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i. [++]
“This feels very spy movie,” she says quietly, assuming the comm she’s wearing will pick it up over the rushing noise of traffic and the plinking sound of rain hitting her umbrella. A piece of loose blonde hair falls in front of her face and she tucks it back behind her ear. “Also, just fyi, when I picked up a blonde wig and a trench coat, I had better ideas in mind than rendezvousing at a dive bar.”
“Yeah?” His voice is low and rough in her ear; she tells herself the shiver is because it’s chilly out and the rain isn’t helping. “Why? Whaddya got under the trench coat?”
She snorts and steps off the curb with the rest of the crowd to cross the wet street. “Nothing you’ll be enjoying any time soon.”
“No? I don’t know, the bathroom was pretty clean last time...” he muses teasingly.
She rolls her eyes. “That was a one time mistake. Bathroom stalls are gross, and I paid too much for this set to let it touch anything that hasn’t been sanitized.”
He laughs under his breath. “Just gonna end up on the floor anyway...”
“Yeah, if you don’t rip this one.” She turns right as she reaches the other side of the street and scans the thinning crowd. She can’t spot him; she never can. He’s a lot better at this than she is. He says half the reason he does it is to help her work on her awareness, see if she can pick him out from everybody. The other half is because they’re keeping things quiet. She’ll admit there’s some thrill to the whole sneaking around thing. But it’s been three and a half months, and she’s starting to wonder if this going to turn into one of those things that gnaws at insecure nerves when they’re not together.
“You weren’t complaining at the time?’
“Uh, excuse you, I definitely remember saying, ‘hey, that cost an arm and a leg, buddy,’ and you said, ‘I already lost one, this is worth the rest.’”
“And then you never brought it up again.”
“Yeah, well, I was a little distracted after that.”
“Just a little?”
She bites her lip and shakes her head, her hair falling loose again. The next time she wears a wig, she’s going to bobby pin the hell out of it. Tucking the hair back, she eyes the front windows of the stores on her left and looks for the blinking red Open sign on their usual spot; the ‘n’ is always out. Despite her calling it a dive, their bar is really more like a hidden gem, a hole in the wall with good food, cheap beer, and the comfort of anonymity.
She steps under an overhang to keep dry, and shakes off her umbrella before she closes it and tucks it inside her bag. Glancing back, she finally pushes the door open and steps inside. There’s a small, windowless, foyer between the street doors and the bar doors, a pin board wearing various flyers that date back more than a few years. Her inner-assistant wants to throw out what’s not useful and reorganize the mess, but in a strange way, it adds to the appeal of the bar, much like how the sign outside doesn’t match the name on the menus but they’re too cheap too update one or the other.
She’s just about to push open the swinging bar doors, when somebody comes in behind her. His hands find her waist before she can turn and then she’s got her back against the wall and her front plastered to his chest. The t-shirt he’s wearing under an open jacket is thin and damp from the rain, it clings to him.
He’s wearing a baseball cap under his jacket’s hood, drawn up to keep his hair from getting wet. She reaches for it, pushes it back until his face isn’t shrouded anymore, though the dim light seems to enjoy painting all the dips and hollows of his face. Her nails lightly drag down his cheek, catching on stubble, and she stares up into his eyes.
“How far behind me were you?”
“Not far. Keep your enemies close and they never see you coming.”
Her mouth hitches at the corner. “So we’re enemies now?” She draws the comm from her ear. “Is this a Mr. and Mrs. Smith fantasy I wasn’t aware of? You need to give me a head’s up on these things.”
His hand skims over the knot on her jacket, but keeps climbing, pausing where it crosses atop her chest. “Have I seen that movie?”
“Part of it. We were... distracted.” Her brow furrows. “Come to think of it, we get distracted a lot.”
“I’m feeling distracted right now.” He tugs the open her jacket, bit by bit, revealing the lacy, purple negligee underneath. He bites down on his lower lip, drags a fingertip over the curve of her breast.
Darcy watches his finger slide down, but then presses her hips forward, against his, and grins at the grunt he gives. “I was promised a beer, and a basket of wings.”
He looks up at her, pulls the puppy dog look she’s fond of.
She pats his cheek. “Honey, we have all night. Cheap wings only last the next hour.” She reaches up, pulls her wig off and stuffs it in her bag before she slides out from under him and walks to the door. “Coming?”
He follows after her, sighing, and then picks up a piece of blond hair hanging out of her bag and frowns at it, a brow raised.
“What? You don’t think it suited me?” She walks ahead, heels clicking on the floor, and he keeps pace with her, hand falling to the small of her back as they make their way down the aisle between the bar and the booths.
“You could wear a garbage bag on your head and I’d think it works. Just didn’t think you’d go for blonde.”
“They were out of red.” She slides in on one side of the booth and waits for him to take the opposite side, facing the rest of the bar. “I was going to break out some Jackie O sunglasses too, but I thought that might push it a little.”
He snorts, leans back in the corner of the booth and scans the room.
Darcy flags a bartender and tells them she wants the biggest basket of wings they’ll give her and two beers.
She sits back in her seat and puts her bag down between her and the wall. Reaching up, she runs her fingers through her now loose hair, scratching above her ears where the wig chafed.
He taps his gloved, metal fingers against the table and raises an eyebrow. “So? How was work?”
“You tell me. You walked past the lab a record six times.” She smiles up at the bartender in thanks when he drops the beers off for them. Cracking hers open, she takes a drag and then pulls a coaster out for each of them. “Miss me?”
He shrugs, picks at the label on the bottle. “Had to see Stark about somethin’.”
“Six times...” She’s amused and not bothering to hide it.
“Might’a checked in a couple times...” He frowns. “Not a lot to do at the tower when I’m not allowed in the field yet.”
She hums. “When’s Steve due back?”
“Tomorrow, day after, one or the other.”
“Tomorrow. Does that mean you’re staying at mine tonight?” she wonders.
“Easier at your place.” He takes a sip of his beer, leans forward so his elbows are on the table. “That okay with you?”
“Well, I didn’t dress up for the wings.”
“With how many you plan on putting away, you could’a fooled me.”
Darcy snorts. “Right, because you won’t eat most of ‘em.”
He smirks. “’m a gentleman, I’ll eat what you can’t.”
“There is no ‘can’t’ when it comes to wings.” She rests her chin on her hand and stares at him searchingly. “Have you told Steve you want back in the field?”
“Mentioned it a couple times...” He shrugs. “Thinks I’m not ready. That I’m still adjusting.”
“Are you?”
“Sure. So’s he. There’s a lot to get used to. Think I’m doing all right though... See a therapist three times a week, don’t want to murder my best friend every time I see him, remember most of my memories, got a gorgeous girl... Gotta count for somethin’, right?”
“Can’t say I’m eager to send you off to fight, but if that’s what you want to do and you think you’re ready for it, then maybe skip the concerned best friend and go to the source.”
“Hill?”
“She’s the one that sets up most of the missions. I mean, yeah, Steve’s the Captain, but if she thinks you’re ready, he can’t throw the progress card down anymore. Maria’s smart, and she’s unbiased, which, let’s face it, Steve isn’t. Not when it comes to you.”
He hums, nodding slowly. “Yeah. Maybe.”
Darcy shrugs. “Up to you.” She sits forward. “Any chance on your six drive-by’s you saw the Great Poptart Culprit?”
Bucky snorts. “Last week it was the Frosting Fiend.”
“My money’s still on Barton. But I wouldn’t put it past Tasha to just make it look like Barton...” Her eyes narrow thoughtfully. “She’s still pissed at him for getting shot in Kiev.”
"Pretty sure he didn’t do it on purpose.”
“Nobody said worrying about someone is logical. If you start going on missions and get shot, you are cut off from wings and lingerie. For at least a week.”
He ducks his head as he smiles. “Already planning for it?”
“Sure. Or I’m giving you more reason not to get shot.”
“Lingerie’s nice, but I wouldn’t complain if you weren’t wearin’ any.”
Darcy’s head falls back as she laughs; she reaches her beer over to his and knocks the necks together.
Reaching a leg out, he tangles it with hers. “You gonna nurse me back to health?”
“Nurse, nag, same difference.”
He nods. “Good.”
“You know if that happens though, people are gonna talk...” She raises an eyebrow. “Who is that wildly attractive blonde woman that keeps sneaking into Barnes’ hospital room?”
He shakes his head. “Pretty sure they’ll recognize you, wig or not.”
“Not with my Jackie O sunglasses. It’s a fool proof disguise.”
“Yeah, we’ll see.”
“Uh-huh, just don’t get shot to prove a point.” She frowns at him. “Seriously.”
“Gotta get in the field first.”
Darcy shrugs, eyes wandering away as the bartender comes out from the kitchen, giant steaming basket of wings in hand. “I have faith in you,” she says returning her gaze to Bucky. “You’ve come this far.”
The basket is placed between them, with the bartender nodding at each of them, before he walks off to take another order.
Darcy plucks one from the top and licks her lips. “Date night’s my favorite night.”
“Pretty sure after six days it turns into date week.”
She grins. “I’m getting in as much time as I can before I become one of those lame girlfriends who wears your clothes and smells your pillow because you’ve been gone all week and I’m lonely.”
“You already do that.”
“Do not. I stole your pillow. I did not sniff it.”
His expression is unconvinced as he grabs up a wing. “You say so, doll.”
Darcy licks barbecue sauce from her fingers. “I do. And so it’s law.”
He grins behind the cover of his chicken wing. “What else happened with the Poptart thief?”
Humming, she took a deep breath. “Okay, so...”
The rest of their dinner was spent exchanging stories about their day, and Darcy relaxed into their usual banter, her foot lightly rubbing up and down his leg. When the basket was finished-- and he really did put away more than half, but she was certainly no slouch-- she stops at the bathroom to clean up and then joins him back in the bar. In the foyer, she puts her wig back on and pops a kiss to his mouth before she steps out of the bar and draws her umbrella once again.
Comm in her ear, she starts her trek down the sidewalk, destination: her apartment.
“Remind me again why I thought heels were a great idea?”
“They look good.”
“Yeah, but they feel like hell.”
“That a hint that you wanna foot rub when we get home?”
“Who’s hinting? I’m saying it outright.”
He chuckles lowly. “Deal.”
Darcy grins to herself. Sure, having a secret relationship can be more work than a not-so-secret one, but it’s worth it.
ii. (++)
As four month anniversaries go (are those a thing? whatever), Darcy’s not complaining.
“You’re the reason my Netflix keeps suggesting sports movies.” She hands him a beer as she takes a seat beside him on the couch and grabs up her lo mein from the coffee table. “Judge me all you want, but the only baseball movies worth watching star children or Geena Davis.”
“You cried when we watched Field of Dreams.”
“That’s totally different!”
“Had baseball in it,” he points out.
“Fine, so there are some outliers, but no more sports documentaries. Why don’t you see what’s in the classics? Then you can tell me all about your teenage crush on Jean Harlow or Ginger Rogers.”
“Was more of a Bette Davis fan.”
“I’m up for that.” She passes him her lo mein and steals the controller. They bicker over a few different movie choices before settling one they both like.
He kicks back on the couch, pulls the knit blanket off the back and lays it over both their laps. He knows her. She’ll get her fill of food and then use him as her personal pillow.
Darcy’s apartment is small, but nice, kind of reminds him of when he was younger. The noise from the traffic outside is familiar and oddly comforting. Avengers Tower was built to block out excess noise, but Bucky finds it kind of eerie sometimes. The Tower can be a little sterile, less homey than he wants it to be. Steve tries to offset the feeling with old pictures and a record player, but he’s not around as much lately, spending a lot of his time on missions. And what time he does have off, he splits between Bucky and the girlfriend he thinks Bucky doesn’t know about.
Maria Hill. He looked into her a few times, with the help of both JARVIS and Darcy. He’s got nothing against Hill, but he’s not keen to trust anyone that came out of SHIELD. He’s pretty sure that’s half the reason Steve hasn’t introduced them.
Darcy drops her half-eaten box of lo mein on the table and sprawls out beside him, resting her head in his lap and pulling his arm down. She absently strokes her fingers along steel plates, nails catching on the seams where they meet. She’s never shied away from it, but she also doesn’t get that gleam in her eyes like Stark does whenever tech’s in the vicinity. As far as he can tell, she treats it the same as his other arm, and he likes that.
When they first met, she was just coming out of Foster’s lab. A harried look on her face and a fire extinguisher in her hands. She was chasing DUM-E out and shouting at him to ‘go bug his dad.’ She bumped into him as she turned back around, and he’d caught her by the waist before she ricocheted off of him to the floor.
They were pressed together, soft curves meeting hard edges, when she looked up and said, “Usually reserve that for the second date, hot shot.”
“How’s coffee sound?” It was an instinctual reaction more than anything.
She’d laughed. “I like coffee. Add a muffin and you’re golden.”
“Deal.”
Coffee and a muffin turned on a warm Sunday morning into a three hour conversation at a quiet coffee shop a few blocks away. Things had just progressed from there. Keeping it quiet was the result of a couple things. He wanted something for himself, something that wouldn’t be criticized or picked apart. And he was still a little paranoid about HYDRA, if they had people keeping an eye out for him, searching for a way in. He didn’t want Darcy to become a target, but he didn’t want to give her up either. He liked what they had. It was simple and personal and his. For the first time in seventy years, he had something, someone, all to himself.
“Hey?”
He hums, looks down at her.
“You okay?” she wonders, squeezing his forearm.
He nods. “Yeah. ‘m good.”
“Kay.” She stares at him a moment longer and then turns her attention back to the movie.
He watches her a few seconds longer, a warm feeling of contentment unfurling in his chest. His fingers find her hair, stroke through it absently, as he turns his attention back to the television. The movie ain’t half bad, but the company, now that’s perfect.
iii.
"Cut it out,” she mumbles sleepily.
He smiles to himself, sitting up in bed, his back against the head board. “Cut what out?”
“You’re staring.” Her eyes are still closed and her hair is a mess, tangled around her shoulders. She’s balled a pillow up under her head and is hugging it.
“Think it’s called ‘admiring,’” he corrects, reaching out to swipe her hair back from her cheek.
“Nobody admires half-asleep, drooling people...” She opens her eyes, blinks a few times, and then looks up at him. “What’re you doing up this early? Sun’s barely out.”
He’s been awake a while, listening to the rain against the window. He doesn’t sleep for very long these days and sometimes he worries he’ll have a nightmare with her right there. That he’ll snap awake, not know where he is, and do something he can’t take back. So he drifts, not completely asleep but not awake either, sinks into the warm comfort of her next to him, steady breath skittering over his skin. Tonight was different. He asked Hill to put him on rotation and she hadn’t immediately shot him down, he can’t stop wondering what it’ll be like when he gets back in the field. If Steve’ll fight him on it. If Darcy’s still gonna be there in a few months when he comes home tired and with a little more blood on his hands. Blood he chose to put there this time.
“Couldn’t sleep.” His fingers find her shoulder, draw looping circles over her skin. “Gotta head back to the tower soon anyway.”
She lifts her head and squints at the clock on the end table beside him. “Steve ever ask you why you’re getting in so early?”
He shrugs. “Not usually. He’s not fessing up about him and Hill, so he’s probably hoping if he doesn’t ask, neither will I.”
“I like Maria,” she muses, eyes falling to half-mast.
He smirks. “That’s because she approved your taser.”
“Smart lady, on par with Pepper Potts and Jane. If she wasn’t already with Steve, I might steal her for myself.”
“Yeah?” He shuffles down the bed and presses a kiss to her shoulder. “Just leave me out in the cold?”
“I don’t know what her stance is on polyamory, so we’d have to see.”
He laughs under his breath, nuzzles against her neck. “Should I be offended you’d pick Hill over me?”
“You should applaud my good taste.”
He slides a hand down her back, shuffles, the blanket out of the way, and draws her her leg up and over his hip.
Darcy turns her body toward him, opens her eyes, and smiles softly. “Are you trying to woo me with sex, Mister Barnes?”
He ducks down, kisses her shoulder, then her neck, her cheek and her chin. “Will it work?”
Her fingers skim through his hair. “Maybe.”
He grins against her lips. “I can work with that.”
She laughs as he presses her back against the bed.
He thinks she’s well wooed when, an hour later, she snuggles up to him and murmurs, “Hill who?”
iv. [++]
Sam thinks he’s being paranoid, but Steve knows Bucky. He knows what he’s like when he’s seeing someone. Bucky spends most of his nights out, comes back early in the morning, and he might try to hide it, but he’s got that smile he used to get when he'd spent his night under the sheets with a dame.
Steve’s been keeping busy on missions, but he’s not blind. If anything, he’s more alert than ever when it comes to his best friend. Bucky’s been making a lot of progress. He keeps up on his therapy, has put in a real effort to make friendly with the team, and he’s been slowly regaining a lot of his old personality. He has his set backs, days where he goes blank or monotone or just can’t be around people. But they’re getting more and more rare.
Lately though, he’s been good, distracted but happy. And Steve knows part of it is because he’s free from HYDRA, can make his own choices, build up a better life. But he also knows it’s something else. In the past, Bucky had no shortage of dates. Finding a dame to give him the time of day was easy. And even now, the few times they’d gone out together, he still attracted the same kind of attention, even with the suspicious scowl and brooding eyes.
Before the war, before everything, Buck had never minded introducing Steve to most of his girls, especially if he thought they might have a friend for Steve to snag a date from. But there had been more than a few that snuck out just as the sun was rising, avoiding any entanglements in the light of day. Now it was Bucky sneaking back as the sun rose. Steve figured maybe Bucky was just trying to work off some steam, nothing serious. Because if it was serious, he’d tell his best friend about it, right?
“Those look like some serious thoughts, mon capitaine,” drawls a familiar voice.
Steve looks up, blinks himself out of his head, and offers a crooked smile to Darcy. “Hey, Darce, what’re you doing up this late?”
“Jane had a breakthrough. At least that’s what she said; I’m pretty sure 'breakthrough’ is just code for ‘science and I are having a love affair, don’t get between us.’”
He snorts a laugh and watches as she gets everything together to make her famous homemade hot chocolate. He perks up a little in his seat. “Any chance you’ll spare a mug for a weary soldier?”
“How weary is this soldier? Whip cream or chocolate sauce weary?” she wonders, and takes down two mugs from the cupboard.
“Is both an option?”
“Sure, but I’m all out of chocolate shavings, so you’ll just have to cope.”
“No shavings?” He shakes his head. “What kind of farce is this?”
She giggles, shaking her head, and gets a saucepan out. “Music?” she asks him.
“You got your iPod?”
“I’m offended you even have to ask.” She digs it out of her back pocket, headphones wrapped around it, and hands it to him. He plugs it into the dock on the counter and turns it to her 40′s mix, it never fails to send a thread of warm nostalgia rushing through him.
Darcy hums under her breath as she adds each ingredient with the ease of someone who’s done it a thousand times before. It doesn’t take long, a handful of songs at best, before she’s filling each mug, adding the whipped cream and chocolate drizzle, and then sliding his across the counter.
“So?” she leans across from him on the island. “What’s on your mind?”
“Therapeutic hot chocolate?”
She smiles. “Best kind.”
Not for the first time, he finds himself softening around her. Darcy has a habit of making him feel like a regular person and not like the battle hardy Captain that most see him as. There are no hero-eyes from where she’s standing, just a friend looking out for a friend.
He clears his throat, shifts in his seat, and finds himself asking her, “Have you noticed anything different about Bucky?”
She pauses, her eyes darting away for a moment. “Different how?”
“Just... I don’t know. He seems distracted lately. At first I thought maybe it was just because he’s so hell bent on joining us on missions. But lately it seems...” He frowns. “It’s hard to explain. There are these... things. He used to act a certain way before and I can’t tell if I’m just looking for signs that he’s his old self or that they’re legitimate.”
“Like what?”
“Well, like... Back, before the war, Bucky used to spend a lot of time at the dance halls. He’d close ‘em out every time, never had a shortage of partners. Unless he was going steady and then he never had eyes for anybody but his girl. But when he was single...” He half-grins. “Well, he was happy to take whoever for a spin and they were happy to oblige.”
“So he was a ladies man...?”
He winces, not particularly fond of the term. “Not exactly. It wasn’t... Some girls just liked the flirtation, the dancing, having his attention for a while. Other girls were happy to take him home. Or, well, have him take them home. Buck was always discreet, he never did or said anything to ruin a dame’s reputation. And I guess... I don’t know. It feels like that. Like he’s, well, ma would’a called it ‘tom catting around,’ but... Buck just-- It was hard back then. You looked for comfort where you could, even if it was just for a night. And I’m wondering if that’s what he’s doing now. Finding comfort to help cope with readjusting.”
“Is that a bad thing?” she wonders, spinning her cup absently.
“No, of course not. I just... I guess I want more for him.”
“Like you and Maria?”
He pauses, looks at her with wide eyes. “You know about that?”
Darcy shrugs.
He clears his throat, drops his gaze. “We’re... figuring things out.”
“Sure, but, it’s exclusive. You want it to work out.”
He nods slowly. “Yeah, I do.”
“So if you’re keeping you thing with her quiet, what makes you think Bucky’s not doing the same?”
“Because.” He lets out a frustrated sigh. “ Bucky always... He’s discreet when it’s not serious, when he knows it’s not going anywhere but he doesn’t want what they’re doing to get her in trouble. When he really likes someone... You can’t get him to shut up about it. When he falls, he falls hard, and loud.” He smiles to himself. “He’s never been afraid to show off a dame he really likes.”
Steve stares down at his hot chocolate a long moment, watches the whipped cream soften and mix itself into the rest. He scoops off the top with a finger and licks it clean.
Darcy’s quiet and he looks over at her, sees her staring at her own untouched drink, her brow furrowed.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t be putting this on you,” Steve tells her, shaking his head. “Just been bugging me, I guess. Wasn’t sure if I should just ask him or let him be. I know the team thinks I smother him a little, but I only do it because I’m worried.”
“No, I get it. You’re a good friend.” She licks her lips. “I’m sure it’s just a faze. You’re probably right, he’s just looking for comfort. He’s got a lot going on. A distraction,” she says, nodding. “They only last so long.”
Steve opens his mouth to say something more, but Darcy checks her watch on her wrist.
“Sorry, I should get back to Jane. Who knows what kind of trouble she’s getting into.” She salutes him jokingly, just as she always does, but her smile is dimmer than it was when she first got there. “Nice talk, Steve.”
“Yeah. Hey, thanks for the hot chocolate. And therapy.”
She nods. “Always here to lend an ear, that’s my motto.”
“I thought it was ‘don’t poke the bear, she’s got a taser.’”
“I have a few of them. That one needs work. It’s just not the same if they don’t rhyme.”
He laughs under his breath, and then waves a hand as she turns on her heel to leave. It’s not until she’s on the elevator back to the labs that he notices she never touched her hot chocolate.
v.
Steve’s not trying to eavesdrop. He’s not actively trying not to either though. He’s just passing Bucky’s room, the door closed, when he hears him pacing on the other side. In his defense, Bucky’s been acting strange all week, cagey and agitated. Steve can admit he’s worried it’s a relapse. Bucky still has nightmares occasionally, but they don’t seem any more or less frequent than usual. But Bucky’s been home seven nights in a row, which is different. And Steve’s stayed up late enough to know he’s not just waiting for him to fall asleep so he can sneak out and then back in the next morning. So whatever was happening the week before, it must be over.
There’s a sigh on the other side of the door and then Bucky saying, “Can you just call me back? Please. I don’t... I don’t know what’s going on... I don’t know what I did, but can we talk about it?” There’s a long pause then. “Can’t fix something if you don’t tell me how I broke it.”
There’s a beep signalling he’s hung up then and Steve lingers, wonders if he should knock or just leave him be. But then there’s a crash, the sound of a something smashing against a wall, and Steve takes a breath.
He raps his knuckles against the door. “Buck? You all right?”
“m fine,” he calls back. “Was an accident. I’ll clean it up.”
“...you’re sure?”
Bucky’s quiet for a second and then, in a much more subdued voice, he replies, “Yeah. I just... You know where the dustpan is?”
Steve nods, though he knows he can’t see it. “I’ll grab it.” He walks down the hall to the kitchen, digs around in the closet for a broom and dustpan, and then makes his way back. He opens the bedroom door to find Bucky kneeling over the remains of a lamp, stacking bits of debris on top of each other.
“Here,” Steve says, and kneels down to scoop everything into the pan. With a faint smile, he says, “Never liked that lamp anyway. Stark did all the decorating.”
Bucky snorts, rubs a hand over his mouth, and then sits down, his back against the wall and one knee drawn up. “I overreacted.”
“You wanna tell me what about?” Steve pushes the dustpan out of the way and mimics Bucky’s pose. “You wanna talk about anything?”
He’s quiet for a long moment, picking at his thumb with his forefinger absently. “Nothin’ to talk about. Figure it out on my own.”
“Okay. Just... You don’t have to.” Steve turns to him earnestly. “I’m here, and I’m happy to listen.”
“Yeah, I know.” He offers up a vague smile. "Maybe some other time.”
Steve nods. “Okay.” He pushes himself up, grabs the pan and the broom, and starts for the door.
“Hey, Steve...”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
“Sure, Buck. Any time.”
He lingers a moment, hopes maybe Bucky will open up, but when all he does is stare at the floor, his brow furrowed and his mouth twisted up, Steve eventually leaves. He keeps an ear out for him for the rest of the night, but Bucky turns in early, crawls into bed and doesn’t move until morning.
Bucky’s fidgeting more than usual, pulling at his tie and constantly scanning the room.
Steve could chalk it up to him being uncomfortable in his tailored suit since he’s gotten used to dressing down lately, but he thinks it’s something else. He wasn’t keen on coming out tonight, and Steve can’t blame him. He’s not a fan of most parties, always feeling like he has to put on a show. Tony’s aren’t the worst, surprisingly. Maybe because Pepper controls the guest list. But Bucky’s been isolating lately and he thought it might be good to get him out. The team is there to add a little comfort to the situation, but now he’s wondering if maybe the crowd is just too much.
“You want another drink?” Steve wonders.
Bucky’s been nursing the same glass of vodka since they arrived, but he knocks it back suddenly, hands the glass to Steve and says, “Yeah, please.”
With a nod, he turns to back toward the bar. Sam’s on a stool, smiling at Natasha as she puts her own drink together. There are bartenders, but she never accepts anything from someone she hasn’t personally vetted. And even then, the list of people she trusts is short.
“Hey,” he greets them, dropping the glass on the counter. “Can I get another vodka? And what kind of beer is on tap?”
“Expensive, imported crap,” Natasha replies, her lips twisted wryly. “Stark buys the best, if you judge on price tag instead of taste.”
“Some of the imported stuff isn’t bad.” He shrugs. “Better than that champagne fountain he set up last time.”
“Darcy liked it,” Sam says, half-grinning. “Could’ve been because it was pink though.”
“She convinced Stark to build her one for her apartment, but Pepper vetoed it,” Natasha adds, smirking.
Steve shakes his head, amused. “Only person I know that could actually pull off having one in her apartment.”
Sam nods, takes a drag off his beer. “A hot chocolate fountain, now that I’d get behind.”
He perks up at the idea. “We could put one in the communal kitchen...”
“Where’s Darcy at anyway? I don’t think I saw her.” Sam scopes the room. “Saw Foster earlier, she and Banner were arguing about something.”
“Science. She’s one of the few people in the labs that doesn’t mind going head to head with him.”
“Besides Stark.” Natasha pushes a pint of beer and a glass of vodka in front of Steve. “And Darcy’s with her date.”
“Who’s the lucky guy?” Sam wonders
“Some rich exec Pepper introduced her to a few times. He liked her ‘moxie’ and asked her out. She’s turned him down every time, but when he asked her to be his date for tonight’s party, she changed her mind.” Natasha’s lips purse. “You’ll know him when you see him. Fake smile, teeth so white you need sunglasses.”
“Sounds like you don’t approve...” Steve tells her, eyeing her expression curiously.
“I don’t,” she says plainly. “But she’s stubborn and won’t take my advice, so here we are.”
“And what’s your advice?” Sam wonders.
“Putting her cards on the table,” she replies vaguely. “She’ll figure it out. I just hope it’s not too late.”
“Didn’t know you were this invested in her personal life.”
“She’s a friend. I’m looking out for her.” Natasha grabs up her own drink and clinks it against both his and Steve’s. “Have a good night, boys. I have a man with a bow to lure out of hiding.”
“Last I checked, he was nesting in the rafters by the balcony,” Sam calls after her.
She grins back at him over her shoulder.
Sam watches her go and shakes his head. “Woman’s going to chew me up and spit me out one day, and I’ll thank her for it.”
Steve snorts. “You could try dating someone less lethal.”
“What, like you? Pretty sure Maria Hill could take you out just as efficiently and I don’t see you hiding from her.”
With a sigh, he shakes his head. “Does everybody know we’re seeing each other?”
Sam shrugs. “Pretty sure Stark and Banner are in the dark. Foster’s always behind on team gossip. Can’t tell with Thor though, he plays it close to the vest. If he does know, he’s not saying anything.”
Steve takes a seat on the stool in front of him. “We’re not ready to tell everyone. We just... wanted some time, to adjust, to... I don’t know. Have something of our own.” He frowns. “Everything with the team, with SHIELD and HYDRA and Bucky, feels like I’m constantly under a microscope.”
“Hey, I get it. We all do. That’s why no one’s pushing you two to make it public. Figure you’ll let us know when you’re ready.” Sam half-smiles. “It’s like with Barnes. You thought he was seeing someone, right? So you gave him his space, let him come to you. Anybody understands what it’s like to need something for himself, it’s him. Guy’s been under HYDRA’s thumb, now he’s got the world scrutinizing him, everybody just waiting for him to blow up. I know I bugged you about being paranoid, but... Think you were right. And I get it, you know, after everything that happened, think if I found something good to hold on to, I’d want to keep it private for as long as I could.”
Steve nods, his brow furrowed thoughtfully.
“Think I spotted Darcy’s date...” Sam tips his chin and Steve turns to follow it, pausing as he sees a tall man, styled blond hair, classically handsome, with bright white teeth and the kind of smile Steve’s gotten used to seeing on politicians. “Might be with Tasha on this one... Darcy can do better.”
“She doesn’t look too happy,” Steve notices, frowning.
“Turned the guy down enough. Wonder why she’d say yes this time...”
Darcy looks beautiful; she’s traded in her comfortable jeans and sweater for a sleeveless, purple dress and tall black heels. But the smile he’s used to seeing on her, cheerful and friendly, is muted and forced. Her date has his arm around her waist, he squeezes her whenever he laughs, the sound ringing false. Darcy smiles politely at the couple they’re talking with, but drowns it in her champagne glass, knocking back half of it in one gulp.
“You wanna save her or should I?” Sam asks.
Steve’s about to climb off his stool when he sees Bucky slink out from the edges of the crowd. He’s tense, his shoulders drawn back and his mouth set in a line. But it fades abruptly when Darcy’s date turns to him. Suddenly Bucky looks calm and friendly; he motions at Darcy and then behind him, as if she’s needed for something.
Her date nods, ducks to press a kiss to her cheek, and releases his grip on her waist.
Darcy looks between them and then sighs; she finishes off her champagne, drops the glass on a passing waiter’s tray, and then walks off with Bucky.
“Looks like we can sit this one out,” Steve says, his gaze following Bucky and Darcy as they keep walking, right through the crowd and toward a door leading out of the room.
Sam hums, stands from his stool. “Barton’s giving me the bird signal. Tasha must’ve caught up to him. I’ll see you later.”
“Yeah, sure. I’ve gotta make my rounds soon,” Steve says.
“All right.” He knocks his knuckles on the bar and then walks off to help Clint.
Steve lingers at the bar a moment, but there’s something gnawing at his gut, a fledgling suspicion that’s starting to unfurl. He stands abruptly, considers his options, and then starts toward the door he saw them leave through. He second guesses himself twice, but keeps walking. It’s not until he reaches a bend in the hallway that he hears voices.
“...a date you could’ve asked me.”
“Since when? As I remember it, dates were never this public. Besides, we’re not like that anymore. I told you--”
“You barely told me anything. You sent me some vague text and then you stopped answering my calls.”
“It wasn’t vague. It was simple. We’re over, it doesn’t need to be a thing.”
“It was already a thing. It was our thing... I don’t know what happened. You won’t tell me what I did wrong.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong!”
Steve edges closer to the corner of the wall and peers around it.
Darcy’s back is against the wall and Bucky’s in front of her. They’re standing close, almost pressed together, but there’s enough space that if she wants out, she’s not being pinned.
Her head tips back against the wall. “We just... We wanted different things. We were looking for different things. And that’s fine. I’m fine with that. I just...” She sighs, and her voice sounds a little thicker, “I don’t get why you’re fighting this. It was good. We had a few months, it was fun, and now you can focus again. Start your field missions. Do... Do whatever.”
“Is that what this is about? That Hill gave me the okay for missions? You said you were okay with that...” He stares at her searchingly and shakes his head. “You said you’d be there.”
Her eyes close tightly and she bites her bottom lip. After a few seconds, she blinks rapidly, and when she looks back at him, she’s smiling faintly. “You’ve got a lot on your plate.” She smooths a hand over the lapel of his jacket and swallows tightly. “And I don’t want to be a distraction.” With that, she nods, and slides out from in front of him. She walks down the wall, head held high, and she doesn’t look back.
“Darcy...” Bucky calls after her. “Darce.”
When she’s out of sigh, his shoulders finally slump and he drags a hand over his face. Turning, his back hits the walls and he slides down it to sit on the floor. His face falls forward, against his arms, crossed over the tops of his raises knees.
Steve lingers, remembers a conversation over hot chocolate, and a weight grows in his stomach that feels a lot like guilt.
vii. [+m]
Bucky doesn’t come back to the party. Steve sees Darcy a few times, back at her date’s side, smiling for his benefit and politely sharing small talk with strangers. He tries to figure out what the best way to approach the situation is. Give him a difficult mission and he can figure out three different ways to infiltrate an enemy base, but relationships... women... Not his forte.
Maria finds him at the bar, staring at Darcy and her date, frowning.
“Between you and Natasha, I’m considering whether Darcy’s date needs a protection order.”
He cracks a faint smile and turns to her. “Think I might’ve messed up.”
“Yeah? How’s that?” She turns in her seat to face him, long legs crossed at the knee.
He balls his hand into a fist when it automatically tries to reach out and rest on her thigh. “You remember I told you I thought Bucky was seeing someone... Or multiple someones...”
“Mmhmm.” She nods, reaches under her hair for an earring and fiddles with it absently. “You thought he was looking for comfort. A distraction from how complicated his life has been.”
He winces. “Right. Well... I mentioned that to Darcy. We bumped into each other one night, so I... I told her I was a little worried, that he’d been out more than usual... Suggested that whoever he was seeing couldn’t be serious, because I know what he’s like when he really cares about someone.”
“Ahh...” She nods knowingly. “And he’s been seeing Darcy secretly.”
He sighs. “I didn’t know. I thought... The Bucky he was before, he was open about that kind of stuff. If he really liked a dame, he wanted me to know, wanted me to like her...”
“So now she thinks he never cared, that she was just to pass the time.” Maria snorts, shaking her head. “Well, when you dig a hole, you don’t play around.”
He groans, leaning back against the bar, his shoulders slumped. “How’d you ever give me a chance? I’m always putting my foot in my mouth.”
She shrugs, her smile soft and sincere. “I found it oddly charming. When you’re surrounded by people who can lie like breathing, it’s nice to have someone I can trust to be honest... Your intentions were good, at least. You were looking out for your friend.”
“Yeah, and I sabotaged his relationship.”
“Okay. So, fix it.”
“How?”
“Tell him.” Shaking her head, she says, “No way around it. Besides, he knows you, he knows how terrible you are with women. He’ll get that it was just a big misunderstanding, forgive you, and, hopefully, make it up to her.” Her eyes wander back to Darcy then. “You should probably do it soon though. Maybe not here, since we don’t need a public fight, it’s bad for publicity, but soon.”
“Fight? You think he’ll take it that bad?”
“He respects her, he won’t go after her date. But you did convince his girlfriend he didn’t care about her... I said he’d understand, I didn’t say he wouldn’t deck you.”
Steve sighs, slumping in his seat. “Couldn’t I just tell Darcy? I owe her an apology.”
“Talk to Bucky first, you owe him that. You can apologize to Darcy tomorrow. Maybe, if you’re lucky, Bucky will soften her up for you... And she won’t taser you.”
His eyes widen. “You think she will?”
“It’s her go-to for conflict resolution...” She waves a dismissive hand. “Even with Stark’s enhancements, it won’t kill you. Might knock you out for minute, but you’ll bounce back.”
He snorts. “Your concern is overwhelming.”
She smirks slowly. “I’ll kiss it better.” Sanding from her stool then, she winks. “Good luck with Barnes.”
He watches her leave, and doesn’t sigh until she’s out of sight. He can only put it off for so long. With one last glance at Darcy and her date, he finishes off his beer and stands from his seat.
viii.
Bucky goes for a walk rather than head home; he spends a couple hours in their bar, eating more wings than even he should be putting away, and drowns his misery in beer that’s having no affect on him. They found this place a couple weeks into their relationship; it’s nothing all that special. Just a nice, low key place for them to spend some time together without people watching them. But it was theirs.
He doesn’t get it. He thought they were doing okay. She was happy, wasn’t she? He’d been happy with her. Happier than he remembered being for a long damn time. Maybe that’s why it couldn’t last though. Seemed like whenever his life was getting back on track, getting some kind of traction under it, something happened to knock him down again.
He only wanders back to the Tower at closing time, and he drags his feet the whole time. Part of him hopes Steve is at Maria’s so he can continue in his downward spiral of self-pity. Another part of him hopes he isn’t, but it’s petty, because then Steve doesn’t get to be happy either.
The apartment door is closing when he feels that prickle of awareness that tells him someone else is in the room, shrouded in darkness. He’s reaching in the drawer for a spare gun when a lamp beside the couch flicks on and he turns to see Steve waiting for him.
Relief swamps him. Shaking his head, Bucky snorts. "I miss curfew, dad?”
Steve rolls his eyes and shifts in his seat. He’s still wearing his suit, but his tie is pulled loose and the fabric is wrinkled, like he’s been sitting around in it for a while.
“You missed the rest of the party...”
“Yeah, well, needed a breather.” He shrugs out of his jacket and undoes the cuffs of his shirt, rolling them up his arms. “Surprised you’re waiting up for me... Thought you’d be at Maria’s.”
Steve winces, his eyes falling to his lap. “Would be, but I needed to talk to you.”
He sighs, already feeling tired. “If this is about me going on missions...”
“It’s not. I’ll admit, I was hesitant at first. I worry. But if you think you’re ready, then I’ll support you on it.”
“Yeah?” He eyes him curiously.
“Yeah, Buck.” He nods. “I know you think I’m holding you back, and sometimes I am, but it’s only because I care.”
He frowns. “I don’t need you to hold my hand.”
“I know that. I... I’m still learning to let go. After everything that happened, getting you back, it was like... a miracle. And I guess I’ve been holding on too tight. Sometimes I forget that it’s not... It isn’t like before. We’re not who we were before, not completely. We’ve both changed. We’re not the same guys who ran around Brooklyn.”
He nods slowly. “This what you wanted to get off your chest?”
“Uh, no...” He grimaces and sits forward in his seat. “Couple weeks ago, I... I said some things that I regret. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I was caught up in this idea of you from before and I might’ve...” He blows out a heavy breath. “Look, you and Darcy, I-- I didn’t know she was who you were seeing. I thought you were just blowing of steam. All those nights you stayed out, the mornings you snuck in early. I thought you were picking someone up at a bar. I didn’t think it was a relationship.”
“Steve...” He stares at him, hands balled into fists. “What’d you do?”
“I was talking to her, said you’d been acting differently lately. That it reminded me of back, before the war, when you had a bit of a reputation with women... And that--” He winces. "That whoever you were seeing probably wasn’t all that important because if she was, you would have introduced us, because that’s what you do and I can usually tell when you’re serious about a girl. So you were probably just looking for a distraction...”
[ “I don’t want to be a distraction.” ]
Bucky’s eyes fall closed and he curses under his breath.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know. I thought--”
“You thought what?” he half-shouts. “Why didn’t you just ask me?”
“You were keeping it quiet, it’s what you used to do when you--”
“It’s not the forties anymore. I’m not that guy anymore. I-- I just wanted one thing for myself. I wanted one person to myself!”
“I know that now. I didn’t realize that’s what it was...” He shakes his head. "And I had no idea it was Darcy or I wouldn’t have said anything.”
He laughs bitterly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Great. That’s great. My girlfriend dumped me because my best friend tells her I don’t care about her.”
“In my defense--”
“You were doing the same thing with Maria and I didn’t say shit,” Bucky interrupts. “Because I got it. I got why you wanted to keep it quiet. And you couldn’t give me the same damn courtesy.”
“It was a mistake,” he insists. “Look, I didn’t want to interfere. I gave you your space. But you knew I was with Maria. I had no idea you were seeing Darcy. She’s a friend, I vented, I didn’t know...”
He sighs, rubs a hand over his face, and turns, grabbing up his keys from the end table by the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To tell my ex-girlfriend my best friend’s a dumbass and beg her to give me another chance.”
Steve stands from the arm chair. “I can come with you, explain that it was on me, apologize for my part in it.”
“No, thanks, but I think you’ve done enough.”
Steve grimaces. “Buck...”
“I’m mad. I’m pissed, actually. But I get it. Just... Let me figure this out.”
He nods, but stares after him with a hang-dog expression.
Bucky rolls his eyes. “Will you stop? I’ll forgive you. I just need to focus on Darcy right now.”
“All right.” Steve nods, shifting his feet awkwardly. “Tell her I’m sorry.”
“You’ll tell her,” he says, before he pulls the door open. “Right after I do.”
ix. [++]
He stands in front of her door for a good ten minutes just trying to figure out what he’s going to say. It’s two in the morning, for all he knows she’s in bed. Or, her date went better than expected... He knows he’s jealous. Has been from the moment she walked in with another man on her arm. He’s been beating himself over the head for the last two weeks, trying to figure out what he did or said that made her leave him.
He hasn’t been good at communicating since he was brought in from the cold. It’s easier not to talk, to keep it inside, than it is to try and work through it. There’s so many conflicting thoughts and feelings, sometimes he’s not sure what’s his or someone else’s. People are always telling him what’s right, what’s wrong, what he did, what he didn’t do, what’s his fault and what wasn’t. It was different with Darcy. He could just be. In the moment, wherever they were, he was just who he was. But something must’ve gotten lost in translation. He must’ve missed a key moment to speak up. He must’ve stayed quiet when he should’ve spoken up. Because all it took was a conversation with Steve and she doubted every minute they spent together.
It’s so quiet in the hallway that when he knocks, it sounds too loud. He winces, looks back and expects the neighbors to pop their heads out and see what the ruckus is about. But there’s nothing, no one, just the faint rustle of socks on the floor, muttering under her breath, before she reaches for the door. He’s relieved when she leaves the chain on; he can’t count how many times he told her to always check who it is, never make it easy for anyone to get inside.
“Hey,” he says as she stares at him through the cracked door.
Her eyes are squinted, either because she’s not wearing her contacts or because the hallway light is too bright.
“Can we talk?”
“It’s two in the morning,” she reminds him.
“Wouldn’t drop by like this if it wasn’t important...”
She sighs, hesitates a moment longer, and then closes the door and slides the chain off it. Stepping back, she swings it wide and motions with her arm to invite him in.
He steps through, lets his gaze wander her from head to toe. His mouth kicks up at the corner. “That my shirt?”
Glancing down at her self, she shrugs, lifts her chin and says, “Laundry day.”
He doesn’t argue, just nods, and walks further into her apartment. It looks the same even though he feels like he hasn’t been there in ages. Same blanket still folded over the back of the couch, take-out menus littering the dining room table, her shoes piles up in the corner by the front door.
“So?” she walks past him and into the kitchen, pours herself a glass of water and sips at it.
“Talked to Steve tonight... He was bent outta shape, wanted to confess how much he screwed up...”
She stares down into her glass and hums.
“Darcy... He’s wrong.”
“About what?”
“About all of it.” He shakes his head. “Look, he still thinks I’m who I used to be, that everything I do now is some kinda mirror to what I used to do... I won’t lie, I was with girls before, some of ‘em for just a night or two. Mutual comfort. We both knew what we were gettin’ out of it. Neither of us wanted more. That’s not what me and you were. Are.”
Her eyes stay down and he shifts his feet, balling his fingers into his palm so he doesn’t wring his hands.
“When you and me met, you were wearing this pink skirt, same color as your earrings. And I remember looking at you and thinking... I’ve never seen anyone so beautiful.”
She scoffs, shakes her head.
“It’s true. I never stopped thinking that. I just... I forget to say things outloud sometimes. I figure you know, so I don’t think I have to tell you. I thought you knew how I felt about you. That I was serious about us. That the hiding thing, that was never because I didn’t care. I didn’t want you getting hurt, didn’t want HYDRA to track you down, use you like a bargainnig chip. But more than that...” He shakes his head. "I didn’t want to share you. Spent seventy years doing what other people told me to do. Sleep, eat, fight, kill. And I... When I was with you, all of that just kind of faded for a while. I could just be me.”
She’s not quite looking at him, more at the collar of his shirt, but it’s progress.
He licks his lips, scrapes his teeth over them. “What Steve said, it was stupid. He’s shit with women, always had been. But he’s right. I-- I should’ve told him. When I figured out how much you meant to me, I should’ve should’ve told both of you. But I was selfish. I wanted to enjoy it a little longer before all the questions came and people started asking me if I thought I was really ready to be seeing someone. If I was good enough or you were safe enough. All of it. We made this little bubble and I was happy in it. Maybe it was naive, thinkin’... I can love her just like this, just me and her, screw the rest of the world...”
Her eyes meet his, a little shiny, and she’s biting down on her lip. It takes her a few false starts, but eventually she says, “It didn’t bother me. I liked our bubble, even liked sneaking around, and our date nights. Wasn't until he said it that I started wondering if maybe he was right. Maybe I’m just a coping mechanism until you get it all figured out. And I got it, you know? After everything you’d been through, you just wanted something nice, something easy, but I...” Her smile was shaky. “I was already falling for you, so... I might love you, but I’m not a life preserver. If we’re in the middle of the ocean and there’s a door for both of us to float on, I’m not going to swim next to it and freeze to death while you wait for the rescue boats.”
"Okay, I told you when we watched that movie they both could’a fit on there.”
“Not that point.” She points at him to stall his response. "And we’re not arguing about it again.”
He smothers a smile. “Darcy, I don’t want you to save me. I’ll admit, I’m still working through things. But me and you... it was never about fixing me or keeping me afloat. It was having something normal and good in my life. It was falling for a funny, smart, beautiful dame, and not letting all the rest of my crap get in the way of it.”
She hugs her arms around herself. “So what now?”
He shrugs. “What do you want?” There’s a nervous energy stirring in his stomach. He laid a lot on the table and now he’s wondering if maybe it was too much. Did he explain it right? Were his explanation even good enough? She could still decide that the whole thing was just more trouble than it was worth.
“I went on a date tonight,” she says, nodding. “Malcolm was handsome and funny and strangely charming. I mean, he needs to lay off the Crest White Strips, but... other than that, he was a good guy and a great date”
His heart clenches in his chest, but he tries not to let it show.
“And the entire night, all I could think was that I really wanted chicken wings and Netflix and...” She blows out a sigh and smiles faintly. “You.”
The breath that leaves him is heavy with relief. He searches her face hopefully and crosses the space between them. “That mean what I hope it means?”
“It’s not all on you, or Steve... I should’ve talked to you. Should’ve let you know what I was looking for and what I wanted and... Yeah, well. I screwed up too. So maybe we both need to work on our communication.” She reaches out then, tucks a finger between the buttons of his shirt and tugs. “Sound good?”
His hand smooths over her hip and tugs her closer. He bends, dropping his forehead to hers. “Real good.”
Darcy’s arms wrap around his waist as she leans in so they’re chest to chest. “Cool. Make-up sex?”
He laughs, and then reaches down to lift her up, her legs wrapping around his waist. She kisses him as he carries her down the hall to her bedroom, her fingers threading through his hair. Sure, they’re not perfect, they’re still figuring this thing out, but they’re doing better.
Later, when they’re wound around each other, sweat still cooling on their skin, she’ll murmur, “You love me?”
And he’ll kiss her forehead and say, “You love me too.”
x.
Steve’s a little nervous. He hasn’t seen Bucky since Friday night, and only briefly glimpsed Darcy earlier that day when he was passing by Foster’s lab. But Buck had texted, said he was fine and told him to meet them at this address. A chalk board behind the bar boasted cheap chicken wings; he ordered two baskets and a pitcher of beer as an apology.
When Bucky finally stepped through the swinging bar door, he was wearing a familiar grin, his eyes were bright and happy, and he had Darcy’s hand tangled in his as she walked just behind him down the narrow aisle leading to the booth.
“Hey,” Steve greets them. “Uh, hope you don’t mind, but I already ordered for us.”
Darcy winks. “As long as wings are on the menu, you’re halfway to forgiven.”
He smiles, shoulders relaxing with relief.
Bucky waves her into the booth before he slides in beside her. With a smirk, he waves his thumb to her, “Stevie, this is my girlfriend, Darcy. Darce, this is the idiot troublemaker I was telling you about.”
Rolling her eyes, she tucks her purse down on the seat beside her and grins indulgently. “Nice to meet you, troublemaker.”
“You too,” Steve replies, not bothering to hide his amusement. He looks between them and nods. “You know what this means?”
Bucky raises an eyebrow.
“We might actually get to double date without it ending in disaster.”
He snorts. “Hill up for that?”
“Am I up for what?” Maria pulls a scarf loose from around her neck before she slides in next to Steve. “Hey, are the wings here any good?”
Darcy perks up. “See?” she says to Bucky. “Meant to be.”
He chuckles under his breath and rests an arm around her shoulder. “Think you might have to settle for friendship.”
“We’ll see. Just remember, I already a replacement for you in mind.”
He pulls her in and kisses the top of her head. “Be on my best behaviour,” he murmurs.
Darcy leans into him. “I’ll hold you that.”
Maria's hand covers his; he folds their fingers together and squeezes. Steve grins into his beer and finds he’s feeling better in that moment than he has in a long time. He’s got his best friend back, and they’re both happy, healthy, and in love. What more could he ask for?