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Chapter Text

They made her an agent.  

She was pretty sure Coulson regretted it immediately.  It didn’t matter, though, because the paperwork was signed, the badge was issued, and the gun was loaded — there was no putting that cat back in the bag.  She was an agent.  

Agent Darcy Lewis. 

“First assignment Lewis.” The folder Bob dropped on her desk was thin.  Very thin. 

“There’s only one sheet of paper in here,” she pointed out. 

Bob shrugged, “I don’t read the mail; I just deliver it.” That was a lie.  He’d read her a gripping memo from Coulson to Pepper Potts just three days before over coffee.  The note didn’t expressly mention them having a torrid affair, but the subtext was there, in between the lines, about equipment requisitions.   

“You’re lying!” She called after Bob’s retreating back.  He just kept whistling as he dropped folders on desks as he went.  “He definitely read it.  It’s only one page. No way he didn’t read it,” she mumbled to herself.  

“Talking to your self Lewis?” Brock Rumlow leaned over the edge of her cubicle to reach for the folder, and she snatched it up, clutching it to her chest. 

“None of your business,” she snapped.   

“Just trying to be friendly to our newest agent.” He gave her a smarmy smile, and she rolled her eyes. 

“You can keep that particular brand of friendliness to yourself,” she warned, pushing to her feet.  She would read her first assignment somewhere safe from prying eyes. 

“Your loss,” Rumlow called after her, and Darcy raised a single finger in response. 

— 

“What do you think it’s going to be?” Jane poked at the still-closed folder with a screwdriver. 

“It’s not radioactive,” Darcy said, reaching out to rub away any marks left by Jane’s dirty tools.  

“Then why haven’t you read it yet?” Jane asked, one eyebrow cocked, a knowing look on her face. 

“I’m enjoying the moment,” Darcy said. “Once I open this, I’m an agent on a mission. I will have parameters and things to do. I might have to kill someone.” Jane gave her an incredulous look. 

“They’re not going to make you kill someone on your first mission.” Jane pointed out before ducking back down to fiddle with the machine in front of her before leaning back to give the folder another dark look.  “It would be thicker if it was a murder, right?” 

“I don’t know.” Darcy mused. “Maybe it’s just a name, and I’m supposed to figure the rest out." 

“I really don’t think that’s how it works,” Jane commented, her voice muffled by her renewed position half inside the machine. “Why don’t you open it and find out?” 

“The moment!” Darcy stared at the folder.  It would be thicker if it was a murder, right? There’s no way they’d just give her a name.  It would have to be something small.  Coulson hadn’t exactly been impressed with some of her practical test scores.  She reached out and poked at the corner of the folder with a finger.  Was it just her, or was it looking more ominous by the second? 

“Do you want me to read it to you?” Jane was standing at her side again, goggles pushed up into her hair, looking incredulous. 

“That would violate several federal laws,” Darcy said, and Jane shrugged.  

“Let them try and arrest me. Thor would throw a fit.” That was certainly true. Thor would just break Jane out of jail and dare them to do something about it. He was good like that sometimes. “Just read it!” 

“Okay, okay, okay.” Darcy picked up the folder and balanced it on her lap. “Maybe I should have coffee while I do this. You know, for moral support.” 

“Open it!” 

“Okay!” 

She flipped the folder open, read the page inside, pressed her lips into a thin line, got up without a word, and marched straight to Coulson’s office.  

“A CAT!” She threw the folder down onto his desk.  

“Thank you, agents,” Coulson said to the other three people in the room. “We’ll pick this up another time.”  

“A CAT!” she shrieked and tried to pretend she didn’t hear one of the departing agents snort in laughter.   

“Agent Lewis, if you’re unhappy with your assignment, you could do what all the other new agents do. Suck it up and get the job done anyway.” Coulson leaned back in his chair; his fingers steepled over his chest. 

“This isn’t an assignment! This is pet sitting!” She shoved at the folder and watched in satisfaction as it slid across the slick surface of Coulson’s desk to flutter to the ground. “I’m supposed to be an agent, damnit! I passed all the same tests as everyone else. I bet Melanie Banks isn’t out there reading about pet-sitting a cat! She’s probably on cool missions with earpieces and handlers and gadgets!” She dropped into a chair in defeat. 

“Agent Banks entered the agency with six years experience with the CIA, so no, her first mission is not pet sitting a cat.” Coulson held up a hand to pause her objection. “I’d like to point out that this is not just any cat. This cat has critical importance to the mission readiness of one of the most important assets in the country.” 

Darcy made a noise in the back of her throat and scrambled to grab the thrown mission summary from the floor.  “Name: Alpine [last name redacted]. Designation: Cat. Operating Parameters: Ensure adequate care for the duration of [redacted] operations,” she read before lowering the page to give Coulson a withering look. “Oh my god, I didn’t even think about how the way this is written implies I have a lower security clearance than the cat.” She buried her face in her hands. 

“Agent Lewis.” Coulson sounded like he was trying very hard to be patient. “We do not take on unimportant missions. You have been assigned this work because it needs to be done, and it needs to be done right. You took an oath. Are you saying you’re unwilling to uphold that oath because your mission involves a pet?” 

She lifted her head to stare at him in disbelief. “You’re serious?” 

“Always,” he deadpanned. 

“Fine. I will take care of the cat.” She snatched the now crumpled paper up again and looked at the address. “In fucking Brooklyn .” 

“Excellent.” Coulson picked up a pen and looked down at his desk. “Please don’t forget to submit receipts for any mission-related expenses.  Food, litter, toys, catnip.” She could have sworn the last was almost said around a laugh. 

“Of course,” she snapped, then turned on her heel and stormed out. 

—

Somewhere between marching out of Coulson’s office and making it to Brooklyn, Darcy made a decision. If her first mission as an agent was going to be taking care of some stupid high-security cat, then she would be the best fucking cat sitter to have ever existed. She was going to destroy this mission. She was going to blow it away.  

Remembering Coulson’s parting words, she stopped at a pet store. She now carried a bag with a collection of cat toys, all-natural treats, and several catnip mice guaranteed by the salesperson to be a hit with any feline. Darcy was going to wow this fucking cat. This cat was going to wish she was its owner.  

She stopped in front of the nice brownstone in Cobble Hill and triple-checked the address. This was not the neighborhood or the house where she would expect a classified agent to live. But it was on the paperwork in black and white. This was the right place. She marched up the steps, examined the buzzer panel, and leaned on the button for apartment B. The door clicked as it unlocked.  

“Fucking pretentious Brooklyn walkups,” she muttered as she shouldered her bag and started up the stairs. 

Two flights later, she stopped in front of the door to apartment B. The door with what looked like three extra deadbolts. The door with a very subtle security camera mounted in the frame. The door with what she knew was a well-hidden biometric scanner mounted to the left.  A very well-protected cat indeed. She knocked loudly.

The door opened on the last person she’d ever expected to see.  Bucky Barnes, the Winter Soldier, Captain America’s dark-horse-recently-recovered best friend, was standing in the frame, infamous metal hand braced high against the original wood. He was staring at her in abject confusion, mouth set in a thin line. 

Darcy straightened up, tugging at her blazer, and smiled. “I’m Agent Lewis. Coulson sent me to,” Darcy took a breath and hoped to god she was actually in the right place. “care for Alpine?”  

The confusion cleared, and Bucky’s lips twitched in a half smile. “Oh, great.” He stepped back to open the door wider, moving aside so she could come inside. “C’mon in.” 

She followed him into the apartment, looking around curiously. It was homey. More so than she would have expected from someone with his reputation. Between all the homey touches, there was also proof that a cat very much lived here. Little ceramic bowls at the edge of the kitchen cabinets, toys on the floor, wall-mounted perches, and walkways mounted all around the living room near the ceiling. She stared in amazement as she followed him all the into the main open room of the apartment. 

“She’s hiding right now,” he said. His voice was deep and soft. Darcy stopped her staring.  

“That’s okay. I’m sure we’re going to be great friends soon.” She was going to be pet-sitting for an Avenger.   

“Thank you for doing this, Agent Lewis.“ 

“Darcy, you can call me Darcy,” she supplied quickly. 

“Thank you for doing this, Darcy.” He smiled at her, and it was devastating. Jane was going to lose her mind. “I hope it’s not too much trouble. Coulson promised to help me find someone after I had issues on our last mission.” He ran a hand, the metal one, through his hair. Darcy hoped the way her eyes tracked it wasn’t too obvious.   

“Always happy to help. The uh—mission dossier was a little light. Maybe you could walk me through what you need?” she asked. 

“Dossier? Coulson took this seriously, huh?” He rubbed at his face. 

“We take the needs of the Avengers very seriously, Sergeant Barnes,” Darcy tried to channel Coulson’s sincere respect. She had a feeling she’d succeeded when color rose high on Barnes’ cheeks. 

“Call me Bucky, please. This probably isn’t your dream assignment. Sorry about that.” He actually looked apologetic, and Darcy shook her head emphatically. 

“No, no. Nothing I’d rather do.” The lie was worth it when he smiled again.   

“Okay, well, she’s not a particularly hard cat. She likes to just do her own thing a lot of the time, but uh — I might spoil her a little bit.” He looked bashful, and Darcy felt affection bubbling up in her chest. “She’ll come out eventually so you can meet her, but let me show you around and where all her stuff is.” 

“Sounds great, Bucky.” Darcy gave him a winning smile, and his blush got deeper. Oh, she was going to take excellent care of this cat.  

What followed was the most comprehensive mission prep Darcy had ever experienced. Admittedly this was her first mission, but she had to imagine even Coulson would be blown away by the level of detail given to the explanation of Alpine’s food prep, play schedule, toy preferences, cuddle needs, and litter cleaning expectations. When Bucky’d shown her all of it, he passed over a stack of paper where all the information was written down for later reference.   

“So how do I get a hold of you when I have to ship out?” he asked. They were back in the living room, sitting on opposite ends of the couch, waiting for Alpine to make an appearance so Darcy could meet her.  

“You can call me or text me,” she offered. “I’m meant to be available anytime. I’ll leave my number for you.”  

“Good, good,” he said, “Oh! Here she is.” His eyes were trained on the door to the bedroom, “There’s my pretty girl.” Darcy almost melted at the way his voice changed when he talked to the fluffy white cat hovering between rooms. “Come here, pretty girl, tsk tsk tsk.” He dropped a hand low in offering.   

The cat let out a loud yowl and then pranced across the room to butt her head against his fingers, then jumped up into his lap. She rubbed against his chest enthusiastically and started up a rumbling purr. Darcy had never been more jealous of an animal in her life.   

“You’ve got a new friend, pretty girl,” Bucky cooed at the cat. “Darcy is going to stay with you when I have to leave.” He looked up to Darcy, and she took that as her cue, holding out one of the toys she’d picked up on her way over.  

“Hi, Alpine.” She tried to sound welcoming. She had a feeling the catnip did more than her tone. Either way, it worked, and Alpine left her gorgeous owner behind to rub against Darcy’s fingers before delicately taking the toy in her mouth and leaping from the couch to one of the wall-mounted shelves.  

Bucky laughed, watching her progress as she took her kill around the room to what was clearly a favored perch and settled in to rub on it. “Now you’ve done it,” he said. “She’s going to hide up there with that for hours.” He sounded impossibly fond. Darcy was starting to understand why caring for this cat was mission-critical.  

“I hope she likes it,” she said and smiled. “So if you think we’re in good shape, I can get out of your way, and you just let me know next time you’re called up.”  

“Of course.” Bucky stood, brushing cat hair off his pants. “Thank you again for this,” he said, like she wasn’t doing her actual job.  

“You’re so welcome.  Alpine and I are going to be just fine.” Darcy let him lead her to the door, and with another smile, she was alone in his hallway. “Oh my god,” she whispered to herself as she started for the stairs. “I am Bucky Barnes’ cat sitter.”  

—

It took two weeks for him to call. Two weeks of grunt work and miscellaneous mini-missions. Two weeks of Darcy daydreaming about his smile and soft laugh. She’d started to give up hope that the Avengers would ever get called out when her phone rang at 2 am. 

“‘Ello?” She answered it blindly, already frustrated. 

“Darcy?” Her name was being yelled over the sound of a blaring alarm. She held the phone out from her ear to squint at the screen. 

“Bucky? Hello?” 

“We’ve got a mission.” Bucky was shouting; she heard a scuffle, someone laughing, and then the background noise cut off. “Sorry about that. Stark doesn’t have any subtlety with the alarms. Are you going to be free to check in on Alpine? I think it’ll only be a few days.” 

She sat, “Yes, of course I can. Do you need me to go over there now?” She was already looking around her room, trying to figure out where the closest pair of pants was. 

“No, no. She’ll be fine tonight. Just stop by sometime tomorrow. Feel free to stay over there if it’s easier for you.” He let out a breath. “I’ll check in with you if I can.” 

“I’m on it,” she reassured. “You’ve got nothing to worry about.” 

“I don’t doubt that,” he said. There was another loud noise in the background, “I gotta run. Thank you again.” 

“Anytime,” she said, and then the line went dead. She threw herself back on her pillows and stared up at the ceiling. Mission Cat started tomorrow. 

—

Pet sitting a cat was boring. 

Darcy wouldn’t say she was a dog person. She also wouldn’t say she was a cat person. She’d never had pets as a kid and hadn’t set down roots long enough as an adult to get any. But cats were clearly the lower maintenance of the two.   

She’d been in Bucky’s apartment for two hours. She’d cleaned the already pristine litter box and ensured the water was fresh, cold, and from the filter. She’d tried waving around a few wand toys, making welcoming noises, and sitting quietly in the hopes that Alpine would appear, all with no results. She was honestly starting to worry there’d been a catnapping. She scanned the empty perches around the living room ceiling one more time and sighed. 

‘Alllpine. Alpine?” she called, wandering around the room.  “Come out, kitty kitty kitty.” She stopped short of the doorway to the only bedroom. He’d never indicated she couldn’t go in his room, but it seemed like a violation. She peered into the room, no sign of Alpine. “Here, kitty kitty.” Nothing. 

His bedroom was lived-in but clean. All the dirty laundry was in hampers, but the bed wasn’t made. There were no dishes, but the nightstands were stacked with well-worn books. There was no sign of the cat. “Oh god damnit,” she muttered. Crawling around on Bucky Barnes’ nice hardwood floors had not been on her to-do list for today, but it absolutely paid off.  

 Alpine was curled up in a ball under the bed in all her glorious fluffiness. She opened one big green eye when Darcy stretched to hold out a hand in her direction, stared at Darcy with barely concealed disdain, and then closed both eyes again. Darcy stared at the cat with completely unconcealed frustration. “Fine, be that way, your eminence.” She pulled out her phone and snapped a photo, then got up. 

So far, she’d accomplished nothing on the long list of daily tasks for the cat, and it didn’t look like that would improve anytime soon. She dropped back onto the couch and looked at the photo on her phone. At least Alpine looked content in her under-bed cave. Darcy’s thumb hovered over the button that would send the photo to Bucky. He’d told her she could text him anytime, but he might not always be able to respond. She hit send. 

The response was immediate. A heart-eyed emoji followed by, “If she doesn’t come out eventually, you can use the wet food to lure her. Thank you!” Darcy stared down at her phone, barely able to restrain her audible awww. Bucky Barnes was a softie. Darcy leaned back into the couch cushions and snatched up the TV remote. It looked like she was here for the long haul.  

Alpine didn’t emerge until well past dinner time. When she did appear, she seemed reluctantly interested in Darcy, mainly as a source of said dinner. Darcy indulged her, filling her bowl with the dry food mixed with wet that Bucky had explained was her preference. Then she settled on the floor to wave one of the cat wands back and forth. Alpine batted at it listlessly before letting out a plaintive meow and looking around.  

“I know; he’s on a mission, though. He’ll be back real soon,” Darcy reassured. Alpine let out a series of chirping calls. “Do you want to snuggle?” Darcy opened her arms in what she hoped was a welcoming way. Alpine stared at her, blinking slowly, then turned to jump onto the wall perches that would lead her to her high bed shelf. “Fine then!” Darcy called after her. “I’ll just be here.”  

She stayed until almost midnight, replaced the water twice, and cleaned the litter box again. When her eyes started drooping, she thought about taking Bucky up on his offer to stay, but it felt like too much. She gathered up her things, gave one last look at the cat watching her from near the ceiling, and let herself out.  

—

Day two was almost an exact repeat of day one. Day three was similar, but Alpine let Darcy rub a hand from her head down her back exactly once. Day four, she rubbed against Darcy’s ankles while she prepared her food. Day five, she met Darcy at the door and deigned to participate in about ten minutes of playtime.   

It was progress — but not the most exciting progress of the week. No, that award went to the actual text conversation with Bucky Barnes that was not only happening but pretty active on Darcy’s phone. It started with just videos, pictures, and updates of Alpine, but it became an actual chat somewhere around day three. 

It started with a picture of Alpine sitting on a stack of books on his nightstand. It expanded into a conversation about which of the books were worth reading.  Moved on to a discussion of books in general and just took off from there. He told her about some good places to get takeout near his house. He defended his DVD collection when Darcy found it while bored on day four and agreed with her opinion that bananas were the worst—and sent appropriately consoling memes when she ranted about the patriarchy, specifically in regards to Brock Rumlow’s office behavior.  

Now she was curled up on the end of the couch, Alpine purring at the other end, debating the merits of breakfast for dinner with a superhero.   

She was in so much trouble. 

There was a pause in the texts, and Darcy rubbed her fingers and clucked in Alpine’s direction. To her surprise, the cat gave her a haughty look, stood up in a back arching stretch, and ambled down the couch to curl up in Darcy’s lap. “Well, hello there, pretty girl,” she said in her best impression of Bucky’s version of baby talk. Alpine purred loudly. “Why don’t we send your daddy a photo of you being so sweet?”  

Darcy held up her camera, paused to reconsider the implications of sending Bucky a selfie with his cat on his couch, decided it was absolutely within mission parameters, and snapped the photo. It was a Saturday. Darcy was not dressed to go into the office. Even she would admit her cleavage was making a pretty significant cameo. But Alpine was clearly the intended focus, even if Darcy’s smiling face and ample chest were present in the background. It would be easy to explain away if it went poorly.  

She loaded the photo into the text chain and said, “Look who finally decided she wanted to be friends.” That was casual. That was focused on Alpine. That absolutely did not suggest that Darcy wanted the very attractive owner of said cat to possibly think about cute she looked in his house, watching his pet. She hit send. 

The little typing bubbles appeared, disappeared, and then appeared again. Darcy absently ran her hand over Alpine’s head and back as she watched her phone screen with bated breath. The dots disappeared again. She squeezed her phone, her heart rate picking up. They appeared again. She was just about to put the phone down and distract herself with another movie when it buzzed in her hand. 

“Pretty girl. Wish I was there.” It was followed by a heart-eyed emoji and a winky face. 

Darcy blinked a few times. It could be about Alpine. It could be about her. She scratched at Alpine’s ears.  “Your dad is going to ruin me,” she murmured. Alpine kept purring in response.    

—

Bucky returned on day seven. Darcy was at the office, filing paperwork on a side assignment she’d had the week before delivering a document packet to the UN. She was head down, deep in form completion mode, when a knock on the side of her cubicle demanded her attention. 

“Rumlow, I’m not going to tell you again. It’s never going to happen,” she said without looking up from her papers. 

“Rumlow been bothering you again?” Bucky’s voice was lower than she remembered and more dangerous. Darcy spun in her chair to find him looking more dangerous as well. He was still in his gear, metal arm on full display, hair sweat-damp, eyes narrowed. 

“No, no, sometimes,” she admitted, and when his brow furrowed in concern, “It’s fine.” Darcy jumped to her feet. “You’re back!” 

“I am; I wanted to stop by before I headed home.” His smile was slow to appear but just as blinding as she remembered.  

“I’m so glad. Looks like it wasn’t too bad.” She let her eyes scan him for injuries, and when she found none, she looked back to his face.  

“No, not too bad,” he agreed. “Thank you again for watching Alpine and for all the—“ He nodded toward her phone, and her smile widened. “Nice to have someone to talk to when I’m trapped in a perch.” 

“Buck?” Steve Rogers was moving through the bullpen like it was totally normal for him to be here. Darcy saw him drawing curious eyes, those that weren’t already on her and Bucky that was. “There you are. You rushed off the jet.” Steve came to a stop and then gave Darcy a winning smile. “Steve Rogers.” He held out his hand. 

“This is Agent Lewis,” Bucky introduced her, and Steve’s eyes widened before he quickly recovered. 

“Nice to meet you,” he said. 

“Likewise,” Darcy agreed and shook his hand.  

“Bucky was so grateful you were here taking care of things. We really appreciate it.” Steve was so sincere.  Bucky’s cheeks went a little pink, and Darcy bit her lip to contain her smile. 

“I was just about to tell him no thanks needed. Alpine is great.” Darcy said politely, very aware of all the eyes and ears focused on them. 

Steve seemed to have the same idea, glancing around before slapping a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “We gotta debrief Buck so you can get home,” he said. 

“I’ll be right there.” Bucky waved him off, and Steve left with one last smile for Darcy. Bucky waited until he was out of earshot, then turned back to her. He leaned a little closer, “I know it’s technically part of your job, but I really am grateful. Thought maybe you’d let me take you out to dinner to say thank you properly?” He looked nervous. One of his hands clenched on the top of the cubicle wall; he ran the other through his shaggy hair. 

“I’d love that.” She tried not to sound too enthusiastic. It was a thank-you dinner, not a — 

“It’s a date,” Bucky said, and his grin went wide. “Tomorrow night?” 

“Yes! Yes, that’s perfect.” 

“I’ll text you with details.” He knocked on the cubicle wall. “Gotta get going.” He did not look like he wanted to leave. She tried not to read into it. 

“See you around.  Say hi to Alpine for me.” She was grinning so hard her cheeks hurt. 

“Will do.” With one last look, he turned to go. She watched him go, and she was not all sorry about the view. 

“That’s quite the development.” Rumlow’s voice was much too close, and Darcy spun on her toes to find him leaning against the other side of her cube. 

“What do you want?” she asked as she settled back into her desk chair. 

“You know fraternization is against the rules, right?” Rumlow looked smug.  

“Then why do you keep asking me out?” she asked, picking up her pen. 

“You’re not currently assigned to work for me. Means we could absolutely get dinner sometime.” She looked up to find Rumlow’s eyes locked firmly on her chest. Typical. 

“Never going to happen,” she said, pulling her blazer closed. “Get lost, Rumlow.” 

He hummed. “Never say never, Lewis.”  

“I have work to do,” she warned, and he let out a huff and turned to leave. She waited until she was sure he was gone and let her smile come back, biting at her lip. Tomorrow night couldn’t come fast enough.

Chapter Text

It’s a date he’d said. A date .  

But could that mean a business date? It was technically a thank you for a job well done. She should wear her pantsuit. But then what if he’d meant it as an actual date? As in, he was attracted to her too. Nothing would kill a date faster than her showing up dressed like an agent.  

She changed clothes a dozen times. She video-called Jane twice. She settled on canceling on him. 

She’d just picked up her phone to tell him she was sick when the doorbell rang. “Shit,” she stumbled out of her room and through the living room. She was still in the last outfit she’d tried on for Jane, the little black dress they’d both agreed probably showed just a bit too much of the girls.  

She stopped short of opening the front door and looked down at herself. The girls were definitely on display, but so was the narrow nip of her waist. She straightened her skirt, stepped into her heels, and fluffed her hair. Well, he was the one that called it a date. It was definitely going to be one in this outfit. She ripped open the door with a full smile.  

Oh, it was a date, alright. And it was going very well.  

He took her for sushi at an upscale place about ten blocks from her apartment. The conversation was the perfect mix of interesting and flirty. The food was perfection. He snuck exactly the right number of glances at her cleavage.  

After dinner, he took her by the hand without hesitation and led her to the nearest subway station. Darcy used to make fun of those girls in heels who clung to their dates rather than holding themselves up on a moving train. Never again. She took full advantage of the rumbling train to lean into Bucky’s side, hanging heavily on their intertwined fingers. 

By the time he led her into the replica malt shop in Cobble Hill, Darcy was well aware she was in trouble. He was funny and smart and charming, and she was enamored. He was smiling big as he held the door for her, handing her into the pharmacy soda shoppe combo.  

“How did you even find this place?” she asked, peering around at the old-timey decor and shelves stocked with vintage candies.  

“Are you kidding?” His smile grew as he pulled her along to get in line at the soda counter. “This is why Steve and I have apartments in this neighborhood.” He winked at her, and Darcy felt her heart flutter. 

“You bought an apartment to be closer to a vintage ice cream shop?” she laughed. 

“Oh, you think that’s bad. Steve bought the entire soda shoppe,” he said. 

“He what!?” Darcy whisper yelled. “Steve Rogers owns this place?” She peered around with new interest. 

“He’s a silent investor or something.” Bucky ran a hand through his hair and looked a little bashful. “Do you know what you want?” He nodded to the menu board.  

“What do you suggest? You’re the expert, right?” she teased, and his blush got deeper. God, she was in so much trouble. 

“You want me to order for you?” he asked, and there was something in his tone or his eyes that made her feel like it was a meaningful question for him—a throwback to his younger years. 

“What a gentleman.” She batted her lashes at him, and he laughed. “Sure, order for me,” she agreed. 

“Ahh, Mr. Barnes!” The teenage kid behind the counter seemed thrilled to see Bucky. Darcy could almost see literal stars in his eyes. “What can I do for you tonight?”  

“Hi Justin,” Bucky said, “Can I get an eggcreme and a brownie sundae with extra cherries?” 

“Right away!” Justin gave Darcy a smile and rushed off, leaving Bucky standing there with twenty in his hand, looking amused. 

“He never takes my money,” Bucky said before tucking the bill into the tip jar. “Good kid. You wanna grab us a table?”  

“Absolutely.” Darcy untangled their fingers with some regret and scanned the shop to find an open table.  

Bucky stepped up beside her holding both their treats before she’d managed to snag one. “What about over there?” He nodded toward a small table where a couple was getting up in the back.  

“Perfect.” She smiled and led the way. It was a tight fit with his broad shoulders, but Darcy wouldn’t complain about another reason to get close. He smelled fucking amazing. “So which of these is mine?” she asked after they’d settled at the table. 

“Well, I figured you’d like the sundae, but if you want the eggcreme it’s yours.” He pushed both toward her with a wink, and Darcy was blown away by how bright his blue eyes were, even in the low light of their corner table. 

“Which is your favorite?” she asked.  

He shrugged. “I can’t say I’ve ever turned down something sweet. Although if you want both, I’d be happy to just watch.” His smirk wasn’t subtle at all, and Darcy rolled her eyes with a laugh. 

“You like to watch Bucky?” She pitched her voice low and loved the way his adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed in response. 

“I think I’d like almost anything if you did it, to be honest,” he said, and Darcy was suddenly barely interested in the quickly melting ice cream in front of her.  

“I think,” she said slowly, “I’d like to try the sundae.” 

“Good choice.” His voice was thick, and his hand shook a bit as he pulled the tall eggcreme glass across the table.  

“How’s Alpine been since you got home?” Darcy asked to try and disperse some of the tension. 

He smiled fondly, “She’s good. Missing you, I think. She whined at the door the first few days.”  

“Aww, maybe I can come visit her before you ship out next,” Darcy said. She did kind of miss the cat. She was happy the owner was home, though.  

“I think she’d like that,” he agreed. “So what do you do when you’re not caring for mission-critical cats?” 

“I’m going to assume you mean outside of work since we’re in public, and I could never disclose classified mission details here,” she teased, and his crinkled up in response.  

“Of course,” he agreed. “You’ve told me about your favorite movies, books, and comics. And about your theory on pizza rat. Tell me what you do for fun outside of work.” He took a big sip of his eggcreme. 

“Mostly, I spend time with Jane, which usually means helping with notes and math. I like to go to the Grand Bazaar on Sundays,” she said, then popped one of the cherries in her mouth.  

He watched her lips close around the fruit with wide eyes, then blinked a few times. “The flea market in Manhattan?”  

“That’s the one,” she agreed. 

“We should go.” It was barely a question, and Darcy felt her heart speed up. The first date wasn’t even over, and he wanted another one. She took a bite of ice cream to cover her excitement. “Are you free this Sunday?” 

She swallowed quickly. “Yes!” then quieter, “Yes. I would love to go. Have you ever been before?” 

“No, not yet. Tell me about it?” he asked. 

“So there’s all these stalls. You have to go early, though…” She was off. It didn’t take much to get her talking, and she really did enjoy the flea market. She’d never been one to turn down a good bargain.  

They spent an hour more at Steve’s antique soda shoppe. She told him all about the market. He told her what it was like to go on dates back when the shop was new. When they’d both finished their deserts, he took her hand and led her back out onto the street. They were closer to his place; she expected to part ways outside the soda shop. Instead, he turned them toward the subway without a pause in the conversation.  

He held her hand until they were on the train, and then, when the subway car was packed, he wrapped an arm around her waist and let her brace against his chest again for the whole ride to her stop. He walked her right up to her door, where she paused, keys in hand, leaning back against the rough wood to stare up into his bright blue eyes.  

She used the hand still tangled with his to pull him in close; his eyes flicked down to her mouth and then back up. “You told me all about soda fountain dates in the ’40s,” she said, “but you never told me how they ended.”  

He licked his lips and braced himself with one hand on the door. “Depends on who you went out with,” he said, his voice pitched low. 

“And what if I was out with the infamous Bucky Barnes?” She shifted, pushing off the door to press against his chest. One hand trailing up to rest on the curve between his shoulder and neck, just brushing the fine hairs at the base of his skull. 

His smile went crooked. “Infamous, huh?” he asked. 

“Absolutely,” she agreed, and then she curled her fingers around the back of his neck and tugged his mouth down to hers.  

God, could he kiss. His mouth moved against hers beautifully. One of his hands slid down her arm to wrap around her waist, pulling her tighter to him. She made a low noise in response and opened her mouth, brushing his lips with her tongue. He tasted like ice cream, and she let him deepen the kiss, going almost limp against him as he pulled her closer still.  

When they finally broke apart, both panting, pressed chest to chest, Darcy could hear her heart thundering in her ears. She opened her eyes to find him watching her with heavy-lidded eyes. His hair was messy from where her fingers had channeled through it, his lips red and swollen. She stared at him for a long moment and then lunged up on her toes to capture his mouth again. 

He grunted against the assault and then steadied them against the door again. This time there wasn’t any pretense or testing the waters. Instead, his mouth opened against hers immediately, and when she ground her hips forward, he let out a whine in the back of his throat. She gasped at the feeling of him hard and heavy through his jeans against her stomach.  

She dropped her keys, and they clattered against the hallway floor as she tangled her now free hand in the back of his shirt. He pulled away from her mouth to start trailing hot, nipping kisses along her neck, rapidly approaching the expanse of her cleavage exposed by the dress. She arched against the door, breathing heavily as his mouth left a wet trail, only to stop at the top of her breasts.  

“Wha—?” She looked down to find him staring up at her through his lashes. 

He pulled back just a little and straightened back up to his full height. “Sorry, sorry.” He pressed kisses to her upturned lips as he spoke. “I got carried away. You make me forget.” His hands were trailing up and down her sides as he spoke, his hips still pressed firmly into hers.  

“No, no.” She clenched her hands. “I want it. Want you.” She felt mindless. She squirmed, pressing her thighs together, and enjoyed how he grunted at the movement. She took a deep breath, and he matched her. 

“To answer your question,” he said breathlessly, “if it was 1940, I would have kissed your cheek and left ten minutes ago.”  

“I don’t believe that for a second,” she teased, and his grin in response was wicked. 

“Sometimes.” He drew the word out and took another steadying breath, and then moved back just enough to remove the pressure of his body against hers. “Sometimes, we might find somewhere quiet and dark and get into trouble.” 

“Is that was this was? Trouble?” She released him and straightened her clothes, feeling suddenly shy. 

He caught at her hand and reached out to tip her chin up to him, “The best kind,” he said with a wink. “You’re amazing.” He pressed another quick kiss to her lips. “Still on for Sunday?” he asked. 

“Absolutely,” she breathed against his lips. “Is this goodnight?” 

“Regretfully,” he said, then ducked down to pick up her keys. Instead of handing them to her, he reached around and unlocked the door for her. “I’ve got an early morning, and if we keep going, I don’t think I’ll ever want to leave.”  

It was a bold admission, and Darcy wanted to push the issue. She was pretty sure if she even hinted that she would prefer he come inside, he would, and she was very interested in what would come next. But at the same time, she liked the idea of going a little slower, of waiting until a night when they had all the time in the world.  

“It’s going to be a long wait,” she said as she stepped back into her apartment. Tugging her keys from the door as she went.  

“You’re telling me, doll.” He looked perfect; his hair mussed, lips swollen, shirt stretched from her grasping fingers.  

“See you in a few days,” she said, practically hanging off the door. 

“Until then.” He nodded, and Darcy shut the door with a soft click. She pressed her back against it and took a rough breath. 

“Oh my god,” she whispered to herself. 

— 

“And he just left?” Jane sounded as amazed as Darcy felt.  

“Yep,” Darcy said around a bite of her donut. It was the next day, and she’d met Jane before work for a recap. “He was an absolute gentleman and also, you know, not .” Darcy gave Jane a meaningful look, and they both giggled. 

“So you’re going out again? What about what Rumlow said about dating a coworker?” Jane asked. 

“We’re definitely going out again.” Darcy took another bite of donut. “I’m not actually sure about that nonsense Rumlow was spouting.” She shrugged. “I’m not going to worry about it.” 

“Is that wise?” Jane asked, and Darcy sighed. Jane was always so practical. 

“There’s two options, right? Either Rumlow was lying to try and get me to go out with him, or he wasn’t lying. If he was lying, then who cares. If he wasn’t lying, who cares.” Darcy shrugged. “Bucky Barnes is perfect and makes my toes curl. Do you know how rare that is, Jane?!” 

“I know how rare that is.” Jane agreed. “I just want you to be careful.” 

“I’m on the pill,” Darcy quipped, and Jane rolled her eyes. “I’m safe.” 

“You know very well that’s not what I meant,” Jane said, resigned. 

Darcy was about to give a smart reply when her phone buzzed on the table at her side. She snatched it up, and her chest went warm at the sight of Bucky’s name in her notifications. She clicked on the text and smiled.  

“Is that him?” Jane asked knowingly, “What’s he say?” 

“He says good morning and that he can barely wait the three days until Sunday.” Darcy smiled to herself and typed a quick reply. 

“I’m surprised your cheeks don’t hurt for all the grinning,” Jane snipped, and Darcy flicked a loose donut sprinkle at her. 

“Cheer up, you old crone,” Darcy teased, and Jane smirked. 

“I’m not asking Thor to double with you,” Jane said with a sniff. 

“Good, you two are gross on dates.” Darcy popped the last of her donut in her mouth. “Tell me about work.” 

“Chew before you speak,” Jane whined, but then she started to talk about her research anyway, and Darcy settled in to listen until she had to get to the office.  

— 

Three days was forever. Three days felt even longer when one had to repeatedly make deliveries to the UN while wearing a pencil skirt and heels. By the time work ended on Friday, Darcy was so ready for the weekend that she could barely stand it. She had just managed to distract herself by rewatching Dog Cops on Saturday afternoon when her phone rang.  

Bucky’s contact lit up the screen, and she answered on the first ring. “Hello.” She sounded breathless already. 

“Hey, Darce.” He sounded sad, and she could hear the loud hum of an engine in the background. Her heart sank. “I got bad news, doll. We got called out.” 

“That’s okay.” She tried to sound upbeat and knew she failed as he released a heavy breath. 

“I’m sorry to miss our date. I’ll make it up to you.” There was yelling in the background, and the speaker was muffled for a moment before he was back. “I’m sorry, I don’t have long before I have to go.” 

“I understand. Are you —“ she trailed off. Did she have the right after one date and some texts to ask anything of him? She decided to anyway. “Stay safe, please?”  

He chuckled. “You going to worry about me, Darcy?” He sounded pleased. 

“Yes,” she said, her voice firm. “I’ve decided to worry about you. Got a problem with it?” 

He laughed again, “I wouldn’t dare. Haven’t had anyone worry about me in awhile, is all.” That made her heart feel heavy. 

“Well, now you do, so you better be careful and come home safe.” She smiled at the phone. “I’ll go over and look after Alpine this afternoon.” 

“Thank you.” She had a feeling she was being thanked for more than cat-sitting. “You can stay over if it’s easier,” he offered. “I like the idea of you in my bed.” The last was said low and quiet. Darcy’s smile got bigger. 

“You do, huh?” She pressed a hand to her heated chest. “Too bad you’re on your way out of town. We would have had plenty of time on Sunday for you to see the reality.” 

He groaned, “You’re cruel,” he said. There was another bang in the background. “I gotta go. I may not have my phone as much this time, but text me, yeah?” 

“I will,” she promised. “Be safe,” she demanded again. 

“I will,” he agreed. “I’ll let you know more when I can,” he said, and the call disconnected.  

Darcy flopped back on the couch, feeling heated and frustrated. He liked the idea of her in his bed. She was in so much trouble. 

— 

She went to the flea market by herself. She’d already picked out the perfect sundress for it, and she didn’t want to waste it, which was how she found herself walking up the stairs to check on Alpine on Sunday afternoon in her wedge heels with a cloth tote full of kale and vegetables on her arm.  

“Alpine,” she called as she hip-checked the door open, “I brought you organic fresh-grown catnip.”  

“You’ll want to close the door slowly, Agent Lewis.” The voice was cold, and Darcy’s body froze even as her mind raced. She let the door close and turned to face the apartment.  

A man was standing in the living room, his face in the shadows created by the late afternoon sun. “Who are you?” She slowly lowered her tote to the floor, keeping her hands spread. She wasn’t armed. She felt so stupid for not being armed. 

“I’m an old friend of Sergeant Barnes, and you’re his new friend,” the man said, and Darcy took a slow step forward, then stopped as the barrel of a gun was leveled in her direction.  

“If you know I’m an agent, then you know I’m only here for work,” she said. She knew the Avengers had enemies. She knew that. She had not known they had enemies like this, though — she still wasn’t sure she knew what this was. Her eyes scanned the apartment for Alpine, but there was no sign of her. 

The man let out a low chuckle. “I doubt the Winter Soldier kisses all his friends the way he did you earlier this week.” Darcy’s heart started to pound. 

“And what does who I kiss have to do with you?” She still had the door at her back. Of course, it was closed, and the moment needed to get it open would be more than enough for mystery man to fire. And she wasn’t fucking armed.  

“You’ll want to step away from the door Agent Lewis.” The gun was waved toward the couch, and Darcy hesitated until the ominous click of the hammer being drawn back made her pulse spike. “Now, if you please.”  

“And what happens when I get over there?” She asked the question slowly as she moved across the room. Edging closer to the couch while her mind raced for backup options. The living room was filled with huge windows, but they were on the third floor. Bucky had neighbors, but none that were agents at his request. The apartment had cameras, but they weren’t actively monitored, again at his request. It was secure, very secure, but also obviously not as secure as they’d hoped. She was ripped from her thoughts when her leg hit the edge of the couch.  

“Sit.” The man was digging into a pocket and then held up a pair of handcuffs. “Put these on.” He tossed the cuffs into her lap, and Darcy stared down at the cold metal. Putting on the cuffs wasn’t a death sentence, but it was certainly going to complicate whatever happened next.  

“And then what happens?” She was still staring down at the glinting silver cuffs on her lap, so she didn’t see the man move, but she certainly felt the gun when it slammed into her temple.

—-

Darcy came to with a groan, completely unamused by her current circumstances. Most notably, although admittedly not most importantly, she was on a very dirty floor in her once very pretty sundress. Probably more importantly, she was chained to a set of sturdy pipes that, at initial inspection, were mounted firmly to the cement block wall of what seemed to be a damp cellar. It was all so cliche that Darcy wanted to roll her eyes and succumb to the headache pounding behind her eyes.  

Darcy blinked against the only bit of light coming into the room from around the door, wincing as the motion pulled at the skin around her eyes. She reached up with both hands, trying to minimize the clanking of the chains against the pipes to touch gently at her temple. “Great,” she muttered as her fingers brushed against dried blood caked along the side of her face.  

Time to take stock. Taken by a mystery man from the most secure apartment she’d ever been in. Deposited in a second location. Bleeding from the head and probably, no definitely seeing double, just a little bit. It was a Sunday, so she hadn’t been dressed for work: no tracker, no weapons, nothing. No one was expecting her to be anywhere until Monday morning at 9 am, and she had no idea how long she’d been unconscious.  

She was fucked.  

No, no. She was an Agent, goddamnit! She passed all the tests! She did all those stupid practical exams. She studied for hours and worked her ass off. She could do this. She just needed — she needed — she scanned the room and found nothing. Her shoulders slumped. She looked down at her hands, curled in her lap again, fingertips stained with blood. She needed to get free.  

She knew a dozen ways to get out of standard-issue handcuffs, but these were heavy-duty steel cuffs. For those, she only had three options, and two of them required accessories she didn’t have, which really only left her with one choice. Broken thumb. She knew the theory of it. She’d read the manual and watched the videos. None of that translated to an actual willingness to tuck her thumb against her palm and exert the force necessary to force it out of joint.  

She took a deep breath and then another. She squeezed her eyes tight and pressed down on her right thumb with the opposite hand until she could feel the tendons start to pull. She Sucked in another deep breath, trying to block out the pounding of the concussion against her temples. The feeling pulled a low whine from her throat, but it was all overshadowed by a deep booming that shook the entire cellar.  

“Rescue or certain death?” Darcy mumbled, looking up at the ceiling and instantly regretting it as another thunderous boom sent dust raining down into her eyes. “I am so not amused by this damsel in distress bullshit.” She hissed as she used the chains to leverage herself to standing. Now the question was, should she still be trying to get free, or should she be waiting on a rescue?  

She was just starting to lean toward getting back down to the business of breaking her thumb when the door to the cell was blown off the hinges in a blast that had her ducking to cover her head. The sudden influx of light from the hallway was enough to blind her before solidifying into the silhouette of a man in recognizable SHIELD tactical gear. For a moment, Darcy let her mind run wild with fantasies of the man in the doorway being Bucky. He’d march across the room, wrap an arm around her waist, and cradle her against his firm chest before telling her that everything was going to be okay.  

Instead.  

“Lewis, you ready to be rescued?” Brock Rumlow’s slimy voice filled the cellar, and Darcy had to repress a shudder as he stomped over to her, his constant shadow Jack Rollins hovering in the hallway as backup.  

“Gotta get these cuffs off for you.” He said, and she hated the rub of his gloved hands against her wrists as he bent over her shorter form to get at her hands. She could feel his breath hot against her chest, bared by the low neckline of her sundress. 

“Eyes up, Rumlow,” she snapped. He grinned up at her, and she sneered back.  

“I’m going to assume that’s the concussion talking, and you’ll find a way to show your appreciation properly once you’re all cleaned up.” He finished with the cuffs as he spoke, and Darcy ripped her hands back so fast she almost over-balanced, catching herself on the pipes in an effort to avoid any further contact with Rumlow.  

“How’d you know where I was?” Darcy asked instead of acknowledging this latest bit of sexist bullshit.  

“Believe it or not, the cat,” Rollins spoke up from his position by the door.  

“Alpine?” Darcy’s concussion must be worse than she thought. 

“It’s got a tracker that sounds an alarm when it leaves the apartment. Your kidnapper left the door open, and the cat got out. Triggered a level 5 alert.” Rumlow was already peering around the doorway with Rollins and ignoring Darcy’s outstretched hand, a blatant request for a weapon of her own. 

“Barnes likes to keep tabs on his pussy,” Rollins quipped with a laugh. 

“Is that how it is, Lewis? Gonna get tagged yourself? That why you’re so frigid lately?” Rumlow snickered at his own clever questions, but Darcy saw red.  

She was a fucking Agent. Sure, her first assignment was pet-sitting a cat. And sure, she’d gotten kidnapped while performing those duties from a very secure apartment. And sure, she’d had to be rescued. And sure, she wouldn’t have been rescued at all if the damn cat hadn’t snuck out of the apartment at all, but what the absolute fuck.  

Rollins and Rumlow were stalking down the hallway in front of her, still laughing at their own jokes. She hated them. She hated Rumlow’s sleazy smile and wandering eyes and never-ending pickup lines. She hated how Rollins just followed him around, the worst kind of yes-man. Cocky and rude and so fucking sloppy. Even now, on a level five alert rescue op, Rumlow was on duty and couldn’t be bothered to dress to regulation, his comm dangling down his back like a — his comm — his unactivated open channel comm.  

Darcy blinked against her lingering headache and then sped up so she was barely a step behind Rumlow before tripping forward into his back, her clumsy fingers making easy work of his comm’s on button. Rumlow stumbled with her before pulling up to a stop and turning to snap at her, “Jesus, Lewis, walk much?” 

“Sorry, sorry.” She lept back. “I think I have a concussion.” 

“Well, that’s what happens when you hang around Avenger’s apartments on the weekends. Could have woken up with a real man.” Rumlow resettled his gun and turned back to keep following Rollins, except now the comm dangling down his back was blinking a bright, active green.  

“You said you saw what happened because Alpine got out. Did you find her?” Darcy couldn’t help but be worried about the little cat. She didn’t seem like one who would do well outside the apartment. 

“Pfft.” Rollins scoffed, “Found the cat first. Although, from what I hear, Barnes was more upset about you.” 

“It’s like I said,” Rumlow drawled as they reached a stairwell door. “Barnes likes to keep close tabs on all his pussy. That includes you now, right Lewis?” 

“From what I heard of the video from the apartment,” Rollins chimed in as they started to climb the stairs out of the basement, “our mastermind kidnapper knew who you were because he caught Barnes kissing you last week. Won’t go out with my guy here, but you’re willing to dirty yourself up with the most broken Avenger? You like ‘em damaged, Lewis?” 

“He’s not damaged!” It was the first of their comments to force a response from her, and she regretted it the moment she opened her mouth. Both because the stairs were proving more difficult than she’d expected, every step making her head pound, and because it set both men off spewing even more disgusting vitriol.  

By the time they were on the third flight, any victory she might have felt over all their commentary being said unwittingly over open comms was gone, replaced by a singular focus on putting one foot in front of the other. Her head was pounding; she couldn’t see straight; she was sucking down air and hanging off the handrail with a sweaty palm in an effort to stay upright.  

“And what do you think he can do for you with one good arm that I can’t?” 

“Brock never leaves a woman unsatisfied.” 

“Never do.” 

“You should really let me prove it to you, Lewis. Lewis?” 

Darcy had stopped two steps from the top of the stairs. Rumlow and Rollins were both standing on the landing staring at her, Rollins had one hand braced against a door that clearly led to the outside based on the light bleeding in around the cracks, but Darcy wasn’t sure she was going to make it another step.  

“Lewis?” Rumlow repeated her name, although this time, there was an edge of panic to it that implied she probably looked as bad as she felt.  

“I,” Darcy started, then swayed on her feet, caught herself, and rallied. “Would rather die than let you touch me.” 

Rumlow’s face scrunched up and then went red in rage, “You absolute bitch, I’m going to—” 

He was interrupted by the door to the stairwell being ripped open with so much force it sent Rollins pitching backward, and there was Phil Coulson. Like an angel of wrath, he stood in the open door, suit pressed, tie immaculate, looking more furious than Darcy had ever seen him. And she’d definitely seen him furious. She was on base the day Hawkeye accidentally tested an experimental arrowhead, and it took out the rear end of Coulson’s car. This topped that by about a million.  

“Agents.” Coulson was curt, his voice cold. “You have been broadcasting on open comms for the last ten minutes.” 

If she died now, it would all have been worth it to watch the way the color drained from Rumlow and Rollin’s faces. Both men immediately scrambled for their earpieces, and when Rumlow pulled his dangling comm over his shoulder, she watched him put it all together, his eyes snapping to hers.  

“You bitch!” Rumlow lunged, and Darcy thought she dodged, although Coulson told her later it was more of a flail that went nowhere. It didn’t matter, though, because while Coulson may not be an active duty agent, he was never going to be a slouch, and he had Rumlow on the ground so fast Darcy was still blinking in surprise, and it was all over.  

Everything moved much faster after that. Or maybe time stayed the same, and she lost consciousness for a while? She really wasn’t sure, to be honest. She knew Rumlow and Rollins were suddenly gone, and some lovely agents were leading her to an ambulance. Then she was in a hospital. Then Jane was there with the big packet of emergency medical information, harassing doctors, demanding specific colors of jello, and generally being a very good best friend.  

Coulson showed up a day later for a debrief where he explained the kidnapping was a series of bad luck. A low-level AIM operative who recognized Bucky while they were out, saw the opportunity created by his attachment to Darcy, used a previously unknown security flaw to gain access to the apartment, and kidnapped her. The part about Alpine being her unwitting savior was true. Alpine was fine; another agent was looking after her for now. Bucky would be back any day now.  

The situation with Rumlow and Rollins was complicated. Super secret spies can’t really be fired, and Darcy had to begrudgingly agree that while they were sexist pigs, they couldn’t really be put in front of a firing squad for it. She ultimately decided Coulson had been fair when he reassigned them to different bases, one in the arctic circle and one in Antarctica. Literally opposite sides of the globe.  

“Guess it turned out to be more than just pet-sitting?” Smug was not a good look on Phil Coulson. 

“I’m sorry, I’m the one with the concussion and the open-and-shut sexual harassment case against the US government, and you want me to admit you were right?” Darcy took a huge bite of her green jello. 

“I just want you to admit that all missions are important missions,” Coulson said calmly. 

“I will admit that I got more out of this mission than I expected,” Darcy said magnanimously; she was mostly thinking about the fact that as soon as Bucky was back, she still intended to climb him like a tree. “Speaking of, Rumlow mentioned something about—” 

Coulson cut her off, “Avengers do not technically operate inside the reporting structure of SHIELD and, as such, are not party to any personnel regulations we may have to follow as agents. Unrelated, I would prefer not to hear the details of your personal romances.” 

“Good looking out, C-man.” She spooned more jello into her mouth. 

“I’ve told you not to call me that.” He said, and he stood, smoothing down his jacket and gathering up his briefcase. “Additionally, you can’t sue the US government.” 

“Says who?” Darcy called to his retreating back. 

“Your employment contract, Agent Lewis. Always read the fine print.” 

“I want my phone replaced, Phil! This isn’t going to be like the iPod all over again!” She shouted after him. The door closed firmly in his wake, and Darcy shoved another spoonful of jello in her mouth. “Stupid fucking spy agencies taking away my agency.” 

Chapter Text

It had been six days since she was released from the hospital.  Five days since she managed to kick Jane out of her apartment for hovering.  Four days since she got her replacement phone straight from Phil Coulson’s hands. Three days since Bucky Barnes was confirmed to have returned to the city with the rest of the Avengers.  And still no contact.   

She’d texted him as soon as she’d gotten the new phone, but there’d been no reply.  She hadn’t worried about it at the time because he’d still been on a mission, and he’d said he might be out of touch. She knew what kinds of things the Avengers handled.  A little kidnapping wasn’t going to be enough to drag him back.  But now things were starting to verge on desperate teenage girl territory.  Four phone calls and six texts was her limit.  Right? 

It was 2 am on a Tuesday; she wasn’t due back to work until the following week.  She’d been staring at her phone off and on for hours, silently begging it to vibrate an alert. Anything to prove she hadn’t imagined it all.  She hadn’t imagined it, right? He’d been perfect.  They’d been perfect. Sure, it was one date, but it was one perfect date.  She pressed the button on the side of her phone again, and when the screen lit up to reveal no new messages, she tossed it down and threw herself back into her pillow. 

This was dumb.  

She was Darcy motherfucking Lewis. Agent of SHIELD.  She’d literally been kidnapped while watching this man’s cat.  She deserved better than to be ghosted like some common online app match. She deserved an explanation.  No. She demanded an explanation.  She was going to demand an explanation.  She was going to demand an explanation right now.  

The train ride to Cobble Hill was a lot less romantic when it was done alone at 2:30 in the morning.  Darcy huddled into her oversized hoodie and refused to make eye contact; her taser clutched in one hand. Better believe she wasn’t going to be caught unarmed ever again.  The walk from the station to Bucky’s building was quick; the street was quiet, and she wasn’t surprised to see the panel at the door had been replaced with something similar but much more high-tech. 

It still wasn’t hard to find the button for apartment B, and she took just a second to confirm this was really what she wanted to do with her life before she leaned into the buzzer with almost all her weight.  She’d been holding the button down so long she was starting to wonder if maybe he wasn’t home when the intercom crackled, and then Bucky’s tired voice came over the speaker. “I can’t buzz you up if you’re holding it down, doll.” 

She pulled her hand back like she’d been burned, and the door instantly buzzed to indicate it was unlocked. She tore it open and started for the stairs. “Kidnapped, beat up, have to deal with sexist pigs, don’t call, don’t text, and he has the audacity to call me doll. Fucking pet names.  I don’t need a fucking pet name. I’m a grown-ass woman. I’m a SHIELD agent.  I can handle my own goddamn business.” She muttered to herself up both flights of stairs before coming to an abrupt stop on the landing when she looked up to find Bucky standing in the open door to his apartment wearing loose sleep pants and a t-shirt, his hair mussed, eyes red, face pale, jaw clenched.  

“Yes, you can.” He said softly, and Darcy blinked in confusion. 

“What?” She asked. 

“Handle your own goddamn business.  You’re also definitely a grown-ass woman, an exceptional agent of SHIELD, and I shouldn’t have used the pet name. It just slipped out.” He rocked back on his heels, hands buried deep in his pockets as he spoke. 

“You heard all that?” Darcy’s eyes instantly started scanning the stairwell for bugs, and Bucky shrugged. 

“Super soldier.” 

“Right.” She said awkwardly and then paused. He looked terrible. Suddenly, she realized he might have been hurt.  Coulson had only confirmed he’d returned with the rest of the team, but everything else was classified. He wouldn’t have told Darcy if there’d been injuries or — “Were you injured?” 

“Ah,” Bucky rocked again and looked away, then back. “No, I wasn’t. Did you want to come in?” 

She realized they were still on the landing, and she swallowed, then nodded. She was here for answers, right? She probably wouldn’t get them outside the apartment. He turned to lead her inside, and she was unprepared for what being back would feel like. She wouldn’t call it a flashback, but she definitely had a moment of unease as the door swung shut at her back, and she found herself facing the room where she’d most recently stared down her mystery kidnapper. She took a deep breath and stepped deeper into the apartment.  

“You want some coffee?” Bucky was headed for the kitchen already. 

“Sure.” She said as she carefully edged around the couch and followed him to perch on one of the bar stools.  She watched him start scooping out coffee into the machine, the muscles in his back flexing under the thin cotton of his shirt.  She knew what those muscles felt like when she dug her nails into them.  She knew how soft his hair was twisted around her fingers.  She really thought they’d had something.  She didn’t understand why — “Why didn’t you call me when you got back?  I know you’ve been back for days.  I don’t have as much clearance as your cat, apparently, but this assignment gave me enough to know that. I thought we were…” she trailed off, not sure where she was going. 

Bucky stopped messing with the coffee machine and turned to face her, leaning against the counter, hands braced on the edge. “Wasn’t sure that it would be a good idea.” He said, and then he reached up to scrub his flesh hand down his face.  

“Why wouldn’t it be a good idea?” Her voice sounded small even to her own ears, and she didn’t miss the way he twitched like he wanted to reach for her before his hand clenched and he settled back against the counter. “I thought we had something really good going, so I just don’t understand why, after everything, you’d disappear on me,” she said, and Bucky pressed his lips into a thin line, then turned back to the coffee maker. “I deserve an explanation.” She added, and she was proud of how level her voice came out.  

The coffee maker beeped once, and his shoulders went tense and then dropped, but he didn’t turn around to face her when he finally spoke. “Didn’t want you thinking, what was it they said, that the most damaged Avenger who got you kidnapped and beat up was just trying to keep close tabs on his pussy.” He did turn around at that, and Darcy hated the rueful smirk on his face—a mockery of his usual blinding smile in its self-depreciation.  

“So you listened to the recording.” She said flatly. 

“Oh, everyone’s listened to the recording.” He said dryly. “I give it a week before it’s leaked to the press, although Steve seems to think the agents of SHIELD are too noble for that. I think it’s more likely they’re too scared of me and Natalia.” He shrugged. 

Darcy was definitely in camp, scared on this one. Steve was being naive. She hadn’t realized there were recordings of it just floating around. “I’m sorry it hurt you. That wasn’t my intention when I turned on his comm unit.”  She said, and Bucky’s head whipped up. 

“What do you mean when you turned on his comm?” Bucky asked, and he took two steps across the kitchen so they were only separated by the island countertop. 

“You didn’t hear the whole thing?” 

“I did.” Bucky was staring at her intently now. 

Darcy’s mind raced, trying to remember what had been said, but so much of it was a blur of just trying to stay upright. She shook her head.  “I went to the market without you because I had a cute dress already picked out I wanted to wear.” He nodded and made a low noise for her to continue, “I came over here after because I found fresh catnip for Alpine, and when I got inside, there was a man already here with a gun. I wasn’t armed; that was my fault. He made me sit on the couch and wanted me to put on handcuffs. I took too long to follow instructions, so he hit me with the gun —” 

“He hit you?” Bucky was around the counter and pushing the oversized hood of her sweatshirt back off her head so fast it was unreal. His eyes went dangerously cold when they landed on the seven stitches, still marring her hairline on the right side. 

“Did you not get like any kind of report?” Darcy felt like she had whiplash from all the knowledge gaps here. 

Bucky’s hands dropped away from her face, and his cheeks went red. “Some of the details were redacted by the time I saw it. I got a hold of the recording through unofficial channels, and Steve was pissed enough about that.”  

“I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t they give you the—” 

“Then what happened?” He interrupted, but his voice was soft. 

“Uhh, I woke up chained to some pipes in a basement cellar. I was just working up the courage to break my thumb to get out of the cuffs when Rumlow and Rollins showed up with the recovery team.” She was interrupted again by the coffee maker going off.  

“Do you still want a coffee?” He asked. 

“Milk and sugar?” 

“Yep,” He started pulling things out of cupboards and lining them up for her to make a cup, and she took the opportunity to ask a question that had been nagging at her. 

“Could we go somewhere else?” 

He froze, “Somewhere else?” 

“Not outside,” she clarified quickly, “just I don’t like —” she trailed off, her eyes drifting to the couch and then back to him. She watched the realization land and hated the way it made his shoulders go stiff, then fall in defeat.  

“Anywhere.” He said it so earnestly. 

“Your bed.” It popped out before she could stop it, and while there was no way anything remotely sexual was about to happen, Darcy wouldn’t deny that the idea of getting to curl up on his chest and be held was very appealing. She was starting to piece some things together, and while she wasn’t sure yet, she had a feeling she hadn’t exactly been ghosted so much as involuntarily released back to the wild for her own good, a la White Fang. Still, absolute bullshit, but at least it was noble bullshit and in line with Bucky’s character.  

“You want to go to my bed?” He was looking back and forth between the bedroom and her as though an extra room would appear in the apartment. 

“It is the only other room, right?” 

“There’s an office.” He said, and she raised an incredulous brow. 

“The one with one chair?” She asked. 

 “Point taken.” He said. “To the bed then.” 

Alpine was in the bedroom, curled up in a furry white donut on the end of the bed. She blinked up at Darcy in mild interest before immediately going back to sleep. “So she was really worried about me then?” Darcy quipped as she set her coffee on one of the nightstands and crawled on top of the covers to settle against the pillows.   

“It’s a cat thing?” Bucky said, but even he sounded skeptical as he settled on the other side, his shoulder just touching hers. This was better than Darcy could have imagined. It was soft and warm, the lighting was dim, and everything smelled like him. She felt her shoulders droop for what felt like the first time in days. “You were being rescued by Rumlow and Rollins,” Bucky said their names like he was listing infectious diseases. 

“Let’s not get carried away. Rumlow and Rollins showed up and took off the cuffs. They didn’t check me for injuries or offer me any actual help. I was seeing double, had a severe concussion, could barely walk, and they just uncuffed me and told me to follow them, then started talking trash about you and me. Which is when I noticed Rumlow had his stupid comm hanging down his back the way he always does.” 

Bucky nodded. “Steve’s written him up before.” 

“Well, he didn’t learn because it was like that again, and all it took was stumbling into him to turn it on so everyone could hear them talking shit. I was about to pass out on the stairs when Coulson finally showed up and revealed all —” 

“That’s Rumlow’s last shout at the end?” Bucky asked, then he let out a low whistle. “There are first-year agents who wouldn’t have managed half that under those circumstances. I hope you know that.” 

“I know, right!” Darcy lunged up so she was kneeling on the bed facing him, “I told Coulson I deserve a medal for bravery, but he said that’s not how this works, and I’m lucky I got a new phone.” Bucky ducked his head at that, and Darcy narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “SHIELD doesn’t replace agent personal property, but Coulson even upgraded — you bought me a new —” She snatched up the closest pillow and smacked it against his chest. 

“Mercy, mercy! Darce.” He laughed as he wrestled the pillow from her grip, tugging until she was over-balanced and landed sprawled out half over his chest.  Rather than pull away, Darcy shifted until she was curled up, her cheek pillowed on his pec, one arm slung low across his stomach.  

“Is this okay?” She asked, holding her breath for his answer.  

There was a pause, and then an arm draped heavily around her waist to anchor her to his side. “Yes.” He said softly. “I’m sorry I didn’t call Darcy. When I got the alert about what happened, it was all already over. I’d been in a comms blackout for the mission. All that nonsense Rumlow and Rollins spouted about me being more upset about you or Alpine; it was all bullshit. I didn’t even know anything was wrong until it was all over.” His fingers were twisting in the ends of her hair, and Darcy wanted to melt into the feeling of every gentle tug on her scalp.   

“Oh,” She said because she wasn’t sure what else to add.   

“Not oh,” Bucky said, and the hand went from teasing at her hair to cupping the back of her head. Blunt fingertips rubbed against her scalp in comforting circles that made her feel boneless.  “It was terrifying. To realize I was halfway around the world and something terrible had happened here to — I wasn’t here to help you, and it was all my fault in the first place. My reaction wasn’t pretty. Then to come home to that recording floating around and hear all those terrible things. All those things I think about myself being said by others.” 

Darcy was floating in a pool of contentment, but that last sentence broke the spell. “That’s bullshit.” She said, and then she pushed herself off his chest. Ignoring the sting as the movement tugged his fingers from her hair.  She took a risk, a big one, and swung a leg over his waist, settling her weight on his lap, and she knew she’d done right from the way his eyes went wide, and his hands hovered anxiously at her hips as though unsure of where they could touch.  

“All that stuff they said was bullshit.” She grabbed his hands and placed them firmly on her hips, guiding his fingers to flex into her curves through her sweatshirt and yoga pants. “Rumlow and Rollins are sexist assholes who don’t know anything, and they were talking shit because Rumlow was jealous. He’d been hitting on me for months, and I’d been turning him down flat for months.  He was pissed that you got what he wanted. That you can still have what he wanted.”  She let the blatant invitation hang between them for a moment and watched Bucky’s eyes go wide again and then close in resignation. 

“I’m no good for you, Darcy.” He said softly. 

“Well, that’s really none of your fucking business.” She snapped.  

“Kissing me literally got you kidnaped a week ago.” He pointed out. 

“You agreed that I can handle my own goddamn business because I’m a grown-ass woman literally less than an hour ago.” She replied.  

“I did say that.” He acknowledged, and Darcy smiled, shark-like. “You’re a little more dangerous than people realize, aren’t you?” he asked. 

“They made me an agent.” She said. “Thor told Coulson it was a bad idea, but they did it anyway, so honestly, anything that happens from this point forward is really 100% on SHIELD, don’t you think?” 

He laughed at that, a full laugh, with his head thrown back and his dimples on full display, and Darcy wanted to press a kiss to the exposed line of his throat so bad she swore her mouth was watering.  But when the laughter died out and he met her eyes, his own face went serious, “I don’t know if I know how to care about someone and also not worry about them like crazy when I have to go away.” He admitted.  

“Well, I can promise you I won’t be going anywhere unarmed anymore,” Darcy said, and she reached into the hidden pouch of her hoodie to pull out her taser, only to have Bucky chuckle and carefully take it from her hand.  

“Has that been there the whole time? What else are you hiding in there?” He asked, his tone teasing as he reached into the pouch, and she felt his fingers uncovering the slit that led to the inside hidden pocket almost instantly. “Clever.” He said with a smirk.  

“You knew!” She accused, poking at his chest and lunging for the taser, which he moved to keep just out of reach.  

“Of course, I knew, world-famous assassin, remember.” He was still teasing, but he sobered a bit and said, “So you’ll be armed.” 

“And you’ll promise not to ghost me again.” She said. 

“Ghost you?”  

“Oh, my god. Until right now, I had completely forgotten that you’re actually like 100 years old.” Darcy let out a giggle and reached up to cup his cheeks, leaning forward to press their foreheads together as he groaned. 

“I took you to a soda shop for an eggcreme on our first date, and this is what reminded you I’m technically old enough to be your grandfather?” He was reaching blindly for the nightstand to drop the taser, and then his hands were back on her hips, pulling her close, and it would take nothing at this point to be kissing him.   

“You have to promise,” she said softly. “It really did hurt when I didn’t hear from you.” She took a deep breath and decided if she was going to do this, she was going to do it all the way. “I like you a lot, Bucky Barnes. If we do this, I don’t want to do it halfway.”  

His smile was brilliant. “I really like you too, Darcy Lewis. I am sorry for not calling, and I promise it will never happen again. I would like to do this, and not halfway.” 

“Kiss me.” 

“Yes.”  

- 

“Time to get up, Darce!”  

Darcy groaned and rolled over, pressing her face more firmly into Bucky’s pillow. She would never get tired of the way the soft cotton retained the smell of his shampoo and aftershave long after he’d left the bed. Over months of trial and error, she figured out that the scent would last two weeks when he was gone on a mission. Longer if she kept Alpine from sleeping on it by hiding it in one of the dresser drawers during the day. She pressed her nose into the warm cloth and inhaled deeply, eyes squeezed shut. 

“On the verge of stalker behavior there, doll.” Bucky’s voice sounded from the other side of the room, and Darcy just knew if she cracked her eyes open, he’d be leaning in the frame, probably still shirtless from his post-run shower, one of the kitchen towels thrown over his shoulder.  

“You’re the worst boyfriend.” She mumbled around a mouthful of cotton. 

“I made you an omelet.” He said, and she felt the bed dip under his weight. “And there’s coffee and juice.” He punctuated each word with another move up the bed until she could feel him hovering over her.  

“I’m sleeping.” She said, squeezing her eyes even more tightly closed. 

Warm metal fingers brushed her hair to the side; then his weight was lightly pinning her hips to the bed, and Darcy felt him press a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the back of her neck. “You’re not sleeping.” He said, trailing kisses down to her shoulder, pulling the stretched collar of her sleep shirt aside as he went. “I’ve already run ten miles with Steve this morning.” 

Darcy grinned into the sheets and then bucked her hips so he’d lift up and let her roll over, ending up on her back bracketed in the soft blankets by his warmth. She blinked up at him and was greeted by his beautiful grin, his eyes crinkled, and dimples on full display. “Did Steve wear his short shorts?” 

Bucky snickered, and Darcy reached up to card her fingers through his still-damp hair. “Why? Were you hoping for more photos? Didn’t get enough on TMZ last week?” He was teasing, and Darcy rolled her eyes and tugged on his hair in an effort to increase the contact between them. He obliged, and she buried her face in his neck.  

“Mmhmm. Love photos of Steve, not enough supersoldier in my life.” She mumbled it into his neck, but she knew he heard her by the way his shoulder shook in silent laughter. “What kind of omelet?” She asked.

“Ham and cheese.” He said, and he was already pushing himself up, ignoring Darcy’s groan of protest as he snuck an arm under her lower back. Then, in an impressive display of strength, she was being lifted from the bed, blankets and all. Her shriek dissolved into giggles as Bucky threw her over his shoulder and carried her into the living room, where he deposited her on the couch. “Breakfast, then you shower; we’re meeting everyone at 2.” 

“Counter offer,” She said as he handed her a plate with a messy-looking omelet on it, “breakfast, back to bed with you for several hours,” she gave him a wink, “We both shower, we arrive fashionably late to meet everyone.” She scooped up a big bite of the omelet and watched him for a reaction as she chewed.  

“There’s my girl,” Bucky’s voice took on the soft tone it only got when he was talking to Alpine as the fluffy white cat appeared from the hallway, and Darcy smiled as he ducked down to scoop up the cat, cradling her to his chest. “Been exploring all your new territory, pretty girl? All those extra rooms now.” He put her down on a stack of still-packed moving boxes in the corner. 

“You think she’s adjusting okay?” Darcy asked around another bite of omelet.  

Moving in together after only six months was a big step. But after the kidnapping, Darcy had struggled with bad associations in the living room of Bucky’s old apartment. They’d made a lot of new good memories in the bedroom, but that wasn’t enough to completely erase her unease with the place overall. It meant they’d spent more and more time in her tiny studio. When it got to the point that even Alpine was spending the majority of her time at Darcy’s, Bucky finally put his foot down and decided he was just going to get a new place.  

How Bucky looking for a new apartment morphed into them moving in together, Darcy still wasn’t 100% sure. If pressed, she would say it was probably a combination of his old-school charm, her desire to not have a couch within eye line of her bed, and her inability to resist him when he had his mouth up against her throat. It didn’t hurt that things between them were going really, really well. Like she’d never been this happy, kept having to bite her lip to hold back the L-word happy. It was getting harder and harder not to say it.  

“Darce?”  

“What?” She was yanked back to the moment to find Bucky watching her closely, one of his hands still absently rubbing at Alpine’s head. 

“So you want to be late to this lunch thing with the team?” He had her very favorite smirk on his face. 

“Yes.”  

“Because you want to spend several more hours in bed with me?”  

“Yes.”  

“Was the omelet good?” 

“Yes.” 

“You know I love you, right?

“Yes. Wait — What? Bucky.” His name left her on a whine; then, she practically launched herself off the couch and across the room into his waiting arms. “I love you. I love you. I love you.” A kiss to his face punctuated every declaration until she captured his smiling lips.  

He kissed her back without hesitation, holding her tight against his chest in their new living room, where they were going to build a life together. 

Best first mission ever.