Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Avengers Tattoo is one of the nicest studios in New York, and one of the hardest to get into. The wait times are usually at least a year and a half, depending on the artist. Luckily, Darcy’s looking for an appointment with a piercer, and that’s much easier. There’s a cancelation, and she’s able to get in the same day she called, leaving her last class at NYU and making the relatively short subway ride to the studio.

The studio looks exactly like the pictures she’s seen online. The walls are a vibrant blue and covered in framed works of art, mostly from artists in the studio, it seems. The large shop is separated into three partitioned areas, each with a privacy curtain in front of it. She’d been expecting loud, blaring music, but while she can hear Metallica, it’s at a soft enough volume not to be intrusive.

There’s a dark wooden desk when she first walks in, a blond man sitting behind it with a sketchbook in front of him. He looks up when he hears her, a sunny grin spreading over his face. He sets the sketchbook aside, giving her his attention.

“Welcome to Avengers Tattoo!” he says. “How can I help you?”

“Hi, I’m Darcy, I have a 3:00 appointment for a piercing,” she says.

“Perfect, I’ll let him know you’re here,” he says and stands, heading toward one of the closed privacy screens.

Darcy meanders over to the closest wall, looking at the art covering nearly the entire surface. Her gaze lingers on a painting of a mermaid with a shark tail, then to the next frame over, an intricate tower covered in vines in front of a swirling sunset of oranges and purple.

“Holy shit,” she says under her breath, caught up in the painting. “That’s gorgeous.”

“Thank you,” a soft voice says from behind her and she whirls around, red tingeing her cheeks at being caught. She’s never quite gotten out of the habit of talking to herself. The perils of growing up playing alone.

The man behind her has long brown hair pulled back into a bun, a few tendrils loose around his face. He’s smiling slightly, looking at her with kind blue eyes, and oh no, he’s hot. She swallows hard and manages not to voice her thought aloud, thankfully.

“You painted that?” she asks.

“Yeah,” he says, looking a bit bashful but pleased. He offers his hand. “I’m Bucky, you’re my 3:00?”

“Yeah,” she says, shaking his outstretched hand. “I’m Darcy.”

“Come on back, we’ll go over what you’re looking for,” Bucky says, gesturing for her to follow him, and damn, his ass is amazing, too. The blond at the front desk raises his eyebrow, giving her a knowing look, and her blush is back in full force. She follows Bucky, keeping her eyes straight ahead.

Bucky leads her to a room next to the partitioned tattoo areas, motioning for her to sit on the padded table. Her legs dangle above the ground and she fights not to swing them back and forth and kick him in the crotch or something. The inevitable nerves are hitting, and that seems like something she’d do when anxious. She’s been to this rodeo before, has her nostril and septum pierced in addition to plenty of piercings in her ears, so she knows how it goes, but she still gets that little bundle of nerves right before.

“Okay,” Bucky says, sitting on his stool across from her. “What’re you wanting to get done?”

She hadn’t really considered the ramifications of having a hot piercer for this, but he has the highest ratings nearby, so, ya know. “I want to get my nipples pierced,” Darcy says.

“Okay,” Bucky says easily. She didn’t really expect gross leering, but you never know. “I recommend barbells over rings for new piercings. Are you interested in horizontal or vertical?”

“Horizontal,” Darcy says. “And yeah, barbell is fine with me.”

“Okay,” Bucky says, reaching onto his desk for a clipboard. “Fill out this paperwork here. I’ll get the jewelry ready and make a copy of your ID while you do that, then we’ll be good to go.”

Darcy hands over her ID and starts on the paperwork, checking that yes, she has eaten; no, she isn’t pregnant; yes, she is over eighteen; yes, she accepts aftercare responsibility. Bucky moves around the room while she fills it out, dipping out briefly to make a copy of her ID before he’s back, pulling out the jewelry and sanitizing everything. He’s done before she is and takes the paperwork from her.

“All right, so I’m going to have you stand up and take off your shirt, then I’m going to clean the area and use a pen to mark placement,” Bucky says. “That sound good?”

“Yep,” she says, clearing her throat when she squeaks a bit. “Yep, that’s fine.”

Bucky smiles slightly, and it’s unfair that he’s so goddamn hot when he’s going to be seeing her shirtless in a professional, completely not fun setting. He closes the door, cutting them off from the rest of the studio and turns his back, focusing on the jewelry while she takes off her shirt and bra. She’s sure her face is bright red when he turns back around, but she keeps her head high. She’s never been shy, and she’s not about to start now.

Bucky’s face is pure professionalism when he looks at her, but she catches the way he swallows hard and she’s gotta say, it’s gratifying, especially coming from someone as ridiculously attractive as him. He rolls up the sleeves of his henley, and that’s when she notices the prosthetic. It’s not like any she’s ever seen, shiny and shaped like an actual arm. Her uncle’s had been an awkward, cumbersome thing that he’d always said was a pain in the ass, but Bucky seems to move with ease.

“It doesn’t affect my work,” Bucky says, voice clipped. She looks up at his face and realizes she was caught staring. Shit. “If you want to find someone else, I understand, but—"

“No,” Darcy says quickly, shaking her head. Oh god. “No, I was just impressed at how modern it is. My uncle always complained that his looked like it was a hearing aid.”

“What?” Bucky says, brows furrowed.

“It was the kind of hearing aid shade of beige and pretty clunky, and he hated it,” she says with a shrug. “He wanted something sleeker.”

“Oh,” Bucky says, and she can’t quite read his face, but she’s very aware that she’s standing in front of him with no shirt on and—Bucky shakes his head, as if to clear it, and his face switches back to professional mode, tension bleeding from his shoulders. He slips on a pair of gloves and takes the alcohol swab in his hand. “I’m going to clean the area, then mark for placement. That okay?”

“Yeah,” Darcy says.

He steps closer, his face level with her chest, and this is probably the most serious anyone has ever looked while staring at her tits. Her nipple instantly hardens at the cold touch of alcohol and she bites her lip to keep in any embarrassing noises. He wipes the left first, then the right, before taking a pen from the counter.

This...should not be erotic in any way. Bucky is sitting on his stool in front of her, eye-level with her tits as he stares at her nipples, pen poised in the air in front of her. Nevertheless, her nipples have always been sensitive and her imagination wild, and Bucky is sexy as hell and right there. So she swallows hard and tries to be still while he carefully touches the pen to each side of her nipples, marking where the piercings will be.

“Okay,” Bucky says, rolling his stool backwards. “Take a look in the mirror and see if that looks even to you.”

Darcy does as he says, walking to stand in front of the full length mirror on the wall. She looks down at the little purple dots on the sides of her nipples. She sags her shoulders a bit, standing more naturally, and they still look even to her.

“Looks perfect,” she says, gaze landing on Bucky in the mirror. He’s standing behind her at a respectful distance, but his eyes are on her tits.

“Yeah,” he says, voice low. Then his eyes jerk up to her face. His face is inscrutable, but she thinks there’s a faint blush over his cheeks. It makes her breath come short. He clears his throat and turns away. “Go ahead and lie down and we’ll get started.”

She takes a brief second to tell herself to behave like the adult she is before she lies down on the table, the crinkle of the paper loud in the room, the sounds of Metallica now faint from the main studio.

Bucky comes over and she looks at his face, avoiding looking at the needle in his hands. He smiles slightly, like he knows exactly what she’s doing. “You have piercings, so I’m sure you’re probably used to this. I’m going to count to three. Take a deep breath on two and exhale on three. I’ll go on three. Try not to flinch.”

She nods, the nervousness rushing back now that the needle’s this close and her horniness is pushed to the side. She looks up at the ceiling, unable to look at what he’s doing.

“Okay,” Bucky says, voice soft and calming. His fingers are pressed against her nipple and in any other situation she would be thrilled about that.

“One.”

She exhales shakily, closing her eyes.

“Two.”

She takes a deep breath in.

“Three.”

She exhales, then his fingers are moving and—

“Mother of MOSES!” She doesn’t shout and doesn’t flinch, but it’s a near thing. That fucking hurt. She’d expected the sharpness and knows it can be an extremely painful piercing, but Jesus Christ.

“Just one more second. You’re going to feel a pinch, that’s me setting the jewelry, then this side is done,” he says.

She makes a face at the pinch, exhaling harshly, then his touch is gone. Her nipple is throbbing and she doesn’t look, just keeps breathing. Bucky’s back a few second later to clean the area, because she’s bleeding, because she’s stupid enough to ask someone to stab her in the nipple! Fuck. She doesn’t need both done, right? She can come back and do the other one later. Or not, fuck it, she can be uneven, she can…

Goddamn it, she can do this. She closes her eyes, taking as deep of a breath that she can without jostling her nipple. Her heart rate is calming down, though her anxiety is hanging around because it turns out her nerves were so valid.

A shadow falls over her and she opens her eyes to see Bucky looking down at her in concern. “Did you eat today?” he asks.

“Yeah,” she says. “I’m not passing out, just reconsidering all of my life choices.”

Bucky snorts. “We can just do the one for today,” he says.

“Nope. My momma didn’t raise no quitter,” she says, sounding a lot more confident than she feels.

“All right,” Bucky says. “Are you ready or do you want a break?”

“I’m ready,” she says. If she takes a break, her courage will break.

Bucky stands next to the other side of the table, preparing like he had at first. He glances up at her face, looking at her for a long moment, before moving his gaze back to her nipple. She’s so happy it’s still hard because she would probably die if he had to...palpitate it or some shit back to hardness.

“Ready?” he asks. She nods. “Okay. One, two—" Deep breath. “Three.” Exhale. Pain.

“Christ on a cracker!”

Bucky makes a sound in his throat, and she realizes he’s trying not to laugh. She narrows her eyes at him, and he raises his hands in mock surrender before starting to clean the area around her nipple of any blood.

“It’s just one of the more interesting things people have said when I’ve pierced them,” he says.

“What’s it usually?” she asks.

“Lots of ‘god damn it,’” he says. “Occasionally someone calls me an asshole. One guy I pierced a prince Albert on wished me a year of the flu.”

“Well that’s a little extreme. He’s the one who asked to be stabbed in the dick,” she says.

Bucky snorts. “You’re not wrong,” he says. He turns back to his counter, organizing his supplies and oh yeah, she should probably put her shirt back on now. She snags it from where it’d been resting on the extra chair in the room and tries to tug it over her head, hissing a bit at the way it makes her breasts move, nipples stinging a bit. He turns around at her noise, concern on his face, before he realizes what the issue is. “Do you need...help?” he asks, unsure if he should.

“Nope, I totally got this,” she says, slowly pulling her t-shirt up one arm. Bucky’s gaze drops from her face, lands on the tattoo on her ribs that had been mostly covered by her arm when she was lying down. She grimaces. “I know it needs some serious work,” she says, finishing pulling the shirt over her arms and gingerly tugging all the way on. “The artist wasn’t great, and I haven’t found somebody who I trust enough to try to fix it.”

“I wasn’t trying to insult you,” he says quickly.

“You didn’t,” she says, waving his concern away. “I get it. It’s messy and faded.”

“If you want, I can take a look at it,” he offers a bit self-consciously, like he’s worried about offending her. “Or you can look at my portfolio, see if it matches the style of what you want.”

“Aren’t you booked out for like a year?” she asks.

Bucky just shrugs. “Something like that. I can write you down though and call if I have any cancellations,” he says.

“Got lots of names on your waiting list?”

“I don’t usually make one,” Bucky says. “It’d just be yours.”

Her heart beats a little faster at that. She doesn’t need to see his portfolio. She’d already browsed it last night when she was looking up the shop’s information, and his work is impressive. Easily her favorite of the four artists Avengers employs, though all of them are fantastic.

“Yeah,” she says, grinning. “That’d be great. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he says, corners of his lips tipped up into a smile. He hands her a pamphlet that says Aftercare at the top. “Email me whatever reference images you like, any preferences, all that. For the piercings, healing can take six to twelve months. No touching them with your fingers or anyone else’s, or mouths, until fully healed.” Not a problem. That’s one of the last places she wants an infection. “Salt water soak twice per day; instructions are in that pamphlet. Be careful with towels so they don’t snag. No baths, swimming, or hot tubs.”

“Aye aye, cap,” she says with a mock salute.

He rolls his eyes but smiles. “All right, smart ass,” he says, and she just grins.

Bucky leads her out of the piercing room back into the main shop area. She briefly wonders if anyone heard her yell when she was pierced, but she really doesn’t care. Let them try it and see how they fare. Bucky stands behind the computer at the front counter, ringing up her sale. When he gives her the total, she can’t help but notice the hefty discount on the jewelry he’d given her. From a lot of men, it’d feel sleezy, like they were doing it because they thought she was hot or that it would get them brownie points. But Bucky just seems like he’s doing it to be nice.

She tips like she would have for the real total, because people who don’t tip their tattoo artists and piercers are awful, and thanks him once more. She’s surprised at her hesitancy to leave, because despite the whole stabbing her in the tits thing, she’s really enjoyed his company. And looking at his gorgeous-ass face. He doesn’t seem eager to chase her out the door either, until the blond man from earlier calls his name and he startles a bit, giving her an apologetic look. She takes that as her cue.

“Thanks for everything,” she says. “I’ll shoot you an email later tonight.”

Bucky nods. “You’re welcome. I look forward to it.”

She can’t hide the small smile as she gingerly pulls on her coat, zipping it all the way up. She has the feeling that the cold air on her chest would fucking suck if she didn’t bundle up. It’s not cold enough to snow but it’s still pretty biting.

Her subway ride home is much longer than the one from NYU to the shop, and she’s very careful to avoid bumping into anyone because ouch. She makes it back to the two-bedroom apartment she shares with her friend Jane and her boyfriend, Thor, without major incident, though her poor nipples are aching from the constant pressure of her shirt and heavy coat. She sighs in relief when she can take it off, hanging it in the closet by the front door.

“How’d it go?” Jane calls from deeper in the apartment.

“Good!” Darcy calls back. “My tits have been pierced, and my piercer was hot as fuck!”

“Good!”

Darcy follows Jane’s voice and finds her in the living room with Thor, both of them with textbooks in their hands, though their hair is a bit messy, and there’s a mark on Jane’s neck that looks suspiciously like a hickey. Darcy raises an eyebrow at them, grinning at the way Jane flushes. Thor just grins.

“You’re both monsters. You have a bedroom!” Darcy says. “A nice one! With a big bed!”

Jane shrugs guiltily, and Darcy gets it, Thor is the first guy Jane’s dated that’s interested in her big ol’ science brain, and Thor looks at Jane like she hung the moon. Still. She eats on that couch.

“Did it hurt?” Thor asks, and Darcy knows he’s doing it to change the subject, but she always knows he genuinely cares too, the big Nordic teddy bear.

“Yeah,” Darcy says. “Like so, so bad. I think the only thing that hurt more was when I ran out of pain pills when I had my tonsils out.”

Jane winces. “That bad, huh?”

“Oh my god, yes. I seriously considered not getting the second one, it sucked so badly,” she says.

“Did you?” Jane asks, staring at her chest like she can somehow see through her shirt.

“No, I put on my big girl pants and got both.”

“Very proud of you.”

“On a more fun note, the cleaning instructions are to put saltwater in shot glasses and stick my nips in ’em,” Darcy says, grinning. “Enjoy that thought the next time we get tequila wasted.”

Later that night, after Darcy has finished what she can of her homework (math is so, so boring, sorry Jane), she emails Bucky at Avengers Tattoo. She takes a picture of the tattoo on her ribs, the faded owl’s head with the unfinished eyes. She attaches that along with a picture of the full owl she’d used as a reference photo and a few of her favorite space shots before sending off an email with the details of what she wanted (a full owl with space stuff in the eyes).

She doesn’t expect to hear back from him, at least not until he has an opening, but less than an hour later, her phone dings with a response to her email. It was great to meet you too. I like your idea and can get something sketched up in the next week or so. I’ll let you know when an opening comes up. Usually there’s at least a cancellation or two every month. Feel free to reach out if you have any piercing healing questions too. - Bucky

Well, baller.

Barely a week later, Darcy is in her physics class (which she’s only passing because of Jane) when her phone buzzes with a new email. She makes sure the professor is thoroughly engrossed with her blackboard before looking down at her phone. Her heart trips in excitement seeing it’s from Bucky. She opens the attachment and lets out a soft “Oh” under her breath. It’s the sketch he said he’d work on, but sketch doesn’t really seem like the right word at all. It’s in full, breathtaking color, with swirling galaxies in the owl’s big eyes.

She glances up to make sure her professor is still engrossed with her blackboard before emailing him back. That is perfect! I absolutely love it. Can’t wait to start! She knows that’s a lot of exclamation points, but what can she say? She’s stoked. She slips her phone back into her bag and devotes herself to paying attention to the rest of the lecture, despite the fact that she understands about 25% of what’s going on. Look, hard sciences have never been her thing, all right?

When she gets back to her apartment after class, Thor and Jane are in the living room again, this time actually studying. Darcy shoves her phone under their noses, showing the art Bucky sent.

“Look! Look at the owl!” she says. “Look at how much better it’s going to look!”

“That’s gorgeous,” Jane says, taking the phone and zooming in on the eyes. “That’s actually the Andromeda Galaxy. And that’s the Triangulum Galaxy in the other. Great research on his part, I approve.”

“Well thank god for that,” Darcy teases as Jane hands Thor the phone.

“That’s going to look very lovely on you,” Thor says, smiling as he hands her phone back to her. He really is just human sunshine.

“Okay, phone away,” Jane says decisively, closing her book. “Time for your physics homework.”

Darcy groans. “Fiiiine.”

Chapter Text

Darcy works part-time at the campus bookstore and she...half likes it. She likes the bookstore and doesn’t mind most patrons, even if they can’t seem to read the signs on each shelf saying what books are for what classes. What she can’t stand are the freshmen lookie-loos that come in and just block the aisles and peruse. During a usual time of the year, sure, whatever, but it’s around the deadline to drop classes, so people are coming in to try to sell back their books while the people who take their spots are trying to buy theirs. It’s too busy for people to be sitting on the ground in the middle of the aisles.

Darcy nearly runs for the back room as soon as her boss tells her to take her break. She passess her coworker Henry on his way back from his break, and they sort of grimace in sympathy at each other. Darcy collapses into a chair at the breakroom table and digs out her phone, ready to text Jane that after today, she definitely deserves dumplings from that place around the corner from their apartment. She has a couple texts waiting for her, one from Jane saying she and Thor need dumplings from around the corner, one from her dad with a link to an article about sea algae, and an email from Avengers Tattoo.

She opens the Avengers Tattoo one first because god, she needs some good news. She’s crossing her fingers for a cancellation. The email is from Steve, who she thinks was the blond at the counter when she went in, saying Bucky has a cancellation Friday and asking if she wants it.

“Oh my god, yes,” Darcy mutters under her breath.

She emails back quickly that yes, please, she can’t wait. Then she hears a loud thunk and the sound of falling books. She lets her head hit the tabletop. Christ.

By the end of the shift, she and Henry have managed a temporary fix for the broken shelf that makes their engineering major coworker back away slowly. Darcy doesn’t care; she’s off for the next three days. Let their lazy manager who refuses to use his budget figure it out.

As a general rule, Darcy doesn’t believe in full days of homework. That shit should be spread out so one day isn’t just completely ruined. She ignores that rule and crams everything she can into Thursday because she knows she is not going to want to do homework after getting her tattoo worked on. Jane doesn’t have class Thursdays so she’s happy to help Darcy with her physics homework until she hits a brainwave and jumps up to scribble down her own ideas. Fair. Jane’s probably going to redefine her entire field someday, so Darcy gets it.

Friday morning, after struggling to make it through her 8:00 a.m. class, Darcy is finally on the subway on the way to Avengers Tattoo. She’s listening to her favorite ‘Good Mood, Bitch!’ playlist and sends a very effective glare to the creep that was eyeing the seat next to her. One of her crowning achievements over the last two years has been developing a leave-me-the-fuck-alone look that has been very helpful for the garden variety asshole.

She makes it to the stop for Avengers Tattoo studio with about ten minutes to spare. She steps through the shop doors and this time there’s a woman with short red hair at the desk. She looks up when Darcy comes in and smiles. There’s something a bit mischievous in the look that Darcy isn’t sure what to do with.

“You must be Darcy,” she says. “Bucky’s 10:30?”

“Yep, that’s me,” Darcy says, unwinding her scarf from her neck.

The redhead comes out from behind the desk, and holds her hand out. “Can I hang up your coat?” she asks.

“Uh, sure, thanks,” Darcy says, shrugging out of the coat and handing it and the scarf to her.

“He’s just finishing up,” the redhead says. “Should be a couple minutes.”

“Okay, thanks,” Darcy says.

“Sure,” the redhead says, taking Darcy’s coat and scarf around the corner to a closet.

Darcy takes a seat on the wooden bench against the wall, dropping her heavy book bag at her feet. The last thing she wants to do tomorrow is work on her project, but she’s kind of running out of time before midterms. She’s been trying to understand enough of her physics class to just pass that she has been...sort of neglecting her other two classes.

She’s so caught up in trying to plan her project in her head that she doesn’t notice Bucky’s coming her way until he steps into her line of sight. She blinks and looks up at his face, his expression amused.

“All right in there?” he asks, smiling.

“Yeah, sorry,” Darcy says, shaking her head a bit. “I was inside a political science syllabus.”

“Better you than me,” Bucky says with a mock grimace. “Ready to come on back?”

“Yep,” Darcy says, grabbing her bag and standing. She follows Bucky back to his station. He closes the curtain behind her and takes her bag, hanging it on a hook by the entrance.

“Not to sound like a weirdo, but how are your nipples?” Bucky asks as he sits on his stool, making her snort.

“Not to sound like a weirdo, but my nipples are great!” she says, drawing a bark of a laugh from Bucky. “No healing issues, and wearing a bra no longer makes me want to die. So, A+.” It’s been a little over three months since he’d pierced her.

Bucky grins, shaking his head. “All right, were there any color adjustments you wanted to make, or is the piece I sent you all right?” he asks.

“It’s perfect,” Darcy says.

“Okay, take a seat, and I’ll get everything together.”

Bucky works quickly, pulling out bottles of ink and filling the little disposable cups on his station. He pulls up the drawing he sent her on his tablet, propping it up for him to see. When he’s finished arranging the cart next to the table, he turns back to her.

“Can I see the area?” he asks.

“Sure,” Darcy says, tugging up the hem of her shirt. “That’s probably the nicest way anyone’s ever asked me to lift my shirt up.”

Bucky laughs again, though there’s a light blush on his cheeks. He stares at the owl head on her side, humming a bit under his breath before standing straight again.

“Okay,” he says. “We’re going to do line work today. Cleaning up the outline, the details on the feathers, adding the outline of the body, and starting on the eyes. We’ll do some shading and color next session when that’s healed. Hop on up, lie on your side.”

Not her best angle, but she does as he asks, settling onto her side on the long padded table. Bucky pulls his stool and cart over, sliding up right next to her front, adjusting until he’s happy with how he’s situated. She holds her shirt up, right under her bra while Bucky tapes it into place so it doesn’t slide down while he’s working.

“All right, you ready?” he asks, looking up at her face.

“Yep,” she says, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly.

“Let me know if you need a break,” he says.

“Okay,” she says again, a familiar little swoop in her stomach. She takes a deep breath as he starts his machine. She also has a tattoo on her thigh, but the one on the ribs was so much worse. She’d read it’s because it’s right over the bone, but whatever the reason, it sucked much worse than the thigh.

“Slow breaths if you can,” Bucky says, one hand coming to rest on her side, right under the tattoo, keeping the skin from moving. “I know that’s hard. We just want there to be as little movement in the area as possible.”

“Okay,” Darcy says. “Yeah, moving while under a tattoo needle sounds bad.”

“You’ll do great,” Bucky says. “I stabbed you in the nipples and you didn’t flinch then.”

Darcy snorts. “Okay, stop being funny, I shouldn’t laugh,” she says.

“Yes ma’am,” he says seriously. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

The first touch of the needle is a surprise as usual. She’s expecting it so she doesn’t flinch and is very gratified when Bucky murmurs “Perfect”. She tries to focus on the background noise of Fleetwood Mac to distract her while she gets used to the pain, but it’s hard to hear clearly over the tattoo machine. She’ll be fine in a minute when her body acclimates, it’ll just take a few moments to get there.

“I’m working on cleaning up the outline first,” Bucky says, and she latches onto the rumble of his voice which is a much better distraction than Fleetwood Mac. “There are a few places where the lines are fading or don’t meet each other.”

“Sounds good,” she says, speaking as carefully as possible. “Wow, talking without moving ribs is hard.”

Bucky laughs softly. “You’re not trying to talk while getting the inside of your lip tattooed, so you’re already better than my first client today,” he says.

“What now?” Darcy asks incredulously.

“Yeah. He wanted ‘PARTY BOY’ tattooed on the inside of his lower lip, so he could tug it down to show off while getting trashed,” Bucky says.

“...Wow,” Darcy says. “Not often I’m at a loss for words.”

“I managed to not laugh in his face, so I consider it a success,” he says. Darcy grins, trying not to laugh.

“And he was trying to talk?”

“Oh yeah,” Bucky says. “A nervous talker, I think.”

“Hard same,” Darcy says. “But I’m also an excited talker. And a happy talker. And tired talker. And grumpy, pissed, and irritated. I’m just a talker. Sorry buddy, that’s just who I am.”

Bucky smiles again, glancing up at her while he dips the needle of his tattoo machine into the black ink on the tray next to him.

“I’ll survive,” he says wryly. “You’re much better company and don’t talk about puking into the neighbor’s bushes.”

Darcy laughs, then makes a face when he drags a paper towel over the tattoo, cleaning the area off. “I’m glad I rate above drunk frat boys,” Darcy says.

“Much higher,” Bucky says. “I made a note in the shop's schedule that I won’t take him as a client again. Let Steve, Sam, or Natasha handle him. Well, not Steve. He’s way too nice.” Bucky makes sure she sees him bringing the tattoo machine down to start again now.

“Steve was the blond one right?” Darcy asks.

“Yeah, that’s him,” Bucky says, grinning. “Little punk used to be five foot four and skinnier than a flag pole.”

“Tall Steve with those broad-ass shoulders?” Darcy asks.

“Yep. He hit a weird growth spurt when we were in high school,” he says. “Started getting a lot of ‘draw me like your French girls’ requests.”

Bucky lifts the tattoo gun from her skin a second before she laughs, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she says. “He’s just...he looks so earnest. I can only picture him turning bright red and running away.”

Bucky laughs. “At first,” he says, bringing the needle back to her side. “Once he got older he realized it’s a great way to ‘bond’ with a girlfriend.”

Darcy grins. “And I’m sure you’ve never done anything like that before,” she teases.

“Oh never,” Bucky says, but he’s grinning. “My mother raised a good Catholic boy.”

“Uh huh,” Darcy says. “Mine tried that, but it didn’t stick.”

“Same here,” Bucky admits. Darcy grimaces as he goes over a particularly sensitive area. Bucky winces in sympathy “Sorry, I know that spot sucks.”

“All good,” Darcy says through gritted teeth. “I’m probably gonna shut up though.”

“Whatever you need,” he says. “Do you want a break?”

“Nope. Powering through.”

Bucky smiles slightly. “All right.”

Silence falls as he works, Darcy biting her cheek to keep from twitching. She doesn’t mind the quiet; it doesn’t feel awkward with him like it does with some. Her last artist, who really butchered the owl, worked with headphones in the whole time. Valid way to work, but as a client it didn’t work for her. She appreciates Bucky’s stories and easy laughter. It’s honestly lucky that tattooing hurts. It helps distract her from just staring like a weirdo at his stupidly pretty face.

“All right, outline is done,” Bucky says after a while has passed, turning off the machine and setting it aside. He wipes down the tattoo again, and she manages not to wince this time. “We’re going to take a little break before starting on the eyes.”

Bucky pushes the cart to the side then offers Darcy his hand, tugging her up into a sitting position.

“Whoa, headrush,” she says, swaying a bit.

“Do you need to eat?” Bucky asks, looking concerned.

“No, I ate,” Darcy says. “I’m just like that.”

Bucky nods, though he still eyes her a bit. He goes to his desk, leaning over to open a minifridge underneath that Darcy hadn’t noticed. He pulls out an orange Gatorade and passes it to her.

“Drink some of that. Get your electrolytes up,” he says.

“Sir, yes sir,” she says, opening the bottle. She doesn’t miss how his eyes darken at that, and she forces herself to take a drink to avoid saying something wildly inappropriate. “Thanks.”

Bucky’s still looking at her and looks like he’s about to say something when there’s a knock against the frame outside Bucky’s station.

“Buck?” a voice calls.

“Yeah Steve?” Bucky says, glancing to the closed curtain.

“Can we borrow you for a second? Sam’s machine is acting up,” he says.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Sure, one sec,” he says, turning back to Darcy. “Last time he didn’t have it plugged in,” he tells her. She laughs, nearly choking on her sip of Gatorade. He points to the bottle, saying, “Finish that if you can, and take a look in the mirror, see if you like it.I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

She salutes him with the bottle. “Enjoy mocking Sam,” she says.

“Oh I will.” Bucky steps out, making sure the curtain is closed behind him, which she appreciates.

Darcy downs the rest of the bottle, gingerly sliding off the table. She walks over to the full length mirror Bucky has against the wall, gasping when she sees the owl. It looks incredible, so much better than before. Some of the lines from her previous artist are still a little thick and blown, something he couldn’t really fix, but he’d warned her about that and said they may need to do a shaded background to hide them. Thick lines included, it’s still more gorgeous than it’s ever looked, even when it was fresh. She’s so glad she waited for Bucky instead of going to one of the other artists she’d looked up.

There’s a soft knock again, then Bucky’s voice comes through the curtain. “Just me,” he says, sliding past the curtain. He sees her at the mirror and smiles. “You like it?”

“I literally gasped seeing it,” Darcy says, making his smile widen. “It’s gorgeous. The feathers look so real.”

“They’ll be better when we get some shading and color on it,” Bucky says. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I’m so glad you had a cancellation,” Darcy says. “I looked at other artists in the area and was not thrilled.”

Bucky looks immensely pleased at that, as well he should. “Ready to get started again?”

“Yeah,” Darcy says, climbing back onto the table. “You fix Sam’s machine?”

“It wasn’t plugged in,” Bucky says, looking exasperated.

“Again?!” Darcy asks.

“It wasn’t plugged into the wall last time,” Bucky says, sitting on the stool and pulling on a fresh pair of gloves. “This time it was loose where it connects to the machine.” Darcy laughs. “I will be holding that over his head for years.”

“I’ll be sure to tease him if I meet him,” Darcy says.

“God, please do,” Bucky says. "Okay, I'm going to do a vague outline of the galaxies for the eyes. It's gonna look a little weird since we aren't doing color right now, but it'll make sense in the end."

"Okay, I trust you," Darcy says, settling onto her side.

Bucky smiles down at her. "Thank you," he says.

"My roommate's working on her astrophysics PhD and wanted to be sure I told you she approves of the galaxy work," Darcy says as he turns the machine back on, settling his hand on her side again.

"Yeah?" Bucky says, face lighting up. "Good. I saved a lot of reference pictures."

"Your commitment to accuracy has greatly impressed my very tiny scientist," Darcy says.

Bucky shakes his head, grinning. "Your tiny scientist, huh? Are you two together?" he asks.

"Oh no. She has a giant Scandanavian boyfriend, and I don't share," she says, then pauses. "We're also not romantically interested in each other. I don't know why I didn't lead with that."

Bucky laughs. "You don't have to explain, I get it. Steve and I get the same question all the time," he says.

"So I'm guessing you and Steve aren't together then," she says, then mock whispers, "Are you secretly with Sam?"

Bucky shakes his head. "God no. We'd piss each other off in the first ten minutes," he says. He doesn't seem at all offended by the suggestion that he'd date a man, which raises him even higher in Darcy's (admittedly biased) book.

They chat a bit, but Bucky goes quiet after a while, concentrating on his work. Darcy's fine with the silence, staring off at the framed art on the walls. There are a few different paintings of animals, some sketches she can't quite make out from this far away, a very tasteful pinup, and a naked tattooed woman covered by a sheer blue sheet. Darcy's a big fan of naked women, so she's hardly complaining. She manages to stop herself from asking him to draw her like one of Steve's French girls, and that's a win.

"Almost done. Maybe ten, fifteen minutes," Bucky says, breaking her out of that thought. "Still doing all right?"

"I'm hanging in," Darcy says. "Been staring at your art."

Bucky glances up at the wall. "I need to change them out soon. I like to rotate through stuff so I don't get bored of any of it," he says.

"Smart. I try to do that with music, but I'm bad at it and end up binge listening to an album for months at a time until I'm sick of it," Darcy says.

"I'm guilty of that too," Bucky says. He goes silent again for a while longer before turning off the machine and setting it aside. "All right, just some clean up and we'll be good."

Bucky offers her a hand, helping her sit up gingerly.

"Thanks," she says.

"You're welcome. Stand up and I'll clean it off and wrap it up," he says.

She does as he says, trying not to jerk at the touch of the cold soap, but by the twitch of Bucky's lips she's guessing she didn't succeed.

He has her look in the mirror after he cleans and dries the tattoo to make sure she's happy with his progress.

"My dude, you're worth every penny," Darcy says, staring at the owl. "This is already better than I'd even imagined."

She glances up to meet Bucky's eyes in the mirror. His smile gets even bigger when he notices her looking.

"Thank you," he says, looking both pleased and a bit sheepish.

"I'm serious. No one else is touching my skin ever again," she says.

Bucky smiles, but the look in his eyes is intense. He clears his throat. "Speaking of, no touching unless you're washing it or applying lotion," he says, turning to grab the cling wrap from the counter. "That goes for other people touching too."

"No touching nips or tattoo, got it," she says.

Bucky smiles, shaking his head. "Not yet at least. Let them both heal up first," he says. He carefully applies the cling wrap, taping it in place. "Leave that on for a couple hours, then wash it with unscented antibacterial soap. Wait until it's dry completely, then apply a thin layer of Aquaphor. Do that twice a day. Full instructions are in the pamphlet."

"Okay, thanks," Darcy says, taking the paperwork from him. He removes the tape from her shirt, letting it fall back down.

"Let's head up front and schedule the next session," Bucky says, pulling back the curtain for her.

They walk back to the front desk, which is now vacant. He sits behind the computer and gives her her total, which she thinks is way lower than it should be. She tips extra heavy.

"All right, looks like the next opening I have is in three months," he says, sounding a bit apologetic.

"That's late May?" Darcy says, pulling up her phone calendar.

"Yeah, I have a May 23rd or a May 25th," he says.

"23rd is best for me," she says.

"It's all yours," he says. "Did Natasha take your coat?”

“Yeah, it’s the black leather with the plaid lining,” she says.

Bucky nods and disappears around the corner to the closet, coming back a moment later with her jacket and scarf. She’s not expecting him to hold it for her to slip into, which feels very gentlemanly of him. He touches her shoulders briefly before walking around to face her.

“Email me or call the shop if you have any questions or if you think anything is healing weird, okay?” he says.

“Sure thing,” she says. “And thanks again. I really enjoy being stabbed by you.”

Bucky’s grin is just so fucking sunshiney that she can’t help but smile right back.

“Well, I really enjoyed stabbing you. See you in May,” he says.

“See you,” she says with a small wave, immediately wanting to kick herself in the shin. Thankfully she’ll have a long subway ride home to think about being awkward and her brand new crush on her hot tattoo artist.

Her train isn’t super crowded on the way home, so luckily people aren’t bumping into her fresh tattoo. She stops for burritos on the way home because body mods make her hungry as hell, and she knows Jane probably is in a homework spiral and has forgotten to eat. She shoves her key in the lock extra loudly, just in case Jane and Thor are banging in the living room again, before opening the front door.

“I have a crush on my tattoo artist,” Darcy announces dramatically, closing the door behind her.

“Yeah?” Jane calls from the living room.

Darcy drops her stuff by the door before walking into the living room, burritos in hand. “Yes! He’s cute, he’s funny, he’s sweet. He looked thrilled that you approved of his galaxy designs,” Darcy says. Jane’s sitting criss-cross on the couch, three books open on the coffee table in front of her. “Burrito,” Darcy says, tossing it at her. Jane can always be counted on for quick reflexes when burritos are involved.

“God, thank you,” Jane says, opening the wrapper. She takes a big bite before saying, with her mouth very full, “He was? Good!”

“Yep, he was very happy,” Darcy says, dropping onto the couch next to Jane and unwrapping her own burrito. “That’s not why I have a crush on him, but it doesn’t hurt.”

“Lemme see his picture?” Jane asks.

“It’s not like I just have pictures of him like a creep,” Darcy says, though she’d definitely considered trying to sneak one. She pulls up Avengers Tattoo’s Instagram page, scrolling through until she sees a team picture. She passes the phone over to Jane. “He’s the one with the long hair.”

Jane whistles. “All right, yeah, super cute,” she says. “I can see why your brain and bits are all about him.”

“You leave my bits out of this,” Darcy says, though she’s not serious. “But yessss, I want to climb him like a tree.”

“He looks strong, so you probably could,” Jane says. “I mean, Thor can handle it.”

“I know,” Darcy says. “I’ve seen what you two did against that wall, missy.” She points at the living room wall next to the TV. “There was a Jane buttprint for weeks.”

Jane just shrugs, not embarrassed at all. “And I’d do it again,” she says.

“You did do it again! In the shower!” Darcy says. “That’s why we had to take you to the ER!”

“Oh, yeah,” Jane says. “Stitches suck.”

“Sure do.”

Chapter Text

Darcy manages a C+ on her physics midterm, which is much better than she’d been expecting, and all As and Bs for the rest of her classes. The problem with that is that the other side of midterms makes finals look much closer. Her professors start packing the homework on heavily enough that she and Jane take to studying in the campus library until it closes at 9:30 p.m., then sometimes going to a nearby twenty-four-hour diner if they’re still really behind. Thor joins them when he can, but his track and field scholarship depends on him actually going to meets, so he isn’t around as much during the season.

Jane has a late night study session with her project group one night, so when Darcy finishes, she goes to the diner alone. She’s done studying for the night, but she hasn’t eaten since breakfast, and she’s going to kill someone unless she gets some food ASAP. Dorothy, the usual night waitress, smiles at her from behind the counter when she walks in.

“Go find a seat, honey. I’ll be right there,” Dorothy says.

“You’re my hero, Dorothy,” Darcy says, walking deeper into the diner.

It’s not overly busy, but she’d prefer not to be near other tables in case they decide to try to talk to her. She’s heading toward the back when she spots a few familiar faces near her and Jane’s normal booth. Steve and Natasha are just getting out of the booth, pulling on their coats, but Bucky is still sitting, working on a big BLT. Natasha seems to notice her first, sending a smile her way and saying something to Bucky. He looks up, a bright smile on his face when he sees her, and god does that do things to her.

“Hey,” he says, standing when she gets close. “Steve, Natasha, I assume you remember Darcy.”

“Nice to see you again,” Steve says politely.

“Hello,” Natasha says. “Steve and I are just leaving, but Bucky’s hanging around if you don’t feel like sitting alone.”

“Oh, I don’t want to intrude,” Darcy says.

“You won’t be,” Bucky says. “You’re welcome to join me, unless you’d rather be alone?”

Five minutes ago she’d rather be alone, but right now you couldn’t pry her away from this booth with a crowbar.

“Okay,” Darcy says with a grin, dropping her heavy bookbag onto the seat, pushing it into the wall and sliding in after. Bucky takes his seat across from her again, and the fact that he looks genuinely happy she’s here makes her chest do funny things.

“See you tomorrow, Buck,” Steve says, clapping him on the shoulder before turning to go. Natasha waves and sends a wink Darcy’s way before following Steve out.

“Sorry for the mess,” Bucky says, pushing the neat stack of Steve and Natasha’s dishes toward the end of the table. One of them must have worked as a server.

“Not a mess at all,” Darcy says. “You should see our coffee table right now. Actually, you shouldn’t, it’s just embarrassing at this point.”

“Yeah?”

“Finals are coming up, and Jane’s working on her thesis, so it’s just piles of books and random papers and energy drink cans,” Darcy says quickly, then pauses. “I may have had too many Red Bulls today.”

Bucky snorts. “Let’s get food in you then,” he says.

Like magic, Dorothy is at their table a moment later with a glass of water and a menu. “Here you are,” she says. “Now, do you need this menu, or are we doing your usual?”

“My usual please,” Darcy says. “Can I add extra bacon?”

Dorothy’s expression goes soft. “Oh honey, rough day?” she says.

“We’re getting close to finals,” Darcy says.

“Oh dear,” Dorothy says. “You may absolutely add extra bacon.” She turns to Bucky. “You still doing okay, hun? Need a refill?”

“No, I’m all right. Thanks,” Bucky says.

“Okay, I’ll be back,” Dorothy says, walking off to deliver her order to the kitchen, taking the stack of dishes with her.

“So you’re a Roxy’s Diner regular, huh?” Bucky asks.

“Yeah, Jane, Thor, and I come a lot,” Darcy says, taking a drink of her water. “A lot more often recently, though. The library closes at 9:30 so we come here sometimes if we have a lot of work left to do. Nothing like physics and french toast. You?”

“Yeah, mostly earlier in the day, though. It’s about halfway between Steve and my apartment and Natasha’s building, so we try to eat here at least once a week. You know, spend some time with each other that isn’t work-related.”

“No Sam, though?” Darcy asks. “Is he banned for tattoo machine-related failures?”

Bucky laughs. “No, he comes when he can. He spends a lot of his free time with his sister and her kids, so he’s not here as often,” Bucky says.

“Oh man, does she have to tell them they can’t ask for tattoos?” Darcy says. “My mom had to pull me away from a shop when I was like ten years old because I demanded a unicorn tattoo.”

Bucky throws his head back when he laughs at that, loudly enough that Dorothy looks over from the counter with a knowing look on her face. Darcy makes a face at her, making Dorothy laugh.

“Do you still want a unicorn tattoo?” Bucky asks. The corners of his eyes are still crinkled with mirth, and Darcy has to smother the urge to touch.

“I mean, yeah, kinda,” she says. “Not one that looks like My Little Pony anymore though.”

Bucky laughs again. “You would be surprised at how many My Little Pony tattoos we do,” he says.

“Yeah? What’s the most common thing you get asked for?” she asks.

Bucky hums as if thinking about it, tapping his finger against his plate. “A few years ago, it was a lot of song lyrics,” he says. “Lately it’s been a lot of skulls and nature stuff. I actually like that, so no complaints. Steve hates the song lyrics though.”

Dorothy comes back then, putting a plate of french toast with extra bacon in front of Darcy.

“You’re my absolute favorite,” Darcy says.

“Do you just say that to anyone that feeds you?” Dorothy asks.

“Not exclusively, but it helps,” Darcy says, pouring the syrup all over her plate.

“You have your marching orders, young man,” Dorothy says to Bucky with a wink, making him cough on his bite of BLT. Dorothy laughs before looking back at Darcy. “Seriously though honey, don’t spread yourself too thin.”

“I’ll be taking less classes summer quarter,” she promises.

“Good,” Dorothy says. “Holler if you need anything.”

“So you are undisputedly Dorothy’s favorite,” Bucky says after he swallows.

“She loves Jane and Thor too,” Darcy says, then grins. “But yes, I am.”

They chat as they eat, though conversation is slower because Bucky insists that she eats. It’s adorable, honestly. He finishes first since he only had half a sandwich and talks to her while she eats, which she really appreciates since it’s so awkward to be the only one eating while the other person just sits there silently.

“Did you always want to be an artist?” Darcy asks between bites.

Bucky looks thoughtful at that. “I think so, though I tried not to for a while,” He says. “You know how some people are about the arts.”

Darcy thinks about her parents and winces. “Yeah, unfortunately,” she says.

“My uncle was pretty vocal about how it’s not manly for a boy to like drawing and painting,” Bucky says, rolling his eyes. “My mom told him to stuff it.”

Darcy grins. “Good for your mom!” she says.

“Yeah, she’s great. She and my sister, Becca, have always been really supportive,” he says. “I kept skipping my classes at the community college to sneak into Steve’s classes at art school. Eventually his instructor just threw an application at me and said to just get on with it.”

Darcy laughs. “Did you?” she asks.

“Yeah. He gave me scholarship information too ,so that helped,” he says. “I started drawing and painting more and somehow stumbled into a tattooing apprenticeship and never looked back.”

“And here you are, one of the most sought-after artists in the area,” she says.

Bucky actually blushes a little at that. “We bought the shop when the old owner retired, so we get to run it how we want,” he says. “It’s been working out for us.”

“Do all four of you own it together?” she asks.

“Yeah,” Bucky says. “Which is why I feel free to harass Sam as often as possible.”

Darcy laughs. “Very gentlemanly of you to not harass an employee,” she says.

“I try,” he says with a wry grin. “What about you? You said you’re majoring in political science?”

“Mmhmm,” Darcy says, swallowing her last bit of bacon. “Poli sci major, sociology minor. My parents are less than thrilled.”

Bucky cocks his head to the side. “Why?”

“Because it’s not something respectable, like my dad’s medical degree, or my brother’s business degree, or my mom’s architecture degree,” she says. “They’re helping me with housing costs, but they aren’t happy about it.”

Bucky’s face slowly morphs into a frown as she speaks, his brows furrowed together when she finishes. “How is political science unrespectable?” he asks.

“They think politics is crude,” she says with an eye roll. “Like most people who the status quo benefits, they don’t believe anything needs to change.”

“But they should still be supportive of their daughter,” Bucky says.

Darcy smiles and knows it comes off a little sad. “Jane and Thor say the same thing,” she says. “But I have them. Thor’s basically a giant golden retriever of a man. And even though Jane’s in the hard sciences she’s still very supportive. She slapped my brother once when he was visiting and made a snide comment.”

“Good,” Bucky says. “I’m glad you’ve found your people.”

Darcy smiles, and this time it’s bright. “Yeah, me too. They’re good ones.”

Dorothy stops by then to take their dishes away and bring their checks, telling them, “This isn’t me rushing you out. You kids stay as long as you’d like.”

“Thank you,” Bucky says.

“Thanks,” Darcy says. “Love you, Dorothy.”

“Oh I love you too, honey,” Dorothy says.

Bucky’s grinning when Darcy turns back to him. “What?” she asks.

“It’s just fun to see the difference between Dorothy the sweet diner lady who loves you and Dorothy the lady who two hours ago kneed a drunk in the ass until he left,” Bucky says.

Darcy cackles. “I love Dorothy so much,” she says. “I want to be her when I grow up.”

Bucky laughs, rubbing at the stubble along his jaw. Darcy has the most intense urge to lean over and bite, and she really hopes her poker face is working because usually it is not. He pushes the long sleeves of his henley up his forearms, showing off a tattoo of a three-eyed cat walking in front of a full moon on the right arm and the dark metallic prosthetic on his left. She pulls her eyes from the tattoo, trying not to stare like a weirdo.

“So why the late night if you guys are usually here during the day?” Darcy asks.

Bucky scrunches up his nose, which is adorable. “We promised Natasha we’d go with her to see her friend’s weird performance art thing,” he says.

Darcy grins. “Not a fan?”

“Not of this one,” he says. “She just walked around in a circle for an hour, occasionally running at someone and stopping a foot away before just walking again.”

“What in the french fried fuck?” Darcy asks. Bucky barks out a laugh. “Okay, yeah, not my type of performance art either.”

“Natasha does ballet, so we just assumed it was something related to that,” Bucky says. “Egg all over our faces.”

They stay for another hour, just chatting. Bucky tells her about his sister, Becca, getting a scholarship to Stanford and how he’s going to miss the hell out of her. She tells him about Thor being so pretty that he mesmerized an opponent at a track meet, making the poor guy trip over a hurdle. He tells her about his ex who just up and moved to Florida without telling him. She tells him about her snobby ex who thought tattoos and piercings were a sign of ‘moral decay.’ He tells her about his long held desire to go to Ireland, where his mother’s family is from. She tells him she wanted to go to Paris as a kid after she saw Anastasia, and admits she never really grew out of that.

Darcy’s enjoying herself. Immensely. Her stupid crush on her hot tattoo artist has turned into a completely reasonable crush on her sweet, kind, and adorable (okay, and hot) tattoo artist. But after her third yawn in as many minutes, she has to admit defeat.

“Okay, as much as I hate to say it, I should head home before I fall asleep on this table,” Darcy says.

Bucky laughs. “Yeah, same. Though for the record, Dorothy would probably just put a blanket over you and a Do Not Disturb sign,” he says.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” she says.

Bucky takes his check and reaches across the table for hers, but she snatches it up before he even gets close, sticking her tongue out in victory. Bucky’s eyebrows fly up.

“You have very fast reflexes,” he says.

“Thank you,” Darcy says. “You have to if you live with Jane. I can’t count how many times that woman has dropped plates or glasses.”

Darcy opens her bag to pull out her wallet, and while she’s distracted, Bucky plucks the check right from her hand and slides out of the booth. He’s already handing over his card to Dorothy for their bills before Darcy even realizes what happened.

“You sneak!” she calls.

Bucky just grins and salutes her with the pen he’s signing the receipt with. Darcy rolls her eyes as she puts her wallet back in her bag, though she’s biting her lip to keep from smiling. Bucky’s back a moment later, picking up his deep blue jacket from the booth and pulling it on.

“Can I at least tip?” Darcy asks.

“Too late,” he says cheerily. “Already did.”

Darcy slaps a ten dollar bill down on the table anyway before pulling on her own jacket and slinging her bag over her shoulder.

“Thank you for dinner,” she says once she’s done glaring at him.

“You’re welcome,” he says, still looking pleased with himself.

They wave at Dorothy as they leave, Dorothy winking at Darcy as soon as Bucky turns away. Darcy blushes and sticks her tongue out, making Dorothy cackle.

It’s colder outside than she was expecting, making her zip her jacket all the way up. Bucky stuffs his hands into his jacket pocket, lingering by the door as if he also doesn’t want to go quite yet.

“You walking?” Bucky asks.

“Yeah, I’m not far,” Darcy says.

“Let me walk you?” he asks.

“It’s like ten blocks north,” she warns, though she’s itching to say yes. “Is that far out of your way?

“Nope,” Bucky says. “Lead on.”

Bucky falls into step beside her easily, and she appreciates him shortening his long strides for her short legs. Thor takes big ol’ steps, and Jane is always moving at a half run, so it’s nice to walk without trying to chase someone.

“Thanks,” Darcy says as they walk, sidestepping a group of tourists just standing on the sidewalk, blocking the way. “I have my taser, but I’m not at all against someone like you walking me home.”

“Someone like me?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. He doesn’t look offended though, to her relief.

“You have the vibe of someone to not fuck with,” Darcy says. “And I’m so envious. Because you’re also like a sweet angel, and I don’t know why I said that, I meant you’re very nice and seem like someone who can hold their own. Jesus, make me stop talking.”

Bucky just laughs softly, bumping his shoulder against hers. “I’ll happily take both of those descriptions,” he says. “You know, tasers are illegal in New York.”

“Yep,” Darcy says. “But I figure if it saves me from being kidnapped or murdered, I’ll deal with the consequences.”

“Fair,” Bucky says. “It’s a bullshit law anyway.”

“It so is. A cop took my self defense cat keychain thing away last month when Jane and I got stopped,” Darcy says. “Assholes. God forbid a woman defend herself. ‘Well you could get a gun permit.’ I don’t want a gun permit!”

“A cop told you to get a gun?” Bucky says, eyebrows raised.

“Yep. Plastic cat is unacceptable, but go get a gun, that’s chill” she says. She takes a deep breath, willing herself to relax. When she gets worked up, she can go on for hours, and she’d rather enjoy her walk with Bucky than shout about the NYPD. “I’m good, I’m chill,” she says, making Bucky grin.

After a minute or so of comfortable silence, Bucky asks, “Why did you and Jane get stopped?”

“Ugh,” Darcy groans, making Bucky chuckle. “We ‘looked suspicious.’ We were carrying like four boxes of crap for the lab Jane’s working in on campus, and apparently her weird telescope sticking out of a box looked like a weapon? I don’t fucking know, dude. It would have been so much better if Thor were there.”

“Does he somehow look even less threatening than you?” Bucky teases.

“Ha ha,” Darcy says dryly. “Actually he’s like six and a half feet tall and fucking jacked. Most people give us a wide berth. They don’t know he’s actually just like a big ball of sunshine. It’s so handy.”

“He sounds a bit like Steve,” Bucky says. “Huge guy, totally a marshmallow.” Darcy laughs. “It’s Natasha you gotta watch out for.”

Darcy thinks about that for a second before nodding in agreement. “Yep, I would never want to be on her bad side,” she says.

“God no,” Bucky says. “Steve once accidentally broke something of hers and went on a spontaneous trip to Canada to avoid her.”

Darcy bursts out laughing, picturing giant-ass Steve just bolting from the shop.

“How long did he hide out in Canada?” Darcy asks.

“A week,” Bucky says, grinning. “Natasha wasn’t even mad. She thought it was hilarious.”

Darcy shakes her head, smiling. “So she’s scary and a troll?”

“Oh absolutely.”

The walk to her building goes so much quicker than she’d like, and before she knows it they’re on her block. Just a few seconds more until they’re standing in front of the stairs to her building.

“Thanks again for the french toast,” Darcy says. “And walking me back.”

“You’re welcome,” he says. “I’m glad you joined me.”

“Me too,” she says.

They’re standing close, and it’s so tempting to push the client-artist boundaries just a bit further. A hug is okay, right? That’s not inappropriate, especially with the soft way he’s looking at her, and how he’s leaning closer...

“Darcy Lewis!”

Bucky and Darcy jump at the shout. Darcy knows that voice. She looks up to see Jane sticking her head out of their living room window.

“What?” Darcy yells back.

“You were supposed to be home two hours ago!”

“I got an escort!” Darcy yells. “And not the sex kind!”

Bucky makes a choking sound next to her, and she reaches out to pat his arm.

“You’re gonna piss off the neighbors again!” Darcy says. “I’ll be up in a second!”

Jane makes a face but pulls her head back inside, so it’s a win.

“Sorry,” Darcy says, turning back to Bucky, who thankfully looks amused instead of alarmed.

“That’s fine,” Bucky says. “Steve once threw water balloons at me out our window, so I’d say this is much better.”

“Oh god, don’t give Jane ideas,” Darcy says, shaking her head. “Thanks again. I really appreciate it.”

Bucky smiles down at her. “You’re welcome. It was fun,” he says. “I’ll see you on May 23rd?”

“Yeah, I can’t wait,” Darcy says. She doesn’t know what it means that he remembers the date of her appointment, but it makes something flutter in her stomach. His smile is soft and warm, and she wants so desperately to jump into his arms. She swallows hard and takes a step back, rationality winning out. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he says, that smile never dulling.

She turns, walking up the steps and opening her building’s door. She looks behind her and sees him still there. She gives a small wave and a smile before slipping inside, making sure the building’s door is locked behind her. Only once he sees she’s inside does he leave, turning and walking down the street the way they came. God, she’s so screwed.

Darcy doesn’t bother waiting for the ancient elevator, instead taking the stairs up to the third floor.

“You giant cockblock, oh my god,” Darcy says as she opens the front door. She walks down the hall to the living room.

Jane looks up from the TV. “Was that Bucky?”

“Yes!” Darcy says. “Why’d you have to yell?”

“Well I wouldn’t have if I’d known it was him!” Jane says.

“You probably would have known if you put your glasses on after you took your contacts out!”

“Oh yeah…”

Chapter Text

Darcy wakes up the next morning for class and seriously considers just not going. There’s just a week or so before finals so she knows she should go, but her bed is so comfy and she’s so tired. She’s tired because she didn’t get back until nearly one in the morning. Darcy rolls over, stuffing her face into her pillow to smother her grin. It’s not even that they did anything saucy; they sat in a diner and talked for a few hours. And she still has a happy little glow about it.

There’s a thunk against her door, making her groan. There’s another a moment later.

“Stop kicking your shoes at my door!” Darcy yells.

“Get up for class!” Jane yells back. Ugh. Most of the time Darcy has to remind Jane of commitments, but Jane is never, ever late to class.

Darcy rolls out of bed, cursing Jane under her breath, and stumbles into the hall. Thor is just walking out of his and Jane’s bedroom, hair still wet from the shower. He grins at her.

“Morning,” he says.

“I hate how much of a morning person you are,” Darcy whines.

“I know,” he says, patting her on the head as he walks by.

“We’re leaving in forty minutes!” Jane calls.

“Yeah, yeah.”

Darcy showers quickly, doing the bare minimum to be clean. She’s in a sleepy haze as she brushes her teeth, not the type of person to be fully awake for at least an hour. She sprays some leave-in conditioner in her hair and calls it good. That’s her favorite thing about her curly hair, and something Jane’s ridiculously envious of.

She’s dressed and ready to go with enough time to make some toast and stick it in a napkin before they walk out the door. Jane hands her a thermos of coffee, thank the gods. Darcy really likes it when Thor comes with them to class. They have different start times Tuesdays and Thursdays (and Thursdays are just study days for Jane), but they all leave together Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. And shitty dudes are a lot more cowed by Thor’s angry face than hers and Jane’s. Annoying and bullshitty, but if it makes people hassle her less, Darcy will take it.

Darcy finally starts feeling like a real human when they make it to campus. Her coffee is already gone, so once they separate to go to their classes, she stops at the cart for coffee on the way to her poli sci lecture. She actually really likes that class, so she’d rather be awake enough to process what her professor is actually saying.

She feels fully functional by the end of class and finally bothers to check her phone. She’s one of those people that hits snooze on her phone’s alarm a million times before she actually wakes up, and that means she swipes away every stupid push notification that’s built up in the night. Because of that, she rarely knows if she has texts, emails, or whatever until she’s awake enough to actually go check.

There’s a text from her mom trying to schedule a family dinner during her break. She makes a face, texting back that she’ll check her work schedule. There’s an email from her sociology instructor about the final. Another email, this time from the campus gym reminding her she hasn’t been in lately, and really, they can go fuck themselves. And there’s an Instagram notification, someone asking to follow her. Her heart skips a beat at the name, then a giggle bubbles up. BuckyBear26.

Darcy immediately accepts and requests to follow him back. The staff of Avenger Tattoo seem to all take over the shop’s Instagram handle, showing all their art, pictures of each other, and images of the studio. But he requested to follow her on his own account, one that’s set to private. She can’t believe she’s getting excited over a guy following her on Instagram. Her high school self would be so embarrassed.

Darcy shoves her phone back in her bag as she walks into her last lecture of the day. It’s her physics class and really, she needs to pay attention as much as possible. Her professor seems to have realized that all of them are overwhelmed, so she’s doing a bunch of catch up and review days. Darcy’s actually thrilled to know that she’s not the only one struggling here. She’s also thrilled that she’s not the most behind. She’ll need to buy Jane a big bottle of tequila for all her help.

Professor Miles offers to stay late for anyone that wants extra help, and nearly half the class stays, Darcy included. She takes so, so many notes. Jane will probably have to explain a bunch of it again when it falls out of Darcy’s head on the way home, but she has more of a grasp now, and that’s something. At least enough that she won't fail her final. She’d love to maintain her great GPA, but Cs get degrees.

It’s a Wednesday, and usually she, Jane, and Thor have Thai or pizza (or both). Darcy pulls out her phone to text Jane and Thor. She feels like this is a Thai and pizza kind of day. Kind of week, actually. She gets an agreement from Jane and Thor (poor Thor is really struggling in their psychology class. She’s been helping as best she can), and before she can call in their orders, she gets an Instagram alert. BuckyBear26 has accepted her follow request.

Darcy takes a deep breath and reins herself in from immediately going through his entire profile like a weirdo. She calls in the pizza and Thai orders, gets on her bus (the bus is quicker on the way home from campus but not on the way to, and she doesn’t know why), and texts Jane that she’s on her way to pick up food before finally opening Instagram. She’s very proud that her thirsty ho self waited a whole ten minutes.

She has fifteen-ish minutes to her stop, so she settles in to scroll. His profile picture is him with his hair up in two pigtail buns on top of his head, one eyebrow raised. A grin slowly spreads over her face. His Instagram is a fun mix. He has art he’s made, tattoos he’s done or has, pictures with who she’s assuming are his sister and his mom, plus shots of him with the others from Avengers Tattoo and random things he finds fun, like a baby duck and cool street mural. Is it possible for her crush to intensify because he likes baby ducks? Turns out that yes, yes it is.

She only likes the first few, not wanting to be caught going back two years into his pictures. She did that once with an ex, and she had wanted to sink into the center of the Earth and disintegrate (Jane told her that’s not how it would work but whatever). She does open a DM though, before she can talk herself out of it.

I’m digging the username she sends, then immediately wants to hit her forehead against the seat in front of her. Digging? Who says digging anymore, besides her uncle?

Her phone buzzes with an alert soon after, so she doesn’t touch the questionably clean seat in front of her. Hah, thanks. It’s my sister’s fault. She called me that growing up, and it sorta stuck. There’s a pause, then he sends her a picture, and Darcy actually squeaks, the guy across the row glancing up in confusion. She ignores him. It’s a picture of a teddy bear wearing a New York Rangers jersey being held by a tiny, probably 10-year-old Bucky, also wearing a Rangers jersey. There’s a smaller girl in a purple tutu next to him, grinning and missing two teeth.

Bucky Barnes, that is the cutest damn thing I’ve ever seen. The noise I let out alarmed the guy across from me on the bus.

The bus stop is coming up, so she slips her phone back into her bag. The Thai restaurant is only a few doors down from where they order pizza, so it’s easy to grab both before walking the rest of the way back to her building. She has to do some creative balancing to get the door open, then again to hit the right button on the elevator, but Jane and Thor are back by now, so she’s able to kick the front door a couple times until they open it.

“Thai!” Jane says, taking the bag off the top of the pizza boxes and running back into the apartment.

“Pizza!” Thor says, taking the pizza boxes. He also holds the door open for her, so major points to Thor.

“How was physics?” Jane asks when Darcy and Thor make it to the kitchen.

“Good, actually,” Darcy says. “It was basically an hour and a half of review for me and the other dummies.”

“No,” Thor says sternly, flicking her in the shoulder. Thor read about negative thought patterns and how it can affect your self worth for his project in their psychology class and has been very stern in correcting all of their behaviors. “You are smart, and your performance in one class is not a reflection of your self worth.”

“Yes,” Jane agrees. “Have some good self esteem pizza.”

Darcy rolls her eyes but she’s smiling. “I’m gonna put my bag away and take off my bra, then I’ll be right there.”

“I promise not to eat all the sausage this time!” Jane calls.

“Thank you!” Darcy calls back. She throws her bra into her room and puts her bag in the living room since they’re probably going to start homework as soon as they’re done eating. She does grab her phone though.

Darcy slips into the kitchen as Thor leaves, three slices of pizza stacked on top of his plate of pad thai. It’s truly a miracle there aren’t more stains in their carpet. She loads her plate while Jane grabs sodas out of the fridge, taking a Diet Coke and passing Darcy a root beer.

“We can eat and have two episodes of Brooklyn 99before homework,” Jane says.

“No John Oliver?” Darcy asks.

“No,” Jane says sternly. “You get too angry and can’t focus.”

“Okay, fair,” Darcy says.

It’s Thor’s turn to pick the episodes, and since he always picks from the same six each time, she doesn’t have to pay close attention. She pulls her phone back out between slices of pizza, grinning down when she sees there’s another message from Bucky.

She bought it for me for Christmas and was very proud. Then, a few minutes later: It’s hard to imagine alarming NY bus people. A guy next to me had a chicken yesterday, and no one batted an eye.

Darcy laughs, starting on her reply. She doesn’t notice her laugh has drawn Jane and Thor’s attention.

“Why are you laughing and smiling at your phone?” Jane asks.

“Because I’m an idiot that falls for unattainable men,” Darcy says without looking up. She really should have, because she doesn’t see Jane coming until she snatches the phone right out of her hands. “Hey!”

“Ooh, it’s Bucky,” Jane says.

“Jane, don’t you dare—”

“I’m not gonna say anything. I’m just looking,” Jane says, tilting the phone so Thor can see.

“Great,” Darcy says flatly.

“He is quite handsome,” Thor says.

“I know! He’s super hot, and super funny, and super nice, and I need to stop fantasizing about him holding my stupid hand,” Darcy says.

“Why?” Jane asks. She’s still scrolling.

“Because he’s a really good artist. If I hit on him and get rejected, I’ll have to find somewhere else to go, and I really don’t want to,” Darcy says.

“You could try going out with someone else?” Thor suggests. “Maybe focus elsewhere?”

“What about that guy in your poli sci class that asked you out?” Jane asks.

“His name is Lyle,” Darcy says.

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Everyone knows Lyles are evil.”

“Says who?”

“Says George of the Jungle, that’s who!” Darcy says, snatching her phone back from Jane, sighing when she sees that accidentally sent a bunch of random letters to Bucky.

Sorry, phone fumble. Yeah a chicken sounds positively normal at this point.
Also! Back me up here. There are no good Lyles, right?

Bucky’s response says Nope, not a single one.

Thank you!

“Wow. You belong together,” Jane says.

Darcy puts her phone on silent when they start on homework because Jane has a very strict no phones while studying rule. Darcy teases her for it, but she’s never been more efficient than when she studies with Jane, so she’s fine with it. She’s actually feeling better about her physics class. The professor’s review day plus Jane’s ability to explain things in a way that resonates has Darcy’s chest feeling a lot lighter than it has in a while. Enough so that she doesn’t feel the need to study past midnight. She actually gets to sleep tonight! Incredible.

She checks her phone in bed that night, texting back to her mom that with her work schedule she won’t have time for a long family dinner, but she can do something early in the day. She’s lying and she doesn’t feel bad about it. Family dinners tend to be hours long and involve her parents drinking a lot more wine than they should. At least brunch or lunch is usually at a restaurant, meaning they pace themselves a bit when in public and at least avoid being outrageously rude.

There’s also another message from Bucky, this one saying Good luck on your finals and homework binges. Remember to eat, drink water, and sleep.

Darcy smothers her grin into her pillow before answering I’m actually in bed by 11:45. It’s a Christmas miracle!

I’m envious Bucky responds, followed by a picture of him with his chin propped up on his hand in what looks like the studio. Behind him are Natasha on Sam’s shoulders and Steve hanging from a ceiling beam.

UM???? she sends.

Yeah. We’re switching out some light fixtures, and I work with lunatics. Get some sleep. I promise to let you know if anyone breaks any limbs.

Darcy smiles as she answers. Sir, yes sir. I’ll bring cookies to the hospital, but I’ll also endlessly mock them, so, keep that in mind. Night!

Bucky’s response comes quickly. Ha, I’ll pass along the warning, though they might think that’s a good tradeoff for cookies. Goodnight.

Her smile hasn’t faded one bit as she puts her phone onto the nightstand. She has that giddy feeling she sometimes gets when she talks to someone she’s interested in. It’s a good thing she’s exhausted, or she’d never get to sleep. As it is, she’s barely slept this week, and even thoughts of Bucky can’t keep her awake at this point. She’s out like a light in just a couple minutes.

Darcy hopes that wasn’t the end of them talking, and she’s thrilled when the next morning she’s tagged in one of his stories, showing Steve on his back on the ground in the studio, Natasha pointing and laughing from Sam’s shoulders. The caption says No broken bones, just bruised pride.

Darcy responds with Sorry Steve, only broken bones get cookies.

They start chatting back and forth, often responding to each other’s stories or sending memes they think the other will enjoy. When Bucky sends her a picture of Xena yelling with “Hostile girl summer” written on it, she laughs hard enough that Jane comes over to see if she’s lost her mind in a finals-induced panic. Darcy tells him that’s the exact energy she wants to exude with strange men everyday.

After a few days, she gets a notification of a follow request from holdmecloserrussiandancer, who turns out to be Natasha. She has no idea what that means, but she follows her back. She’s blown away by the ballet pictures Natasha has, and the art, and the tattoos. It’s all a bit intimidating, more than a bit, but then Natasha goes on a spree of liking Darcy’s posts and responding to her stories with fire and 100 emojis. She still doesn’t know what it’s all about, but it boosts her self esteem a bit, so she isn’t complaining.

Finals are getting closer and closer, and her stress levels are just rising. She, Jane, and Thor are regulars in the library still, which has started staying open later for students like them that are frantically studying. The weekend before finals, Darcy adds a picture to her Instagram stories of Thor asleep on his book; Jane with two highlighters in her mouth, looking down at her book; and herself with her face held between her hands, the bags under her eyes making it very clear how exhausted she is. She writes finals start monday over it, shares it to her stories, and lets her head thunk down onto her notebook, making Thor jerk awake across the table.

“Sorry,” she mutters into her notes.

Darcy sighs and sits back up. She wants to make it through at least one more chapter before calling it a night. She gets through a couple paragraphs before her phone buzzes. She picks up the phone, ignoring Jane’s no phones rule, and is glad she did because it’s a message from Bucky. It’s a response to her picture.

Doll, please go home and get some sleep. And probably a snack. Exhausted people don’t take tests well.

Darcy looks over at Thor, who’s back to drooling on his book, and Jane, who has been reading the same page for the last ten minutes, and decides he’s right.

“Pack up,” Darcy says, startling them both. “I’m making an executive decision. Exhausted people don’t test well. We’re going home and getting some goddamn sleep.”

Jane looks like she’s going to argue, but her shoulders sag a moment later. “Yeah, okay,” she mutters, which from Jane is huge.

Darcy nods decisively and starts shoving her books back into her bag. “And we’re calling a cab,” she says. “I’m not falling asleep on the subway tonight.”

“Agreed,” Thor says, packing his own things.

Darcy takes a second to send a picture to Bucky of them packing their stuff away. You’re 100% right. We’re leaving.

Bucky responds while Jane and Thor are still gathering their things. Good. I’m not trying to boss you around, just want you to take care of yourself. Do you need me to call a Lyft?

And there are those damn butterflies again. No, we’re calling a cab. Thanks though. I never want to fall asleep on the subway at night ever again.

“Bucky?” Jane asks, noticing her smile.

“Mmhmm,” Darcy answers.

“Good,” Jane says. “Tell him thanks for reminding us to act like human beings.”

Darcy grins. “I will.”

Jane says, “Thanks for reminding us to act like human beings.”

“Okay, ready?” Jane asks, standing and swinging her backpack onto her shoulders.

“Yes,” Thor says. “I’ll call a cab on the way out.”

“Baller, let’s go,” Darcy says.

They wave to the night librarian on their way out. It’s a weirdly warm night, which Darcy appreciates. She can deal with being exhausted or cold, but turns into a monster when she’s both. Her phone buzzes again as they walk to the corner where they’ll meet their cab.

Haha, you’re welcome. Sam fell asleep on the bus once and woke up with his fingernails painted orange.

Darcy laughs, relaying the story to Jane and Thor, who also giggle.

LOL! You’re giving me so much ammo for when I meet Sam.

The cab rolls up a moment later and they pile in, Thor promising to stay awake if they drift off. She’s almost nodding off when Bucky’s response comes in.

I look forward to watching his face. Natasha will probably get it on camera and frame it. I’m about to crash, get home safe.

It’s all in the cabbie’s hands, but I’ll do my very best. Goodnight.

Her next tattoo appointment is in just a couple weeks, and god she’s going to spontaneously combust when she sees him, isn’t she?

Chapter Text

Darcy follows Bucky’s advice, making sure to sleep, eat, and hydrate throughout her finals stretch, and she has to admit, she does feel a lot better going into finals week than she usually does. Her physics final is rough, and she can’t imagine how awful she would have done on three hours of sleep. As it is, she doesn’t think she did fabulously, but she should at least be able to scrap a C. So long perfect GPA. She nails her poli sci and psychology finals though. She won’t have grades back for a few weeks, but she’s confident in that at least.

Darcy is really looking forward to her tattoo appointment, but she has to survive family brunch. On the one hand, her parents likely won’t make a scene about how much of a disappointment she is in public (that’d be much too embarrassing for people as important as them [she adds heavy sarcasm to that thought]), but on the other, she loves brunch and doesn’t want it ruined by them. They end up deciding on one of her parents’ favorite brunch places in their bougie-ass neighborhood, so at least she won’t be miserable at one of her favorite spots.

Her mom, dad, and brother are already there when she arrives, so she has comments about her chronic lateness to look forward to. (They all tend to go the same way. “I’m like three minutes late.” “Late is late, Darcy Julianna Lewis.”) They’re seated quickly on the beautiful garden patio, complete with dozens of trellises of roses. That’s definitely Darcy’s favorite part of this place.

“So, Darcy,” her mother says once their drink orders have been placed. “How is your schooling?”

“Good,” Darcy says. “I just finished finals, so I’ll get the results back in a few weeks.”

“Do you feel good about them?” her dad asks.

“Yeah, pretty good.”

“Pretty good is not the same as good,” her mother says in the cutesy, chiding voice of hers that never fails to grate on Darcy’s nerves.

Thankfully, that’s when the waiter arrives with their drinks. Darcy takes a big gulp of her mimosa and asks the waiter, “One more?”

He nods politely, though he throws a sympathetic look over her parents’ heads as he walks away. Jonathan and Melinda Lewis are regulars, so she’s sure the staff is well aware of their personalities at this point.

“And what about you, John?” her mother asks her brother. “How’s your work?” Her parents had named him Johnathan Morgan Lewis V. Darcy understands family names, but it’s always made it really annoying trying to figure out who others are talking to when they say John and Johnathan.

“Very well,” John says, throwing her a smug look. She rolls her eyes back, not caring at all when her mother hisses her name under her breath. “Mr. Simons announced he’s retiring next year, so I expect to be named junior partner within the next few months.”

“That’s fantastic!” her mom squeals.

“Remarkable, truly remarkable,” her dad says, clapping John on the shoulder.

“We need to celebrate!” her mother says. She looks around for a waiter, snapping her fingers. Darcy groans, covering her face in embarrassment. “You hush,” her mother snaps at her as the waiter walks over. “Ah yes, we’d like to add the blueberry cobbler for dessert and a round of champagne. We’re celebrating a promotion.”

“Congratulations,” the waiter says with a very forced smile. “I’ll add that right away.”

“He hasn’t even been promoted yet,” Darcy points out as the waiter walks away. “Shouldn’t we celebrate once he gets the official word?”

“Just because you’ve accomplished nothing doesn’t mean you need to be so nasty,” John says.

“Oh I’m sorry, I guess I just haven’t reached the prestigious level of junior snake oil salesman,” Darcy says.

John turns deep red. “Our products are not snake oil! We sell a variety of health and wellness products that—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Darcy says. “Tell it to the FDA.”

John turns even redder, but her mom steps in before he can get into a full meltdown.

“Darcy,” she says, voice low and ugly. “You will be polite, you will be happy for your brother, and if you can’t, you will learn how hard school can be with no financial support.”

Darcy gives a sarcastic little bow of the head and turns to her brother with a fake smile plastered on her face. “Congratulations on maybe being junior partner at some point,” she says.

“Something you will never achieve,” John says, turning his nose up.

“God willing,” Darcy mutters, taking another drink of her mimosa, thanking the waiter profusely as he brings another.

“Keep them coming?” he asks quietly, her parents and brother too engaged in a conversation about John’s company’s vaginal rejuvenation pills to hear.

“God, yes, please,” she says. He nods in sympathy before heading away. God bless waiters. She’s going to slip him a twenty before she leaves. At least.

Brunch doesn’t get much better from there. Lots of barbs about Darcy’s major, lots of praise for her brother, bragging from her father about how much his medical practice is growing, and a lot of pictures from her mother’s architecture firm’s newest projects (“I told Harrison his designs look too much like low-income housing, and he had the nerve to ask what was wrong with that! Honestly, these young architects.”).

Darcy has five mimosas before brunch is over. Her parents offer her a ride back to her apartment, which she graciously denies, not wanting to be stuck in a car with them or give them any reason to invite themselves up to criticise her place. She sighs as soon as she gets onto the bus, briefly closing her eyes. She’s a wee bit tipsy, but she’d had a bunch of lemon ricotta pancakes, so she’s not nearly as wasted as she was when she, Jane, and Thor celebrated completing their finals with tequila.

Thor and Jane are eating lunch in the living room when she gets back. She collapses into the overstuffed pink chair they got from a neighbor that was moving out and lets out a very loud, very long groan.

“That bad?” Thor asks sympathetically. Or at least it would be if he didn’t have a mouth full of tuna sandwich.

“So bad,” Darcy says. “I had five mimosas.”

“Are you drunk?” Jane asks.

“No, because I also had all the pancakes and bacon I could manage,” Darcy says.

“Oh, good,” Jane says. “What was it this time?”

“Some of the greatest hits. I will never amount to anything, without a respectable degree all I have to offer is sex, I wouldn’t even make a good tophy wife, you know the drill,” she says dully.

Thor’s face darkens, and Darcy knows it was a very good decision to not let her parents come up. Thor’s not a randomly violent person, but he isn’t afraid of fucking someone up if they deserve it. He stopped Jane once from going after Darcy’s mom with a softball bat, but she doesn’t think he’d bother this time.

“Jesus,” Jane mutters. “Do you want another mimosa?”

Darcy thinks on that for a second before nodding. “Yes, actually,” she says.

“On it,” Jane says, putting her plate on the coffee table and hurrying off to the kitchen.

Thor comes over while Jane is in the kitchen, sitting on the edge of the coffee table in front of her chair. He reaches out, taking her hands in his.

“Your parents,” he begins softly, “do not deserve you. Your family isn’t worthy of you. I know you’re aware of that, but I also know how comments like that can weigh on a person.” Darcy’s heart aches for him at that. He has an amazing mother, but his father...well. “You are smarter, kinder, and better than they are in every way,” Thor continues. “And I want you to remember that, even when they’re at their worst, because on your worst day you will still be better than them at their best.”

Darcy’s not usually a crier, but Thor’s just so kind and earnest that she starts tearing up. She leans forward, and Thor doesn’t hesitate, wrapping her in the biggest bear hug. She doesn’t even hear Jane come back until she’s hugging Darcy from the back, wrapping her arms around her and Thor’s as best she can. Bucky’s right; she really has found her people.

The mimosa Jane made is in the biggest plastic cup they have, which probably holds half their big jug of orange juice. And Jane pours heavy. She settles in with her mimosa while Jane puts on Hercules, one of their favorite Disney movies. Jane and Thor even went as Hercules and Meg for Halloween last year. Darcy framed the pictures.

She uploads a picture of her squished on the couch between Jane and Thor, cradling her giant mimosa. She captions it Who needs family when you have friends and a big-ass mimosa? She doesn’t have any family on Instagram, either immediate or extended, so she’s not worried about it getting back to her parents and brother.

They settle in to watch Hercules, following it up with The Aristocats and 101 Dalmatians. None of them particularly feel like cooking, so when dinner time rolls around, Thor goes down the road to pick up pho from their favorite little restaurant. Jane puts on a long Vine compilation while they wait, not wanting to start a new movie without Thor.

Darcy uses the time to check her email (no news on next month’s schedule from her boss, though a few books she’s been waiting for came in at the library). She’s about to get up and plug her phone in, when she gets an Instagram alert. Her heart no longer jumps when she sees it’s from Bucky, but it still fills her with warmth.

You all right? he asks in response to the picture of her, Jane, and Thor.

Yeah, she replies. Rough brunch with parents and brother, but I’m less grumpy after a Disney marathon.

Good, Bucky responds. I’m sorry you had to deal with that. Do you wanna talk about it?

Darcy hesitates, not wanting to come off as a whiner, but she knows Bucky is the least likely to judge her.

Usual comments about being a disappointment. Some threats to stop helping with school. Apparently I’d make a garbage trophy wife, which I actually think is a compliment because who wants to be a trophy wife?? She hesitates a second, because she hadn’t told Jane and Thor this, before adding, My brother thinks the only thing I’ll be successful at is being a prostitute.

Bucky’s response is quick. They said what?! Your brother said WHAT?

I have nothing against sex workers, but being told that “the only job you’ll ever succeed at is on your back” isn’t, ya know, the best. she says. She’s actually glad to be talking about it. She hates that it stings, that they still have the ability to make her feel smaller, though she’s gotten a lot better over the years (and after a lot of therapy) about letting go.

And your parents had nothing to say about that?!

She sends My mother said not to be so crass. My father said to consider a different major.

A message from Natasha comes through a second later that says Give me your brother’s name. I just wanna talk.

Before she can say anything back, Bucky sends I’m so sorry, I promise I didn’t tell Natasha. She grabbed my phone because I looked pissed off.

It’s fine, she tells him. It’s not a secret that my family is trash. I stopped hiding what they are in high school when I finally accepted it’s their issues, not mine.

Still. Why would they think that’s an acceptable way to act? To their daughter? To his sister?

She appreciates the outrage on her behalf because sometimes it’s honestly exhausting to be outraged herself.

They were mad I made fun of my brother’s vaginal rejuvenation shit.

Bucky’s response comes a minute later. ...I honestly have no idea what to say to that.

Yeah, he obviously didn’t either lol. He works in a “““health and wellness””” company and insists he isn’t a snake oil salesman, despite the fact that a lot of their stuff is like, Gwyneth Paltrow Goop levels or bullshit.

She takes a moment to switch back to Natasha’s message. Why do I have the feeling that your version of talking involves a crow bar?

Natasha almost immediately sends Of course not. I favor an ASP.

Darcy snorts. Please don’t break his kneecaps. That’d probably cost a lot of money to fix, and I’m hoping to inherit some when they kick the bucket.

Fiiiine. Natasha sends. But know it’s always an option.

I probably shouldn’t be flattered by that, but I am.

Good.

Bucky’s answered in the time she spent messaging Natasha, saying, I’m so sorry, doll. That’s unbelievably unfair.

Thanks, but I promise I’m fine. It bugs me, but it’s not devastating like it used to be. Darcy looks up when Thor comes back, but he tells her to stay put when she asks if he needs help. I have great friends and good pho, so, I’m thriving over here. And therapy helps. Like, a LOT.

“Do you want La Croix?” Jane yells from the kitchen.

“No cough drop water!” Darcy yells back, cackling when Jane dramatically gasps in mock offense.

Her phone buzzes again from Bucky. Good. I’m glad you have people to talk to. And pho, of course.

Darcy grins. Of course, can’t forget the pho. She looks up and thanks Thor as he sets her bowl down on the coffee table in front of her. He kisses her on the top of the head before heading back to the kitchen. Thanks for checking in. I was a little mopey earlier, but I’m good now, promise. Plus, now I can push off seeing them for a while because of summer classes. I’m telling them they start the day after our appointment, but in reality my session starts in June. Suck iiiit.

Ha, good. Anytime. Reach out whenever you need to. I mean it. Whenever.

There’s that familiar swooping in her stomach as she tries to smother her grin so Jane and Thor, who just walked in with their own food, won’t see.

Thank you Bucky. This should be my quarterly emotional episode, but I will.

Good. Don’t be surprised if Natasha still tries to get your brother’s info out of you at your appointment Friday. Also don’t be surprised if she already has it. She’s freaky that way.

“Bucky?” Jane asks when Darcy laughs.

“Yep,” Darcy says. “Natasha, one of the other artists, wants to beat up John.”

“Good. Tell her I want in,” Jane says.

Darcy just snorts and brings a spoonful of pho to her mouth.

We should keep her away from Jane. She says she wants in.

Jesus, yes, separate rooms always.

That doesn’t work out exactly as she’d hoped, because Jane decides she wants a conch piercing and manages to get an appointment the same day as Darcy’s second tattoo session. So on the 23rd, Darcy, Jane, and Thor all walk through the door of Avengers Tattoo a little before 4:00 p.m. Natasha is sitting behind the front desk again, and a slow grin grows on her face at the sight of them.

“This is so going to end badly,” Darcy says to Thor.

“Probably,” Thor agrees.

“Hi Darcy,” Natasha says, still smiling. “Jane and Thor, I’m assuming?”

“Yep,” Jane says, grinning. “Natasha?”

“Yep,” Natasha says. “You’re my 4:00 piercing?”

“I am,” Jane says. “I also come bearing gifts of Darcy’s brother’s name.”

Natasha’s smile takes on a distinctly predatory look. “Come on back and we’ll get started.” She looks up at Thor. “Do you want to come back or wait out here?”

“I’ll come back if that’s all right,” Thor says.

“Good with me,” Natasha says, and she beckons them to follow her back to the piercing room.

“We’ll see you at home!” Jane calls over her shoulder.

“Baaad feeling,” Darcy mutters, then sees Bucky walking her way, glancing at Thor and Jane following Natasha.

“Okay, yeah, he’s huge,” Bucky says when he reaches her, making her grin. “Does he just pick you and Jane up under each arm and walk away?”

Darcy cackles. “He has before, yes,” she says. “We were tipsy and getting shitty with some frat bros in our old building.”

Bucky shakes his head, grinning. “All right, ready to start?” he asks.

“Yep, I’m all yours,” she says, then winces, but he just smiles and leads her back to his station. Before they can get there, the front door’s bell goes off as someone walks in. Bucky stops, leaning back to see who it is.

“It’s just Sam,” he says. Darcy grins.

“Hey man,” Sam says as he walks into the shop, nodding politely to her. “How’s it going?”

“I hear you really rock orange glitter nail polish,” Darcy says.

“...GOD DAMN IT BARNES!”

Bucky howls in laughter, resting his hand on her shoulder as it racks his body.

“Not cool,” Sam says to Bucky.

“Your face,” Bucky gasps. He squeezes her shoulder. “Thank you so much for that.”

“So not cool,” Sam says.

“Come on,” Bucky says, still chuckling. “Let’s go on back.”

She goes with him and calls over her shoulder, “I also know about you forgetting to plug your machine in! Twice!”

“BARNES!”

Bucky’s laughing as he pulls the curtain closed behind them, actually having to wipe tears from the corners of his eyes.

“That’s even better than I pictured,” he says. “I’ll have to pull the security footage for Natasha. She’ll love it.”

“Do you all just endlessly tease Sam?” Darcy asks, hanging her bag on the hook near the entrance.

“It’s more like a circle of teasing,” Bucky says. “Steve, Natasha, and Sam are my Jane and Thor.”

“Ah, very fair,” Darcy says.

“How’d it heal up?” Bucky asks, leaning against the counter.

“Good,” Darcy says, pulling up the side of her shirt so he can see. Bucky leans forward, eyes tracing over the owl. “No issues other than me being clumsy and walking into a doorframe a few times. Which is what Jane and Thor are currently teasing me about.” In addition to her huge crush on him, but whatever.

Bucky snorts. “You should see Steve. He comes out of his room in the morning and bounces off at least three walls before he gets his coffee,” he says.

“Steve sounds like me,” Darcy says. “I’m not made to live before nine in the morning.”

Bucky just shakes his head, grinning. “The two of you, I swear,” he says. “Ready to get started?”

“Yep,” Darcy says, climbing up onto the table. “Same as last time?”

“Yep,” Bucky answers.

Bucky pulls over his tray, already loaded with the ink he’s planning on using. She’s giddy looking at the purples, blues, and greens. It’s exactly what she wants. Bucky smiles, seeing her looking. She lies down in the same position as last time, shirt pulled up right under her bra for Bucky to tape out of the way. He pulls his long hair back, puts on his gloves, and slides up on his stool, facing her front.

“Ready?” he asks.

“So ready.”

“All right,” Bucky says, turning the machine on. The whirr drowns out whatever weird ska stuff is playing in the background. She has a feeling it isn’t Bucky’s day to pick the music given the face he makes when the song switches.

“Not a ska fan?” she asks as he gets started. She makes a face at the first touch of the needle, reminding herself to breathe carefully.

“God no,” Bucky says. “None of us are, but it’s Steve’s turn to pick the music and he’s exacting revenge.”

“For what?” Darcy asks.

“We’ve been skipping his music day all week, and he hasn’t noticed,” Bucky says with a grin. “So this is his payback.”

Darcy smiles, trying not to laugh while he’s working. The pain is already fading into the background, probably because she had a session recently enough that her body isn’t screaming what the fuck at her.

“I love it,” she says. “We did that with Jane’s pick for movie night. We ended up just feeling bad and telling her because she never noticed.”

Bucky snorts. “Her head in the space clouds?”

“Absolutely,” Darcy says.

“How did finals go?” Bucky asks.

“Good actually,” Darcy says. “Better when I started eating and sleeping like a human being.”

“I have good ideas from time to time,” Bucky says wryly.

“Yes, I can admit when I’m wrong,” Darcy says. “We won’t get grades back for a while, but I feel better than I thought I would. Jane really saved my ass in physics. Science is not my forte.”

“Me neither,” Bucky says. “Science was always my favorite class growing up because I loved what I learned, but I definitely didn’t test well in it.”

“Hard same,” Darcy says. “When Jane explains shit to me it’s fascinating, but as far as classes go, my brain doesn’t work that way. She will absolutely talk astrophysics if you’re ever interested in her spiel. She likes to give me layman’s version of stuff when she’s trying to work through something she doesn’t understand. It helps her brain click.”

“I might take her up on that,” Bucky says. “You can ask Steve. I’ve always been a space nerd.”

Darcy grins, imagining a little tiny Bucky with a little tiny spacesuit. “Did Bucky Bear have an astronaut helmet?” she asks.

Bucky groans, but his smile lets her know he doesn’t mean it. “No, that’d have been rad as hell though,” he says. “I did have a model solar system, and I built a bunch of the Apollo models with my mom.”

“So this kind of tattoo is right up your alley then,” Darcy says.

“Oh yeah,” Bucky says. “I’m stoked every time I get to work with space. Plus your idea is fun, and you’re not an asshole, so it’s a win all around.”

Darcy grins. “Well, not an asshole to you,” she says. “You know those white pop-it things you throw on the ground on the Fourth of July that just make some noise?”

“Yeah?”

“I put a bunch of those under my upstairs neighbor’s doormat because they were blasting music until like five in the blessed a.m., no matter how many times we said we had class in the morning. Their screams were a wonderful lullaby.”

Bucky laughs, lifting the tattoo gun while he does. “You and Natasha would get along alarmingly well,” he says. “Did they know it was you?”

“There weren’t any security cameras in the building at the time, so they could prove nothing,” Darcy says. “That’s definitely the reason the landlord installed cameras, though.”

“How rude,” Bucky says.

“I know. How dare he make my torture of our neighbors harder?” she says.

“The nerve,” Bucky says.

“They moved out recently, which is probably good for everyone involved,” she says. “We need some quiet elderly neighbors.”

“I wouldn’t rely on the elderly to be quiet,” Bucky says, adjusting his hand on her side. His prosthetic isn’t cold like she’d have expected, and she feels dumb for not realizing that the first time he tattooed her. In her defense, tattoos are painful and he’s super hot, so her observational skills weren’t really firing on all cylinders. “Steve and my upstairs neighbors are in their seventies, and they’re by far the loudest sex-havers I’ve ever met.”

“Oh my god,” Darcy says.

“I know. And they’re both a little deaf, so there’s shouting,” Bucky says.

“Noooo,” Darcy says, closing her eyes. “RIP to your guys’ dates.”

“It has definitely killed the mood once or twice,” Bucky says. “Steve stays at his girlfriend’s place a lot when they don’t want to be interrupted. His room is right under theirs, and Sharon didn’t like his suggestion of using earplugs.”

“Oh my god,” Darcy says, dissolving into giggles. Bucky lifted the machine when he’d finished speaking, probably anticipating the laughter. “Steve, whyyyyy?”

“I know,” Bucky says, grinning. “Sharon’s a good sport, lucky for him.”

“So lucky for him,” Darcy says, then squints, tilting her head as best she can. There’s a tattoo on the other side of his neck, over his left shoulder, that she swears wasn’t there before. “Is that a new tattoo or am I just really unobservant?” She thinks it’s new, because she stared at him a lot.

“It’s new,” Bucky says, pulling the machine up and turning in his chair so she can see the large magenta peony on the left side of his neck. “Natasha’s work, actually.”

“It’s gorgeous,” she says. It really is, and super realistic.

“Thanks,” Bucky says, getting back to work on her tattoo. “My mom is a big gardener and peonies are her favorite.”

“That’s sweet,” Darcy says. “And peonies are beautiful.”

“I think so too,” Bucky says, sending her a smile before going back to his work.

They fall into a comfortable silence as Bucky works, leaning close while he focuses on the shading of the owl’s feathers. She fights off a shiver when she feels his breath on her skin and immediately wants to kick herself. Next she’ll be fawning over him showing a hint of ankle or some Victorian shit (she doesn’t actually know if that’s Victorian, but it’s the metaphor she’s going to roll with).

“Doing all right?” Bucky asks about an hour in.

“Yeah,” she says. “I’ll have to let Thor know his weird meditation DVD’s breathing tips work.”

Bucky grins. “Yeah? Does he make you guys meditate?”

“He tried,” Darcy says. “Jane doesn’t have the attention span for it, and I don’t have the patience. We do yoga with him instead. He’s a great teacher. He actually works part-time at a yoga studio down the road from our apartment. He’s a big hit with middle-aged women.”

“Yeah I bet,” Bucky says. “I don’t swing that way, but I’d consider it for him.”

Bucky lifts the needle again as Darcy laughs loudly. “You know, that’s not the first time he’s gotten that,” she says once her giggles die down.

“That doesn’t shock me at all,” Bucky says with a grin, bringing the needle back down. “Shit, Steve’s mom and mine are probably there every other day.”

Darcy snorts. “Thor would probably love them,” she says.

“They would definitely love Thor,” Bucky says. “They’re big Tom Selleck fans, but lately they’re all about Jason Momoa and Idris Elba. Thor is right up their alley.”

“My mom too, honestly,” Darcy says. “Normally she turns up her nose at long hair, but I think she too was stunned by the rest of him to even notice.”

“I’m choosing to say nothing rude about your mother,” Bucky says.

“I admire your restraint,” Darcy says. “I’ll ask Jane to send you the memes she and Thor made.”

“They made memes?”

“Oh yeah,” Darcy says. “They have a big folder they’ve added to over the last couple years.”

“Smart. We should start doing that here,” Bucky says. “All right, shading is done. We’re gonna take a quick break.”

Bucky wipes down his work (ouch) and offers her a hand, helping her sit up. She slides off the table, going to look in the mirror.

“Oh my god,” she says, staring at the owl. The feathers are so detailed and realistic that if she touched them, she’d half expect to actually feel feathers. “I don’t know what kind of wizardry you did, but it’s—I’m—holy shit, it looks so good.”

She looks up, meeting Bucky’s eyes in the mirror. He’s smiling broadly at her.

“I’m glad you like it,” he says.

“I love it,” she says. “Honestly, even better than I could ever have imagined.”

A light flush appears on Bucky’s cheeks, and he rubs the back of his neck, looking the very definition of “aw shucks.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he says. “We’ll start on colors for the eyes next. I just need a couple minutes of rest.” He flexes his right hand and rotates his wrist.

“We can stop if you’re in pain,” she says, brows furrowing.

“Nah, I’m fine,” he says. She must not look reassured because he adds, “Really, I’m fine. I know how to pace myself.”

“Okay,” she says, holding her hands up in surrender. “Far be it from me to question the master craftsman.”

“So good of you to notice,” he says with a haughty expression that makes her burst into laughter.

“You sounded alarmingly like my aunt, Cheryl,” she says.

Bucky laughs. “Put me in a wig, and we’ll see if they spot the difference at a family reunion,” he says.

“You’d need a purple beaded dress,” Darcy says. “Which, to be fair, you have the shoulders for.”

“I’d look amazing in a purple beaded dress,” Bucky says. “Steve and I went as flappers for Halloween one year, and if I can make that red dress work, I can make the purple work.”

“Oh my god,” she says. “Are there pictures? Please tell me there are pictures.”

“There are,” he says. She squeaks in delight, drawing a grin from him. “I’ll show you when we’re done. Ready to restart?”

“With Bucky in a flapper dress as my reward? Yes, abso-fucking-lutely,” she says, hopping back up onto the table. Bucky laughs.

“We’re starting on colors for the eyes,” he says. “They won’t be finished today; I’ll need to do some black around the galaxies and some white to make the eyes shine, and I don’t want to do too much trauma to your skin at once. Plus we need to do a bit of a shaded background, so we’ll put that out to one more session.”

“Sounds good to me. You’re the expert,” she says as she settles back onto her side.

Bucky’s...a lot closer to her for this part. The owl eyes are smaller and the galaxies extremely detailed, so his face is very close to her abdomen. He gets quieter for this part, intently focused on his work. He tells her it’s fine if she talks, though he might not answer, but she chooses to stay silent except for answering his occasional check in. Silence with him doesn’t feel oppressive, like it does with her family. It feels calm instead of jittery. It’s not an uneasy truce or a standoff.

Darcy lets her eyes fall shut, the sound of the buzzing machine mixing with the low jazzy music (someone must have hijacked Steve’s ska playlist) lulling her into a weird calm. It’s definitely not meditation, at least nothing like Thor’s, but she’s able to focus on the sound and the feel of his hand on her side to distract her from the pain, letting it float to the background.

“You all right?” he asks softly.

She opens her eyes slowly, blinking a few times to get used to the light. He’s holding the machine, but it’s not touching her. His left hand is still on her side. She hadn’t fallen asleep, but she’d definitely been feeling hazy. She has to clear her throat before saying, “Yeah, fine. Just...drifting?”

Bucky’s smile is as soft as his voice. “Okay,” he says. “Just making sure.”

“I’m not passing out on you, promise,” she says.

“Good,” he says. “Drifting is fine, just tell me if you think you’re going to doze off, so we can wake you up a bit .”

“No sleep twitching while getting tattooed, gotcha,” she says.

The corners of Bucky’s eyes crinkle when he smiles, and she has to remind herself that touching other people’s faces without asking is frowned upon.

“A biker once fell asleep, and his snoring startled me so badly I almost ruined the whole tattoo,” he says, tapping her side with his finger to let her know he’s bringing the machine back down.

“No,” she says, a giggle escaping.

“Yes,” Bucky confirms, leaning in close. “So as long as we avoid that, we’re good.”

“You got it, dude,” she says, closing her eyes again.

“Is that a Full House reference?” Bucky asks.

Darcy grins. “A gold star for you, Mr. Barnes.”

She hears a soft chuckle from him before they fall silent again, Bucky continuing his tattooing. She doesn’t start drifting like before because Bucky starts humming. She’s not familiar with the song but he clearly is, matching the tune and tempo perfectly. Her high school chorus teacher would have been salivating to recruit him.

She opens her eyes slowly, still in that weird lazy calm state. He’s still humming, a tiny crease between his brows as he focuses on his work. She feels a bit voyeuristic watching him, but not enough to stop. His long sleeves are rolled up, showing off the tattoos on his forearm. Her gaze travels from the head of the three-eyed black cat down its body, the tail wrapping around to the inside of his forearm where it’s walking in front of a full moon. There are bats scattered in front of the moon and flying around the cat, one right on the inside of his wrist, disappearing beneath the glove.

Bucky’s biting his lower lip as he leans closer, only releasing it when he pulls back for more ink. The song changes to a slower jazz song she doesn’t know, and Bucky’s humming slows, getting deeper with the song’s melody. It’s soothing, and she thinks that should probably be a strange thing, but it doesn’t feel that way.

Then Bucky glances up at her, needle hovering over skin. His gaze is just as intense as when he was working, and she feels her lips part slightly as her breath catches. She feels completely rooted in place and doesn’t look away, her eyes locked on his. It’s strangely charged, her heart racing. They just look at each other for a long moment before there’s the distant sound of the door’s bell. Bucky blinks, pulling back for more ink. He glances at her once more before going back to her tattoo. She lets out a shaky breath, and she’s not foolish enough to think he missed it.

Darcy closes her eyes again, focusing on the buzzing of the machine and the more lively song that’s come on. Bucky’s stopped humming, unfortunately. She wills herself to be calm, for her heartbeat to get back to something normal. She is not going to get herself twisted up in knots over some intense eye contact. This isn’t Jane Austen. She ain’t doing it.

“Maybe fifteen minutes left,” Bucky says, his voice rougher than she’s heard it so far. He clears his throat before speaking again. “Doing all right?” It’s then that he looks up at her.

She licks her lips before she speaks, not missing how his gaze darts briefly to her mouth, and says, “Yeah, I’m good.”

He looks at her for a second longer and nods before looking back down. She watches as he finishes with careful movements. It’s hard for her to see her side from this angle without twisting into a really weird position that she needs to be a yoga master to accomplish, but she can see the pinks and purple and teals out of her peripheral vision, and she can’t help the growing excitement.

She’s grinning when he sets the machine down, craning her neck to see as best she can, which makes him chuckle. He wipes the tattoo down before offering her a hand up. She thanks him quickly before making a beeline for the mirror. She knows her grin becomes slightly unhinged, but she doesn’t care because she’s so damn excited. The colors are beautiful and vibrant and exactly what she wanted. The galaxies swirling in the eyes, even without the completed black background, are perfect.

“Like it?” Bucky asks.

She looks up and sees him grinning, leaning against the table she’d been lying on.

“Love it,” she says. “It’s exactly what I wanted. You’re like a magician mind reader.”

Bucky shakes his head, still grinning. “Not quite, but I’ll take it,” he says. “Come over here, and I’ll wrap it up.”

Bucky wraps the cling wrap to the tattoo, taping it in place, and reiterates the same aftercare instructions as last time. She appreciates it. A dumb anxiety thing, but she likes the reminder and reassurance that she’s doing the right thing.

When Bucky pulls back the curtain to the main area of the studio, Darcy’s surprised to see most of the shop’s lights out except for low lights over the front desk.

“Sorry it’s so dark,” Bucky says. “I asked Natasha to turn them off when she left so no one started banging on the door trying to get a walk in.”

“That’s fine,” Darcy says. “I can manage not to trip.”

“Can you?” Bucky teases. “You said you tripped over air last week.”

“Yeah, that does sound more like me,” Darcy admits.

Bucky slides into the chair behind the front desk, giving her the total. Once again it’s lower than she thinks it should be, and once again she tips heavily.

“I set aside July 26th for you if that works. That way we don’t have to wait months between sessions again,” Bucky says as he pulls up the calendar. “Otherwise my next opening is in August.”

“July 26th is perfect, thank you,” Darcy says, strangely touched.

Bucky shrugs like it’s not a big deal, but that light flush over his cheeks tells her otherwise.

“Perfect, it’s all yours,” Bucky says. “Give me a second to grab my jacket, and I’ll walk you out.”

“Sure,” she says.

He’s quick, just grabbing a flannel from the closet around the corner, before he’s following her out of the studio. He pulls the metal gate closed across the windows and doors, locking it in place before closing the front door after them.

“Heading home?” Bucky asks as he locks up the front door.

“Yeah,” Darcy says, when her stomach lets out an embarrassingly loud gurgle. “Okay, maybe stopping for food.”

“Wanna go to Roxy’s Diner?” Bucky asks, looking at her over his shoulder as he does the last lock.

Darcy breaks into a wide smile. “God yes.”

Chapter Text

Roxy’s Diner is far enough away that they take a bus instead of walking. It’s a bit crowded, but they’re able to get two seats next to each other that don’t smell like pee, so she calls it a win. Bucky lets her have the window seat, which she appreciates. It’s much easier to avoid handsy pricks when she’s not on the aisle they’re walking in. She also doesn’t want anyone bumping her fresh tattoo, because ow.

“Are Steve, Sam, and Natasha going to feel betrayed that you went to Roxy’s without them?” Darcy teases.

“Nah, Steve will pout if I don’t bring him fries, though,” he says. “Will Jane and Thor?”

“If I don’t come home with food, probably,” she says. “But if I got Thai without them, it’d be Armageddon.”

“We should definitely do Thai sometime then,” Bucky says, making her stupid heart leap. “Bring them back some spring rolls and watch the explosion.”

Darcy narrows her eyes at him. “And you accuse Natasha of being the troll?” she says. Bucky grins. “I’m onto you, mister.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says loftily, turning to glare at a man standing a few feet away that’s been staring at her chest. He quickly turns away. That's so handy.

They get off the bus ten minutes later, walking through Roxy’s front door only a few minutes after that. It’s around eight-thirty, dusk just settling, so it’s not as empty as last time. Dorothy shouts a hello as she runs food to a table, telling them to take a seat, and she’ll be there as soon as she can.

They head toward the back corner where Darcy, Jane, and Thor usually sit. It’s less crowded and, more importantly, far away from the toddler that looks like she’ll start screaming at any moment. Darcy takes off her light jacket, the inside of the diner much too warm, and Bucky does the same with his flannel. Dorothy is over just a minute or so later with waters and menus.

“Well, hello you two,” Dorothy says, a bit of a sparkle in her eye. “The usual for both of you, or are we branching out today?”

“Usual for me, please,” Darcy says.

“Same, please,” Bucky says.

Dorothy tsks. “Some day Frankie is going to convince you to try his burgers,” she says.

“I’m sure they’re great, but breakfast food has my heart,” Darcy says. “He’ll have to settle for Thor and Jane’s love.”

“I’m sure he’ll survive,” Dorothy says. “Be back soon.”

“So you hate mornings but love breakfast?” Bucky asks.

“I love breakfast food,” Darcy says. “Breakfast food can be made any time of day and is just, if not more, delicious than it would be in the morning.”

“Yeah?” Bucky asks, grinning.

She narrows her eyes and points at him. “I know you’re making fun of me, but I stand by that,” she says. “You’re a morning person, aren’t you?”

“Fuck no,” Bucky says, shaking his head. “Steve is, though, and it’s exhausting. He’s always asking me to go running with him at four in the blessed morning.”

“Sacrilegious,” Darcy says. “He should meet Thor. Thor goes running almost every morning and is so alarmingly cheery about it.”

“I’m guessing you and Jane don’t go?” he asks.

“Noooo,” Darcy says. “I tried once when I got into a self esteem weight loss spiral, and after ten minutes decided I’m fine being soft.”

“Good,” Bucky says, looking at her seriously. “There’s not a damn thing wrong with you.”

Darcy has no idea what to say to that, which means it’s great timing for the shriek the toddler on the other side of the restaurant lets out. She jumps, though Bucky only jerks a little in surprise.

“I figured if I keep telling my friends to love themselves how they are, I should probably hop on that train too,” she says, taking the extra few seconds to gather her thoughts. “I stopped looking in the mirror and thinking about all the things I didn’t like and started pointing to all the things I do.” That’s a slight oversimplification, but it’s as close as she’s interested in sharing.

Bucky’s smile is wide. “That’s fantastic,” he says. “Becca would adore you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. She has a similar attitude and is psyched when others do too,” he says.

“I love it,” Darcy says. “She sounds like a smart lady.”

Bucky’s smile is blinding. “She is. She wants to be a therapist and focus on women’s issues,” he says, the pride clear in his voice.

“When does she leave for college?” Darcy asks.

“My mom and I are taking her to explore the area and get her settled later this month,” Bucky says.

“That’s sweet of you,” she says. “She’s lucky to have you as a brother.”

He looks at her for a moment as if trying to decide what to say. She waits, and he seems to think fuck it. “Why does your brother suck so much?” he asks.

Darcy bursts out laughing, then laughs harder at the sheepishly amused look on his face.

“I’m sorry,” she says, trying to stifle her giggles. “The way you said that was just golden.”

“It’s the most delicate way I could say you’re brother’s an asshole,” he says, grinning.

“You don’t have to sugarcoat it at all, I promise,” Darcy says. “He’s a total twat waffle. To be fair, some of it is being raised by our parents, who are also twat waffles, but at some point you have to take a look at yourself and reassess how you were raised.”

“Twat waffles,” Bucky repeats, looking highly amused.

“Absolutely. My parents are the type to value a son more than a daughter. He was their firstborn prince and they definitely treated him that way. Very spoiled, very fawned over, and it really did go to his head,” Darcy says. “When we were younger I tried to force a good brother-sister dynamic, but it just wasn’t happening. He very much drank my parents’ Kool-Aid about them being better than the icky poor people.”

“Are they loaded or something?” Bucky asks.

“Eh, kinda?” Darcy says. “You know the whole ‘money talks, wealth whispers’ thing?” He nods. “Well, they shout. They’re definitely wealthy, but they try to look more well-off than they actually are.”

“Ah,” Bucky says, looking angry. “So, they’re very snobbish, very selfish, and don’t love their daughter as much as they should.”

Darcy shrugs. She’s not holding out for her family’s undying love anymore. She knows through a lot of therapy and introspection that they’re never going to have a truly good relationship, but it still stings sometimes to think about.

“Yeah,” she says, voice smaller than she’d intended. Bucky’s eyes soften. He reaches a hand across the table and rests it on her hands, which oh, are clenched together. She relaxes her grip, and he slips his hand between hers, curling his fingers around hers. She squeezes his hand. “I’m fine. I’ve come to terms with it. My therapist has helped a lot.”

“Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt,” he says.

“Yeah,” she says again, absentmindedly running her thumb over the back of Bucky’s hand. “When I was a kid it sucked more. I didn’t really get why my parents would be thrilled when my brother got good grades, but for me it was just expected and unacknowledged. Or why they went to his football games but never my dance recitals. But now I’m...kind of glad they weren’t as interested in me as they were in John? I don’t know how I’d have turned out if I’d been the focus like he was.”

“I do,” Bucky says. He brings his metal hand up, adding it to where she’s already holding his hand in both of hers. “At your core, you are a kind, compassionate, loving person. They couldn’t change that by treating you horribly, and they wouldn’t have been able to change that if they’d treated you like your brother.” She swallows hard, emotion thrumming through her as she’s unable to break away from the intense but earnest look on his face. He squeezes her hands, then quirks a wry smile. “Plus, when you get that inheritance, you can donate money to low-income housing and really make them spin in their graves.”

Darcy lets out a surprised laugh. She’d forgotten for a second that she’d told him about her mom’s snide comment. Bucky grins, as if he’s glad he made her laugh, and squeezes her hands again.

“Thanks,” she says, still smiling. Bucky’s playing with her fingers, and it’s making her heart do funny things. “I mean it when I say I’ve processed a lot of it already. Like yeah, it sucks, but it’s not emotionally damaging like it could be.”

“And I mean it when I say you’re fucking incredible, and your useless family doesn’t deserve you,” Bucky says.

Darcy swallows hard, hands twitching in his, and he just holds on tighter. She’s not good at taking compliments, something that’s led Jane and Thor to instigate Compliment Time, but she’s trying to get better at it.

“Thank you,” she says, glancing down before forcing herself to make eye contact again. “I’m not good at this, um, but thank you, I...Your opinion means a lot to me.”

Bucky’s smile is bright, but before he can say anything, Dorothy’s walking back to their table, their plates on her tray. Reluctantly, Darcy lets go of Bucky’s hands, pulling hers back from the center of the table. Bucky doesn’t seem thrilled to let go either, his fingers dragging against hers for as long as possible. Dorothy gives them a very knowing look as she sets down the tray.

“BLT, extra bacon and curly friends,” she says, setting Bucky’s plate in front of him before setting Darcy’s down. “French toast with eggs over medium and bacon. Can I get y’all anything else?”

“No, this is perfect. Thanks, Dorothy,” Bucky says.

“I love you, Dorothy,” Darcy says.

“Love you too, honey,” Dorothy says, giving her a wink before heading back to the counter.

“Gotta say, I love that you’re a curly fry guy,” Darcy says, spreading the butter over the french toast.

“I refuse to have boring fries,” Bucky says as he reaches for the ketchup. “Curly fries are good, and anyone who says otherwise is a liar.”

Darcy laughs, then grimaces when she gets syrup on her hand while trying to pour some on her plate.

“I support your vendetta against boring fries,” Darcy says. “Jane and I still buy Capri Sun once in a while because we can, and no one can stop us.”

Bucky grins. “Steve bought some last weekend. Strawberry kiwi or fruit punch?” he asks.

“Both, for sure,” she says. “Why choose?”

“You’re a smart woman,” Bucky says sagely before taking a big bite of his BLT.

They’re quiet for a few minutes while they start to eat. Darcy hadn’t realized how hungry she was until Bucky had mentioned food, and now she’s thrilled. She manages to eat at a normal pace, not a frantic college student speed, which she thinks is a success. She, Jane, and Thor would eat at a lightning pace when they were coming here to study.

Bucky sets his BLT down to shove up his sleeves again, the tattoo catching Darcy’s eye. She doesn’t bother being subtle this time, instead tilting her head to catch as much detail as she can. Bucky notices her looking and extends his arm across the table so she can get a closer look.

“It’s gorgeous,” she says once she’s swallowed her bite. “Did Steve do it?”

“No, this is Natasha,” he says. “I do have quite a few from Steve, though. We practiced on each other a lot when we were learning, so there are a bunch of rough looking ones on my thighs.”

Oh, now she is certainly imagining Bucky’s thighs.

“I love Natasha’s style,” Darcy says, looking at the way the cat’s fur looks so touchable. She looks back up at his face and smirks. “I still like yours best, though.”

Bucky smiles, but there’s also that intense look again. His gaze flicks to her side, where her shirt’s covering the fresh tattoo, before darting back to meet her eyes. She hides the smirk by taking another bite.

“Yeah, she’s great with realism,” Bucky says after a beat. “She and I actually started at Avengers around the same time.”

“You didn’t start with Steve?” Darcy asks.

“No,” Bucky says, face darkening a bit. “I used to work at Hydra in Manhattan. They weren’t...great.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” she says. “If it makes you uncomfortable…”

“No, I’m fine talking about it. I’m fine with you knowing,” Bucky says. “It’s more...embarrassing, I guess. I stayed a lot longer than I should have. They cared less about quality and cleanliness and more about money. A lot of clients ended up with infections because the other artists just didn’t care and weren’t careful.”

“Why’d you stay?” Darcy asks gently. The last thing she wants when he’s opening up is to sound accusatory.

Bucky sighs. “They gave me a shot. A lot of places wouldn’t even let me get the words out of my mouth before saying no,” Bucky says. He raises his prosthetic arm. “Because of this. Even though I’m right-handed, even though the prosthetic is state-of-the-art, they still said I was a liability.”

“That’s bullshit,” Darcy says, earning a glare from a parent at another table. Darcy glares right back before turning back to Bucky, who’s smiling slightly. “I’m serious, that’s some garbage. Isn’t that discrimination?”

“Probably,” Bucky says. “But that’s why I kept striking out places. Steve had an apprenticeship with Avengers and kept offering to ask his boss, Abe, if they had room for me, but I was stubborn. I wanted to do it on my own and not lean on Steve’s help. He eventually convinced me to quit when money started disappearing from my paycheck.”

“What the fuck?” Darcy says, indignant. The angry mother glares again, and Darcy doesn’t even spare her a glance.

“Yeah. Money was disappearing, and another artist had a client with an infection that landed him in the hospital since it went untreated for so long,” Bucky says. “That’s when Steve put his foot down and convinced me to quit. He talked to Abe and somehow got him to hire me, and even teach me about piercing. I was already out of my apprenticeship by that point, but he still taught me how to do things right, even though he was paying me as an artist.”

“He sounds like a good man,” Darcy says.

“He is,” Bucky says, nodding. “He lives upstate now, but he still comes down to visit.”

“And you have nothing to be embarrassed about,” Darcy says. “You were treated badly and taken advantage of. They’re the ones that should be embarrassed. And you should definitely tell me if they’re still in business, because I have some ideas.”

Bucky shakes his head, a smile at the corner of his lips. “They’ve changed ownership since then,” Bucky says. “I don’t know what they’re like now, and I want nothing to do with them.”

“Okay,” Darcy says, though she’d still like to know where they live. “I’m glad you’ve found your people.”

“Me too,” Bucky says. “I’m even glad to have Sam, I guess.”

Darcy laughs and kicks him under the table, making him laugh.

“You love him, don’t you deny it,” Darcy says sternly.

Bucky sticks his tongue out at her before taking another bite. She grins, takes it as a win, and dips her bacon in her syrup. Dorothy comes back a few minutes later to check on them before hurrying up front to the big party of drunk people that just stumbled in.

“Nine-thirty is a little early to be wasted, isn’t it?” Darcy says, peeking around Bucky’s shoulder to look at the guy who just fell onto his ass. “Maybe I’m doing college partying wrong.”

“You don’t strike me as the heavy partying type,” Bucky says.

“Oh, I’m so not,” Darcy says. “Like at all. Thor brought us to a frat party one of his track teammates had, and Jane and I were basically glued to each other’s side all night. Once people started puking into the pool, we were out. We did get tequila wasted after finals, but we did that in the comfort of our own apartment with our own bathrooms to puke in. Oops, shouldn’t have said that while we’re eating.”

Bucky’s laughing though, hard enough that he has to pause with the curly fries almost to his mouth, so she figures he isn’t mad.

“I get that,” he says when he’s done laughing, shoving the fries into his mouth. He swallows before adding, “Sam likes barhopping sometimes, but we mostly like to gather at someone’s place.”

“I feel it. We tried barhopping, but no one wants to hear about Jane’s theoretical astrophysics brainwaves or about how women’s rights are being legislated away every couple years,” Darcy says. “We’re bad at making friends.”

Bucky grins. “I dunno, I think you’re good at it,” he says. “Is that what you want to do with your degree? Push back against sexist laws?”

“I don’t know if that’s it specifically, but I want...I want to do something. Something that matters,” she says. This is the part where her parents laughed at her. “I want to help make the world fairer.”

“You’ll be great at it,” Bucky says, and he sounds so sincere that it makes her heart do a fun little dance. “I expect a video of the first senator you make cry.”

Darcy laughs. She’s had daydreams about making Manchin cry like the little bitch he is. “I promise,” she says. “I want a video reel of making politicians cry played at my funeral.”

Bucky barks out a laugh. “You’re something else, doll,” he says, smiling.

“As long as you know that,” she says primly, which makes him laugh again.

They’re almost done with their food when Bucky’s phone buzzes on the table. He glances at it and frowns.

“Everything okay?” Darcy asks.

Bucky looks up, expression clearing. “Yeah. It was an appointment reminder that I forgot about,” he says. “I have a check-in on the arm tomorrow morning.” Bucky lifts his prosthetic arm. “It’s still technically a prototype, so every few months I go in so they can make sure it’s still working all right.”

“Does it hurt?” Darcy asks.

“No, not at all. It was uncomfortable a first, but not nearly as bad as losing the arm was,” he says.

Bucky flexes the metal fingers before holding his hand out to her to touch. She runs her fingertips down his metal fingers, over his palm, and traces over the metal plates of his wrist. It feels lighter than she thought it would, but it makes sense that it wouldn’t be an extremely heavy metal if it’s a limb. His hand jerks when she touches the inside of his wrist, making her look up in alarm.

“It’s fine,” Bucky says with a small smile. “Just tickles.”

“It tickles?” she asks. “Is it—okay, this may be an ignorant question, but I don’t know much about prosthetics. You can feel tickling?”

Bucky grins. “Not with my old one, but this one, yeah. The engineer is a bit of an asshole and put tickling in half as a joke and half to see if he could,” Bucky says. “I can feel temperature, pressure, sensation. I can tell if something is wet or slippery. I can feel mild pain. Not enough to really hurt but enough to know if the hand or arm has some damage.”

“Whoa,” Darcy says. “That’s incredible.”

“Yeah, I got lucky. Steve did a big mural for the guy who makes them and ‘casually’ mentioned me,” Bucky says, putting heavy emphasis on casually. “Turned out I was a good candidate.”

“It sounds like Steve has a bunch of crazy connections,” Darcy says.

Bucky laughs. “He really does. He meets the most random people in the strangest ways,” Bucky says. “Did I tell you how he met Sam?”

“Nope,” Darcy says.

“Skydiving,” Bucky says.

“What? Seriously?” Darcy says.

“Yep. Sam was with pararescue in the Air Force, and when he got out, he started working at a skydiving place,” Bucky says.

“Did he meet Natasha in a similarly weird way?” Darcy asks.

“Nah, I introduced them,” Bucky says. “She and I, er, actually briefly dated.”

“Oh,” Darcy says, resisting the kneejerk urge to be uncomfortable. She is a modern woman, damn it, and she likes Natasha. And Bucky’s not hers to be jealous over. That seems like an important point. “Did you meet Natasha in a weird way?”

Bucky grins. “Yeah, kind of,” he says. “She came to trash Hydra.”

“What?” Darcy asks, a maniacal grin taking over her face. She leans forward, elbows on either side of her empty plate. “Tell me everything.”

“I was leaving really late one night. I’d stayed to do a deep clean of the whole place after another client got an infection,” he says. “I was leaving at like 2:45 in the morning right as she was breaking in.”

“No,” Darcy says, covering her mouth to smother her giggles.

Bucky grins even wider. “We just sort of stared at each other for a second, and she said, ‘Since you’re the good one, wanna look the other way?’ This was close to when I quit, so I just shrugged and said to at least trash my station a little so it didn’t look like I was in on it,” he says. Darcy’s laughing so hard she’s shaking. “She fucked the place up good too. I don’t know how she knew, but she did maximum damage that the insurance company wouldn’t cover.”

“Oh my god,” Darcy says, accidentally letting out a snort-laugh, which makes her laugh even harder. Bucky apparently can’t hold it in either, laughing into the palm of his hand. “I can’t believe someone has a weirder meeting story than Thor and Jane.”

“Yeah?” Bucky asks, still smiling wide. “How’d they meet?”

“Jane hit him with her car,” Darcy says, laughing at the shocked look on Bucky’s face.

“She what?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Darcy says, grinning. “We were moving into our old dorm, and he walked behind our car when we were backing up.”

“Oh my god,” Bucky says. “I’m guessing he wasn’t mad since they ended up dating?”

“No, he was a bit drunk though and was yelling, which was freaking me out, so...I tasered him,” Darcy says.

“He was yelling?” Bucky asks, then he slowly grins. “You tasered him?”

“Yeah, he wasn’t yelling at us, though. He got in a big fight with his dad and brother and thought he was screaming at them on the phone,” Darcy says.

“Oh, so he was that drunk,” Bucky says.

“Oh yeah,” Darcy says. “He just kept yelling in Norwegian, and it was freaking me out, so when he got closer, I used my taser.”

Bucky shakes his head, laughing. “All right, yeah, that’s definitely up there in the weird meetings hall of fame,” he says. “And he ended up as a good friend and a boyfriend.”

“He did,” Darcy says. “Life is fucking weird.”

“Yes, yes, it is,” Bucky agrees.

Dorothy comes back then to check on them and take away empty plates. It’s nearly ten p.m., and the crowd has thinned out, leaving the drunk party, a few other tables, and Darcy and Bucky.

“Have the drunks calmed down?” Bucky asks.

“A bit,” Dorothy says. “I think I’m in danger of them falling asleep now.” She rolls her eyes and sets their checks down on the table. “Not rushing you, kids. You enjoy your night.” This time her wink is directed at Bucky, which makes his cheeks go a bit pink.

“I can’t decide if Dorothy thinks she’s being subtle or if she just doesn’t care,” Darcy says as Dorothy starts to shoo the drunk group out of their booth.

Bucky laughs. “Yeah, you know, I’m not sure either,” he says.

There’s a loud thud as a drunk guy leans too far back in a chair and tips over backwards. Darcy snorts.

“They’re not driving, so at least there’s that?” Darcy says, turning back to Bucky.

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees. “That’s, uh, that’s actually how I lost my arm.”

“Oh,” Darcy asks, stomach sinking. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t—”

“No, no, you’re fine,” Bucky says, waving away her concern. “A drunk driver hit our car and pushed us into a ditch. Thankfully, it was on my side of the car, and my mom and Becca weren’t hurt badly.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Darcy says. “Did the driver get arrested?”

“Yeah, but he just got community service,” Bucky says with a bitter smile.

“I’m sorry, he what?” Darcy says, outraged. “What’s his name? I have ideas for him too.”

Bucky smiles softly. “Please don’t go getting into fights with all New York’s assholes,” Bucky says.

“Not all of them,” Darcy insists. “Just a few specific ones.”

Bucky shakes his head, still smiling, a few tendrils of hair that escaped his bun brushing his cheeks. He is just so damn pretty.

“It was a long time ago, doll,” Bucky says, covering her clenched fist with his hand. “I’m not full of rage anymore. Therapy’s helped me too.”

“I’m glad,” Darcy says, unclenching her hand and turning it over to lace her fingers with his. “Oof. A night for heavy chats, huh?”

“It feels like it’s been coming, though,” Bucky says. “Doesn’t it?”

“Yeah...yeah it does,” she says. She isn’t lying. It’s felt as if all their interactions compound on top of each other, building up to something...more. Something she hasn’t felt up to naming yet.

Bucky smiles that soft, sweet smile that makes her feel like melting. Of course, that’s when there’s a shriek from the party table as one of the drunk men knocks over a glass of water. Darcy and Bucky both wince at the volume.

“Want to get out of here? Maybe take a walk?” Bucky asks, having to raise his voice a bit to be heard. One of them is now whining about his designer jeans. As much as Darcy would usually love to watch Dorothy hand them their asses, she’s not at all remotely interested.

“Yes,” Darcy says, grabbing her jacket. “Absolutely.”

Dorothy’s arguing with the drunk table, so Frankie rings them out, then they’re slipping on their jackets and walking out of the diner. It’s a warm enough night that she doesn’t bother to zip hers up. They’re far from the only ones out, but it’s not crowded. Perfect for a walk.

Bucky takes her hand in his, and even though she’s expecting it, it still makes her heartbeat do that little dance again. They walk for a bit in a comfortable silence, and she’s honestly kind of surprised. Usually silence can make her antsy and she runs her mouth to fill the void, but she’s perfectly comfortable just walking with Bucky.

Roxy’s Diner’s neighborhood is full of cute historic buildings mixed with the occasional modern monstrosity that someone decided is chic. She makes a face when they pass one, and Bucky chuckles next to her.

“Not a fan?” he asks, nodding toward the house.

“Ugh, no,” Darcy says. “There’s no charm! There’s no character! They don’t even have a plant on their stoop! They might as well hang a sign that says Hi, We Have No Personality.”

Bucky laughs. “What if I told you Steve and I live in a building like that?” he asks.

Darcy narrows her eyes at him. “I can’t tell if you’re kidding or not,” she says, and he just smiles. “But since you didn’t design and build it, I’d let it pass.”

“Very generous,” Bucky teases.

“No offense to modern design enthusiasts!” Darcy calls back at the house. Bucky laughs again, tugging her back around before she walks into a garden wall.

“Would it help if I told you we have a window box with flowers?” Bucky asks.

“Uh, yes!” Darcy says. “Do you really?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says. “Steve’s mom gave it to us when we moved out, and she makes sure we put stuff in it.”

“Good for Steve’s mom,” Darcy says.

“So you’re a flower lover?” Bucky asks.

“Yep,” Darcy says. “I actually want a flower tattoo at some point.”

“Yeah? What kind?” Bucky asks.

“I’m going back and forth,” Darcy says. “I’m having trouble picking which flower, so I’m debating between just one pretty little flower and a bouquet.”

“How many are you narrowing it down from?” Bucky asks.

“Uh...twelve,” she says.

Bucky chuckles. “All right, let me know when you decide,” he says.

“You’ll be the first,” she says, squeezing his hand.

Bucky squeezes her hand back, then tugs her to the inner edge of the sidewalk, right under a blooming magnolia tree. He gently pulls her toward him until there are mere inches between them, his arms around her back. She settles her hands on his hips, tugging him just a bit closer.

“Tell me I’m not misinterpreting this,” he says, voice low.

“You’re definitely not,” she says, fingers tightening on his hips.

Bucky places hand on the side of her throat, thumb brushing over her jawline. Her heart is thudding in her chest, and she has no idea what her face is doing, but it makes him smile as he brushes his nose against hers before finally kissing her.

It’s soft and sweet and absolutely the best first kiss she’s ever had, under the beautiful magnolia blooms. Bucky holds her tightly, and she feels completely surrounded and safe. She wraps her arms completely around his waist because there’s not a chance in hell she wants to let go.

When they break this kiss, he doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against hers. She’s glad, because she can’t imagine being far from him right now. She feels breathless, even though the kiss was relatively chaste. One of his hands is running up and down her spine, the other still caressing her throat. She tightens her grip around his waist, sighing as her breathing returns to normal.

“Wow,” she finally says.

“Mm,” Bucky hums, then he kisses her again, harder this time. She holds him tighter, going to the tips of her toes and giving back just as much as she gets. Bucky makes a rumbling noise in the back of his throat that makes her breath hitch. She’s trembling a bit when they pull back this time.

“Somehow even better than I imagined,” he says.

“Yeah? You’ve been imagining it too, huh?” Darcy says, grinning.

“You have no idea what I’ve imagined,” he says, clearing his throat when it comes out gravelly. Oh, she definitely has some idea. He blinks away the intense look on his face and grins a bit, reaching up into her hair and pulling out a magnolia blossom.

“That was smooth as hell, by the way,” she says as they start walking again. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and she keeps one around his waist, wanting to stay close. “Under a canopy of flowers? That’s like straight out of a movie.”

Bucky laughs, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m a bit proud of it, yeah,” he says. She laughs loudly, bumping him with her hip.

It’s weird, right? It should be weird, at least, how easy it was to fall into this with him. He’s right; it’s like this was always coming, and this is just the natural next step. She decides against dwelling and just leans into it.

“We should probably start getting you home,” Bucky says, sounding regretful. “You need to take the cling wrap off soon.”

Darcy sighs dramatically, but she knows he’s right. “Yeah, I guess I shouldn’t neglect a tattoo in favor of the artist,” she says.

“I’d prefer that,” he says.

They turn right at the next corner, heading in the direction of her building. They’ll stop each other occasionally, when (in Darcy’s opinion) it’s been entirely too many minutes since she’s kissed him. They’re walking past a small park when Bucky backs her up against a clean garden wall, cradling her face. He pauses just long enough to make sure she’s onboard (she so is), then he’s kissing the hell out of her.

He lets out a low noise in the back of his throat as he buries a hand in her hair and tugs ever so lightly. Darcy moans into his mouth, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him even closer. Her heart is racing, want building inside her, and it’s only the fact that they’re in public that stops her from doing something that would get her arrested for indecency. His other hand runs up her side (the one without a fresh tattoo), and she arches into the touch, pressing her body against his.

This time when they break, they’re both panting, and she has to coax herself to relax her fingers where her nails are digging into his back. Bucky doesn’t let go while they catch their breath.

“I cannot wait for this tattoo to be healed and cleared for activity,” Darcy says, voice more breathy than she’d expected.

Bucky chuckles, the sound rumbling through her. “Right there with you, sweetheart,” he says.

He stays for a moment longer before slowly pulling away. She doesn’t let him go far, going on tiptoes to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw before tucking herself against his side, arm around his waist. She doesn’t miss how his eyes darken at that as he wraps his arm around her again.

“We’re never going to make it back at this rate,” she teases, nudging him as they start walking again.

“I’m not complaining,” Bucky says.

“Me neither,” Darcy says. A dumb walk with him is already more exciting than her entire relationship with Ian.

They do make it back to her building, though they take a few more, uh, breaks on the way. They definitely gave an eyeful to the older man trying to take his trash out, but he just hollered at them to use protection, so it’s not the end of the world.

They pause outside her apartment building. She glances up to her living room window and sees the light on, meaning Jane is probably waiting for her (and possibly peeking out the window). Bucky smiles softly down at her, bushing his fingers across her cheek as he pushes the hair from her face.

“Can I take you out tomorrow?” he asks.

Darcy smiles, taking a step closer until they’re nearly touching. She runs her hands up his chest, then wraps them around the back of his neck, pulling him down to her. He goes easily, meeting her lips with his in a soft, less hurried kiss.

“I’d love it,” she says, lips just barely brushing against his. He grins and kisses her again.

“Get inside before I decide to give Jane a show,” he says.

Darcy looks up and sees a shadow in the window drop out of sight. She snorts a laugh, shaking her head. “If you insist,” she says. She kisses him one last time because she can before pulling back. “See you tomorrow.”

“Can’t wait,” he says.

Bucky once again waits until she’s inside the building and the door’s locked behind her before he turns to go, sending a wink her way as he does.

Darcy feels like she’s floating the entire elevator ride up to her floor, and she knows there’s a stupidly wide grin on her face. She unlocks the door to Jane’s shriek of, “WAS THAT BUCKY?!”

“Fuck yeah, it was!” Darcy calls back.

Chapter Text

“He kissed you!” Jane shrieks.

“Yes!” Darcy says. “A lot!”

“Yes!” Jane says.

Jane had met Darcy by the front door, nearly jumping on her as soon as she’d come in. Thor walks in from the living room a moment later, letting Darcy know he’d been peeking out of the windows with Jane.

“You know, you’d have been a lot subtler if you’d had the living room lights off,” Darcy says, unable to keep the happy grin off her face, even while teasing them.

“We were...distracted,” Thor admits. Darcy fake gags.

“Not important,” Jane says. “Tell me more.”

“We’re going out tomorrow,” Darcy says, doing a little dance in place. “No idea what or where, but I don’t really give a fuck.”

Jane joins her in a little happy dance before a huge yawn racks her body. “Okay, I’m very happy for you, but I’m exhausted,” she says.

“Yeah, go to sleep,” Darcy says. “I have to wash the tattoo anyway.”

“Send me a pic when you’re done,” Jane says.

Thor kisses the top of her head as he walks by, telling her he’s happy for her.

Darcy’s still floating when she crawls into bed a half-hour later. She grins when she sees she has a message from BuckyBear26 that says I realize I should probably get your actual phone number instead of messaging you on Instagram and after that, his phone number.

She laughs and saves the number before texting him It’s Darcy! I realized as soon as I got in that I didn’t have your number, which seems like a big oversight.

Bucky’s answer comes a couple minutes later. Oversight accounted for. How do you feel about meeting at noon tomorrow?

Darcy grins. Sounds good to me. Where’re we going?

Bucky answers with It’s a surprise :) wear comfortable shoes. Meet at yours?

Darcy’s usually fifty-fifty on whether she likes surprises or not, but she thinks Bucky can join Jane and Thor on the list of people surprises are acceptable from.

Oh you’re being sneeeaky. Okay, noon surprise it is :)

Perfect Bucky sends, along with a picture of him and Steve. Steve’s shoving a party hat on Bucky’s head and holding a sign that says CONGRATS ON GETTING SOMEONE TO GO OUT WITH YOU. Bucky’s eyes are closed, and he’s pinching the bridge of his nose, but he’s still clearly laughing. Steve is thrilled, by the way lol comes a moment later.

Darcy laughs. Jane cheered for me as soon as I got in the door, so it seems like they’re on the same wavelength.

Haha, what weird friends we have. I’m gonna crash so I’m a functioning human tomorrow. Goodnight sweetheart.

There are those damn butterflies again. Looking forward to it :) goodnight

Bucky’s got the right idea. It’s past midnight, and she really should sleep. The problem is, she’s still thinking about the walk home...about him pushing her up against the wall, his big hands on her, the noise he’d made when she’d kissed him. She shifts in bed, rubbing her thighs together, a zing of pleasure rushing through her.

Darcy bites her lip, running a hand down her chest, pinching at her nipple before going farther, dipping her hand into her panties. She’s already wet, her clit hard as she strokes between her folds. She thinks about the heated looks he’d given her, how tightly he held her, the feeling of his strong body pressed against hers.

Darcy bites her lip, trying to keep her whimpers inside (she shares a wall with Jane and Thor, after all), but it’s hard. She’s already close, body tensing as the pleasure builds inside her. It’s the thought of his mouth between her legs, scruff against her inner thighs that finally pushes her over the edge. She comes with a muffled moan, waves of pleasure washing over her.

She lies in bed, luxuriating in the aftershocks, coming down slowly. She cleans up with the tissues on her nightstand and relaxes into her pillow, sleepy and satisfied. She falls asleep sated and excited for the next day.

The next morning, Jane and Thor are shamelessly obvious about watching out the window when Bucky arrives.

“Darcy, he’s here!” Jane shouts.

“I know, I buzzed him up!” Darcy calls back from the bathroom. She’s just finishing her mascara and isn’t mean enough to make him stand on the hot sidewalk. She’s not a monster. The knock on the door almost makes her jump, but she manages not to jab herself in the eye with the mascara wand. “Do NOT threaten him!”

“I would never!” Jane says, and she can hear the front door opening and the vague sounds of her and Bucky’s voices. “We like him! He’s no Ian!”

“Thank the gods for that!” Thor calls. Bucky’s laughing in the background.

“You’re both chowderheads!” Darcy calls back, turning her face from left to right to make sure no wayward mascara got onto her skin before declaring herself ready. She grabs her bag from her room before walking down the hall. Jane, Thor, and Bucky are chatting in the entryway, Bucky laughing hard at whatever joke Thor just told (Thor is so good at corny jokes it might as well be a superpower).

Bucky’s face brightens when he sees her. He steps away from Thor and Jane, reaching out when she gets close. She grins and takes his hand, letting him draw her in. The kiss isn’t as passionate and it might have been if Jane and Thor weren’t standing right here, but she still shivers all the way down to her toes.

“Hey,” he says when he pulls back.

She grins back up at him. “Hey,” she says. “You look especially handsome, which I’d say isn’t fair, but I get to look at you all day, so good for me.” Bucky laughs, a light dusting of pink appearing on his cheeks. It’s true though; it seems maroon t-shirts really make his skin and eyes pop, and she may spend longer than is appropriate looking at his muscled arms (his prosthetic matches the size of his other arm shockingly well) and long fingers.

“You are still the most beautiful thing I’ve seen in my life,” Bucky says, voice serious, and yep, now it’s Darcy’s turn to blush.

“Aw,” Jane says, lightly whacking Thor on the arm to make sure he hears. “Go, get out of here, you disgustingly adorable goobers.”

Darcy snorts, taking Bucky’s hand. “I’ve had to listen to you wax poetic about Thor and his abs for years, missy. I’ll take no criticism,” she says, making Bucky and Thor laugh and Jane fake pout. “We’re gone, bye!”

“Make wise choices!” Jane calls, cackling as Darcy slams the door.

“They’re the ones that almost got arrested for having sex in the library, but sure, I’m the problem,” Darcy says, making Bucky laugh as they walk down the stairs. “How’d your arm check-in go?”

“Good,” Bucky says, holding it up and clenching his fist. “He said it’s holding up as well as he’d hoped. No issues at all. He wanted to make it more ticklish, but I reminded him that I could crush his tablet if he’d like, and he backed off that.”

“It’s that strong?” Darcy asks. “That’s cool as hell.” Bucky laughs.

They take a couple buses, Bucky still keeping mum about where they’re going, though eventually it becomes clear at least that they’re heading to the Bronx. He occasionally checks the time on his phone, which is A Clue, though Darcy has absolutely no idea what it means. She’s a bit embarrassed she doesn’t catch onto their destination until they’re off the bus and rounding a corner, which is when the Bronx Zoo comes into view.

“Oh my god, I love the zoo. Did you talk to Jane?” Darcy asks.

“No, I just figured you might,” Bucky says, smiling at her reaction.

“You figured correctly,” Darcy says. “I promise not to scream at every single animal I see...I promise to try not to scream at every single animal I see.”

She tries to pay for her own ticket, but Bucky’s already bought them online. He sticks his tongue out at her as the lady scans the barcode on his phone at the entrance, and she sticks hers out right back. They’re mature adults on a mature adult date.

“I am so excited, you honestly have no idea,” Darcy says. They’re in front of a zoo map, trying to decide what route to take. The Bronx Zoo is big, so she wants to prioritize here.

“I’m glad,” Bucky says. He looks at the time on his phone again. “But we have someplace to be first.”

“We have someplace to be at the zoo?” Darcy says.

“We do,” Bucky says, lacing his fingers with hers, gently tugging her with him.

She’s been to the Bronx Zoo (it’s the zoo, okay?), but not often enough to have it memorized, so she doesn’t really know where he’s leading her until the palace-like Zoo Center building comes into view. They meet an attendant who leads them to a room that’s empty apart from a few chairs and a box of what looks like cat toys, and her curiosity is killing her, here. One of the walls is glass, letting them look into an animal enclosure, though she can’t see anything moving around from where she is.

She turns to Bucky in confusion, about to ask what the deal is, when a door on the other end of the room opens. A man and a woman walk in, each holding a small fennec fox.

“Oh my god,” Darcy says, clutching at Bucky’s arm. “Oh my god?!”

Bucky’s grinning. “This is Clint, Natasha’s boyfriend,” he says, nodding toward the man holding the fennec fox. “He was able to squeeze in a private, what’d you call it? Experience?”

“It’s officially called a private fennec connection, but whatever,” Clint says with a shrug. The fennec fox in his arms makes a little squeak noise, one the Darcy almost immediately mirrors in her excitement. Clint grins. “This is Charlie, and that’s a happy noise. Kate has Strudel.”

“What is happening?” Darcy says, tearing her eyes away from the cutest fucking things she’s ever seen to look at Bucky, who’s smiling widely down at her. She realizes she’s still digging her nails into his arm and forces herself to relax, sliding her hand down to clutch at his instead. “Bucky Barnes, what is happening?”

“We’re going to hang out with fennec foxes and learn about ’em,” Bucky says

“Probably best if you sit,” Clint says, gracefully lowering himself to the ground without letting go of Charlie. Darcy all but drops onto the ground, followed by a chuckling Bucky. “So, fennec foxes…”

Darcy listens with rapt attention as Clint and Kate tell them about fennec foxes, though she’s staring at Charlie and Strudel nearly the entire time. She keeps her death grip on Bucky’s hand, which is helping her not launch herself across the room at the fucking adorable fennec foxes.

After Clint and Kate give them an overview, they set Charlie and Strudel down and drag a few toys across the ground, watching the foxes pounce and chase. Kate’s talking about the enrichment the zoo gives them and how important playtime like this is. Darcy nearly vibrates out of her skin when Clint sits next to them, handing Darcy what looks like a large version of a cat toy on a string connected to a long stick.

“Me?” Darcy verifies, voice as squeaky as Charlie's and Studel’s happy noises. “For real?”

“Yeah,” Clint says, grinning. “Just drag it across the ground. If they’re wary since you’re new, try bouncing it a bit, and see if that gets them.”

Darcy doesn’t need to be told again. The stick is easily three feet long, and the string even longer, so there’s room between her and the toy. Enough room that Charlie and Strudel aren’t shy at all, jumping on the shiny feather on the end of the string. They tumble and pounce, trying to catch the toy, making the cutest squeaking noises she’s ever heard. Darcy had pet rats growing up, and Charlie’s and Strudel’s noises remind her of when her rats were particularly active.

Bucky’s sitting with his legs stretched out in front of him, and Strudel apparently takes that as an invitation to attack his bootlaces. Bucky grins, bouncing his foot a little bit. Strudel lets out a delighted squeak and attacks harder, batting at the laces. Darcy is going to die of cuteness, but in her distraction, Charlie manages to pounce on the feather toy, squeaking wildly and skidding around the floor until he’s pressed against her crossed legs, gnawing on the toy. Okay, now she’s going to die of cuteness.

Clint snorts from next to her. “He’s a little opportunist,” he says. He looks up at Kate and says something Darcy doesn’t catch (she’s a bit busy staring at the fennec fox nearly in her lap), and then Kate’s handing Clint a baggie. “Here, give him a treat. You’ll be his absolute favorite.”

As soon as Charlie smells the treat, he flips around, his dark eyes trained on where Clint’s handed her the treat. She tentatively holds it out, not wanting to startle him, but not a chance. Charlie scrambles up her thigh, snatching the treat she’s holding out. She’s expecting him to dash off with it, but he stays right where he is, demolishing the treat while perched on her thigh.

Clint sets a toy mouse on her leg when Charlie finishes the treat, and he seems plenty happy to stay on her thigh, gnawing at the mouse between his little paws. She looks over at Bucky and knows her eyes are wide. He’s smiling softly at her, Strudel chewing on her own treat on Bucky’s shins. Darcy grins and turns back to Charlie.

“You can pet him,” Clint says. Darcy turns to him with wide eyes, sure he’s kidding. “Yeah, I’m serious. Like this.” Clint reaches out, slowly stroking Charlie’s back. Charlie gives a little happy squeak but doesn’t look up from his mouse.

Darcy’s face is starting to ache from how long she’s been smiling, and her smile only grows when she strokes a hand down the soft fur of Charlie’s back. She can hear Kate walking Bucky through the same thing and glances over to see Strudel on the ground next to Bucky’s thigh, batting at the feather toy, Bucky scritching her on the neck.

“Is this heaven?” Darcy asks. Bucky looks over with a bright smile. “Seriously, did we have a bus crash on the way? Have I been a good enough person to get into fennec fox heaven?”

“You absolutely have been, but we’re, thankfully, still alive,” Bucky says, smiling wider when Strudel rolls onto her back, batting at his fingers with happy squeaks.

After a good long while of petting Charlie and Strudel, Clint lets them know that unfortunately, there’s another group due soon, and they need to switch out Charlie and Strudel for other fennec foxes. They give them a couple last pets and thank Clint and Kate profusely before leaving.

As soon as they’re back in the general area of the Zoo Center, Darcy turns and leaps into Bucky’s arms, her toes barely touching the ground. Bucky lets out a surprised oof but doesn’t drop her, arms tight around her back as she probably squeezes the air out of him. She smacks a kiss to his neck, making him laugh, before relaxing her grip, sliding down the front of his body until she’s solidly on her own feet again.

“I’m just—you are—Oh my god, thank you,” she says. “My brain will come back online with full and grateful sentences soon, but holy shit.”

Bucky laughs, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pressing a kiss to her temple. “How about we eat lunch and you can decompress?” he says.

“Yes, absolutely,” Darcy says. “You know the way to my heart: food and cute animals.”

They head to the restaurant closest to the Zoo Center, getting a veggie panini (Bucky) and a cheeseburger (Darcy). Darcy manages to get her card out before Bucky and pays with a triumphant look, making Bucky roll his eyes and laugh. They sit at a table outside, watching people stream by. Darcy is still positively floating on a cloud of fennec fox happiness, and judging by Bucky’s smile, she’s not subtle about it.

“I’ve found words again,” Darcy says after a few bites of her burger.

Bucky snorts a laugh. “Yeah?”

“Yes,” Darcy says, wiping her hands on her napkin before reaching across the table and taking Bucky’s free hand in hers (the metal one has panini on it). He threads his fingers with hers. “This is by far the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. I genuinely cannot remember being this excited and happy for something, other than moving out of my parents’ house. I literally couldn’t dream of anything better.”

Bucky squeezes her hand, his smile wide. “I may have scrolled through a few years of Instagram and Facebook posts,” he confesses.

“I may have too,” Darcy says. “But it wasn’t to plan a perfect date; I was just looking at your face.”

Bucky laughs, pink tingeing his cheeks. “You’re welcome to look whenever you want,” he says.

“Oh, I’m gonna,” Darcy says. “And I have been. And I’m not at all sorry.”

They finish eating and get moving, knowing it’s only going to get busier, and they both want to see what they can before it’s too crowded. They walk through the Mouse House and Butterfly Garden (Darcy gets the best picture of a butterfly landing on Bucky’s peony tattoo) before swinging into the World of Reptiles.

“‘Please tell me you had a poison dart frog phase as a child,” Darcy says as they stare at the bright blue frog. It’s crowded, so Bucky’s standing behind her, peering over her shoulder. “This is a universal experience for grade school kids in America. Don’t lie.”

Bucky laughs, putting his hands on her shoulders and resting his chin on top of her head to get a better view. “You know, I hadn’t remembered that until you said that, but I vaguely remember my class going wild for poison dart frogs,” Bucky says. “Did we all have Egyptian, poison dart frog, and Bop-It phases?”

“Oh my god, yes!”

They hit the Himalayan Highlands next, and Darcy makes an alarming gasping wheeze noise at the red pandas.

“They’re so cute, it physically hurts me,” Darcy says, making Bucky laugh. “That face! That tail!”

The snow leopard enclosure is so busy that she’s tempted to ask to sit on Bucky’s shoulders, but thankfully space opens up and she can worm her way through. She absolutely does not have the balance for sitting on shoulders.

They loop over to Tiger Mountain, to World of Birds (which they skip because it’s way too busy), then the Aquatic Bird House and Sea Aviary (an unnecessarily long name in her opinion, but penguins! PUFFINS!), then on to Birds of Prey because owls, obviously.

“If this weren’t a family venue, I’d absolutely lift up my shirt and show the owl its tattooed brethren,” Darcy says. A woman near them looks scandalized at the prospect of Darcy flashing the owls. “I’m not doing it, ma’am. Obviously.” The woman turns quickly around. Bucky’s covering his mouth to avoid laughing at the woman.

“You’d think New Yorkers wouldn’t be fazed by flashing, honestly,” Bucky says, taking her hand as they move around the enclosures.

“You really would,” Darcy says, squeezing his hand.

They make their way to the Madagascar exhibit, their last of the day. They’ve been here long enough that her feet are starting to hurt a bit, and she’s definitely going to need to eat again soon, but she is so not complaining.

Darcy loves watching the lemurs jump from tree to tree and gasps when they get to the Coquerel's sifaka.

“It’s a Zoboomafoo!” she says. “Oh my god, I just got punched in the face with nostalgia.”

“I’m going to have the theme song stuck in my head for the rest of the day,” Bucky says, though he’s smiling at the lemur and sounds delighted.

“Yesss,” Darcy says. “I should make that your ringtone.”

Bucky laughs. “Go wild. I’m changing our Wi-Fi network to Animal Junction,” he says. “Come here. We need a picture with Zoboo.”

Darcy turns and leans her back against his front, his arm snaking around her waist. She holds her phone out in front of her, catching a lemur perfectly behind them. She takes a few, particularly fond of the one where Bucky’s glancing down at her with a very soft look on his face.

They spend a lot of time with the lemurs before it gets a bit too crowded. Darcy’s anxiety isn’t a fan of crowds, and judging by the way Bucky’s hand tightens in hers when they get to a busy area, she has a feeling he’s in a similar boat.

They stop at the zoo store because Darcy is a consumer, and she can accept that. She loves tchotchkes, and she’s not ashamed. She grabs a few postcards (Jane and Thor love postcards) and a stuffed fennec fox, because has she mentioned this is the best experience of her life? Bucky tries to buy it for her but she flat out refuses.

“You bought the tickets! And set up the fennec fox playdate! If anything, I should be buying that,” she says, motioning to the magnets in his hands.

“You bought lunch,” Bucky argues. “Zoo food isn’t cheap.”

“I stand by my opinion,” Darcy says. “But I’ll accept your compromise.”

“Very big of you,” Bucky teases.

Darcy’s usually a big browser, but she tries to make it quick. No need for Bucky to know the perils of shopping with her yet, though he seems perfectly fine to peruse with her.

“Are you a magnet fiend?” Darcy asks as they pay, watching as the cashier bags Bucky’s purchases, which are ninety percent magnets.

“I like to stick them on my arm,” Bucky says. She stares, not sure if he’s serious. He grins. “I’m not joking. I can’t tattoo metal, and I can’t paint it, so, magnets.”

“I adore that,” Darcy says, grinning widely as Bucky slaps a poison dart frog to his metal bicep. “This has been the absolute best day for many reasons, and this is definitely included.”

Bucky looks a bit surprised but absolutely delighted at that, kissing her deeply as soon as they’re away from the cashier. She doesn’t think that’ll ever get old.

He takes her hand again as they walk to the subway station, their shopping bags in his other hand.

“I know it’s been a long day, but how do you feel about dinner?” Bucky asks.

“Overwhelmingly positive,” Darcy says. “What are you thinking?”

“Chinese?”

“I’m on board.”

Chapter Text

Darcy texts Jane from the restaurant’s table while Bucky’s using the bathroom. She lets her know they’re getting dinner and sends a picture of the two of them in front of the Coquerel's sifaka lemur. WE FOUND ZOBOO!!!!! The picture she sends isn’t the one where Bucky’s staring down at her—that feels more intimate than she’s interested in sharing—but one where they’re both smiling widely.

Darcy also sends Bucky all her pictures from the day (there are a lot) before looking at the menu. She looks up and grins when Bucky sits down across from her. They’re at a small, two-person table, their knees bumping under the tiny tabletop.

“This is a good one,” Bucky says when he scrolls through the pictures she sent, turning his phone to show her the one he means. It’s one of a man staring at her ass and Bucky flipping him off behind her back. Darcy cackles. Bucky’s grinning. “I didn’t realize you’d seen that.”

“Yeah, I’m particularly fond of that one,” she says. “Speaking of pictures. I haven’t forgotten that you owe me Halloween flapper pics, mister. I know Jane sent you the memes about my family, so hand ’em over.”

“You think I’m embarrassed, but I’m not,” Bucky says, making a few swipes on his phone before handing it to her. “I definitely have the legs for it.”

He really, really does. His long hair is styled in ’20s-style curls (as far as she can tell, at least), and he’s wearing a deep blue flapper dress. Steve is next to him in a short blond wig and a red dress.

“This is the absolute best. And you really do have the legs for it, my god,” she says. Bucky chuckles. “Is that a sea leg sleeve?” she asks.

“Yeah, it is,” Bucky says, reaching over to tap on the screen and zoom in. It’s hard to see with the picture’s shadows, but she’s pretty sure she sees some coral, part of a whale shark, and at least a couple tentacles. “I’d show you, but I think they prefer if we keep our pants on here.”

“I mean, if they see you, they may change their minds,” Darcy says. Bucky snorts. “We’ll get your pants off another time.”

“God willing,” Bucky teases.

“Oh, she’s willing,” Darcy says. “She wouldn’t do me dirty like that.”

Bucky laughs, and he’s still laughing when their waiter comes to take their orders. Darcy orders first while he gets his giggles under control.

When the waiter leaves, Darcy says, “You know, it’s six-thirty. We’re like an hour away from being early bird special people.”

“In fairness to us,” Bucky says, “we were out until past midnight last night.”

“You’re really just making us sound old,” Darcy says. “But I seriously wonder when I went from staying out until two a.m. every other night to going to bed at eight because I walked too far.”

“I don’t know, but whenever it was, it hit me too,” Bucky says. “I need three days to recover from concerts now. When I was twenty-one, I could stay out until two and then wake up at seven for work. Now I feel like I’m dying.”

Darcy laughs. “Same, honestly,” she says. “Still, I’m glad you suggested dinner. I was ready to run over that kid that was blocking the hot dog cart.”

Bucky laughs. “I would have been right behind you,” he says. “Also I’m selfish. I wanted to spend more time with you.”

Darcy grins, bumping her knee into his under the table. “You’re not gonna hear me complain,” she says. She pokes his hand where it’s resting on the table until he flips it over, twining his fingers with hers. Her phone buzzes on the table a few times, Jane’s name flashing over the screen as a few texts come through. She makes out !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! before the screen turns black.

“I sent her the picture of us with Zoboomafoo,” Darcy says. “She’s a big fan. We watch it sometimes when we need to relax.”

“Steve and I do that with The Magic School Bus,” Bucky says. “I don’t know how we stumbled onto it, but it’s on Netflix.”

Darcy gasps. “I can’t believe I never thought to look for The Magic School Bus!” she says. “When I was a kid, I had a very irrational fear of people getting into my bloodstream thanks to one of those episodes.”

“You know, that’s fair,” Bucky says. “They could easily become nightmare material.”

Their food arrives relatively quickly since there aren’t many other customers. Darcy’s never been here before, so she’s thrilled to find out the food’s great. She and Bucky share broccoli beef, chicken chow mein, and sweet and sour chicken. She’s also thrilled that Bucky isn’t against family style eating. Ian would act affronted if she dared suggest they share, so Darcy, Thor, and Jane would share a few dishes while Ian guarded his box of ginger pork. Looking back, she has no idea how she didn’t laugh in his face more.

They take the subway back to her neighborhood, and her building is far enough away from the stop that they have some time to walk. Bucky wraps his arm around her shoulders as they walk, and she snakes hers around his waist. The sun is just starting to set, and there are few enough people out that they don’t have to rush to avoid blocking foot traffic.

When they get to her building, she backs him up against the side of the entrance staircase before he can even say anything, pressing her lips against his. He’s on board immediately, hands tight on her waist as he pulls her even closer. She’d love, love to invite him up, but her tattoo is just a day old, and he’d given her specific instructions about not getting it sweaty and gross. Also Jane and Thor are upstairs, and she’d rather do sexy shit with him without people in the next room.

Bucky seems less concerned about even being indoors, kissing his way across her jaw and down her throat, biting down where her neck meets her shoulder. She gasps, fingernails digging into his back. That just seems to spur him on, a rumbling sound coming from deep in his chest. The only reason she doesn’t start grinding against him right then and there is the car that honks as it drives by, jerking them both back to the present.

They stay pressed together, Bucky laying a gentle kiss to her throat before straightening, resting his forehead against hers. They stand like that for a few minutes, until Darcy eventually clears her throat.

“Today was, uh, fantastic?” she says. Bucky grins, leaning back a bit so he can actually see her. “Thank you. Again. I know you said to stop saying that, but I had one more in me.”

Bucky laughs. “Yeah, I’d rank it as the best first date I’ve had,” he says.

“Since it lasted like eight hours, I think it probably qualifies as a second also, maybe even a third,” she says. “I should probably go inside before I decide to do some very third date things.”

Bucky laughs again, but he has that look in his eyes again that makes things low in her body tighten. “You should definitely go inside before I do things against my own aftercare instructions,” he says.

Darcy kisses him again before forcing herself to step back. “I don’t believe in the don’t call for three days crap, so I’ll talk to you tomorrow?” she says.

Bucky takes a couple steps and kisses her again, hands framing her face. It’s over too soon, but it still leaves her breathless. “Please do,” he says.

He watches as she walks up the stairs to the building’s front door, watches her slip inside, and meets her eyes until the elevator doors close in front of her. She slumps back against the elevator wall, letting out a whoosh of air.

“Girl, you’re fuuuucked,” she mutters under her breath, and she means that in the absolute best way.

It’s a good possibility that Jane and Thor saw her and Bucky, but there’s also a good chance they’re taking advantage of the alone time in the apartment, so when Darcy walks in the front door, she shouts, “I have zoo postcards!” Just in case they’re naked in the living room.

Jane skids out from the kitchen, taking her in. “And one hell of a hickey,” she says.

Darcy’s hand flies up to the side of her neck before she can stop herself. “You mind your business,” Darcy says. “Do you want your postcards or not?”

“Yes, please,” Jane says, reaching out. Darcy rolls her eyes and digs into the zoo bag, pulling out a stack of postcards. “Yesss! Thor, zoo postcards!”

“Zoo postcards?” Thor calls back excitedly, his head popping out from his and Jane’s bedroom.

“Yep,” Darcy says. “We went to the zoo. And! And and and!” She pulls out her phone, pulling up the pictures Bucky sent of her playing with the fennec fox. She turns her phone around, showing Jane who gasps and snatches it from her.

“You got to play with a fennec fox?” she squeals. Thor comes jogging down the hall, stopping behind Jane to peer at the screen. “Oh my god, this is the cutest thing I have ever seen!”

“I knoooow,” Darcy says. “I couldn’t properly speak for like a half-hour. I had to eat half a cheeseburger before I could truly articulate anything.”

“Marry him. Right now,” Jane says. Darcy laughs. “I’m only half-kidding. Withdraw some money from that sneaky savings account and fly to Vegas.”

“Sneaky savings account?” Thor asks.

“The one where I squirrel away money from my parents,” Darcy says. “Just in case.”

“Ah, yes,” Thor says.

“I’m not going to marry Bucky after our first date,” Darcy says.

“Is it really your first date though? It was so long it should probably count for two,” Jane says.

“Plus your impromptu dinner with him last night,” Thor says.

“And the time before that when you ran into him at Roxy’s and stayed,” Jane says.

“Okay, I’m not going to marry him after our potentially fourth date,” Darcy says.

“Party pooper,” Jane says.

“You and Thor have been together for like three years. Do I harass you about marriage?” Darcy asks.

“No,” Jane says with a sigh, then looks thoughtfully over at Thor. “Is that—we should probably have a conversation about that at some point? Right?”

“I agree,” Thor says musingly. “A timely discussion.”

“Oh my god,” Darcy says. “Okay, changing the subject.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out the stuffed fennec fox she bought. “Look at this!”

“Aw,” Jane says, bonking it on the nose.

“And he didn’t even tease me for being an adult buying a stuffed animal,” Darcy says.

Jane leans around her and mouths marriage material! at Thor, who laughs.

“Just for that, no pictures of the puffins,” Darcy says, taking her things to her room.

“What? Come on!” Jane whines.

“No puffins!”

Darcy eventually sends Jane the puffin pictures, but not until she and Thor have already gone to bed, so she can’t enjoy them until the morning. She snuggles down in bed, the stuffed fennec fox on the nightstand next to her, and it takes her a while to stop grinning. She eventually falls asleep to the thoughts of lemurs, fennec foxes, and Bucky’s damn good kissing.

Since there are a couple weeks before classes start and she doesn’t have to work for a few more days, Darcy lets herself sleep in until around ten a.m., which is when her body decides it’s time to get up. Her natural sleep cycle tends to be around one a.m. to nine or ten, and a lifetime of getting up for school at six has been rough. So waking up on her own a little after ten just feels luxurious. She stretches, blindly grabbing for her phone to check the time. She grins when she sees the Instagram notification.

Bucky has posted a few of their zoo pictures and tagged her in them. There’s a shot of the red pandas, the penguins, one of her sitting on the ground with the fennec fox (she still can’t believe that’s a real thing that happened to her), and one of the two of them in front of the tigers. Bucky’s pressing a smacking kiss to her temple, her mouth is open wide in laughter, and the tiger behind them looks more unimpressed than she’s ever seen a tiger look.

Darcy grins and taps the little heart icon before commenting That tiger looks 100% done with our bullshit. She closes Instagram and checks her texts. Her coworker Henry wants to swap a shift with her, which she says is fine with her. There’s also one from an unknown number with a picture message attached.

The text says Bucky’s new background, and the picture attached is of a phone with the background set as the picture of the two of them in front of the lemurs, Bucky looking softly down at her. Her heart does a funny little flutter at that.

I’m guessing this is Natasha? she sends back, saving the number as Natasha before she even gets a response.

You’re guessing correctly. comes a few seconds later. It’s nice to be right.

Jane’s doing a full summer of classes, and Thor’s picked up more shifts at the yoga studio, so Darcy has the apartment to herself for a few hours. She takes advantage by making popcorn, putting on Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, and basking in the air conditioning. That’s one of the perks about her parents giving her money for housing; she, Jane, and Thor can afford a place with AC that doesn’t go out on them if it gets above eighty degrees.

She makes it through most of the movie before her phone rings, Bucky’s name showing on the screen. Darcy grins and answers.

“Go ahead, caller. You’re on the air!”

There’s a brief pause, then a huff of laughter. “Between you and Sam, I’ll never have a peaceful phone call, will I?” he teases.

“I should have him record my voicemail message,” Darcy says. “Really confuse everyone.”

“I miss when mocking him was the plan,” Bucky says wistfully.

Darcy laughs. “I promise not to abandon that,” she says.

“I suppose that’s something,” Bucky says, though she can tell by his voice that he’s teasing. “I have a few minutes between clients and figured I’d call.”

“I’m glad you did,” Darcy says, snuggling down into the corner of the couch. “Jane and Thor were very impressed with the fennec fox encounter. And the size of my hickey.”

Bucky bursts into laughter. “Oops?” he says. Darcy snorts. “That didn’t sound remorseful at all, did it?”

“Not even a little bit,” Darcy says. “I’m not complaining. Besides, Jane left enough hickeys on Thor to look like a necklace once. Right before his monthly family dinner.”

“With the father that doesn’t like her?”

“Bingo,” Darcy says. “Thor didn’t care at all, and his mom and brother thought it was hilarious, so whatever.”

“I would love to be a fly on the wall there.”

“God, right?” Darcy says. “How’s your day going?”

“Good. I just tattooed matching butterflies on three guys’ asses,” Bucky says, a grin in his voice.

“Oh my god,” Darcy says. “Did they lose a bet? Was it a friendship tattoo?”

“A bit of both,” Bucky says. “They were drunk and made a ‘solemn brotherly oath,’ which apparently count even if you make them while drinking more vodka in a night than most people do in a year.”

“I feel like I’ve been underutilizing the drunken oath,” Darcy says.

“Same. Imagine what I could have gotten Sam and Steve to do?” Bucky says. Someone, sounds like Steve, calls Bucky’s name. “Sorry, one sec, sweetheart.” She’s not going to get tired of that anytime soon. “Yeah?” Bucky calls back. “Okay. Sorry, Darcy, my next client’s here. If you’re free tomorrow, want to come on down for my lunch hour around one?”

“Absolutely,” Darcy says. “Does anyone have food allergies? I’m getting my baking on today.”

“Sam can’t have pecans, but that’s it,” Bucky says.

“Pecans are gross anyway,” Darcy says. “See you then.”

“See you then,” Bucky says. “Bye, doll.”

“Bye.”

She needs to come up with a term of endearment for him. Something not weird like Sandy calling Danny stud in Grease. Ick. Or her mom calling her dad pumpky pie. Even ickier.

After her movie’s over, she puts on her showtunes playlist and gets to baking. She has the last of a jar of molasses she wants to use, so molasses cookies it is. She’s just gotten them in the oven when her phone buzzes over and over, multiple texts coming through one after the other. She closes her eyes briefly, gritting her teeth. The only burst texters she knows are her family. They think each sentence needs its own separate text, so she’ll often wake up to fifty plus texts in the family group chat.

It looks like they’re all from her brother this time, and when she sees what they say, she can’t help but laugh.

My tires have been flat every morning this week!

I assumed they were just cheap and I needed to buy new ones.

But no!

This morning I come down and see this!

This!

Attached is a close up picture of the side of his Mercedes’s tire, and it has a dozen metal forks sticking out of it, prongs embedded in the tread. Darcy’s grinning wildly. She saves the picture.

How do you even get a fork into a tire?!

And you know, that’s a fair question. With some considerable upper body strength, Darcy would guess.

Who does that?!

What type of petty, immature child would do that?!

Darcy doesn’t respond, because all she has today would be something petty and immature. That’s when her mom chimes in.

Oh my god!

What did the police say?

Was the person caught on your garage’s camera?

That’s actually another good question. Darcy would like to know if she needs to bail Natasha out soon.

The camera caught nothing! John sends back.

Absolutely nothing!

What’s the point of a secure garage if it’s not secure?

I demanded a refund, but they haven’t answered me yet.

Fucking ridiculous.

I told them I’d sue, and the receptionist hung up on me!

Good for that receptionist, in Darcy’s opinion. Her family complains about the parking garage for a while longer, though she barely glances at the phone until after she’s put the next batch of cookies into the oven. That’s when the next picture comes. Darcy almost spits out the bite of cookie in her mouth.

It’s the trunk of John’s Mercedes, and it’s filled with bright yellow paint at least an inch deep. Floating in the paint are what look like little tiny plastic boats with a middle finger drawn on the sail.

I JUST FOUND THIS!!! John sends.

WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!

Darcy has to lean against the counter for support as she laughs, watching as incensed texts from her mom, dad, and John get more and more agitated. They’re good at winding themselves up. They also won’t notice if Darcy doesn’t text back (she rarely does), so she gets to just watch and enjoy. She takes a screenshot or two, saves the pictures, and texts Jane.

So I’m guessing you gave Natasha John’s name and address?

She doesn’t get an answer for another hour when Jane’s class gets out. Jane sends a long string of laughing emojis before Just the name. She’s good.

Well, Jane’s not wrong.

Darcy walks into Avengers Tattoo the next day a little before one, a container full of molasses cookies in her hands. She’s not surprised to see Natasha sitting behind the reception desk, though Clint sitting criss-cross on top of it is more unexpected.

“Hi,” Darcy says.

“Hey!” he says brightly when he sees it’s her. Then his gaze falls on the cookies, his eyes gleaming.

Natasha rolls her eyes and jabs him with her elbow. “Hi, Darcy,” Natasha says. “He’s just finishing up.”

“Okay,” Darcy says, walking up to the desk. She shakes the container. “Molasses fans?”

“Cookie fans,” Clint says, making grabby hands at her. Darcy laughs and opens the container, letting him grab a few cookies. Natasha shakes her head fondly as she grabs two for herself.

“Thank you,” Natasha says to Darcy.

“Oh, yeah,” Clint says, mouth already full. “‘Fanks! These are good!”

“Thank you,” Darcy says. “I started as a stress baker and turned into an I-really-like-sugar baker.”

Natasha grins. “I’ll make you a beef stroganoff if you make me a bird’s milk cake.”

“Deal,” Darcy says instantly, holding out her hand. Natasha takes it and shakes it firmly.

“Well, that looks ominous,” Bucky says, walking up to them.

“We’re making a cooking deal,” Darcy says. “No blood pact yet.”

“That’s a relief,” Bucky teases. He wraps his arm around Darcy when he reaches her, ducking down to kiss her. Clint wolf whistles, but Darcy just flips him off and kisses Bucky harder.

“Hi,” she says when they pull away.

“Hi,” he says, smiling down at her. “My client’s just putting his pants on. I’m free after he pays.”

“Sounds good.”

Natasha and Clint leave to pick up the pizza, and Darcy gets out of the way while Bucky’s client, a fifty-something man with tattoos covering his arms, pays and sets up the next appointment. Bucky follows him to the door and flips the sign around to say Back in an Hour.

“Nick’s a great guy, but god, he says a lot of words,” Bucky says, making his way back to her.

Darcy laughs, stepping into the circle of his arms, wrapping her own around his waist. “You really should have invited someone else to lunch then,” she says. “I’m sure you’ve noticed I rarely shut up.”

“Mm, but I like you and your words in a way I definitely don’t like Nick,” he says, brushing his nose against hers before kissing her again. She tugs him closer, very on board with this, when the shop’s door chimes again. Bucky pulls back with a sigh, kissing her on the nose before moving until she’s tucked against his side, his arm around her shoulders.

“You really should lock the doors if you’re getting up to hanky panky,” Clint says, grinning over the three pizza boxes in his hands.

“Why? You and Natasha don’t,” Bucky says.

“It’s cute that you think that will embarrass me,” Clint says, putting the boxes down on the desk. “I am proud. I’d get a skywriter to write Clint Gets to Have Sex With Natasha if she wouldn’t murder me for it.”

“As long as you remember the murder part,” Natasha says, locking the shop door behind them. She has a two-liter in each hand.

“I would never forget the murder part,” Clint says.

“You’re definitely the strangest couple I know,” Bucky says. He disentangles himself from Darcy enough to take her hand, tugging her toward the back room. “Steve and Sam are off today, so it’s just the four of us.”

“Okay. Whoa...this is the coolest breakroom I’ve ever seen,” Darcy says. She’s telling the truth too. The walls are painted a deep emerald green, which Darcy is a huge fan of. There’s a watermelon pink couch along one wall, a console with a TV across from it, and a dark round table in the corner surrounded by chairs.

“Thanks,” Natasha says, coming in after them and making her way to the table. “I didn’t really give them a choice on decor.”

“That’s fine with me,” Bucky says. “You’ve seen Steve’s and my apartment.”

Natasha winces. “Yes, yes I have.”

Darcy, Bucky, Clint, and Natasha settle around the table, passing around plates, glasses, and soda. Darcy takes a slice of sausage and a Hawaiian, and Bucky snags one of the dessert pieces from the third smaller box and puts it on her plate.

“Unless you call dibs, the two of them will demolish that when you’re not paying attention,” Bucky says.

Darcy snorts. “Fair,” she says, then looks at Natasha. “By the way. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about my brother’s tires being forked and his trunk filled with yellow paint?”

“Nope,” Natasha says.

“Uh huh,” Darcy says wryly.

“Do you have pics?” Clint asks eagerly.

“Yes,” Darcy says, grinning. “And a group text of him freaking out if you want to see that too.”

Darcy pulls up the pictures and turns the phone so he can see, Bucky leaning over to look too. They both burst out laughing, then laugh even harder when they zoom in on the boats with the middle finger sails.

“Yeah, it’s strange,” Darcy says, looking at Natasha. “His tires were flat seven mornings in a row, then today they were stabbed with forks. Security cameras caught nothing.”

“Huh, weird,” Natasha says. The best poker face Darcy has even seen.

“She knows about you trashing Hydra’s studio,” Bucky says. “In case you’re playing the ‘I would never!’ card.”

Natasha does look a bit surprised at that, but she ends up just shrugging. “And I’d do it again,” Natasha says, then looks back at Darcy with a grin. “Hope your parents lock their garage. It’s fun when they think that’s a good deterrent.”

Darcy laughs. In the past she may have been offended or worried, but she’s beyond caring at this point. Her parents make their own beds, and she’s no longer interested in trying to get them to change.

The subject changes when Clint tells a story about Kate, the woman from the fennec fox encounter, who turns out to be Clint’s best friend. Apparently she got her rude rich parents (Darcy’s seeing some similarities, yes) to pay for a local shelter’s costs for an entire year, convincing them it’s a wonderfully braggable charitable contribution that would look great on their taxes. Darcy wishes her parents would do that. They’re more interested in donating to things that put their name on art exhibits or things like that.

Bucky hooks his ankle around her chair leg when they’re done eating, sliding her closer until their chairs are next to each other. He wraps his arm around her shoulders, and she leans against him, half on his chest. She reaches up, threading her fingers with his where they’re hanging down near her shoulder. Natasha has a small smile on her lips, but Clint is much less subtle, a wide grin blooming. Bucky seems content to ignore him, but Darcy’s happy to make a face.

They chat for the rest of Bucky and Natasha’s lunch hour, Bucky occasionally pressing kisses to the top of her head or her temple. She gets that bubbly feeling each time, but she’s also settling into it. It no longer feels like a shock; it feels like something that is natural for them, almost as if they should have been doing this all along. She tries not to get ahead of herself and think about how this could be something she’d love longterm, but, well, she’s good at getting ahead of herself.

Bucky sighs when Natasha glances at her phone and tells them their lunch break is almost over. “You’re both welcome to stay,” Natasha says, “but hanging out in the break room isn’t exactly fun.”

“I have to get going anyway,” Darcy says, disentangling herself from Bucky, grinning at his pout. “Thor’s spending the next couple of days with his family, so Jane and I are having a girls’ night.”

“I love girls’ nights,” Clint says happily. Darcy raises her eyebrows. “Natasha is really good at pedicures, I love gossiping and eating pizza, and Kate gets these face masks that make me feel like a pampered zookeeper, and I’m not ashamed at all.”

“Your girls’ nights do sound fun,” Darcy says. “We’re thinking about an alarming amount of pasta, orange soda, and a movie. Last time we watched Game of Bones, the Game of Thrones porn parody, so maybe we’ll check out the Star Wars one this time.”

“Your girls’ nights sound fun,” Bucky says.

Darcy grins. “We invite Thor sometimes. We’ll bring you to the next coed one.”

“You’re a doll,” Bucky says with a smile, kissing her temple.

Chapter Text

Darcy would love to just spend every lunch hour Bucky has with him at the shop, but she does need to actually go to work, and her summer classes are starting up. She makes it to the shop two more times that week, once having lunch with Bucky and Steve (who could not stop staring at them and smiling widely), and once spending the hour with Bucky alone. They’d been more or less connected at the lips the whole time, and Sam had had to knock on the break room door twice before they heard him say Bucky’s next client was there. The only reason they still had clothes on was her still-healing tattoo. Sam had given her a very knowing look as she’d walked out the door, but joke’s on him; she’s not embarrassed at all of being found in Bucky’s lap.

The campus bookstore has a small rush of people coming in for the summer session textbooks, but nothing like the beginning of the year, so Darcy doesn’t mind as much. Most of her coworkers are off for the summer though, so she ends up doing the work of two or three employees sometimes, which she isn’t a fan of.

Bright spots are when her breaks match up with Bucky’s and they can video chat while she sits in the breakroom, and then once her classes start up the next week, when Bucky’s lunch hour overlaps with her time between classes.

“How’s the day going?” Bucky asks. He’s video calling her from the break room of Avenger Tattoo, and she’s sitting on a bench in a shaded area of campus, watching the crows go nuts over an abandoned bag of fish and chips.

“It’s fine,” Darcy says with a shrug and a bite of her sandwich.

Bucky narrows his eyes. “Is today the bad writing class?” he asks.

And, well, she’d been trying not to complain, but—“Yes, god, fuck that guy,” she says.

A woman walking by, digging through her purse raises her fist and says, “Fuck yeah.”

Darcy laughs and Bucky grins.

“Seriously, though. The dude idolizes Jack Kerouac and Into the Wild and will not shut the fuck up about ‘the great American novel’ as if that’s the only point of writing,” Darcy says. “Rate My Professors was absolutely underselling how obnoxious this guy is.”

“And you have to take this class?” Bucky asks.

“Yes, unfortunately,” Darcy says with a sigh. “I need another writing credit, and it’ll fuck up my schedule for next year if I drop it.”

“I don’t suppose you could write about murdering the great American novel?” Bucky suggests.

Darcy snorts. “I’ll see if I can fit it in somewhere. We have a bunch of short weekly prompts to answer, so I guess I’ll see how he grades soon,” Darcy says. “I wrote about why McCandless sucks for this week’s prompt.”

Bucky barks out a laugh. “Hey, when you’re right, you’re right,” he says. There’s a noise on Bucky’s end and he looks over the top of his phone to the break room door, nodding to whoever is there. “Sorry, sweetheart, my piercing appointment is here. We still on for dinner after your class?”

“Yeah, I’ll call you when I’m out,” she says. “Enjoy stabbing people.”

“Not as much as I enjoy stabbing you,” Bucky jokes, before a loud “What the fuck?!” comes from his side of the call.

“Stop eavesdropping, Sam!” Darcy calls, seeing Sam sticking his head into the break room.

“You guys are fucking weird, man. Just flirt like normal people!” Sam yells.

Bucky turns the phone away from Sam, laughing. “Have a good class. Give ’em hell.”

“I’ll do my best,” she says.

Professor Brill is as obnoxious as always, spending the first twenty minutes of class waxing poetic about F. Scott Fitzgerald. Darcy is itching to bring up that he plagiarized his wife, Zelda, and was known to leave cuts and bruises, but maybe that’s not an argument to have with someone in charge of her grade. Instead, she bites her tongue and waits out the weird Fitzgerald-loving soliloquy.

Class is long and boring with less writing and more talking than she usually enjoys in a writing class, but that’s probably why only the annoying professor’s class had had any room in it when she enrolled. The group work part is her least favorite. She’s partnered with the most exhausting woman who cries at the mere perception of criticism, but then also tries to tear Darcy’s work apart.

By the time class is over, they’ve barely managed to talk about last week’s assignment and only briefly touched on the next one, and she’s gotten back her anti-McCandless paper (B-, which could be worse, but she’s still irritated). All she really wants is a Bucky hug...and maybe some food.

She’s walking out of the building, about to pull out her phone and call Bucky to set up dinner plans when she hears a loud throat clearing. She looks up and sees Bucky about twenty feet away, leaning against the shaded bench with a bag of takeout next to him. Darcy’s stomach does a happy little flip, her irritation fading to the background. She grins widely, crossing the distance between them quickly and all but jumping into his arms. He hugs her tightly, lifting her off her feet a tiny bit, and kisses her temple.

“What are you doing here?” she asks when he sets her back down. Her class partner is not subtly eyeing Bucky as she walks by. Darcy gives her a pointed look, and she looks away quickly, cheeks red.

“Piercing appointment went quick and I wanted to surprise you,” Bucky says with a shrug as if it’s no big deal, though he looks pleased. He picks up the bag of takeout. “I brought pad thai.”

“You are my absolute favorite person,” Darcy says, looping her arm through his. “Wanna eat in the park?”

“You’re reading my mind, doll,” Bucky says.

The perk of doing summer classes is the campus isn’t nearly as busy as during the rest of the year, so they don’t have to walk through a crush of students leaving as they head to Washington Square Park. The park, on the other hand, is busy on an early summer evening, so it’s a few minutes until they find one of the little bistro tables in the shade.

“Mm, this is so good,” Darcy says through a bite of noodles. “Where’d you get this?”

“The place by the bus stop we wanted to try,” Bucky says. “I wanted to get it somewhere close so it didn’t have time to get cold.”

“You are ridiculously sweet. I can’t even handle it,” Darcy says. “How’d your day go? Any fainters?”

“No, thankfully,” Bucky says. “We had a drunk stumble in thinking it was his apartment lobby though.”

“Oh, fun,” Darcy says. “How’d that go?”

“Steve dealt with it. You know him, got the guy talking about his life dreams and managed to get him into a cab,” Bucky says.

“How the hell does he do that?” Darcy asks, thinking of the angry, shrieking woman outside the shop who ended up laughing and sharing Steve’s lunch instead of shouting at her cheating boyfriend. “Is that his superpower?”

“Probably,” Bucky says. “Natasha’s is breaking and entering.”

Darcy laughs. “John still hasn’t found out how his car got vandalized.”

“And he never will,” Bucky says, grinning. “Better men have tried.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Darcy says. “I haven’t heard anything from my parents about property damage yet, so either she hasn’t struck yet, or it was subtle.”

“She won’t tell me either way,” Bucky says, shaking his head. “The nerve.”

“The audacity,” Darcy says.

They lapse into comfortable silence as they eat, Bucky’s ankle hooked around hers under the table. A few people from Darcy’s classes or work wave as they pass. Her coworker Henry waggles his eyebrows at them, making Darcy snort with laughter.

When they’re just people-watching, their food finished, Bucky clears his throat. She looks at him, eyebrows raised, waiting. “Are you free for lunch Thursday?” Bucky asks, fingers tapping against the table.

“Yeah, I’m out of class at 11:30,” she says. “Why does that make you nervous?” She looks down at his tapping fingers, which he stills, looking a bit sheepish.

“Well, we leave to take Becca to Stanford Friday, and she really wants to meet you before she goes,” Bucky says. “I know two weeks into dating is early to meet someone’s mom and sister, so if you’re not comfortable—”

“I absolutely want to meet your mom and sister,” Darcy interrupts. “As long as you told them nice things. Wait, do they know we met because you were piercing my nipples?”

Bucky chokes on his laugh. “No, no I didn’t tell them that,” he says. “I just told them I met you at work.”

“Can I tell them we met when you pierced my nipples?” Darcy teases. She wouldn’t actually, not at first meeting at least. Maybe a year in. But it makes Bucky laugh and relax a bit, which was the point anyway. “Are you fine with them meeting me?” Darcy asks.

“Yes,” Bucky says immediately, which feels pretty good to her. He leans forward, elbows resting on the table. “This isn’t something short-term to me. Cards on the table: I like you a lot, and I’m not expecting that to go away.”

“I’m not feeling very casually about it either,” Darcy says, reaching out for his hand. He gives it to her easily, lacing his fingers with hers. She presses a kiss to his fingers, making him smile softly. “I’d love to meet your mom and sister.”

It’s too hot to want to walk around the park, even if there is shade, so they take the subway back to Darcy’s apartment where there’s blessed AC. Jane’s still on campus, but Thor’s there and invites them to join him watching Planet Earth. Darcy’s a slut for nature documentaries, and it turns out Bucky is too. They curl up together on the couch, Thor lounging in the overstuffed pink chair.

Her eyes start feeling heavy in the “Ice Worlds” episode, and she nods off sometime during “Great Plains” with Bucky’s arm around her, her head resting on his chest. She wakes up during “Jungles,” sitting up a little and muttering, “Sorry.”

“You’re good,” Bucky says, kissing the top of her head. “You have work and school. You can nap.”

“Yeah, but I’d like to be conscious when you’re here,” Darcy says, yawning and settling back against him a bit more vertically.

It’s early evening when Bucky has to leave for an Avengers dinner/business meeting. He checks her tattoo before she leaves, just to see how it’s healing. He runs his thumb over the skin at her hip where she’s pulled up the side of her shirt, his eyes dark, before clearing his throat and telling her it looks like it’s doing well.

She walks him to the door and kisses him goodbye. As soon as the door is closed, she’s racing back to the living room, nearly tumbling into Thor’s chair when her toes catch the rug. Thor steadies her with a hand on her arm, his eyebrows raised.

“I’m meeting Bucky’s mom and sister Thursday!” she says, sitting down on the edge of the couch nearest to Thor’s chair. “And I need them to like me.”

“Everyone likes you,” Thor says.

“You’re sweet, but no, they absolutely do not,” Darcy says. “When have I ever made a good impression on parents? I tripped over your mother’s skirt and broke a family heirloom!”

“It was a hideous vase, and my mother doesn’t hold it against you at all,” Thor says.

“Your dad does!” Darcy says.

Thor grimaces. “Yes, well, he doesn’t count. He doesn’t like most people,” Thor says. “Jane’s mother loves you. She brings you up at least once during her Skype calls.”

Darcy can’t help but smile. Celine, Jane’s mother, thanks her almost every time they talk for making sure Jane does more than just study. Celine has also said she wants to beat up Darcy’s mom. Celine and Jane are very similar in certain ways.

“Celine doesn’t count,” Darcy says.

“I dare you to say that to her,” Thor says.

“Fuck no, do you think I’m insane?”

Thor grins. “That’s what I thought,” he says.

When Jane gets home, she gives Darcy the same opinion as Thor. She also says Darcy’s getting worked up because Ian’s parents had just sucked, which actually makes a lot of sense and calms her down a bit.

Classes and her job keep her busy for much of the rest of the week, so much so that she doesn’t see Bucky in person until he’s picking her up Thursday on his—

“Motorcycle?” Darcy asks, staring at where Bucky’s parked in front of her building. “How did you not say you’re a motorcycle guy?”

“I forgot, I guess,” Bucky says with a shrug. “I don’t ride it much anymore. Public transit here is too good to be dealing with traffic. Does it bother you?”

“Hell no,” Darcy says, reaching out for the extra helmet in his hands. “Gimme.” Bucky grins and hands it over. “I know nothing about motorcycles. What kind is it?”

“It’s a Triumph Bonneville,” Bucky says, adjusting the strap of Darcy’s helmet to make it tighter. “It was my dad’s. I got it when he died. I like to ride it when I’m visiting my mom since it makes her smile.”

Darcy says nothing. Bucky doesn’t mention his dad often, and she doesn’t want to push.

He glances down at her and smiles. “I also bring it so she can’t force me to take a bunch of stuff home.”

“What does she try to send you home with?” Darcy asks, grinning back at him.

“Mostly food, which fits in the saddlebags fine,” he says, jerking his thumb over his shoulder at the Triumph. “Sometimes she tries to get me to bring home things she doesn’t want anymore. Last time it was a big wooden box of fine silverware.”

“What?” Darcy asks, laughing.

“Yeah, that’s what I said,” Bucky says. He pulls a folded jacket out of one of the saddlebags and hands it to her. It’s lightweight and almost identical to the black one he’s wearing. “I borrowed Steve’s summer riding jacket for you. Much more lightweight and breathable than leather, but it’ll keep you from getting road rash if anything happens.”

“Oh, baller,” she says, pulling it on. Steve’s much wider in the shoulders than she is, but that helps accommodate her much bigger bust, so it’s not unbearably tight. “Thank you. I really didn’t want to wear leather and meet your mom and sister all sweaty. Oh! I forgot something. Be right back!”

Darcy dashes back inside to grab the small wrapped package she’d left on her bed: Becca’s going away gift. She’s back downstairs in less than a minute, handing it to Bucky.

“Will that fit?” she asks.

“Yeah,” Bucky says, sliding it into the saddlebag. “Do I want to know?”

“You’ll see,” Darcy says brightly.

Bucky huffs a laugh and straddles the Triumph, holding a hand out to help her get on, which she appreciates. She’s short, and balance isn’t one of her strong suits. She has ridden a motorcycle before though, so she’s not afraid of falling off in traffic, which is nice.

She wraps her arms around Bucky’s waist as the Triumph roars to life, and she sends a smile to one of her nosy neighbors looking out their window. Bucky pulls seamlessly into traffic, and Darcy’s not at all surprised to find he’s a good driver. Natasha, on the other hand, definitely seems like someone who’d be a speed demon.

It’s early enough that there’s not an impossible amount of traffic, so they make good time to Bucky’s mom’s neighborhood. Bucky pulls inside the gate in front of a cute little colonial house surrounded by flower beds. Darcy’s almost sad to get off the Triumph and wonders if she could get him to take her on a longer ride sometime. It also doesn’t hurt that he makes it look sexy as hell.

Bucky closes the gate then turns, grinning at her hair when she takes off her helmet. He runs his fingers through it to tame it a bit when he notices her biting her lip. He gently pokes it, making her snort, before he tilts her face up with his fingers under her chin.

“They’re going to love you,” he says. He kisses her softly before taking her hand, leading her up the short driveway to the front door. He knocks once before letting himself in. “It’s me!” he calls.

“Bucky bear!” someone shouts. A second later, a blonde girl rounds the corner, grinning widely when she sees Darcy. “I’m so glad he brought you! I was starting to believe you weren’t real!”

“You’ve seen pictures of her,” Bucky says, exasperated.

“Yeah, but Photoshop is a thing,” Becca says. “And you’ve been talking about her for long enough.”

“You’re such a brat,” Bucky says, shaking his head, though Darcy can see the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“It is nice to meet you,” Becca says to Darcy. “Roasting Bucky is just a lucky bonus.”

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Darcy says. “I’ll gladly take any funny stories and roasting topics.”

Bucky takes her jacket from her, putting it with his and the helmets in the coat closet.

“I already have to deal with Natasha texting Darcy pictures of me asleep and drooling, and now you too?” Bucky says, pulling Becca into a hug.

Becca grins, and cranes her neck around Bucky to see Darcy. “Can you forward me that?”

Darcy laughs. “Absolutely,” she says. Bucky lets Becca go with a huff. Darcy passes the wrapped gift to Becca. “Related. This is for you. A congrats and going away gift.”

“Ooh, thank you!” Becca says, grinning. “Can I open it now?”

“Wait for mom,” Bucky says, then looks at Darcy. “Is this parent appropriate?”

“Yes,” Darcy says, rolling her eyes. “What do you think I would get her?”

“I can get into sex shops by myself, you know,” Becca says.

Bucky groans. “I hate you,” he says, taking Darcy’s hand and pulling her past Becca and deeper into the house. “Ma, we’re here!”

The entrance leads to a bright and homey living room, a wide opening to the left that looks like it leads to the kitchen. A few seconds later, the woman Darcy recognizes from Bucky’s Instagram walks in from the kitchen, smiling widely. She hugs Bucky tightly, then pulls Darcy into a hug too. Bucky’s looking a bit embarrassed over his mother’s shoulder, but Darcy is a hugger through and through.

“Hello, Darcy. It’s wonderful to meet you,” she says. “Please call me Freddie. Winnifred sounds like I’m being yelled at by my mom, and Mrs. Barnes sounds like I’m being called into Bucky’s principal’s office.”

Darcy laughs while Bucky sighs loudly.

“You and Becca are conspiring. I see you,” he says, pointing between the two of them.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Freddie says. “Lunch is almost ready if you want to sit down in the dining room.”

“Do you need a hand?” Darcy asks.

“Nope, Becca already set the table,” Freddie says.

Bucky leads her through the kitchen and into the dining room on the other side. Becca follows, sitting down opposite Bucky and Darcy.

“I hope you like macaroni and cheese because she made enough to feed an army,” Becca says, then furrows her brows. “You’re not a vegetarian, are you? Because this definitely has prosciutto in it.”

“Don’t worry, I had an appalling amount of bacon for breakfast,” Darcy says. “I’d be a terrible vegetarian.”

“Me too. I tried for like a week in middle school when it was the fad, but I missed Mom’s burgers,” Becca says.

“And don’t you forget it,” Freddie says, walking in with a deep baking dish held with two oven mitts. She sets it onto the trivet in the middle of the table next to a big scooping spoon. “Feel free to dish up. I’m just grabbing the strawberry salad.”

“You should feel special,” Bucky says, handing her the serving spoon. “She only brings out the mac and cheese for special occasions.”

“Like you sister leaving home,” Darcy says pointedly as she scoops some pasta before passing Becca the spoon. “Not meeting me.”

“No, it’s totally for you,” Becca says cheerily. “I told her I’d have been fine with takeout.”

Freddie comes back in then, setting down a salad next to the mac and cheese. “Okay, it’s mixed greens, strawberries, almonds, feta, red onions, and a balsamic poppy seed dressing,” Freddie says. “I didn’t think to ask if you have nut allergies…”

“I don’t,” Darcy says. “That looks incredible. I’m judging my own salads now.”

Freddie’s smiling widely, and Darcy’s happy to realize her nerves died at some point between walking in the front door and scooping up mac and cheese. Jane’s probably right; she probably worked herself up because Ian’s parents sucked and her own parents really suck.

“Mm, this is fantastic, Mom,” Bucky says, Becca nodding in agreement.

Darcy takes a bite and nearly moans. “Oh my god,” she says as soon as she swallows. “Freddie, I’m moving in. Babe, I’m stealing your mom.”

Bucky snorts, but he’s grinning. “She’s also pseudo-adopted Steve, Sam, Natasha, Clint—”

“My friend Annie, Annie’s cousin, Annie’s cousin’s boyfriend,” Becca cuts in.

“I’m building an army,” Freddie says. “Rose Walker better watch out.”

“Rose goes to Ma’s church,” Bucky says while Becca laughs, “and is her sworn nemesis.”

“She sure is,” Freddie says, winking at Darcy. “And she’s going to regret getting on the bad side of Winnifred Barnes.”

Darcy grins, listening to Bucky and Becca share stories about Rose Walker, from bake sale transgressions to “accidentally” backing into the Barneses’ gate. She much prefers this feud over her mother’s feud with her neighbors for having the audacity to have clashing flowers in their garden.

After abusing Rose Walker, Freddie asks about Darcy’s classes, which sets off a round of abusing all the anti-choice politicians in New York.

“Since the FCC refuses to do anything about robocalling, we set up a robocall program to harass our least favorite state senators and congresspeople,” Darcy says, making Becca laugh loudly. “I’d feel bad for their employees, but if you’re choosing to work for someone who is pro-forced birth and says the poor deserve to starve, my sympathy is limited.”

“Hear fucking hear,” Becca says, leaning over the table to tap her glass against Darcy’s.

The topic changes to Becca going to Stanford, then to Freddie’s project at work (she’s a producer with HBO, which sounds so cool), to Bucky’s job (they’re thinking about bringing on an apprentice/office help but are still on the fence).

It’s comfortable and fun, and Darcy’s laughing way more than she thought she would. She figured it’s impossible for someone as awesome as Bucky to have anything other than an equally awesome family, and she’s thrilled to be proven right.

They’re done eating, lounging at the table with Bucky’s arm around Darcy (he’d moved his chair closer to her as soon as they finished their food), when Becca sits up straight and says, “I forgot! Darcy brought me a present!”

Before anyone can say anything, she’s up and out of the dining room, returning less than a minute later with the wrapped present.

“I love this wrapping paper,” Becca says, moving the gift back and forth so the iridescent space paper changes colors.

“My roommate’s an astrophysicist,” Darcy says. “We have a lot of space-themed stuff. And I love wrapping paper.”

“I do too,” Freddie says as they watch Becca tear into the package. “I’ll show you my hoard next time, after I’ve cleaned the room a bit.”

“Oh my god,” Becca says, eyes lighting up. She looks up at Darcy, looking delighted.

“What?” Freddie asks, leaning over to look, before she also laughs.

Becca turns the picture frame around to show Bucky. It’s a five-by-seven orante light pink picture frame she’d found at Homegoods, and inside is a picture of Bucky from when they went to the zoo. He’s only halfway facing the camera, looking over his shoulder with a horrified face at the tiger at the edge of the exhibit that was lifting its leg, about to pee on the wall right next to where Bucky was standing.

Bucky groans, rubbing a hand over his face, but she knows he doesn’t mean it. Becca turns the picture back around to look at it again.

“This is perfect. This is going on my dorm wall,” she says.

Darcy laughs. “I know Instagram exists, but I’m a fan of physical pictures,” she says. “I have an alarming amount of pictures in my room.”

“I love it,” Becca says. “Add me on Instagram, and I’ll send you all Bucky’s awkward teenage pictures.”

“No,” Bucky says, sounding pained.

“Yes,” Becca says. “Emo bangs, Tripp pants phase, and My Chemical Romance sweat bands.”

“Oh my god, I was just catapulted back to high school,” Darcy says. She turns to Bucky. “Are we old? Is that what’s happening? We’ve become the old geezers the youngins make fun of?”

“I’m afraid so,” Freddie says, grinning. “Don’t worry, in a few years the next generation will be laughing at their TikTok dances and recycled nineties trends. Did you see that bell bottoms and jelly sandals are back?”

“I can feel the blisters,” Darcy says, shuddering.

“I can smell the plastic,” Freddie says.

Bucky still has to pack, and Becca looks a little guilty when that’s brought up too, so they get ready to leave after quite a few hours. Darcy tries to help with dishes, but Freddie waves her off, telling her it’s all going in the dishwasher anyway. She does hand Bucky a large container of mac and cheese on their way out though.

“Mom, we’re leaving tomorrow. I don’t need leftovers,” Bucky says.

“They’re for Darcy, not you! You said she doesn’t always remember to bring her lunch at work!” Freddie says.

Darcy’s a bit touched, honestly, and thinks it’s adorable how Bucky’s ears get a little pink at that.

“Thank you,” Darcy says. “I may even let Jane and Thor try a bite. A small, tiny bite.”

“Make them grovel a bit first,” Freddie says. Darcy really likes Freddie.

“She’s learned the exact size that fits in the saddlebag,” Bucky says, shaking his head as they walk back to the motorcycle, Freddie standing on the porch and looking at the Triumph fondly. Bucky makes sure the container is tightly closed and slides it into the bag.

“I think it’s really cool, honestly,” Darcy says. “My mom only sends me home with concealer when she thinks the bags under my eyes are getting too big.” Bucky stares at her. “Oh, that’s one of those awkward things I blurt out, isn’t it?” Sometimes she’ll say things like that and suddenly realize just how different her parents are from average people.

“You can absolutely share my mom,” Bucky says. He leans around her to call to Freddie, still on the porch, “Darcy’s parents suck, so we’re co-opting you into her life!”

“Sounds good to me!” Freddie says. “Send me her birthday and special events!”

Darcy laughs, putting on her helmet. “So I have Thor’s mom, Jane’s mom, and now yours,” she says.

“Hm, good point. We need to find you a dad,” Bucky says. “Sam’s is a good dude. Natasha’s is a kind of weird and intense Russian dude, but he’ll threaten to break someone’s kneecaps for you if he likes you.”

“I genuinely have no idea what to say to that, but it explains a lot about Natasha,” she says.

Bucky climbs on the motorcycle, holding it steady while she swings her leg over it and settles behind him.

“Meet her mom and it’ll make even more sense,” Bucky says. He waves to Freddie who’s smiling at them, looking a little misty eyed at seeing Bucky on his father’s Triumph. “Bye Ma! See you tomorrow!”

“Thank you for everything!” Darcy calls.

“Anytime!”

Bucky slowly rolls out of the open gate, pausing just to use his metal arm to pull it closed behind them, then they’re off. It’s more crowded than when they’d left, but traffic is still moving so she doesn’t mind.

“We have got to take a longer ride sometime!” she calls into his ear at a stop light. He turns his head so she can make out the wide grin spreading over his face.

Since he’s going to be gone for a week, Darcy spends a good long while kissing him in front of her building when he drops her off. He doesn’t seem particularly interested in stopping, his arms tight around her, one spanning across the middle of her back, the other wrapped in her hair at the base of her neck. They earn a wolf whistle from one of Darcy’s neighbors, but it’s one of the cool lesbians down the hall, so she just waves over her shoulder at her before bringing her hand back to rest on the side of Bucky’s throat.

They eventually surface since Bucky does actually have to pack. He kisses her forehead before handing her the container of leftover mac and cheese.

“Have a good trip,” she says. “No shame in crying when you drop her off.”

“Oh, I will,” Bucky says. “She already knows. Ma’s probably gonna have her camera ready.”

Darcy laughs. “I like your family. They’re fun,” she says.

“They liked you too. Which is not at all surprising. Ma’s probably going to invite you to dinner at least once a week,” he says.

“I won’t complain at all,” she says. “I’ll bring cookies or something. I can’t cook well, but I can bake.”

“Careful or she’ll ask you to move in,” Bucky says. “I can’t decide if empty nest syndrome is going to hit her hard or if she’s going to be running through the house screaming she’s free. Probably a mix.”

“Well, it sounds like she has a lot of semi-adopted kids, so I’m sure she’ll survive,” Darcy says.

“Mm, true,” Bucky says. “Now go inside, or I’ll never go home and pack.”

“If you must,” Darcy says, giving him one last lingering kiss before taking her mac and cheese and heading inside. Bucky watches her through the glass door until the elevator closes.

Chapter Text

Bucky texts Darcy from the airport that morning. It’s a selfie of him looking exhausted next to Becca, also exhausted, and a very peppy looking Freddie. He writes Ma’s way too chipper this morning followed by Miss you already. She gets it between classes, along with a follow request from theusernamebeccaisnotavailable. Darcy approves it and follows back, seeing a bunch of pictures of Becca with friends and family. She texts Bucky a picture of the mac and cheese she’s eating between classes, saying If she keeps feeding me, she can be a morning person as much as she wants. Miss you too. They’re disgusting, she knows.

Thor and his brother are going with their parents to visit family in Europe, so Jane and Darcy have two weeks to themselves. They’re both busy with work and school Friday, the day Bucky leaves, so they just get a pizza to share with Thor, who has an early morning flight on Saturday. They spend Saturday being lazy, just watching TV and eating pizza leftovers (she, Jane, and Thor had demolished Freddie’s mac and cheese the day before).

Sunday is relaxing and homework, and then Monday through Thursday is a haze of school and work. Bucky texts often and calls when he can, but he, Freddie, and Becca are busy setting up her dorm, shopping, and exploring the area. He video calls on Thursday afternoon when Darcy’s home alone (Jane’s at her lab partner’s place working on a project) and Becca and Freddie are having a spa day.

“Hey sweetheart,” he says, eyes lighting up when he sees her.

“Hi babe,” she says, grinning. His usual scruff is looking a bit thicker. “Nice vacation beard. Five days is really too long without seeing your face.”

Bucky laughs, stroking the hair on his jaw. “Right back at you. I’ll call again sooner, but Ma and Becca might crash the call.”

“I guess I’ll be able to keep it PG,” Darcy says, sighing dramatically as if it were the biggest hardship. “I’d do a striptease now while it’s just us, but I’d rather do that for the first time in person instead of over videochat.”

The expression on Bucky’s face darkens at that, the tip of his tongue flicking out to lick his lips. “Yeah,” he says slowly, clearing his throat before continuing. “I don’t think I’d be able to handle being across the country and unable to touch you.”

“True,” she says with a dramatic sigh. “I guess a peeling tattoo isn’t exactly sexy either. But to be fair, it’s almost done.”

“Yeah?” Bucky says. It sounds like he’s trying to make his voice sound normal, but there’s still a bit of rasp there. “How’s it feeling?”

“A bit itchy, so I’ve been slapping it a bit,” she says. She stands, pulling the side of her shirt up so he can see the healing owl.

“It looks great. Good job,” Bucky says, eyes squinting a bit as he looks. “It does look like it’s toward the end of the peeling phase. Any pain, or just itching?”

“Just itching,” she says, dropping the hem of her shirt and sitting back down in front of her laptop. “What do you say, doc? Am I almost clear for duty?”

“It’s been a few weeks, you’ve been diligent with cleaning, and there’s no pain or signs of infection, so I’d say yeah, you’re good to go,” he says.

“And you’re back in five days,” Darcy says. “What annoying timing.”

Bucky huffs a laugh. “It could be worse. I’d be a mess if it had been healed before I left,” he says. “If I’d finally been able to touch you like I want, how the hell would I have left for a week and a half right after?”

“True, that would have sucked,” Darcy says, leaning back into the couch. “I’d have been a pain in the ass for Jane to deal with.”

“A very noble sacrifice on your part,” Bucky teases. “How’s your extended girls’ night going?”

“Good,” Darcy says. Bucky raises his water bottle to his lips. “We’ve both had work and school, so our schedules haven’t really matched up, but we’ve been watching movies and eating food Thor hates at the end of most days. And Natasha’s coming over later for sangria, Vietnamese food, and Tits a Wonderful Life.”

Bucky chokes, nearly spitting out his drink of water. “Tits a Wonderful Life?” he says once he’s coughed a few times.

“Yep,” Darcy says cheerily. “Porn parody of It’s a Wonderful Life. We haven’t seen that one yet. Last time was Womb Raider and The Walking Dead parody. That one was just ick for me. I can’t suspend disbelief well enough to be okay with characters who haven’t showered in who knows how long going at it like rabbits.”

“That’s a good point,” Bucky says, though he still looks a bit surprised. “Nothing sexier than weeks of grime and being surrounded by rotting bodies.”

“For fucking real,” Darcy says. “We have higher hopes for Tits a Wonderful Life.”

“I’d say it sounds happier, but the regular It’s a Wonderful Life is just one of the most depressing movies ever,” Bucky says.

“Yes! Isn’t it?!” Darcy says. “My grandmother wanted to watch it every year on Christmas, and it was like cool, I love watching a guy decide if he wants to commit suicide.”

“A weird topic to have kids watch,” Bucky says. There’s the sound of a door opening and Bucky looks off to the left. “Hey Mom, hi Becca,” he calls, then turns back to Darcy. “Sorry, sweetheart, I’ve gotta go. We’re going to dinner soon.”

Before Darcy can say anything, Becca appears in the frame, waving at Darcy! “Hi!” she calls, then elbows Bucky. “You weren’t going to let us say hi?”

“You were frantically texting me about sushi less than an hour ago,” Bucky grumbles, scooting over a little so Becca can sit on the couch next to him.

“That doesn’t mean I can’t say hello!” Becca says, then turns to the screen, smiling. “Hi!”

“Hi Becca,” Darcy says, grinning. “Having fun?”

“Yes! I met my dorm mate, and she doesn’t suck. Yay!”

Darcy laughs. “Good! Bad dorm mates can mess everything up,” Darcy says. “Jane had some stinkers before she was lucky enough to meet me.”

“Me too!” Freddie calls out before appearing behind Bucky and Becca’s couch, leaning down to be seen by the laptop. “This absolute monster of a girl who wouldn’t bathe! Who wants to smell?”

“There’s a whole Hollywood trend now about it,” Becca says with an eye roll. “She was ahead of her time.”

Darcy’s about the answer when she hears her front door open. Jane immediately calls out, “I have the wine for sangria and the porn!”

Darcy can feel herself blush. She closes her eyes slowly, then opens them again. Bucky is biting his lip like he’s trying very hard not to laugh, but Becca and Freddie are both grinning widely, Freddie’s eyebrows almost to her hairline.

“That’s not what it sounds like,” Darcy says.

“What’s not?” Jane asks, walking in behind her. Darcy sees her eyes widen in the little display window in the corner of her screen. “Oh, oh bad. Oh bad bad bad bad bad.”

“Is that a Magic School Bus reference?” Bucky asks.

“Yep, and I’m gonna go now. Nice to meet you Mrs. Bucky’s Mom!” Jane says and turns right around, fleeing from the room. Freddie laughs, though it’s not unkind.

“We’re having a girls’ night with Natasha,” Darcy says, sighing. “And I’m going to go before I dig a bigger hole for myself.”

“Tell her hi!” Freddie says.

“I will. Have good sushi!”

“We will,” Bucky says, pushing Becca out of the frame and flapping his hand at Freddie until she rolls her eyes and walks away. He turns his attention back to Darcy, smiling softer at her. “Have a good night with Jane and Nat. Don’t let her talk you into any of her weird Russian art films.”

“She said she’s saving those for an existential dread-themed movie night,” Darcy says.

Bucky snorts. “Sounds about right,” he says. “Have fun, sweetheart. Talk to you tomorrow.”

“You too. Bye, babe,” she says, exiting the call. “They’re gone! You can show your face again!” she calls.

“I don’t think I can!” Jane calls back. “I can’t stand the Darcy Disappointed Face!”

Darcy snorts. She closes her laptop and leaves the living room, finding Jane in the kitchen. She’s unloading the grocery bag, spreading the fruit for the sangria out on the counter in front of her.

“Well, it’s official. I can never meet Bucky’s mom,” Jane says.

“Freddie’s chill,” Darcy says. “Need a hand, mix master Janey?”

“No, it’s okay,” Jane says. That’s probably for the best. Jane’s a sangria master, and Darcy would probably just get in the way. “Did you call in the food order?”

“Natasha’s picking it up on her way,” Darcy says. “I’m going to tidy up the living room a bit so she doesn’t know how we live.”

Jane laughs. “Good.”

It’s not that she, Thor, and Jane are slobs, they don’t have dirty plates everywhere or anything like that, but things just tend to accumulate in the living room. There’s a pile of all three of their textbooks next to the pink chair, a truly alarming amount of throw blankets that they’re not quite sure how they acquired, a stack of DVDs they haven’t bothered to put away sitting on the coffee table, and a lot of Jane’s notes from her summer classes.

After delivering the textbooks and notes to their appropriate bedrooms, putting the DVDs back on their shelf, and putting half the blankets in the closet, the living room is finally fit for company. And in excellent timing because Natasha texts that she’s a few minutes away.

“I’m gonna run downstairs and meet Natasha!” Darcy calls as she walks out their front door. She’s dropped enough food trying to open their building’s sticky door that it’s just smart to go down and let her in.

“Hey,” Natasha says, smiling as she walks up the stairs to the building’s front door. She has a tall stack of takeout boxes in her hands.

“Hey, need a hand?” Darcy asks, holding the door open.

“Nope, I’m good,” she says. “Thanks, though.”

“Your balancing skills are incredible,” Darcy says, eying the tower of takeout as the elevator takes them up to her floor.

“Thanks,” Natasha says. “Part dance training, part picking up Clint’s circus tricks.”

“Circus tricks?” Darcy asks.

“Clint traveled with a circus when he was younger,” Natasha says. Darcy stares. Natasha grins. “I’m not kidding. Don’t ask him about it unless he brings it up first though. It can be a sensitive subject.”

“Should you not have told me then?” Darcy asks slowly.

“No, he’s fine with people knowing,” Natasha says. “He actually said I could tell you. A lot of the whole story involves his brother, which can be a good or a bad thing, depending on the day.”

“Gotcha,” Darcy says. “Circus to zookeeper, huh?”

“He’s had a few odd jobs in there,” Natasha says, following Darcy out of the elevator and down the hall to her apartment. “New York City tour guide. Sex shop worker.”

“Who’s a sex shop worker?” Jane asks, popping out of the kitchen.

“Natasha’s boyfriend,” Darcy says.

“Oh, nice,” Jane says, leading Natasha into the kitchen. “He probably has an arsenal of toys.”

“He does,” Natasha says, grinning widely. She begins unpacking the food boxes and setting them out on the counter. “He abused the hell out of that employee discount.”

“Shit, I would too,” Darcy says. “He should give us recommendations. My vibe is on its last legs.”

“He actually has a list,” Natasha says. “I’ll have him send it to you.”

“Bless him,” Darcy says.

They load up plates of food and big glasses of sangria, then head for the living room.

“Your AC is incredible,” Natasha says, settling into the couch. “We have a bunch of window units that work maybe half the time.”

“You’re welcome here if it ever gets too unbearable,” Darcy says. “My snotty parents’ money is all that lets us have AC.”

“At least they’re good for something,” Jane says. “But it means I can’t slap her mom, which is a disappointment.”

“Once I’m financially independent, you can go wild,” Darcy says.

“I’ll take that compromise,” Jane says. Natasha laughs, a mischievous gleam in her eyes.

Darcy had been a bit worried after she invited Natasha that it would be awkward. She likes Natasha, but doesn’t know her very well. Would she find Jane and Darcy’s idea of girls’ night dumb? Jane’s cousin had when they’d invited her. She briefly wonders if it’ll be weird with her being Bucky’s ex, but immediately dismisses that as dumb. They’ve been broken up for years, are good friends, are both dating other people, and Darcy refuses to fall into a stereotypical jealous girlfriend role. Plus, she likes Natasha.

She blames the media and her mother.

Luckily, Natasha seems perfectly happy with the gossip, the food, and the sangria.

“Jane, if you ever decide you’re bored with astrophysics, you have a great future in sangria,” Natasha says.

“Thank you!” Jane says loudly. It’s been about a half hour, and Jane’s a bit of a lightweight. “My one innate talent!”

“That and putting together furniture,” Darcy says.

“Oooh, yes,” Jane says. “Darcy and I are great at that. We made bank in college putting together people’s furniture. People in our building were baaad at it.”

“Love it,” Natasha says with a grin. “My sister and I made money teaching women how to beat up creepy guys.”

“That doesn’t surprise me at all,” Darcy says, laughing. “Will you teach me how to punch someone?”

“Sure,” Natasha says. “When we’re less tipsy. I’ve broken bones that way.”

“Super fair. I’m clumsy enough sober.”

They’re pleasantly tipsy when they put on Tits a Wonderful Life. It’s as hilariously awful as Darcy had suspected. It’s not often that she hears death threats in the first few minutes of porn. What a world.

“That would just hurt,” Natasha says, watching a particularly dry-looking scene. “Lube is your friend!”

“Lube is so your friend!” Darcy says, shuddering at the memories of shitty sex with shitty partners.

“Whoa, I am not nearly that bendy,” Jane says, tilting her head. “That’s too much balancing for me. Oh yeah, you’re a dancer, so that’s probably easy.”

“It’d be easy, but I don’t know how enjoyable it would be,” Natasha says.

“Yeah, I’m lazy, dude,” Darcy says. “I mean, against a wall is fun, but acrobatics during sex just doesn’t mesh with my lazy vibes. That was one upside of Ian, I guess.”

“Boooo,” Jane says, more than a little tipsy now. “Ian sucks in every way and deserves no credit!”

“Ian’s the ex?” Natasha asks. Her voice is a bit slurred after her second big cup of sangria, but her eyes look alert.

“Yeah,” Darcy says. “And he’s not worth forking his tires.”

“Agree to disagree,” Jane says. “But yeah, John and your parents deserve it much more.” Jane leans toward Natasha on the couch, as if Darcy can’t hear that way. “He was very emotionally distant, bad in bed, and disliked all of her likes. He didn’t even like to kiss her in front of other people.”

“What the fuck?” Natasha says.

“He was raised by very stuffy people,” Darcy says. “And never really broke out of that mold.”

“He was stuffy and British and literally got so offended that we didn’t have a tea kettle,” Jane says grumpily.

“Not all of us can find our soulmates by running them over,” Darcy says. “Some of us have to look a little harder.”

“Did you run Thor over?” Natasha asks, looking delighted.

“I did!” Jane says. “It was an accident. He was drunk and walked behind our car while we were backing up.”

“Love at first bumper hit,” Natasha says, laughing. “I met Clint when we were breaking into the same building.”

Darcy chokes on her sangria, managing to cough out, “What?”

“Yeah,” Natasha says, laughing at Darcy and Jane’s delighted and stunned faces. “He was there to steal his dog, and I was there to destroy the homes of the guys who messed with my sister.”

“Ha!” Jane says.

“You’re like the queen of property crime” Darcy says, clutching her ribs as she laughs. “You both have amazing stories for meeting people.”

“You do too!” Jane says. “You met your boyfriend because he was piercing your tits!”

“Yes, I did,” Darcy says, grinning. “My ridiculous attraction was distracted because fuck, that hurt.”

“God, I bet,” Jane says, crossing her arms over her breasts. “No thanks, I’m good.”

“I’m happy with the result, but Christ on sale, it was not enjoyable.”

“Does it feel good when you, you know, play with them?” Jane asks curiously.

“I haven’t tried yet,” Darcy says. “I’m about seven months post-piercing, and that’s like the low end of the healing time, right? I wanted to wait to be sure they’re healed all right.”

“I’m sure Bucky will be happy to check,” Jane says with a grin, tilting dangerously to the side on the couch.

"You'll love it," Natasha says, swaying a bit in her seat, almost as if moving to music. "I have mine done, and it's sooo good."

"I'm so excited," Darcy says. She's feeling a little fuzzy from the sangria, but not enough to make her more loose lipped than usual. "I know for some people it doesn't make a difference, but I'm already super sensitive, so I'm hoping it'll be great."

"I thought about doing it," Jane says. She's tilting more and more toward horizontal as time goes on. "Thor would probably like it, but I'm a pain wimp. Then you said it was worse than having your tonsils out, and I decided I'm good."

"Oh, how's your conch?" Natasha asks, leaning in and peering at Jane’s ear.

"Good! You're good at stabbing!"

"I know," Natasha says with a grin that is distinctly predatory.

"You're so scary. I'm so glad we're friends," Darcy says.

"Me too," Natasha says, leaning over and grabbing Darcy's wrist, tugging until she tumbles off the pink chair and onto the couch next to her, Natasha scooting to the middle to make room for her, until Natasha has her arm around Darcy’s shoulders and they’re leaning against Jane, who giggles. “Clint and I decided we’d get in street fights for you, so you’re officially adopted.”

Darcy is strangely touched, but also…“I would put all my money on you in a street fight.”

Natasha’s grin is sharklike. “Because you’re smart.”

They make their way through all the sangria by the end of the night, and Natasha decides to crash on the couch instead of taking a cab. She must be immune to hangovers, something Darcy and Jane are both exceptionally jealous of, because Darcy wakes up to the smell of pancakes and bacon. She stumbles out of her room, still in pajamas, to find Natasha in the kitchen with a stack of pancakes and a plate of bacon already cooked and more in the frying pan.

“Can I marry you?” Darcy asks, noticing that the coffee pot is also brewing.

“I think Bucky might have an opinion on that,” Natasha says wryly. “And his french toast is better, so you might want to hold out for him.”

“If you insist,” Darcy says. “I guess I don’t want to fight a circus-to-dildo-seller-to-zookeeper for his girlfriend either.”

“You really don’t,” Natasha says. “He acts like a goof, but he can throw down.”

“You know, I can see that,” Darcy says. “Do you need any help?”

“Nope, I’m almost done,” Natasha says. “Grab a plate. Should we wake up Jane?”

“Nah, the smell of bacon will wake her up,” Darcy says, and barely five seconds later, they hear a loud thud. “That’s Jane and her nightstand.”

A moment later Jane slides into the kitchen on her socked feet. “Oh my god, I could marry you,” she says, taking a whole pancake in her hands and eating it like she would a sandwich.

“Grab a plate, you animal,” Darcy says, shoving a plate into Jane’s hands.

They sit around the breakfast bar, the food already making Darcy’s headache recede a bit. Darcy’s phone buzzes next to her glass of orange juice, Bucky’s name flashing from a text alert. She smiles slightly, tilting it to see the text.

Morning sweetheart. Hope this didn’t wake you up. And I hope Natasha didn’t bring any of her ridiculous vodka. We’re doing bedding, bath, etc. shopping today, so I’ll call you later when they’re exhausted from shopping.

Darcy grins and texts back Morning babe! No sketchy vodka, but she did wake us up with breakfast, which makes this the most successful girls’ night to date. Send me pics of your haul!

When she sets the phone down and looks back up, Jane’s still hunched over her plate, shoveling pancake into her mouth, but Natasha is watching her, a small smile playing at her lips. Darcy’s expecting her to say something, but she just turns back to her pancakes. That’s probably good since Darcy’s brain isn’t firing on all cylinders yet.

Natasha has appointments in a few hours, so she hugs them both, thanks them for a great night, and heads out. Jane, still not fully functional, heads back to her room, probably to sleep. Darcy’s tempted to do the same, but she really should do homework since she works for a lot of the weekend. The perils of being an adult.

Bucky texts her throughout the day with pictures of their purchases, which she adores. She’s a slut for home shopping; she can admit it. When she was a kid, she just didn’t understand how adults got so excited about getting something like a blender for Christmas, but not now. Jane actually bought her a blush pink blender for her birthday and she’d nearly screamed.

Bucky calls her that night before bed, but they’re both tired enough that it’s a quick conversation. She does get Becca’s new address from him so she can send her cookies and twinkle lights, because even though she’s quite a few years older than Becca (she started college slowly, all right?), she remembers the excitement of twinkle lights in her boring dorm.

Darcy has work and class the day Bucky flies back, so she texts him in the morning before leaving for class to wish him a good flight. He’s already up since his plane leaves relatively early, so he texts back a thank-you and a picture of him looking adorably sleep rumpled and bleary eyed next to Freddie, who looks wide awake.

Morning at work is slow, which isn’t surprising for the middle of the week when they’re not near the beginning or end of the term. She only has one class today, which starts less than five minutes after her shift is over, and thankfully it’s not her writing class. Her Law and Society sociology class is actually interesting, so she’s able to push her excitement at seeing Bucky to the back of her mind. At least until her phone rings right after she walks out of class. She grins, picking it up as she heads across campus toward the bus.

“Hey,” she says. “Make it back all right?”

“Despite the efforts of the plane, yes,” Bucky says. ”Slight mechanical issue that delayed takeoff, but we made it, and I’ve showered the plane off me, so all is right in the world.”

Darcy laughs. “I’m glad you’re back and in one piece,” she says.

“Me too. Video chatting is great, but I miss seeing your face outside of a screen,” he says.

Darcy’s smile is wide. “You’re stupidly adorable, you know that?” she says.

“I try,” Bucky says, cheerily. “So, Steve is staying at Sharon’s tonight. Would you want to come over for dinner? Judge our window flower box?”

Excitement pools in her belly. “I’d love to,” she says, smiling widely. “Should I bring anything?”

“Just you,” he says, sounding pleased. “Unless you’re violently opposed to red wine.”

“Not at all,” Darcy says. “Red wine, huh? We feeling fancy?”

“Not like black tie fancy,” Bucky says. “But I will be wearing a shirt that doesn’t have any barbeque sauce stains on it.”

“Whoa, and here I thought you would only do that if the queen visited.”

“To quote my grandma, ‘I wouldn’t cross the street to spit on the queen.’ ”

Darcy bursts out laughing, startling the guy reading at the bus stop she’s just made it to. “I’m assuming this is the Irish grandma.”

“You assume correctly,” Bucky says, laughing a bit. “How’s seven? Enough time to chill after class and make it over here?”

“Sounds good to me,” Darcy says. “Can’t wait.”

“Me neither,” Bucky says, and she can hear the smile in his voice. “Bye, doll.”

“Bye,” Darcy says.

She feels light as air, glad to finally see him again after a week and a half, but she’s also lingering a bit on their conversation a few days ago. She’s very aware that her tattoo is fully healed. She’s not one hundred percent sure that they’re going to have sex tonight, but like...probably, right? She mulls that over on the bus home, hoping that she has cute clothes clean because she has been a little lazy about doing her laundry lately.

When she gets home, she says thank you to the laundry gods because her nicest bra and panty set is indeed clean. She changes into them, admiring herself in the mirror for a second because damn, that deep red looks good on her, before pulling on her favorite little black dress. It hits her a bit above the knees, is sleeveless, and has black straps criss-crossing over her back. She looks damn good in this too, thank you very much.

Darcy opts for contacts because if they do end up sleeping together, the last thing she wants is her glasses fogging up or flying off her face. Been there, done that, not a fan. She also puts her toothbrush in her purse, just in case.

It’s just one bus to Bucky’s neighborhood, and it even has a stop just two buildings down from his. Convenient. She double checks the address he’d texted her before stopping in front of his building. Turns out it isn’t a modern monstrosity at all, but a fun old brick building with cute Juliet balconies and a new black fire escape climbing down the right side of the building. She finds Barnes & Rogers on the intercom outside the front door and presses it. A few seconds later, Bucky’s voice comes through saying, “Come on up, sweetheart,” and the building’s door unlocks.

She takes the elevator up because she doesn’t want to get sweaty climbing the stairs, and knocks on his door. Bucky opens it a few moments later, wearing a Halloween Snoopy apron and smiling widely. Darcy only gets a second to enjoy that amazing look because Bucky’s swooping her up in his arms almost immediately, one arm around her back, the other hand cradling the side of her throat as he kisses the hell out of her. She’s instantly on board, wrapping her arms around him and holding him just as tightly. It’s only been a week and a half, but she’s just missed the hell out of him.

When they break apart, Bucky only pulls back enough to press his forehead against hers. “Hi,” he says, grinning.

Darcy smiles back. “Hey there,” she says.

Bucky kisses her once more before pulling back and tugging her into the apartment.

“It smells great in here,” Darcy says as Bucky locks the door behind her.

“Thanks,” Bucky says. “It’s cajun shrimp and rice. One of the few things I can consistently cook.” Bucky whistles, looking at her appreciatively. “You look gorgeous, as always.”

“Sweet talker,” she says, grinning. “The Snoopy apron is a good look for you.”

Bucky laughs. “I’ve ruined plenty of clothes while trying to cook,” he says. “My mom bought me the apron, and it’s saved so many shirts. Want a tour?”

“Yes, please. Wow me with your flower box,” she says.

Bucky and Steve’s apartment is much more open than Darcy, Jane, and Thor’s, with only a peninsula separating the kitchen from the living room. Bucky’s living room not only has one of the adorable Juliet balconies, but also a large window that opens onto the fire escape. Bucky slides the window open so she can stick her head out and see the window box attached to the fire escape railing, out of the way of anyone if there does happen to be a fire. It’s filled with bright pink Martha Washington geraniums and white bacopas.

“That’s gorgeous. You have good taste,” she says.

“Well, in this case, Steve has good taste,” Bucky says. “I’m the one that tried to grow pumpkins in a tiny window box.”

Darcy laughs. “Didn’t go well, huh?”

“It did not,” he says.

He shows her the bathroom down the hall past the kitchen, then Steve’s door (which has a big dent in it), and then a look into Bucky’s room, which looks like it has the en suite.

“I won the rock, paper, scissors match for the room with the bathroom,” Bucky says, leading her back to the kitchen.

“Did he kick the door in rage?” she asks, nodding to the dent in his bedroom door.

Bucky snorts. “No, he and Sharon were trying to be adventurous, and disaster struck,” he says.”

Darcy laughs. “Sounds like Jane and Thor,” Darcy says. “They left buttprints on the walls. On so many walls.”

Bucky looks at the wall with apprehension before continuing down the hall and back to the kitchen and living room area. A smallish table sits between the peninsula and the living room rug. It’s covered with a dark blue tablecloth with white plates, deep red napkins, and two empty wine glasses, the bottle of wine chilling in the center.

“That’s beautiful,” she says as Bucky sets two battery powered candles on the table. “And a bit patriotic…”

Bucky laughs. “Yeah, Steve and Sharon did the kitchen shopping and didn’t think that through,” he says. “Natasha had been teasing us about how bland our apartment was, and you know far Steve will go to prove a point.”

“Was the point to be the Fourth of July year round?” Darcy teases.

Bucky snorts. “No,” he says. “He and Sharon were also in the first like two weeks of dating and had their tongues in each other’s mouth a lot. I think they just kind of grabbed things between gropes. They also came back with a bright orange and teal rug, trivets that turned out to be wall art and melted when we put a hot pan on them, and plastic silverware that snapped in half after a month.”

Darcy laughs. “Okay, I can’t judge too much because Jane and I melted a plastic cutting board onto the burner in our first place,” she says.

“You can absolutely judge because I’ll never tell Steve that,” Bucky says, kissing her temple. “Have a seat, doll. I gotta check the food.”

Darcy takes the seat with her back to the living room, giving her a clear view into the kitchen where Bucky is walking around in his Snoopy apron, pulling a pan out of the oven. He’s about to bring it out before remembering the apron, pausing to take it off before bringing out the pan and an actual trivet.

Bucky hands her the neon pink serving spoon (“Another Steve purchase,” he says) and has her dish herself up while he pours wine. It smells a lot better than Thor’s most recent attempt at shrimp, which, well, was the reason they had to replace the stove.

“Holy shit, this is good,” Darcy says, remembering to swallow the bite instead of talking with food in her mouth.

Bucky grins widely. “Yeah? I’m glad you like it,” he says. “Steve’s mom gave him a bunch of cooking class DVDs because she doesn’t quite understand the concept of YouTube, and we’ve been...sometimes trying. Sometimes just eating leftover pizza.”

Darcy laughs. “That sounds like Jane’s mom. She recently asked if we wanted her Tae Bo tapes,” she says.

“Wow, I just had a vivid memory of my mom and aunt doing those workouts in the living room,” Bucky says. “Is it 1999 again?”

“Your mom did say bell bottoms and jelly sandals are back,” Darcy says, grinning. “Should we get you some baggy pants and an oversized teal and purple windbreaker? Maybe some overalls?”

“Oh god,” Bucky says, shaking his head and laughing. “No, I’m good. I’m keeping the flannels and boots, but nope, nothing else.”

“Personally, I’m waiting for the slap bracelets to come back,” she says. “Nothing better than whacking your friend for fashion.”

Bucky laughs. “Steve and I never had those, but we had some pretty sick fanny packs.”

“I’ve seen some of those lately too,” she says. “I don’t remember them being sequined, but that’s still fun.”

The food is good, and the company is even better. Bucky tells her stories about Steve and him growing up together, about Natasha and Clint’s shenanigans (she’s not surprised about Natasha vandalizing Sackler family homes, but she’s surprised about Clint, who tripped over a dandelion, as an accomplice), about him and Sam getting drunk in Boston and ending up in Nova Scotia.

She tells him about accidentally trespassing with Jane and Thor while trying to get some readings for Jane’s thesis, about how she and Thor sang in an illegal karaoke bar above a laundromat/coffee shop and had to run when the police came, about losing her previous taser down a storm drain while trying to get a cat out of a tree.

It’s a nice and sweet candlelit dinner and not nearly as stressful as when Ian would want to get dressed up and go to a restaurant he couldn’t pronounce the name of, or when her parents would drag her and her brother to fancy restaurants to be quiet decorations while they hobnobbed. No, this is nice because Bucky’s nice and does nice things for her without expecting anything in return. Without making it transactional.

They sit and talk, occasionally sipping wine, long after their plates are empty. Her bare feet end up resting on his thigh under the table, his hands on her ankles. He brushes his thumb over her soft skin, smiling as she tells him a story about Thor’s brother staying on their couch and helping Darcy prank Thor and Jane. His smile grows, eyes soft as he looks at her as her story ends with Thor’s hair having pink tips.

“What?” she asks. “Do I have rice in my teeth?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head, his hands squeezing her ankles gently. “I just like looking at you.”

She can feel her face heat as she blushes. “Right back at you,” she says, poking his thigh with her toe. “My brain just short circuited when I met you. The only thing that distracted me from how pretty you are was how much nipple piercings fucking hurt.”

Bucky laughs, skin around his eyes crinkling with his smile. “It was...I had such a hard time being professional with you,” he admits, looking a bit embarrassed about it.

“It didn’t seem that way,” she assures him. “The most professional anyone has ever looked while staring at my tits.”

Bucky rolls his eyes and runs a finger up the sole of her foot, making her shriek and try to tug them back, but he hangs on to her ankles, laughing.

“You ass,” she says, though she’s grinning, slowly relaxing her legs and feet when she thinks he’s not going to tickle her again.

“I know,” he says, thumb brushing over her ankle bone as his face settles into something a bit more serious. “I felt like a creep for wanting to ask you out, and for asking to kiss you, but I thought…I really thought you were interested, and I would hate myself for not trying and would always wonder ‘what if?’”

It feels like Darcy’s heart is just swelling in her chest. She gently pulls her feet from his lap, and he lets her, his fingers trailing over her skin. She stands and circles the table, Bucky shifting so he’s facing her. She steps forward, between his spread knees, and cups his face in her hands, leaning down to kiss him.

She just feels so...so overwhelmed with affection for him, with excitement for what this could be, with how they’ve been together for such a short time, but she feels more cared for now than in any long-term relationship she’s had, and she’s not sure how to put that into words, so she kisses him with everything she has, hoping to conveying at least a bit of what he makes her feel.

Bucky’s hands rest on her hips as he kisses her back, his grip tight. He’s holding himself tightly, as if trying to hold himself back, and that’s the last thing she wants. Darcy slides a hand behind his head, tangling in his hair, tugging ever so slightly. Bucky groans into her mouth, a sound that sends heat straight between her thighs.

Bucky pulls back just enough that their noses are brushing, then he stands, pushing his chair back as he does, the front of his body pressing against hers. She can feel him hard through his pants, pressing against her stomach, and she’s not interested in waiting any longer. She takes his hands in hers and starts walking backwards, pulling him with her toward the hall that leads to his bedroom.

Bucky’s eyes are dark as he looks at her, then he yanks her to him, kissing her again, hands tight on her and he guides them down the hall. She deepens the kiss, her tongue moving against his, and trusts him not to let her trip as he walks her backwards down the hall and into his room.

Darcy, not at all known for her patience, takes the hemline of his shirt and tugs it up, breaking the kiss to pull his shirt over his head. She’d known he’s strong, having spent a lot of time cuddled up to him, but seeing him is still something else. He has a tattoo of a red and gold dragon on the left side of his chest, curling down his ribs.

“Jesus Christ, you’re hot,” she says as she rakes her eyes over him, making him laugh. She runs her hands up his toned stomach, tracing fingers over his chest, his nipples, his collarbones, cataloging what gets a reaction. “I know I’m objectifying the hell out of you right now, but damn.”

“You can objectify me any time you want,” he says, ducking down to kiss her again as her hands explore his shoulders, nearly no difference between the warmth of the flesh and where it meets metal.

“I plan to,” she says, fingers falling to his belt buckle. She’s curious about how the prosthetic integrates with his body, but that’s far from her current priority. She’s much more interested in getting him out of his pants.

Darcy gets his belt unbuckled and his pants open before Bucky turns the tables, pulling her dress up and over her head. “Does this need to be hung up?” he asks, and wow, she really didn’t think she could want to kiss him more.

“No,” she says, shaking her head, grinning when Bucky just tosses it behind him, the dress landing on a bookshelf.

Bucky swears under his breath as he takes her in, apparently very appreciative of the garnet satin bra and panties set. His eyes are darker when they meet hers again, enough that it makes her breath catch, sending another jolt of heat between her thighs.

Bucky presses a kiss to the underside of her jaw as he walks her back to his bed, teeth nipping at the skin, pulling a moan from her throat. His hands drag from her hips around to her back, running up on either side of her spine until they hit the band of her bra. Deft fingers undo the clasp and take the straps, pulling them down her arms until the bra drops at her feet.

The backs of her legs bump the bed, and she sits down on the edge, keeping her eyes on him, grinning at the look on his face as he stares at her breasts. She finishes unzipping his pants and tugs them down his thighs until he steps out of them, leaving him in black boxer briefs. His left thigh has a variety of random tattoos on it, probably the ones he’d told her about from when he and Steve would practice on themselves and each other. His right thigh has a detailed and colorful ferris wheel.

Before Darcy can reach out like she wants to, Bucky is bending over to kiss her, his hands planted on the mattress on either side of her. She gets the picture, scooting back into the center of the bed, Bucky crawling in after her. He presses a kiss right above her belly button, then a few inches higher, dragging his hands up her sides as he kisses up her body. He only stops when he reaches her sternum, his thumbs brushing against the undersides of her breasts.

Darcy’s nipples are hard and aching, the barbells shining in the soft light of his room. From the hungry way he’s staring, she has a feeling seeing them pierced, knowing that he was the one that did it, might be doing it for him.

“Have you played with these yet?” Bucky asks, thumbs caressing the soft skin right underneath her nipples.

“No,” she says, breath hitching. “Didn’t want to risk it if they weren’t healed enough.”

“They’re healed enough,” Bucky murmurs, then his thumbs are brushing over her nipples, drawing a mewl from her as her back arches, warmth spreading to her cunt. Bucky grins at her reaction and does it again, then lowers his mouth, laving his tongue over her nipple. Darcy gasps, tangling a hand in his hair. He just hums against her, and god, that feels good too.

She can’t tell if it’s because it’s been so long since they’ve been played with or if it’s because piercing them really did increase sensitivity, but his mouth feels incredible on her nipple, arousal rushing through her body like electricity. Maybe he’s just that good. She’s not ruling anything out, whimpering as he sucks, tongue flicking over the barbell, his fingers gently rolling her other nipple.

She’s always been sensitive, though past partners haven’t been the best at utilizing that. Bucky is having no issues, mouth and fingers working at her nipples like he has a roadmap to her body, her cunt wet and throbbing between her thighs. She whimpers, hand tightening in his hair when his teeth scrape over her, legs tensing on either side of where he’s on his knees between them.

“Bucky,” she whines, unsure what she’s asking for, but he just hums and switches sides, her wet nipple tightening against the cool air as his mouth closes around the other. Her other hand is tight on his arm as he sucks and nips at her, dragging her arousal closer and closer to the surface. In just the last ten minutes, he’s gotten her more worked up than some exes have ever.

She’s a bundle of need when he finally pulls back, pressing a kiss between her breasts, looking up at her with a heated look as he drags his lips down her torso, moving lower until he’s tugging her panties down her legs. She spreads her thighs wide for him, exposing her wet cunt, and is gratified by the sharp breath he takes.

“Fuck,” he mutters, then he’s dropping to his elbows between her legs, wrapping his hands around her thighs and bringing his mouth down to her cunt.

Darcy gasps, fighting the urge to press against him. He’s good, tongue exploring her folds, circling wide around her clit without touching where she wants him most. He explores her like it’s his job to discover every spot that makes her react, every place that makes her moan or whimper or gasp.

She feels a finger against her opening when Bucky starts to roll his tongue against her clit. She tilts her hips up in invitation, and he takes her up on it, sliding a finger into her wet heat. She clenches around him with a satisfied hum that changes to a whimper when he crooks it inside her, searching for her g-spot.

“Fuck,” she says, voice breathy.

Bucky hums against her in response, which makes her thigh twitch against his face. The scruff of his stubble is rough against her inner thighs, but she can’t bring herself to care. Bucky presses another finger into her, fucking her slowly with them as he moves his tongue quicker against her clit.

He finds a rhythm quickly, figuring out the speed and pressure that drives her crazy. She takes her breasts in her hands, thumbs rolling over her hard little nipples, biting her lip against the whines she nearly lets out. Bucky rumbles between her thighs, and when she looks down, she sees his eyes fixated on where her fingers are playing with her nipples.

Her body starts to tighten, and Bucky can feel it, moving his fingers quicker inside her, his tongue keeping the same rhythm as it works her closer and closer to the edge. She’s making soft little noises high in her throat, thighs shaking on either side of his face. She presses harder against her nipples, moaning when Bucky presses up against her g-spot, and that’s all she can take.

Darcy comes with a gasp of his name, cunt clenching around his fingers as pleasure rolls through her. Bucky keeps his mouth on her, eyes watching as she comes on his tongue, her body trembling and heart racing as he drags out her orgasm. He only stops when she pushes at his head, getting close to being too much

Bucky presses a kiss to her inner thigh before pulling back, his mouth wet. She relaxes her grip on his hair to reach for his shoulder, trying to pull him up. Bucky grins and crawls up her, covering her body with his, pressing his lips to hers. Darcy groans into the kiss, tasting herself on his tongue.

Bucky’s hard against her hip, and she drags her hands down his chest, his stomach, to the waist of his boxer briefs. She slips a hand inside, wrapping it around his hard, uncut cock, and Bucky curses, closing his eyes briefly. She jacks him slowly, watching his face as he bites his lip, brows furrowing, until he backs away from her enough to finish stripping and reach for his nightstand, coming back with a condom.

Darcy watches as he slides the condom on then moves closer, spreading her legs wide. He brushes the tip of his cock through her folds, drawing a whimper when he drags against her clit, before notching his cock at her entrance. She has to force herself to breathe as he presses in slowly, his eyes fixed on where their bodies meet before flicking up to watch her face.

It’s been a bit since Darcy’s had sex, and he’s not small, so she has to remind herself to relax into the stretch she loves so much. He’s watching her face for any hesitation as he slides in slowly, but he doesn’t find any as he sinks into her completely, hips pressed against her inner thighs.

“Fuck,” he groans, then he’s bending over, cock shifting inside her as he kisses her again, hand at the side of her throat.

Bucky rocks against her slowly, then quicker when it makes her moan into his mouth. He nips at her lip before pulling back, hands low on her hips as he fucks into her slowly, watching where her cunt swallows his cock. Darcy lets out a whimper as she rolls her hips into his thrusts, enjoying the drag of him inside her.

He tilts her hips up, pulling her closer so her ass rests against his thighs, keeping her at that angle as he fucks into her, tip of his cock brushing against her g-spot on each thrust. She has less leverage this way, but it feels fantastic, and Bucky’s letting out soft grunts, so she’s not overly concerned.

Darcy drags her hands up her body, squeezing at her breasts. Bucky curses under his breath as he watches her, thrusts getting harder. She rolls her thumbs over her nipples, moaning at the burst of pleasure it brings her. The barbells feel strange to the touch, still so new, but fuck, yep, definitely worth getting them pierced.

Gasps and breathy moans fall from her lips as he fucks her harder, his fingertips biting into her skin. He slides his right hand up her side, fingers moving over the healed owl, the look on his face a mix of pride, possessiveness, and desire that makes her shiver.

“I meant it—fuck—when I said no one else is t-touching my skin again,” she says, her voice rough.

“Fuck,” Bucky says, voice a growl. He drops his hand between her legs, fingers pressing against the side of her hard little clit.

She’s been thinking about this, has touched herself imagining what being in his bed would be like, and it’s somehow better than she’d imagined. He touches her reverently, like he’s been waiting for this as much as she has, like he’s cataloging what every touch does to her. Part of it is wonderful because of how she feels about him, but part of it is also he’s really good at this.

Darcy’s close again, body starting to tighten, her noises getting sharper and higher as he plays her body. Tension coils tighter and tighter deep inside her, and Bucky can tell, keeping his rhythm and pressure the same, his breath ragged as he pulls the pleasure from her.

“Bucky!” she whimpers, back arching, then she’s coming again, cunt clenching around him as she falls apart.

Her orgasm hits her harder this time, pleasure shooting through her like electricity in her veins, her thighs squeezing tight around Bucky’s hips. He moves his hand from her clit to her waist, but he doesn’t stop fucking into her spasming cunt, chasing his release in her welcoming body.

Bucky lasts less than a minute longer before slamming into her one last time, his forehead pressed to hers as he comes with a low, ragged moan. Darcy wraps shaking arms around him, holding him tight. His breath is shaky, muscles in his back tight, though he slowly relaxes as she rubs his back, skin warm and glistening with light sweat.

The aftershocks of Darcy’s orgasm are fading, though her breath isn’t quite back to normal, when Bucky presses his lips to hers in a soft, lazy kiss. She kisses him back, fingers curling in his long hair as he strokes her cheek with his thumb, his hand cradling her jaw. They stay like that for a while, pressed together and exchanging soft, lethargic kisses until Darcy’s heart is beating normally again.

“I would love,” Darcy says, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth, “to stay right here and enjoy the afterglow.” A kiss to his cheek. “But I have to pee so I don’t get a UTI.”

Bucky snorts a laugh, kissing her again. “Okay, go pee,” he says, and she’s glad he seems to know what she’s talking about (Ian straight up hadn’t believed her about that). Bucky pulls his softening cock from her body, careful to hold onto the condom, then rolls to the side, giving her room.

Darcy gets up, walking naked to his en suite, glancing over her shoulder and grinning when she sees him staring at her ass. He just grins and shrugs, looking entirely unrepentant. His bathroom is spotless, which either means he’s clean as hell or he hoped this would happen. She’s thinking a mix of both.

She finishes quickly and washes her hands, taking in her reflection. Her skin is reddened in various places where he’d put his mouth on her, a particularly dark mark sucked into the side of her breast, there’s a flush to her cheeks, and her hair is quite a bit messier than usual. She looks distinctly sex rumpled, and she’s good with that.

When she walks out of the bathroom, Bucky’s lying on his back in bed, the blanket up to his waist. He smiles when he sees her, and she can’t help grinning back, crossing the room and sliding into bed next to him. She curls up against his side, head resting on his chest, his arm curled around her.

She traces over the red and gold dragon on his chest until she gets to his ribs on his side, near where his metal arm connects, and he jerks. She looks up in alarm, thinking she’d somehow hurt him, but he just shakes his head.

“Ticklish,” he says, looking almost sheepish. “Don’t worry, it doesn’t hurt,” he says, using his metal hand to guide her hand to where his arm connects to his body, letting her touch the rough scar tissue. She traces with careful fingers, marveling at how something this advanced can not only exist but work well. “I’m fine with you touching me here,” he says. “If you see me jerk when someone else does...well, that’s about them. Not you.”

Darcy presses a kiss to his chest before craning her neck around to look at his face. “Thanks for telling me,” she says. He just smiles and kisses her forehead. “I like your dragon,” she says, tapping the dragon’s head.

“Thanks, doll. Steve did it,” he says. He drags his hand from her shoulder down her arm, pointing down at her thigh. “I like your jack-o'-lantern.”

She glances down at the tattoo on her right outer thigh, a jack-o'-lantern with bats flying around it. “Thanks,” she says. “I want to do a whole Halloween, spooky theme on that leg eventually.” Bucky hums and makes the face he does when he’s planning out art in his head. “Why a dragon?” she asks, redirecting him.

“Oh, uh, it’s Smaug, from The Hobbit,” he says. “I’m a big nerd if you haven’t noticed that yet.”

“I noticed and I love it,” she says. She looks down at the front of his right thigh where the ferris wheel is inked. “Why the ferris wheel?”

“It’s the ferris wheel from Coney Island,” Bucky says. “Steve and I got stuck on it when we were kids and made a best friends blood pact. As ten year olds do.”

Darcy laughs. “That sounds about right.”

“Right?” Bucky says, grinning. “Steve and I both got the ferris wheel tattooed by the shop’s old owner, Abe.” He turns his leg so she can see the two on his calf. “Inner calf is a teddy bear for Becca. The whole Bucky Bear thing. Outer calf is the shop’s logo Natasha designed. Steve, Sam, and Natasha all have that one too.”

“Aww,” she says. “You really thought you could gloss over how adorable it is to have a teddy bear tattoo for your little sister? Really?”

Bucky laughs, tips of his ears turning red. “Yeah, trying to get that past you wasn’t my best choice,” he says. “The janky ones on my other thigh are ones Steve and I did when we were practicing. And then the sea leg sleeve.”

“I will be inspecting said sea leg sleeve when I’m not more interested in being right where I am,” she says. “The boxing gloves on the back of your tricep?” she asks, reaching behind her to touch the arm wrapped around her. She’d only caught a glimpse of them earlier, but she’s seen parts of them when his shirt sleeve has been short.

“They’re a memorial for my dad,” he says, metal fingers wrapping around hers where they’ve stilled on his chest. “He was a boxer. A damn good boxer too. He taught me how to throw a punch. A little too early in life, according to my mom, but she didn’t try to stop him. He tried with Becca, but she was too young to really get it. So he taught her to throw food at the neighbor boys she didn’t like instead.”

“He sounds like a character,” Darcy says, squeezing his fingers.

“He was,” Bucky says, smiling slightly. “He died in an Army training accident when I was twelve. After he died, everyone always wanted to talk about his Army service, even though he’d been in less than a year. That’s what took his life. I wasn’t interested in remembering that. But George Barnes the boxer...that’s the dad I remember.”

“I’m glad that’s what you got then,” she says.

Bucky pulls her fingers up, kissing her knuckles before setting them back on his chest. “Thanks, sweetheart. I am too,” he says. “He also had a bunch of tattoos, so he wouldn’t hate it as far as memorials go.” He grins. “He’d have loved you and your taser. Probably would have wanted to teach you to hit people.”

Darcy laughs. “He sounds like someone I’d have loved too,” she says. “Your mom definitely seems like she’d like to teach me to hit people too.”

“Oh, she would,” Bucky says, laughing. “Why do you think she and my dad got on so well? They both had absolutely no time for people’s bullshit. My dad’s brother once joked to him that having kids should have mellowed her out, and he said, ‘Are you fucking kidding? It just gave her two more reasons to knock out people’s teeth.’”

Darcy laughs. “Was he stupid enough to say that to Freddie’s face?”

“God no,” Bucky says, grinning. “She laughed when my dad told her though, so my uncle lived to see another day.”

“A very lucky man,” Darcy says. She shifts around, resting her chin on her hand on his chest, looking up at him. “Thank you for telling me about your dad.”

Bucky’s smile has an edge of sadness, but he mostly looks happy when he says, “You’re welcome.” He reaches up with the arm around her, scritching at her scalp.

“Shiiit,” she says, going lax under the scalp massage like an oversized cat.

“You’re like a step away from purring,” Bucky says, then wildly changes the subject. “I would never actually expect you to not get work from anyone else. I’d never be mad if you loved someone else’s style and wanted to get something done by them, but it’s definitely...a thing for me, seeing my art on your body”

Darcy’s thrown for a second by the subject change, but gets back on track quickly. “I know you wouldn’t. You’re not the controlling type,” she says. “I like Natasha’s style enough that I’d probably consider her at some point, but for right now, I’m very happy with my current artist.”

Bucky hums, dragging the back of his finger down her cheek. “Good,” he says.

“And,” she says, nipping at his chest, “I happen to enjoy that kink of yours.”

Bucky grins, tugging her until she’s lying completely on top of him, one hand on her waist, the other tangled in her hair. “We should absolutely have a discussion about kinks,” he murmurs against her lips before kissing her. “When your eyelids aren’t quite so heavy.”

Darcy laughs, then has to bury her face in his chest to avoid yawning in his face. “Yeah, okay, you caught me,” she says. “You wore me out.”

“What a shame,” he says. “Stay here with me tonight?”

“Well, twist my arm,” she teases. “I may have packed a toothbrush, just in case.”

“I may have bought an extra for you. Just in case.”

“You are so fucking adorable, oh my god.

Chapter Text

Darcy wakes up warm. It takes a moment for her to remember through her sleepy haze that she’s at Bucky’s, that it’s his chest she’s pressed against. She’s lying on her side and Bucky’s on his, his arm draped over her. He’s snoring softly against the top of her head, breath ruffling her hair.

From the sliver of sky Darcy can see from where she’s lying, it’s still very early. She burrows back down against Bucky’s chest and lets herself fall back to sleep.

The next time she wakes up, it’s because of Bucky’s alarm. He groans, rolling away from her to grab his phone from the nightstand, fumbling for a moment before the ringing stops. With a huff, he rolls back over, his prosthetic arm wrapping around her, hand splayed over her bare back.

“Sorry,” he grumbles into her hair. “Forgot to turn it off.”

“Mm, what time is it?” she asks.

“A little after eight,” he says. “We don’t have to get up yet. Unless you have class?”

“Nope,” she says. “Canceled.”

“Mm, shame,” he says, then sighs when they hear something drop and shatter on the apartment floor above them. “That would be Ingrid and Bartholomew.”

Darcy giggles. “The horny geriatric couple?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says. Another loud thunk. “They went from carpet to hardwood floors, and it’s been an adjustment for everyone.”

There’s the clattering of what sounds like an entire drawer of silverware hitting the floor, then a muffled shout. “Sorry, boys!”

Bucky covers her ear and calls back, “That’s okay, Ingrid!” Darcy’s laughing into his chest when he pulls his hand away. He blows a raspberry against the top of her head, making her laugh harder. “Okay, since we’re up, do you want french toast?”

“I always want french toast.”

They shower before food, which Darcy is grateful for because she hates feeling gross in the morning. He has dual shower heads, one waterfall style from the ceiling and one coming from the wall that hits the body, both with psychedelic lights, and she knows there’s no way that came standard with the apartment.

She’d always thought that showering with someone else sucks since it’s clumsy, awkward, and uncomfortable, but she’s changing her mind with Bucky washing her hair.

“I feel like I’m being abducted by aliens,” Darcy says, grinning. She’s standing in the shower, head tilted back as Bucky works suds into her hair, looking up at the shower head flashing pink, then purple, then blue, then back to pink. “Very conscientious aliens who wash my hair.”

Bucky laughs behind her, hands massaging harder at her scalp and making her groan happily. “I’ve been called a lot of things, but alien is a new one,” he says. “Okay, turn around.”

Darcy does, her wet chest pressed to his. “Hi,” she says, smiling.

Bucky ducks down to kiss her. “Hi,” he murmurs against her lips, then tilts her head back, washing the shampoo from her hair.

“I’m changing my stance on showering with others,” Darcy says, eyes closed.

“Yeah?” he says, tilting her head back up.

She opens her eyes again, smiling. “Yeah,” she says, resting her hands on his chest and stepping even closer, his hardening cock pressed against her. She backs him up against the shower wall and slides to her knees. “If your bathroom were disgusting, I would not let my knees touch this tile,” she says, running her hands up his strong tattooed thighs.

“So this is a reward for good bathroom cleanliness?” he says, looking down at her with heated eyes, his hand winding in her wet hair.

“No, this is because I want to,” she says, licking up his hard cock, grinning when it makes him curse. “And because of good bathroom cleanliness.”

Whatever Bucky’s response would be is lost in his gasp when Darcy puts her mouth on him, dragging her tongue against the underside of his cock as she takes him deep into her throat. His hand in her hair tightens but not enough to restrict her movement as she moves her mouth up and down his hard cock.

Darcy uses one hand to brace herself against his flexing thigh and the other to gently massage his balls, gratified by the moan it pulls from him. She loves doing this, loves seeing and hearing and feeling how she’s affecting him. Warmth is growing between her thighs, but she ignores it, focusing on bringing him off.

Bucky’s cock twitches in her mouth, and she has a feeling he’s close. She takes him as deep as she can, nose pressed against his body, and swallows around him. He warns her that he’s close and tugs at her hair, but she keeps her mouth on him until he’s coming down her throat with a groan.

Darcy pulls back slowly, pressing a kiss to the ferris wheel on his thigh, looking up at the wrecked expression on his face. Bucky takes her hands in his, pulling her up to her feet and kissing the hell out of her. And look, she’s already head over heels for Bucky, but he keeps doing things like this that make her like him more. Do you know how many guys refuse to kiss a woman after she blows him? Too many!

Darcy’s slick between the thighs but hadn’t been planning on bothering to do anything about it, but Bucky seems to have other ideas. He turns her around until her back is pressed to his chest, wrapping an arm around her middle. His lips drag down the side of her throat, then his free hand moves between her legs, fingers circling her hard little clit.

Darcy gasps, grasping the arm around her as he pulls pleasure from her. He presses biting kisses to her throat as he moves his fingers between her thighs. Her whimpers echo throughout the bathroom, and she has a brief hysterical thought about Ingrid and Bartholomew hearing, but then Bucky’s stroking a finger over her slit, and that thought flits away.

“Too sore?” he asks, gathering her wetness on the tip of his finger.

“No,” she says, adjusting her stance to give him better access.

She can feel his grin against her neck, then he’s easing a long finger into her, drawing a whimper. She’s a bit tender, but not sore, and he’s moving gently inside her, crooking his finger and searching for her g-spot, humming in triumph when he finds it. His thumb presses against the side of her clit as his finger moves inside her, and she’s really reevaluating all her shower sex opinions.

“Bucky!” Darcy gasps, starting to tremble in his grasp.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” Bucky murmurs, nipping at the shell of her ear. “Let me hear you.”

She starts to tighten around him, soft little noises falling from her lips as the tension ratchets higher inside her. She’s so close, and he can tell, keeping his rhythm steady until she’s coming with a cry, shaking in his arms. Bucky holds her tightly through it, slowly withdrawing his finger when she stops clenching around it.

Bucky presses a kiss to her temple and lets go, hands gliding over wet skin before they fall away completely. Darcy starts to turn around, but Bucky stops her with a hand on her back.

“What?” she asks, then a moment later his hands are in her hair again.

“Conditioner,” he says.

“I’ve dated men who didn’t even know what conditioner was,” Darcy says, pleased that even though her heart is still racing, her voice isn’t shaking.

“Did they have hair as soft as mine?” Bucky teases.

Darcy laughs. “No, they definitely didn’t.”

They manage to eventually finish showering, despite wandering hands. Bucky lends her a pair of red and black plaid boxers and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt to wear while he cooks breakfast in only a pair of black sweatpants and his Snoopy apron.

Darcy sits at the kitchen peninsula, scrunching her wet hair with a towel while Bucky cooks. He’s making french toast, which smells divine. She’s shamelessly checking him out, and he certainly doesn’t seem to mind, only raising an eyebrow when she cocks her head to stare at his ass and almost overbalances and topples off her stool.

“I am taking no criticism at this time,” she says once she’s sitting up again, grasping the edge of the peninsula.

“I wouldn’t dream of offering any,” Bucky says with a grin, flipping over a piece of french toast on the skillet. His phone on the counter lights up with a text, and Bucky picks it up once he flips the other piece of french toast. “Steve and Sharon are sorry to crash our morning, but Sharon’s work laptop is here, and they have to come pick it up.”

Darcy shrugs and takes a drink of her coffee. Bucky buys the good stuff. “They’re the ones that have to see this big-ass hickey,” Darcy says, laughing when Bucky’s eyes drop to the crook of her neck where he’d left a spectacularly livid mark. “When will they be here?”

“Fifteen minutes,” Bucky says.

“I didn’t expect to meet Sharon while wearing your underwear, but hopefully it’ll be a common occurrence, so she probably should get used to it,” Darcy says.

“I’m never gonna complain about seeing you in my clothes,” he says, looking at her with an expression like he’d love to prove it if he didn’t have to flip french toast. “Hell, I’ll wear yours. My cleavage won’t be as impressive, but I’ll do what I can.”

Darcy laughs. “Think we could get you in a pair of my panties?” she asks, waggling her eyebrows.

Bucky doesn’t look disgusted but intrigued, and that’s of course when they hear Steve’s keys in the door followed by some very loud footsteps, like they’re working hard to make themselves heard.

“Hi, Steve!” Darcy yells.

“Hi!” Steve yells back, rounding the corner and coming into view a moment later, a pretty blond woman Darcy recognizes from Steve’s Instagram. “This is Sharon. Sharon, this is Darcy.”

“Hi,” Sharon says, offering her hand. Darcy shakes it. “Nice to meet you. Sorry for interrupting.”

“It’s all good. We already had morning sex,” Darcy says.

“Nice!” Sharon says, giving her a high five. “We did not. Because I grabbed my laptop bag and didn’t notice my laptop wasn’t actually in it. Be right back.”

Sharon heads toward Steve’s room, so Darcy turns her attention toward Steve, who gives her a look and glances at her neck.

“If you think I’m embarrassed, you have another thing coming,” Darcy says.

“Right, shameless. Forgot,” Steve says, grinning. He cranes his neck to see what Bucky’s cooking. “Can I get some of that?”

“I’m not feeding you before my girlfriend when you’re morning-after crashing,” Bucky says, throwing a dish towel at him.

Steve ducks and is about to throw the towel back, then Sharon appears over his shoulder, plucking the towel out of his hand and tossing it to Darcy.

“Anyway,” Sharon says. “Nice to meet you again. We’ll leave you guys alone.” She takes Steve by the arm, though he still looks like he wants to make a play for a piece of french toast, and pulls him out.

“Do you not cook for Steve?” Darcy asks as they hear the door lock after Steve and Sharon.

“I do,” Bucky says. “The punk just always wants food.”

“He and I have that in common,” Darcy says, grinning when he hands her a plate of french toast. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Bucky says. He joins her a minute later with his own plate and a bottle of warmed syrup.

Darcy takes a bite and groans. “Holy shit.” Natasha was right. “This is so good. How are you literally the man of my dreams? You’re gorgeous, amazing in bed, and make excellent french toast, my favorite breakfast food. It’s like I dreamed you up.”

Bucky blushes a lot more than she’d expected, and it makes her feel all bubbly and happy, so she takes another bite of french toast before she says something dumb.

“I think that’s my line,” he says. “Fun plans this week?”

Darcy hums around her bite of french toast. “Well,” she says once she’s swallowed, “Clint sent me and Jane a list of sex toy recs. I was going to try to head to that shop by campus at some point.”

She hadn’t really considered the idea that another man sending her sex toys recommendations might rub Bucky the wrong way until she’d already said it. Oops? Bucky doesn’t seem to mind though, snorting and shaking his head.

“Of course he did,” he says, though he can’t hide the interest in his face. “Clint’s very passionate about sex toys. He has a powerpoint he shows when he’s drunk. Or tired. Or wired. Or bored.”

Jealous crisis averted, cool.

“Want to come with me?” she asks, grinning at the clear interest in his expression. “Play your cards right and I might even let you pick some lingerie out for me.”

Bucky groans, closing his eyes. “How am I supposed to go to work and focus when you say that?”

“Carefully, I’d expect,” Darcy says. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes, absolutely,” Bucky says. “What days are you free?”

“Tomorrow and the day after, then I work a few long shifts,” she says.

“Tomorrow then,” Bucky says.

Bucky walks out with her later that morning, his arm around her shoulders. He tries to walk her to her bus stop, but she pushes him toward his subway station, pointing out that he’s getting close to being late for work. He pouts and grumbles something about being a business owner, but she cuts him off with a deep kiss, and that shuts him up for a good long while. Until he really does have to leave before he’s late.

Darcy’s aware that she’s in a classic walk of shame dress, but like she’s said, she has no shame. Her black dress is a little wrinkled, and she’s wearing a black and blue flannel of Bucky’s with the sleeves rolled up several times so her hands are visible, but this is New York, and she’s hardly the strangest-dressed person on the street at eleven a.m.

Jane’s home when Darcy waltzes in, calling out dramatically. “Jane-y bug! I have been slain!”

“Slain?” Jane calls from the living room, appearing a few moments later with two highlighters in the bun atop her head. She looks at the hickey disappearing under the collar of Bucky’s flannel, her expression going sly. “Oh, that slain.”

“You remember the stoner who lived next to us sophomore year?” Darcy asks. “It was better than that.”

“Better than the stoner of multiple orgasms?” Jane says. “Damn, good for you.”

“I know,” Darcy says, sighing happily. “I’m gonna keep him.”

“I’d check you for a concussion if you said otherwise,” Jane says.

Bucky meets Darcy at her apartment the next day, and they take the bus to the little sex shop near campus. They’re greeted by a cheery woman with purple streaks in her dark hair who hands them a basket and tells them about the sales and to let her know if they have any questions. They thank her and start perusing.

The store is on the small side, but it’s organized well and doesn’t feel cramped. They start at lingerie since it’s closest, and she knows Bucky’s stoked for this. She usually goes for corsets or chemises, but she’s curious to see what Bucky’s preference is. They browse for a fit, Bucky not really seeing anything that seems to catch his eye, until they’re on one of the last racks. His fingers still on the hanger, and Darcy circles the rack to stand next to him and look at what he’s got.

It’s a black bra, panties, and garter set with deep sapphire blue accents. It’s probably not something she’d pick for herself, but she does like it, and judging by the look on Bucky’s face, it’s very much his style. Darcy hums and rifles through the hangers, not really expecting to find her size and pleasantly surprised when she does.

Bucky’s looking at her with a hungry expression that he probably thinks he’s controlling well as she puts the set in the little basket next to the strappy bustier she’d already grabbed.

“It was such a bad choice to do this before I have to work,” Bucky grumbles.

“I won’t send you pictures modeling them then,” Darcy says airily, making him groan. She just laughs and pulls up Clint’s list on her phone before heading into the toys section.

Jane hadn’t been able to make it, but she’d told Darcy what she wants and that she’ll Venmo her later. Darcy grabs Jane’s choices first, adding them to the bag, before perusing the rest of Clint’s list. He’d put Satisfyer Pro 2 at the top of the list surrounded by heart and star emojis. She’d grabbed one for Jane and adds another to the basket for herself.

Bucky had been intrigued by the WeVibe and picks a hot pink one from the shelf. Darcy’s particularly excited to try that one. It’s vaguely shaped like a C, with the thinner side meant for insertion, the thicker side resting outside over the clit. So whenever he thrusts, the thin part inside her would press against her g-spot. She is so interested.

They get to the register, the same woman with purple hair ringing them up, when Darcy remembers she forgot to grab lube. By the time she makes it back to the register, Bucky is pocketing the receipt with a slightly smug smile. Darcy sighs in exasperation as she hands the lube to be scanned by the amused cashier.

“You have got to stop paying for everything,” Darcy says, thanking the worker and dropping the lube in the bag Bucky’s carrying. “I can pull my weight, you know.”

Bucky holds the door open for her, and she thanks him as she follows him out into the oppressive late June heat. She has a horrible feeling this summer is going to be balls hot. He frowns down at her, like he’s working something out.

“What?” she asks.

“I think,” he says slowly, taking her hand as they start walking toward the subway station, “that I like to pay because I have more disposable income at the moment, and the idea of taking care of you is something I like.” His cheeks are tinged a bit pink as he says it, and Darcy can’t help the flutter it gives her.

“And I think maybe,” he continues, “that you might feel like you’re taking advantage because of how your parents treated you like you owed them something because of money they spent on you while growing up.”

Darcy’s knee jerk reaction is to be annoyed, but before she makes a snippy comment, she lets herself think about that. She blinks, pausing where they’re walking, Bucky tugging her to the side so they don’t block the sidewalk.

“Huh,” she says, looking blankly at a billboard ad for perfume across the street as connections snap in place in her mind, putting together some past behaviors and arguments with boyfriends, Jane, and Thor. She blinks a few times and looks back up at Bucky. “Sorry, I’m just reevaluating a lot of things.”

Bucky smiles gently, kissing her temple. “Want to chew on that for a while before we discuss it again?”

“Yeah,” she says, letting Bucky lead her back into the stream of sidewalk traffic. “I was not expecting a mild existential crisis to go with sex toy shopping.”

An older man gives them a strange look as he walks by, but Darcy is sure they’re far from the weirdest people he’s seen today. Bucky raises their clasped hands, kissing the back of Darcy’s hand as they walk.

“Sorry,” Bucky says, squeezing her hand.

“No, don’t be,” Darcy says. “I’m much more excited about those,” she adds, pointing to the bag Bucky’s carrying in his other hand. “Such a shame you have to work.”

Bucky groans. “I know, and it’s not even a short day. I have appointments until 8:00 tonight,” he says.

“So I shouldn’t send you some reviews of our purchases when I get home?” she asks innocently.

Bucky groans, grip on her hand momentarily tightening. “I—” He has to clear his throat when it comes out like a croak. “I sure wouldn’t complain.”

Darcy grins.

They part in the subway station, Bucky heading to work and her going in the opposite direction to her apartment. She actually has some homework to do, so she doesn’t end up testing anything that she’s bought right when she gets home. Instead, she drops the stuff she got for Jane on her and Thor’s bed and heads back to the living room where her books and notes are still spread out over the coffee table.

She pauses a few hours later to get something to eat. While her leftovers are heating up, she opens the bag from the sex shop, pulling out the handful of toys she’d bought and setting them on their respective chargers. She hesitates before thinking fuck it, pulling the black and blue lingerie out from the bag.

Her luck with lingerie in general is very hit or miss thanks to her bust size, so she’s not really expecting it to fit very well, but she’s pleasantly surprised that the band is just a little tight. She has a hook extender that she pulls out from her underwear drawer, and bam, a perfect fit. Darcy takes off the tags before pulling on the matching panties and garter belt. She doesn’t have any stockings or thigh-highs to clip to the garters, but she’s sure Bucky isn’t going to complain.

Darcy sets her phone on top of her dresser and turns on the camera, angling it just right to get her in the frame. Setting the timer, she takes a few steps back but doesn’t get the pose right in time before the timer goes off. Huffing, she sets the time a little longer and tries again. It takes a couple times for her to get one she likes. She changes into her pajamas before sending her favorite shot to Bucky along with a text telling him not to open it in front of a client. Hopefully he’ll see the text preview on his screen before opening it, but if not, oh well.

The leftover fried rice needs to be put back in the microwave since Darcy took so much time with the lingerie, and by the time it’s ready, Jane is walking in with her giant backpack.

“Honey, I’m home!” she calls out.

“Hi!” Darcy yells back. “I put your stuff on your bed!”

“Oh, hell yes,” she hears Jane say before her footsteps disappear down the hall to her room.

Darcy takes her fried rice and heads back to the living room, sitting cross legged in her favorite oversized pink chair. She’s part way through her food, an old Simpsons episode playing, when she gets a text back from Bucky. It’s only 6:30 p.m., so she’s sure he’s just taking a short break on the backpiece he’s working on tonight.

The first text from him is a bunch of exclamation points and Fuck. Darcy laughs, and a minute later, she gets You’re absolutely killing me, doll. That looks incredible on you.

Darcy grins, texting back It’s a shame you’re a responsible adult with a responsible adult job.

Yeah, I hate it, Bucky says. I have to get back. Thank you for sending me that, sweetheart. I’ll text you when I’m off.

Darcy goes back to her Simpsons episode, joined shortly by Jane.

“Sorry,” Jane says, dropping onto the couch next to Darcy’s chair with her own bowl of Chinese food leftovers. “Thor called, and we haven’t been able to talk in the last few days.”

“How’s he doing?” she asks. “Ready to murder his brother yet?”

“No, surprisingly,” Darcy says. “They’ve been visiting Odin’s side of the family for the last few days, and he and Loki are both ready to just toss them all off a cliff.”

Darcy snorts. After hearing the stories about some of Thor’s uncles’ arrogant shenanigans, she doesn’t find that hard to believe.

“Well, brotherly bonding, I guess,” she says. “He looking forward to using those adult items?”

Jane doesn’t even blush, the nerve. “Thor knows toys are his allies, not his competition,” Jane says.

“Smart man.”

A couple days later, Darcy’s on the bus home from an early class, scrolling through Instagram, when she sees a story from Jane. It’s a picture of Thor with a bouquet of dahlias, a large grin on his face. The caption on it says, “Guess who got an earlier flight?!”

It’s a day earlier than they’d expected him, and Darcy is pretty sure he and Jane are going to have a very loud reunion. Darcy makes a split-second decision and pulls the cord for the next stop. She hops off the bus and takes another that brings her to the Avengers Tattoo.

Sam is at the front counter when she walks in, reading with his feet kicked up on the table. He startles when the bell over the door goes off, feet landing on the floor hard. He realizes it’s her a moment later, sighing and letting his forehead thunk against the desk.

“Son of a bitch,” he mutters. “Between you and Barnes, I’m going to have an early heart attack.”

“Um, I know for a fact that you’re the one that booby trapped his door with a confetti popper,” Darcy says. “So, stones and glass houses here.”

“To be fair, he started it,” he says.

“If you say so,” she says, grinning. “Can I do my homework in your breakroom? Thor just got back from his family trip, and he and Jane are probably in the middle of very enthusiastic and loud reunion sex,”

“Sure, sure,” Sam says, waving her toward the breakroom. “I’ll let him know you’re here when he has a break between appointments.”

“Thanks, Sam!” she calls over her shoulder.

The curtains are drawn on Steve’s, Natasha’s, and Bucky’s stations, so she doesn’t see anyone else as she slips into the breakroom. Luckily, she’s pretty caught up on her work. She only has a few writing assignments she’s been avoiding for her obnoxious professor.

One of her small writing assignments is to write from the perspective of a historical character. It’s a wildly broad topic, but it reminds Darcy of the Royal Diaries book series she read in elementary school, and it gives her an idea about doing a diary entry for Alice Roosevelt (she’d had a huge Alice Roosevelt phase in high school). She’s at least 1,000 words over the requirement, but she’s in the zone now, so she just keeps writing. She doesn’t even notice Bucky comes into the room until he clears his throat.

Darcy jumps, looking up with wide eyes. He’s leaning against the doorframe with a grin and pushes off the wall, walking toward her once she sees him. “I thought Sam was kidding when he said you were here.”

“Why?” Darcy asks, standing to kiss him when he gets to the table. He hums against her lips, dragging the kiss out longer than she’d intended, but she certainly isn’t complaining.

“Because it would be just like him to get me excited to see you when you weren’t here,” he says. He drags a chair from the other side of the table to sit next to her, arm draped over the back of her chair. “What are you working on?”

“Well, it’s for my writing class, but I’m way over the word requirement and need a break,” she says, closing her laptop. “How’s your day been?”

“Busy,” he says. “It’s nice to be booked solid, and I’ll never complain about the shop doing well, but I’m glad to have a break. Actually,” he looks at her consideringly, “want to help me pick out jewelry?”

“Sure?” she says, and Bucky hops up, jogging out of the breakroom. “For you?!”

She doesn’t get an answer, just hears his laugh from the main part of the studio. He’s back a few seconds later with the iPad from his station. He sits back down next to her and sets the iPad in front of them. It’s open to what looks like a body jewelry site, and that makes a lot more sense.

“We need to put in another order, and other than some basic barbells and rings, Natasha and I need to pick some fun pieces,” he says.

“Oh fun,” she says, leaning forward to peer at the iPad.

They scroll through a lot of options while munching on the leftover pizza in the breakroom fridge, Bucky bookmarking the things that catch her eye. She actually gasps at a teardrop shaped septum ring with iridescent gems. It reminds her of a septum ring for a fairy princess. They narrow it down to a couple dozen pieces, most of which Bucky is sure Natasha will love, until Sam pops his head in, letting Bucky know his next appointment is here.

“This is my last appointment of the day,” Bucky says. “Wanna wait and come home with me?”

“Yes please,” Darcy says. “Jane and Thor are definitely not done yet.”

Bucky laughs, presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth, and heads back to the main studio. She likes this goober so much.

Darcy is able to get most of her homework done by the time Bucky’s done. They walk out of the shop hand in hand, Bucky pouting because Darcy wouldn’t let him carry her backpack. She dozes against his shoulder a bit on the bus ride back to his place, his face amused as he wakes her up before their stop.

Darcy likes spending time at Bucky’s place. Beyond it being nice to not just spend time at her own apartment all the time, she likes Bucky’s apartment. She likes the way his personality seeps into his casual habits, his room, even his fridge shelf. Steve’s shelf has everything haphazardly tossed around, while Bucky’s is neatly ordered.

Darcy and Bucky head to his room, where Darcy drops her backpack next to his dresser. They usually will get a bite to eat and watch something mindless while they wind down from the day, but it’s a few hours earlier than usual, and Bucky has a certain look in his eye that makes Darcy think food is the last thing on his mind.

Darcy grins, taking a few steps into his arms. He wraps his arms around her, tugging her to his chest, eyes dark, face hungry.

“What’s on your mind, babe?” she asks, dragging her hands down his chest.

“I’m thinking about you, me, and the WeVibe in my nightstand drawer,” he says, voice a deep rumble, fingers trailing down her spine.

Darcy shivers in his grasp, grin widening. She goes on her tiptoes to kiss him, opening her mouth eagerly when his tongue swipes over her lips. She’s never going to get tired of kissing Bucky. She could easily spend hours like this, but they both have a specific destination in mind now, so she lets him walk her back toward his bed, falling back when the back of her knees hit the mattress.

Bucky looks hungrily down at her before kneeling by her feet, pulling off her shoes and socks before snagging his thumbs in the waistband on her leggings, pulling them slowly down her legs. She sits up long enough to tug her shirt over her head, dropping it to the side of the bed. Her bra and panties don’t match, but going by the look on Bucky’s face, he doesn’t mind that at all.

It takes him a second to wrench his eyes from her long enough to pull his shirt off, crawling on the bed after her as she scoots her way up the mattress so her legs don’t hang off the bed. There’s a definite bugle at the front of his jeans, but then he’s removing her panties and shouldering his way between her thighs.

Darcy doesn’t think she’s ever going to get over Bucky’s mouth. He knows exactly how to touch her, how she needs to start gently before he can roll his tongue over her hard little clit. He knows exactly how hard to flutter his tongue against her, exactly when to slide a finger into her, when she’s desperate to feel something inside of her. It takes him almost no time at all to coax an orgasm from her, two fingers tucked inside her, his lips gently sucking on her clit.

Bucky presses a kiss to her inner thigh before leaning over her to open his nightstand. He comes back with the pink WeVibe. Darcy grins, spreading her legs wide when he settles back down between her legs. Bucky drags the end of the that goes inside her through her folds, coating it with her wetness, bumping against her oversensitive clit just often enough to be enticing and not painful.

“Bucky,” she groans when he teases it at her opening.

“Hmm?” he hums, smirking slightly.

“Come on,” she says, proud that her voice is only a little breathy.

Bucky hums again, like he’s considering it, before slowly pressing the end of the C-shaped WeVibe into her. It’s a thin vibrator that presses right up against her g-spot, the rest of the toy pressed against her clit. Every time Bucky thrusts into her, he’s going to press that vibrator against her g-spot and nudge the outer one against her clit.

She shivers as he shallowly fucks her with the toy before letting it settle inside her. The bulge at the front of his jeans is more pronounced now, and when he takes them off, his cock is hard and flushed. She bites her lip as he crawls up her body, his erection pressing against her mound. He leans down to give her a filthy kiss before pulling back to line the tip of his cock up with her opening. He looks up to make sure she’s ready, and when she enthusiastically nods, he slowly presses forward, the tip of his cock nudging into her.

It’s more a stretch than usual with the end of the toy already inside her, even if it is thin. She’s not complaining though. It’s a stretch she loves. She arches her back as he keeps pushing into her, the toy being pressed hard against her g-spot. It’s not even on yet and she’s already out of breath.

Finally, Bucky’s sheathed completely inside her, the silicone inside her pressed between the two of them. His hands are tight on her waist, his teeth gritted as he gets used to the sensation.

“Ready?” he asks, his voice a bit shaky.

“Yes,” she breathes, and her voice isn’t much better off than his.

Bucky fumbles for the vibrator’s remote on the mattress before straightening back up, his other hand tight on her hip. He hits a button on the remote and the toy buzzes to life, pressed against her g-spot and clit.

“Fuck!” Darcy gasps, cunt clenching around Bucky and the toy, wrenching a loud moan from Bucky, his eyes squeezed closed as he takes slow, deep breaths.

“Jesus,” he grunts, opening his eyes. His knuckles are white from gripping her so hard. “You good?”

“So good,” she says, rolling her hips experimentally, drawing gasps from both of them. She presses the heel of her foot against the back of his thigh, encouraging him to move.

Bucky doesn’t need to be told twice. He pulls out slowly, eyes dark and trained on where their bodies are connected. He looks back up at her then and thrusts back in, the jostling of the toy making her whimper. She’s such a fan.

Bucky finds a slow rhythm, slower than what they usually do, but with the addition of the toy, it’s necessary. It’s overwhelmingly good, but any faster would just be too much, so she rolls her hips into his thrusts, moaning at each shift of the vibrator inside her and against her clit, enjoy the luxurious pace.

She feels like a hedonist, a constant hum of pleasure running through her, Bucky pressing open-mouth kisses to her collarbone, her neck, the corner of her mouth. Bucky’s usually a fantastic dirty talker, but right now, the only sounds he’s making are grunts and moans, like he’s just focused on feeling as much as she is.

It takes very little time to feel the stirrings of her next orgasm start to build. Her moans get higher, more staccato, thighs clenching on either side of Bucky’s hips. Bucky drags a hand up her torso, massaging her breast before rolling her hard nipple between his finger. She whimpers out his name, starting to tighten around Bucky and the toy inside her.

Bucky grasps her hips and rises higher on his knees, the new angle pushing deliciously against her g-spot. She doesn’t have any leverage this way, just has to let Bucky fuck down into her, and she fucking loves it.

“Bucky,” she whines, trying to let him know she’s close.

“I know, sweetheart,” he grunt, his thrusts getting shorter and quicker.

It’s barely thirty second later that she’s coming, her orgasm wrenched from her by the insistent vibrations between her thighs and Bucky’s cock moving inside her. It rolls over her in waves, making her shake a cry out with it.

She’s getting close to being oversensitive, but she can tell Bucky’s close, his thrusts short and quick, his thighs starting to shake. It’s less than a minute late that he’s coming, nails digging into her skin as his cock jerks inside her.

Bucky, always quick to get oversensitive, fumbles for the remote and quickly turns the vibrations off, taking a moment to catch his breath before slowly withdrawing, lowering her back to the bed. Darcy gingerly pulls out the WeVibe and sets it to the side. She’ll clean it once her legs are working again.

Bucky collapses next to her, both of them struggling to catch their breath. She rolls onto her side, throwing an arm over his waist.

“So,” she says, clearing her throat when it comes out rough. “I’d call that a success.”

“Agreed,” Bucky says, huffing out a little laugh. He lifts his hand up and says, “We’re so good at this. High five.”

Darcy slaps her hand against his. “Hell yeah, we are.”

Chapter Text

Darcy’s summer classes are flying by. She’s spending nearly all her time either studying or with Bucky. Sometimes studying with Bucky. It’s been busy enough that her final tattoo appointment sneaks up on her. She’s lying on Bucky’s couch, her feet in his lap, reading a book while he hate watches Ink Master. He has a whole well-used rant about how the time limit makes the artists rush and ruin tattoos, which she doesn’t disagree with at all.

“That’s horrible,” Bucky says in disgust, looking at the thick, uneven lines on the fairy tattoo. “She’s going to need at least two sessions to cover that up.”

“I’m very glad I never listened to my freshman roommate when she wanted us to try to get on that show,” Darcy says, grinning when it makes Bucky’s hands twitch on her ankles. “You’d be fixing two shitty tattoos instead of one.”

“That reminds me, your next appointment is Thursday,” Bucky says.

Darcy blinks. “It’s already July 26th?” she says.

“Almost,” Bucky says. “It feels like we’ve been going out longer than two months.”

Darcy blinks again. “What the f—it’s only been two months?”

Bucky laughs. “I was as surprised as you are,” he says.

Darcy is early for her appointment, so she sits behind the desk with Natasha and plays Go Fish.

“Do you have any…pink…nesting dolls? Where did you get these cards?” Darcy says.

“Go fish,” Natasha says. “They were at this little Russian deli that closed a few years ago. Any ushankas?”

“Is that the little hat?”

“It’s the little hat.”

“Damn it,” Darcy says, handing two over.

Natasha makes a noise of triumph and throws the four matching cards down.

“I can’t remember the last time I got stomped on this badly at Go Fish,” Darcy says.

“Don’t beat yourself up. It’s happened to Clint and Sam three times since Monday,” Natasha says.

“Great,” Darcy says. “Got any, uh, triangle guitars?”

Natasha laughs. “A balalaika,” Natasha says, handing one over.

They hear footsteps and look up to see Bucky leading a slightly miffed-looking woman to the front. Natasha and Darcy slide their chairs back, letting Bucky get to the register. He stops to kiss Darcy before turning back to ring out his customer. She doesn’t miss the pinched look that crosses the woman’s face.

“Any bears?” Natasha asks, ignoring her completely.

“Daaaamn it,” Darcy says, watching as Natasha victoriously throws down her last set. “Do you get tired of winning?”

“No,” Natasha says.

“Don’t ever play Scrabble with her,” Bucky says, having finished at the register, the door closing behind his customer as she leaves. “It’s a goddamn bloodbath.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Natasha says, though Darcy doesn’t have a time believing it at all. “Did Amber try to hit on you?”

“Yeah,” Bucky says with a sigh. “I owe you $20.”

“She hit on Steve when he tattooed her first, then on Sam,” Natasha says. “Persistent.”

“I mean, I get it,” Darcy says, looking over at Bucky with an exaggerated eyebrow waggle. “But also, I’d be way too embarrassed to hit on someone where I’d already struck out twice. So, ballsy.”

“Natasha’s probably next, then,” Bucky says. “Ready, sweetheart?”

“Yep,” Darcy says. “Tired of losing to the master of games over here.”

“Next time is Goonies Monopoly!” Natasha calls after them.

“There’s a Goonies Monopoly?!” Darcy says, but Bucky steers her to his station by the shoulders.

“You can Google it while I work,” he says. “Otherwise I’ll lose you to Natasha and novelty Monopoly for the next hour.”

“You know me well,” Darcy agrees.

This appointment is nothing like the first two. Sure, the pain is about the same, and her eyes go to the art on his wall, but she isn’t as embarrassingly distracted by how attractive her artist is. Oh, she’s very aware, she’d have to be blind not to be, but she doesn’t feel like the same horny weirdo looking at him now. She’s allowed to look at him now, and she doesn’t even have to try to not get caught.

They chat easily as he works, Bucky occasionally narrating what he’s doing. Jane had called him the night before to talk about the Andromeda and Triangulum galaxies he’d be finishing up in the owl’s eyes. It was adorable. He’d taken notes.

“What are you thinking for dinner?” Darcy asks after they’ve been sitting in a comfortable silence for a while.

“Whatever you want,” Bucky says. “You’re the one being stabbed. You get to pick.”

“How do you feel about pizza?”

“I always feel great about pizza,” Bucky says. “If I ever say otherwise, it’s an imposter, run.”

Darcy snorts, careful to move her ribs as little as possible. They’re debating pizza toppings when Darcy’s phone buzzes.

“If this is another coupon from Mama’s Pizza, we know it’s a sign from the pizza gods,” she says, putting in her passcode. “Oh,” she says, wrinkling her nose.

“What?” Bucky asks, setting the machine aside to wipe off the tattoo.

“My parents,” she says. “They looked at the NYU summer term dates and saw that I’m off before my birthday, so they want us to go to their house for a birthday dinner.”

“Us as in you and me?” Bucky asks.

“Yeah, they don’t invite Jane and Thor anymore since Jane slapped my brother,” Darcy says. “Apparently my mom’s best friend’s secretary’s assistant saw us at the baseball game last week, so now they want to meet you.”

“How did your mom’s best friend’s secretary’s assistant even know what you look like?” Bucky asks.

“Because they’re all nosy motherfuckers,” Darcy says. “I forgot I promised to do a birthday dinner with them since I skipped out on Christmas.”

“Oof,” Bucky says, wincing in sympathy.

“It seemed like a good tradeoff at the time,” Darcy says. “Well, I still think it was. We went to Jane’s mom’s place in London, and it was fantastic.”

“It does sound a lot better,” Bucky says. “Well, we can do your parents’ dinner, then the next day do an actual birthday celebration.”

“You don’t mind going?” Darcy says. “Like, you’ve heard what I’ve said about them, right?”

Bucky snorts. “Yeah, I’m not expecting to like them, but if the other choice is not going and letting you fend for yourself, I’m not doing that,” he says, and Darcy just feels her heart swell. Then, “We can’t let you lose their rent help. Your place has the good AC,” he says with a wink.

Darcy laughs. “Ah, your true motives become clear,” she teases. She sets her phone back down without answering her mom’s text.

“Ready to start again?” Bucky asks.

“Yep,” Darcy says, settling back down.

She tries not to ruminate on her parents, not wanting them to ruin her afternoon, but there’s a cloud of irritation hanging over her that she really doesn’t want. She eventually opens Hulu and puts on a random nature documentary when Bucky suggests she watch something to take her mind off it. He knows her well; less than ten minutes later, she’s completely engrossed in an episode about deep sea fish.

“Should I get an angler fish tattoo?” Darcy asks.

Bucky glances at the screen. “Maybe think on it a bit,” he says.

A few seconds later, the angler fish chomps another fish in half. “Yeah, never mind,” she says. Bucky chuckles and keeps on working on the owl’s eyes.

Darcy is enjoying this session much less than the last one. It’s been a while since she had a tattoo that required packing in a lot of color, and she’d forgotten just how spicy it can get, especially on her ribs. Bucky’s good about making her take breaks because if it was up to her, she’d just power through it. But Bucky forces her to take snack breaks and insists she drinks half a bottle of Gatorade from his minifridge before he starts again.

“We can stop,” Bucky says. “We don’t have to finish it all today.”

“Nope, we absolutely do,” Darcy says. “I have my brave face on and everything.”

Bucky huffs a laugh and begins working again. Darcy grits her teeth against the pain. It’s a lot harder to zone out like last time, and she eventually abandons the nature documentary, not having taken in a second in the last twenty minutes. Bucky’s good about knowing when it’s getting to be too much and moves on to a different area for a bit. She tries Thor’s meditation deep breathing exercises, and it helps a little, but what’s really driving her is Bucky’s promise of emotional support frozen yogurt tonight.

Bucky keeps up a steady stream of idle chitchat, knowing the distraction will help. He updates her on Becca settling in at Stanford and on the girl she’s crushing on (she still hasn’t asked her out, despite Bucky and Darcy both badering her to). Sam has been spending a lot of time with a new girlfriend, so Bucky unfortunately hasn’t had the opportunity to pay him back for his most recent prank (a rubber chicken in Bucky’s Triumph’s exhaust pipe, which she thinks hardly counts as a prank).

It feels like forever until Bucky tells her, “Just fifteen minutes left.”

She lets out a shaky breath since the machine is off her skin while he gets more ink. “Thank you,” she says. “Light at the end of the tunnel.”

Bucky snorts. “If that helps, yes,” he says.

She tries not to stare at the clock over his shoulder, a watched pot never boils and all that, but she can’t help glancing at it often. Bucky’s switched out some of the art on his wall, so she forces herself to look at each in intricate detail, eyes taking in every feature of the elaborate armor on a Joan of Arc painting before moving on to the next, a painting of elaborate antique jewelry that looks very much like Natasha’s work.

Darcy is squinting at a small print of a moth or a butterfly, she can’t tell which, when Bucky turns his machine off. She looks up hopefully, and he grins and says, “We’re all done. Let me just do a little cleanup before you get up.”

The paper towel being run over the fresh tattoo feels awful, but the witch hazel helps as he finishes cleaning it. He helps her sit up, and she hops off the table to get to the mirror he has hanging on the wall. The pain has all been worth it when she sees the final, completed tattoo. He’s packed in black around the bright colors of the galaxies in the owl’s eyes and finished up some white touches, and it looks incredible.

“I love it,” Darcy says, grinning widely, nearly bouncing on her toes in excitement. “That’s not even a big enough word. This is so incredibly better than what I could have imagined. Thank you!”

She glances at his reflection in the mirror, and he’s smiling down at her, looking delighted that she likes it. “Any changes you’d like to make?” he asks.

She looks back down at the owl on her side, carefully taking in each inch of the feathers and beak and eyes. “There’s not a thing I would change,” she says. “You, Bucky Barnes, are a master artist.”

It’s very cute that he blushes at that, as if he isn’t one of the most sought-after artists in the area. It’s also cute that he tries to give her like 90% off, which she absolutely refuses. He, in turn, refuses to let her pay more than 70%, so she slips Natasha some money when Bucky is grabbing his stuff from the breakroom. Natasha winks, and Darcy knows Bucky’s going to find the cash where he least expects it.

They stop at Mama’s Pizza on the way back to Darcy’s apartment, getting enough to feed Jane and Thor too. Bucky stands at her side on the bus, making sure no one bumps into the fresh tattoo. He always stands close to her on public transit, though, happy to glare anyone into submission if they try to get cheeky or handsy. He nearly broke the hand of a guy who tried to grope her last week, and there’s a part of her that really, really enjoyed that.

“We have pizza!” Darcy calls when she opens her front door, holding it for Bucky to walk in with said pizza.

“What kind?” Jane yells back. A second later, she’s flying out the door from her room, Thor hot on her heels. The state of both of their hair makes it very clear what they’d been doing.

“A sausage, a Hawaiian, and an everything pie from Mama’s,” Darcy says.

“Hell yes,” Jane says, following them into the kitchen. “How’d the last session go? Can I see?”

Darcy pulls up the side of her shirt, showing the cling-wrapped tattoo. “You can’t really see it right now since it’s still a little oozy,” she says. “But I’ll show you when I wash it later.”

“I’m sure it’s great,” Jane says. “I don’t think Bucky knows how to do bad work.”

“Don’t ever look at the ones Steve and I did on each other when we were practicing,” Bucky says. “His thigh looks like I covered it in Blair Witch symbols.”

“I’m putting on Jurassic Park!” Thor calls from the living room, where he’s already seated with his six pieces of pizza.

“Wait for us!” Jane yells back, quickly piling a couple slices onto her own plate and running out.

Bucky snorts out a laugh as he grabs plates for him and Darcy. “The one downside,” he says quietly, so Jane and Thor won’t hear, “is that now I can’t do some wicked things with you for a while.”

Darcy grins, going on tiptoes to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “Lucky for me you ate me out for an hour this morning,” she says, letting out a little giggle at the way his eyes darken.

“It was the least I could do,” Bucky says, clearing his throat and straightening up.

“Very gentlemanly of you.”

The last two weeks before finals have been running Darcy ragged. She’s much better than last time, when Bucky had to remind her to sleep and eat at regular intervals, but she’s still marinating in stress. She and Jane have plenty of study sessions at Roxy’s Diner (the library’s air conditioning went out, and there’s not a chance in hell she’s going to sit there roasting), occasionally joined by Thor, Bucky, and/or Natasha when the timing works out.

It’s draining, even with her lighter summer classload, but by the time she's collapsing onto Bucky’s couch after her last exam, it's so worth it.

“I kicked ass,” she says as Bucky hands her a spiked cider. “There's only one problem.”

“What's that?” Bucky asks, taking his seat next to her and throwing his arm around her shoulder.

“On this side of finals, birthday dinner with my family feels so much closer,” she says.

Bucky wrinkles his nose. “Natasha is still willing to burn their house down if we want an excuse to get out of it,” he says, making her laugh.

“Then we'd just be eating in a pretentious restaurant instead of their pretentious home,” she says. “They'll be on better behavior with you there. They never want others to see how they really act.”

Bucky purses his lips and makes the face he always does when her parents are discussed.

“You don't have to come,” she reminds him. “I'll come up with an excuse.”

“I'm not going to make you go alone,” he says, sounding very offended that she'd even say that, which makes her feel just a little bit warmer. “I'm just reminding myself to play nice and not say anything that'll make them stop helping you with school.”

“Much appreciated,” she says. “You can yell at them in a year and a half when I graduate.”

“I’m putting it on my calendar,” Bucky says, pulling out his phone.

“And you call me dramatic,” she says.

That Friday, Darcy and Bucky arrive outside her parents’ Long Island house.

“Mansion,” Bucky says, staring up at the balconies. “It’s a mansion.”

“A small mansion,” Darcy says. “But yes, a mansion.”

“Did you grow up here?” he asks.

“They bought this when I was in middle school, when my grandfather died and left his share of his architecture firm to my mother,” Darcy says. She takes a deep breath and grabs his hand, holding it tightly. “Let’s get this over with.”

She starts walking with purpose toward the front door, Bucky easily matching her stride. They’re both dressed more nicely than usual, Darcy in a knee-length deep blue dress, Bucky in dark gray slacks and a black button-down. Darcy had tried to talk him out of the long sleeves, insisting that it’s mid-August, he’s going to melt, but he’d insisted on it to hide the tattoos since her parents think tattooed and pierced people are “degenerates.”

“It doesn’t matter that they think that,” Darcy had said, exasperated. “They already know I have tattoos, and there are piercings in my face!”

But Bucky had stands firm, saying, “I’m going to give them the least amount of ammunition as possible,” which is also why his long hair is pulled back, even though it exposes the peony tattoo on his neck. Darcy’s mother finds long hair on men particularly distasteful.

“If they get too...too much, just ask my brother about the vaginal tightening cream his team is working on,” Darcy says. “And try not to laugh when he talks about the ‘magic secret ingredient.’ ”

“I’m afraid to even ask what it is,” he says.

“That’s wise of you,” Darcy says, stopping in front of the pretentious oversized front door. She takes a deep breath before knocking. Bucky looks a bit surprised that they aren’t just walking in like they had at his house. “My mom thinks it’s disrespectful to just walk in.”

“To your own home?” Bucky asks.

“Oh, it hasn’t been that in years,” she says, grasping his hand in hers. “Thank you for coming with me.”

Bucky raises their clasped hands and presses a kiss to the back of hers. “I’ll always come whenever you need me.” And that’s really so unfair; she doesn’t want to cry on her parents’ front stoop.

Then Darcy can hear the loud clack of her mother’s high heels, and a moment later, the front door opens. Melinda Lewis is wearing a burgundy skirt suit that looks much more suited for her office than her daughter’s birthday, her hair pulled back in a very professional bun. Darcy vaguely feels like she’s here for a job interview.

“Darcy, darling,” Melinda says in the cutesy voice she uses in front of people outside her family. She leans in and air kisses each side of Darcy’s cheek. “And you must be Bucky,” she says, only a mere hint of distaste at the name, enough that anyone who wasn’t familiar with her tactics wouldn’t notice, but it makes Darcy clench her jaw. She’s perfectly able to withstand her family’s insults against her, but she won’t be able to take disrespect to Bucky quite as easily.

“Pleasure to meet you,” Bucky says with a very polite smile, offering his hand. Melinda takes it, shaking it firmly like she’s meeting a new client.

“Please come in. Marta is nearly done with appetizers,” Melinda says, leading them deeper into the house.

It’s always a bit bizarre to see her mom playing the perfect hostess, though Darcy’s somewhat used to it from the parties her family likes to put on to appeal to their high society friends, (Darcy hasn’t bothered to come to one in years). Usually Melinda can be found in her study with a drink, but appearances must. Bucky squeezes Darcy's hand tightly as they follow Melinda through the ostentatious front entry through to the cream and brown formal dining room. The table is set up with Darcy’s favorite light pink china, so that’s nice at least. She thinks Marta, the private chef her parents have used for years, is probably the one to thank for that. She doubts her parents remember which dishes she likes.

Her father and brother are standing by the drink cart near the large picture window, each with a scotch in hand, and John’s cheeks are tinged a shade of pink that lets Darcy know he’s had a few already. They turn their attention to Darcy and Bucky when Melinda leads them over.

“Dad, this is Bucky,” Darcy says, making the introduction. “Bucky this is my dad, Jona—”

“Dr. Jonathan Morgan Lewis IV,” her dad says, then gives a little laugh. “You don’t have to call me ‘doctor’ though. ‘Jonathan’ is fine.” Darcy manages not to roll her eyes, though it’s close.

“Pleased to meet you,” Bucky says, shaking the offered hand. Bucky’s a strong man and gives an incredibly firm handshake, something her father values (and something that intimidates her brother). “I appreciate you both inviting me into your home.”

“Nonsense, we’re very interested in meeting who our daughter is dating,” Jonathan says.

“Even if we do have to find out through Evelyn Peterson,” Melinda says in a high-pitched teasing tone that could be taken as playful by someone who didn’t know her.

“And this is my brother, John,” Darcy says, choosing not to respond to her mother.

“Nice to meet you,” Bucky says, offering his hand. John takes it, wincing a bit at how hard Bucky grips his hand. She almost laughs aloud when she realizes Bucky is using his customer service smile for her brother, masking how much she knows he wants to hit him for the crude comments he'd made about her at brunch months ago. Bucky’s memory is exceptional when it comes to her.

“You too,” John says, flexing his hand a bit when he lets go before slipping it into his pocket. Darcy smirks just a bit seeing it tremble. “So, Bucky, what is it you do?” And that’s textbook John, always asking about profession, always caring about position.

“I’m a tattoo artist and piercer,” Bucky says, not a hint of shame in his voice. That’s something she’s always really liked about Bucky; he’s not going to let anyone’s outdated opinions make him feel less than.

John’s expression is a little too close to a sneer for Darcy’s taste, his eyes lingering on the piercings in Bucky’s ears and the magenta peony on the side of his neck.

“He also owns his own shop,” Darcy adds, omitting that he owns it with Natasha, Steve, and Sam.

“That’s impressive for one so young,” Melinda says. “If only someone with a political science degree would be able to do that.”

Bucky’s jaw clenches, but they’re rescued by Marta entering the room with a tray of roasted cherry tomato bruschetta (not her favorite) in one hand and a tray of deviled eggs (her absolute favorite) in the other.

“I thought we settled on no deviled eggs?” Melinda says, the obnoxiously sweet tone of voice slipping a bit.

“Oh, I know, but I just had to make her favorite for her birthday,” Marta says, sending a wink Darcy’s way as she sets the trays down on the table before hurrying back to the kitchen.

“Well,” Melinda says, her voice pitching back up. “We might as well get started.”

Darcy had been worried that her family would use the dinner to interrogate Bucky, but they seem much more interested in bragging instead, like they’re trying to prove how much better they are. Her father proudly lists all the lectures he’s given recently at the most prestigious medical schools, her mother goes on and on about the expensive buildings she’s working on, and her brother, with an air of great smugness, takes the opportunity to stand up and announce that he’s been named junior partner at the health and wellness company where he works.

“Oh John, how fantastic!” her mother exclaims, jumping up and hugging him. Her father stands as well and congratulates him with a hearty pat on the back. Darcy doesn’t stand, and neither does Bucky.

“Congrats,” she says. “So they liked the snail mucus idea?”

“Snail mucin,” John says through gritted teeth. “It’s a great moisturizer that can reduce wrinkles and—”

“Mucus, mucin,” Darcy says dismissively. She actually knows a good deal about snail mucin thanks to the fancy skincare products Jane’s mom gave her for Christmas, but she just likes to watch John’s blood pressure rise a bit. “Does that mean you’re off the vaginal rejuvenation project?” Bucky coughs quietly at her side, like he’s trying to stifle a laugh.

John’s eye twitches as he says, “I’ll be overseeing the skincare line, thank you. I’ll send you some antiaging samples that would really do you some good.”

“Congratulations,” Bucky interjects with a perfectly polite smile on his face, but his eyes are cold in a way that makes John seem to falter. Darcy’s parents don’t notice, both too busy refilling their drinks and taking their seats after congratulating John.

Darcy presses her leg against Bucky’s under the table, and he presses hers right back.

It goes on in that vein throughout the next course as well. Marta serves a summer strawberry salad Darcy has always loved, so she’s able to endure the grilling about her major, if she’s sure she doesn’t watch to switch to business, if she at least did well on finals; she’ll put up with a lot for good food.

“At least consider changing your minor,” her mother says while the dishes are being cleared. “I mean, sociology? How interesting can it be to write about blaming the well-off for why poor people are poor?”

“I’ve read a lot of her essays,” Bucky says, and only Darcy can tell from his tone that he’s losing his patience. “They’re brilliant.”

It’s truly impressive how her mother’s smile manages to be patronizing and stiff at the same time. “How lovely,” she says brittlely.

They switch to questioning her wardrobe, John making sure to tell her how the blue of her dress makes her skin look much too pale and pasty. Her parents agree that she really shouldn’t dress like she’s just a college student (the fact that she is a college student apparently doesn’t matter). She’s a Lewis, and Lewises need to present themselves better. Her father gives Darcy’s septum and nose rings a particularly disgusted look at that.

Bucky simply can’t stay silent on that, telling them in a cool voice, “Everything about her appearance is perfect.”

“You’re her boyfriend,” John says with a dismissive snort. “We know you have to say that.”

Darcy nudges Bucky and shakes her head slightly, letting him know to drop it. He does, but he doesn’t seem happy about it.

They move off her fashion choices when her mother offers to send her the name of a plastic surgeon that could really help with her “undesirable areas.” Bucky’s leg twitches under the table at that, but Darcy just rests her hand on his thigh and tells her mother in a smooth voice, “I prefer my natural face that your good genetics gave me.” Melinda looks like she isn’t sure if she should be annoyed or pleased by that.

There’s a break from the criticisms when Marta brings out the pomegranate-glazed salmon, giving Darcy a hug and wishing her a happy birthday. Her mother’s mouth pinches, and Darcy knows she’s thinking very uncharitable things about associating with “the help,” but Bucky’s presence keeps her from voicing them aloud.

Melinda’s watching closely as Darcy dishes up and looks like she’s about to make a comment about the amount of food Darcy puts on her plate, but Bucky heads her off by asking, “What’s your opinion about the ‘emotional design’ trend that’s picking up speed this year?”

“Oh, it’s much more than a trend,” Melinda says, immediately gripped by the fervor that overtakes her whenever her favorite architectural topics are brought up. She launches into a passionate defense of emotional design, completely abandoning the topic of Darcy. Darcy looks over at Bucky in disbelief, and he glances over, a ghost of a smile on his lips, before he turns back to Melinda, feigning interest.

Now that Bucky realizes that derailing them is possible, he leans into it hard, asking her father what he thinks about a controversial clinical trial of a new cancer drug the FDA is considering, then about his opinion on the new surgeon general, which sends him on a ten-minute rant that lets Darcy finish her salmon and get seconds unnoticed. He only stops when Marta brings out the lemon blueberry cake.

Melinda is looking at the size of the piece of cake Darcy is cutting herself, but before she can say anything, Bucky compliments the gaudy diamond ring Melinda’s wearing.

“Oh, thank you. You have wonderful taste,” she says with a high-pitched little laugh. “Jonathan bought it for me for our anniversary. I love the size, and a princess cut is a classic of course, but my favorite part is that it’s a real diamond. These lab-grown gems just aren’t the same.”

And Darcy tries, she really does, but she just can’t let that one go. “I mean, they’re the exact same, they just aren’t mined by enslaved children,” she says.

Melinda sighs. “Must you be so negative about everything? Obviously that isn’t ideal, but there’s nothing I can do about that.”

“You could buy a lab-grown diamond,” Darcy says, keeping her voice light. She really doesn’t want to fight with her family, especially in front of Bucky, but they’ve had this conversation so many times, and she just can’t say nothing and let them think she doesn’t care anymore.

“Lab-grown diamonds are cheap, and I do not accept cheap jewelry,” she says, looking pointedly at the cubic zirconia in Darcy’s septum ring.

“So the human rights violations are necessary for you to like a ring, got it,” Darcy says.

Melinda leans in, a very stiff smile plastered on that doesn’t match the anger in her eyes. “We are not having this discussion right now, Darcy Julianna Lewis. Especially in front of company. How many times do I have to tell you not to act like a nasty spoiled child?”

Bucky’s thigh jerks against hers, and she has the feeling that’s a step too far for him, but then her father clears his throat and reminds her in a haughty voice, “Your tuition for next semester is due soon. Something to keep in mind.”

There’s a bit of a nasty silence at that, her brother grinning like he always does when their parents are digging into her. She’s seriously considering telling them exactly what she thinks of them and their threats, their money be damned, but then there’s a distant, echoing crash that makes them all jump, Melinda letting out a little scream. Jonathan jumps up and looks out the window.

“What was that?” John asks, eyes wide.

“The garage!” Darcy’s father shouts and bolts out of the room. The rest of them run to the window, and Melinda lets out another little shriek before tearing out the room after Jonathan.

One of the doors of the detached four-car garage is badly bent, hanging part way open. The other is crumpled on the ground, a small dust cloud emanating from the opening. Darcy glances at Bucky and can tell that he too thinks this might have happened at the hands of a small redheaded Russian.

When they make it outside, Melinda is standing in the open door frame, hands over her mouth, next to John, who has his hands on his hips. Jonathan is somewhere inside the garage, yelling and swearing more than Darcy can remember other than when he was passed over for the prestigious Nathaniel Essex Award. When they get closer and can see inside the garage, they find out why.

The fancy and extensive overhead storage system hanging from the ceiling had come crashing down, crushing the four cars in the garage. Her mom’s Mercedes coupe and G-Wagon, her father’s BMW, and his pride and joy, a 1963 Jaguar E-Type Lightweight, a car he’s said multiple times that he loves more than his children, are now all merely twisted and crunched piles of metal. The Jaguar is even splattered in the ugly brown paint her parents had used to paint her father’s office.

“I told you we didn’t need storage across the entire ceiling!” Melinda is shrieking, her fake cutesy voice gone. Jonathan doesn’t seem to hear her, busy spewing out elaborate strings of curses. “But no, you absolutely needed it for your damn antiques!”

Darcy has a hand clamped over her mouth, trying very hard to stifle the laughter threatening to spill out. Bucky wraps an arm around her shoulder, his lips pressed tightly together, though his eyes are dancing with mirth. John standing next to them seems to be at a loss for words, just staring with his mouth hanging open.

“I told you—”

“I don’t want to hear it!” Jonathan roars.

“If you had listened before, you wouldn’t have to hear it now!” Melinda screams back.

“This looks like it’s going to take a lot of your time, so we’re just gonna…” Darcy says, pointing her thumb over her shoulder. No one acknowledges her, so she and Bucky take a few slow steps backward. When they aren’t called back, they turn back to the house to grab Darcy’s purse, the sounds of Melinda and Jonathan yelling at each other echoing behind them. Darcy glances back one last time, stifling her giggles when she sees the other garage door give up and crumple to the ground too.

“Oh my god,” Darcy says once they’re back in the house, letting out a hysterical little laugh. “How does she do that?”

“Freaky superpowers mere mortals were never meant to understand,” Bucky says, grinning openly now that they’re out of her family’s sight.

“Let’s go before they find a way to blame that on us,” she says, grabbing her bag off the back of her chair.

“Agreed,” Bucky says, pulling out his phone as they walk back out into the oppressive August heat. “I’ll order the cab.”

“Luckily us having dinner means I can put off seeing them for at least six months,” Darcy says. “And we have these beautiful, destructive memories to keep us warm at night.” Bucky snorts.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Bucky says, putting his phone back in his pocket, “but I really wish I made enough to be your sugar daddy.”

Darcy bursts out laughing, clutching at her side. “You what?” she asks.

Bucky grins. “I’d be able to help you with housing, so you could tell your parents to eat shit.”

Darcy laughs, imagining her parents’ faces at her tattoo artist boyfriend turning sugar daddy. She steps into his personal space, resting her hands on his chest and tilting her face up to look at him. He hums and pulls her closer, looking down at her with what she can only describe as soft adoration. His lips are soft when he kisses her, and like always, she just wants to melt into him and never leave.

Unfortunately, that’s when their taxi pulls up. With a sigh, Bucky presses a kiss to her forehead before they disentangle themselves and climb into the blessed AC of the cab. Darcy pulls out her phone while Bucky talks to the driver and texts Natasha: You do magnificent work. I’m impressed.

Darcy barely has time to text Jane that they’re on the way home when Natasha texts her back. I have no idea what you’re talking about, my sister and I were getting lunch. On a completely separate note, look at these cool Russian icons we found.

Attached to the text is a picture of Natasha and a blonde woman a little younger than her, both grinning and holding up two icons she recognizes from her dad’s collection, one a Madonna and one an angel. Both were definitely not obtained in accordance with US antiquities regulations, so her dad was never able to insure them. Such a shame.

Darcy snorts a laugh, showing the text to Bucky, who shakes his head, looking torn between being amused and pained.

“I keep telling her not to put things in text,” he says, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips.

The driver is singing along to the radio and clearly not paying attention to them, so Darcy feels safe saying, “They weren’t exactly acquired legally, so it’s not like he’s going to report them missing.”

Bucky looks mollified at that and sighs. “I told her we don’t want to visit her in prison, but she said she’d just break out.”

Darcy laughs. “Of everyone I’ve ever met, she’s the one I believe it from the most,” she says. “I didn’t realize her sister was in town.”

“Me neither,” Bucky says. “She was in Croatia last I heard.”

They make good time back to Darcy’s apartment, where Jane and Thor are waiting for them with drinks, eager to debrief on Bucky’s first time meeting Darcy’s family.

“Okay, I don’t see any bruised knuckles, so there wasn’t a tussle,” Jane says, looking at Bucky’s hands.

“There was not,” Darcy says, accepting the strawberry margarita from Jane as she settles onto the couch, Bucky sitting next to her a moment later. Jane sits criss-cross in the overstuffed pink chair, Thor lounging on the rug at her side.

“It was close a few times,” Bucky says.

“They were relatively well behaved, which was a bit surprising,” Darcy says. “I thought they’d be a lot ruder about the tattoo artist thing, but not many comments about that.”

“They were too busy criticizing every decision Darcy has ever made,” Bucky says, glaring at the memory. “Somehow her performance at a talent show in middle school made it in.”

“To be fair, I was not a good ballerina,” Darcy says.

“To be more fair, no parent should ever mock their child’s talent show performance,” Bucky says firmly. Thor leans forward and clinks his glass against Bucky’s in agreement.

“I thought the final straw might have been when my mom called me a ‘nasty spoiled child,’ but then,” Darcy says, grinning, “that ridiculously expensive hanging storage system my dad bought? The whole thing came down.”

Jane gasps, accidentally spitting out a bit of margarita. Thor hands her a napkin and she dabs off her shirt impatiently. “The Jag?” she asks eyes wide, like she doesn’t dare hope.

“I’m no expert, but I’d say totaled,” Darcy says with a wide smile.

“YES!” Jane cheers. “Ha! Oh my god, I hate that car.”

“Was this perhaps the work of Natasha?” Thor asks, also grinning despite his love of classic cars.

“I think that’s probably a good bet,” Darcy says, choosing to keep Natasha’s incriminating text to herself.

Jane sighs happily, leaning back into her chair. “I’m so glad we met Natasha,” she says. “And I’m so glad you met Bucky. We love Bucky.”

“Here, here,” Darcy says, clinking her margarita glass against Jane’s before snuggling into Bucky’s side. That reminds her though; she should probably say that to Bucky directly soon.

Chapter Text

Saturday isn’t Darcy’s actual birthday, that’s Monday, but Saturday is when they’re celebrating. She’s glad they went with Bucky’s plan of doing it the day after their dinner with her family. It’s a nice palate cleanser from the exhausting and infuriating day before (though Natasha and her sister engineering the destruction of her parents’ cars certainly capped the evening off nicely).

Darcy wakes up a little after 10:00 a.m., not having bothered to set an alarm the night before. She stretches before sitting up, feeling surprisingly well rested. It’s only a couple minutes later when her door cracks open and Bucky slips in wearing only a pair of athletic shorts, his hair still wet from the shower. He smiles when he sees she’s awake, walking over and kissing her cheek.

“Mm, good morning,” she says, giving him an appreciative once over before pouting. “I missed showering with you.”

Bucky laughs, pulling out a shirt from the drawer Darcy cleaned out for him in her dresser. She pouts harder at him putting on the gray t-shirt.

“I wanted to let you sleep before tonight,” he says. “Natasha has never planned a party that wrapped up before 2:00 a.m.”

“What are your neighbors going to think of that?” Darcy asks.

“Well, Ingrid and Bartholomew are mostly deaf, so they don’t tend to care,” Bucky says. “And the rest have been successfully bribed.”

“Do I want to know how?” Darcy asks.

“Hm, debatable,” Bucky says. “But Thor says he’s making omelets, so you might want to shower.”

“I need you to know that I recognize the deflection, but my love of breakfast food is winning,” Darcy says, getting out of bed.

Bucky laughs. “I know.”

Thor’s omelets are exceptional, so Darcy actually feels motivated to get ready instead of just standing under the hot water in the shower for forty-five minutes. And her timing is perfect because as soon as she comes out, Thor shouts that hers is ready. What’s she supposed to do if Thor and Jane ever move out? Cook for herself? Be serious.

Bucky’s already halfway through his own omelet when Darcy takes the stool next to him at the peninsula. From the look on his face, she thinks he might be having an egg-related religious experience. Thor sets her plate down in front of her before she can ask, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“A birthday omelet for you,” he says. “Since you won’t be here the morning of your birthday.”

“Thank you,” she says with a smile. “I won’t be here the morning of my birthday?”

“Nope,” Bucky says, swallowing his bite. “We have plans.”

“Since when do we have plans?” she asks. “Not that I’m complaining, I just thought you had work.”

“I moved things around,” Bucky says with a shrug. “Thor, how often do you cook? I’m moving in.”

Thor laughs. “Not often enough to make moving in worth it,” he says.

“We tend to be run-out-the-door-in-the-morning people,” Jane says, walking into the kitchen with a tumbler of iced coffee larger than her head.

“I wish I could say I wasn’t, but same here,” Bucky says. “Anything for an extra five minutes of sleep.”

“Preach,” Jane says, then looks at Thor. “You ready to go?”

“Where are you going?” Darcy asks.

“We’re going to meet up with Natasha to set up party stuff,” Jane says.

“What do you mean? Set up what?” Darcy says. “I thought this was just like hanging out with some vodka and pizza?”

“I’m not allowed to say,” Jane says. “And you’re not allowed to come to Bucky’s apartment until 7:00.”

“We aren’t allowed?” Darcy repeats, laughing.

“Yep, banned from my own home,” Bucky says, not sounding at all upset.

“You are allowed to pick up Capri Sun because we weren’t able to find the Pacific Cooler flavor at any of our usual stores,” Jane says. “We have the rest of the snacks covered though.”

“Sour Patch Kids?”

“Got ’em.”

“Sour Patch Kids Watermelons?”

“Got ’em.”

“A lot of them,” Thor says.

“And gummy worms, Sun Chips, Doritos, Bugles, pistachios, cantaloupe, raspberries, deviled eggs, bacon-wrapped prawns, and cheese,” Jane says.

“This is a very confusing party theme,” Darcy says, grinning, though there's a warmth filling her chest.

“Well the theme is you, so.”

Since they aren’t allowed to go to Bucky’s until that night, Darcy and Bucky take their sweet time getting out of the apartment. What started as Bucky eating her out on the couch (partially in revenge for all the times Jane and Thor have had sex on it, partially because that’s just where they happen to be when Bucky decides he wants to drop to his knees between her thighs) turns into two rounds that make them each need to shower again. By then it’s past lunchtime, so they get sandwiches at the little deli down the road, then they go on the hunt for Capri Sun.

“Was there an explosion at the Capri Sun factory?” Darcy asks as they leave the fourth store they’ve tried. “Is it corporate sabotage? Is Sunny D behind it?”

“Be careful or you’ll get sued for slandering big Sunny D,” Bucky says.

They find the flavor they’re looking for at the next store, and Bucky grabs four boxes.

“I’m toeing the line of being part of the Capri Sun hoarding problem,” he says while they wait in line.

“I think four boxes is perfectly reasonable,” Darcy says. “Kids’ soccer coaches for sure buy more.”

“Are we going to measure all our purchases against youth soccer coaches?” Bucky asks.

“For the summer, maybe,” Darcy says. “We’ll probably switch to teachers in the fall.”

“I don’t know if my budget will support that amount of antacids,” Bucky says.

When they get to the register, the woman working lets her eyes trail up and down Bucky’s body. She lets out a flirty little giggle when Bucky smiles at her, though he seems completely oblivious to it. Ballsy, in Darcy’s opinion, when she’s standing right here.

“You have really pretty hair,” she says, handing him his change.

“I tell her that all the time,” Bucky says. “Thanks.”

She sighs, her flirty expression turning sullen. “Yeah, bye.”

Bucky gives her a confused look at that but doesn’t comment on it, just takes the bag in one hand and Darcy’s hand in his other as they walk out.

“That was weird, right?” Bucky says once they’re back outside. “The way she got cranky?”

“She was flirting with you,” Darcy says, laughing, before adding, mock thoughtfully, “Though I probably shouldn’t have pointed out the competition.”

“There’s no competition,” Bucky says, setting the bag down on the empty bus stop bench and pulling her in closer, hands on her hips. “Not even close.”

“Oh yeah? Not from the blonde security guard on campus that asked to feel your bicep last month?” she says, kissing his cheek.

Bucky laughs. “No,” he says.

“Not from the customer that keeps calling your eyes ‘deep pools of forest light’?” she asks, kissing his other cheek, grinning.

“No,” Bucky says again, rolling his eyes but smiling down at her.

“Not even from that barista that always puts a little purple heart next to your name on your coffee cup?”

Bucky leans in, lips just barely touching hers. “There is not a universe,” he murmurs against her lips, “where you aren’t my first and only choice.”

Before she can even think of what to say to that, he presses a soft kiss to her lips, and she just melts into his body, wrapping her arms around him as he holds her close.

“I don’t know if you can speak for all alternate universe Buckys,” she says once they pull apart, her heart still beating quickly.

“Well, I’m going to,” he says. “What about you? Do I have to worry about the guy in your program who always calls your eyes pretty?”

Darcy laughs. “I thought it was fairly obvious I was all in on you from the first time we had dinner. Probably before that.”

“Well, I’d hoped.”

Their Capri Sun hunt takes up a lot of time, so by the time they make it back to Darcy’s apartment, it’s time to get ready for the party. Darcy has a black-beaded swishy mini dress that's just a little too fancy for everyday wear but perfect for tonight. She pairs it with deep pink sparkly knee-high boots, a rare good gift from her parents, and does a little twirl in the mirror.

“Oh yeah,” she says, grinning. “This is working.”

They take a cab to Bucky’s because she is not risking her outfit on the sweaty subway, and by the time the elevator takes them up to his floor, they can already hear muffled music from his apartment. Natasha slips out of Bucky’s front door before they get to it, her arms full of cardboard from broken-down beer and soda boxes.

“Hey,” she says brightly when she sees them, then she looks Darcy up and down, giving an appreciative whistle. “That is a damn good dress.”

“Thank you,” Darcy says, shaking her hips just a bit so the dress swishes just right around her thighs. “I bought it when my dad gave me his credit card to do college dorm shopping. I figured he wouldn’t notice the charge, and I was right.”

Natasha laughs. “Well deserved. I’ll be right back, just going to put these in recycling.”

Bucky moves to take the broken-down boxes from her, saying “I can—”

But Natasha dances out of reach and says, “Nuh uh, just go inside.”

There’s a grumpy looking neighbor down the hall who’s staring at them with a distinct frown, but he sees Natasha walking his way and quickly closes the door.

“I thought you said the neighbors were bribed?” Darcy asks.

“Well, most were,” Bucky says. “George is just a grump no matter what.”

“Is Natasha the mafia?” Darcy asks, thinking of how fast he’d shut the door when he saw Natasha. “I feel like Natasha could run a mafia.”

“We should all be grateful she chose the arts,” Bucky says, then opens the door to his apartment with a dramatic flourish of his arm to usher her inside.

The lights in Bucky’s apartment have been dimmed a bit in favor of the flashing pink, purple, and blue lights set up in the corner of the living room that give it the feel of a small nightclub instead of a decent two-bedroom.

A small blonde woman that Darcy immediately recognizes as Natasha’s sister comes out from Steve’s room down the hall with two bottles in her hands.

Yelena grins widely when she sees her. “You’re Darcy!” she yells happily over the music. “I will come hug you soon, but first I have to put these in the freezer.” She shakes the two bottles in her hands and goes into the kitchen.

“Was she holding Red Room Vodka?” Darcy asks, looking up at Bucky.

“It looked like it…” Bucky says.

“I thought that was impossible to get in the United States,” Darcy says.

“Okay, Yelena might be the mafia,” Bucky says.

Darcy doesn’t have time to ask any more questions about the dubious legality of Natasha’s family before Jane yells her name and runs over, blowing a paper noisemaker in her face before pulling her into a hug. When she pulls away, Darcy can see the cockeyed party hat on her head, a party hat with Darcy’s face on it.

“Is that my senior picture from high school?” Darcy asks, pulling Jane’s head toward her to see better in the semidarkness. “How did you get my senior picture?”

“Natasha found it,” Thor says, coming around Jane to give Darcy a hug. Darcy hugs him back. He, too, is wearing one of the party hats.

“Your social media is sufficiently locked down, but I can’t say the same for all your high school friends,” Natasha says, sliding back into the apartment and closing the front door behind her.

“I don’t have words,” Darcy says. “At least it’s a good picture.”

“It’s lovely,” Bucky says, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Okay, show us why we needed to be banned from my home all day.”

“Okay, first,” Jane says, taking Darcy by the arm and tugging her into the kitchen, followed by Natasha and Bucky (Thor heads back to the living room, which is a good idea considering how cramped the kitchen gets). “The food.”

As she promised earlier, there is a bizarre range of Darcy’s favorite food laid out, along with a couple pizzas and a wide variety of drinks and mixers. Bucky puts the Capri Sun boxes near where Yelena is pouring juice into a pink Solo cup. She turns when she hears them walk in, grinning widely.

“Happy birthday!” she says, giving Darcy a one-armed hug, careful not to spill on her. She hands her the pink cup when she pulls away. “Here, try this.”

“What is it?” Darcy asks, sniffing it. All she smells is fruitiness.

“Some juice, some vodka, some limeade. Don’t worry, I didn’t poison it,” Yelena says, then winks and adds, “I save that for enemies.”

Darcy genuinely doesn’t know if she’s kidding or not, but she does believe Natasha wouldn’t let her sister give her something sketchy, so she takes a sip.

“That’s incredible,” Darcy says, taking another drink sip immediately. “I don’t even taste the vodka. Oh, this is dangerous.”

“Drink slowly,” Bucky says. “I will hold your hair back if you throw up, but you won’t be happy tomorrow morning.” Darcy gives him a mock salute in agreement.

“Moving on,” Jane says, taking Darcy by the elbow and steering her out of the kitchen and around the peninsula into the living room, where Clint and Kate are dancing so exuberantly that Sharon and Steve have backed up against the wall to be out of the range of flying limbs.

“Hey, Darcy!” Clint calls over the music when he sees her, Kate shouting her name a second later. Darcy waves back, grinning. Kate’s wearing a Darcy party hat, and Clint has on two, sticking out from the sides of his head like Maleficent’s horns.

“Jane and Thor made a playlist of your favorite songs,” Natasha says, raising her voice a tad to be heard over the music. “Snacks are on the coffee table.” She points to the little bowls filled with Darcy’s favorite candies and nuts.

“We have games,” Jane says, pointing to the stack next to Bucky and Steve’s TV. “Aaaaaand, a piñata!” And sure enough, hanging behind Clint by the window to the fire escape, is a three-foot round piñata, and when she looks closely, she realizes it’s modeled after her dad.

“Oh my god,” Darcy says, a laugh bursting out once she realizes what she’s looking at. Jane and Natasha look proudly at their papier-mâché Johnathan Morgan Lewis IV.

“We have smaller ones of your mom and brother too,” Jane says.

“We figured a lot of people have some aggression to take out on them,” Natasha says mildly.

Before Darcy can say anything, “Barbie Girl” by Aqua comes on, and without a word, Jane yanks her by the hand over the where Clint and Kate are still wildly dancing. Thor joins them a moment later, jumping with them to the chorus. Darcy has a brief thought of Bucky’s poor downstairs neighbor, but then Yelena jumps in with them, twirling Kate like a top, and Darcy chooses to believe the neighbors are happy with Natasha’s bribe.

They’ve made it through “Barbie Girl,” “Halloween,” and “Doctor Jones,” all by Aqua, and are dancing to “Only Happy When It Rains” when Hannah and Claire, two friends from her sociology program show up with her favorite coworker Henry and Henry’s boyfriend, Jay. Yelena makes them all drinks and doesn’t even have to drag them to the dance floor.

Sam pops in somewhere in the second song, munching on some pizza with Steve and Sharon, but Natasha and Bucky eventually join them dancing. Natasha somehow looks incredibly graceful while dancing to Nickleback, and Bucky and Darcy are dancing close enough that it’s nearly indecent, her hands dragging up his arms and chest, his on her hips, their bodies nearly pressed together.

And as much as Darcy loves it, as much as her endorphins are flowing and her blood is pumping, her stomach is also growling, so she peels herself away from Bucky (something she’s always loath to do) and heads to the kitchen. She stacks two pieces of pizza on top of each other and puts a few deviled eggs and a couple bacon-wrapped prawns onto her plate and is just wondering if Yelena would make her another drink when she and Kate dance into the kitchen, singing along to Stevie Nicks.

“Darcy Lewis!” Yelena says when she sees her. “Kate Bishop was just telling me about Bucky’s zoo date!”

“It was so cute,” Kate says, also starting to load up a plate of food. “He looked at you with the biggest heart eyes. Clint kicked me twice to keep me from saying anything.”

“He’s a big softie,” Yelena says, pulling out the vodka and juices from the fridge. “Do you want another drink?”

“Yes, please,” Darcy says. “I’m feeling pleasantly tingly, but I could be a little more tingly.”

“I can do tingly,” Yelena says with a grin, grabbing another pink Solo cup.

“I’m so glad I met you,” Kate says, leaning against Darcy, both of their plates tipping precariously. “And I’m so glad I met Yelena.”

“I’m glad I met you too,” Darcy says, looking at Yelena with raised eyebrows.

“Kate is perhaps a bit more than tingly,” Yelena says. “Water for now.”

Darcy laughs and accepts the drink from Yelena before heading back into the living room. Bucky is sitting on the couch now, a Darcy party hat cockeyed on his head, watching as Clint walks—or dances—on his hands. Darcy takes the seat next to him, smiling when he presses a kiss to her temple.

“Pizza for you,” she says, holding up her plate.

“You’re such a doll,” Bucky says, taking the top piece. “Having fun?”

“So much fun,” Darcy says, watching where Henry and Jay are now in deep conversation with Steve and Sharon, and nearby, Natasha seems to be showing Hannah and Claire the best way to make a fist to punch someone. “My favorite people are here, my favorite treats, my favorite music. I’m feeling incredibly seen. Maybe other than hats.” She reaches up and flicks the party hat on his head, making him laugh.

“Well, you’re incredibly well liked,” Bucky says. “So it’s not hard to want to celebrate with you.”

“You even got Sam to come, who only kind of likes me,” she says, just loud enough for Sam to hear as he walks by.

Sam’s eyes go wide. “What? I like you! Who said—” Sam cuts himself off when he sees the teasing look on her face. “Oh, you are mean. She is mean. Happy birthday and all. Mean! I need a drink.”

Darcy laughs. “I don’t know why he says I’m mean, I only mess with him because you mess with him,” she says to Bucky. “So if anything, it’s your fault.”

“I’m okay with that being my fault,” Bucky says.

All in all, it’s probably the best birthday party she’s ever had. Sure, she had a pony at one when she was a kid, but her parents also yelled at her the whole morning before the party, so it was a little hard to enjoy. This, though, much more enjoyable.

Everyone else starts eating around when she does, Jane putting away an impressive amount of prawns. They turn the music down a bit to move into games. Darcy gets the joy of introducing them to Telestrations After Dark, an adult game that’s a mix between Pictionary and Telephone. The tattoo artists are, predictably, incredibly good at it, and they kick them out after a few rounds. Which is fine, really, because Natasha is always ready to trounce them all at Mario Kart.

Bucky disappears to the kitchen for a round and when he comes back, he’s carrying a large, two-tiered round cake, and when he gets closer, she sees it’s Lord of the Rings themed, the first tier being a grassy road leading up to the top tier, a hobbit hole. She’s said many times how much she wants to live in a hobbit hole. Stuck in the cake were a few sparkler candles, and Darcy is trying so hard not to start crying. It’s just so sweet, everything here is catered to her, and while she usually jokes about “Do not perceive me,” she’s feeling incredibly perceived in the very best way.

After cake (chocolate and raspberry, absolutely delicious), they do presents. Henry and Jay give her a gift card to her favorite bookstore, Hannah and Claire give her a little plant each, and Kate gives her a stuffed lemur the size of a large toddler from the zoo. Sam goes a different direction and proudly presents her with a massive bag of M&Ms that have her and Bucky’s face on them, which is an odd gift, and she loves odd gifts. She gives him a big hug and forces him to eat an M&M with her face on it.

Clint and Natasha stay on the Lord of the Rings theme and give her a huge stained glass Narsil, which hangs by the hilt, the shards held in place by clear string. Yelena presents her with two bottles of Red Room Vodka, one strawberry and one raspberry, and only smirks in response when Darcy asks, “How did you get this?” Steve and Sharon give her two tickets to a Mets game after hearing how much she and Bucky enjoyed going.

Thor and Jane, thorough masters at gift giving, proudly give her a gold opossum necklace and gold raccoon dangly earrings, as well as Mighty Muffin Pounder Rangers and Power Bangers to compare on their next girls’ night. Bucky gives her a sparkly beaded bracelet that Becca sent from California before giving her his own gift: a slap bracelet, an oversized t-shirt with Aragorn’s face on it, and a gold septum ring with gorgeous sapphires that she recognizes as one she loved when she was helping him pick out new jewelry for the shop. It takes a good few seconds for her brain to process it before she stammers out a thank-you and launches herself at him, hugging him tightly.

There are a lot of things she wants to say, but the first thing she gets out is “How did you know I’d love a slap bracelet?”

“You mentioned it that first time I made you dinner,” Bucky says, and well, she just has to kiss him for that.

Bucky offers to help her change her septum ring since she always struggles to get hers out, but she really doesn’t want her boyfriend to put his fingers up her nose, so Natasha does instead. Darcy grins at her reflection in the hallway mirror, the collection of sapphires glittering in the low light.

Next are the piñatas, and oh, Darcy has been looking forward to this. Natasha presents her with a short but thick bat and advises her to keep a firm grip on it so they don’t have to replace Bucky’s TV or windows. With that advice in hand, she stares at the papier-mâché head of her dad, thinks about all the denigrating things he’s said about her major, her friends, her personality, and she swings hard. Her friends cheer at the huge dent she leaves in the piñata’s head. She thinks about the threats to cut off college help and hits it again, a hole breaking open right under his nose, a few boxes of Nerds falling out. She thinks about how much he clearly loves her brother more and swings once more, breaking his jaw off. Fun-sized Nerds, Lifesavers, and Starburst spill out while Jane lets out a deep, guttural “YES.”

They give Jane the honor of first shot at the piñata of Darcy’s brother, and Darcy knows she’s been aching to do this for years. Her first swing breaks the piñata off from the rope. That doesn’t stop Jane at all. She stands over the piñata of Darcy’s brother with the bat raised above her head and brings it down on his face over and over and over again. Sharon’s eyebrows are traveling ever higher up her face, Sam inches away like Jane’s going to turn the bat on him next, and Claire looks torn between being concerned and cheering. Thor, however, is beaming, proud as can be, as Jane flattens John’s face, Skittles scattering everywhere. When she’s done, there are just tatters of papier-mâché on the ground and Jane is breathing rather hard.

Everyone who wants a hit gets one in on her mom’s piñata. Darcy doesn’t know if it’s just made sturdier than the others or if no one else has the kind of long-term rage she and Jane have, but it lasts the longest. Darcy’s well aware that Bucky would never hit a woman, but a papier-mâché Melinda Lewis is fair game, and he knocks a big hole right in her forehead. Thor goes last, which is a good choice because one whack from him and the piñata all but explodes. Candy doesn’t go flying everywhere though. Instead, two unopened bags of fun-size Twix fall to the ground with a soft thud. They all stare at them for a moment before Darcy and Jane burst out laughing. Yelena shrugs and says, “We were running out of time.”

Jane puts on the top half of Melinda’s papier-mâché head on like a hat and rips open a Twix bag, passing it around after.

“Very cathartic,” Jane says through a mouthful of Twix.

“Agreed,” Darcy says. “I can only imagine how Natasha and Yelena felt in the garage.”

“Allegedly,” Yelena says, reaching into the Twix bag.

“Allegedly,” Darcy says.

Jane, still with the piñata on her head, takes Darcy’s hand and pulls her back to the makeshift dancefloor, apparently filled with enough endorphins from beating John’s face in that she’s ready to dance again. Hannah, Claire, Henry, Jay, Jane, Yelena, and, surprisingly, Sam eventually join them while the others mingle, eating and playing games. Yelena presents her with another drink after a bit, though not as strong as the previous ones. Darcy likes feeling fuzzy but not smashed. She’s having fun and wants to remember it.

Around midnight, Henry and Jay call it quits since Jay has work in the morning. Hannah and Claire leave soon after, thanking Darcy so much for the excuse to have a party. When Jane falls asleep eating Sour Patch Kids, Thor decides it’s time and calls a cab.

Clint’s the designated driver for Kate, Natasha, and Yelena, and it takes him a good half hour to wrangle them all. A drunk Kate keeps trying to help clean up, which Darcy finds adorable; Yelena, who’s had quite a bit to drink but holds it shockingly well, keeps playing parkour with Bucky’s furniture, vaulting over the peninsula or coffee table or chairs to stay out of Clint’s reach; Natasha, whose only sign of being drunk is slightly slurred words, is just being incredibly touchy, wrapping up Darcy in a hug and not letting go until Clint literally pries her off. Then Kate starts trying to put the leftover Doritos back into the bag, and it starts all over again.

When Clint finally gets them all out the door, it’s 2:05 a.m. Yelena and Kate have their arms slung around each other’s shoulders, both singing “Pink Pony Club,” though at entirely different verses. Sam follows them out, laughing and not helping Clint at all.

Bucky leaves Darcy swaying to the (much quieter) music, leaning on Sharon, while he and Steve do a quick cleaning pass through the apartment, making sure nothing perishable or that will attract bugs is out. Darcy tries to help, but Bucky plants her firmly in front of Sharon and tells her to hold Darcy back if necessary. Darcy has seen how strong Sharon is, so she’s happy to accept her fate and get Sharon to half dance with her.

“Thanks for hosting,” Darcy says when they’re all heading to bed. “We would not all have fit at my place.”

“We’d have made Clint wait outside,” Steve says. “And drop snacks out the window for him like a pigeon.”

“Are you the reason pigeons are always outside my kitchen window?” Sharon asks sharply. Steve looks a bit panicked and starts backing away toward his bedroom. “Steve Rogers, don’t you—” She breaks off, chasing after Steve.

“I so wouldn’t want to be Steve right now,” Darcy says.

“I never want to be Steve,” Bucky says, steering Darcy into his room. “No offense to Sharon, but I like my girlfriend more.”

“Aw, you big softy,” Darcy says, pressing a kiss to his lips after he closes the door. “Will you unzip me? I’m too tipsy and full of candy.”

Bucky snorts a laugh and takes her hand, giving her a twirl until she’s facing away from him. His fingers are warm on her skin as brush down her spine, taking the dress’s zipper with it.

“Not quite sure on the logic there, but I’m never going to say no to you undressing, doll,” he says, pressing a kiss to her bare shoulder before stepping away. “Though I think you’ve had a bit too much to drink for what I usually do when taking your clothes off.”

“It’s okay, you can still look all you want,” she says, laughing when he throws a t-shirt at her to sleep in.

“Oh, I will,” he says, eyes roaming her body as she kicks off her boots and shimmies out of her dress. “Always one of the best parts of my day.”

“Right back at you,” she says with a wink, watching as he takes his shirt off.

Darcy crawls into bed and shamelessly watches while Bucky gets into his sleep pants. He gives her an exaggerated lascivious wink before turning off the lights and sliding into bed next to her. He tugs her into him as soon as he’s settled on his side, wrapping her up in those arms that always make her feel safe and insulated from all the bullshit happening in the world, like nothing can touch them when they’re like this. She presses her face into his neck, just breathing him in, and is flooded with the sheer warmth and affection and joy she feels for him.

“I love you,” she murmurs into his neck, not missing the slight catch in his breath. “And I’m not just saying that because I’ve been drinking. I’ve just got this endless well of love for you inside me and it’s overflowing.”

Bucky pulls back so he can look down at her, and through the sliver of light from the streetlamp coming in through the crack in his drapes, she can see the wonder and elation on his face, and she wishes she’d had the courage and state of mind to tell him sooner.

There’s reverence on his face when he responds, voice raspy, “I’m so in love with you.” He clears his throat before continuing. “Loving you is the best feeling I’ve ever had, and every time I see you, it hits me all over again how lucky I am.”

“You’re gonna make me cry at my birthday party,” Darcy says, eyes welling up.

Bucky laughs, though she’s pretty sure his eyes are a little glassy too. “Well, you started it,” he says. He leans his forehead against hers, arms wrapping around her tighter. She squeezes him back, as if their bodies weren’t already pressed as close as humanly possible. “Tell me again tomorrow,” he says.

“I’m going to tell you every day.”