title: There is nothing for me (but to love you)
series: project phoenix
category: thor/captain america
genre: romance/friendship/humor
ship: bucky/darcy, bucky & darcy & steve (friendship)
chapter rating: pg-13/teen
overall rating: nc-17/explicit
word count: 4,686
summary: (au) It's 1933 when Darcy Lewis meets a couple of boys that will change her whole life. It all starts with a skinny, sickly boy playing hero; where it's headed, she could have never guessed.

There is nothing for me (but to love you)
-novel-

I.

For the boys, well, it all started back in 1930. With a tiny but brave Steve Rogers standing up to the likes of a much larger, much less brave, even cowardly in her opinion, bunch of bullies. She would only hear about it in stories, probably a tad bit embellished by the awe and adoration Steve carried for Bucky from the moment his best friend stepped into his world. Wasn't much of a world then, either. The flash and glamour of the 1920's led into the dusty 30's, with unemployment skyrocketing. Darcy, she was of the few who didn't suffer near as much as some. Her family had a little more money than most, and, thankfully, it wasn't tied up in the stock market like their neighbors were. She watched as, one by one, families had to scatter, leaving the homes they grew up in but could no longer afford.

She was fifteen years old and smart as a whip. More so, her mother told her, than she should be advertising. But Darcy wasn't too worried about whether she earned her momma's approval much. Oh, she loved her. Loved her daddy, too. But Darcy liked to think of herself as a forward thinker. She didn't need some dumb boy tied to her ankle, keeping her from reaching her potential, whatever that might be. Truth be told, she wasn't too sure. What she did know was that she wanted to have fun.

She met Cherry at a speakeasy in the heart of Brooklyn, a place she was sure they only let her into for her admirable curves. She let the boys running the show think she was a little older than what she was, offering up a sly smile here or there before she let herself be swept away by the music. There wasn't much that she liked more than music. Cherry was a fun girl; all bawdy talk and quick to laugh. She drank quicker than Darcy could ever hope to, putting away booze like nobody's business. Frank and fun, she was the first girl Darcy met when she went looking for a distraction in Brooklyn. Not a place her parents would ever let her wander. And if they knew, well, she could only imagine the talking to she'd get. But she wasn't telling anybody about the little hole in the wall she was enjoying her Saturday nights in, dancing herself out of the misery of life all around them. The music swelled along with her rocking hips, her green dress hugging her skin as the heat of all those bodies made the room swelter.

"You should come out and visit me sometime. I'll introduce you to a few of my friends," Cherry told her one late Saturday night, snipe* hanging from her popping red lips. She blew out a cloud of smoke and grinned at Darcy, giving her a wink before she took another drag.

Darcy never asked, more for her own safety than what was polite, but she always thought Cherry was a Moll. It was a rare thing then for anybody to have money like Cherry had. Oh, she didn't flash it around too much. She was too smart for that. But with Darcy, she didn't mind spending a few extra dollars, buying her drinks and tipping the pretty boy bartender for his trouble. She always winked too, like it was a secret of theirs, just how much cabbage she carried around with her. Darcy wanted to ask, even wanted to talk her friend out of making nice with anybody that offered her that kind of dough. But there was no talking Cherry out of anything; and trying would probably only encourage her. So, Darcy hoped Cherry had more sense than to get herself too tangled up with a goon, and even if she was, Darcy didn't see herself signing on to that show.

"Not sure I'm the kinda girl your friends would like for long, Cher. Most boys like their girls quiet; I get lonely if I don't hear myself yammerin'."

Cherry laughed, her head falling back and her bright, yellow curls bouncing on her shoulders. "They'd like you real fine, Darcy-doo. Ain't no man would turn down a pair like yours."

Darcy rolled her eyes, scoffing light-heartedly.

"Wasn't frowned on, I might treat a girl like you as my own." Cherry puckered her lips at Darcy in an air-kiss.

"Yeah, you're a real stickler for the rules, Cher. It's a cryin' shame." Darcy reached for her glass and took a swig, not the least bit surprised by Cherry's not so subtle come on. She'd made it clear early on that boys were just half her interest, and girls were just as fun for her. Unfortunately, though Darcy wasn't looking for a boy right then, she wasn't interested in women either. Though, if she was, she thought Cherry would be just the dame she'd take up on the offer.

"Your loss, sweetcheeks." With a shrug, Cherry stubbed her cigarette out and pushed off her stool. "Looks like I'll hafta find me some other entertainment for the night."

With a laugh, Darcy waved her on. "You go ahead. Think I'll start makin' my way home."

"You need somethin' for the taxi?"

"I've got a few bucks on me yet. You keep yours."

"Don't be dingy." Fishing her hand down her dress, she came up with a wad of cash and pulled out a few bills, shoving them into Darcy's hand without a bit of shame. "You walk a few blocks over before you wave one down though, hey? Don't want you gettin' robbed."

Darcy grinned up at her. "Pocket your worries. I'll be fine. Have a good night, all right?" She cast her chin toward the dance floor and said, "Choose wisely."

"Where's the fun in that?" Cherry smirked. "Ain't nothing hot 'bout bein' wise, Darce. Trust me on that." With her brows hiked high, she leaned in and popped a kiss to Darcy's cheek before she turned on her heel and made her way into the crowd of dancers, her hips swinging, wide and inviting.

Shaking her head, Darcy smiled to herself before turning and making her way to the door.

"Turnin' in already, doll?" the bartender asked, wiping down the counter on her left.

"Yeah, I'm trading in my dancing shoes for tonight, Mick. Have a good one!" she said in farewell.

"You, too," he called back before turning his attention to another customer.

Darcy breathed in deep as she walked out the door into a damp, dark alleyway, the music from inside a vague, distant noise. There was garbage piling up against the walls, but that was no surprise to her. It helped, too, to keep the wrong people from finding the speakeasy. But damn if it didn't set her teeth on edge, just how dirty it all was.

She made her way down the alleyway and out to the front, where lamps lit the sidewalk and the much less crowded streets. After spending a few hours surrounded by people, it felt nice to be on her own.

It was late. Not as late as it could be but later than her mother would approve. She'd assured her parents that she'd be staying overnight at her friend Chelsea's and told them not to worry. She knew a girl named Chelsea that went to her school but she couldn't say she'd ever really talked to her. Still, from what she could tell, Chelsea was a quiet, polite girl; the type Darcy's parents would approve of, not like Cherry.

The click of her heels was all she could hear as she made her way down the sidewalk, arms wrapped around her waist as a chill started to set in from the cool, night air. New shoes, too. She was almost regretting wearing them with how they were pinching her toes. But that was easy to forget when she was lost in her dancing. Now, with nothing to keep her mind of them, it seemed all she could focus on.

There was a diner not far from where she was; she'd noticed early on in her visits to Brooklyn that Merle's Diner was where a bunch of taxi driver's tended to linger. Much like every Saturday, she planned to offer whoever looked like they were struggling the most a little extra to drive her home, easier done with Cherry's help. Despite her parents no doubt locking the door on her, Darcy always left her bedroom window unlocked so she could climb in. Sneaking in was an art of hers, mastered at the tender age of ten, when she used to sneak out to play stickball with some of the neighbors, which her mother would most definitely frown on. It wasn't her ma's fault; she was a lady through and through. Demure where Darcy was proud; thin where Darcy was curvy; quiet where Darcy was loud. There was a time, when she was growing up, that Darcy thought she should be just like her mother, following in her every footstep. But that changed as she grew up, learning more about herself and the world as it began to grow. And sitting down and being quiet just wasn't her style any more than standing up and speaking out was her mother's.

Darcy was only a block away from the diner when she heard the catcall.

It wasn't anything new for her. Didn't matter if she was in Brooklyn or Manhattan, men always thought they should voice what was going on in their pants.

She rolled her eyes as she kept moving, a little faster than before, eager to avoid the inevitable argument.

"Where you goin', dollface? Party's waitin' for ya over here."

"Must've lost my invitation," she called back, one of her hands balling into a fist. "You send it out again and I'll try to get back to you next time."

"Look at you. You gotta mouth, doncha…? I got better things you could be doin' with that mouth."

"Oh, I doubt you do," she muttered to herself. "Thanks for the offer, but I'm pretty sure you got squat of what I want. So catch a cold shower, all right?"

"That any way to talk?"

The voice was getting closer and a shiver of worry ran down her back, but it only made her stand a little taller. If this guy thought he was going to scare her, then she'd show him scary. Cherry taught her how to throw a good left hook and she was feeling particularly bold right about then.

"Come on now, why don't you give a guy a chance? Promise I'll be a better time than anybody you got waitin' on you back home..."

"I said I wasn't interested. You want a press release?"

With a growl, he reached out and gripped her arm, yanking her around to face him. Her breath caught for a moment; she hadn't realized just how close he was until he was right there. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and more than a little bleary-eyed. If the smell was anything to go on, he'd drunk himself silly. That was no excuse for it, though, and she wasn't having it.

"What part of 'not interested' did you miss?" She gave her arm a tug, but he only gripped her tighter. "Go home and sleep it off."

"Why don't we both go home, huh, doll?" He leaned in close, his breath smelling thickly of smoke and whiskey. It turned her stomach.

Pressing a hand to his chest, she gave him a shove to little result. "Why don't you let me go and you take your hand home?"

His fingers squeezed tighter as he chuckled, but the look on his face was anything but amused.

Darcy felt panic burn at her throat. It wouldn't be the first time that her mouth got her into trouble. Her mother told her time and again that she never know when to bite her tongue. It wasn't her fault, though. When she was scared or nervous, her first reaction was to pretend she wasn't. And her way of pretending was usually to insult whoever it was that was scaring her.

"That's a pretty dress, honey," he said, reaching up to draw a finger down the collar.

Darcy slapped his hand away and glared up at him. "Get your damn hands off me, you pig."

A thick vein pulsed at his temple, his mouth opening quickly, no doubt to start calling her names. But before he had a chance, another voice intervened.

"The lady's not interested… I think it's time you went on home."

Together, she and her attacker turned to see who it was that was intervening.

Darcy's brows hiked high when a boy, not much taller than her, and a good deal skinnier, stepped out into view. He was young, too; close to, if not the same age as her. Despite everything he had going against him, he raised his chin like he was ready to go toe to toe for her honor. It was the most endearing thing she'd ever seen in her life. Endearing and probably stupid.

"Yeah?" the man asked with a laugh. "And whattya think you're gonna do about it, huh?"

The boy shoved the sleeves of his shirt up his noodle-thin arms, his fingers balling into fists. "I don't much like bullies, and what you're doing here, it's not right. The lady's not interested. You need to respect that."

"The lady," he sneered, "doesn't know what she wants."

"This lady's gonna sock you in your eye if you keep pissing her off," Darcy snapped back.

"Sure is a spitfire," a third voice piped up, and Darcy turned to see another boy step up beside the stick-thin one. Only he was taller, more lanky than skinny, with the kind of smirk that spoke of mischief. He, she decided, was exactly the kind of guy that Cherry would go looking for in the clubs. "What kinda trouble we got here?" he asked, looking from her back to his friend.

"The young lady was trying to get home from what I can tell. This… man isn't letting her."

"Well, that ain't too polite, is it, Steve?"

"No, Buck, I don't think it is."

"Buck" turned to the man, his eyes narrowed, lips pressing into a line. "I dunno, pal, looks like you're outnumbered here. Lady's not interested. Time to pack it in, don't ya think?"

Darcy twisted her arm, trying to pull it free, and, though the man wasn't quick to release her, he did finally let go. She took a step back, rubbing at her sore forearm and glaring at him.

"Whatever. Just a dumb bitch anyway. Not worth the trouble." With that, he turned and walked off, leaned to one side and stumbling a few times as he careened off to whatever dark hole he crawled out of.

"You all right, doll?"

Darcy looked back at the two boys warily. "Name's Darcy, not doll. And I could've handled that just fine on my own. I didn't need your help."

The taller boy, Buck's, lips tipped up at the corners. "Reckon you would've handled it just fine. But helping is my friend Steve here's job. Ain't that right, Steve?"

Steve glanced up at him and then cast a concerned look at Darcy. "He didn't hurt you, did he? He looked like he was holding on pretty tight."

She looked down at her arm, where she was still rubbing at the sore skin. "Probably have a bruise, but it could be worse." She pursed her lips but stared at him a good, long moment. "Suppose I should thank you. Don't know what you planned on doing. He was at least twice your size. But it was brave, trying anyway."

"It was no problem," Steve said, nodding at her sincerely. "I… don't like bullies."

"Yeah, well, bullying's one thing. But I think he was gonna do a lot more than that." Crossing her arms over her chest, she said, "Anyway, I need to be gettin' home."

"You live close by?" Steve asked, tucking his hands in the pockets of his pants. Pants, she noticed, that could use a good deal of sewing and hemming. In fact, most of his clothes could.

"Not hardly," she said with a shrug. "I was gonna pick up a taxi over at Merle's."

"That ain't too far from here. You mind if we walk you over?"

Darcy paused for a moment, chewing her lip, and looked between them. They seemed harmless enough. And, strong as she knew she was, she still felt a little shook up from before. Wasn't every day she had someone come onto her like that. Sure, she had men come up and ask her for more than a dance. That wasn't uncommon. But at the speakeasy, there were others around, quick to keep the unsavory types off a girl's back. Truth be told, her skin was still crawling a bit, and the knowledge of what could have happened made her hesitant to walk around without someone. She would've preferred Cherry, but that wasn't likely. And sure, she hardly knew these two, but from what she had seen, they looked all right.

"He's askin' to be polite. We're goin' that way and I think one scare's good for the night, don't you?" Buck said.

She stared at him, the sincerity of his words bleeding through his casual expression, and nodded. "All right…"

"Don't look too excited about it," Buck teased as he and Steve moved to join her on the sidewalk.

She arched an eyebrow up at him. "You want a thank you, too?"

"Wouldn't mind one," he answered, grinning down at her.

"All right, and exactly who am I thanking anyway? Buck's a god-awful name…" she told him candidly. Never let it be said that she didn't say exactly what she meant.

He laughed, his chin turned down, and Darcy could admit, in the privacy of her own head, that it was a nice laugh. Deep and thick. Masculine. Even reminded her of her daddy's laugh a bit, when he was truly enjoying something and the noise just burst out of him.

He rubbed a hand down his cheek as he looked at her, clear blue eyes full of humor. "James Buchanan Barnes, at your service. But my friends…" He reached across her to clap a hand down hard on Steve's shoulder. "They call me Bucky."

"Bucky," she said, adding a hum as she looked up at him. "And is that what we are then? Friends?"

His mouth curled up on one side, lazy like and full of… something. The kind of something that would've made Cherry lean in and take interest. "We're whatever you want us to be."

Darcy let out a huff of laughter and turned her head to see Steve. "He flirt like this with all the girls?"

Steve smiled lightly. "Only when he's breathing."

Darcy grinned. "I know the type."

"Yeah?" Steve raised an eyebrow. "Ya hear that, Buck? You're nothin' special."

"Might hafta argue that," Bucky replied lightly.

Darcy thrust a hand out then. "Darcy Lewis," she said. "I got his name, but I only got half of yours."

Steve glanced at her hand and then reached out to take it, his long, tapered fingers curling around her hand, stronger than she was expecting. "Steven Grant Rogers, miss. You can call me Steve," he introduced himself.

"Well, aren't you polite, Steve… So, you make a habit of savin' damsels, is that right?" Oh, he was a cute one. More gentle than man, probably to make up for all the manners his friend seemed to lack. A nice balance, she imagined. Not like her and Cherry; her friend was just that little bit louder than she was. A little more keen to let a man between her legs without fear of repercussions. Darcy wasn't letting anyone between her legs. She wasn't letting anyone anywhere. Boys were nice in theory, certainly nice to look at, as was the case with Bucky, but she wasn't so sure they were worth the trouble.

"I just try to do the right thing when it needs doin'," Steve answered, shrugging faintly.

"Ain't that sweet." Her eyes swept over him quickly. From the too large clothes to the too small frame. He needed a good meal, more than one even. And with a heart like his, she was tempted to feed him until the rest of him was just as full of kindness. "How old are you anyway?"

He shrugged. "Just turned fifteen, a few weeks back."

She hummed. "Turned fifteen myself, last month."

"Little young to be out here then, aren't you?" Bucky asked.

Darcy turned to look up at him and wondered briefly if he didn't like being ignored. She imagined, with a face like his, he wasn't used to it. Maybe that was part of the reason she enjoyed doing it. Still, she didn't like the question much and chose to answer it anyway. "There's a speakeasy not far from here. Friend of mine likes to go sometimes. They don't care too much how old I am."

His eyes dropped, taking her in with a quick browse. For all that he was obviously admiring her figure, Darcy didn't feel as dirty as she had when the other man had been eager to paw at her.

Bucky merely shrugged. "Can see why they wouldn't."

She snorted. "If that was a compliment, it needs work."

His smile only seemed to get larger, which, unfortunately, further proved her theory on why a handsome guy like him would be used to getting attention. "So, what's a girl like you doin' at a speakeasy in Brooklyn, then? They don't have somethin' cleaner in Manhattan?"

"What makes you think I'm from Manhattan?" she wondered.

He tilted his head. "Girl that looks like you, dresses like you, she ain't from around here."

Darcy's hand fell to her hip. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Not an insult, doll, just an observation," he offered with a shrug.

Darcy pursed her lips in a frown and turned to look at Steve expectantly. She didn't know them well, but she'd bet every dollar Cherry gave her that Steve had to do a lot of explaining for his best friend.

"Times are tough out here," he told her. "Your dress is bright. Not as washed out as most are around these parts. And… your shoes are new."

She dropped her attention down to her shoes; a cute, mustard yellow pair her daddy bought her. "How'd you know a thing like that?"

"You're still breaking them in. They're pinching your toes, which is why you shake your foot ever few steps." Steve shrugged. "Your toes are cramped up, I'm guessin'."

"You're a regular Sherlock," she mused, smiling to take the edge off her words. "All right, fine, so I'm from Manhattan. And yeah, sure, they probably do have a few nice joints out that ways. But I wasn't lookin' for nice. I was lookin' for fun."

"And you found it in Brooklyn…?" Bucky quirked an eyebrow. "Must be extra dull out where you're livin'."

"Stricter, leastways," she murmured.

Up ahead, she could see Merle's Diner and, just as expected, a number of taxis waiting, all lined up on the street. It was funny how, a few minutes earlier, she'd wanted nothing but to get home. And sure, her bed was calling to her still, but she rather enjoyed the company of Steve and Bucky. If it wasn't so late, she might've stayed around longer to keep talking. But it was late and she was tired.

"Looks like this is where we part ways, boys. It's been… somethin'." She turned around to face them, standing on the corner just across the street from the diner. "If I'm ever out this way and need a pair of heroes, whereabouts would I go lookin' for you two?"

Bucky and Steve exchanged a glance then, a whole lot said in the span of a few, silent seconds.

"Don't expect you'll be spending much time down on 8th street, sweetcheeks, and we wouldn't want you to, neither. Not unless you want that lettuce you're hidin' in your dress to go missin' real quick," Bucky told her, a note of sincere warning in her voice.

"He's right. Where we live, things aren't too safe," Steve added. "A dame like you shouldn't be out here, let alone down on 8th."

"The concern is touching," she dismissed, "but a 'dame like me' doesn't need the big brother act. And I'll be down here next Saturday, just like I always am, so don't start thinkin' I've been scared outta Brooklyn. I'm tougher than I look, even with the pinchy shoes."

Bucky grinned, good and slow. "Yeah, I bet you are."

Steve frowned, but nodded all the same. "It was nice meeting you, Darcy, even if the circumstances weren't too great."

"Same to you. And, just in case I never see you again…" She leaned over and pressed a kiss to the corner of his lips. "Thank you, for doing the right thing." She chucked his chin and took a step back, smiling at the blush that stained his cheeks.

"I get a kiss, too?" Bucky wondered, looking down at her.

"Sure…" But when he leaned forward, she patted his cheek. "Just as soon as you stop expecting one."

With that, Darcy turned on her heel and walked off toward Merle's, a little extra pep in her step. It wasn't until she was at the door that she turned her head to look back at the boys. Steve, sweet as apple pie, raised a hand to wave at her. She nodded back at him before she slipped inside to search out her taxi driver for the night.

Standing across the road, under a streetlamp, Steve let out a heavy sigh. "What a dame, huh, Buck?"

"Yeah, she's a piece of work…" He rocked back on his heels then. "So? What do you say? Me and you, next Saturday, we hit the speakeasy and see if Darcy's feet move as good as her hips."

Steve looked over at him, brow raised. "You think you'll have better luck next week?"

He shook his head. "Nope, she'll probably turn me down flat."

"Yeah," he agreed. "I don't doubt it. But it doesn't sound like much fun for you. So? What's the catch?"

"Maybe I like the chase… And I get the feeling she's worth the hassle." Bucky turned to him, grin playing at his lips, and swung an arm around Steve's shoulders. "Come on, Punk. 'Less you got anymore broads you need to save, it's time we get back. Last time we stayed out this late, they threatened to kick us out, permanent like."

Steve sighed. "It's an orphanage, Buck. Kids get thrown out and that's exactly where they end up."

"Yeah, well, wouldn't be the worst thing, right? One of these days, you and me are gonna be on our own. Get an apartment somewhere, no more curfew, do whatever we want."

Smiling, Steve nodded. "Yeah… One day."

They continued walking down the road, taking shortcuts and back alley's to get them closer to the orphanage. All the while, Bucky painted a picture. Of a better life, a better future, where they were their own men, doing whatever they wanted. And if Bucky had a pretty dame on his arm in those dreams, with bright blue eyes and curly brown hair, then who was to say it was anybody they knew yet, right?

While two boys walked through the dreary streets of Brooklyn, Darcy watched it melt away as she returned to Manhattan, staring out the window all the while.

For her, this was when everything began to change. This was the night that she met a pair of boys too heroic for their own good. Two boys that would change and shape her entire life. One as her best friend and the other as the great love of her life.

And what a life it would be.

[Next: Chapter Two.]

Slang:

speakeasy – a bar disguised as something else or hidden behind an unmarked door
snipe - cigarette
Moll – a gangster's girlfriend
cabbage/lettuce – money (reference to the color)
dingy - silly

author's note: who's excited? so this fic will be a darcy/bucky story, with a very strong darcy, bucky, and steve friendship intermixed. steve will not be sidelined in any way. he and darcy will have a friendship and he and bucky will still be as thick as thieves. you might've noticed above that this is a series; it's the first story of at least two, possibly three. this one will cover the time leading up to and during "Captain America: The First Avenger," with a few things changed here or there, obviously. this is also the first time I'm writing in this time period and the first time I'm writing for this particular ship, even if I've been a fan for a while, so take it easy on me. ;)

Thank you all for reading! Please leave a review; they're my lifeblood!

I'm eager to share more with you and hope you're as eager to read more.

- Lee | Fina