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Chapter Text

2013

Darcy Lewis was a little nervous when on her second official day as an employee of Stark Industries, she was informed that Tony Stark wanted to see her in his workshop. How could she have done something wrong already? All she had been doing so far was setting up Jane’s equipment and organizing the new lab. Jane wouldn’t even be there for another week. She was spending some time with her mother in London before moving to New York City and getting down to business building an Einstein-Rosen Bridge for Stark.

Darcy had met Tony Stark a couple of times before through Thor and when he offered Jane funding for her research after the Dark Elves incident in London. From what she’d seen of him so far, she kind of liked him. If nothing else, they seemed to have a similar sense of humor. But she also got the feeling that he was pretty unpredictable, so she had no idea what was in store for her when she entered his workshop.

As it was, she found him sitting at one of the long work benches dressed in a t-shirt and jeans as he rummaged through a box in front of him.  

Darcy paused in the doorway and cleared her throat. “You wanted to see me, Mr. Stark?"

He looked up at her and pinned her with an assessing stare. It sort of wanted to make her squirm not because it was lascivious or anything creepy like that. It felt more like he was trying to figure out what kind of person she was, analyzing her intelligence and character. As if he could tell those things just by looking at a person, but who knows what kind of information he had access to about people between his fancy AI and SHIELD.

She raised an inquiring eyebrow and he broke into a grin. “Congratulations, Lewis. You’re going back in time.”

She gave a shocked laugh. That was not anything she was expecting to hear. “Sweet. I’ve always wanted a DeLorean.”

“You think I’m joking.” Tony nodded, but continued smiling. “Yeah, I thought it was a joke too when I got a delivery this morning from the Stark Industry archives. Apparently, your hire triggered some sort of contingency plan my dad had set up.”

“What? Did you get a telegram?” Darcy asked, expecting she was on the receiving end of some strange “Welcome to the Avenger’s Madhouse” prank or something.

“Funny, McFly. Hmm, I guess that would make Dad Doc Brown. Or at least 50s Doc Brown. Doctor Foster is 80s Doc Brown that sends you to 1943. Weird.” He shrugged. “Take a look.” He gestured to the box in front of him.

Darcy cautiously approached and looked down into the box. On top was a yellowed envelope with an old Art Deco version of the Stark Industries logo and her name written on the front in her own handwriting. She picked it up and looked at Tony for permission to open it. He just waved his hand at her to go ahead.

Dear 2013 Darcy, 

This is not a joke. You will be going back in time soon to 1943. So that you know this is true, I’ll tell you something you have never told any other living soul.

“Holy shit!” She dropped the letter and collapsed onto a stool. She closed her eyes and took a couple of deep breaths to calm herself down. Jane was trying to bend the fabric of the universe, so of course, she would end up accidentally sending Darcy back into time. To a world at war, no less. “What the fuck?!”

She opened her eyes, locking gazes with Tony and he smirked at her. “I believe the proper exclamation would be ‘Great Scott!’”

She shot him a dirty look, but could stop herself from saying, “This is heavy.”

He chuckled in response. “Keep that sense of humor, Lewis. You’re going to need it.” Tony reached into the box and pulled out a small card. He studied it for a moment before flipping it around to show to her. “Nice hair.” 

It was an old Stark Industries ID card with a black and white photo of her with an elaborate 40s hairstyle and retro cat-eye glasses. It was either Darcy herself or  a very impressive photoshop job. 

Tony set it on the table between them and looked down at it, musing, “I always wanted to meet the infamous Miss Lewis. You were- or will be- Dad’s favorite research assistant. Apparently, you ruined him for any other assistants. You were the standard which could never be met again which he frequently expressed loudly to his later assistants. You’re probably responsible for quite a few inferiority complexes among the R&D department during Dad’s time.”

“Not that doesn’t sound awesome and all, but do I get stuck in the past?” Darcy had a weakness for old movies and had always thought it might be fun to step into the world of one of those films, but only for a few days. She was a modern woman and she had no desire to live permanently in a world pre- Women’s Movement. Not to mention pre- television, internet, and cell phones.

“According to Dad’s letter to ‘Tony Jarvis’.” He made an irritated face and held up the envelope to her.  “Which I’m assuming is me. I think.”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “I probably didn’t want to fuck up the timeline by telling him too much.” At least that seemed like a good plan based on all the time travel movies she’d seen. It wasn’t like she was a quantum physicist or whatever. “I’d hate for you not to be born if I told your dad he was going to have a kid. Maybe you were an accident.”

A strange look flickered across Tony’s face, before that sardonic know-it-all expression was back. Maybe she had accidentally hit a little close to home. From what she knew it seemed like Tony had been born late in Howard Stark’s life. “Anyway, according to the letter you do leave the past in 1945. We can only assume that Dad successfully manages to send you back.”  He grinned as if he couldn’t help tagging on, “To the future.” 

Darcy sighed. “So, I’ll be in the 40s for 2 years? During the height of World War 2?”

“Better start practicing your jitterbug, McFly.”

Chapter Text

When Darcy went home that night she intended to drink a very large glass of wine and finally think about the inevitability of her going back in time to 1943 in the next couple of months due to an accident involving Jane’s Faux Bifrost machine.  

Tony didn’t think it would be wise to try to prevent it from happening and disrupt the time loop. She’s seen The Terminator movies too and she really didn’t want to be the reason they ended up with a Nazi Skynet. Hanging out in the 1940s for a couple of years with Howard Stark seemed like an infinitely better idea. Tony had spouted a lot of actual scientific time travel theories too, but that seemed kind of what it boiled down to.

Time travel gave her a headache.

In the middle of her large glass of wine, she started thinking about that escapist phase in college when she’d read a bunch of books about a woman falling through a hole in time and/or space and ending up living in a different time period or reality or realm. 

One thing she had learned from all those books was there was probably some truth to that quote: “The past is a foriegn country; they do things differently there.”

Darcy remembered that at least 75% of the heroines in those books were incredibly frustrating and got in constant trouble, because they made absolutely no attempt to blend in and lay low until they could find a way home. In fact, they seemed hell bent on trying to force their modern and usually American sensibilities on whatever strange culture they found themselves in. And, honestly, there was no way there was going to be a hot Elf Prince that would find that kind of willful and oblivious attitude attractive and fall in love with her and then turn his world upside down so they could live happily ever after.

Darcy was a thoroughly modern 21st century woman with the views and attitudes to match and she didn’t look forward to all the casual misogyny, racism, homophobia, and who knows what other kinds of prejudices that she was likely to encounter. But she definitely didn’t want to end up burned at the stake as a witch or whatever the 1940s version of that was.

She poured herself another large glass of wine and decided to start a list of things that may help her blend in more with the 40s and keep her alive during World War II.. 

She put Casablanca on the TV and started a secondary list of movies set in the 40s in New York, London, and World War II that might provide her some useful tips on attitudes, social mores, fashion, and lingo. She was suddenly very glad she had spent all those summers as a kid watching old movies on  TCM with her grandmother.

Tony also didn’t think she should do any research on his dad and what he was up to during the war so she didn’t accidentally try to change something that was supposed to happen. She did know that Howard Stark was involved  in the project that turned Steve Rogers into Captain America. Then later during the war he worked for the SSR in London with Peggy Carter and the Howling Commandos. She was pretty excited at the thought of meeting Agent Peggy Carter who seemed like she was a real badass dame. 

Darcy met back up with Tony the next afternoon. Apparently, Tony Stark doesn’t do mornings unless the fate of the world is in the balance and Darcy going back in time to work for his father isn’t the end of the world. Probably. Hopefully.

When she walked into Tony’s workshop,it became apparent he made a list of things she would need too. She found some jewelry cases laid out on one of his work benches. They were filled with an assortment of Art Deco style lockets.

“Take your pick,” he told her. “Dad’s letter said you had microfilm of Doctor Fosters device in a locket that he used to build the machine that will send you back. To the future.” He grinned at his own joke and she rolled her eyes. That was probably going to be happening a lot from now on.

She tried to appear nonchalant as she looked them over. She felt a little like she was a secret agent  in Q’s workshop picking out some kind of double purpose spy jewelry. Darcy was a complete magpie anyway and loved shiny things, especially jewelry, so it was a real treat as well. She tried on several and settled on a large lozenge shaped gold locket with silver designs in the corner that sort of reminded her of the Chrysler Building’s spire.

After she made her choice Tony led her to another table with some leather belts that had small purses attached. They were in a variety of colors and styles and big enough to hold a phone and a wallet, but they were all much more stylish than a fanny pack.

“As I understand it there is some sort of pocket shortage when it comes to women’s clothes these days,” Tony told her and Darcy huffed out a laugh. That was so true. “According to Dad’s letter, the way you prove you’re from the future is by showing him some videos on your phone.  You’re going to need to have it on you at all times along with the letters of introduction Dad wrote as well as some cash to tide you over in case it takes a while to connect with him. In a couple of days, I’ll have a new phone for you with a super long battery life and a charging cable that will work with 40s American and British outlets of the time. But do NOT let that phone get in the wrong hands, meaning anyone, but yours, including my dad’s. Because the number one rule of time travel is ‘Don’t fuck with the timeline.’”

“Right. No phone for Daddy.”

“Ugh. Just no,” Tony made an exaggerated face like he was going to be sick. “Don’t ever call him that.”

“So speaking of, am I going to have trouble with him chasing me around a desk or something?”

“I doubt it. He was definitely an outrageous flirt and a world class womanizer. There will definitely be some off color jokes in your presence. However, from what I know and the stories I heard he liked to keep business and romance separate, so never dipped his quill in the company ink, so to speak.”

“Swell.”

“See, you’re already talking like a 40s broad.”

“I’ve really got to work on not calling people ‘dude’.” Darcy grinned, before turning serious. “So I made a list of things or skills I need to acquire before I leave. I’m going to need your help with some of this because I assume my little trip is going to be hush hush.”

“Okay, lay it on me, McFly.”

Darcy took a deep breath. She wasn’t really looking forward to this part of the conversation. “Number One, I need a recommendation for a good OB/GYN in New York. I assume Pepper goes to a decent one and you can probably get me an appointment pretty soon.”

Tony looked perplexed. “Sure, but that’s your number one request? Wait! Do you have some sort of medical condition? Not that’s normally my business, but you know...”

She sighed. Yep, not going to be an easy conversation. Of course, he would think it was a weird request. He was a man and didn’t have to think about worst case scenarios that women did on a daily basis, not to mention when time traveling. “I have a condition that is called being a person with female reproductive organs. I have an IUD now, but I’d really like to get an implant so I don’t have to worry about it getting dislodged or removed.”

“So, and this is also probably none of my business, but are you planning on sampling the...ah...uh…” he trailed off and made an obscene hand gesture instead.

Darcy rolled her eyes. “I’m not planning on having sex with anyone in the 40s. But someone may want to have sex with me and not take ‘no’ for an answer. I’m not sure I want kids in the 21st century, but I especially don’t want to have one while trapped in the past.”

Tony’s expression got serious.“That’s actually really smart. I hadn’t considered that.”

“Aren’t you lucky?” Darcy asked a little more angrily than she intended. “And you probably haven't considered how much it would suck to have a period in the 40s either. I don’t even know what kind of products they had back then, if any.”

“JARVIS, please have an appointment made for Darcy with Peppe’s OB/GYN ASAP.”

“Of course, sir,” the AI replied.

“Actually, now that you bring up medical concerns, we should probably line up some vaccines for you,” Tony told her before giving JARVIS instructions to do just that. 

“Yeah,” Darcy agreed. “Polio seems like it would really suck.”

“Okay, what’s next?” he asked, equal parts cautious and curious.

“You need to teach me how to use a slide rule.”

Tony laughed derisively. “I don’t know how to use a fucking slide rule, Lewis. How old do you think I am?”

“Right.” Darcy shrugged. “They’ve had calculators since the 60s or something. There’s probably some YouTube videos out there anyway.”

“But I got tons say I like how practical you’re being about this. I didn’t expect it from you.”

“C’mon, you’ve met Jane. You gotta realize I’m the one that keeps everything running and Jane alive while she’s thinking big.”

“No wonder Dad’s Miss Lewis was so legendary. So what’s next on your list?”

“As far as I know they didn’t have tasers back then, so I need someone to teach me how to shoot a gun.”

That got a laugh out of Tony. “Okay, strike what I said about being practical. You’re going to be working for a scientist, not a mobster.”

“A scientist working for a secret government spy organization. From what I recall your dad was in the SSR and was based out of London with Peggy Carter and Captain America during the war. If I’m going to be that close to a war zone, I want to know how to shoot Nazis should the need arise. Maybe punch them as well.”

“Fair point, Doctor Jones,” he conceded. “I’ll talk to Natasha and see if she can give you some lessons. Self defense too. Anything else? Fencing maybe? Might want to stab some Nazis too.”

Darcy ignored that last bit and continued on. “I want to learn how to fly a plane. You dad was a pretty impressive pilot from what I understand. If I’m going to be flying from here to yonder with him, I’d at least like to know the basics in case of emergency.”

He nodded in acceptance. “I'll talk to Rhodey. He used to go fly with Dad back in the day too.”

There was nothing else on her list that she couldn’t handle herself, but Tony gave her a credit card to cover whatever potential time travel related expenses she had.

For the next couple of months, Darcy was constantly on edge expecting to be thrown back to 1943 anytime she was anywhere near Jane’s lab. It would have been unbearable if she hadn’t been so constantly busy. Her days were filled with work and ‘time traveler’ lessons and she fell in bed every night exhausted.

Tony ended up throwing his weight around and claimed part of Darcy’s working hours for himself. Jane had protested mightily, but he hired two assistants for her who actually had degrees in Astrophysics. Eric Selvig, who had also joined them in New York, convinced Jane that working directly with Tony Stark was an excellent opportunity for Darcy’s future, since she couldn’t be Jane’s science minion forever. So that was how Darcy became a lab manager in the R&D Department, at least on paper.

Tony sometimes put her to work in his workshop and Darcy found she enjoyed the more hands on aspect of his work as a change from Jane’s big idea theoretical stuff. She also thought that Tony, no matter how hard he would deny it, enjoyed having a live person  he could snark with. Not that JARVIS wasn’t wonderfully sassy for an AI. She hoped she would get to meet his namesake when she worked for Howard Stark.

She also got the impression that Pepper Potts appreciated  Darcy’s efforts at getting Tony to go home at a reasonable hour or out the door on time for their date nights. Pepper sent her a very nice flower arrangement when Tony showed up on time for five date nights in a row.

Darcy spent a good chunk of her allotted Tony hours training at the shooting range  or learning some basic self defense moves with the Black Widow when she was in town between her SHIELD missions. Natasha never asked why Darcy wanted to learn such skills and she wondered what Tony had told Natasha when he asked her to train Darcy, but she was too afraid to ask a literal spy lest she arouse further suspicion. Regardless, she was grateful for Natasha’s assistance. She also found unloading a couple of clips at the range was a good way to burn off some of her anxious energy too.

When she wasn’t training with Natasha, she was taking an online ground school course and when Rhodey was available he took up in a variety planes to teach her to fly.  Rhodey was a great teacher. He was patient and had a bit of a dark sense of humor that Darcy appreciated. He probably needed both to be friends with Tony as long as he had been. 

Rhodey didn’t ask her why she wanted to learn to fly. He just took it for granted that anybody in their right mind should want to learn and she could tell he liked sharing the joy of the open sky with a student. As they got friendlier, she asked him about what Howard Stark was like. Rhodey talked a bit about meeting Howard, when both he and Tony were at MIT. In his opinion, Howard and Tony didn’t always have a great relationship because they were both so much alike in personality, as well as Tony’s normal teenage rebelliousness and Howard being used to always getting his way. Darcy could tell Rhodey really respected the elder Stark and they had bonded over their love of flying.

In her off time, she took classes. There was a school of burlesque in the city and they frequently held vintage beauty classes. She took one in vintage makeup, which her personal style naturally lent itself to anyway. She took another multi-week course in vintage hairstyling, where she learned about wet sets, pin curls, victory rolls, and all kinds of old school techniques. She actually had a really good time experimenting with her hair and got all kinds of compliments when she wore one of the retro hair styles. She would have also liked to take a class in fan dancing, but she really didn’t have time. Darcy truly hoped her trip into the past wouldn’t require her to know a burlesque routine, but she wouldn’t mind going to see a real burlesque show while she was in the 40s.

She also took a basic ballroom dancing class and once she had that down she took a swing class. She’d always wanted to learn the lindy hop and those kinds of dances. She found she was pretty good at it, but she would probably never be one of those girls good enough to be flipped around some dude’s shoulders. 

Darcy definitely didn't want to be a wallflower if the opportunity to dance came up while she was in the past. Based on old movies, it looked like people danced all the time and not just spontaneously in musicals. It made her wonder when it became so uncool for men to know any type of social dancing. Based on her experiences at wedding receptions, any idiot that could do a basic box step had women lining up to dance with them all night long. Modern guys were really missing out. Even at the weekly swing nights she started going to,  women always outnumbered the men.

Armed with Stark’s credit card, she updated her work wardrobe. Instead of the jeans, t-shirts, and baggy sweaters she normally wore, she started wearing high waisted trousers, flirty blouses, and more fitted sweaters. She figured when she got sucked into the 40s she needed to be wearing something relatively appropriate for the time so she wouldn’t draw unwanted attention or cause people to hassle her too much when she tried to get a meeting with Howard Stark.

Chapter Text

1943

When Darcy opened her eyes, she was no longer in Jane’s lab in Stark Tower. She was in a very different New York City. She knew it was New York because she could see the Chrysler building not far away.

“Oh, boy.” Her knees suddenly felt weak and she leaned back against the brick wall of the building behind her and took a couple of deep breaths. “Fuck! It happened. It really happened.”

She stood there for a moment just trying to take in the new world around her and come to terms that she had really traveled into the past. Once she got herself calmed down, she realized she was starting to get cold. It was definitely winter and all she had on was a thin blouse and cardigan with her wide-legged pants and ballet flats. She spotted a bar across the street and thought about how much she could really use a drink. However, she knew it wouldn’t be smart to let herself get drunk before she was someplace safe. So a drink would have to wait. She realized she was still clutching the printout of Jane’s notes on the astronomical anomalies that similar energy signatures as the Bifrost. She carefully folded them up and stuck them in her little belt purse. That thing was definitely thinking on Tony’s part. She had everything she needed in there. 

She decided to head to the diner she saw further down the street and get some coffee and gather her thoughts before she started trying to track down Howard Stark. 

She took a seat at the lunch counter and realized they had an old fashioned soda fountain. She’d never seen one in real life and always wondered what an old school soda like that tasted like. She ordered a cherry coke instead of coffee and a slice of apple pie.  A guy further down had a newspaper and she asked if she could borrow the section he’d finished reading. It was the front page of the New York Times and the date was January 8, 1943.

The waitress sat down her drink and Darcy took a sip. Maybe 1943 wouldn’t be so bad if this real cherry coke was anything to go by.

 Finally, after speaking to various intermediaries at Stark Industries she finally made it to Howard Stark’s gatekeeper, Mrs. Blankenship. She was a whip thin older woman with greying hair pulled back neatly, but unstylishly in a chignon and a well cut but drab olive suit. She eyed Darcy in her trousers, flat shoes, and long unstyled hair with frank disapproval. “I understand you have a letter of introduction for me, Miss Lewis.”

Darcy stepped toward her desk and handed over the envelope addressed to her. Mrs. Blankenship Took out a fancy silver letter opener from a drawer and carefully sliced open the envelope, before pulling out the letter and precisely unfolding it.

As she read it, her eyebrows climbed steadily higher and Darcy wondered what was in the letter. After she had finished, she glanced back up at Darcy. “You also have a letter for Mr. Stark?”

“Yes.” Darcy handed that letter to her as well. 

“Please have a seat, Miss Lewis. I will see if Mr. Stark is free.”

“Thank you.”

Mrs. Blankenship disappeared into the inner office and Darcy sat in one of the chairs in the waiting area.

It was no more than a minute or two before the door she had gone through burst open and a man bearing a distinct resemblance to Tony came bounding out. “Let me see it!” he demanded.

“What?” Darcy asked, a little startled by his intensity.

“The future phone!”

“Uh-” She cast a look to Mrs. Blankenship whose mouth was pulled into a thin line of disapproval whether with her or Howard Stark or both, Darcy wasn’t sure.

Howard seemed to get a lid on his excitement. “Right. Perhaps the device would be best viewed in the privacy of my office. This way, Miss Lewis.” He gestured toward the open door.

Darcy stepped through and Howard closed the door behind them. Darcy gaped at the lavish Art Deco decor. It was like a movie set or something. Her gaze was pulled back to Howard when she heard his laughter.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone more interested in my office than me.” He sounded a bit perplexed.

She studied him for a moment. He was an attractive man by any standard, but he looked like the height of 1940s masculine style with his thin mustache and beautifully tailored charcoal double breasted suit. She could see why women would be gaga over him, even without all his money.

“Well, it is a pretty fantastic office, Mr. Stark.” She focused on gigantic mahogany and chrome desk. “A bit over the top, but fantastic.”

“Yeah, the decorator did a swell job. I’ll give her your compliments. Now, show me your future phone.”

He had the same greedy look on his face that Tony got with exciting scientific theory or technology. Darcy pulled out her phone and sat on the couch in the little seating area at one side of the office. Howard sat down close beside her. He was practically vibrating with excitement.

“Now obviously, I won’t be able to make an actual call because there’s no wireless network in this time, but it’s more than just a phone. It’s also a portable media device where you can play music and movies, among other things. Here, let me pull up a video. This is Jane Foster, the scientist that accidently sent me back, and her boyfriend Thor.”

“Holy shit!” He was transfixed by the video of Thor trying to lure Jane out of the lab for dinner. “Play another!” he demanded when it ended.

This time she pulled up a music video she’d downloaded.

After that one was over with she said, “It can record videos- er, movies, too.” She opened the camera app. “Say something old timey, Mr. Stark,” Darcy told him with a teasing wink.

“Old timey?” he scoffed. “I’m a futurist, honey.”

Darcy pressed play and showed him the video.

“Imagine what I could do with that technology.”

“No way! Keep your hands to yourself. The number one rule of time travel is “Don’t fuck up the timeline”. And I intended to live by that while I’m here.”

He studied her for a long moment. His keenly intelligent eyes reminded her so much of his son.“You really are from the future, aren’t you?”

“Yes, and I need your help getting home, Mr. Stark.”

“Of course! I mean, I’m really the only one that could help you in this time anyway.”

Arrogance and extreme self confidence were definitely a family trait too. She just hoped Howard could back it up as well as Tony.

“I’ve got microfilm of the device, along with Jane's notes on the astronomical anomaly that caused me to end up here.”

“You do realize that this probably won’t be a quick fix, right?” Howard said, meeting her eyes with a very serious look. “I’m good, really good, but this Doctor Foster has got 70 years of science on me. Not to mention my war work keeps me pretty busy these days.”

“Yeah, I figured as much. So you got yourself a new research assistant until you can send me back.” He looked like he wanted to object, but she continued on. “The least I can do in exchange for you helping me get back home is offer you whatever assistance and knowledge I can in return. I mean I learned how to use a slide rule and everything for this.”

“I suppose you’re used to some sort of portable calculator computer?”

“Yep. Much easier.”

“I can’t wait for the future.” He got a dreamy look in his eye for a moment before he turned his focus back to her. “Am I your only contact here?”

“Yeah, we thought you’d be the only one inclined to believe me and actually be willing to  help.”

That seemed to satisfy him. “Well, you can stay at my house too.”

Darcy’s eyebrows shot up in alarm. “Look, Mr. Stark, I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you helping me out. But I’m not shacking up with you. Our relationship is going to be purely science based,” she told him firmly. 

He burst out laughing and sent her an exaggerated lascivious leer. “You say that now, Miss Lewis.”

“Not gonna happen. The first rule of time travel is “Don’t fuck up the timeline.” I’m not going to get involved with anyone in this time, least of all the founder of the company I work for in 2013. I don’t want to be out of a job when I get back.”

He laughed again. “Not that bedding a woman from the future wouldn’t be something to brag about, but I’ll never be lonely. You can stay at my official residence. I don’t bring romantic liaisons there. Besides, my butler, Mr. Jarvis and his wife will be excellent chaperones. Mrs. Jarvis could use a friend. I worry about her feeling isolated. She doesn’t know many people in New York.” Then he waves the unpleasant thought away. “We’ll get started on the device first thing in the morning.” He looked her up and down. ”Actually, we should probably get you clothes first. I presume you didn’t bring any luggage.” She shook her head. “And a hair appointment.”

Darcy felt a little insulted. Sure, her hair wasn’t in one of the elaborate updos many women wore, but she had a very nice Veronica Lake thing going on.

Howard called in Mrs. Blankenship and started rattling off a list of things for her to take care of. “Miss Lewis is going to be my new research assistant. Have the paperwork ready tomorrow afternoon. Make an appointment for her first thing tomorrow at Elizabeth Arden for hair and manicure. Notify the usual fashion houses that I’ll be bringing by a lady to be outfitted tomorrow. And call Jarvis and have him bring the car out front.” 

While they waited for the car, they came up with a cover story to explain Darcy’s presence and new employment. It was decided Darcy had previously been a research assistant to a scientist Howard had known on the West Coast. The scientist had died unexpectedly and a little mysteriously. Based on Howard’s reputation it would be no surprise that he would want to get his hands on research that may have been important enough to kill over. So he offered Darcy a job and his protection which would be why she would be living in his mansion. 

When the car arrived, Mrs. Blankenship or “The Dragon” as Darcy soon learned Howard called her, came into his office with his coat and hat. 

Howard looked at Darcy in her thin blouse and cotton cardigan and then back at Mrs. Blankenship. “Call Heller’s and tell them  I’ll be bringing by a lady to pick out a coat tomorrow.” He took his coat from his secretary and held it out to Darcy. 

She slipped her arms through the sleeves of the heavy black wool overcoat. “Thank you. Not much call for winter coats out West,” she said with a smile trying to play into her cover story.

Howard settled his fedora on his head and wrapped his red scarf jauntily around his neck before he led her down to the car. Mr. Jarvis opened the car door for them and greeted Darcy with cool politeness, but he raised an eyebrow when Howard informed him that Darcy would be staying at his primary residence. Apparently, he wasn’t joking when he said he never brought women there.

Mr. Jarvis was tall and thin and wore a brown fedora and a very British tweedy coat. He looked pretty much like she had always imagine Tony’s AI, JARVIS, would look if he were an actual person. 

Mrs. Jarvis in contrast was nothing like how she expected. She was close to Darcy’s own age with pretty red hair done up in a coronet of braids and a bright flowered dress and royal blue wool cardigan. She greeted Darcy at the door with a warm hug. “It will be so nice to have you here with us.. I’ve had a room made up for you in the East wing near Mr. Jarvis and I. Shall I show it to you now?”

After that, Ana, as she insisted Darcy call her, took Darcy on a tour of the house. She found out Howard’s room was in the West wing. She was taken down to the kitchen and introduced to the Swiss chef, Fritz, who was a haughty older gentleman in one of those floppy chef’s hats. With an air of great condescension he had asked Darcy if had any special requests when it came to food, but when she told him she would enjoy whatever he chose to make he thawed a bit and gave her a very slight nod of approval.

She could see how Ana might get a little lonely. Howard Stark was rarely home and  Mr. Jarvis and Fritz were the only permanent staff except for a couple of maids that only came in and worked three days a week. 

Howard called Jarvis his butler, but he didn’t seem to do much buttling. He seemed more of a personal assistant and guy friday taking care of anything and everything that Howard needed taken care of. Between Mrs. Blankenship and Mr. Jarvis, it seemed his life was well organized.

Darcy was surprised to find Jarvis and Ana ate dinner with Howard. Howard was obviously not a stickler for Downton Abbey style etiquette. Jarvis tried to apologize because she was eating with the “staff” and for the fact they didn’t “dress” for dinner. “Mr. Stark insists we join him for meals as he doesn’t like to eat alone.”

“I can’t blame him,” Darcy said with a smile. She was actually glad Mr. and Mrs. Jarvis were there as a buffer. She got the feeling Howard was dying to pick her brain about the future.

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Howard declared. “If we really want to get all classist about about it, Jarvis is definitely my social superior. His people have been hovering on the edges of the aristocracy since the Normans. I grew up a mutt on the Lower East Side. My money’s about as new as it can get. Besides, it’s not like we don’t all live in the same house together anyway. So why not share a meal and chat? At least you two will actually tell me what you think,” he gestured to Jarvis and Ana with his butter knife and she could see Jarvis cringe at his manners. “I got enough ‘yes men’ at the office. Fritz, though, he’s too good to eat with us uncultured heathens. He’ll never unbend enough to break bread with us. We’re lucky he’s willing to let us eat the food I pay him to  cook.”

Darcy did not want to be at the Project Rebirth experiment. She knew what was going to happen besides Steve Rogers becoming Captain America and she did not want to witness Doctor Erskine’s murder.

She liked Doctor Erskine. He was kind and funny and told witty slightly off color stories when he had too much schnapps after dinner. She was afraid if she was there, she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from interfering.

She figured since it was a top secret project she wouldn’t be allowed, but apparently the Strategic Scientific Reserve was so desperate for Howard Stark’s assistance that they were willing to give him whatever he wanted no questions asked. Somehow in the short time Darcy had been Howard’s research assistant, she’s become indispensable to him. Sure, she’d already met Colonel Phillips and Agent Peggy Carter and they seemed to find nothing suspicious about Howard Stark’s new female research assistant. She was fairly certain that they initially dismissed her as Howard’s latest paramour until they actually saw Darcy and Howard work together. Agent Carter warmed up to her considerably once she realized Darcy wasn’t in Howard’s lab as mere eye candy and was good at keeping him focused on work.  

But, c’mon, one of their chief scientists, who is a notorious playboy, suddenly gets a new female research assistant right before they’re about to test a top secret experimental serum to create a super soldier and no one thinks that’s suspect? Had they not heard of Mata Hari? Darcy could be stealing all their secrets and murder Howard while she was at it. No wonder a Hydra agent would get into the secret lab to assassinate Doctor Erskine if the SSR’s security was so lax. 

Darcy clung to the edges of the room trying to stay out of the way as the equipment was prepped. Her job was ostensibly to take notes for Howard during the procedure. 

Despite living and working in Stark Tower, she had never actually met Steve Rogers in person in her time. He lived in Washington DC and worked for SHIELD and only went to the tower on Avengers related business. Even though she’d only seen pictures and video of Captain America, it was a little shocking to see how scrawny he was when Agent Carter escorted him into the room. Doctor Erskine really was a genius. 

But she didn’t think she would ever forget Rogers’s agonized screams during the procedure. 

When the inevitable explosion happened and shots fired, Howard grabbed her and pushed her to the floor, covering her with his own body. She was reminded yet again that Howard Stark was a decent man, despite his reputation. “Was this why you didn’t want to come?” he hissedin her ear. “You knew.”

Tears pricked at Darcy’s eyes, thinking about poor Doctor Erskine bleeding out nearby. “I’m sorry, Howard.”

He gave a heavy sigh of resignation. “I guess it had to happen. Damn it to hell.”

They watched Agent Carter, several other SSR agents, and finally the newly super-human Steve Rogers run out and give chase to the Hydra agent. 

The immediate danger seemed to be over and Howard helped to her to her feet. They hung back for a few minutes watching Colonel Phillips and Senator Brandt argue. In the ensuing chaos, no one was paying attention to Howard, which was honestly kind of stupid. How much would it damage the war effort if the other genius in the room was also assassinated?

Howard took advantage of confusion and pulled her over to the coat closet. He threw her coat at her and she quickly pulled it around her shoulders. Then he thrust a briefcase that she recognized as Doctor Erskine’s into her arms. “Jarvis should be still parked down the street. I want you to go directly to my lab and gather every scrap of paper related to Project Rebirth, Erskine’s serum, and vita-radiation. Get the Dragon to help you. Tell Jarvis to lock it all in my secret vault. Do you understand, Darcy?”

“Yes,” She nodded.

“And if some G-men show up, you know nothing. Just play empty headed. They already think you’re just decoration.”

She nodded again and walked through the tumult of the lab and the antique store upstairs without a single person stopping her or even questioning her. She really needed to mention her security concerns to Agent Carter later. This was just ridiculous.

She walked down the street to where Jarvis was parked in the Lincoln. He hopped out of the car and opened the back door for her. “Miss Lewis, what in heaven’s name is going on?”

“Nazi spies. Doctor Erskine was killed,” she said, clutching his briefcase to her chest.

“And Mr. Stark?”

“He’s fine. Now drive!” she told him and he pulled away from the curb. “We need to go collect everything related to this project from Howard’s lab and he wants you to lock it in his vault. He’s worried the Feds may try to seize it.”

Darcy watched the scenery go by as Jarvis sped through the streets of Brooklyn towards Manhattan, but saw none of it.

“Are you alright, Miss Lewis?” Jarvis asked quietly. 

“Of course,” she said automatically. It was a lie and Jarvis knew it.

A bit of white entered her field of vision and she looked up to see a handkerchief Jarvis was holding out to her. Only then did she realize she had tears, streaming down her face. She took the handkerchief and thanked him quietly. 

“I’m sorry you had to witness that, Miss Lewis. Death is never easy to see. Especially when it’s a violent death.”

Darcy had been trying to blot the tears away, but Jarvis’s sympathetic words had her crying even harder. “I saw what was going to happen and I couldn’t do anything to stop it, Jarvis. I just had to stand there and watch.” The “Don’t fuck up the timeline” rule was the hardest thing she ever had to adhere to. “I’ve never felt so helpless in my life. I liked Doctor Erskine.”

She was glad Jarvis didn’t offer any empty platitudes. Instead, he told her, “You might not have been able to save him, but now you can make sure Doctor Erskine’s work doesn’t fall into the wrong hands.”   

She took a deep breath and pushed her sadness to the back of her mind as she wiped away the rest of her tears. “Right. We’ve got this, Jarvis. I’m not going to fall apart on you. I promise.”

“I never thought you would, Miss Lewis.” 

Chapter Text

The SSR headquarters in London had started out life as some aristocrat’s lavish townhome a hundred or so years p-rior, then at some point it had been converted into a hotel before being taken over by the American army. It was especially useful for a secret organization like the SSR because it had an extensive network of underground rooms that didn't require much effort to turn into bunkers. Howard’s workshop was in one of the underground rooms and Darcy didn’t see much daylight. Most personnel were billeted on the upper floors in the former hotel rooms that weren’t being used as offices. Darcy was incredibly grateful that Howard had rented two suites for them at Claridge’s Hotel, because sometimes the only times she left HQ or even that basement workshop was going to or from the hotel. She might not have seen much daylight, but at least she got a little fresh air, although the sight of all the bombed out buildings was more than a little depressing. 1943’s London looked virtually nothing like the London where she had lived in the 21st century.

They’d been in London a couple of months when Howard offered to fly Peggy Carter and Colonel Phillips to Italy where there had been some sort of skirmish between Allied troops and Hydra. Phillips and Peggy would be interviewing the survivors and Howard wanted to find out more information about the strange weapons that Hydra had been reportedly using. He’d been getting kind of antsy since there wasn’t much for him to do at HQ at the moment and he jumped at the chance to go.

Howard had told Darcy he would only be gone a couple of days, but it had been more than a week now. Private Lorraine, Colonel Phillips’s secretary, had told her the day before yesterday that Howard and Peggy had flown into enemy territory with Captain America, who had run away from his USO tour and decided to go on an unauthorized mission to free the soldiers Hydra had captured. She knew from history that he was supposed to succeed and one of the soldiers he rescued was his best friend from Brooklyn, James “Bucky” Barnes and the other members of the future Howling Commandos would also be among the liberated POWs. However, Darcy hadn’t been aware of Howard Stark’s involvement and she’d been a nervous wreck ever since she heard, even though Howard and Peggy had made it back to the Allied camp safely.

Not only had Howard not completed the device to send her back yet, she was also worried for him personally. In the months they’d worked together, they’d developed not only a good working relationship and despite her expectations, a close friendship. She would miss that arrogant bastard if he got himself killed.

Darcy had planned to transcribe some of Howard’s handwritten notes, but she was just sitting behind the typewriter staring at his notebook blankly, imagining increasingly insane ways she might be screwing up the timeline and getting stuck here because she ordered a Mai Tai at the Ritz bar and they hadn’t been invented yet.

“Hey, Darcy,” Lorraine called from the doorway. “Just got word they’re on their way back from the airfield. They should be here within the hour.”

Darcy felt most of her worry melt away and she stood. “Good. I intend to have a little chat with Mr. Stark about his delusional Air Corp fantasies.”

“Ooh, that sounds entertaining. Can I watch?” Lorraine laughed.

She returned her friend’s grin. “Sure. Pop some popcorn too.”

Darcy liked Lorraine and she’d become a good friend during her time in London. Lorraine was  fun and super-smart. She’d been a math major in college before she enlisted and had the most amazing ability to do complex math in her head. It was no wonder she had been recruited for the SSR. Lorraine was also a beautiful blonde and the most man hungry woman Darcy had ever met in any century. Lorraine went through men like tissues and none of them ever seemed to be able to keep up with her. It was rather refreshing to be around someone who owned their desires and sexuality so boldly when most women in this period were taught to suppress their desires and be ‘good girls’ or they gained a ‘bad’ reputation and were ‘ruined’.

Darcy followed Lorraine up to what had once been the hotel lobby and they lurked in the corner as they waited for everyone to arrive. A short time later, they watched Colonel Phillips, Agent Carter, and Captain America in his Army dress uniform enter with some other soldiers.

“Kind of disappointed we don’t get to see him in the tights,” Lorraine murmured.

“Maybe if you buy some war bonds, he’ll put them on for you and do a little dance,” Darcy responded and Lorraine had to cover her mouth to suppress her laughter

Rogers paused and looked back to make sure another soldier who was in a brand new combat uniform was right there behind him. Darcy recognized him as his friend, Bucky Barnes. Despite the new uniform, Barnes looked the worse for wear. He was pallid, but a bit feverish looking and the dark circles under his eyes looked like bruises. His hair looked like he had run his hands through it too many times. He held himself stiffly as if he was nursing injuries that were concealed by his clothing. He looked almost nothing like the dashing man in the blue coat she remembered seeing photos and illustrations of in her history books. He seemed a bit dazed as Rogers steered him along toward the staircase. 

“Friend’s not bad either,” Lorraine declared. “But he looks a little too broken for me at the moment. But look at the big one.” 

Darcy’s eyes lingered on Barnes, Lorraine wasn’t wrong about him looking broken. The man had obviously gone through hell during his imprisonment. Her gaze tracked to another soldier that seemed to be hovering near Barnes and keeping a close eye on him as they went up the stairs. He was big and burly with a ginger colored walrus mustache and wearing bowler hat of all things.

“Ooh, I really like that one. Even with the stupid hat.”

“Did you come up here to shop for a new boyfriend?”

She gave Darcy a devilish smirk. “Nothing wrong with window shopping and checking out the new merchandise. I don’t have to buy right now.”

Finally, Howard came in with the next group of soldiers. He was obviously telling them some kind of story based on his wild hand gestures and their laughs.

Darcy marched over to them with Lorraine at her heels. “Excuse me, gentlemen,” she said deceptively sweetly. “I need a word with Mr. Stark.”

“Darcy!” Howard turned toward her an excited grin that quickly disappeared when he saw the look on her face. “Uh oh.”

She heard Lorraine snicker as she grabbed Howard’s arm and pulled him away to an empty conference room. She slammed the door shut and he held his hands up in a placating manner. “Before you lay into me, honey, just think about all those poor men that were rescued.”

“It’s the army’s job to rescue their men, Howard! Not some random civilian pilot!”

“Well, I’m hardly ‘random’-”

Darcy cut him off. She had no patience for his giant ego right now. “What the actual fuck, Howard?! Your plane isn’t even armed. And it’s shiny and silver. It’s easy to fucking spot! I heard you encountered here anti-aircraft guns and flack. What the fuck do you think would have happened if you’d crashed? If you didn’t die in the crash, don’t you think that Hydra would love to get their tentacles on you? You need to keep your ass in the lab where you can do the most good to beat these Nazi motherfuckers. You’re not the star of some adventure film. This is real life and you could have died! People are relying on you, you egotistical bastard!” Darcy took a deep breath and clenched her hands, trying to restrain herself from smacking the strange expression of awe and delight off of his face. “Why the fuck are you grinning at me like an idiot?”

“You were worried about me.” He stepped slowly toward her. “You were really worried about me.” He pulled her into a tight hug,

“Of course I was, you dumb fucker.” She awkwardly patted his back, not ready to let go of her anger. 

“But you told me I live through the war.”

“Not if you keep pulling stunts like that. Just because you lived in my future doesn’t mean you’re immortal. It doesn’t give you license to be reckless. The timeline could be changed. I will chain you in that fucking dungeon of a workshop if I have to!”

“Ooh, that sounds fun.”

Darcy broke the hug and punched him in the shoulder, but he just grinned. “I have never heard a woman, or man for that matter, say fuck so often in such a short period of time. Say it again, Darce.”

“Fuck you, Howard!” Flipping him off, she turned and stomped out the room, his laughter followed behind her.

Steve continued to stare in the direction Agent Carter had left in, but she had already exited the pub. Bucky left him standing there and went back to his spot at the bar. He threw back the rest of his whiskey before ordering another. He knew he'd had more than enough to be completely sloshed, but he didn’t really feel drunk. Although, he did feel strangely out of control, but it didn’t feel like when he’d drunk too much booze. 

Why had even tried to flirt with Agent Carter anyway? It was like his body had been functioning on muscle memory alone. Just going through the motions. He wasn't truly interested in her like that. She was certainly beautiful and she had real spirit. Two things that were normally appealing to him, but the entire regiment had seen the moon eyes Steve had been making over her. Bucky would never step on his friend’s toes like that. 

Steve settled on the stool next to him right as the bartender set another drink in front of Bucky. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough?”

“Lay off,” Bucky took a long sip. “I think I deserve to drink myself under the table tonight. I don’t know if you heard, but I’ve had a rough couple of months." 

He could feel his friend’s concerned gaze on him. “You okay, Buck?”

He was so damned tired of that question. He was definitely not okay and he knew he had not been doing a good job of hiding it. He knew he looked like an absolute mess. Earlier, he’d felt like he was overheating, even though no one else seemed to feel too warm. He’d stripped off his tie and unbuttoned his uniform shirt and jacket. His hair was still in sweaty disarray. If one of his men had been walking around with their uniform in such a state, he would have balled them out. How had the tables turned where Steve was sitting there pristine with not a hair out of place and Bucky looked (and felt like) he was dying?

He couldn’t decide if Steve was being so willfully oblivious that he didn’t notice? Or was he just hoping Bucky would just get himself pulled together soon and be the reliable Bucky that had always been at his side?

Bucky forced a smile to his face. “Sure, pal.” He stood and clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m going to step outside for some air.”

“I’ll come with you.” Steve made to get up as well.

“Jesus Christ, Steve! Can I not get five goddamn minutes to myself?”

Steve fell back down on the stool. “Sure, Buck. Sure.”

He tried not to let his friend’s wounded expression get to him. If he didn’t get away now, he was afraid he was going to fall apart right in the middle of the pub. He downed the rest of his drink. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

As Bucky walked through the bar, he lifted a pack of Lucky Strikes from the edge of a table a group of sailors were sitting at. They were so deep in their conversation, they didn’t even notice.

Once outside, he took a deep breath. There was a slight chill in the air, but he still felt a little feverish. He pulled a cigarette out of the pack and put it between his lips. He stuck his hand in his pockets only to remember his zippo had been taken from him when he had been taken prisoner. They’d stripped everything from him, hadn’t they? Even the uniform he wore was newly issued when they got to London. He had nothing left of himself from before except for his dog tags and a worn photograph of his parents, sister, and little Stevie that he had hidden in his boot when he was captured.

He felt like he’d woken up in a world that wasn’t his own. What had those crazy Nazis done to him? Even his body felt wrong somehow. He was terrified to find out what that mad scientist had done to him. He’d been alternating between a fever and chills ever since he’d been rescued. His entire body ached even down deep in his bones. He felt clumsy like he hadn’t since he’d sprouted up to six foot at 15 and like he didn’t even know his own strength.

He banged his head back against the brick wall before sliding down to sit on the sidewalk. His head fell into his hands. He was exhausted, but he was afraid to sleep. He just kept seeing that little Nazi troll peering down at him and injecting him with who knows what.

Cherry red wingtips entered his field of vision. “You okay there, Sarge?” a slightly husky feminine voice asked him.

His eyes roved up from the red oxfords to black trousers to a black and white houndstooth wool jacket perfectly tailored to an impressive female figure to bright red lips to a pair of concerned blue eyes behind a pair of dark framed glasses slightly obscured under a rakish black felt hat.

She may have been the most beautiful thing he’d seen in months. If he hadn’t felt so utterly exhausted in both mind and body, he would have been embarrassed she found him sitting there like a bum.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a light, would you?” he somehow managed to ask.

“Sure.” She pulled a fancy silver lighter from her pocket before handing it to him.

“Thank you, ma’am.” He lit the cigarette in his mouth and took a deep drag, but it didn’t do as much as he’d hoped to calm his frayed nerves.

Unexpectedly, she sank down and sat against the wall next to him.  So close he could smell her perfume and feel the heat of her body. He held out the pack of cigarettes to her.

“No, thanks,” she said.

He took another long drag before asking, “You American, sweetheart?” She wasn’t in uniform, either military or nurse, but there was something very American about her that he couldn’t define.

“Yeah, I’m over here with my boss. He’s a weapon’s contractor.”

He glanced at her in surprise. Her clothes looked expensive and he would have thought she was married to some British gentleman or diplomat. “What kind of man brings his secretary to war?”

“I’m not exactly a secretary, but I go where I’m paid to go. Could be worse.” He felt her shrug.

Bucky gave a humorless laugh. “You wouldn’t believe how much worse it could be.”

She was silent for a long moment. He felt her eyes studying him as he smoked. No doubt she saw what an utter mess he was, but her voice was kind when she spoke. “Probably not. Seems like you might know what you’re talking about there. Seen some tough action?”

“You could say that.” Talk about understatement of the century. He’d seen some tough action and some utterly insane shit that he still didn’t know how to process. “I was supposed to be going home. But how can I leave that dumb punk without someone to watch his back?” He took a shuddering breath, disturbed by how close to tears he was. Then he felt a cool delicate hand grasp his and something broke inside him. The dam that he’d pushed everything bad that happened the couple of months burst. Silent tears slid down his face and he was helpless to stop them or the feelings he’d been trying so hard to ignore for so long. He turned his face away from her and stared down the dark street swiping at his wet face with his free hand. He couldn’t seem to stop the words tumbling out of his mouth. “What I wouldn’t give to see my folks and sister. I thought I’d die without ever seeing them again or telling them how much I love them. But he’s my brother and he risked everything to save me. How can I abandon him now? He’ll just get himself killed. He’s too reckless and I owe him. But I just really want to go home. I feel like if I don’t go home now, then I’ll never get to go home at all.”

She pressed up against his side and the feel of her soft feminine body offering some measure of comfort that felt like pure bliss. “So go home,” she said quietly. “You’ve done your duty. Go home to your family. I’m sure they miss you as much as you miss them.”

He shook his head. “I can’t. I promised him I’d always have his back, that I’d be there to the end of the line. He saved me.”  He looked down at the hand with bright red nails holding his larger one, then he looked up at her face. There was no censure in her expression. She just looked at him in understanding and sympathy. He wiped away his few remaining tears and tried to pull himself together. “Jesus, why am I unloading all this onto a pretty girl like you? I should be buying you a drink and asking you to dance. Those bastards must have really done something bad to me.”

“I don’t mind,” she told him with a soft smile. “Sometimes it’s easier to talk to a stranger. To voice your fears that you can’t even tell your closest friends.”

“What are you afraid of, sweetheart?”

She sighed and her smile turned a little brittle. “Kind of the same actually. I feel like I’m trapped here. That I’m not in control of my life anymore. I’m afraid I’ll never get to go back home again. I’m afraid I’ll be stuck here and never see anyone I love again.”

Bucky squeezed her hand, trying to offer her even a hint of the comfort she had given him. “Tell you what. Let’s ditch duty and responsibility and just run away back home together.” What he wouldn’t give to walk away from this hell with a dame like her.

“Oh, you don’t know how much I wish I could do that, Sarge.” She leaned her head against his shoulder, the brim of her hat getting a little mashed down. “You seem like you might be a fun companion for an adventure.”

He huffed in disbelief. “Sweetheart, I’m pretty sure nothing about me tonight would give the impression that I’m fun.”

She lifted her head and met his eyes and gave him a teasing smile. “Eh, I like ’em broody. It could be fun to teach you how to enjoy life again.”

“I think I could enjoy you, sweetheart.” Bucky gave her a crooked smile. It wasn’t much, but it was his first real smile since he’d been captured. She made him feel a little lighter, more like the man he’d been before the war.

She smirked at him. “Yeah, you might be fun after all, Sarge.”

The moment was broken when the pub door banged open and Dum Dum Dugan came out followed by another soldier Bucky didn’t recognize.

Bucky sighed when he saw Dugan and rose to his feet. He held out his hand and helped his new friend to her feet..

Ol’ Dum Dum was a corporal in Bucky’s squad in the 107th. He had been Bucky’s right hand man and had become a close friend after the months they spent fighting together and then later imprisoned together. Bucky had tried to be a good sergeant and did his best to take care of his men. Dugan had taken it upon himself to make sure his sergeant was taken care of too. He’d been keeping a close eye on Bucky since their rescue, but at least Dugan knew how to give him space to breathe, unlike Steve’s mother henning.

Dugan walked a little down the street and lit his cigar before returning a pack of matches to the other soldier and made conversation with him, pretending not to watch Bucky and the pretty girl. 

Bucky lit another cigarette before holding the lighter out to her. “Thanks for the light, sweetheart.”

She shook her head. “Keep it, Sarge. You may need it to light your way home.”

“Thank you,” he said, meaning not just the lighter, but for listening to him and not judging him as a coward for wanting to go home. “Can I walk you somewhere?”

“No, thanks anyway. I’m not far. You should probably get back to your friend.” She inclined her head toward Dugan.

“Are you sure?” he asked, not liking the thought of such a nice woman walking home at night by herself.

“I can take care of myself.” She assured him, before she stepped closer to Bucky and raised up on her toes to place a quick kiss at the edge of his mouth. “Stay safe, Sarge.”

“You too, sweetheart,” he said as she turned away and started walking down the street. He watched her until she was swallowed by the dark blackout London night.

Dugan finally walked over to  him and gave a low whistle. “Damn, Buck. Guess you are some kind of Cassanova after all.”

“It wasn’t like that,” he protested. She had been kind when he was falling apart and he could do with a little kindness in his life at the moment.

The other soldier who had walked over with Dugan was gaping at Bucky. “You got some brass balls though, Sergeant. That’s Howard Stark’s mistress.”

“What?” Bucky and Dugan asked in unison, both of their heads swiveling to look at the private.

“I saw her give Stark what for when he got back from helping Captain America rescue those guys from the 107th. Sounded like she was afraid she was going to lose her meal ticket if he kept doing dangerous stuff like that.”

“I think you must be mistaken,” Bucky told him coldly. He couldn’t help feeling unexpectedly disappointed though. Of course, a lovely woman like that would already be attached. But he hated the thought of some man taking advantage of her. Even if it was a man Bucky greatly admired like Howard Stark.

“Nope. I’d recognize those tits anywhere,” the private continued oblivious to the dark looks both Dugan and Bucky were giving him. “They’re so impressive you don’t even notice the glasses.”

The soldier didn’t even see the punch that took him out. But Bucky stared at the bloodied mess of a face and then back at his fist in amazement. His punch shouldn’t have cause that much damage. Dugan was staring at him just as dumbfounded.

“Bucky, what the hell happened?’ Steve was suddenly grasping him by the shoulders.

“I don’t know.” He felt like he was going to throw up. Maybe he really was drunk. His body broke out in a cold sweat and it felt like every ache in his body had tripled in intensity.

“Well, Cap,” Dugan said, taking charge of the situation while putting a steadying hand on Bucky’s arm. “The private there said something offensive about a lady and the Sarge took exception to it. Not that I blame him. He just beat me to the punch.”

Bucky looked down at the lighter still in his hand. “She was nice, Steve. She gave me a lighter.”

“Buck, you’re drunk,” Steve declared. Drunk or dying or whatever, Bucky felt like he was about to collapse on the sidewalk beside the unconscious private.

“Take him back to HQ, Cap. We’ll take care of this with the MPs,” Dugan told him as Gabe came out of the pub to see what the commotion was about. “Don’t worry. This isn’t our first brawl.”

Steve propelled Bucky down the street to HQ. Bucky didn’t understand what had happened. He didn’t understand what was happening to him.

“I didn’t mean to hit him so hard, Steve.”

“I know, Buck.” He offered a bit of a grin. No doubt he realized this was the first time he had to pull Bucky out of a fight, not the other way around. “He shouldn’t have insulted a nice lady. I bet he won’t do that again.”

Chapter Text

Darcy didn’t bother to greet Agent Carter when they passed on the stairs, because Peggy looked like she was about ready to rain hellfire down on anyone that so much as breathed too loudly. Darcy knew Howard had come into HQ much earlier than he normally did that morning so he could meet with Steve Rogers about equipment. She could only imagine what Howard could have done to make Peggy so angry. Howard and Peggy held a deep respect for each other, even it was a bit begrudging on Peggy’s side at times. 

“Okay, Howard. What did you do to piss off Peggy?” Darcy asked, coming into the workshop. “She looks like she’s about to murder someone.”

“Don’t look at me, honey,” Howard protested and gestured to the man next to him. “Rogers is the one she shot at.”

Darcy took her hat and coat off before hanging them on the coat rack. She surveyed Rogers who looked sort of shell shocked with the unpainted vibranium shield on his arm. “Really, Captain? And I always heard you were such a nice boy.”

“Ma’am?” he questioned, looking at her for the first time since she entered and was apparently completely baffled by either her comment or just her person in general. She was one of the few women in the SSR and the only one not in uniform. The bright purple silk blouse and matching angora cardigan she wore today did rather stand out amongst all of the olive drab uniforms.

“So you picked that shield, huh?” She questioned with a bright smile, before she turned to Howard holding out her hand. “Told you so. Pay up, Howard. Momma’s got her eye on something special.”

“You do know rationing is on, right?” Howard sounded disgruntled as he walked over to her, but nevertheless pulled out his wallet and handed over several pound notes. He leaned in and whispered in her ear. “Don’t you think it’s cheating since you’re from the future?”

“No, because you didn’t believe me. Maybe check that ego, dude,” she poked him in the ribs. Howard had been dead set on Rogers choosing that silly machine gun shield. “And I won’t take your money so easily.”

“Maybe I’m just letting you win.” He gave her a smarmy smile and exaggerated wink.

She gave him an equally over the top eye roll. “Okay. Keep deluding yourself, boss.”

A throat cleared. “Should I come back? To finish this?” Rogers questioned, his tone bordered on disapproval.

“Why?” she leaned into Howard, wrapping her arm around his waist. With an arm around her shoulders, he pulled her even closer. They shared a look. Howard loved pushing people's buttons when it came to expectations of propriety as much as she did and it seemed Captain America might take himself a little too seriously. “Does our banter make you uncomfortable?” It obviously did based on his averted gaze. She wondered if he had heard the rumor that she was Howard’s mistress yet.

“Uh, no.” He met her eyes with a steely look and she just smiled at him. “I just wanted to check on the fellas.”

Howard apparently decided to give the poor awkward man a break and released her. “Rogers, I don’t think you met my research assistant before you left New York. This is Darcy Lewis.” 

“Nice to meet you, ma’am.” He gave her hand a polite, but firm shake.

“Likewise. Hopefully, some of these gadgets Howard is cooking up for your team will help you get close enough to actually punch Hitler for real.”

Rogers’s cheeks pinked a bit in embarrassment, but he gave her a rueful smile. “I hope so. I’d hate to think all that practice was wasted.”

Bucky walked out into the courtyard behind the main bulk of the SSR HQ building and lit a cigarette. He wasn’t hungover despite the large amount of whiskey he had drunk the night before. But he was exhausted and everything about his body still felt achy and generally “off” somehow.

He leaned against the wall trying to stay out of the way of the motor pool guys as they went about their jobs. He stared down at the fancy silver lighter with the elaborate DL engraved on it. It was definitely the kind of expensive lighter that he’d expect a millionaire’s mistress to carry, like something he’d seen in the window of Tiffany’s. 

It made his gut twist to think that his sympathetic angel was Howard Stark’s mistress. What kind of man brought his girl to a war zone anyway? It wasn’t like a man with Stark’s fame and fortune couldn’t find female companionship anywhere he went. If Bucky’s brief time with her was anything to go by, she seemed like the kind of gal that you’d always want to keep at your side. Even so, he couldn’t imagine bringing a woman he loved into danger like that. He’d always admired Howard Stark and would have loved to meet him and pick his brain. It seemed like he might get his chance since Stark was apparently the chief scientist for the SSR here in London. Now, Bucky was afraid he might punch him too.

“When did you start smoking, Buck?”

He looked away from the lighter in his hand and up to see that disapproving look on Steve’s face that Bucky had so often seen directed at other people, but rarely at himself. He actually had to look up at Steve to meet his eyes and not down like he used to. 

Was this dramatically larger Captain Rogers really his Steve? And what right did he have to disapprove of Bucky doing something as inconsequential as smoking when he was the one that had volunteered to be experimented on in the delusional hope that he could live out his war hero fantasies? 

There was an inexplicable rage rising up that was hard to contain. He smirked at Steve and said with deliberate nonchalance, “Since I didn’t have to worry about a little asthmathic coughing up a lung.” He took a long drag of the cigarette and blew the smoke out the side of his mouth.

Steve actually flinched at his words and a dark part of Bucky felt satisfaction at that.

“You gonna tell me what actually happened last night?” Steve asked, persistent as ever. That hadn’t changed with the new body. Unfortunately.

Bucky shrugged and took another drag. “I had too much to drink and taught some jackass to watch his mouth when talking about a lady.”

Steve was verging on exasperated. Even after all of these years of friendship, he had never seen through all the different masks Bucky routinely put on when he was hiding something from him. It had started when they were kids and Steve was at death’s doorstep several times a year. He learned to hide his concern and fear for his friend, because that would just further upset Steve and did nothing to speed his recovery. So Bucky bottled up those feelings and just put on his carefree grin and set about entertaining his bedridden friend as best he could. Later, when Mrs. Rogers had gotten sick and frail, Bucky had gained more masks as he tried to relieve the burden on both Steve and his mom, because they were too damnably proud to accept anything that could be construed as charity. 

One of the greatest frustrations of Steve’s life was his inability to pry out a secret Bucky truly wanted to keep to himself. After all these years he knew exactly how to derail any line of questioning from Steve he wanted to avoid. Bucky’s mouth ticked up into a bitter smile. That was one area where Steve’s persistence and attacking head didn’t pay off, but he never seemed to learn.

“Bucky, you beat him to a pulp.” 

He didn’t tell Steve that it had been just one punch and apparently neither had Dugan. He still had his sergeant’s back even against his new commanding officer. “What? You think you’re the only one that can start fights, Steve?” he pointed to him with his cigarette between his fingers. “The difference is that I have always been able to finish mine.”

Another flinch. Another bullseye.

Steve looked down and stared at his feet. Bucky recognized that look as him trying to gather his patience and not fly off the handle. An angry and combative Bucky wasn’t something he’d ever had to deal with very often and for some reason Steve always took a weirdly confrontational tact when trying to draw him out of that kind of mood, like he didn’t think Bucky had a right to that kind of anger.  “Bucky, what’s really going on? You don’t seem like yourself.”

“Well, gee, I wonder why?” Bucky gave a bitter laugh and his rage just overflowed and washed over him. “While you’ve been prancing across stages and lifting show girls’ skirts, Captain , I’ve been fighting in a goddamn war. I’ve killed people and had people try to kill me. I’ve spent weeks as a prisoner in a Nazi labor camp building some kind of Flash Gordon shit. Oh, yeah, I also got pneumonia and was just praying to die quickly. Praying to die before the mad scientists got their mitts on me and I died screaming like the other poor bastards that were carted off to the isolation ward. I may not have died, but I definitely screamed and cried and would have sold my soul to make the agony stop. And, y’know,” Bucky covered his eyes with his hand and gave a laugh that probably sounded more than a little unhinged, but he couldn’t stand to look at the stranger who was supposed to be his friend anymore. “Y’know, I’m not even sure I’m not still there and my mind is just so broken that I’m just dreaming that some weird distorted version of my pal from home rescued me. Because what the fuck? How does any of this make sense in anything other than a pulp novel?” He removed his hand from his eyes and gestured broadly at Steve from head to toe.

“Buck-” Steve started. Bucky could see the tears pooling in his eyes and that made him even angrier. What did he have to cry about? He’d gotten exactly what he always wanted. Bucky was the one that had been broken.

“And you, my best friend , Stevie. This is all news to you, isn’t it?” Bucky gave another manic laugh. “You hadn’t even bothered to consider what I’ve gone through, have you? You just expect me to follow along after you and bail you out of trouble like I always have. You may have a new body, but you’re still the same egotistical little punk you’ve always been. I’ve got news for you, Captain , war is not the grand adventure you’ve always imagined it would be. You are not D'Artagnan. There are no musketeers. No battlefield picnics. There’s just cannon fodder and blood and pain and death.”

“Bucky, I’m-” Steve reached out to touch his shoulder and Bucky shoved him back hard causing him to stumble back onto the ground. “Don’t fucking touch me!”

They were frozen in place staring at each other for a couple of moments. Steve hurt and bewildered sprawled on the cobblestones holding back distraught tears while Bucky stood over him panting like he couldn’t catch his breath and trying desperately not to think about how he should not have been strong enough to push Captain America down.

The tableau was shattered when a voice called from the doorway. “Uh, Sergeant Barnes, Colonel Phillips would like to see you.”

Bucky took a deep breath trying to calm himself and adjusted his uniform jacket. “Swell.” He turned on his heel and stalked inside.

Chapter Text

Bucky stood at attention in front of Colonel Phillips's desk. He wondered if this summons was about punching that private last night or about the altercation  he’d had with Steve in the courtyard. Was he about to be court martialed for striking an officer?

The colonel was leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed over his chest and studying Bucky with a shrewd gaze.

Finally, he spoke. “Well, Barnes, I had thought Rogers was the hothead between the two of you.” Bucky steeled his spine, refusing to shrink under Colonel Phillips’s glare and he continued, “You want to tell me why Private Henry is in the hospital this morning?”

“Yes, sir.” Bucky tried to keep his expression as blank as possible as he responded. “Private Henry made an extremely disparaging comment about a lady and I couldn’t let it stand.”

“Was the lady a friend of yours?”

“No, sir. I never met her before.”

“So you were just trying to impress her, is that it?”

“No, sir. She had already walked away when the private said what he did. I don’t even know her name. I stepped outside the pub for some air and to have a cigarette and I realized I didn’t have a lighter or matches. She was just walking down the street and I asked if she had a light. She let me use her lighter. She was nice.”

“Nice,” Phillips repeated flatly and eyed him and it was hard for Bucky not to squirm under his hard look. The colonel wasn’t stupid. He knew that was only the bare bones of the incident. Then he sighed and said,  “Well, Henry’s probably lucky you got to him before he finally got Carter angry enough to take him out. Word of advice, son, watch your step with Agent Carter. She has a low tolerance for disrespect.”

“Sir, I wouldn’t-”

“Can it, Barnes. I don’t think that will be your particular problem with Carter.” Bucky really wanted to ask what the colonel thought his “particular problem” would be, but kept his mouth shut. “At ease, Sergeant.”

Bucky allowed himself to relax slightly, but kept his attention focused on Phillips as he looked down at the file on his desk. 

“Your marksmanship scores during your training are impressive and the reports of your skill in the field equally so. You racked up quite a few notable kills. Roger’s team needs a sniper and he’s adamant that he can’t do without you.” The colonel looked up at him with a wry smile tugging at his lips. “From what I hear, it sounds like you’ve spent most of your life dragging his skinny ass out of trouble, is that right?” 

Bucky cracked a smile himself at that. “Yes, sir.”

“And you want to continue to do that even though you’re both going to get in a hell of a lot more trouble?”

“I’ll always have his back, sir,” Bucky said, trying to imbue his voice with as much confidence and certainty  as he could.

Phillips studied him again for a long moment. “Son, you’ve been through a hell of a lot,” his tone a little less gruff than it normally was. “I suspect it’s more than you were willing to spell out in your report.”

“Sir-”

“I understand.” The colonel held up his hand stalling his protest. “I should be sending you home after what you’ve been through. You deserve to go home. Do you want to go home, Barnes?”

Yes. Bucky clamped his jaw shut until he was sure that he wouldn’t blurt that out. “Well, who doesn’t, sir? Every man over here wants to go home.”

“That doesn’t answer my question. Do you want to go home, Sergeant Barnes? There’s no shame in it if you do."

Bucky took a deep breath. “No, sir. I want to stay. I want to be a part of this team. I want to destroy Hydra.”

The colonel nodded seemingly satisfied and laid two brass SSR insignia on the desk. “Alright then. Welcome to the SSR, Sergeant.” He stood and held out his hand.

Bucky shook it. “Thank you, sir.”

“Now, Barnes, you’ve got a big job ahead of you. I’m relying on you to keep Rogers in check when he gets too reckless. He hasn’t exhibited much in the way of self preservation yet.” He waved Bucky out of his office. “Go down to Stark and talk to him about what kind of gear you need.”

Bucky went by his room to replace the infantry insignia on his uniform jacket with the new SSR ones before going down to the basement workshops. 

Sitting near the entrance was a pretty blonde WAC and he stopped there to get directions to which one was Stark’s workshop.

“I’m Sergeant Barnes. I’m supposed to see Mr. Stark.” Bucky couldn’t help but  feel a little nervous. Howard Stark had been his idol for years and now he finally got a chance to meet him. He hoped he didn’t run off at the mouth like a starstruck kid. Or smack him for dragging his girl off to war when she could be safe at home.

“Barnes?” she asked, looking up at him. “You’re the one that beat up Private Henry, aren’t you?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said, trying to look regretful, but probably not succeeding very well. Bad news traveled fast in the SSR it seemed.

“Don’t be sorry, Sergeant,” she gave him a crooked smile. “ It’s about time someone taught that nasty little worm a lesson. Hey, Darcy,” she called out to a dark haired woman walking by with a mug of coffee in her hand. “This one’s for Stark, but he’s also the one that knocked out Henry.”

The brunette turned and he saw it was the woman from last night whose lighter he was clutching like a talisman in his pocket. She gave him the most beautiful smile as she switched her mug to her left hand before holding out her right. “On behalf of all the women Private Henry has ever encountered, I thank you.” Bucky shook her hand and couldn’t help giving her a cocky smirk in return. “The creeper was always trying to find an excuse to go up to women and talk to their tits.”

“Darcy!” the blonde admonished, but she was laughing.

“Come on, Lorraine. You know it’s true. I doubt Henry even knew the female of the species actually had a head or anything else above their shoulders.”

Bucky was trying very hard not to look down to check out Darcy’s chest himself. The gold locket resting on her bright purple blouse did tend to draw the eye in that direction. She had a hell of a figure even wearing a boxy cardigan and trousers. Instead he focused on the laughing blue eyes behind her black framed glasses. He was a little relieved she didn’t seem to recognize him. He had been beyond pathetic last night. 

He dredged up a bit of the charm that he’d had little use for recently. “Glad to be of service, ladies. You just let me know if there are any more creeps that need to be taught a lesson.”

“That’s sweet, Sarge,” Darcy patted his shoulder in a manner that felt a little condescending. “But Agent Carter has a list she’s working her way through. You just happened to beat her to the punch with Henry. So to speak.” She turned and started walking away. When she realized he wasn’t following her, she beckoned him. “Come along, James,” she said with a faux British accent. “Q has some lovely toys to show you.”

“You can actually call me Bucky, ma’am.”

She gave him a mischievous grin over her shoulder, “And you can call me Miss Moneypenny.”

“Pardon?”

“Oh, nevermind. I forgot those books aren’t out yet.” She waived his confusion away then stopped and turned around. “I'm Darcy Lewis, Howard’s research assistant.”

Before Bucky could formally introduce himself he was interrupted.

"Darce!” came a loud yell from the open door. “Darcy! I can’t find it!”

“The master bellows,” she commented with an eyeroll before yelling back as she continued through the doorway. “Find what, Howard?”

“The-” Howard Stark with his shirt sleeves rolled up and his tie loosened and slightly askew darted up to them and made a series of hand gestures that Darcy seemed to be able to interpret.

“Under the blue prints," she told him and pointed across the room.

“Ah ha!” He ran over to a large table covered in blue prints, rulers, and notebooks. He rooted around under them for a moment, then pulled out some sort of gadget, before spreading out the prints again. Stark came back over to them and his eyes zeroed I'm on the mug in her hands. “Is that coffee for me, honey?"

“No." She clutched the mug protectively to herself. "No more caffeine for  you. You’re so hyped up now, you’re verging on non-verbal. This soldier, however, is for you.” She gestured to Bucky with a flourish.

“What do I need a soldier for?" Stark eyed him with a shrewd gaze that belayed  the absent minded scientist routine Bucky had just witnessed.

Darcy rolled her eyes. Bucky got the feeling she did that a lot with Mr. Stark. “He’s one of Captain Rogers’s team. Sergeant Bucky was it?”

“Sergeant Barnes, ma’am,” he corrected her. “My friends call me Bucky.”

“Of which you have many, I’m sure.” She gave him a flirtatious wink and he got the feeling that she didn’t misunderstand his name and was deliberately teasing him. Strangely, it made him feel good. It made him feel a bit more like himself. The one that would have been flirting shamelessly with her.

“Jesus, Darce." Now it was Stark's turn to roll his eyes. "How are we supposed to outfit these men if you’re just going to flirt with them all?”

“I only flirt with the pretty ones, Howard. Lorraine’s got dibs on the ginger walrus.” She grinned before sauntering further into the workshop.

Bucky smiled at that description of Dugan, he couldn’t help feeling a bit bowled over by Darcy Lewis. 

“Come on, Barnes,” Stark said, clapping him on the back. “No need to be scared. Darcy doesn’t have much of a filter, but she’s mostly harmless.” He leaned in and whispered. “Lorraine’s the one you’ve got to watch out for. More hands than an octopus. Don’t let her get you backed into a corner either. Man. Eater.” Bucky supposed that was saying something if a man of Howard Stark’s reputation with the ladies looked a little nervous about.

Stark guided him further into the workshop to a room in the back with an impressive array of guns laid out. “I understand you’re a sniper. Well, I’m going to make you the best rifle and scope you could ever want.”

Bucky didn’t know why he was surprised by that, because Stark Industries was a major weapons contractor for the Allies. Maybe it was because he was always more interested in Stark’s futuristic technological innovations than the weapons his company manufactured.

Stark questioned him in depth on his weapons preferences and experience and anything possibly related to the firing of a gun. He even asked Bucky about any ideas he’d ever had about improving the guns he’d been issued by the Army.

All the while Darcy stood by, taking notes and occasionally asking questions of her own or reminding Stark of some idea he’d already had related to whatever they were discussing. He soon learned that Darcy wasn’t just a bit of eye candy Stark kept around. She was definitely his right hand woman in the workshop and smart as a whip herself. She was the kind of woman that Bucky would have made a serious effort to get to know back home. Smart, beautiful, witty, and kind was absolutely his type. But unavailable was not.

Not that it mattered. They weren’t back home. They were in the middle of a war and he was an absolute mess. God knows what those Hydra bastards had done to him. He could die tomorrow for all he knew without ever stepping foot on a battlefield again. Or he could just go completely bonkers. He did feel like he was standing on the edge of sanity more often than not since his rescue.

He knew he was definitely no prize at the moment, especially compared to a man like Howard Stark. However, the more time that he spent with her that day, the more it stung his pride that she didn’t recognize him as the man she gave her lighter and a kiss to last night. Not that he really wanted to be remembered as the sad sack who wanted to run away from his duty. But he felt a strange connection to Darcy and he wished it was the same for her.

He was probably just going crazy. He should be focused on working things out with Steve, not obsessing over some dame he’d just met who was already involved with a rich and powerful man. A man he realized by the end of their meeting that he genuinely liked.

Bucky left a couple of hours later with a promise from Stark to have a couple of custom rifles ready for him to test in a week or two.

Chapter Text

Howard, who had come in much earlier than usual this morning, had crashed out on the workshop couch after the last of Rogers’s team to consult about their gear left, Darcy took that opportunity to grab them a bite to eat before rousing Howard. She was weighing the odds of him wanting to start working again after his nap or if he was ready to get a good night’s sleep and start fresh in the morning.

“Miss Lewis?”

“Holy shit!” Darcy jumped what felt like a foot, before seeing Sergeant Barnes walk out of the shadows of the poorly lit corridor. She placed her hand over her pounding heart. “You almost scared me to death!”

He had a look on his face somewhere between horrified and amused. She supposed he wasn’t used to hearing women curse.

“Sorry. Pardon my language.Trying to work on that.”

He chuckled. “It’s not that. I just didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Then why are you lurking in dark hallways, huh?” She teasingly swatted at his arm. “I don’t think they’ll need to train you on sneaking around. You’ve got that down.”

His lips curled into a brief smile. “I apologize for startling you, ma’am. I was actually waiting for you. Do you have a minute?”

With her heart rate finally under control, she gave him an encouraging smile. “Sure. What can I do for you, Sarge?” He looked better today than he had last night. His uniform was perfect and his hair was neatly combed, but he still had the dark circles under his eyes and a vaguely haunted look about him.

He paused, looking unsure about how he wanted to phrase whatever he was about to say. Finally, he just asked, “Do you know who I am?”

And, boy, was that a loaded question. Of course, Darcy knew who he was. He was Bucky Barnes, Captain America’s best friend and comrade in arms, who would be killed in action in a few short years. But of course he wasn’t asking what she knew from the history books, because he hadn’t even made history yet. Instead she smiled warmly at him and told him, “Sure. You’re that nice soldier I met outside the pub last night.”

“I wasn’t sure if you’d recognize me.”

“You’d be a hard one to forget, Sarge.” And he was. Tall and broad shouldered, he filled out his uniform well. Not to mention the dark brown hair that looked like it tended to curl when it wasn’t combed back so severely and soulful steel blue eyes. He looked like some golden age movie star.

Barnes looked down the floor, embarrassment clearly written across his face and took a deep breath. “Yeah, I suppose a soldier crying on your shoulder about wanting to go home like a coward is hard to forget.”

Her heart broke at his words. “Hey,” she said softly, stepping closer and gasping his arm, squeezing it slightly until he met her eyes with a wary look. “That’s not what I meant. And I’ve found most soldiers have moments like you did last night. Only idiots and sadists look forward to going into battle.” He looked as if he didn’t quite believe her. After all he’d been through it was no wonder that his ego had taken a severe blow. SHe decided to see if she couldn’t build him back up a little.  “What I meant is you’re awfully handsome, Sergeant Barnes. So I certainly wouldn’t have forgotten you. I’m just glad I got to see you in the light of day.” 

The beginnings of a cocky grin tugged at his lips and she could just imagine what it looked like when he wasn’t so worn down. She didn’t doubt he was the lady killer the history books insinuated he had been. “Now, you’re just messing with me, Miss Lewis,” he said almost shyly.

“False modesty isn’t a good look for you, Barnes. You know you’re a pretty boy.”

“Boy?” he asked somewhat affronted, but the smile remained.

“Man, soldier, whatever you prefer,” she replied lightly. Despite his traumatic experiences weighing heavily on him, there was still a bit of soft boyishness in his face. She doubted it would last very long after he was sent back out into the field again. 

He nodded thoughtfully and the smirk disappeared. “I’m surprised you noticed. I was- a bit worse for wear last night. I just-” he huffed when he failed to find the right words. “Would you mind keeping last night under your hat? I don’t want Steve, uh, Captain Rogers to think that I don’t want to be here, that I don’t have his back. I was just having a weak moment.”

“That’s understandable after what you’ve been through recently.” He looked embarrassed again at her sympathetic tone. “I won’t say anything to anyone.”

“Thank you.” He met her eyes again with a small smile.

“And if you ever want someone to talk to who doesn’t expect you to be strong all the time, you know where to find me.”

He looked taken aback and a little uncomfortable by the offer. Talking out your feelings was probably not a thing for most men of his generation, even after they’d been through such a traumatic experience. And there was no way the army would send him to a therapist. They expected soldiers just to deal with it on their own unless they started causing problems. She imagined breaking down from what they called shellshock would be seen as pretty shameful. “I’ll be fine,” he said, lifting his chin with a hint of defiance.

“Of course you will, but the offer is always open.”

He nodded and pulled out the lighter she had given him from his pocket. “I should give this back to you. It looks like it might be expensive.” He held it out to her.

“I’ve got plenty of other lighters. Practically one for every outfit and I don’t even smoke. Keep it.” And it was true. When Howard outfitted her for life in the 1940s, he didn’t scrimp on the details. So many people smoked during this period, it was always useful to have a lighter in case someone needed a light like Barnes did last night.

“But-”

Darcy felt the urge to give Barnes whatever comfort she could in the short time he had left. Even if it was just a lighter, so she curled his fingers around it. “Keep it. It will give me some satisfaction to think you might be using it to light a fuse to blow up some Nazis.”

He gave a brief surprised laugh. “You’re something else, Miss Lewis. Thanks again.” He pocketed the lighter and turned around to walk back down the hall.

“Sarge,” Darcy called after him, unable to stifle a sudden urge. He stopped and turned back to her. “Can I hug you?”

He looked shocked at the question. “Huh?”

She closed the distance between them and told him, “I’m going to hug you.” Before he could protest, she wrapped her arms around his waist and he froze. She was about to release him, but then he wrapped his arms around her back and dipped his head into her neck. One of her hands reached to his head and stroked his hair and the other rubbed his back in soothing circles. He seemed to melt into her. “You’re not alone,” she whispered in his ear. She felt his chest heave as if  he was verging on sobbing. He squeezed her tightly before stepping back. 

His eyes were glassy with unshed tears as he told her, “Thank you, Miss Lewis.. Thank you for being so kind.”

“Anytime, Sarge. And I mean it.”

He jerked his head in a sharp nod before turning on his heel and hurrying away.

In that moment, Darcy understood what it meant to be cursed with knowledge. Bucky Barnes was going to die and she couldn’t do anything to stop it. Her heart ached for him. He was struggling with his own trauma and still willing to step up and fight at his friend’s side. She almost wished that he didn’t seem like such decent man. If he was a complete asshole it wouldn’t make her so sad to think of him dying when he had his whole life ahead of him.

“Are you alright?”

Darcy was pulled from her thoughts by Peggy approaching.

“Yeah.”

“Then why are you lurking in the corridor with the most peculiar look on your face?”

“Oh.” She pushed the dark thoughts away and offered a smile. “ I was just talking to Sergeant Barnes.”

Peggy’s look of concern changed to disapproval. “What did he say to you?” she asked, suspicion clear in her voice.

Darcy raised a questioning eyebrow. There was definitely a story there and she wanted to know it. “He was perfectly polite. What did he say to you?”

“He made a pass at me last night.”

She laughed remembering how fantastic Peggy looked when she had left for the pub last night. “I can’t blame him. If I’d had a couple drinks in me, I might have made a pass at you too,” Darcy told her with a flirtatious wink. “You were smokin’ in that red dress.”

Peggy gave her one of those long suffering eyerolls that she was so good at. “Yes, well that wouldn’t have been very professional either.”

Darcy wondered what kind of smooth line Barnes tried to use. “What did he say?”

“He asked me to dance.”

“What? That’s not a pass, Peggy.”

“He was very arrogant about it. Like he’d never had anyone to refuse him before.”

“Have you seen him? He probably hasn’t. I hear he’s a regular Fred Astaire on the dance floor too.” Or at least that’s what the history books led her to believe. She remembered more than one black and white photo of him dancing back in Brooklyn.

“I don’t care if he was actually Fred Astaire, he’s not-” Peggy closed her mouth abruptly, but Darcy still hear ‘He’s not the one I wanted to dance with’ still hanging in the air as if she had finished the sentence. “He seemed rather deep in his cups anyway,” she said dismissively instead.

Darcy laughed. “I knew there was a reason you changed into that sultry dress just to give Rogers a message.” She vaguely remembered some gossipy tidbits about Agent Carter having an affair with Captain America. But she had always figured that was about more people trying to undermine Peggy’s historical significance. But may be not.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Darcy.”

“Yeah, okay, Peg. Whatever you say. Your secret is safe with me.”

Colonel Phillips had given them all a couple of days of leave to rest and recover before their briefings and training were going to start next week. Monty had gone home to his wife. Denier had gone to make contact with the French refugee community to see if could could get any information on his friends, family, and resistance cell.  Dugan, Gabe, and Morita had gone out to that pub again.  They’d invited Bucky, but he wasn’t in the mood for company. Steve was no doubt swaggering about playing Captain America somewhere trying to impress Agent Carter. 

Bucky’s quarters in the SSR were the best he’d stayed in during his entire time in the Army, even stateside. He shared what was basically a nice hotel room with Dugan.They had a pair of twin beds with a nightstand in between them, a dresser, and chiffarobe and the furniture looked to be elegant antiques. They shared a connecting bathroom with Gabe and Jim’s room. He  couldn’t decide if the mattress was more comfortable than his back home or he was just so happy to have a mattress to sleep on after so long.

Earlier today, Bucky had come across a small library on the second floor and was happy to discover a copy of The Hobbit. He was reading it sprawled out on his bed with the radio on the nightstand playing BBC broadcast of an orchestra performing in a nightclub somewhere in London. 

Bucky hoped he would dream of hobbits and elves rather than red skulls and evil scientists. Or, the more lecherous part of his brain supplied, the arms of a beautiful brunette that gave wonderful hugs.

“Trust you to have already found the library, Buck”

He glanced up to see Steve standing awkwardly in his open doorway. “You coming to court martial me for pushing an officer down, Captain?”

“No. I came to apologize.”

“Oh, what for?” Bucky asked in an uninterested tone and his gaze slid back to his book. 

“You know what for.”

“Do I?” He wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easy. Steve had always been shit at apologies, because he never wanted to actually admit that he was ever wrong. Bucky was still raw and exhausted and didn’t feel like brushing away Steve’s miserable attempt at an apology.

“Buck…”

“I’m not a mind reader, Captain.”

Steve gave an irritated huff, then stepped fully into the room and stood over Bucky still lounging on his bed.. “Don’t call me that.”

He raised an eyebrow and his lips twisted into a bitter smile.”You want me to call you ‘sir’? Yes, sir. Captain Rogers, sir.”

“No, I want- Goddamn it, Buck!” Steve sat down heavily on Dugan’s bed and ran his hands through his hair. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. Then he  started talking in a low voice. “When I heard that you’d probably been captured all I think about was saving you. But I realize now that I had no real idea of what I might be saving you from.” Steve paused and looked up to meet Bucky’s eyes. His friend’s obvious sincerity had his attention now. He closed the book and sat up mirroring Steve’s position. 

“You’re right,” Steve continued. “I don’t have a clue about what you’ve been through, even before you were captured. When you shipped out, I knew you would be in danger, just like every other soldier over here. But I still didn’t really believe anything could happen to you. I know it’s stupid, but nothing ever seemed to effect you. I mean all the times you helped nurse me through the flu, pneumonia, just everything, you never even got a sniffle. I never even saw you lose a fight, not even when we were kids. I’ve always thought of you as indestructible.”

“Steve, I’m definitely not indestructible,” Bucky said feeling both exasperated and proud that Steve thought so much of him. The reason Steve never saw him with a cold was because if Bucky was sick he wouldn’t have dared go around him for fear of passing it along to his fragile friend. When Bucky started coming home bruised from brawls with neighborhood bullies his dad started teaching him how to fight back effectively and then when he got older he learned how to box. He was good at fighting, even if it wasn’t really a skill he was proud of. “And I’m the farthest thing from it now.”

“I know that,” Steve said, tapping the side of his head. “But it’s hard to believe. I’ve relied on your strength pretty much all my life, Buck. So much that I just don’t know what would have happened if  you weren’t there for me to lean on. I realize now that’s not fair to you. You’ve always been the strong one. Always taking on other people’s burdens without being asked and managing things to make life easier for everyone- me, Becca, your folks, and even Ma, especially at the end. I guess I never realized  that you didn’t have anyone to share your own burdens with. I’m sorry for that, Buck. I’m sorry I didn’t see past my own hero worship to see how much you’re hurting. I’m stronger now. You can let me help. You don’t have to do it all on your own.”

Bucky bit his lip and looked down. He wanted nothing more than to spill his guts about all the things that had been done to him and his fears of what he might turn into. The sense of foreboding that he’d been feeling. But just because Steve was physically stronger, didn’t mean he’d know what to do if Bucky allowed himself to fall apart. He knew it would eat Steve too. Besides, after so many years of bottling things up he didn’t even know if he could verbally express what was going on in his head to another person. Besides, Steve needed to focus on his own changes and the upcoming fight. Finally, he looked back up to his friend. “ Thank you, Steve. That means a lot.” He cleared his throat, trying to push away all the emotions that seemed to be caught there. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. I didn’t mean it.”

“Yeah, you did,” Steve smiled knowingly. “But that’s okay. It was the truth and I have been selfish. Lord knows you’ve dealt with enough of my ornery moods over the years. I can handle a few of yours. I want to try to be a better friend to you, Buck.”

“You’re my best friend, Steve. You saved me.”

“TIl the end of the line, right?”

Bucky nodded, feeling a little lighter knowing he and Steve were no longer at odds. It never set well with him when they fought.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” Steve asked cautiously.

Bucky just shook his head. “I’d just really like to forget.”

“I’m always here if you need to, okay?”

Chapter Text

“Hi, Peggy, you were looking for me?” Darcy entered the conference room she had been directed to. She looked around to see that the big table was filled with most of the members of Roger’s team. “Hey, guys!”

The men returned her greeting in mumbles and didn’t even bother to look up from whatever they were all concentrating on writing out. There were balls of wadded up paper that were obviously discarded attempts scattered across the table. Peggy walked over to her and Darcy asked, “What is this? Penmanship class?”

“Something like that. A bit of etiquette too.” Peggy pointed at the tea service laid out on the credenza. “Major Falsworth’s wife, Lady Violet has invited the team for tea in order to thank them and meet his new comrades. They’re writing out they’re replies.”

“Aw, that’s sweet.”

Peggy nodded and then got down to the business she had been looking for Darcy.

When Darcy made it back down to the workshop, Howard held out an envelope addressed to her in an elegant hand. “We’ve been invited to tea on Friday afternoon.”

She opened the envelope and scanned the enclosed note. People certainly didn’t compose invitations like this in her time. “Why am I invited? I didn’t help save those men.”

He grinned. “Didn’t you know? We’re lovers. The whole SSR thinks so.”

She rolled her eyes but said lightly, “News to me. Must not be worth remembering.”

“Ouch.” Howard clasped a hand over his heart. “You really know where to hit a guy where it hurts.”

“Your ego is not in your heart,” she teased back, poking him in the chest. “Maybe it’s just that Lady Violet understands that behind every mad genius there’s a woman trying to keep him on task and that it’s everyone’s interest to make nice with her.”

“You’re a slave driver, Miss Lewis.” He moved back to what he had been working on and looked up at her again. “Hurry up and compose your acceptance and I’m going to send ours over with a bag of sugar.”

“A bag of sugar?” Darcy wondered if that was some kind of slang she wasn’t familiar with.

Howard crossed her arms over his chest. “If I’m going to a fancy British tea party, then I want all the little cakes and candies that go with it. Rationing be damned. What’s the point otherwise?”

Darcy just laughed and shook her head as she dug out some Stark Industries stationary for her reply.  She was going to have to practice her cursive before writing it out. 21st century handwriting wasn’t half as nice looking as what people seemed to be taught in the early 20th century.

Maybe she would have to ask Peggy for some etiquette tips as well. She wasn’t sure if just relying on whatever knowledge she had gleaned from Downton Abbey and various other historical dramas about aristocratic tea parties would be wise.

At a quarter to 4:00, the team along with Agent Carter were gathered near 165 Eaton Place in the swanky neighborhood of Belgravia. They were all in full dress uniforms except for Dernier who looked like the sophisticated Frenchman he was in a sharp navy three piece suit and hat. 

Bucky’s gaze drifted along the line of white stucco townhouses lining the street. Sandbags were piled against the houses the same way they seemed be around every structure in London. After a few minutes his attention was pulled to a cab stopping in front of them.

Howard Stark  stepped out in a dark grey double breasted suit every inch the millionaire he was with his gold tie bar, cufflinks, and watch that flashed in sun as he held out his hand to assist Darcy in exiting the taxi. Bucky’s eyes were drawn to her silk stocking covered legs as she stepped out. He’d never seen her without trousers on before. 

And she had fantastic legs.  

Morita let out a piercing wolf whistle and exclaimed. “Wow, Stark! I had no idea Hedy Lamar was in town.”

“C’mon, Jim,” Darcy laughed.  “You don’t think I’d wear pants to a fancy tea party, do you?”

Darcy did look like a movie star though. She had on a cranberry wool coat with a wide mink collar and cuffs and a ridiculous little tilted hat the same color that had a couple rose colored ostrich feathers curling around the brim that just kissed her cheek. The dark red color of the coat made her look even paler than normal bringing out her rosy cheeks and the overtly femine attire made her seem almost delicate.

“You look beautiful.” It spilled out of Bucky’s mouth before he could stop it and he felt the heat of embarrassment rising up his neck.

Steve chuckled and clapped him on the back. “You ol’ charmer.”

Darcy turned to Bucky, blushing a little at the compliment. “Thank you, Sarge. I had to put in some effort around all you handsome gentlemen in your dashing uniforms.” She gestured to the group and they all definitely preened under her admiration.  “Look at you guys, all shiny brass and polished shoes. I feel like I’m supposed to be reviewing the troops or something.”

Promptly at 4pm, Steve knocked on the door and an ancient butler answered. He and a footman took the men’s hats, while Stark and Steve helped Darcy and Agent Carter out of their coats. The dress Darcy had on was a softly gathered silk the same rose as the feathers on her hat. On her left shoulder, she wore a silver brooch shaped like a kitten chasing a ball that was a dangling round garnet. He liked that as sophisticated as she looked, a bit of her normal irreverence shone through.

They were ushered into the drawing room and introduced to Monty’s family,  his wife- Lady Violet, his sister- Alice Lady Parr, and his mother the Dowager Lady Falsworth. His wife and sister were also in uniform. They were in the women’s part of the British Army, the Auxiliary Training Service. Monty’s mother was a severe looking woman in navy dress and long strand of pearls. She was coldly polite, but obvious in her disapproval of the Americans. Lady Violet and Lady Parr on the other hand were both warmly welcoming. 

Once everyone was settled with tea and refreshments, the nanny brought in the two Falsworth children, 7 year old Louise, known as Lala and 5 year old Georgie. They said a cute little thank you to the men for helping their father to come home. They were going to be ushered out again when Dugan protested and the rest of the team joined in. It had been a long time since any of them had seen the children in their own families back home or even any children at all.

Monty, his wife, and his sister all circulated and made polite conversation with everyone. Lady Violet was very charming with a bit of a wry sense of humor and made them all feel very welcome. Bucky found he liked her a great deal. Lady Parr on the other hand was a definite flirt and seemed to enjoy getting a rise out of all the guys when they were trying to be on their best behavior. Lady Falsworth on the other hand sat very erectly in her chair and waited for people to come to her. She was very correct in everything she said, but in every sentence there seemed to be a hidden insult.

Monty and Lady Violet  drifted over to chat with Darcy and Howard. 

“Mr. Stark, I wanted to especially thank you on our cook’s behalf for the sugar you sent.” Lady Violet told him. “I can’t tell you how supremely happy that made Mrs. Crawley.”

Monty grinned. “I think it’s the first time the old girl has smiled since 1939.”

“You’re very welcome. And please give Mrs. Crawley my compliments” Howard smiled in return and held up his plate full of macaroons. “These macaroons are worth any expense. They’re like eating crispy clouds of heaven. And when you run out of sugar, let me know. I own a sugar refinery in Georgia.”

“That’s most kind, but I’m sure the military has more need,” Lady Violet chided him gently. “Although I do thank you for the thought.”

They walked away to chat with someone else and Howard shoved a whole macaroon into his mouth  and chewed defiantly. “I feel like I’m in a Noel Coward play,” he grumbled quietly.

“And we’re definitely cast as the vulgar Americans.” Darcy took a sip of her tea, feeling a little intimidated, but determined not to show it. 

“Like the old dowager hasn’t poured half the sugar bowl in her cup and isn’t stuffing her face with cake.”

“She told me my dress looked “new”. What an insult.” Darcy knew the whole wartime “mend and make due” thing, but shouldn’t she show her respect for her hosts by wearing her best?

“Anything made after the Great War would be new to her," Howard said, then leaned in close and whispered in her ear. “Barnes keeps staring at your legs.”

“Let him stare,” she said with a grin. She’d already noticed Barnes’s eyes on her periodically. She cocked her hip a bit to display her legs to greater effect. “I’ve got great legs.”

Lady Parr walked over to them. “Don’t let Mother get to you. She doesn’t approve of anyone. Well, except for our older brother. She’s rather angry that Monty has stolen the spotlight from dear Lord Falsworth yet again,” she told them with a mischievous smile. “How dare he allow himself to be rescued by some overgrown American? She’d already brought out her mourning clothes.”

“I’m sorry?” Darcy coughed, choking a bit on her tea, more than a little shocked by how an actual aristocratic lady was talking about her family to strangers. Shouldn’t she have been all about keeping family secrets?

But Lady Parr just shrugged and continued on. “Monty’s made quite the habit of showing up our brother. It’s not seemly for the second son to be so much better at everything than the heir, you know. He even got a duke's daughter to fall in love and marry him.” She cast an eye to Lady Violet who was chatting with Peggy and Gabe.Then she turned back to them and winked. “It’s shocking, I know.”

“And do you show up your brother as well, Lady Parr?” Howard asked more than a little flirtatiously. 

“Oh, no. I’m so much worse. I’m a disappointment. I didn’t marry as advantageously as Mother would have liked. He may be titled, but the ancestral pile and the money are long gone.” She whispered conspiratorially, “He’s a writer.” 

“Oh, the horror!” Darcy exclaimed, feigning shock.

“Quite so. And before the war we were part of the fast set. Far too fashionable to be respectable.” Her eyes traced over Howard in unconcealed admiration. “You would have enjoyed our parties, Mr. Stark.”

“No doubt I would, Lady Parr,” he agreed with a charming smile.

Darcy began to feel like a third wheel and said, “Excuse me.” She didn’t begrudge Howard his flirtations, but she didn’t have to listen to them. She walked over to the refreshment table where Lala was eying the cakes. “Do you need help?” she asked.

The girl looked at her guiltily and shook her head. “No, ma’am.”

“Are you sure? I think I’m going to have another.”

She glanced over her shoulder at her grandmother, who was too focused on frowning at Dugan who was engaging her in a conversation she clearly didn’t want to have. Then she looked back at Darcy. “Please,” she whispered.

Darcy selected the cake with the most icing and put it on a plate before getting another for herself. She steered the girl to a settee that was a little out of the way. Lala ate about half her cake, before looking up at Darcy. “Are you a film star?”

“No. I’m Mr. Stark’s assistant.”

“Is he a film star?” She glanced at Howard who was still flirting with her aunt with renewed interest. No doubt he did look like a movie star in his flashy well cut suit surrounded by all the soldiers in their uniforms. 

“No, he’s a scientist.”

“He doesn’t look like a scientist.”

Which was true. Howard Stark didn’t fit the stereotypical scientist mold. “He’s not much for lab coats.”

Lala turned her focus back to Darcy. “You look like you’re from Hollywood. Mummy and Auntie used to wear pretty hats too. I miss pretty dresses,” she sighed.

“Well, I think your dress is very pretty. Like a princess,” Darcy told her. She was wearing a frothy pale blue dress that looked a little too big like it had once belonged to someone else. The mend and make due thing again.

Lala beamed at the compliment. “Nanny curled my hair. Grandmother doesn’t let her do it in the country. I have to wear braids, but they can’t be too Hunish or Grandmother won’t approve.” Darcy could imagine Lala with her hair pinned up with cute little Heidi braids and the old bat berating the poor nanny. 

“I used to wear my hair in braids when I was your age too.”

The little girl seemed to bloom under Darcy’s attention and continued chatting away. “I like your brooch. Auntie Alice has a parrot brooch with rubies and sapphires. I like kittens better than parrots though. The parrots at the zoo are too loud. Kittens are soft and I like to cuddle with them.” The girl proceeded to tell Darcy about the barn cats at Falsworth country estate and how her nanny taught her how to make bonnets for them with fabric scraps. 

Darcy took off her brooch and pinned it to the front of the girl’s dress.“Well, then I think you should have this more than me. I don’t actually have a cat. You sound like you do such a good job of taking care of them. You deserve a reward.”

She clasped her hands together in delight. “Oh, thank you, Miss Lewis! It’s the most beautiful thing anyone ever gave me.”

Darcy doubted that but smiled at her, happy to do a little something to brighten her life during the bleakness of war.  Lala prattled on happily about all sorts of things. Darcy’s eyes drifted about the room and caught on little Georgie talking to Rogers and Barnes. It sounded like he was asking Cap all sorts of questions about how much he could lift, how fast he could run, and how many Nazis he could kill with one punch. 

A laugh broke through the low murmur of conversations and her gaze along with everyone else’s was pulled to Barnes who was grinning with delight at that question in particular.  He ruffled the boy’s carefully combed hair affectionately. Darcy couldn’t help but be struck by the brilliance of Barnes’s smile. It was the first time she’d seen in person that movie star smile that she’d only seen black and white photos before. It seemed all that had happened to him in the war weighed so heavily on him since she’d met him that she had only seen a few tiny smiles from him. There was no denying that James Barnes was a handsome man even when he was all broody, but he was absolutely breathtaking with that carefree grin on his face.

Georgie apparently decided he could take down Captain America and all of a sudden kicked Rogers in the shin and punched him in the thigh, narrowly missing his groin. Barnes barked out another laugh and scooped the kid up. “Woah, there, cowboy!”  

Lala sighed heavily next to her and said with the air of a long suffering sister, “Georgie ruins everything.”

Nanny was quickly called back in and she relieved Barnes of his burden, before making her way towards Darcy. Lala stood and under the gimlet eye of Nanny did a quick curtsey and told her formally,” Thank you so much, Miss Lewis. I so enjoyed talking to you this afternoon. Please do visit us again very soon.”

“Thank you, Miss Falsworth. I enjoyed chatting with you too.” 

As they walked away, Jaques came and sat next to her and smiled, “That was very generous of you, Darcy.” 

Darcy shrugged. “It wasn’t a big deal. That pin was probably a little silly for a grown woman to wear anyway.”

“Not only that. But taking time with the girl and engaging with her. Children get overlooked in war.” He had a wistful look on his face and she wondered if he had family that he regretted not focussing more on somewhere in France. “So many things that seem more important on the mind.”

“That’s true. It’s got to be tough on kids.”

Jaques nodded and a tender smile crossed his face. “She reminds me of my daughter. Always an eye for a shiny bauble.”

“I didn’t know you had a daughter. Is she still in France?”

The smile fell from his face and he shook his head. “She and her mama were murdered by the Nazis. I fight for them and so other little girls have a chance to grow up.”

Darcy forced back the tears she felt threatening and reached for his hand. “I’m so sorry, Jaques.” She hadn’t known that Jaques Dernier had a family that had been killed in the war. All she remembered from history class was that he was an explosives expert in the French Resistance.

A short time later, Peggy started politely thanking Lady Violet and that was their cue that it was time to depart. They all gave their thanks and were ushered out into the entrance hall where the butler and a footman were waiting with their hats and coats. 

Once they were outside, Howard sighed heavily, “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I need a drink or three.”

“You buying?” Dugan asked. 

“Of course. I think we deserve it after all that formality.” He rolled his shoulders as if shaking off the tension of being on his best behaviour. He stepped over to Peggy and threw an affectionate arm around her shoulder. “No wonder you ran away and joined the army, Peg, if that’s the kind of life you well bred English girls are supposed to live.”

“Yes, well, I get my fair share of disapproval from the military as well.” Peggy shrugged off his arm. Physical displays of affection were not something she was overly fond of.

“They’re just jealous,” Rogers told her. “Don’t pay any attention to them.”

If Peggy wasn’t so good as schooling her features, Darcy thought she would have blushed under Captain Rogers obvious admiration. Instead she turned on her heel and started walking. “How about that drink now, gentlemen?”

Chapter Text

The next morning Darcy was surprised when Captain Rogers stopped her on her way back from dropping off some requisition forms with the supply officer. Rogers had been pretty standoffish since she had met him. He was always unfailingly polite, but he made no effort towards friendliness the way the rest of his team had. But at least he didn’t run away everytime he saw Darcy the way he did when he caught a glimpse of Lorraine. The look of terror in his eyes when he turned tail was pretty hilarious.

“Miss Lewis, can I have a word with you?”

“Sure. What’s up?” she replied, stopping in front of him. Rogers gave her a strange look and she had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Apparently, ‘what’s up’ wasn’t current slang. “What’s on your mind, Cap?” She tried instead.

“Could we talk in private?” He motioned her into an empty conference room. 

She followed him in, but couldn’t help teasing him when he closed the door, “Are you trying to seduce me, Captain?”

“No, ma’am! I would never!” He looked appalled at the thought and turned such a brilliant shade of red that she felt a little bad about teasing him. But there was something uptight about the man that made her really enjoy winding him up. She wondered if Steve Rogers took himself so seriously before he became Captain America. 

“Sorry. Just joking. How can I help?”

He studied her for a moment and it looked as if he was trying to decide if he actually wanted her help after all. “I don’t know if you’re aware or not, but Sergeant Barnes and I grew up together.”

“I had heard that,” she nodded encouragingly. 

“Well, the thing is Buck- er- the Sergeant has always been real keen on science and Mr. Stark’s inventions. He made us go to the Stark Expo the last night before he shipped out.”

“Seriously?” Darcy laughed in delighted shock. That tidbit had definitely not been in her school history books. “Who would have thought he was such a nerd?”

Rogers frowned as if she was insulting his friend. “I don’t know what you mean by that.”

“It’s a good thing. Trust me.” Wow, he was definitely a prickly guy and ready to see an insult in any off hand comment. It was not how she imagined Captain America to be like. And not at all how his best friend seemed to be in Darcy’s short acquaintance with him. “And what does your buddy’s science interests have to do with me?”

“Well, he’s been kind of down lately. Not himself, y’know?”

Talk about an understatement. The man had been through hell. Of course, he wasn’t himself. Ever since Barnes had poured out his fears to her outside that pub, Darcy felt more than a little protective of him. “I imagine being a POW will do that to you.”

Rogers again bristled at that, but continued anyway, “Yes, well, I’m not able to be around as much as I would like because of my new responsibilities and he tends to brood when he gets caught up in his head. I was wondering if it might be okay if Bucky could spend some time in Mr. Stark’s workshop. I promise he wouldn’t get in the way. He just likes to watch.”

Darcy quickly covered her mouth with her hand to cover her amused expression. She was sure Rogers didn’t mean that to sound as potentially dirty as it did and she didn’t want to wind him any tighter than he already was. Honestly, she was a little touched that he was trying to find a way to help his friend even though he wasn’t able to do as much personally as he would probably like to himself. She schooled her face into a concerned expression. “Sure. I’ll invite him down. Sergeant Barnes seems like a nice guy. And Howard loves nothing more than talking about himself to a new audience.”

He actually laughed at that and looked relieved. “Thank you. I appreciate it. Buck’s always looked after me and I want to try to do the same for him now. But could you please not tell him I asked you to do this. It would just make him contrary.”

She smiled and patted his arm. “Leave it to me.”

“Thank you, Miss Lewis,” he said earnestly with a warm smile and Darcy thought that was a much better look on him than the disapproving frown she’d mainly seen from him. Not that she would be inviting his friend to the workshop for Rogers’s smile, she was much more interested in Barnes’s smile and how much of a nerd he would prove to be.

"Howard,” Darcy began as she walked into the workshop. “Y'know, Captain America has kind of  a ridiculously large chip on his shoulder."

"He does rather, doesn't he?" a wry British voice replied, that was definitely not Howard Stark’s voice. “Not what one expects from the propaganda.”

"You're not Howard."

"Thankfully no." Monty smiled at her from where he was sitting on a stool at one of the large work tables obviously waiting. She didn’t quite understand how it was possible for someone to look so proper yet also lounge indolently. Monty Falsworth reminded her more than a bit of the actor David Niven. Most of his roles were of men with beautiful manners, but with a hint of rakish danger. She wondered if he had ever played Monty in one of those Howling Commando biopics. "But I was looking for Mr. Stark. I have a special delivery for him from Cook to show her undying appreciation." He pointed to a painted cookie tin next to him before he held out a rolled up piece of paper and an envelope to her. “This, however, is for you.” 

“Thanks.” Darcy took them and saw the envelope was addressed to her in a slightly childish hand. She opened it and found it was a thank you note from Lala for the cat brooch. Then she took the string off of the paper and unrolled it to find a watercolor painting of some frollicking cats in dresses and bonnets along the lines of Beatrix Potter or Wind in the Willows. It was really pretty good for a 7 year old. "That's fantastic! Did Lala make it?"

"Yes. She spent all evening on it."

"She's really talented!"

"I think so too.” The smile on his face was definitely one of a proud papa. “Thank you for being so kind to her yesterday, Darcy. She hasn't been terribly happy staying with Mother in the country."

"Were you?" It was out of her mouth before she could stop it, but thankfully Monty didn’t seem at all insulted. He just laughed.

"Not terribly, no. But it's safer than London for her and Georgie. Although I do worry that mother will end up crushing their spirits before it’s safe for them to come home again. Alice and I turned out so willful in her opinion, that I fear mother is even stricter with her grandchildren." 

Darcy thought it was yet another horrible choice wartime parents were forced to make, to keep their children physically safe from the Blitz in London that they were entrusted to unpleasant relatives in the country. Those poor kids would be scarred by the war in more ways than one. "Would it be okay if I write to her? I love being a vulgar American influence."

Monty chuckled. "Of course. She'd be delighted."

Darcy eventually found Sergeant Barnes in the courtyard. He was sitting on a little marble bench against the wall, chain smoking and staring vacantly into space. Yeah, Rogers wasn’t wrong, he definitely needed a distraction to get out of his own head and away from memories that were no doubt tormenting him. 

“Hey, Sarge!” she called cheerfully as she walked toward him. “You got a minute to give a lady a hand?”

His eyes instantly sharpened and focused on her. “Yes, ma’am.” He crushed out his cigarette and rose to his feet. “What do you need?”

“I need those big strong muscles of yours,” she smiled flirtatiously at him. “Howard just got a shipment of parts in. You mind helping me carry them down to the workshop?”

“Not at all.” He smiled back at her, his eyes losing most of the darkness that had been shadowing them a few moments earlier. He really did have a killer smile. She could just imagine the broken hearts he left in Brooklyn when he deployed. 

Darcy led him to the box waiting inside the doorway. She had gotten one of the lab techs to bring it up from the workshop for her ruse. The tech had given her a strange look, but didn’t question her. All the SSR lab techs and research assistants had learned early on that they were better off just doing what she said even if it didn’t make sense to them. They’d learned Miss Lewis was so much easier to deal with than Howard Stark himself. 

Barnes picked up the box and followed her down to Howard’s workshop and set it down where she indicated. 

“Thanks! I appreciate it, Sarge.”

“Anytime,” he replied distractedly as his eyes moved curiously over everything in the workshop. His hand reached out to touch a half disassembled machine on one of the benches, but apparently thought better of it and stuffed both his hands in his pockets to try to control his urge to touch.

Howard took that moment to pop his head from behind the machine he’d been working on in the far corner. “Where have you been?”

Barnes looked suddenly skittish and edged toward the door. “I should go.”

Darcy mentally cursed Howard for ruining her plans, but at the same time both Howard and Darcy yelled, “No! Stay!”

Barnes froze, looking for all the world like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar.

“Both of you, come here,” Howard ordered, waving them over to him.

Barnes still looked wary, but followed the order like a good soldier.

Howard wiped his greasy hands on a rag and pointed at Darcy, “Okay, I need your tiny little baby hands-”

“I do not have baby hands,” she retorted with playful indignance.

“Pardon me, Miss Lewis,” he gave her a mocking little bow. “I need your elegantly petite hands-”

“That’s better.”

Barnes turned his head, trying to hide his huff of laughter, before focusing back on Howard as he continued his instructions. “Barnes and I are going to hold up this top section and you need to reach in and connect the two red wires together. They’re going to be way in the back, but be careful not to dislodge the rest of the wiring.”

“Is that safe?” Barnes questioned, concern evident in his voice.

Darcy and Howard shared a look and couldn’t help but laugh. The science staff had pretty much stopped asking Howard those kinds of questions a while ago.

“It won’t explode and blow us up or anything if that’s what you’re worried about,” Howard told him.

“I was just worried about accidentally crushing Miss Lewis’s hands.”

She patted his arm with one of the hands he was worried about and grinned up at him. “Awww, that’s so sweet, Sarge. I’m glad someone around here is concerned about my elegantly petite hands.”

“I’m concerned!” Howard protested, but his teasing grin kind of ruined it. “Who would type up my reports then?”

Darcy shook her head and playfully slapped his shoulder. “See, Howard, this is why no one wants to work with us. I bet we won’t even be able to bribe Sergeant Barnes to come back down to help us out again.”

“Oh, no!” Barnes quickly interjected. “I’d be willing to help anytime you need it. I’d love to. I’ve always had a real interest in science and machines.”

His enthusiasm was apparent and Howard gave him a friendly clap on the back. “Good man. I knew I liked you, Barnes.”

And how ridiculously cute was it that Barnes was almost preening at Howard Stark’s approval?

She was happy that she didn’t have to try to bring Howard into her little ‘Distract Bucky Barnes with Science’ conspiracy and he’d just latched on to Barnes all on his own. It would have been a toss up as to if he would have actually helped or tried to thwart her plans for pure entertainment value.

Although it did take a couple more invented reasons for the sergeant to feel comfortable of his welcome and visit the workshop on his own to see if he might be of use. Even if he wasn't, he would hang around for a bit getting drawn into Darcy and Howard’s banter or listening attentively to whatever idea Howard felt like expounding on. He was smart and curious, along with being pretty laid back and good at diffusing things when Darcy or Howard’s tempers got a bit frayed with each other. He definitely fit into their dynamic well and Darcy and Howard both liked having him around. 

The other members of the team seemed to make more frequent visits to say ‘hi’ to Howard and Darcy and to check out what was going on in the workshop once they saw that the sergeant started spending more time there. Darcy wasn’t quite sure if it was because they were bored or they were checking up on how Barnes was doing. She’d caught concerned looks at him from both Dum Dum Dugan and Gabe Jones more than once. They were a good group of guys and started to feel like real friends

Chapter Text

Private Lorraine seemed to know where anyone in the SSR was at any given moment, so Bucky and Gabe made their way down to her desk as they were searching for wherever Steve had disappeared to. 

They found her chatting with Darcy. As always he couldn’t stop his eyes from being drawn to her. She was sitting on the corner of Lorraine’s desk and laughing at whatever her friend was saying.   She was wearing trousers as she almost always did around HQ. After spending time in Stark’s workshop, he definitely understood her preference. The tasks she performed for Stark didn’t always make wearing skirts and heels practical. Although there was a certain lecherous part of him he tried to ignore that was disappointed her beautiful legs were hidden from sight. Today, her outfit was a little dressier than normal. She was wearing a black pinstriped suit that should have looked very masculine except the vest and jacket were perfectly tailored to her curves. Instead of wearing a tie like a man, her lavender dress shirt was open at the throat and her ever-present gold locket drew his eyes down for a quick moment to admire exactly how well cut her vest was.

“Good evening, ladies.” Gabe greeted them and Bucky smiled and nodded his acknowledgement. “You seen Cap around lately?”

Darcy had that smile on her face that Bucky had learned meant she was ready to unleash some kind of mischief and told them, “Last I saw he was in the map room with Agent Carter.”

“Thanks, Miss Lewis!” Bucky replied before he and Gabe started to walk in the direction of the map room.

“Unless it’s an emergency, I wouldn’t go in there if I were you,” Lorraine called after them.

Bucky turned on his heel and was instantly suspicious when he saw the smirk on her face. “Why not?”

Lorraine and Darcy shared a knowing look and Darcy told them in an amused tone, “Let’s just say there’s some very intensely chaste cartography going on in there.” They all laughed at that. Everyone was well acquainted with the ‘intensely chaste’ and somewhat awkward flirting between Steve and Agent Carter. It had become a very entertaining spectator sport for the SSR.  “Seriously, Sarge, it’s like something out of a Regency novel.”

“Aren’t you named after a Regency novel, Miss Darcy?” Gabe asked with a cheeky grin.

“Indeed I am, Professor Jones.” Darcy clapped in delight. Bucky felt an irrational flare of jealousy at Gabe getting a reaction from her like that, especially since Bucky had no idea what they were referring to. “So I know what I’m talking about.”

“What did you need him for?” Lorraine asked no doubt wondering if it was something important enough for Agent Carter to be annoyed if there was a delay. Nobody wanted to get on Carter’s bad side. “Maybe we can slip a note under the door.”

“Nah, leave him be,” Bucky waved her concern away. It was about time Steve found a woman that was just as interested in him as he was her. Carter was a good match for him. He hoped her cool head might temper Steve’s penchant for recklessness. Lord knew Bucky tried, but maybe Steve’s desire for the lovely agent’s approval and respect might do the trick.  “He’ll enjoy ‘cartography’ with Agent Carter more than sitting in a smokey club with us.”

“We found a good little jazz club when we passed through before on the way to Italy,” Gabe clarified. “We thought we might go tonight. Would you ladies like to join us?”

“Thanks,” Lorraine said. “But I got a date tonight.”

“That means don’t expect Lord Bowler to join you,” Darcy put in.

Gabe just grinned and shrugged. “We didn’t invite him anyway. Dum Dum’s got horrible taste in music. What about you, Darcy?”

“It’s kind of a hole in the wall,” Bucky told her before she could respond. “I’m not sure if it’s your kind of joint.” He immediately regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. What was it about this dame that made him just blurt out whatever was on his mind, no matter how embarrassing or potentially insulting. What happened to all his smooth lines? Was he really turning into awkward little Steve?

“Oh, yeah?” She quirked an eyebrow and gave him a challenging look. ”And what do you think my kind of joint is, Sergeant Barnes?”

Stark had probably taken her out to ‘slum’ in a couple bohemian cafes in New York, but there was no way he’d taken her to a dive like the club they intended to go to. He was well aware that both Gabe and Lorraine were watching the exchange with interest, so he met Darcy’s eyes and started rattling off the swankiest nightclubs in New York, “The Copa, Stork Club, El Morocco, 21…”

Darcy rolled her eyes and hopped off the desk. “You don’t know me at all.” She picked up her black hat and set it on her head at a rakish angle over her elaborately curled hair. She strode over to Bucky and Gabe and grabbed an arm from each of them. “You know what? I think you two gentlemen might be handsome enough to tempt me to try something new.” She winked at Gabe and steered them toward the stairs.

“Why do I feel like I’m missing the joke?” Bucky complained, feeling yet again as if he was missing steps to a dance he should know well.

“You need to read more than pulps, Buck,” Gabe told him over Dacry’s head.

Lorraine’s laughter followed them, “Have fun, Darcy!”

“I intend to!” she called over her shoulder with a laugh and Bucky got the feeling he might be in more trouble than he thought.

Bucky knew he was a sulking and he knew sulking wasn’t an attractive quality in a grown man, but he couldn’t help it. All he wanted to do was listen to some music and have some laughs with a  pal and a pretty girl he was already friendly with. It should have been easy. It was the kind of thing he had done almost every weekend back home. But he’d already stuck his foot in his mouth with the girl, making him feel like an inexperienced kid and he just couldn’t shake it off. 

Not to mention the tiny basement club was jam packed with people elbow to elbow and he couldn’t help but think about the tiny cells Hydra had packed him and his fellow prisoners in. It made him antsy. He glared at Gabe who had gone to the bar to get their first round of drinks, but had been waylaid by two black soldiers that were so young they didn’t look old enough to even enlist. He seemed to know them and was now laughing and catching up with them. Their drinks were apparently forgotten. 

“Must be some friends from home,” Darcy commented from beside him at the tiny rickety table they were seated at.

Bucky grunted in acknowledgement. He needed a drink in the worst way, but the thought of pushing through the sea of bodies made his skin crawl. 

He was pulled from his increasingly irritated thoughts by a warm hand on his knee halting the impatient tapping of his foot. He turned his head and met Darcy’s bright blue eyes. She gave him a warm smile.

Sometimes he felt like Darcy was the only one that could see straight through him and the mess in his head. Maybe it was because she was the only one that seemed to be really looking. It felt like everyone else was afraid of what they would see if they looked too close.

She gave his knee a squeeze before hopping up. “I’m going to go grab our drinks.”

“Wait!” Bucky called after her, but she was already halfway across the room. What kind of stupid chump let a lady go to the bar to buy drinks for the table. He kept his eyes on her in case somebody hassled her. She’d drawn her fair share of admiring gazes when they’d walked in and he wouldn’t put it past some drunk soldier to try to get handsy with her. 

Darcy first went up to Gabe and his friends. Bucky could tell the moment he realized he’d forgotten their drinks. She seemed to wave his apology away with a smile and went to the bar. She got served pretty quickly, but instead of coming back to the table she went over to Gabe with what looked like four shot glasses of whiskey. She handed them to the three soldiers then held out her glass in a toast. Gabe held his up as well, but his buddies just stood there staring at Darcy like she was from the moon. No doubt they were shocked that not only did a white woman buy drinks for them, but was intending on drinking with them. That was probably not something that would have happened to them back home. He’d found Darcy treated most everyone as a friend, even if she just met them. It didn’t matter if they were an officer or enlisted, rich or poor, or what background they were from, so he wasn’t surprised. It just made him like her more and made him sad that her friendly gesture was so shocking to those young soldiers.

After the drinks were consumed, Darcy took the empty glasses back to the bar where the bartender poured out some more drinks for her. She started back to the table with three more shot glasses in one hand and two tumblers of what looked like more whiskey.

Bucky got to his feet and met her half way to relieve her of the glasses.

She pushed one of the tumblers toward him.”That’s supposedly scotch. And some very cheap whiskey,” she said, sliding two of the shots toward him. “You’ve got to catch up. I don’t want you to be left out.” She held up the other shot glass. “Cheers.”

He clinked his glass with hers and threw back the whiskey. He couldn’t help but wince as it was far from smooth going down. 

Bucky watched Darcy down the cheap whiskey like a man. “I guess I underestimated you, Miss Lewis.” He quickly drank his second shot.  

She shrugged, her smile falling a bit. “Everyone does. I’m used to it. But seriously, Sarge, this is not the first dive bar I’ve been to.” She took a sip of her scotch, “Or the worst booze I ever had to drink. Certainly not the best, but not the worst. You know, I’m not some delicate porcelain doll.”

“You’re pretty as one though.” She looked almost bashful at the compliment and her eyes dipped down to the glass in her hand. “But I’m coming to realize you’re a lot tougher than that.”

“Glad to hear it,” she looked back up at him, smiling again. “When are you going to start calling me ‘Darcy’ then?”

He’d been trying to keep things formal between them to remind himself she was unavailable, but he could see she was not going to stand on formalities. “When are you going to start calling me ‘Bucky’?”

“Does that mean we’re friends now, Bucky?”

“Well, Darcy, you know far too many of my secrets so we must be.”

“Good. I like making friends.” She beamed at him and patted his hand. It took a good bit of his willpower not to turn his hand over and grasp hers.

“You’re very good at it.” He liked how she never seemed to meet a stranger. He would never forget how kind she had been to him when he was falling apart outside that pub. “It’s not so easy for everybody.”

“You seem pretty good at making friends yourself. I don’t think you could have a more loyal friend than Captain Rogers and the rest of your team isn’t far behind. Not to mention Howard and me.” 

“I wasn’t exactly referring to myself.” Bucky had always had a knack for making friends, but it had never been so easy for Steve. “I meant Steve. I’m happy to see he’s been doing a better job of making friends at the SSR.”

“What is his deal anyway?”

The way she said it made him wonder about the interactions she’s had with Steve. Bucky was quite familiar with his frequent lack of tact, especially when talking to women. “He giving you a hard time?”

“No, he’s pretty polite, but he does seem to take offense at the littlest thing.”

Bucky nodded. “I guess it’s a hard habit to break. He’s got an impressive new body, but inside he’s still a little sickly kid expecting to be bullied at every turn. And he’s never been very good at talking to beautiful dames.” He layed that line on particularly thick and got the laugh he was going for. “I guess you could say he’s always had a bit of a Napoleon complex.”

“Did you know that Napoleon wasn’t actually short? He was average height for his time. The short thing was just British propaganda.”

“Guess you shouldn’t believe the propaganda about Captain America either.”

“That’s true.”

“Do me a favor, Darcy? Try not to be too hard on him. Steve’s the best man I know even if he isn’t so good at expressing himself sometimes. He needs some friends that don’t care if he’s Captain America or not.” Steve could definitely use a friend like Darcy in his corner.

“Maybe you could encourage him to unbend a little. Dude’s super uptight.”

He huffed out a laugh. She had such a strange way of phrasing things sometimes. “Trust me. It’s been a lifelong project.”

Soon after, Gabe came back with more drinks and apologized for abandoning them. The young soldiers were two of his former students. Gabe taught school back in his hometown of Macon, Georgia and they’d been in one of his first classes after he’d graduated from Howard. That got him telling Darcy and Bucky some entertaining stories about his students in the few minutes before the band started.

The band was really good and she enjoyed them, especially when the singer got to sing a couple of sultry torch songs. She had a real Billie Holiday vibe.

When the band took a break, Gabe told them, “You know, this right here is why I’m fighting this war.”

Bucky’s lips quirked up. “Degenerate music?”

“Well, that too.” He gestured around the room, “But look around at all the different kinds of people here from all different kinds of backgrounds all sitting together enjoying some music. You know that’s rare even in the States. Most places I wouldn’t even be able to sit with you and Darcy.” 

Racism was far from a thing of the past in 2013, but she was always shocked and disturbed when she encountered the pervasive and overt racism from all corners of society in the 1940s. Darcy had a lot of thoughts about that, but she held her tongue curious about what Bucky would say.

Bucky reached around behind her and gave Gabe an affectionate pat on the shoulder and told him sincerely, “You always have a seat at any table I’m sitting at, pal, or I won’t be there either. It’s a damned shame in this day and age. I hate that some people back home are no better than the people we’re fighting. Hopefully, the war will change things back home too.”

“I hope so too, Buck. I hope my kids won’t have to deal with everything I’ve had to and I’ve been luckier than most.” Gabe was college educated, but he still lived in the deep South. When he’d enlisted, he’d been assigned to one of the first experimental integrated units in the Army and she couldn’t imagine that was an easy position for a black man to be in. Although, he didn’t seem to want to dwell on those thoughts and changed the subject, “Speaking of degenerate music, if Nazis have outlawed jazz, what do they just listen to? Nothing but Wagner?”

Bucky chuckled, “Must be why they’re so angry all the time.”

That reminded Darcy of the movie Swing Kids and said, “Did you know there are groups of young people in Germany that are trying to resist the Nazis through jazz and swing? They smuggle American records and hold underground dances. They call them Swing Kids. Instead of  ‘Sieg Heil’ they say ‘Swing Heil’. They risk their life for the freedom to listen to ‘degenerate’ music.”

“We’re fighting for those kids too,” Bucky said definitively.

“Swing Heil. I like that.” Gabe nodded in agreement. “What kind of music do you like, Darcy?”

She suddenly realized that she should have boned up more on authentic swing music of the era in addition to watching a bunch of movies. The swing nights she’d gone to played a lot of neo-swing and electro-swing music along with old school big band music. She enjoyed it all, but couldn’t really speak knowledgeably about 1940s music. She’d been more interested in dancing than what band played what. She couldn’t really tell Bucky and Gabe how much she liked Big Bad Voodoo Daddy, the Puppini Sisters, and Postmodern Jukebox.

“Frank Sinatra,” she said, knowing his early career started before World War II, even though she preferred his later music. “Bing Crosby,” she added. White Christmas was her favorite Christmas movie after all.

“Ah, crooners,” Bucky said somewhat dismissively.

“You make that sound like a bad thing,” she responded a little tartly.

“No, nothing wrong with a couple of slow numbers to give you a chance to cuddle up with your girl.” She figured the guy history had painted as a renowned ladies man wouldn’t be completely adverse to romantic songs.

“I still sense disapproval.”

“Ignore him, Darcy.” Gabe reached around her and smacked Bucky’s arm. “Nothing wrong with crooners. Bucky just likes showing off on the dance floor and he can’t do that on the slow songs.”

She eyed Bucky. Yeah, she would bet he was a bit of a show off. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those guys flinging women over their shoulders and stuff.”

“You make that sound like a bad thing.”

She rolled her eyes at the way he threw her earlier words back at her. “Sorry. I wouldn’t trust some strange dude on the dance floor to throw me over his arm and not drop me.”

“We should go dancing sometime.” A slow sinful smile spread across his face. “I’d treat you right, sweetheart.”

“Oh, brother. Here we go.”

She distantly heard what Gabe had said, but she was transfixed by Bucky’s tongue licking his bottom lip, slowly tracing across it in a move that wasn’t suggestive at all. For a moment all she could think about was biting that plump lip. “Oh, wow. There’s that guy I heard so much about.”

“What? What have you heard?” HIs tone was low and sultry and his intense blue eyes seemed to pin her in place. 

“That you’re a huge flirt.”

“Who told you that?” A wider smile threatened to crack his lover boy act. 

“One hears things,” she replied primly, taking a sip of her scotch. “Are you going to tell me it’s not true?”

By that point Gabe was laughing at them both. “It’s true. Don’t even try to lie, Buck. She’s got your number.”

Bucky just grinned. “C’mon, Gabe, you got no room to talk.”

“I’m not denying it.”

“Don’t let him fool you, Darce,” Bucky pointed at Gabe. “The upstanding school teacher bit is just a front. He may be playing piano in church on Sunday morning, but what he won’t tell you is he was out all night Friday and Saturday sitting in the band at a juke joint and dancing and flirting with all the pretty girls. Even the married ones.”

“Aww, Buck, don’t say stuff like that when those boys from home are still around,” he laughingly protested looking around for them. “Momma would skin me alive if she heard.”

“That don’t stop you from doing it though, does it?” 

Darcy giggled, enjoying the way Bucky and Gabe ribbed each other. She was glad Bucky had managed to loosen up and relax once he’d had a few drinks. They were both fun to hang out with. “We should all go out dancing before you head out into the field again. I want to see you guys in action.”

Bucky gave her a speculative look. “You like dancing?”

“Sure.”

“What’s your favorite song to swing out to?”

Well, she couldn’t tell him it was You, Me, and a Bottle Make 3 , a song that would’t be written until the 1990s, so she went with her second favorite, “ In the Mood .”

Bucky nodded in approval. “Glen Miller. One of my favorites too.”

Bucky came back to the table with a fresh round of drinks. When he set Gabe’s glass down, he kicked Bucky’s ankle and gestured with his head to the crowded dance floor before his eyes cut over to Darcy. Bucky glared at him, but he knew he’d be jerk if he didn’t ask her to dance. It was only polite to ask a lady in your party to dance at least once and he doubted someone else would ask her while she was sitting with them. 

It was a little more of a delicate matter for Gabe to ask Darcy. He had no doubt Darcy would agree, but Gabe was always careful about what kind of crowd he was in. He didn’t want trouble if some yahoo got upset at a ‘mixed’ couple dancing together. He hoped that would be something Gabe wouldn’t have to worry about one day.

And it wasn’t like Bucky didn’t want to dance with Darcy. The problem was that he did. Too much. He was self aware enough to realize he had a bit of a crush on her. His head was a mess as it was and he didn’t need to add pining after an unavailable woman to his problems.The feel of her hugging him the other day was seared into his memory. He could imagine how good she would feel dancing cheek to cheek and he didn’t want to add fuel to the fire.

But asking her to dance was the polite thing to do.

“I think I owe you a dance,” Bucky held out his hand to her.

She pulled her eyes from the band and raised her eyebrow at his rather unenthusiastic tone, but she put her hand in his and rose to her feet. “You think you can dance to this or is it too slow?”

He didn’t bother to respond. He led her to the edge of the small dance floor, so they wouldn’t be in the middle of the crowd. He tried to keep a respectable distance between them although the press of the other couples around them didn’t allow for that and pushed them closer together. Darcy felt just as good in his arms as he imagined she would. And her perfume was just intoxicating, making him want to dip his face into her neck.

He cleared his throat. He figured talking would be better than paying attention to all the inappropriate ideas in his head. “I like plenty of slower songs. I just can’t stand all those schmaltzy sentimental songs about waiting for a lost love that have been so popular since the war started. They’re depressing.”

“Hits a little close to home?”

“More like they hit right dead center bullseye. I’d like to shoot the people that wrote I’ll Be Seeing You and The White Cliffs of Dover and the rest of that nonsense.” He sounded angrier than he meant to. 

“So noted,” Darcy’s breath was warm on his neck as she laughed and he had to fight the shiver it sent down his spine. “You got a girl back home?”

“No, thank God,” Bucky scoffed at the thought of tying down some poor girl he’s taken out a couple of times with a wedding band like so many soldiers had done before they shipped out. “I can’t imagine asking someone to wait around for years to see if I’ll survive this thing and if I do, I won't be the same man that left. I already know that for a fact. It’s a dirty scam if you ask me.”

“You’re right. That is depressing.”

“Thank you!” He pulled back for a brief moment and met her eyes. “Steve likes those songs, but he’s also the idiot that thought going off to war was noble and romantic.”

She huffed out another laugh. “That explains so much.”

Bucky and Gabe walked Darcy back to her hotel, Claridge’s, a ritzy place in Mayfair not far from SSR headquarters. They saw her safely into the lobby and she hugged them both. 

“Thank you for inviting me. I had a great time,” she said with a tired smile. 

It was after 1 AM and Bucky wondered if Stark might be upset with her staying out so late with two other men. He’d never witnessed Stark express any sort of jealousy at Darcy’s friendships with the opposite sex at HQ and Darcy was someone who was fairly physically affectionate with her friends. However, you never knew what went on with a couple behind closed doors. Bucky hoped Stark wouldn’t give her a hard time. 

“We did too,” Gabe told her. “We’ll get a group together and all go out dancing soon.”

“Can’t wait,” she replied, before she yawned so big Bucky could hear her jaw crack. 

“Good night, Darcy,” he said, watching her walk through the lobby and greet the night manager at the front desk by name. She gave them a final tired wave from the elevator before the operator closed the door and she disappeared from view.

As soon as they stepped outside, Bucky knew he was in for it.

“What the hell, Buck?” Gabe smacked him on the arm as they walked away from the hotel. “What is going on with you and Darcy?”

“What are you talking about?” He decided acting clueless would be the best tact, hoping against hope that Gabe wouldn’t try to dig too deep.

“What am I- Nope. You know what I’m talking about. You start off the night acting like some bumbling kid with their first crush, brooding and sticking your foot in your mouth everytime you speak to her. Then you turn on a dime and start laying all those slick lines on her, looking at her like you could eat her up and then she starts looking at you like she would let you.”  

“She did?” He’d been teasing her, not really serious about the seductive moves he used when he was trying to reel a woman in for more. He thought there had a been a moment when she looked very willing to take the bait, but he had dismissed it as Darcy playing the same game back at him.

“Not the point, Buck! And that dance. I could feel the tension across the room. I’m sorry I suggested it. Is this how you act when you really like a girl? Running hot and cold?”

“No,” Bucky said with certainty. He hadn’t been that awkward with a girl since he was 15. “There’s just something about Darcy that makes me so mixed up.” He stopped walking and yanked off his hat and ran a hand through his hair, tugging on the ends a bit as if it would help straighten out the tangle inside his head too. “And I already feel like I’m going crazy after-” He cut himself off, afraid that he would give voice to his fears that were never far from his mind. He started back down the sidewalk. “I’m barely keeping myself together. I don’t have the energy to show a girl a good time. You shouldn’t have invited her, Gabe. 

“I’m sorry, Buck. I thought it’d be good for you. Darcy’s fun and you haven’t been quite so grim since you started spending time with her and Stark.”

“She is fun. And smart. And pretty. And she’s been really nice to me when I’ve needed that more than anything.” He gripped her lighter in his pocket and sighed heavily. “Guess that’s what’s got me so sweet on her. I’ll get over it. Who am I compared to Howard Stark?” He pulled the lighter out and his cigarettes from his other pocket.

Gabe studied him as he lit one and took a long drag. The feel of his friend’s eyes on him made Bucky want to run away and hide. Instead, he focused on the dark street ahead and continued the steady pace toward HQ. 

“You know we got your back, right, Sarge?” Gave asked quietly and so earnestly it was almost painful to hear. “The whole team. We were all in that hellhole together. We know what you went through better than anyone. We’re here for whatever you need from us.”

He knew Gabe and Dum Dum were especially keeping an eye on him. He knew they were worried about him. They were the only survivors from Bucky’s squad after the Hydra attack and imprisonment. More than once, Dugan had talked Bucky down after waking from a nightmare in their shared quarters, but never mentioned it in the light of day. “I know. And I appreciate it, Gabe. I promise I won’t let you fellas down out there. I just need some time.”

“Bucky, we’re not worried about you letting us down. That could never happen. You’re the best sergeant in any outfit in the whole damn army. I’ll never forget how you looked out for me when I first got assigned to the 107th. You never treated me differently than any other soldier and you made me feel like I belonged in your squad. I’m here for you, Buck. Anything you need.”

Bucky took a sudden interest in the buildings across the street, because he couldn’t control the expression on his face or the tears welling in his eyes. “C’mon, Gabe, don’t get all mushy on me.” He tried to laugh, but just came out a little broken. ”I just don’t like bullies is all.”

“Okay, Sarge. Whatever you say,” he sighed in resignation. Bucky felt bad for brushing him off, but he couldn’t afford to do anything else. He had to keep himself together.

They walked a while longer, before Gabe spoke again. “Just promise me, you won’t start running away from Darcy the way Cap does from Lorraine, okay? It makes me feel embarrassed and I’m not even involved.”

Bucky barked out a surprised laugh. “Oh, God, Stevie! Not even science can fix some things. You have my permission to sock me if I ever act like that.”

Gabe nudged him as they walked side by side. “Just be careful, Buck. Love triangles never end well.”

“It will never come to that,” he declared, but he’d never felt so out of control of his life before.    

Chapter Text

Steve didn’t even notice Bucky leaning in the doorway of his office. So much for super soldier enhanced senses , Bucky thought to himself. At least when they were up to their ears in Army manuals. The entire surface of Steve’s desk was covered in manuals, books, and file folders. There was even a precarious pile in the chair in front of the desk. Bucky hadn’t actually seen much of his friend since they’d gotten to London. Given that Steve had only about two weeks of basic training before he got the serum, Phillips, Carter, and Monty were putting him through what amounted to a crash course of officer training and tactics while the rest of their team were debriefed and given time to recover from their imprisonment. 

Bucky took a bite from one of the apples he had sweet-talked out of a girl in the kitchen. At the crunch, Steve’s eyes shot up from whatever manual he had his nose buried in. Before his friend could even utter a greeting, Bucky lobbed a second apple at his head. Quick as lightning, Steve reached up and caught it before it beaned him in the forehead. 

”Huh, how about that?” Bucky grinned, impressed by Steve’s new and improved reflexes. If it would have happened before, Steve would have completely missed the catch and ended up knocked out on the floor. “Becca might even pick you to be on her team these days.” The bonds of friendship and family had meant nothing to Bucky’s sister, Becca, when it came to picking teams for ball games with the neighborhood kids. As much as Steve was like a brother to her and she had normally doted on him, she was cutthroat when it came to baseball and had not picked him for her team a single time during their childhood. Sometimes she didn’t even pick Bucky if she thought there was a better option and he was a good player himself. Hurt feelings had no place in baseball according to Becca Barnes.

Steve looked a little embarrassed at the mention of Becca. Their relationship had been strained the last couple of years. She hadn’t approved of Steve’s overwhelming desire to enlist despite being 4F. She had been afraid Steve would persuade Bucky to enlist before he had been drafted. Steve also hadn’t approved of the man she had decided to marry and move to Indiana with. There had been a time that Bucky had sort of hoped Steve and Becca might make a go of it, but it had probably been for the best. They were both beyond hardheaded and had explosive tempers that he doubted even love could have cooled. 

Steve stared down at the apple in his hand. Bucky could read the expressions flicking across his face as well as ever, so he was ready when Steve threw it back at him and he caught it easily, despite it being an excellent curveball.

It was Steve’s turn to grin. “You still got it, Buck.”

Bucky tossed the apple back to him. “But you got a little something extra now, pal. Damn.” He shook his hand out trying to get rid of the sting in his palm from Steve’s powerful throw. 

Steve smiled even wider and polished the apple on the sleeve of his uniform jacket before taking a bite.

Bucky went over to the chair and moved the pile of books to the floor. He sat down and propped his feet up on the corner of the desk. “So, I hear you were behind closed doors with Agent Carter all night,” he said conversationally, picking up a manual from one of the stacks pretending to be interested in its contents.

Steve turned as red as the apple in his hand and started stammering, “I would never- Agent Carter would never-” He glared at Bucky who hid his amusement by taking another bite of his apple. “It wasn’t all night. And we were working. We were going over battlelines and troop movements and possible Hydra locations.”

“Of course, I believe you, Steve,” he replied. When he saw his friend relax, he went in for the kill, “Even after the stories you told me about what you got up to with those USO girls.”
The glare was back and it just made Bucky laugh. He was so easy to wind up and, boy, did Steve give him some serious ammo when he told him what happened during the USO tour. Not that Bucky wasn’t glad Steve finally got to sow some wild oats. 

“I wish I had never told you about that. Besides, Peggy’s not that kind of girl.” Steve bit into his apple still glaring. After he swallowed the piece, he asked, “Where were you last night? I went by your room and both you and Dugan were gone.”

“Dum Dum had a date with Private Lorraine.”

“Thank God!”

Bucky chuckled. “That mean you gonna stop running from her?”

“I do not-” Steve started to protest, but stopped at Bucky’s raised eyebrow knowing he was about to utter a flat out lie. Instead, he settled on, “I hope they’ll be very happy together.”  

“I don’t think it’s serious.”

“Still, better him than me. You have a date too?”

“Nah, Gabe and I went to a jazz club.” He deliberately left out Darcy’s presence. Steve knew him well enough to know when Bucky was sweet on a girl if he was paying attention. And he didn’t want Steve to start paying attention, because he loved to tease Bucky when the rare girl wasn’t as interested in him as he was her. “We were going to invite you, but you were cloistered away with Agent Carter.”

“How was it?”

“Good band. You would probably have hated the club though. One of those crowded smokey basement dives.” That kind of place would have set Steve into a coughing fit before.

“Still sorry I missed you fellas,” Steve said regretfully. “It would have been nice to go out with you.”

"Gabe wants to get a group together to go to a dance hall soon.” Steve’s frown at the thought of a night of dancing, made Bucky roll his eyes. “If you can catch an apple flying at your head now, you ought to be able to at least manage a foxtrot without tripping over your feet. I can give you a refresher course if you want.” Steve knew how to dance. He just hadn’t been very good despite all the hours spent practicing with Bucky and Becca, especially when he had to dance with a girl in public. He was a nervous wreck every time. “Think of it as a test of changes from the serum.”

“We’ll see,” he said unenthusiastically.

“I’ll make sure Carter’s invited,” Bucky teased.

“You’ve been spending a lot of time in Stark’s workshop,” Steve said, not so subtly changing the subject and Bucky decided to let him get away with it. He didn’t want to needle Steve too much about Carter. She was the first woman Steve had ever been so completely gone over and she, despite her icy reserve and bossy attitude, seemed completely gone over Steve too.

“Yeah, it’s fascinating stuff. Stark don’t seem to mind me down there.”

“Good.” Steve gave him a pleased smile “You ask him about that flying car that didn’t fly yet?”

Bucky chuckled, remembering his delight when the car had lifted off and then his disappointment when it crashed back down. That night had also been the last time he'd seen ‘his’ Steve too. He pushed the twinge of sadness he felt away. He needed to get to know this ‘new’ and supposedly improved Steve as much as Steve needed to get to know the ‘new’ and definitely not improved version of Bucky. 

“No. I’m trying not to pester him with too many questions. He likes to talk about what he’s working on anyway. I’m learning a lot.” It made Bucky wish he’d gotten to go to college like he had wanted to. Maybe if he had, he would be an engineer using his brain to fight the war and not a gun. Steve had never understood that there were more ways to contribute to the war effort than laying your life on the line. People like Stark and Darcy were needed just as much as men with guns. “That reminds me, be nice to Darcy.”

“Miss Lewis? What did I do?” Steve blanched and looked distinctly uncomfortable. The look told Bucky that he’d had at least one awkward encounter with her.

“Knowing you, probably taking something she said the wrong way and then getting all high handed.”

“She’s very- informal,” Steve said cautiously.

That was true. Bucky liked that about her, but he knew Steve felt like strangers often didn’t take him seriously and that made him automatically defensive. Many times he would take good natured joking as someone trying to mock him. 

“She jokes around a lot. Don’t get all huffy if she teases you. She’s not being mean. That’s just her way. She’s fun once you get to know her.”

“If you say so,” he conceded somewhat reluctantly.

“I mean it, Steve. She’s a real nice lady.”

Steve nodded and then shot him a cheeky grin. “She’d have to be to put up with Stark.”

Bucky hadn’t come down to the workshop that day. When Darcy took a late afternoon break to get a snack, she took a circuitous route back to the workshop while keeping an eye out for a certain sergeant. She refused to examine why she missed him too closely, because she definitely would not be breaking the first rule of time travel by allowing herself to get too involved with Bucky Barnes. No way. No matter how good it felt to dance pressed up close to him.

She ended up finding him sitting on that little marble bench in the courtyard again hunched over with his elbows resting on his knees reading a book and a cigarette between his lips.

“How’s it going, Sarge?” she called out as she approached.

Bucky glanced up from his book and the corner of his mouth turned up slightly when he saw her. “Got something you want me to lug around?”

She huffed in mock indignation and flopped down next to him, not that she had much room. Bucky tended to be a manspreader, but he politely scooted over and made room for her on the bench. He leaned back against the wall and stretched his long legs out before him. “You make it sound like I just expect you to be a pack mule,” she teased, but at the same time trying to feel him out. She hoped she hadn’t been too pushy in trying to get him to spend time in the workshop. “I thought you enjoyed being around all the sciencing, Bucky.”

He raised a questioning eyebrow, but she could tell he was having a hard time keeping a straight face. “Sciencing?”

“It’s a technical term.”

“I see,” he said, his smile growing a little wider. “In that case, I do enjoy being around ‘the sciencing’.”

“You know you’re welcome to hang out in Howard’s workshop whenever you want. He likes you.”

“I appreciate that.” He took one final drag off of his cigarette before tossing into the slightly rusted can beside the bench.

Darcy shivered slightly wishing she’d grabbed her coat before walking outside. “You seem to spend a lot of time sitting out here. Don’t you get cold?”

He shrugged. “I don’t mind. Kind of reminds me of home.”

“The cold?”

“The motorpool.” He pointed to the men working under the hood of a truck across the courtyard from them. “I was a mechanic back home.”

“Oh, yeah?” She got an image of Bucky in her head in a white t-shirt with a pack of cigarettes rolled up in his sleeve and dark jeans with wide cuffs rolled up over motorcycle boots, even though that was a 50s cliche and probably nothing at all like he wore to work. It definitely would be a good look for him. “I guess that explains why you’re so interested in how everything works. I bet you were a good one too.” Both she and Howard had noticed that he seemed to have a knack for intuitively understanding how things went together. 

A cocky little grin lit up his face. “I’m a great mechanic. I worked in a garage in Manhattan that specialized in swanky custom cars like Packards and Duesenbergs. My boss had just started a side business building racing engines right before Pearl Harbor. I was really looking forward to getting in on that.” Then he added a bit wistfully, “Maybe after the war we can get back to it.”

“You’d think since you had such great skills as a mechanic the army would have assigned you to the motorpool instead of the infantry.”

“That would have been nice, but there’s probably an excess of mechanics in the army now what with the draft.”

“And not enough sharpshooters like you.” He just shrugged in response, seeming to take no pride in his skill with a gun. “What did Captain Rogers do before the war?”

Bucky snorted. “You mean other than getting beat up in alleyways?” Exasperation colored his voice at the number of times he’d probably found Steve in that situation and then he smiled again. “He was an illustrator. With his bad health he didn’t work too regularly, but when he was well enough he picked up work in advertising and magazines.”

“That’s really cool. I didn’t know that.” Darcy couldn’t recall the fact that Steve Rogers was an artist before he became Captain America ever being mentioned in her history classes. She wondered if she’d ever seen any of his art, since she’d always enjoyed looking at vintage ads and illustrations, especially the lurid pulp magazine covers.

“Yeah, he’s a great artist. I hope he’ll be able to go back to it.” Bucky’s smile dimmed a bit, likely wondering if the government would let his friend go back to being plain Steve Rogers who produced art for a living. But Darcy knew that Steve would never get the chance. He would be frozen in ice before the end of the war and then wake up 70 years later and fight off an alien invasion as an Avenger. She was pulled from her thoughts when Bucky’s attention shifted to her. “What did you do before the war? Did you work for Stark then too?”

“No, I’ve only been working for Howard since the beginning of the year. Before that I worked for an astrophysicist, Doctor Jane Foster,” she told him, keeping to her cover story. That part was completely true and she didn’t really want to lie to a friend anymore than she had to, especially about someone who was as important to her as Jane is. “She’s my best friend too. I miss her.”

“Then why are you over here? Why don’t you go back home?”

Darcy fiddled with the locket around her neck that contained Jane’s photo and used to hide the microfilm of Jane’s device. She took a deep breath, trying to force away the tears that threatened. “She’s gone.” She couldn’t bring herself to say that Jane was dead. Even if she wasn’t alive in 1943, Darcy hoped that she was safe in 2013.

She felt a warm hand enclose hers. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

“It’s okay.” She looked up at him and met Bucky’s eyes, so warm and sympathetic. She felt all the emotions that she had been suppressing since she’d been thrown back in time start to well up. She missed Jane, Thor, and  Eric. She missed Tony, Pepper, and Bruce. She missed Natasha and Rhodey even though she didn’t know them that well. She really didn’t want to start crying all over Bucky. He had his own shit to deal with. “I miss her, but I’ve just got to keep moving forward, y’know?”

He squeezed her hand. “I know.”

Darcy felt like she had to keep focused on getting to 1945 when she would be able to go back home to the 21st century. She was afraid if she didn’t keep focused on that end goal, she might never make it back. She’d made friends here in this time, but she tried to keep most of them at arm’s length. She didn’t want to affect the timeline, but she also didn’t want the pain of leaving people she cared deeply about when she went back to the future. Howard was her only real confidant and he had been a great friend. He tried to help her the best he could, but he was also a man that closely guarded his own feelings and didn’t always get how to help other people with theirs. Usually his idea of comfort was throwing extravagant gifts at the person or getting them drunk. Besides, she didn’t like to burden him. Howard had already done so much for her and he had enough stress in his life without dealing with her homesickness.   

Bucky was going to be another source of future pain for her. If she was smart, she would avoid him like the plague, but she couldn’t seem to stay away from him. It had gone beyond wanting to give a bit of comfort to a man who had been through hell. He was smart and funny. Despite the cocky facade, he was a genuinely nice guy.  And when that grin of his broke through, it sent butterflies through her. Most of the time she was able to forget what his fate would be, but it made her want to cry everytime she thought about it. He already felt like one of her closest friends.

“Tell me about your friend,” Bucky said quietly.

“You want to see a picture of her?”

“Sure.”

Darcy reluctantly released his hand and she pulled the chain from around her neck and opened the locket. “That’s Jane,” she pointed to the photo on the right. It was a small black and white headshot of Jane smiling. It had been taken at a party Tony had thrown after she and Jane had started working for Stark Industries. Jane had actually let Darcy try out the retro hairstyling techniques that she had been learning on her that night and she had looked really glamorous. Tony had pretended not to recognize her without her flannel shirts and frequently uncombed hair. “She’s tiny, but fierce and the smartest person that I know and I know a lot of geniuses.”

“That’s saying a lot.”

“You think Howard is a workaholic, but Jane is ten times worse, especially when she’s got some new theory and is in the zone. She’s not always so great at taking care of herself. We’re a good team. Jane had her head up in the sky and I took care of the real world practicalities.”

“You’re good at taking care of people.”

She shrugged, a little embarrassed by the intensity of his voice when said that. “Somebody’s got to make sure the geniuses are fed and watered.”

“Who’s that?” He pointed to the picture of Thor on the other side of the locket. It was another black and white photo taken at the same party. 

“That’s Jane’s boyfriend.” She grinned and told him, “They met because she ran over him. Twice.”

“Twice?” Bucky laughed. “It must be true love then.” 

“Something like that. Thor’s a good guy though. He’s the closest thing I’ve ever had to a brother.”

“Thor? Like the god with the magic hammer?”

“Mew Mew. Yeah. He’s uh- Norwegian.” She hadn’t really given any thought to how she would explain Thor to people in the past. The photos were really just for her to remind herself of home. She had not intended to show them to anyone else. But it felt good to share them with Bucky.

“He does look like a Viking,” he observed. “I’ve never seen a man with hair that long.”

“He definitely has a unique fashion sense. Very big on capes.”

“Is he- uh- gone too?”

“No, he’s out there fighting somewhere.” It gave her a small bit of comfort to know Thor was out there somewhere in the Nine Realms fighting the good fight, even if he didn’t know her yet. She wondered if she would catch Heimdall’s attention talking about Thor. Would he know she was from the future? “I miss him too.” She closed the locket and hung it back around her neck.

“Thank you for sharing them with me.”

“I was actually really helped to talk about them,” Darcy admitted. She felt a little lighter. “It makes me feel closer to them.”

“You want to see a picture of my family?” Bucky asked hesitantly.

“I’d love to.”

He reached into his jacket and pulled a photo out of his breast pocket. He held it out to her. It was small and creased where it had obviously been folded up at some point. She held it carefully in her hand. 

“This was taken the last Christmas we were all together before my sister got married and I was drafted.” It was an intimate photo. Everyone looked like they were still in their pajamas and robes and she could see part of a Christmas tree in the background. ”Those are my folks,” he pointed to the middle aged couple. His dad was sitting in a wingback chair wearing a dark robe and had a coffee cup in his hand, but instead of looking at the camera, he was smiling up at his wife who was sitting on the arm of his chair. She had on a quilted housecoat with a mink stole wrapped around her shoulders, one of her hands stroking it lovingly as she smiled brightly at the camera. “Me, Becca, and Pop saved up a year to buy her that mink stole. I wish we had been able to get her a coat, but she loved it anyway. She didn’t take it off all day. Said she felt like a movie star.” He pointed to the woman sitting between himself and Steve on a small sofa. “That’s my sister, Becca. She’s a year younger than me. You’d like her. Always got a wisecrack to put me and Steve in our place.” He shared a little smile with Darcy, then focused back on the photo in her hands. “We’ve always been real close. I miss her a lot. Her husband got a job managing a factory in Indiana and she moved there after I got drafted. I haven’t seen her in almost two years. She writes to me all the time though.” She looked a lot like Bucky. She had the same pouty lips and dark hair. She was wearing a floral robe with a lacy collar and little titled black hat with a couple of long pheasant feathers reminding Darcy a bit of Robin Hood’s hat. They must be all wearing their Christmas presents. Next to her was pre-serum tiny Steve in a robe with a tartan scarf wrapped around his neck. “And that’s Steve, if you can believe it.”

“I can. I was there when he was given the serum.” She can still remember his screams and Dr. Erskine’s blood.

“I didn’t know that. He never said.”

“We didn’t actually meet that day. It was chaos after Doctor Erskine was murdered.” She didn’t want to think about that right now, so she pointed back to the picture. Bucky was sitting on the other side of his sister with his feet propped up on the coffee table, his dark colored robe was open exposing plaid pajamas. His hair was longer at the top than it was now and a wavy mess. “Whose that?” she pointed to the white cat in his lap. 

Bucky grinned and rubbed his finger across the photo as if he could feel the cat’s fur. “That’s Snowball. She became Ma’s baby after me and Becca moved out, but she’s pretty partial to me too. Mainly, she loves to shed her white fur all over me, especially my good suits.”

“Cats are the sweetest little jerks. Looks like everyone has their Christmas presents on. What did you get that year?”

“I think Pop, Steve, and I got new robes with our initials on the pocket. I got a watch too.” He pointed to the left hand that was resting on Snowball. Then his face darkened. “One of those damn Hydra goons stole it from me when I got captured. I’m lucky I managed to keep this picture. I had to hide it in my boot. It’s why it’s so beat up.”  

She imagined it was also because he handled it a lot, reminiscing about good times with his family too. She handed the photo back to him. “Looks like you’ve got a great family there, Bucky.”

“The best,” he agreed as he slipped the photo back into his breast pocket. “I hope I’ll get to see them again.”

Darcy forced herself to smile and lie as she patted his knee. “You will.” She tapped the closed book resting in his lap. “What are you reading?”

Bucky showed her the title on the spine, Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen .

She laughed when she saw that. She thought Bucky had been a little disgruntled at not getting the reference sha and Gabe had joked about last night. “Ooh, my namesake, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.”

“It’s good. Think I saw the movie a couple of years ago. Pretty sure Greer Garson was in it. The book is much better though.”

“They always are.”

Chapter Text

Darcy walked into the day room that the team had pretty much taken over as their own. It appeared that Jacques and Gabe were giving Bucky, Dugan, and Morita a French lesson. They were deep into it and didn’t notice her entrance.

“Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?” she called out.

All heads turned toward her. Gabe’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. Jacques started choking as he tried to stifle his laughter. Bucky turned bright red and looked anywhere but at her. Dugan’s face was inscrutable. Morita’s eyes darted around to everyone and stage whispered, “She said something dirty, didn’t she?”

Darcy laughed and shrugged. “It’s the only French I know.” Which wasn’t entirely true. She could order food and find the bathroom and the train station, but otherwise her French was pretty limited.

“And where did you learn that exactly?” Gabe asked, grinning at her.

“From a song.”

“How about you teach it to us?” Dugan asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

She shook her head and laughed. “Don’t think you guys are quite ready for that yet.” Not for about 30 years or so she thought.

“Aw, don’t be a tease, Darcy,” Morita complained.

“Just something to look forward to, Jim.” She winked at him before she turned her attention to Bucky, who’s eyes were focused intently on the notebook in front of him instead of joking around like the others. She wondered if he disapproved of her suggestive French even in jest, although he wasn’t normally so uptight. “Mind if I steal the Sarge from you for a bit?”

Bucky finally looked up and met her eyes, giving her a bit of a smirk. “Need your pack mule?”

Darcy rolled her eyes at his teasing. “Nope. I’m here to take you to the Costume Department. Today’s the day you guys get outfitted in your special team uniforms to match Captain America.”

He sighed heavily and stood. “Please tell me I’m not going to have to wear tights.”

She grinned and let her eyes trail down Bucky’s body with a suggestive leer. She couldn’t help fantasizing for a moment about how Bucky would look in one of those tight supersuits that Captain America and Black Widow wore in her time. “How are your legs?”

Bucky gave her one of his cocky little grins that told her he knew exactly what a prime specimen he was. “Maybe not as good as Steve’s now, but I might give Errol Flynn a run for his money.”

Darcy and Bucky headed out the door and Dugan called after them,“Tell ‘em I’m not giving up my hat!” 

Bucky followed Darcy expecting to go to the quartermaster, but she led him to the dimly lit, narrow back stairs that must have once been the servants’ stairs.

“Where are we going?” he asked as they kept climbing up.

“I told you, the Costume Department,” she said, casting a look over her shoulder at him. “You’re not just a regular soldier anymore, Buck. You’re on a whole other level. Not only are you guys going to be taking out Hydra, you’re going to be used as a shining example of 'American Exceptionalism' just like your best buddy. A propaganda tool basically. ”

“Wait, what?” He caught her wrist and stopped her. She turned and faced him on the stair above his and it made them almost eye level. “Are you telling me we’re going to have to do some kind of dog and pony show to sell war bonds or something like Steve did?”

“Maybe. I don’t know,” she shrugged. “I do know that they’re going to do a whole media blitz on Captain America and his Merry Men. Life magazine, news reels, the works.”

“What the hell? I didn’t sign up for that.” Bucky crossed his arms over his chest. He did not want to deal with that kind of nonsense. He just wanted to burn Hydra to the ground as quickly as possible and go home. 

“You kinda did. C’mon, Bucky,” she cajoled and gave him one of the mischievous smiles of hers. “You’ll end up being a heartthrob to millions of lonely women. ‘Captain America’s handsome badass sniper of a best friend’. You can’t tell me you won’t enjoy having women fall at your feet.”

The man he had been before the war would have loved that kind of spotlight, but he didn’t think he would enjoy it now. He was afraid that kind of light on him would show all the cracks where he was barely holding himself together. He did what he always did recently and pushed those thoughts down and hid them away as best he could. Instead gave Darcy his best roguish smirk. “Sweetheart, I don’t need to be in Life for women to fall at my feet.”

Darcy laughed and patted his chest. “They’re going to eat you up with a spoon, Bucky Barnes.”

Bucky had to fight down the comment he wanted to make about who he’d prefer to eat him up. It was so easy to fall into flirtatious banter with her, but that might have been a step too close to inappropriate. “I’m here to take out Hydra, not making time with swooning dames. I’ll have more time to give them the proper attention after the war.”

“I never pictured you as one to play hard to get, Buck.”

I’d be easy for you, Bucky thought but said, “Got a different set of priorities these days.” He gave her a serious look, “And it don’t include me wearing tights, Darcy.”

“Hey, I’m not in charge of that.” She laughed and held up her hands in mock surrender. “But if I was, I wouldn’t put you in tights.”

“What would you put me in?” He couldn’t keep the suggestive tone out of his voice and he berated himself for it.

Darcy didn’t take offense and got a far away look in her eye as if she was imagining it. And he would kill to know what she was thinking. Especially, what caused the slow sultry smile to spread across her red lips. “I’m afraid that’s classified, Sergeant Barnes.” She turned and started up the stairs again and he couldn’t help his eyes lingering on her ass and the way the fabric of her trousers stretched across it as she climbed. Whoever had tailored those trousers so perfectly deserved some kind of reward. He somehow forced his gaze up and focused the elaborate rolls of dark hair pinned to the back of her head as he began to follow her up again. She glanced back at him. “I wouldn’t worry too much, Bucky. Howard has been working on special fabrics that should provide you guys with more protection than the standard uniform and none of them are stretchy enough for tights.”

“Thank God,” Bucky sighed, but cursed himself inwardly for ogling and flirting with Howard’s girl. That was going to get him in trouble one day if he wasn’t careful and he didn’t want to risk losing either Darcy or Howard’s friendship by being inappropriate. 

They ended up walking up the stairs to what was basically the attic of the building and he was shocked to find what looked like the workroom of a tailor or seamstress’s shop. There was a big long table in the middle where an older man in a vest and rolled up shirt sleeves was marking something out with chalk on some olive drab fabric. Another work take had a group of women hand sewing different garments. There were rolls of fabric leaned up in almost every corner of the room. A row of sewing machines was lined up on one wall and women were bent over them intent on their work. Along another wall were racks of all sorts of clothes and shelves full of hats, shoes, and other accessories. It looked like they were mainly full of different kinds of uniforms both Allied and enemy uniforms along with some civilian clothes. 

“Holy cow!" he exclaimed, rather astounded by the whole thing. "You weren’t kidding about the costume department, were you?”  

“Nope.” Darcy guided Bucky to the man at the table. “Mr. Fitzwilliam, Sergeant Barnes is here for his fitting.”

Mr. Fitzwilliam straightened himself up and gave Bucky a cool assessing look from head to toe. “Good afternoon, Sergeant,” he said in a crisp British accent. “Madame is ready for you.” He gestured to a closed door and began to move in that direction.

Bucky found himself frozen in place and inexplicably nervous. It wasn’t like he was a stranger to getting a suit fitted. In fact, he loved buying new clothes and the workroom wasn’t an entirely unfamiliar environment. He had this weird feeling like he was going to be led to his doom through that door and it was suddenly hard to breathe. All he could hear was the whining drone of the sewing machines and it sounded like-

“Bucky, look at me,” he distantly heard Darcy’s voice and then felt her cool hands unclenching his fists and lacing their fingers together. Then her face snapped into focus, but he still couldn’t draw breath. “Bucky, focus on me and breathe with me. Okay, my dude?” 

He imitated the exaggerated deep breaths she was taking and concentrated on her face. She was wearing tortoiseshell framed glasses today instead of the black framed ones she wore most often. Her hairstyle was different than what it had been yesterday. It was up off her neck and styled in smooth victory rolls in the front instead of curls.  

“Did you go to the beauty parlor this morning?” tumbled out of his mouth without thought.

Darcy laughed and he saw relief wash over her face. “Yeah, I did. Do you like it, Buck?”

“It’s pretty, but I’d like to see it down one day.”

“Yeah, you’re back with me, you smooth devil,” she smiled warmly at him and squeezed his hands.

The bubble it felt like he and Darcy were in alone popped and Bucky suddenly realized they were still standing in the middle of the sewing workroom. Mr. Fitzwilliam was standing next to them and his formerly haughty expression was one of sympathy. Beside him was a tall elegant older lady dressed all in black except for a string of pearls around her neck, her face was completely unreadable. He released Darcy’s hands and moved away from her. He felt himself flush red in embarrassment at having witnesses to his breakdown. Thankfully, it looked like the women sewing were still focused on their work and hadn’t noticed.

Darcy stepped back to him and took his arm like she was expecting him to escort her into a ball or something, but he was grateful to her since the feel of her next to him helped ground him.

“Sergeant, would you prefer to have the consultation about your uniform here in the workroom or in the privacy of Madame’s office? It’s entirely at your discretion,” Mr. Fitzwilliam inquired kindly.

“The office is fine, thanks.” He looked over at Darcy, “You’re not going to leave me alone and let them dress me in tights like Steve?”

The hand on his arm gave a reassuring squeeze. “I got your back.” 

Bucky walked Darcy into the office. The woman in black held out her hand to him. “Sergeant Barnes, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said in a thick French accent as he shook her hand. “I am Madame Gautier. It is my responsibility to see that you have appropriate clothing for your missions.”

If Bucky hadn’t still been slightly shaken he might have responded in some of his newly learned French. Instead, he told her, “The pleasure is all mine, ma’am.”

Madame Gautier gestured to Mr. Fitzwilliam. “You’ve already met Mr. Fitzwilliam. He’s our head tailor.”

Bucky shook his hand as well. He took a deep breath and said, “Look, I’m sorry about that back there. I don’t know what happened. Something about the sound of the sewing machines. I think it reminded me of the sound of some of the machines at the work camp I was at and it just took me back. I’m sorry.”

“Think nothing of it,” Madame waived his apology away airily. “We all have those little quirks. I despise the smell of gardenias. It reminds me of my step-mother. She was like those step-mothers in fairy tales.” 

“I’ll ask one of the girls to bring up a tea tray,” Mr Fitzwilliam said and stepped out of the office. A minute later the dull drone of the sewing machines stopped and he returned. Bucky shot him a grateful smile. 

Bucky and Darcy sat on the little sofa against the wall and Madame and Mr. Fitzwilliam sat in chairs across from them. It didn’t take long for a woman to bring in a tray with a plain white tea set. Madame poured the tea and told Bucky about herself and Mr. Fitzwilliam and their department of the SSR. Before the war Madame Gautier had been a costume designer in the French film industry and happened to be in England when France was invaded. She stayed and she was recruited by British intelligence to assist in outfitting spies sent behind enemy lines. Mr. Fitzwilliam was the head tailor at a Saville Row shop that specialized in hand tailored officer uniforms. He had fought in the first war and was too old to enlist for this one, so he volunteered his skills to one of his clients who was assigned to MI5. Since the SSR’s mission had a large espionage component their department made sure the agents sent out undercover could perfectly blend into the environment they were sent into.

Madame pulled out a gold cigarette case from her dress pocket and took out a Gauloises cigarette. Bucky rose from his seat and lit it for her. She nodded in thanks, then gestured with it to Mr. Fitzwilliam to speak.

“Your team will be a bit different than a regular military unit, Sergeant.” Fitzwilliam took a sip of his tea and then continued on, “Captain America has been a highly effective tool thus far in the propaganda war, particularly since he rescued you and your fellow soldiers. Allied leadership would like to capitalize on that. You will be carrying out very real missions, but your team will be publicized in a way that special operations units normally aren’t. Therefore, your uniforms will be more distinct so that they will be recognized by the enemy and perhaps instill a bit of fear when they are confronted by Captain America’s team. Your personalized uniforms will also read better in photos and news reels.”

Bucky didn’t like the thought of the team being used for propaganda purposes or their uniforms causing them to stick out in a war zone, but kept his mouth shut. Madame and Fitwilliam were not the people making those decisions. They were just doing their jobs.

“Captain Rogers kindly gave us a few notes about what he would like to see for the team’s uniforms,” Madame opened a portfolio and handed Bucky a drawing. “This was his idea for you.”

He took in the sketch on the page in shock. No doubt it was Steve’s work, but he almost couldn’t believe the bright red and blue uniform Steve had come up with for him. It looked like some kind of cowboy comic book character’s costume. It consisted of a royal blue double breasted cavalry shirt and pirate boots paired with red pants and gauntlets. All it was missing was some fringe and a bandana.

“Nope.” Bucky tossed the drawing on the coffee table. He pointed at the ridiculous outfit on the figure in the sketch. “Who the hell am I supposed to be?! General Custer? Steve may have done the occasional fashion illustration for a department store, but that doesn’t make him Adrian. Jesus Christ!" He huffed, remembering Steve's abysmal fashion sense. "Steve can’t even dress himself. He has the worst taste in clothes I’ve ever seen. He used to wear them two sizes too big. He thought it made him look bigger, but he just looked like a kid dressing up in his dad’s clothes. I am not wearing that ridiculous cowboy outfit.” He crossed his arms over his chest and tried to reign his outrage in.

“Okay, Bucky, you have some very strong opinions,” Darcy said diplomatically, patting his knee. He could tell she could barely hold back her laughter, though whether at his anger or the stupid drawing he didn’t know. “Madame, Mr. Fitzwilliam? Your thoughts?”

Fitzwilliam was taking another sip of tea, although Bucky could see the hint of a smile hidden behind the tea cup.

The French woman’s face was sphynx-like, but she told him, “I agree, Sergeant. You will not be wearing that.” She pointed at the sketch. “It is completely ridiculous, but we did use some of the ideas as inspiration. Would you like to see?”

“I’m honestly a little afraid.”

“No need.”

They were led back through the workroom into a smaller room with a low platform in front of a three way mirror. There were also two mannequins with partially constructed coats on them. One was familiar to him since it was the standard Service Coat like he’d been issued when he’d been drafted. He’d been issued the shorter Ike Jacket for his dress uniform after he’d been rescued. Even in its basted and chalk marked state, Bucky could tell this coat was much more finely crafted than what the Army had given him.

The other jacket was blue, but not the garish royal blue Steve had used in his sketch. It was dusty, muted blue that wouldn’t stand out too terribly. Based on how the front was pinned together, it looked like it was supposed to be double breasted. The fabric had a slight sheen to it and he couldn’t help but to reach out and touch it. “What is this, silk?” he asked, a little perplexed.

“Yes,” Fitzwilliam told him. “Multiple layers of silk have proven to be quite bullet resistant. We’ve also included several layers of Stark’s carbon polymer fabric. You should be rather well protected.”

“It’s a shame every GI doesn’t get one of these,” Bucky commented, but he supposed some government bean counter had figured out young men’s lives were cheaper than the silk needed to outfit an army.

Madame stepped forward and gestured to the coat, “As you can see, Sergeant, I took inspiration from Captain Rogers’s sketch. The double breasted design is reminiscent of shirts once worn by the cavalry in the American West and it will provide your chest with a double layer of protection. It is also inspired by short jackets worn by cavalry officers during the Napoleonic Wars. This blue was used by French soldiers in the Great War to help blend into the sky. You will frequently be lying in wait from an elevated position, no?”

“Plus, it will bring your eyes out,” Darcy interjected jokingly. “The ladies are going to go nuts for those baby blues.”

Bucky looked back over his shoulder and winked at her, causing her to pretend to faint.

“If you would be so kind as to step in front of the mirror, we can start your fitting,” Fitzwilliam said and Bucky stepped on the small platform and began unbuttoning his Ike jacket. The tailor helped him remove it from his shoulders before helping him into the blue coat and pinning it closed at the points the buttons should be.

Bucky turned back to face the mirror and stared at himself for a few moments. It fit well and made his shoulders look even broader. It did look a little like something out of the Charge of the Light Brigade, but without all the elaborate braid.. Darcy was right, the blue did make his eyes look bluer. Overall, it wasn’t bad and he didn’t look like he’d walked out of some bad cowboy serial. He reached up and popped the collar. “Not bad,” he decided. He could see Darcy’s grin in the mirror and he met her eyes in the reflection. “What do you think, Darce?”

“You look very dashing.”

He returned her smile. “Dashing. I like that.”

Darcy was sitting at a table with Lorraine and a couple of the women from the secretarial pool having dinner when Bucky walked in. He didn’t even pause by the table Rogers and the rest of the team were sitting at as he passed by on his way to the serving line. Lorraine shot her a look and raised a questioning eyebrow at his uncharacteristic behavior. Darcy just shrugged in response. Maybe he was still feeling a little out of sorts after his panic attack earlier, but that wasn’t anything she’d ever tell anyone else. She turned her attention back to Joan’s hilariously over the top recounting of the horrible date she’d been on with a sailor last night.

“Good evening, ladies,” Bucky’s voice broke through their laughter and they all looked up at him standing behind the empty chair at their table with his plate and a glass of water in his hands. He gave them a winning smile and Darcy could practically see Joan and the other two typists melt in the wake of his charming smile turned full blast on them. “Do you mind if I join you for dinner?”

“Not at all,” Lorraine told him. “But it looks like your team might be expecting you.”

Darcy followed her look across the room to see Captain Rogers’s attention focussed on Bucky’s back with that kicked puppy expression on his face.

Bucky barely spared his teammates’ table a glance over his shoulder before sitting in the empty seat between Lorraine and Darcy. “What kind of man would pass up the chance to have dinner surrounded by beautiful girls?” 

That got him a round of giggles and blushes from the younger women. Despite the fact that Bucky had been struggling with what Darcy figured was PTSD and was more withdrawn than he might normally be, he was still a terrible flirt and almost all of the female population at HQ had already fallen under his spell. The story of his imprisonment and rescue was seen as tragically romantic to some. Throw that in with his handsome face, flirtatious but polite manner, and the fact that he was the one that punched out Private Henry for being disrespectful to a lady, he had become the heartthrob of the SSR. Especially, since Captain Rogers showed zero interest in any woman that wasn’t Agent Carter.

Bucky encouraged Joan to continue with the story of her misadventure with the sailor. Which soon led them all to tell the story of the worst date they’d ever been on. Bucky’s worst date, of course, involved Steve Rogers. Bucky had them crying with laughter at his tale of the ill fated double date to Coney Island. Darcy was sure that Rogers’s heard every word of Bucky's story with his enhanced hearing, because she could see his face get increasingly red the longer it went on and the more he failed to hide his interest in the goings on at the table with Bucky.

“So Steve has spent the entire day herding us away from the Cyclone everytime we got close to it, because he hates it. Scares him to death, but he refuses to admit it. He’s got to be the tough guy, y’know? I knew why though. He’d only rode it once before when we were kids and he had an asthma attack. I thought for sure he was going to die before the thing stopped. But anyway, the one thing Betty and Maggie said they absolutely wanted to do that day was ride the Cyclone. And after everything that had already gone wrong that day including Steve eating my hot dog earlier, I was pretty cranky by this point."

“Ooh, does hangry Bucky get really mean?” Darcy asked with a laugh just imagining the look on his face when he realized Steve had eaten both of their hot dogs 'by mistake'. 

“Hangry?” he questioned with a chuckle. “Yeah, I get a little testy on an empty stomach. I just wanted to ride the damned Cyclone and go home and go to bed and forget about that horrible day. But, Steve, of course, he was dragging his feet and the girls were pouting and I was absolutely done. I had no sympathy left for him and I basically frog marched him through the line and stuck him and Betty in the car I knew was the roughest ride.”

Susan gasped. “Did he have another asthma attack?”

“Nope. It was worse.” Bucky paused for dramatic effect letting that sink in. “You remember how much Steve ate that day? All that salt water taffy, the cotton candy, and both mine and his hot dogs?”

There was a chorus of “Oh, no!” and “Eww!” as everyone figured out where the story was going.

“Yep! After the first big drop, he threw up all over himself and Betty and that made her sick and she threw up all over me and Maggie sitting in front of them.”

“Oh, my God!” Billie exclaimed. “How did you get home like that?”

“I literally drug them down to the beach. Betty and Maggie were crying. Steve had pretty much fainted from embarrassment. I just walked us all into the water. I’m not going to lie, I thought about just drowning Steve and myself right there and ending it all. And later I really regretted not doing it when I was sitting there soaking wet on the train, while Betty and Maggie hugged Steve between them to ‘keep him warm’ and yelled at me the whole way back for making ‘poor Stevie’ ride the Cyclone. And that little punk sitting there between two beautiful girls in damp cotton dresses fawning over him and him just smirking at me like the cat that ate the canary.”

“Aww, poor Bucky,” Lorraine cooed and rubbed his back. 

“I know. It was the worst day of my life,” he said dramatically.

Darcy shook her head and elbowed him. “Dude, you kinda deserved it.”

There were a round of sympathetic “No’s” from the other women at the table.

“Buck?”

Everyone turned their attention to Rogers standing beside the table looking a little jealous. Darcy could see the rest of the team watching near the door, looking like they were expecting some fine entertainment soon. 

The smile slid from Bucky’s face and he raised a questioning eyebrow.

“How come you didn’t join the rest of the team for dinner?”

Bucky turned to Lorraine, “Private, would you mind telling Captain Rogers that I prefer the company of you lovely ladies over hack artists like him?”

Lorraine turned to Rogers, but he just shook his head and rolled his eyes. “What’s wrong, pal?” he asked, his lips twitching as he attempted to keep a neutral expression.

“I’m not talking to you, Steve,” Bucky said defiantly, shoveling a big spoonful of stew into his mouth.

“Oh, c’mon, Buck. What are you mad about?” Rogers was no longer remotely trying to contain his grin.

“Red pants, Steve?” Bucky asked angrily as he turned in his chair toward his friend. Everyone in the dining room had their attention focused on the two of them now. “Even the goddamn redcoats didn’t wear red pants. What the hell? I’d get shot in the ass walking around like a big red target. Damn it, Steve! I’m a soldier not a showgirl.”

“But you could always kick like a Rockette,” Steve shot back looking absolutely delighted at the rise he’d gotten out of Bucky. Everyone else started laughing too.

Bucky shot to his feet with a murderous look on his face and Darcy didn’t blame Rogers for taking a big step back, despite his gleeful expression. “I can still kick your ass even if it is a foot higher,” Bucky told him.

Rogers barked out another laugh. “Awww, don’t be like that, Buck. What will these ladies think?”

Darcy realized she may have totally underestimated Steve Rogers. “Wow! Who knew Captain America was such a troll!” 

Chapter Text

“Hey! Hey, Jimmy! Wake up!”

Bucky’s eyes popped open as he took a ragged breath. His muscles tensed ready to fight the large figure looming over him in the dark.

“Relax, Jimmy,” the figure told him calmly while taking a step back. “It’s just ol’ Dum Dum. We’re safe. We're in London.”  Dugan pushed back the blackout curtains covering the window slightly and the moonlight illuminated his ginger hair. 

Through the break in the curtains Bucky could see the darkened buildings of London. He took a deep breath, trying to push back the terrified feeling lingering from his nightmare. He focused on Dugan standing next to his bed. “How many damned times do I got to tell you not to call me ‘Jimmy’?”

“Sorry, Buck,” he replied, completely unrepentant.

“You know I hate that.” Bucky sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face, then reached for his cigarettes and lighter on his nightstand. His hand shook so badly he couldn’t even get one lit. Dugan pulled the lighter from his fingers and lit for him. “Thanks.” He inhaled deeply and leaned back against his headboard willing his heart to stop pounding in his chest.

Dugan took one of the smokes from Bucky’s pack and lit one himself before sitting back on the edge of his bed. He gazed at the lighter for a moment before looking over at Bucky, his mustache titling up as he smiled. “Kinda funny how it turned out to be Darcy’s honor you defended that night, ain’t it?”

“I’d do it again,” he replied instantly without thought, but it was true.  In the short time he’d known her Darcy had become one of his people that he would defend to his last drop of blood. It wasn’t even because he had a crush on her. That was the least of the reasons. Every time he was weak and had faltered, she’d had his back, lending him strength and compassionate understanding and never treating him like he was broken or crazy. And she made him laugh.

“Me too,” Dugan chuckled as he set the lighter back on the nightstand. “She’s a swell gal. Stark sure knows how to pick ‘em.”

“Yeah.” Bucky took a long drag of his cigarette and closed his eyes briefly dwelling on the memory of Darcy hugging him and how good that had felt. He longed to have a warm soft woman to hold him close and remind him he was alive. But how could he have that or anything close to a real future with a woman, maybe a wife someday, if he couldn’t sleep in the same bed as her without being worried he might accidentally hurt her with his thrashing around and be ashamed of what she would witness? It was bad enough that Dugan had to see him like this and have his sleep disturbed most nights even if he understood what Bucky had gone through. He sighed heavily and told Dugan,  “I’ll talk to Steve, see if he can get you reassigned to a different room. You shouldn’t have to deal with my crazy shit.”

“Nah, don’t bother,” Dugan replied dismissively as he kicked his legs up onto his bed and leaned back against the headboard. “At least you don’t snore. I don’t want to deal with some bastard sawing logs all night. And you don’t try to steal shit out of my foot locker either. I’d rather stick with you, bud.” 

For a while, they sat there quietly as they smoked and Bucky tried not to let himself get lost in his head thinking about all the ways he’d never be normal again. 

“You know, I get those nightmares too,” Dugan said softly in the darkness. “Some nights every time I close my eyes all I see are those big fuckin’ tanks and that blue glow just zappin’ everyone around me into nothing. Sometimes with my eyes open too. The other night, me and Morita and Frenchie went to a joint one of the agents told us had good grub. I can’t tell you how good it was, ‘cause all the light fixtures had these blue glass globes on ‘em. I kept seeing that blue glow out of the corner of my eye. It scared me. I’d turn my head and expect to see the folks sitting over there to be gone, zapped away. Didn’t bother Morita or Frenchie, but I couldn’t keep sitting there. I didn’t even know how to tell them what was wrong. They’d think I’d cracked up.”

Bucky stared in shock at his friend’s dark form across from him. He knew Dugan sometimes had nightmares, but he hadn’t know what they were about. Bucky never really dreamed of the Hydra tanks themselves, just the death of his men and his powerlessness to save them. “Well, goddamn, pal! Now I got something new to have nightmares about.”

Dugan huffed out a short laugh. “Are you telling me those things didn’t scare the shit out of you, Buck?”

“Well, yeah, but…” he trailed off. Gathering his thoughts and courage he took one last drag of his cigarette before mashing it out in the ashtray on the nightstand. “Somehow those tanks weren’t as bad as being a prisoner and then- I don't even know what they did to me. But they did something and it hurt so bad. They didn’t even ask me any questions. They weren’t interrogating me. They didn’t want information. They were just hurting me. I can’t even remember what all they did. It’s a blur, but I do remember a lot of needles and fire in my veins. Like maybe they were testing different kinds of drugs on me to see what they would do or something.”   

He could feel Dugan’s eyes on him. “Something must have worked I guess. You were at death’s door when they took you away, bud.”

“I know.”

"I'm glad you didn't die, Buck," Dugan told him sincerely.

"I'm not sure I am sometimes," Bucky replied just as sincerely. However, there was some relief in knowing he wasn’t the only one struggling with the things that they had gone through. But something different had been done to Bucky and the possibilities of what it might mean terrified him. “But destroying Hydra and the rest of those Nazi bastards sure would make me feel better.”  

“You and me both, bud.”

He was too antsy to go back to sleep,  so he quickly pulled on his casual uniform. “I’m going to take a walk.”

Bucky went downstairs and wandered about the lower levels of HQ. There were a few people working in the various labs and workshops. No one ever objected to him being there. They’d become used to seeing him with Stark and he never tried to touch anything he wasn’t supposed to even during his restless wanderings. So they let him be. 

He saw the light shining around the cracked door of Stark’s workshop and he hoped Stark and Darcy were still working. He wouldn’t mind getting caught up in their playful banter. “Hey, don’t you scientists ever sleep?” he called as he pushed open the door.

  Stark immediately shushed him. “Don’t wake the Tiny Tyrant!” He pointed to the sofa against the wall and he realized the lump under the tartan wool blanket was Darcy. The only part of her that was exposed was from her nose up as she slept peacefully..

Bucky winced and whispered, “Sorry. I’ll go.”

“No, come have a drink with me,” Stark responded quietly and held up a bottle, shaking it invitingly. “You look like you could use one. And I could use a break.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Bucky walked over to where Stark was sitting on a stool in front of a chalkboard filled with equations and who knows what else. He’d never really seen the scientist quite so disheveled. He always looked like he’d just stepped off the silver screen no matter what he was doing, but his tie was gone and he had chalk all over his unbuttoned vest and pants. His hair was a little wild as if he’d been running his hands through it and slightly powdered with more chalk dust. It made him look a little like a kid playing an old man in some school play or something. Bucky couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips at the thought.

Stark handed him a glass with a couple fingers of scotch and Bucky pulled up another stool to sit on. “What’s all this?” he asked, gesturing to the chalkboard.

“My frustration,” he sighed heavily and took a large sip of his drink. “I should have listened to Darcy and slept on it and let Lorraine look it over in the morning, but I just couldn’t let it go and now it’s an even bigger mess. Don’t tell Darcy I said that,” Stark gave him a pointed look, before looking back to the chalkboard and heaving another sigh. “Lorraine will never let me hear the end of it.”

“Lorraine? What’s she got to do with it.”

Stark chuckled, “You didn’t think she was just here for her pretty face, did you? She’s here for her beautiful brain. She is a math wiz. Truly gifted and that’s not something I say lightly. She helps all of us with calculations and double checks our work along with helping the code breakers.”

“Huh.” Bucky was impressed. He had assumed Lorraine was just another member of the secretarial staff, albeit one that worked closer with Colonel Phillips and Stark than any other secretary in the SSR. “How about that!”  

“Got a thing for smart girls, Barnes? She’ll still eat you alive. But maybe you like that too?” Stark teased with a wink.

Lorraine wasn’t the smart girl that had caught his eye, but he couldn’t exactly tell that to the lover of the girl who had. Bucky shrugged noncommittally. “Not much time for girls at the moment.”  

“You’re about to have even less time too.” Stark swiveled on his stool to face Bucky. “What’s got you roaming the halls at this hour, anyway? Nervous about the briefing tomorrow?”

“No, not really. Nightmare.” Bucky looked down at the glass in his hand, ashamed to admit it. “Kinda silly, right?”

“No.” Stark studied him, before he filled both their glasses with even more scotch. “Did your old man fight in the Great War?”

“No, he worked in the shipyards. His skills were too essential, they said.” As a young kid he’d been kind of embarrassed that his dad hadn’t fought in the war like the other boys’ fathers. But as he got older, he realized how lucky he was. Steve never even got to meet his dad, since he’d been born while his dad was fighting in France. That was probably why Steve idolized soldiers so much. Some of the other kids had fathers that came home with arms, legs, or even half a face missing. Then there were the ones prone to drunkenness or violent rages and people always made the excuse that it was because of what had happened during the war.

“He was lucky then,” Stark said without censure and Bucky figured that the scientist was in a similar position in this war. Stark took a long drink of his scotch before he started talking again. “My old man was in the war and he was the meanest son of bitch you’d ever come across. You know the type, nothing he couldn’t solve with a punch or a belt. When I was a kid, I couldn’t imagine he could ever be afraid of anything. But he’d get these nightmares. Wake the whole building screaming. Cops got called more than once thinking somebody was being murdered. The look of terror on that bastard’s face after a nightmare scared me worse than when he would knock me or my mom around. I always wondered what kind of horror must he have witnessed to terrify a real hard case like him?” He looked down at his empty glass and then looked up and met Bucky’s eyes. “Now I get it. I’ve seen the aftermath. I can’t imagine how much worse it must be to be in the middle of it. So, no, pal, I don’t think nightmares are silly.”

Bucky knew the war had already changed him in some fundamental way, even before he’d been captured by Hydra. He was terrified that he would end up like Stark’s father. One of those men that couldn’t leave the violence of war behind him. “Your dad did he-” Bucky cleared his throat, trying to push past his fear of the answer to the question he wanted to ask. “Was he always like that or did the war make him like that?”

Stark shook his head. “My aunt said he was always mean as a snake even as a kid. My mother was a good, hardworking woman and it’s tough to understand how she ended up with a son of bitch like him. But, boy, could he turn the charm on when he wanted something and after he got it there was no charm left. So I guess she found out what he was too late. He died when I was 8 and I still wake up in a cold sweat if I dream about him. I don’t think you’re that kind of man, Barnes. No matter what you go through in this goddamn war, I can’t imagine you laying a hand on your wife and kid like that.” 

“I hope not.”

“You won’t,” he said confidently and Buck wished he had that confidence in himself. “You’re a good man. Like my stepfather. He was in the war too and went through just as much hell, but he was still a kind and generous man when he came back. He had nightmares too. Sometimes if I was up late studying or tinkering in the garage, he’d come sit with me after he had one. Just sit, never say a word, but I’d see that shell shocked look on his face, same as my old man. If it was a really bad one he would go sit in his little office in the dark and pray. Just recite the Kaddish over and over again. You know what that is?”

“Yeah, our neighbors are Jewish,” he replied, nodding. The Roths had lived next door to the Barnes all his life and their families had always been close. Arnie in particular had been good friends with both Steve and Bucky. He’d enlisted in the Navy right after Pearl Harbor. He was on a destroyer somewhere in the Pacific now.

Stark nodded. “I’m not. My mom converted though when they got married and ended up being way more devout than Ira was. He only ever went to Temple on High Holy days or whenever my mother could drag him.  But everytime I hear the Kaddish, I always think of him chanting in the dark. I don’t even know if it was for his dead friends or the people that he killed or both.”

“He sounds like a good man.”

“He was,” Stark replied with a fond smile and Bucky could tell how much he had admired his stepfather. “I wouldn’t be what I am now without him. Probably just some two bit grifter too smart for his own good. Ira made sure I got a good education and taught me a lot about business.”

“Was he an engineer, too?”

“No. He and his brothers were in the rag trade. They loaned me the money to start my own company. I paid them back. Tenfold.” He grinned. “Best investment they ever made.”

“They must be real proud of you.”

“Yeah, they were.” His grin fell and his face went blank. “I’m glad my mother got to see me make something of myself.” He poured more scotch and turned the conversation to a lighter impersonal direction. Bucky realized Howard Stark maintained that flashy, arrogant facade to protect himself and he probably didn’t let many people glimpse underneath it. He appreciated that Stark trusted him enough to tell him about his father and stepfather. It made Bucky feel like they might actually be friends. Steve seemed to think Stark didn’t care about anything other than himself, but Bucky now had evidence that wasn’t true.

Bucky pulled Darcy closer as they swayed to the music. Her warm soft body felt like heaven in his arms and he sighed contentedly when she rested her head against his shoulder. The scent of her perfume surrounded him like an intoxicating cloud. He wished he could stay in this moment forever.

“Buck!” Steve called him and he groaned as his friend intruded on his stolen time with Darcy. “Hey, Buck!” Steve was tapping his shoulder now. 

“Goddamn it, Steve!” he growled in irritation. “Can’t I have one dance with my girl?”
“Your girl, huh?” Steve chuckled. “Shoulda figured Basics of Mechanical Engineering wouldn’t put such sweet little smile on your face.”

A heavy weight fell on his chest and Bucky’s eyes flew open to see Steve looming over him in the dim light. He realized that dancing with Darcy had been just a dream. The previous night was coming back to him. Not long after Stark had told him about his parents, he’d roused Darcy and they’d headed off to bed to the quarters they had upstairs, instead of going back to their hotel. Bucky had pulled an engineering textbook off the bookshelf and settled in to read on the couch Darcy had been sleeping on.  The wool blanket he’d wrapped around himself had still smelled like her.

  “Mechanical Engineering is very stimulating,” Bucky grumbled as set the book aside and scrubbed a hand over his face trying to wake up. What he really wanted to do was roll over and go back to sleep. To his dream.

“Maybe, but you only get that sappy look when you’re dreaming about some dame,” Steve grinned, poking him in the cheek and Bucky swatted his hand away. “Or cake.”

“I do not,” he countered irritably, wishing Steve would just go away. Unless, he actually had cake.  

“You do. Blonde, Brunette, or Redhead?”

Bucky froze at that, suddenly feeling more awake. He pushed himself up into a sitting position and lied. “Strawberry blonde.” He didn’t want anyone to know about his crush on Darcy, not even Steve. 

“Huh.” Steve sat down on a stool and appeared to be scouring his brain for any strawberry blondes that they’ve encountered recently. “That typist with the freckles?”
Bucky shrugged. ”Don’t matter anyway.”

“Why not?”

“We won’t be around here much longer.”

Steve huffed a laugh and gave him a skeptical look. “That’s never stopped you from having a little fun before.”

“Yeah, but I wasn’t in the middle of a war before. I need to keep my head in the game.”

He gave Bucky a long assessing look, before nodding, looking sad all of a sudden. “Guess you’re right. We got plenty of time to be foolin’ around with dames after the war.”

Bucky knew exactly where Steve’s thoughts had gone. Agent Carter. He’d just wanted Steve to get off his back not mess up his chances with Carter. “Hold on just a second there, pal. I’m talking about girls just to pass time with, not certain lady agents who only have eyes for you.”

Steve turned red to the roots of his hair and looked down at his shoes. “It’s not like that, Buck. We’re just colleagues. Maybe friends.”

“Maybe a lot more. Don’t let the chance pass you by. A lady like that is one in a million!”

Steve grinned suddenly and shook his head. “Jesus, Buck, you could give old Mrs. Levi a run for her money with the matchmaking. I’d almost forgotten what a sap you could be.”

“And that was always your problem, no sense of romance, but then again I don’t think your girl is the romantic type either.”

“Stop it,” he said blushing again. “She’s not my girl.”

“We’ll see. Just give it a chance.” Bucky looked down at his watch. Their briefing was scheduled to start in 30 minutes. “Damn, I better hurry.”

“Oh, yeah. I didn’t see you at breakfast and Ms. Lewis said you were passed out on the couch here when she came in this morning, so I made you plate,” he pointed to the plate on the nearby workbench. “It’s probably a little cold now though.”

“Thanks, Steve. You’re the best.”

Chapter Text

The briefing on Hydra, Schmidt, and what SSR suspected of  Zola’s experiments were eye opening and terrifying, particularly to Bucky. It took all his will power not to throw up when Agent Carter went over the history of Hydra’s efforts to create a Super Soldier and the theory that they were not only using POWs as forced labor, but as lab rats as well. It wasn’t a theory to Bucky. It was a proven fact. Was what happened to Schmidt going to happen to him, too?

Luckily, everyone at the table looked just as nauseated at the thought of human experimentation as Bucky felt and Carter called for a break. They all rose from the table and started shuffling out the door. Bucky stuck his hands in his pockets to hide how much they were shaking. He felt like he was going to pass out. 

Dugan clapped a hand on his shoulder and asked loudly, “You got a light, Buck?” He didn’t wait for a reply. Bucky doubted he could unclench his jaw enough to speak anyway. He just allowed himself to be steered up the stairs and out into the courtyard. He somehow made it to a planter with the scraggly remains of a little vegetable garden before throwing up. Dugan stood shielding him from view and when Bucky had nothing left on his stomach he silently handed him a beat up flask. Bucky took a swig of the whiskey, swishing it around his mouth and spitting it out, before drinking another large gulp. He leaned against the wall and glanced over at Dugan who looked close to being sick himself.

“Thanks,” he handed the flask back.

Dugan took a large drink. “Shit, Buck. You think-” 

“Yeah,” Bucky cut him off. He definitely did think Zola tested a version of the Super Soldier Serum on him. It was only thing that could explain his increased strength and a couple of other changes he’d been trying to ignore.

“Shit.” Dugan ran his hand over his face. “Guess that would explain that KO punch the other night.”

“Yeah. I’ve noticed some other things too.”

“I wonder why you didn’t get bigger like Cap.” 

He just shrugged. He’d been wondering the same thing. “Steve got the real deal I guess and I just got Hydra bathtub gin.”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! You gotta find out if what happened to Schmidt could happen to you.”  Dugan blanched and gestured to his face as he connected all the dots between what he had known and what they’d just learned in the briefing. “Have you told anyone?”

Bucky shook his head. He’d been thinking about that and it didn’t seem like a good idea. “I’m not sure if I should. Steve said they were going to originally send him to a lab for study after Erskine died.” 

“But It could kill you.”

“I know. But I’d rather die than become a goddamn lab rat again even if it’s an American lab.. Just keep it to yourself.” He looked his friend in the eye, willing him to understand. “Please, Dum Dum. Don’t even tell Steve. I don’t want him to worry. Maybe I can figure out someone around here I might be able to trust to look into it quietly.”

“Okay, pal,” he agreed, giving Bucky’s shoulder an affectionate pat. “What about Stark’s girl? Seems like she’s taken a shine to you.” He nodded to the lighter that Bucky was unconsciously flipping in his hand. “Lay on some of that charm to get her to-”

“You okay, Bucky?” Steve called, looking concerned when he caught sight of Bucky sitting against the wall.

Dugan turned and Bucky stood as Steve approached.

“Yeah, just needed some air.”

“What they’re doing is even more horrifying than I realized.” Steve looked a little queasy himself. “I’m glad they didn’t get a chance to try that on you fellas.”

“Yeah,” Bucky mumbled, looking away. He wondered how Steve could be so willfully oblivious sometimes. Not that he actually wanted Steve to figure out what happened to him. But it still hurt in a way that he couldn’t explain. Bucky had once been the center of Steve’s universe. Although, it wouldn’t be the first time Steve’s innate sense of justice had clouded his vision from seeing anything other than his ‘duty’ even if it got his best friend hurt in the process. Then he felt Steve’s heavy gaze on him searching for something. Reassurance?

“Say, Cap,” Dugan said, pulling Steve’s attention to him. “That’s your real face right?”

After their trying day of briefings on Hydra, the whole team made their way to what had become their pub, The Whip and Fiddle. Bucky hadn’t known what the name of the joint was the first time they came there. Every time since he looked at the sign and wondered what in the hell it was supposed to mean and was honestly afraid to ask. Things were named strangely in England. A lot of perfectly normal English things sounded really dirty to his American ears. And sometimes they just liked making a dirty joke in plain sight.

But on this night, he wasn’t the only one to have that thought. “Why would you name a bar a thing like that?” Dugan asked no one in particular. Dum Dum was something of an expert on bars, at least of the dive variety. He’d been practically raised in some Hell’s Kitchen bucket of blood that his family ran.

“It sounds dirty,” Morita added.

“You see, chaps,” Monty said, launching into a not so brief history of British pubs and their signage. Which was fascinating, but Bucky wasn’t particularly in the mood for it. 

They sat at the table that Mae, the pub’s owner, had started reserving for them. Bucky suspected it had something to do with the big tips from Stark when he joined them. Not to mention they’d also become regulars and never caused trouble the way soldiers and sailors living it up on a weekend pass could. Except for that first time. Bucky didn’t even think he could get drunk anymore. Which was a shame because he’d really like to get blackout drunk and forget for a while. He’d tried a couple of nights ago, but he’s only gotten slightly tipsy for a few minutes and out way too much money.

Bucky just sat at the table with his pint, letting the sounds of people enjoying themselves wash over him. There was a RAF officer noodling around on the piano, his friends cajoling him to play something they could dance to.

Steve was sitting beside him with an open book about art in the Louvre he’d found in the library at HQ and making sketches of some of them in his sketchbook. 

“Whatcha drawing there, Cap?” Morita asked, craning his head to look.

“Madame Gautier asked me to design a patch for the team.”

“What’s it going to be? A pair of red trousers?” Bucky asked sourly.

“Only yours, Buck.” Steve grinned at him

“Stupid punk,” Bucky grumbled and it just made Steve laugh.

“I was actually thinking something like this.” Steve flipped the book around and showed them a photograph of a statue of a woman with angel wings, but no head or arms.

All the guys had equally perplexed looks on their faces, but seemed a little reluctant to contradict their new CO. 

Morita cleared his throat.“You know, I heard those guys at Disney design a lot of patches for the Air Corp groups. I got a pal from school that’s an animator now, so...”

Bucky was a little skeptical himself, but a lot of Steve’s best art had started with a particularly nutty idea but evolved into something amazing. Sometimes he just had a hard time verbalizing the things he saw in his head. He was familiar enough with his friend’s process that he could lend a hand to help Steve articulate it. However, Bucky knew Steve needed to build trust with the rest of the team and he couldn’t do that with Bucky always being his buffer. They had to know Steve would at the very least risk embarrassment in front of them and be willing to explain himself if need be.

Steve’s pale Irish skin turned red and he scowled down at the photograph, “Well, not exactly like that. See this is a statue of the Greek goddess of Victory.”

“Nike,” Gabe put in, nodding in encouragement.

“Oh. So not an angel?” Dugan asked.

“Not according to this book. The statue is at the Louvre Museum in Paris. I thought it might be fitting to have “Victory” on our shoulders as we help liberate her and the rest of Europe.” He set his sketchbook next to the photo to show them a page full of little drawings inspired by the statue. 

Bucky nudged Steve with his elbow and couldn’t help but smile. “That’s a really good idea.”

“Yeah?” Steve’s face lit up like it always did when Bucky complimented his art.

“Yeah.”

The guys studied his sketches and started nodding in understanding, getting behind the idea.

“I get it now.”

“That’s a swell idea.”

“Can you at least give her a head?”

“And arms.”

“Ooh and a rifle!”

“But if it’s some ancient Greek goddess, why’s she look like an angel? Did they have those, too?”

Bucky only listened to the rest of the conversation with half an ear as the rest started discussing more esoteric areas of angels, ancient gods, religion, and art.

By now the piano had been taken over by one of the guys he recognized from the SSR motor pool. He and another soldier who had gotten a fiddle from who knows where had started playing hillbilly music. It wasn’t to Bucky’s usual taste, but he had to admit some of it was kind of catchy and it had drawn a few couples to the makeshift dance floor. 

“Oh, thank God!” Morita exclaimed, jumping to his feet. Startled, Bucky looked up and saw Darcy and Stark approaching their table. “Darcy, please come dance with me. I can’t listen to these drips talk about creepy headless angels another minute. It’s like I’m back in school or something.”

"Dude, what kind of school did you go to? Hogwarts?" Darcy laughed as she passed her coat and hat to Stark.

“Looks like your girl got stolen right out from under you, Stark,” Dugan commented, his mustache lifted with his smirk. 

“Eh,” he shrugged carelessly, before putting their coats and hats in an extra chair. “He’ll send her back eventually. Trust me.”

The pub’s owner quickly bustled over, “The usual, Mr. Stark?”

“Mae, you darling woman,” Stark greeted her with that Hollywood smile of his and she blushed like a schoolgirl, not like the no-nonsense, middle aged tavern keeper she was. “Yes, please. Another round, boys?”

Bucky nodded absently, his eyes focused on Darcy and Morita, trying to talk himself out of cutting in. He had no right to feel a flare of jealousy as he watched Darcy dance with another man. She wasn’t his and he’d never really been the jealous type even with his own girlfriends. There was nothing wrong with a couple of dances between friends. He glanced at Stark, who wasn’t even paying any attention to his girl and the man she was dancing and laughing with. But Bucky couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away even as he tried to push that unpleasant feeling down.

Morita was a good dancer. His style was a little different than how everyone danced back in New York, but then he’d grown up in California. Darcy didn’t seem to be having any trouble following along. Although, they’d barely got started dancing before the song ended. “Hey, Reb,” Morita called to the piano player. “Know any Bob Wills?”

“Don’t go insulting us like that, Jimbo! ‘Course we do!” They launched into San Antonio Rose which even Bucky knew since it had been a pretty big hit a couple of years ago. 

“So, Barnes,” Stark said, clapping him on the shoulder and drawing his attention back from Darcy. He felt a flush of guilt at coveting the man’s girlfriend. “You’re not afraid of flying are you?”

“Are you kidding?” Steve exclaimed loudly. “He’d take a rocketship to Mars if he could.” Bucky shot a hard glare at Steve. “What? It’s true.” 

Bucky focused back on Stark who seemed amused. “No. I like flying just fine.”

“Good. Because we’re going to fly up to the Brit’s sharpshooting school in the morning and test out those rifles I modified for you. See what works best for you. You all will be starting your training next week and you’ll need it.” 

“Sounds good.” Bucky smiled, but tried to tamp down his excitement at the prospect of flying in Stark’s specially built plane. He’d read an article on it a couple of years ago in Popular Mechanics. He was sure Stark had made some changes to it since. The man was forever experimenting and improving.

“Don’t sound so excited. You’re going to love what I’ve done. Trust me. You, my friend, are going to have the best scope of any rifleman in any army.” Stark then started going into optics and German crafted lenses and how he’s improved on them, Bucky couldn’t help but allow himself to get sucked in. Monty heard them and moved closer by switching places with Dugan and joined the conversation.

Bucky got up to get another round at the bar when he heard, “Hey, Sarge! Catch!”

He turned to see Morita spin Darcy out and Bucky instinctively grabbed Darcy’s hand then twirled her into his arms as if they’d all practiced that move a thousand times.

The fiddler whistled, “Lookee here! A floor show! You boys got some pretty fancy footwork.”

“Don’t they?” Darcy called back laughingly. “I feel just like Ginger Rogers.”

“Any requests, Ginger?”

“I need to slow down a minute. How about I’m Thinking Tonight About my Blue Eyes?”

“You got it!”

The music changed to a slower lilting tune and one of the WACs hanging around the piano started to sing. 

“Would have been better for us both had we never

In this wide and wicked world never met”

More couples crowded around them to dance and Bucky adjusted his hold on Darcy and pulled her closer into him. She smiled up at him and said, “Hiya, Buck.” The happiness in her eyes as she gazed at made him want to lean down and taste those smiling red lips. 

So, of course, he stuck his foot in his mouth. “How do you know these hillbilly songs?”

The smile fell from her face and she stiffened a little in his arms. “Wow. I’d almost forgotten what a music snob you are.”

“All I meant is it don’t seem much like your style.”

She met his eyes in a challenge. “I like many different kinds of music and I also don’t look down on music that a lot of people enjoy just because it’s different from what I’m used to.”

He hated how disappointed she looked at him. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I’m a jerk.”

“You can be.” 

“So enlighten me. Why'd you pick this song?”

Her eyes softened and she smiled. “My grandparents loved the Carter Family. They had all their records. I remember staying with them as a kid and after they tucked me in hearing the distant sound of the music as I fell asleep. They played this one a lot. It was one of my grandma’s favorites. My grandpa had blue eyes.” She laughed a little and looked a little self conscious. “I know you don't really like the sappy songs though, Bucky.”

“But that’s a good memory, Darcy.” Bucky liked learning these little things about Darcy. Things she didn't seem to share with everyone else. He desperately wanted learn more, even though he shouldn't. “Maybe you can introduce me to some more of their music sometime. Expand my musical horizons.”

“I’d like that.” She smiled up at him her blue eyes shining again.

“Oh, tonight I'm thinking of my blue eyes

And I wonder if he ever thinks of me”