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Darcy has a birthmark on her lower back. A small, irregular oval-shaped spot right in between the dimples that mark where her hips flare out from her small waist. It’s dark, a fine burgundy color that stands out starkly against her pale skin and reminds him of rich, red wine and sweet, dark cherries. Bucky can’t help but wonder if the spot tastes as sweet as it looks.
He mistakes it for a tattoo at the first, brief glimpse; the contrast is so startling that in the moment he can’t fathom it being natural. But when it’s over, after his heart stops pounding and he tenuously accepts the fact that this near perfect woman is lying naked and content in his bed, he has the opportunity to explore the smooth expanse of her back as she rests on her stomach and he finds it just as much a part of her as the freckles that scatter across her back like tiny stars or the baby-fine hairs on the back of her neck that stand on end when he teases his hands up her sides. .
She wrinkles her nose at him when she feels his fingers linger on the mark and he smiles down at her, letting the blunt edge of his nail trace its perimeter. “What?” he asks, his voice soft and low to match the moment.
Spoken into the pillow as she hides her face, squirming under his fingertips - “It’s ugly.”
Bucky frowns. She might as well have replied in some ancient, alien language because the word 'ugly' didn’t exist in his world when it was just the two of them, and most certainly not to describe anything about her. “It’s not,” he says emphatically. “It’s fascinating.”
One bright, blue eye lifts from the pillow and peaks at him, lid narrowed. “Psh, fascinating.” She waves her hand dismissively and rolls over onto her side. Bucky’s hand slides heavily from where he was still idly tracing her birthmark and comes to rest instead on her bare hip.
“Fine. Tantalizing, then.” Darcy’s face scrunches up again and he laughs, dragging his hand up her body to sweep a stray lock of her messy hair off her forehead. “You really don’t like it?”
“No? I don’t know. I'm not embarrassed by it, but I do tend to keep it covered up. My mom thinks it’s cute and calls it my ‘strawberry’ but…” she exhales gustily and shuffles closer until he gets the idea and wraps his arms around her, pulling her into his chest. She abandons that thought and starts another one, her breath ghosting across his skin as she speaks. “Also, people poke it a lot. It’s annoying.”
“People poke you?” Bucky’s arms tighten around her. He doesn’t like the thought of people jabbing their unwanted fingers anywhere on Darcy’s body, but he suddenly feels very protective of that one small, soft, vivid patch of skin of her back.
“Kinda messed up, right? I guess it is sort of button-shaped and unexpected or something, but almost universally, people’s first instinct when they see it for the first time it to fucking poke it.”
“I think my first instinct was to lick it. Is that worse?”
Darcy laughs and the sweet sound makes his heart full. “It’s definitely weirder.”
“Why weird? I bet it’s sweet, your ‘strawberry.’ Every other part of you is.” He shrugs.
She wriggles up in his arms until her face is level with his. Her eyes are soft and sparkling, and she bites her bottom lip before gracing him with a radiant smile. “You really are nothing like I expected.”
He’s so entranced by her that the words take a moment to register. His stomach knots for a split second before he rationalizes that if she’s smiling so tenderly at him, they can’t possibly imply anything bad. Still - “How do you mean?”
“You’re normally so tense, or intense I guess. And I can understand that, but then you let down some of those walls and I find out that you’re just so sweet. And gentle. ” A small hand reaches up and smooths back some of his shaggy hair; the long nails dragging against his scalp almost instantly make him drowsy. He closes his eyes as Darcy continues. “It’s a very pleasant surprise. I don’t think I’ve felt butterflies in my stomach like this in a long time.”
She finishes her thoughts by pressing a kiss to Bucky’s lips, which he lazily returns until she breaks away to leave a warm trail of soft, little kisses across his face and stubbled jaw. It tickles, but he doesn’t have the energy to laugh or do anything more than roll onto his back, his arms readjusting them until she cuddles into his chest again. Darcy settles down and he hears her try and fail to stifle a yawn.
“Butterflies, huh?” It comes out as more of a throaty rumble than actual words, but she seems to understand as her head nods against his chest, making her already tangled hair even more of a mess.
“Mmhm, like a butt-ton of ‘em.”
“Sounds vaguely unpleasant.” He's really starting to doze now and he doesn’t want to their conversation to end, but he’s knows that he can't fight sleep much longer with his brain flooded with dopamine and Darcy’s warm, naked body snuggled in his arms.
She hums in response and the last thing he hears before fully nodding off is, whispered - “It’s actually the best though.”