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1
She’s loud.
That’s the first thing he notices. Not obnoxiously so, but the woman has the kind of voice that fills a room; not by virtue of her volume, but rather her energy.
The Soldier is no stranger to people like her- his clearer memories are of handlers with commanding voices that could be heard from down the hallway. Scientist who flinched away from words made for cowering beneath. Presences made with intentions to rule and overpower. The hazier memories… those are of teachers, when he was a child. Of nuns and preachers who spoke calmly and without violence, yet could somehow fill a crowded room with their voice. Shaky memories of Steve; tiny, bristling with seething anger, crowding their apartment with his words.
The woman is the same… in as much as her bright and enthusiastic voice can be.
She breezes through the lab with the surety of a queen ruling over her domain- steps strong and sure. Behind her trails a beanpole of a kid, looking somewhere between harried and terrified, clutching an ever-growing stack of paperwork that she offloads to him. He sports a shiner over his left eye, faded by now to an ugly yellow.
It’s the boy who notices them first. He stops in his tracks, staring at him and Steve. Eyes wide- as though he’s seen a ghost- he doesn’t seem to register that the young woman had been expecting him to remain just behind her.
“Parker,” she barks in impatience, waving a paper folder behind her at him. “We’ve got a list of things a mile long that needs to be done today. Please don’t leave me waiting.”
“I- uh-” the kid stammers. The woman sighs and turns around, apparently unaware of their presence. She stalks over to him- as much as she can in her aging sneakers- and dumps the file into his crowded arms without ceremony. The guy pulls a face, eyes darting between the three of them and Steve finally decides that now is as good a time as any to speak.
“Doctor… Foster?”
The young woman startles, head snapping over to them, standing awkwardly at the lab door. A faint flush spreads across her cheeks as she takes them in, but she quickly recovers. Her eyes are blue, he notes with muted interest, lips generous and full as she smiles at them.
“Good Lord, no,” she hums, and strides over to them. “Darcy Lewis, scientist herder,” she addresses Steve and takes his offered hand fearlessly. “And the goldfish there is Peter Parker, my intern.”
Parker is making a fine show of trying (and failing) to remain composed. He offers them an awkward wave from beneath his mountain of paperwork, looking for all the world as though he wishes it were high enough that he could hide behind it. “Hi,” he squeaks.
The woman rolls her eyes. “Don’t mind him; it’s only his second day. He’s yet to get become immune. I’m afraid Jane’s not here right now; she needed to go to bed to mull over an equation that’s been eluding her.”
The blink at her in mild confusion, but Lewis offers no further explanation.
Steve coughs behind a hand. “Uh- right. We- uh- just came back from an extended road trip… Thought we’d do the neighbourly thing and introduce ourselves.”
“Oh,” she says brightly, smile growing even wider. Her lipstick is a warm but muted red. He likes the colour. “So you’re staying now?”
Steve shrugs. “As far as we know.”
“Well, welcome to the Tower, boys,” she addresses both of them. The gears in his arm whir softly in shock. “Any time either of your get bored, feel free to pop into the labs…. Best to avoid Tony’s though- he likes explodey things. And especially avoid the place if it’s Bruce and Tony working together. The man is a surprising enabler and things have a tendency to go either deliriously well or spectacularly bad.”
Steve bites back a grin, his eyes glance between him and Darcy expectantly. “Ah- duly noted.”
Something at her hip beeps insistently and her smile lessens, shifting momentarily into a scowl. “Duty calls.” Her gaze rests for a moment on his arm, gleaming brightly in the clinical fluorescent lights, before flicking up to his face. “See you around, boys” she purrs, and winks at him.
He opens his mouth, not entirely sure if he’s going to say anything, but it’s too late anyway because Lewis is already striding away with a conspiratorial grin, snapping her fingers at her young intern. The pair of them are gone before he can even think of something suitable to say in reply.
God, but he used to be smooth.
Steve huffs a surprised break, alone in the messy lab. “Did she just-” he breaks off, and he finds comfort in knowing that he isn’t the only one blindsided by the woman.
Bucky nods mutely. He scratches absently at the slightly raised skin of his right forearm and wonders what it is he’s exactly meant to do now.
2
It’s been over a year since he first broke free of Hydra’s conditioning, but Bucky has resigned himself to knowing that he’ll always have bad days.
Today he wakes with sweat on his brow and a scream hiding beneath his teeth, chest heaving, but the memories of the dream are already –blessedly- fading. They leave in their place as bone deep tiredness and an unshakeable sensation of disequilibrium. He groans up at the mint green ceiling- a calming colour, according to Jarvis- and searches for the energy inside him to get out of bed.
By the time he makes his way down to the common rooms, the only person there is Natalia. She looks refined and elegant even in jeans and a dusky red leather jacket, sipping at a shake an alarming shade of green. She greets him only with a raised brow and a nod at his entrance, and he tries to return the greeting verbally, but succeeds only in staring petulantly at her shake.
He hovers uncertainly at the kitchen bench; there’s an itch crawling beneath his skin. A restlessness that must show on his face because she offers him a smile- only the slightest twitch of lips but enough for him to read- and motions to him to follow her to the couch. Bucky complies, and when she lifts one of her arms he accepts the unspoken invitation, burrowing into her side with a familiarity he shares only with her and Steve.
He tries his hardest not to stiffen when her arm rests upon his shoulders, and sighs heavily when her hand rises to card slowly through his tangled hair- a gentle, grounding touch. Bucky closes his eyes to soak the attention in, and lets himself float. At least for a little while.
Darcy Lewis finds them forty-five minutes later; Bucky sitting blissed out on the sofa whilst Natalia makes the finishing touches to some kind of elaborate braid that he couldn’t quite bring himself to say not to. He feels peaceful and cat-like, legs sprawled akimbo, half-way asleep again already.
She raises a brow at the sight of them- Bucky leans against the sofa, Natalia’s denim clad knees bracketing his shoulders as she sits perched upon the back of the furniture. He’s torn between wanting to get up and flee from her, and wishing to stay right where he is and never move again.
He smiles at her happily instead- progress, he thinks- and the woman blinks at him in surprise before smiling warmly at him.
“Hey,” she says quietly. “Your hair looks nice.”
He keeps on smiling, feeling too warm and happy to bother with saying anything in reply.
Lewis dumps her handbag on the coffee table that is more often than not used as a footrest. She flops down at Bucky’s feet with a gusty sight, and he’s proud that only his fingers twitch at the movement.
“I am so keen for today,” she tells Natasha, and with another sigh thumps her head against the back of the couch to stare up at the ceiling. “But I swear to God, I could sleep a million years right now and still be tired.” She groans, “Stark’s been driving me insane these last few days; keeps on going on about lipstick or something, but he won’t take his scheduled naps. A day of retail therapy is much needed.”
Natalia huffs a soft laugh. “We’ll take one of his cars. I’ve always liked that orange Lamborghini of his. Maybe we’ll go for a drive first.”
Darcy groans happily and rolls her head to the side to look at them “That sounds glorious.”
Natalia hums happily, and pats at her pockets with one hand as the other hold firmly at the end of his braid. She makes a soft sound of displeasure in the back of her throat.
“Here,” Darcy laughs, and pulls a hair tie from her wrist to hand to the redhead.
“Thank-you.” His friend ties off his hair with efficient movements. She pats him on the head when she’s finished. “Time to go?”
Darcy groans from the sofa, watching Natalia manoeuvre herself away from Bucky with Baleful eyes. “I literally just sat down,” she whines.
Natalia rolls her eyes at the younger woman. “Suck it up, принцесса. There’ll be plenty of sitting to be done in the car. It’s peak hour.”
She groans again, but levers herself from the couch. “You’re killing me… can I drive?”
Natalia grins- a little wicked, a little gleeful. Bucky suspects there must be a story there. “As long as you let me send the footage back to Stark.”
“Isn’t that the point?”
Natalia snickers and his eyes widen at the sound. It’s rare for him to hear her laugh like that, but he likes it. She directs her smile from Darcy to Bucky. “We’ll be home for dinner, most likely.”
“Yeah,” Darcy agrees. “See you later, Buckster!”
He nods at her, mouth dry, voice nowhere to be found- once again. Natalia’s smile softens, as though she knows exactly what he’s trying to do (then again, maybe she does), and runs a cool hand over his hair one last time.
“Be good, James. Try not to get Steve into too much trouble while we’re gone.”
He huffs and rolls his eyes; as if it were ever him getting the idiot into trouble. No, he did that all on his own.
He opens his mouth to reply, but the women are already leaving and he watches them go with a faint sense of disappointment and irritation that once again, he’s failed to say something to Lewis.
Again.
God dammit.
3
She comes at him with a mild look of terror in her eyes and a large plastic gun in her hands.
“Barnes!” she hisses in relief, and then her hands are reaching out for the lapels of his jacket and manhandling him in front of her. He makes a soft sound of shock at the unexpected touch- she’s lucky he doesn’t take out a knife.
Faintly, he hears a strange sliding and thumping sound that can only mean that Barton’s in the air vents again.
“Crap. Cover me, bro,” Darcy huffs softly, and with that she’s silently sliding open the door to the walk in pantry and slipping inside. The door closes behind her just moments before Clint emerges from the vent, landing on the kitchen counter with nimble feet and narrowly avoiding the half-empty fruit bowl.
Bucky calmly takes a slow and noisy sip of his smoothie (Natalia had shown him how to make them. He’d been experimenting with flavour combinations ever since). “Barton.”
Barton is covered in glitter, Bucky realises. Large starbursts of purple, pink and blue, as though he’s been shot by small glitter bombs. He grips another plastic gun- just like the one Darcy has, only his is spray-painted purple. A bright yellow shows beneath the occasional scratch in the paint-job.
Bucky finds himself proud that he doesn’t manage to laugh outright at the sight of him.
“Where is she?”
He makes a show of enjoying his smoothie- not a difficult feat, because it’s pleasantly cold and tastes like mangos and mint. He slurps obnoxiously, just to be an asshole.
“Where’s who?”
“Darcy!” Barton’s eyes are scanning the kitchen as though it will tell him all of its secrets. There’s a slightly manic look in his eyes and glitter in his hair that shines prettily in the late afternoon light.
“Who’s Darcy?” he asks, just to be obtuse. Steve would be proud.
Barton… not so much.
Bucky never knew someone could convey such contempt while covered in enough glitter to look like they’ve rolled in the remnants of a Mardi Gras parade, but hey, you learn something new every day.
“You know! Short and stacked, with a tendency to run her mouth?” Bucky does in fact know those things- quite well, in fact. He’s been keeping tabs on her recently, though he still can’t bring himself to say anything. He keeps his face carefully blank and Barton carries on, voice growing deliberately louder. “The woman who just cheated? She gave me craft herpes, man! The craft equivalent of herpes and this crap is never leaving!” he runs a hand through his hair, grimacing when a shower of glitter erupts from him at the move.
“Oh,” he says gleefully, an idea occurring to him, “that Darcy. She’s in there.” He points behind him at the pantry.
Both of them hear the faint sound of her exclamation in surprise, and the pantry doors fly open, a streak of dark hair and galaxy leggings darting out. Barton shouts wordlessly at her attempted escape, jumping from the counter to grab her as she runs past. Darcy shrieks and grapples with him but Barton just laughs at her and slings her over his shoulder.
“That’s enough, girlie-girl. You’re gonna pay for what you did. Stark is Not Amused.”
She shoots him in the ass in protest, and Bucky laughs quietly at the explosion of glitter the soft foam makes upon impact.
As though sensing his amusement, Darcy glances up and bares her teeth at him in outrage. “Traitor!” she screeches at him. Bucky grins and she growls, lifting her gun and shooting at him in revenge. He neatly dodges it- though for a civilian armed with a children’s toy, her aim is surprisingly good- and offers her a jaunty wave as Clint walks them to the lift.
Her face- mouth agape in abject betrayal- as the doors swiftly close, has Bucky snickering in amusement for the rest of the day.
4
“Stark!”
Bucky startles from his seat on the cold metal bench, eyes darting out of the closest weapon (a heavy-looking wrench) before he gets a hold of himself.
Darcy strides into the lab with a thunderous expression on her face, an envelope scrunched between the fingers of one hand. The man in question glances up at her only momentarily before going back to his work on Bucky’s arm. The dexterity in his fingers has been playing up recently- enough of a pain to even go to Stark in the first place.
“Oh, Darcy. Hi.”
“What is this?”
“It’s an envelope.”
Darcy growls at him, but for all her apparent anger, she approaches them carefully. “It’s what’s inside the envelope, Tony, that has me angry.”
“Oh?” the genius asks with faux innocence. “And what’s inside?”
She pokes at her cheek with her tongue, clearly trying to settle her temper. Bucky thinks she looks lovely nonetheless, but he’s glad her ire isn’t directed at him. Especially after the glitter incident. “It’s a letter congratulating me for paying off my student loans. Any idea why they’d be sending me that?”
Stark shrugs with his face. “Not a clue! But I think a celebration is in order- Jarvis, you wanna order us some pizza and champagne for tonight? Lewis just paid off all her debts!”
“No I didn’t!”
“Of course, sir.”
Bucky bites his lip and tries very hard not to laugh. It’s somewhat surreal to be stuck in the middle of an argument between Darcy and Stark. It’s like watching two giants bash heads, only with less chance of bloodshed.
Darcy breathes out slowly, jaw clenching. “You can’t just pay off all my debts, Tony.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Her eyes narrow dangerously. “Do not play coy with me, Stark! Do you want another repeat of the Friday Incident?”
He visibly pales, head darting up to stare at her. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me.”
He caves, and Bucky’s not sure if he should be concerned that the genius capable of creating Iron Man caves so easily to the anger of a woman so tiny. “Alright, so I paid off the rest of your debts! I don’t see what the deal is here, Lewis; shouldn’t you be thankful? Isn’t that every college kid’s dream?”
She glares at him. “I was paying them off plenty fine by myself! I didn’t need your charity when there are plenty more-deserving people out there who aren’t as lucky as me!”
Tony sighs and turns back to his work on Bucky’s arm. He does something Bucky can’t quite see and he breathes out long and slow and the sudden relief of pressure, as though a dam has suddenly broken. “Would it make you feel better if I made it your next Christmas bonus for the next…. Five years?”
She makes a soft sound of shock. “Five years? Tony, how much were you planning on giving me as a Christmas bonus?”
Stark shrugs and Bucky wonders at the kind of people who are entirely comfortable discussing these kinds of matters in front of him. “I don’t know- enough to make up for all the explosions and sleepless nights?”
Darcy rubs a hand across her face in frustration. “You can’t keep doing this, Tony.”
“Why not? I like you, Lewis. You’re a smart, capable woman who puts up with far more than you really should. Let me treat you. Aha!” he exclaims in triumph, and Bucky something clicking into place in his hand. His arm whirrs at the change and Tony closes up the open panels with a smug grin. “All done, Robocop! You feel any more twinges and you call me.”
He nods and wiggles his fingers experimentally. They feel better than they have in a while and Bucky thinks he might just take the man up in his offer for a full maintenance if that’s what it’s going to feel like afterwards. He hops down from the bench and takes Tony’s offered lollipop with a roll of his eyes. “Thank, Tin-Man,” he replies dryly.
He turns back to Darcy to finally- finally- say something- anything- to her before he leaves, but his throat closes up at the sight of her, eyes bright, a faint line of unhappiness between her brows and hair escaping her lazy bun in dark wisps he’d like nothing more than to run his hand through.
“How come I never get any lollipops?” Darcy complains, winking at Bucky in mischief. Something in his chest loosens at the sight, knowing he’s been forgiven for the thing with Clint.
At a loss of anything else to do, Bucky tears off the wrapper and shoves the sweet into his mouth. Her eyes narrow and he smiles at her cheekily. Gives her a returning wink just because he can.
“Oh,” she drawls. “Cheeky, aren’t you.”
He blinks at her innocently, fighting a shit-eating grin; waves at her, and scarpers from the lab, grinning a little to himself at her answering laugh, quickly replaced by more arguing as the doors of the lab close behind him.
5
“I hate you!”
Bucky pauses outside the gym, frowning. He’s never heard such venom in Darcy’s voice before- not even during and immediately after the glitter incident.
“Darcy, I am only doing what the Lady Natasha asked of me.”
“Screw that! You’re all trying to kill me!”
“I’m honour bound to-”
“Honour bound my ass! Ya’ll just wanna see me suffer!”
“Nay, my Lady Darcy, we all simply desire to see you shine and remain safe. Now, I know that you can do another thirty ‘body crunches’.”
There is a loud and fleshy thump and a frustrated groan. “I hate all of you. I think I’d rather just have them kidnap me and wait for you guys to find me.”
There is a long and weighted pause.
“You do not truly with that.”
A heavy sigh. “No… I don’t. Sorry.”
“It is no matter, Darcy. Said in the heat of the moment.”
“Yeah…” another sigh. “Lets get this over with, then you can carry me back upstairs, ‘cause I’m pretty sure my legs aren’t going to work after this.”
“Very well,” Thor replies, sounding both amused and relieved. “And I believe I promised you ice-cream.”
She giggles. “Hell yes you did! This is why you’re my favourite.”
Sensing that it’s now safe to enter, Bucky walks in, just in time to see Darcy begin her crunches. She’s red faced and sweaty, in a revealing tank top and tights, and Bucky politely averts his gaze from the sight. She may be his soulmate, but he’s aware it doesn’t entitle him to ogling. Thor- inexplicably- is sitting on a yoga mat, stretched into a position Bucky never thought a man of his size could manage.
He nods at them when they realise he’s joined them, and if anything Darcy’s face grows redder, flush travelling down her face to her chest.
“Greetings, Sergeant Barnes!” Thor says with far more enthusiasm than Bucky thinks is warranted when they guy’s somehow twisted his leg behind his head.
As expected, when Bucky tries to speak back, his throat closes, mouth going as dry as a desert. Fortunately, it doesn’t seem like Thor and Darcy are interested in chatting, and he moves to the line of souped-up treadmills without being accosted by any well-meaning conversation.
He does however, take the liberty of removing his shirt, fully aware of the way Darcy’s eyes follow him across the room. Bucky can’t help but smirk at the faint sound he hears from Darcy as the discarded shirt falls to the ground.
+1
Bucky Barnes has fought through World War II. He’s been captured by Hydra- once to turn him into a super soldier, and the next to turn him into their unthinking tool. He’s killed countless people, fought Steve, torn Sam from the sky, shot Natalia twice and destroyed Hydra as thoroughly as he could. He has, now that he really thinks about it, lived a very long and eventful life.
And yet, never has be felt such trepidation as he does at this very moment, glaring at the door of his soulmates apartment, finally ready to speak to her.
He’s been planning this for weeks. And yet now that the time’s finally come, he’s second guessing himself and dithering over a goddamn doorbell. Over his chosen words, over how she’ll react, even though he knows she’s interested. Even though he’s knows her eyes follow him around a room more and more lately- almost as much as his do.
Bucky glares at her door, bouquet of flowers feeling like a dead weight in his hands. He’d felt confident in himself about this- was happy with the words he’d been agonizing over for weeks, fighting with his misplaced sense of unworthiness (as Sam and Steve both put it) and fear that he’ll hurt her. Even though he’s much better these days and hardly ever has bad days.
He breathes out, long and slow, searching inside himself for that piece of him that used to be a hit with the ladies, and moves to his the doorbell before he can chicken out of i-
“Bucky?”
He startles violently, almost dropping his flowers- white lilies and baby’s breath (he’d intended on getting her the traditional roses, but the lilies had been so beautiful and fragrant that he’d not been able to buy anything else)- and swinging around, eyes wide.
Darcy stands before him, in a burgundy dress that stops just above her knees and lipstick to match, dark stockings and her usual sneakers. She is beautiful.
Her eyes flicker down to the lilies and then back up to his face, expression inquisitive. “What are you doing here?” she asks, not in judgment, but curious.
He squares his shoulders, pulls himself up to his full height and thrusts the flowers at her. “These are for you,” he blurts out before his idiot brain can catch up.
God.
DAMMIT.
Darcy’s breath catches, eyes widening. They seem to stare at each other for an eternity, and Bucky takes the liberty of memorising the shapes of her face, certain she is going to reject him.
“It’s… you?” she whispers after an age, sounding breathless and bewildered. He nods- a little too quickly- and her hand comes out to take the bouquet from him.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, and like a dam has broken, he suddenly finds himself unable to stop. “I tried- I really did. Every time I saw you I tried to say something but I- I couldn’t. Steve said I was being an idiot, but you kind of terrify me. Well not- not you… I mean, you do, a little, but I think the idea of you was what scared me.”
Darcy frowns at him a little, “I scare you?”
“I didn’t think I was worthy.”
She bends her head a little, breathing in heady scent of the lilies- the smell of them had plagued him all the way up to her apartment. “But you… do now?”
His hands clench. “It occurred to me that maybe I should leave that decision up to you.”
Her eyes, when she looks back up at him, are soft and thoughtful. There’s a small but genuine smile on her face that makes his heart skip a beat or two and he swallows thickly. “That’s a heavy burden,”
“It’s yours though,” he breathes as she touches a lily petal shyly, “if you’ll have it.”
Darcy steps in close, the smell of lilies and something like coconut crowding his nose. Her free hand reaches out, tentatively taking his metal hand and he smiles at her, hoping all of his nervousness and insecurities can’t be found in the expression. Darcy’s smile grows wider in response and he can feel her squeeze his hand tightly. He returns the pressure as gently as he can.
“I think,” she says slowly, looking up at him through her eyelashes, and now it’s his turn for his breath to catch in his chest. “That I’d like that very much.”
And then she’s leaning in for a kiss, the scent of lilies growing stronger as she crushes them slightly between them and her lips are soft against his and her hair smells like coconut and everything- everything- is utterly perfect.
She pulls away and Bucky mourns the sight, even as she smiles gently at him, eyes shining happily and there’s a warmth like sunlight speeding through his veins. He wants to do that with her again forever, if she’d allow it.
She blinks and her smile turns to mischief. “But Bucky?”
“Yeah?”
“Next time you keep something like that from me, I will kick your ass.”