So when your boyfriends sit you down in the kitchen and say they have something important to tell you, a few things run through your mind:

This is it, they're breaking up with me.

Oh god, they're secretly married.

There are kids I don't know about (but that I could totally deal with…probably).

They secretly hate all the food I've been making.

But you know what doesn't come to mind? THAT THEY'RE FUCKING DEMONS.

Yeah, that's decidedly not on the list of things that Darcy thought would come out of their mouths. So, naturally, she assumed they were making up some stupid story to get her to break up with them. I mean, really.

But why? She thought things were going well. She had two ridiculously hot men who cared for her, and that she cared for in return. Like, a lot. She was so in like with them it wasn't even funny.

They had been dating for about four months now. They had met at a farmers market of all places, in front of the homemade caramel stand. After bonding over the deliciousness of the sea salt flavored ones, they had wandered around, casually chatting. After spending a few hours together (and, really, she had such a great time with them she didn't realize how much time had passed), they had asked her out. If she hadn't been with them all afternoon she would have thought they were drunk.

Of course she said yes. She'd have to be crazy to say otherwise.

Their first date was a quiet dinner at a small bistro followed by roller skating of all things, and it was great. It was one of the best dates Darcy had been on, and she told them so. She was rewarded with soft smiles and two wonderfully chaste good night kisses.

She was not a sex on the first date kind of gal, and they respected that. Points for them.

There were more great dates over the following weeks, including museums, bookstores, and carnivals.

And, when they finally did reach that next step, the sex was amazing. Like, holy shit, don't stop or I will kill you, amazing. Burning up the sheets amazing. Never want to leave the bed amazing.

So, yeah, this sudden talk of fucking demons was not really computing for her.

"You're demons?" she asked, disbelief clear in her voice.

Bucky was the one to answer, with a smile and a shrug like it was no big deal, "Well, more born of a demon. But mom was human, so…yeah."

Darcy looked at Steve. That didn't help. Motherfucker just sat there as calm as can be. Like they weren't spewing crazy talk.

"Are you high?" Even if she's seen no evidence of drug use in the time that she's known them didn't mean it wasn't possible, and that had to be what this was. A bad trip or something.

Steve chuckled, "No, sweetheart, we're not. Can't really get high. Wait, can we?" He looked to Bucky as he asked.

Da fuq?

Bucky cocked his head to the side and seemed to contemplate that. "I don't think so? Never really tried."

Putting her head in her hands, she laid her head on the table in front of her. What is her life right now? She asked her next question with her face still on the table. "Demons?"

Why hasn't she walked out yet? Maybe because some part of her was morbidly curious how this would turn out. Jesus.

"Born of," Steve repeated. "We're called cambion's. Our dad's were incubus who had a thing for human women and apparently they really like our mother's."

"Mother's?" Her voice was still muffled but she just couldn't bring herself to look at them while they were having this ridiculous conversation.

"Yep. They visited them around the same time and then we just kinda…grew up together."

"That's insane!" Darcy yelled, head shooting up. "Do you realize how insane this sounds? If you wanted to break up with me you could've had more balls than to make up some stupid story about demons!" She'd had it. Really. What the fuck was she supposed to think? Demons! Ha!

Bucky reached out and took her hand, and damn her she let him. He held it gently, his thumb running over the back of it trying to sooth her. "We don't want to break up with you," he smiled. "The whole reason we're telling you this is so that you know everything. It's been hell keeping this from you."

She watched as Steve stood up and walked towards the counter. He said over his shoulder, "There is a way to prove it, but you're probably not going to like it."

Well that didn't sound good. She bit her lip. "Um, okay?" Seriously, Darcy? She sat there berating herself for even playing into this when she saw him take a knife out of the block. A very sharp knife. He also grabbed a dishtowel. She may have started to get nervous. Were they going to sacrifice her or something?

The fear must have showed on her face because Bucky got up and sat next to her, never letting go of her hand. "Hey, it's okay. We would never do anything to hurt you, dollface."

Steve sat down on her other side. Bucky put his arm around her shoulder and gently turned her to face him.

It happened fast.

Taking the knife, Steve slashed the blade across his palm. Blood instantly pooled in his palm.

Darcy tried to jump up. "Holy shit! What are you doing?"

Bucky kept her in place with his other hand on her waist and whispered, "Just watch."

Oh, she was watching all right. In horror! This was…this was too much. Oh god, she was going to pass out.

"Look," Steve said as he took the dishtowel and wiped at the blood on his palm. Once it was cleaned, all Darcy could do was stare.

There was nothing.

No cut. No unbroken skin. Nothing.

She had watched him cut himself.

She sagged in the seat, relying on Bucky to keep her from sliding off the chair completely.

"You know," Bucky said as he settled his arms around her waist, hugging her to him, "we probably just could have showed her your wings."

Darcy groaned as she thunked her head back against his shoulder. "Demons."

Jesus.

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