a gasping breath as his hands rubbed at a particularly tender spot, working over the muscle that she’d strained with practiced ease. As the minutes passed it got easier for Darcy to breathe, the pain lessening just enough that she felt like she could talk at least. “Where’d you learn how to give a massage and how come I am only learning about it now?”
The corner of Bucky’s mouth ticked up in a grin, “Wouldn’t do for a Russian assassin to go traipsing into a hospital with an injury, would it? Had to learn it before working with Natalia and the Red Room just in case something happened to my partner while we were out in the field. Gotta say, Doll, it’s about the only good thing those fuckers taught me.”
Darcy felt like a puddle of goo. Her back muscles had finally stopped spasming, Bucky’s hands continued their practiced movements up and down her spine. “I certainly won’t complain,” she smiled as she turned her head to look at him over her shoulder, something she certainly wouldn’t have attempted before he’d started.
“You feeling better?” he asked, one eyebrow raised as his hands reached around her rib cage to rub at the sides of her body.
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I want you to stop,” Darcy admitted.
“One benefit of this metal arm,” Bucky commented, “Is that I could do this forever.”
“Would you?” Darcy asked, though her question was interrupted by a grumbling in her stomach. “Whoops,” she continued, “I maybe didn’t eat anything for lunch.”
“Darcy.”
“What?! I was in pain!” she exclaimed as she rolled herself over on the bed. She winced a little, her muscles still tired and sore, but she had more range of motion than she’d had in hours and she wasn’t about to take it for granted. “Come on,” she smiled as she looked at him, “That frying pan works better for grilled cheese than it does for intruders.”