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"You’re apologizing to her."
James is adamant on this. Steve has felt five kinds of guilty for the way he reacted to the affair, but he hasn’t yet gotten around to apologizing to Darcy.
So here he stands, at the door to Darcy’s office. Her assistant, a sweet girl by the name of Cleo, has already waved him through, he just hasn’t brought himself to knock yet.
"Cleo?" The intercom on her desk crackles to life, and Cleo scrambles to answer it as Steve turns to listen.
"Yes, Darcy?" She asks, pen and notepad ready.
"Tell Steve to either come in or stop loitering in my doorway." The intercom clicks off, and Cleo shrugs helplessly at Steve. He sighs and lets himself in.
"Make it quick, I have things to do, you have an appearance at the children’s hospital at three." She doesn’t look up from her computer, but he notices the way she tenses at his appearance. Steve takes a seat opposite her, but waits until Darcy has looked up before he starts to talk.
"Bucky told me I need to apologize—"
"Wow, Steve, sound any more cut up about it. Please.” There’s a pencil twirling in her fingers, and he knows she would happily stab him with it if he missteps.
He’s seen her practising with Natasha.
"And I realized that he was right." He continues talking as if she hadn’t interrupted, leaning forward and resting his arms on his knees. "I could have conducted myself better when I found out, worded my statements better—"
"You mean ‘Sorry for calling you a slut so openly and thinking that you were corrupting James, I should’ve worded it so that the insult was more hidden?’" The pencil is abandoned, and she glares at him full on now. "Get the fuck out, Steve. Come back when you’re actually sorry.”
"Darcy, you have to see my point of view—"
"—No, Steve, you have to see mine!" She snaps, hand slamming down on the desk as she stands and paces angrily. "Ian was a fucking prick. He would tell me I wasn’t worthy enough to run around with superheroes. He insulted you all on numerous occasions. We argued every second night."
Steve is silent, letting her rant, feeling an inch high as she lists all the faults of her relationship.
"And every time he argued, I would get angry, and upset, and feel absolutely worthless, Steve. Useless. So I would go to the one person that made me feel wanted.
We didn’t just fuck. We would talk, watch movies together, have dinner and laugh at stupid stories. James’d calm me down and tell me all the reasons Ian was wrong. I’d hold him when he woke from a nightmare feeling scared and weak and I’d stay up all night so he’d feel safe enough to sleep. Tell me, Steve, which relationship sounds better?”
Steve’s quiet as she swipes her hand angrily across her cheeks, pushing the tears away as he contemplates the new information, lets it sink in.
And he feels like a fool.
She wasn’t wrecking the progress Bucky had made. She was helping him.
"And yes, I know I should’ve broken it off with Ian, but it’s not that easy! He’d followed me from London and I felt obligated—”
She’s stopped from saying anymore, because Steve has shot out of his seat and wrapped his arms around her, and she clutches his shirt and buries her face in his chest, trying to stem the flow of tears.
"I’m sorry, Darcy. I’m so sorry." And it’s genuine, honest. She was one of the first friends he had in this new world and he hurt her with his words, his outdated thinking, when she was already going through a tough time. "I’m sorry."
It takes a few moments for her tears to stop, even if her breath still hitches every now and then. Steve pulls away for a fraction of a second to grab a tissue from the box on her desk, gently wiping the makeup off her cheeks and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “How can I make it up to you?”
She shrugs, sighing heavily as she grabs another tissue and blows her nose. “Just… I don’t know. Put it in the past. Get along. You’re his best friend, I’m his… whatever. We have to get along with each other, right?”
"Right." He nods. They’re silent for a few moments before Darcy sighs again, visibly relaxing and pressing herself back against him for a hug.
"I missed your hugs." She mumbles into his shirt, and he laughs, rubbing circles soothingly into her back. They’re quiet for a few more moments before he speaks.
"Pizza?"
"Yeah. Let’s go."