My brain does things sometimes.
Disclaimer: I dont own this.
Darcy had met James Buchanan Barnes on the helicarrier, a year after she had been dragged into the mess that was S.H.I.E.L.D, meaning she also got sucked into the fiasco of New York, when Jane had decided it was a good idea to fly there from the research lab and try and find her alien boyfriend. Darcy, being her assistant, had gone with her, mostly to make sure Jane actually ate and slept, and had ended up very narrowly escaping impalement on the wicked curve of an otherworldy speargun, wielded by what she later found out was a chitauri.
A red head woman in a catsuit had torn the creature's head clean off.
"Go with these men." She had ordered. "They will keep you safe."
Darcy had stumbled into the van numbly, mildly traumatised by her encounter, and had sworn long and loudly when she saw none other than Phil Coulson, pale and tired, annoyingly alive, and still in possession of her ipod.
"Give me back my ipod, creepy secret agent man." She had hissed, much to the surprise of the tactical team the man was surrounded with.
"It's in my drawer." He had replied.
He never got the chance to give it back.
She had become Fury's secretary, and had somehow become best friends with the Avengers.
And fuck her if she had any idea how it happened.
Steve had been ordered on a mission with Natasha, and she and Clint were nervously sitting in control, watching the progress of the mission through the security cameras on board the ship.
Everything went to shit after that, she and Clint had gone to ground when Hydra had revealed itself, and they had only returned when six months later, Steve and Sam had returned from Austria with a new friend.
Or an old friend, in Steve's case.
James Buchanan Barnes.
Wicked attractive, even with his matted, chin length hair, a metal arm, razor sharp wit to match her own, and stupidly pretty lips that she had a hard time dragging her gaze away from.
She was arse over teakettle for him within a week.
It took a long time for him to be comfortable with people, but they were friends, and she had been there for him, and a year later, he had kissed her under the mistletoe at the Christmas party she had thrown, after getting caught under it with a guy from college.
Jealousy was ridiculously hot on him, especially since he had cut his hair, and she could see his eyes blazing.
A month later, they had slept together for the first time, and she had told him she loved him while he snored.
Two months after that, he had reciprocated, and she had returned the sentiment, both of them unerringly awake this time.
He kept finding new ways to tell her he loved her.
One morning, he had inadvertently whispered it in Russian, and she had smiled so widely she thought her face would break.
"Ya tebya lyublyu." He had said again, and kissed her until she couldn't help but break for breath.
The next day, he had been shipped off to Yemen, and two weeks later, she picked him up at the airport.
"أحبك ." He had said, sweeping her up in a tight embrace.
It became a thing.
She came in from work and he yelled, "Je t'aime." from the shower.
She cooked, and he kissed her on the top of her head.
"Te amo."
He cooked.
"Kocham Cię."
She always laughs, she always smiles, and she always says 'I love you' back to him.
He proposes, four years after their first kiss.
"Ik houd van u." He says as she cries and says yes in as many languages as she can think of.
They get married. Steve is best man. Natasha is her maid of honour.
"S 'agapó̱."
She tells him she is pregnant.
"Aku mencintaimu."
She gives birth to twins, and he tells all three of his girls the same thing.
"Ich liebe dich."
He tells her 'I love you' in all the languages he knows, and he even learns some new ones.
But english is still her favourite.
I love you.