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“Darcy!”
She looks up from her phone finally, after ignoring Clint the first two times. His first attempt at grabbing her attention was by throwing a literal paper plane at her from the vents. She has no idea where he got the paper. She doesn’t know how much stuff the archer has up there. She just knows that it’s easier to find him by banging on the vent above the stove in the communal kitchen with a broom than calling his cell.
His second attempt was a whistle. She knows he does that to his kids too, but Darcy’s not his kid, no matter how close they are.
When he uses his words is when she looks up, an expectant look on her face.
“Can you get vodka?”
She stares at him.
“Please?” he adds.
She blinks. “You promise Nat you’d buy it and forgot?”
He nods.
“Again?” she adds, and he nods once more.
She gives a sigh, rolling her eyes. This is the third time he’s done this.
“I’m not doing this again, Katniss.”
He tries to look annoyed but smirks. Darcy stares him down a few more seconds before she rolls her eyes again, getting up from her bar stool.
“Thank you, Darcy, honey!” Clint calls after her as she walks out.
She nearly runs into Bucky and his hand goes to steady her when she jolts. This happens every so often and Darcy blushes every time. She glances away, muttering her apologies. What surprises her is Bucky following her out the kitchen.
“You gettin’ somethin' for Barton?” he asks, and Darcy glances at him walking beside her.
He’s in his red Henley, his hair covering most of his face. If Darcy were to guess, he’s just worked out and had a shower. He smells of ocean breeze body wash.
“Vodka,” she replies. “For Clint, so it’s technically for Nat. Asshole forgetting to get it for her again.”
“Why doesn’t Nat buy her own vodka?” Bucky asks, chuckling.
“He owes her for Belgium.”
“Still?” Bucky asks, and Darcy shrugs.
No-one knows what happened in Belgium but it was apparently serious enough for Clint to owe Natasha alcohol for the last few months.
“So does that mean everyone’s gettin’ wasted tonight?” Bucky mutters.
“You could try to socialize,” Darcy says.
She’s walking toward the elevator and he follows her out.
“I socialize plenty,” he retorts.
“I mean outside of training, missions…” Darcy presses the button and glances up at him, moving her finger back and forth to indicate the small space between them. “This... doesn’t count.”
Bucky presses his lips together, frowning.
The elevator dings and Darcy wanders in, Bucky joining her. He seems to be pondering something.
“Penny for your thoughts, Sarge?”
“You don’t count?” he says, and Darcy’s eyebrows hike.
“Uh. No,” she says, pressing the button for the lobby. “Talking to me once a day on accident doesn’t count as a social life.”
Bucky frowns again. “It’s not on accident.”
Darcy feels her stomach flutter at the thought of him seeking her out, but he can’t be serious. She snorts.
“Bullshit.”
She leaves him in the lobby, walking out into Manhattan to get that stupid vodka.
-
She thinks it’s going to be a typical Friday night. People will drink. They’ll get pizza. Someone might put on a movie or they’ll play some games.
At some point Thor will probably arm-wrestle Steve. Jane will get all giggly on chardonnay. Darcy’s been through this kind of night many, many times by now.
She always thinks of Bucky at least once during those Fridays. She thinks of him isolating himself in his apartment, probably watching a movie from that list she compiled him the same day they met. She’s been over to his place a few times to be his company, but he hasn’t shown any sign of interest beyond their casual friendship.
She needs this crush to go away at some point. It’s made her uncomfortable, especially when he bumps into her like he does in the kitchen. He makes her all flustered, and he’s the only one who does that to her. She’s touchy-feely with everyone in the Tower except him.
So when he shows up over an hour into the Friday night hangout, Darcy’s heart begins to hammer, her eyes widening. He slips into the sit next to her on the couch and she tries to not think about their arms touching.
Steve keeps smiling at Bucky like he’s so pleased to see him but Bucky’s quiet as always, hesitant to speak. Thor comes over and slaps his shoulder hard.
“Barnes, you deserve a drink!”
Darcy smirks with her beer at her lips, sipping as Bucky is handed a pint of frothy ale almost as big as his head.
“What’s…?”
“Asgardian ale,” Darcy says, as Bucky looks at it, narrowing his eyes.
“I’m afraid to ask if –”
“It’ll get you drunk,” she says, and Thor winks at them both before going back to Jane who’s arguing with Tony.
Bucky doesn’t seem convinced. Darcy leans closer to him, trying her best to ignore her own nerves and just go along with it.
“Does Steve always get that giggly when he drinks?” she whispers, and Bucky glances at her mouth before his eyes meet hers once more.
“Steve got drunk on this?”
Darcy nods.
Bucky finally puts it to his lips and takes a sip. He runs his tongue over his lips, looking pleasantly surprised. He offers it to Darcy, and she shakes her head.
“No way, Sarge. I’ll stick to my weak beer,” she murmurs.
She’s pretty sure she’d be legless if she had more than a couple mouthfuls. She’s seen Jane take a sip and then immediately fall asleep. She’s not risking that just to be closer to Bucky.
As the night progresses, Darcy chats to the people that come by the couch. Clint thanks Darcy for the vodka she brought, Steve clutches his belly when she makes him laugh, Scott shows her a new photo of Cassie and Jane ends up winning Twister.
Darcy only leaves Bucky’s side to go to the bathroom, and then she comes back with chips and salsa.
“Yes, Darcy!” Thor yells, and apparently he’s feeling a little merry from his own drink, devouring a large handful of chips.
She glances at the couch to see Bucky’s no longer sitting. She sees Steve and Bucky pushing on each other, Bucky’s shoulder pressed into his best friend’s chest.
Darcy catches Scott’s eye.
“Are they…?”
“Wrestling?” Scott says. “Yeah.”
Was Bucky drunk? Darcy stares at the two serum fellas scrambling at each other and wonders if she should record it to leak the embarrassing footage on Twitter.
Scott hands her a beer wordlessly and Darcy thanks him, taking a sip. She glances at Scott again.
“Hey, you hungry?”
“No, I’m Scott,” he replies, smiling. She shakes her head at his dad joke, but she can’t help smiling.
They watch Steve finally tap out and Bucky cards his fingers through his hair, making Darcy’s stomach do those flips again. He’s so pretty.
Steve smacks his shoulder a couple times and Bucky shoves him the final time, a flash of a smile on his face.
Darcy glances away, pretending she wasn’t close to drooling. She puts down her beer, switching to water. She decides to go hassle Jane and Thor for a while.
“He is short, is he not?” Thor says at one point, nodding at Scott.
Darcy snorts, but tries to remedy the situation.
“I mean, no shorter than Tony.”
“Tony’s not very tall, Darce,” Jane says. “I’m the shortest so I can say that.”
“I’ve been smaller before,” Scott says, still looking a little hurt. “I can get bigger, too.”
“Permanently, though?” Jane says, which makes Scott narrow his eyes but Darcy knows he doesn’t have a mean bone in his entire body.
“She still needs a booster seat, bud,” Darcy whispers to him, winking. “Wouldn’t stress about it.”
Jane slaps her arm for that.
There’s suddenly a loud smash and Darcy’s eyes dart to the bar where Bucky’s standing, a broken glass in his left hand.
“Taxi!” someone calls, signifying it’s time for Bucky to stop drinking and go home.
Bucky would usually be mortified with so many people staring, but he looks like he can barely stay upright. Darcy doesn’t hesitate, leaving her friends to walk over to him.
Steve stops her from getting too close, pointing at the glass on the tiles.
“Careful, Darce.”
She’s barefoot and she nods, grabbing Bucky by his shirt and looking up at him.
“How much did you drink, Sarge?” she asks, and Bucky blinks at her blearily.
“Three.”
Three pints? Darcy glances at Steve.
“I’ll put him to bed,” she says.
Steve bites his lip. “You sure?”
“Yeah, he’ll be fine,” she replies.
She’s brave enough to sling his arm over her shoulder and pulls him away from the bar, walking him out of the common room to the hallway. They reach the elevator and she presses the button for it.
“Darcy,” he murmurs, and she looks up at him, into his eyes.
He seems to have just realized who she was.
“Yeah, bud?”
“You,” he says, as if the word means so much more.
There’s a pause and she blinks.
“Yeah, me. You good?”
“I feel… super,” he replies.
His features seem softer, his cheeks pink. He’s very, very drunk.
“Too much to drink,” she murmurs, and he nods.
The elevator arrives and they shuffle inside. Darcy presses the button for his floor and the doors shut. As they ascend Bucky keeps looking at her, at her mouth.
“Stop it,” he slurs, and Darcy feels her face flush, wondering what he means.
She wasn’t stepping on his foot or anything.
“Stop bein’ so fuckin’ cute,” he murmurs.
He makes a sound low in his throat and he moves toward her, slipping her arm off and grabbing her in both his hands by the waist.
Darcy’s heart is in overdrive. Apparently Bucky is a cuddly drunk. He gathers her in his arms and lifts her. He’s so warm but she can’t relax. He’s not in his right mind.
“Bucky, hey…”
“Darcy,” he whispers.
She puts both hands on either side of his face, looking him in the eye.
“Darce, I wanna feel like this forever.”
“When was the last time you got drunk?” Darcy murmurs.
“19…45,” he replies. “It’s been a while.”
“I bet,” she replies.
He nuzzles one of her hands and the elevator stops. The doors open and Darcy tugs him along, trying to determine if he’s about to nosedive into the carpet of the hallway.
She grabs his flesh hand, pressing his thumb to the pad outside his place and his front door unlocks.
Without warning, Bucky presses himself up against Darcy’s back, hands clutching her waist once more.
“Hey, hey!” she cries, and he manages to brush the flesh of her stomach, making her jolt. “Bucky, hands to yourself.”
“Hands to myself,” he mumbles, and then he snorts into her hair, still flush against her.
She turns, and his smile is so warm. He keeps his hands on her anyway, and Darcy’s resting her palms against his chest, staring up at him.
“You need to go to bed. Sleep this off.”
“Come with me,” he murmurs, and Darcy’s eyes widen.
So he’s cuddly and horny. Darcy feels her face redden even more. She can feel her body betray her even more, the desire in her guts. He’s looking at her like he wants to eat her alive.
“Fuck,” she whispers.
This is so wrong. Bucky’s lips part at her curse word, and he stares down at her mouth.
“Wanted to tell you for ages. I get too scared.”
Wait, what?
“Thought I’d drink a bit to work myself up but… I’m wasted. God, if you knew, doll…”
“Bucky –”
He cuts her off with a kiss. His hands reach for her and he cups her face. She thought the ale would slow him down, make him clumsy but he exceeds expectations. He plies her mouth open and pushes inside with his tongue in seconds, making Darcy sigh. She presses her thighs together as he keeps going, tasting her, probing her mouth. He moves back for air and presses his forehead to hers, eyes squeezed shut.
“Fuck, Darce. I want you. I want you.”
He rocks against her for a second. He’s still drunk. Darcy moves back finally, panting a little. His lips are pink and wet, his eyes almost black.
She glances down and sees the clear outline of his erection and her eyes widen slightly.
“Bed. But not with me.”
She tugs him by the hand, moving down his hallway to his room. It’s so sparse it makes Darcy a little sad. He’s usually there all by himself every night. She separates from him, pulling back the covers on his bed.
“What do you wear for bed?”
“Nothin’.”
He says it so easily and Darcy thinks she might die.
She forces her groan back, nodding at him as he quickly peels off his Henley and shirt underneath before unbuckling his pants.
She looks away and hears him take off everything else before slipping into bed. She turns back, and he’s grinning up at her, cheeky.
She wants to tell him he’s not playing fair, but he grabs her hand, causing a distraction. She glances at his flesh thumb rubbing the back of her hand.
His eyelids look heavier. She lets herself smile at him.
“You’re so fuckin’ pretty,” he whispers.
“So are you,” Darcy replies. “But you’re drunk.”
He nods. “Tuck me in?”
She lets out a sigh, moving to pull the covers further up his bare stomach, knowing his hard dick is just inches away from her. She keeps pulling the cover until his chest is covered. His hand goes to her face before leaning forward.
He kisses her again, still managing to catch her off-guard with the heat of it but she breaks it off faster, knowing this was already taking things way too far for her liking.
“No, no,” she murmurs, and then she brushes her cheek with his lips and she pulls back.
He bites his lip between his teeth. Darcy lets out a breath.
“When you’re sober.”
“Okay.”
“Goddamn it,” she whispers to herself, turning her back.
Darcy can’t quite believe she’s leaving Bucky Barnes naked in his bed.
-
The next morning Darcy is the first one up, sipping her coffee. She’s sure she’ll see someone come in with a sore head. She’s not hungover at all, but still recovering from the night’s revelations.
She hears someone clear their throat and she glances up to see Bucky standing in the doorway, hands in his pockets.
“Hey,” he breathes, and Darcy smiles at him.
“Hey.”
She shifts in her seat and he walks over.
“Doll, I… I’m sorry.”
“No problem,” she murmurs. She sees he’s looking troubled and she touches his arm. “Really, it’s okay. We’ve all been there.”
“I’m such a creep.”
Darcy looks away, swallowing. Maybe he wasn’t as into her as she thought. He looks like he wants to curl in on himself.
“I wanted to ask you out last night. Got scared.”
Her eyes snap back to his.
“You weren’t kidding?” she asks, and he shakes his head. “You remember everything you said?”
“Yeah,” he says, and then he blushes. “Woke up feeling frustrated.”
“Try going to bed that frustrated, stone cold sober.”
“I have been,” he retorts instantly. “Since the day I met ya, doll.”
They stare at one another for several seconds and Darcy’s stomach flips. She reaches for him, threading her fingers through his.
“You hungover?” she asks, and he shakes his head.
“I think my metabolism kicked the worst of it.”
“I’m asking because I’m not doing anything right now. And we’re both sober.”
His face changes, and he blushes again. She loves that he’s so shy.
“You… wanna come to bed?” he asks, and Darcy bursts out laughing, leaning her head against his chest.
He kisses her gently, until Darcy hops off her stool and presses her hips to his, tilting her head up at him. She wraps her arms around his neck, their noses brushing.
She whispers:
“Stop being… so fucking cute.”