Chapter Text
The Day Before
Friday 5:36 PM
“Hey, Steve,” Bucky called casually from the couch, where he’d been idly scrolling through Netflix for the past half hour.
“Yeah?” Steve called back from the kitchen. He had chased Bucky out of it, that snacking fiend, half an hour ago.
“Darcy’s coming by in twenty.”
Steve paused with his hand stretched out for the oven mitt.
The girl he'd wanted to avoid for the past few weeks was coming over.
Steve cleared his throat and put on the oven mitt, “you think she wants dinner?”
“Nah, she’s eating before she comes over to watch some Netflix with me,” Bucky turned around and looked at Steve through the little window between the kitchen and living room, “you’re welcome to join us.”
“No, that’s alright.” Steve pulled the roast out of the oven and set it on the counter next to the sauce, potatoes and broccoli. “Dinner’s done, get it while it’s hot.”
Bucky grabbed the back of the couch and hoisted his body gracefully over it. ‘Parkour’, Darcy called it once when she'd seen them both do it, ‘parkour but without the running because you guys are so strong you don’t even need a momentum to jump great hurdles, apparently.’
Darcy was coming here.
Steve swallowed most of his dinner without even tasting it, too distracted by the funny feeling in his stomach. His burnt tongue would heal before he finished eating anyway.
“You in a hurry there?” Bucky asked, watching him inhale his food in amusement.
Steve nodded, “Sam” he said by a way of explanation.
Bucky narrowed his eyes at him, but shrugged it off when Steve took a second helping of potatoes.
Steve had just managed to clean his plate when the doorbell rang, Bucky got up to buzz Darcy in and Steve took a moment to gather himself, quickly putting his dishes in the dishwasher and fleeing to his room.
He inhaled deeply and looked himself in the mirror above his dresser.
Get a grip Steve, it’s just a stupid crush, you’ll get over it.
Letting his breath out, he picked up his cell from it's charging station on the nightstand, and walked into the living room.
“Hey, Steve!” Darcy beamed at him, in the process of taking her coat off.
“Darcy, great to see you. Sorry I can’t stay.” He picked up his shoes and sat on the bench to tie them.
“No worries, it was last minute, Buck and I are just going to catch up on some of the shows I already caught you up on years ago.” She kicked off her shoes and he grabbed the closest jacket. Darcy was right in front of him, almost as if she expected him to say something and she was blocking the door until he did. He stood frozen for a heartbeat before she blinked at him and took mercy on him.
“Oh here,” Darcy spun away and grabbed his wallet and keys from the little table next to her hip and handed them to him. She was great at that, thwarting awkward moments. SHe said it was because she usually made them awkward to begin with, he thought it was just because she was kind and good at reading people and putting them at ease.
He took the keys and wallet and she threw her arms around his middle for a quick hug, let go and got out of his way, “see you around, Steve!”
Steve blinked at her, half pleased that she’d hugged him and half mad that he'd let her.
“You too, thanks,” he held up his wallet and key awkwardly and left the apartment, slamming the door shut just a little bit harder than he meant to.
“Get a grip,” he muttered to himself as he walked down the stairs. At least he would get to work out this tension on the boxing bag with Sam in an hour... when they were actually supposed to meet.
11:45 PM
He and Sam trained until Sam called it. After a quick shower they went out for their usual carb-load. There was a good greasy spoon around the corner from the gym that served the best burgers and stayed open until midnight, so getting a burger and fries (with a side of burger and fries for Steve) after a good workout had become a tradition.
After the late night meal Steve’d been reluctant to go home. Knowing Darcy and her marathons, there was a good chance she’d still be there. Watching shows with her usually meant listening to her giving excessive commentary through a whole season of whatever they were watching, staying till past midnight.
So he’d texted Nat, taking her up on the offer to meet while she was in town, and agreed to meet in a bar a few blocks away.
“Any reason why you are suddenly interested in meeting up for drinks?” Natasha asked as she sat down in the booth opposite him.
“Any reason why you are suddenly interested in telling us that you’re in town?” Steve countered and slid her beer across the table to her.
Natasha quirked her eyebrow but remained otherwise passive. They sat in silence for a few minutes before she gave, realising he would not answer her question first.
“I am making a lifestyle change,” she admitted, taking a sip of her beer, “I have made a lot of new covers, and while I was lying and on the move, I realised that I would like to have a home base.”
“You moving into the tower?” Steve asked, a little surprised, “or are you going to move into Clint’s place?”
“I never said I would have a home base in New York City.”
Steve rolled his eyes at her, she smiled.
“No. I am looking for something a little more… not near Stark.”
“Hear, hear,” Steve raised his beer to her and took another swig.
“I’m looking for a place while I’m here. Would you mind keeping an eye out for me?”
“Anything you’re looking for in particular?”
“I have no budget, I just want somewhere simple, maybe in Brooklyn, I could also do Queens,” Steve grimaced at that, making her smile, “I just want a room with a balcony, or a fire escape, and a nice homey feel to it.”
“I hate to break it to you, but that warm homey feeling is something you have to make on your own. Usually by living there.”
It was Nat’s turn to roll her eyes. “Whatever, Rogers.”
Steve laughed, taking another sip.
“So," Natasha said in a tone that sounded forcefully casual, even for her "who or what is at your apartment that makes you want to avoid it?”
Steve almost choked on his beer.
Day 1
Saturday 1:03 AM
Steve opened the door to his apartment and welcomed the sight of a dark living room at the end of the hallway. Quickly kicking off his shoes, hanging up his jacket and throwing his keys and wallet on the table by the door, he padded through the dark hallway to the bathroom.
He could hear the sound of flushing and hands being washed so he waited for Bucky to be done. He didn’t mind sharing a one bathroom apartment with Bucky. He’d worked damned hard to find his best friend again, and then worked relentlessly to get him out of his cell at the tower. Darcy had helped a lot. Throwing legal documents and quick wit at the anyone who deemed Bucky too dangerous to live a life without supervision. After months of work; Bucky had finally been released to Steve’s custody, and Steve had immediately made his art- and workout-room into a bedroom for him, Darcy had helped him there too. She’d braved IKEA with him, and he was forever grateful for it. That day would have been a new day of fresh hell, if Darcy hadn’t messed around in all those small rooms, and joked with the Swedish names on the furniture.
The bathroom door clicked open and Steve shook himself out of his musings, looking at the doorway, then freezing.
“Darcy?”
She was clad in a t-shirt that was too big for her and looked suspiciously like one of his own. Leaving her legs bare. He swallowed against the sudden dryness in his mouth and forced himself to look up at and away from her thighs. He could see that the makeup she had worn when she hugged him a few hours ago was off as she looked up and smiled softly at him.
“Hey, you’re home.”
“Yeah,” he said, suddenly feeling awkward, trying not to think about why she was still here and only wearing that.
“Well, goodnight. Sleep tight,” she yawned before padding down the hall and into Bucky’s room, closing the door firmly behind her.
Steve stood in the hallway, staring after her.
His insides felt like lead, his chest felt tight and his nose tickled.
He shook himself out of his stance and locked himself into the bathroom, turning the tap on and getting out his toothbrush. Looking his reflection in the eyes in the mirror like he had done seven hours earlier, he repeated his mantra:
“It’s just a crush,” he whispered, low enough so Bucky wouldn't hear him over the running water. "Snap out of it, Rogers, it's just a silly crush."
But it’s not though.
Steve frowns at the thought, because he realised it was right. This wasn’t just a crush.
Darcy Lewis came into his life years ago when she stormed into the Stark Tower, looking for Thor and demanded he explain why he never called Jane. Three years, six months and approximately nine hours ago, Darcy Lewis had sat herself down on the couch next to him and asked him what he was doing. Three years, six months and approximately eight hours ago, Darcy Lewis had gone through the huge Shield folder of things to catch up on, and started plotting how to get him caught up with pop culture as well as history.
Three years, six months and five hours ago, Steve Rogers had fallen for Darcy Lewis.
Now, years later, was the exact moment he realised just how head over heels he was. And it was the exact moment she was crawling into bed with his best friend.
It's not just a crush, you're in love with her. He looked away from his own reflection. I'm in love with Darcy.
Finally admitting his feelings to himself. After years, and Steve knew he could never act on it. Even though he was in love with Darcy, he’d loved Bucky most of his life, and wanted him to finally be happy. So if they made each other happy, then why, oh why, should he ruin it for them just because he was too slow and too scared to act sooner?
Steve brushed his teeth and washed his face, before making his way down the hall to his own bedroom, resolutely not looking at Bucky’s door on the way there.
Besides, it’s not like you weren’t trying to get over her. Here’s your incentive. Nothing can ever happen between you, this is your closure.
And though he should have felt relief, all he could feel while he laid awake in bed, struggling both to eavesdrop and to block out all sounds at the same time, completely at war with himself, was the same ache he’d felt when he woke up in this new century.