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“Hey.”
Darcy looks up from her phone and plate of cafeteria enchiladas, and her pulse jumps. “Hi.”
Bucky Barnes offers her an easy smile and leans against her table, looking like sex on legs in his absolutely non-regulation dark jeans and three layers of henleys. “You hear about Mitchell’s challenge?”
“Yep,” she says, setting down her fork. Mitchell is SWORD Tactical Division and thinks he’s hot shit. He is one of the best shots in the outfit, but, “He’s lucky STRIKE Team Delta is on an op.”
“No shit. Mitchell knows what he’s doing, trying to beat Barton’s record when Barton ain’t around.” Bucky’s smile slides to one side, lifting at the corner. Darcy drags her eyes away from his mouth.
She glances around the sparsely populated, mid-afternoon cafeteria to see if anyone is taking note of the Bucky Barnes talking to a low-level nobody from the labs. She catches a curious glance or two, but no one is close enough to overhear them. Ten yards away, Sam Wilson and Steve Rogers are seated at their own table, chewing slowly and not even pretending to mind their business. There’s a third tray at their table, piled with a super-soldier’s-worth of lunch.
Darcy returns her eyes to Barnes, indulging herself with a long look from his heavy boots- up the denim tight over his thighs- past his flesh and metal hands tucked into his pockets by the thumbs- up along the way even three henleys cling to his torso and pecs- over his strong neck- the solid smirk curling his lips- the shaggy long hair pulled away from his face. His gaze is dark and alert on her, returning the perusal, catching her biting her lip.
Trying to regain some of the composure she’d just lost, she blurts, “So?”
He blinks. “So-” Barnes folds down into the chair next to her, and she catches a whiff of machine oil and a spicy deodorant or shampoo. “-you wanna team up and show Mitchell how it’s done?”
She sets her phone on the table with a click and tries to keep the glare off her brow, “I’m a lab rat , Barnes, I don’t know how to shoot.”
“Sure, sure, you’re just Foster’s cute intern who could have completed her own degree a decade ago, and not any kind of trained bodyguard with a co-ed cover.”
Darcy does not glance around this time or try to keep the glare off her face. Barnes is keeping his voice down, and she knows when not to cause an undue scene. She leans in with a smile (just for the appearance of intimacy, and not so she could watch his throat work as he swallows) and growls, “That’s right.”
He leans in as well, eyes hooded, “If that’s the case, what would you call last month at the range?”
She recalls the vivid retort of the handgun in her expert grip, the late-night silence of the long shooting gallery, calmly putting a rosette of holes into target after target. Then, being interrupted, some quick and dirty banter, and Barnes’ grip on her hips as they shook the stall. Darcy crosses her legs and tries to school her expression.
Pitching her voice so only he’ll hear, and leaning in enough for her scoop top to distract Barnes a little, she breathes, “I’d call it two orgasms and an hour of deleted footage.”
Barnes shifts, knees spreading under the table.
“How about a repeat performance?” His smirk is trying to be cocky, but her distracting skills work especially well on him. “Show Mitchell who’s boss."
Darcy feels the flush rise as she narrows her eyes. Privately maintaining her skills to prove to herself that she still has them is one thing. Outing herself as a skilled operative- even though S.H.I.E.L.D had rooted out Hydra during her career- is further than she is willing to go, even to show up Mitchell. He’s enough of an asshole to make her consider the offer for a moment.
“How about a different repeat performance,” she counters, licking her lips: “I keep my cover and I show you who’s boss.”
She has him: Bucky spreads his muscled thighs, hand dropping to tuck a thumb into his belt loop and cover his very unprofessional interest.
He swallows. “I could be convinced.”
“Actually,” Darcy purrs as she collects her lunch tray and stands to leave, “ I’m the one that needs to be convinced.”