Disclaimer: I do not own the Marvel Cinematic Universe, but I am of the opinion that Bucky needs to be cuddled (and I am willing to volunteer for that task).
Soulmark AU Reminder: Everyone has a Soulmark, a tattoo of the first words their Soulmate will say to them. Showing someone else your Soulmark is like bearing your soul to them, so most people only show their Soulmate or very trusted friends.
The amount of dissonance between the distrust everyone held toward the Winter Soldier and the soppy way Steve talked about Bucky was mind-boggling.
Darcy had only seen him a couple of times in person, and he was imposing, but so was Steve, and so was Bruce, and so was Tony, all in their own different ways. But Darcy knew things about them.
Steve laughed.
Bruce blushed.
Tony cried.
There had to be something that Bucky did aside from kicking ass while looking ridiculously handsome and rugged and badass.
The first time she noticed it, he was standing behind Steve in the lab, looking like a bored fifth grader. Steve and Bruce were discussing Matters of Import. She was collecting some of the notes Jane had scattered around, when all of a sudden the annoying lab tech on the other side of the room winced and swore. Darcy frowned, looking around for the reason. Two seconds later there was a stinging pain above her left eyebrow. She stared down at the projectile that had dropped onto the lab bench in front of her. It was a tiny, rolled up piece of paper. A spitwad, without the spit. She looked up and made eye contact with the culprit, and he offered her a cheeky grin.
The second time she saw it, she was lugging some of Jane's broken equipment up for Stark to take apart and improve and put back together and (possibly) blow up. She was lecturing him about not making too many changes to Jane's original design when a paper airplane came sailing silently in, poking Stark behind his right ear.
"I swear to god, Barnes," Tony roared, spinning around in an attempt to locate his assassin. "If you do that again I'm telling mom on you." Darcy could hear a delighted cackle, but neither she nor Tony saw any movement.
"Has Clint taken on an apprentice in the art of vent-fu?" Darcy wondered aloud.
"I hope not," Tony griped.
The third time, she knew it. Steve spun her around and she giggled entirely too much, even for a red-blooded woman swing dancing with Captain America. The song ended with her in his arms, and he escorted her off the floor to where his friend was waiting.
Darcy picked up her glass of punch on the way. She then pierced the trickster with an amused glare and handed her drink to Steve.
"Buck…" Steve said after taking a sip. "Did you… spike the punch?"
"Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies, Stevie," Barnes quipped, then took Darcy's hand. "Mind if I borrow your dame for a dance?"
"She's not mine," Steve told him.
Bucky turned and addressed his best 'you know you love me' grin to Darcy.
She sighed. "You're going to be trouble, aren't you?"
Behind them, the punch glass broke in Steve's hand.
A flicker of surprise darted through Bucky's eyes. "That gonna be a problem, doll?" he asked her, the Words seared across her soul awakening butterflies in her gut.
"Not at all; I love trouble," she shot back.
It turned out that yes, there was something more to Bucky Barnes behind the perpetual stubble, the metal arm, and the overconfident swagger. Just like Steve could laugh, Bruce could blush, and Tony could cry, Darcy's Soulmate could pull stupid, juvenile pranks.
He was trouble.
And she loved it.
Author's Note: This fic was inspired by the ending line of someone else's! If you think you have a line that will inspire us, let us know!
