'm the bad guy, duh
I'm only good at being bad, bad
- "bad guy" by Billie Eilish
It's hard to say how long Bucky Barnes has been living in Darcy's building. She considers herself pretty observant of stuff like that. 'Stuff' being handsome men from her work.
SHIELD had its moments, among the paperwork and employees that didn't always gel with Darcy and Jane's style of working. Darcy likes that she can never fully predict where her week will go. Monday might mean R&D with Bruce, and Tuesday could be data entry – but then there could be a monster wrapping itself around the Brooklyn Bridge and Darcy's week was thrown out of the window.
Darcy doesn't know how long Bucky's been living across the hall from her because she's sure Bucky Barnes has the same weird hours she has. She only noticed him when he was coming home sometime in September when she grabbed a newspaper from outside her door.
Their landlord, Mrs. Steiner, always left Darcy a newspaper each morning. Darcy grabbed it with a piece of toast still in her mouth and glanced up to see Bucky Barnes walking down the hall to his front door, unlock it and slip inside.
He didn't say a word to her for a while. Darcy knew he was still acclimatizing to New York post-Winter Soldier. She heard the stories. She didn't read the files, she considered that enough to give her nightmares and although Darcy was brave she knew she didn't need to go looking for things to be frightened of.
Every time she sees him now she knows he's in her building feels like a gift. She can't explain it any other way, and maybe it's a little pathetic, but Darcy hasn't been on a date in a while.
She doesn't think anything will happen with her new, handsome as fuck neighbor but she always pauses in the morning in case he's on his way through. She hopes for a smile, but he never even looks at her. He's in his own world but Darcy understands.
She thinks she's figured him out until one night when she's heading out for a drink with Jane, the pair of them determined to wind down for the week when she sees Bucky slip out of his front door, looking around.
"You… you lose something?" Darcy asks, calling toward him as her key still sits in the lock.
His eyes snap up to hers and Darcy stills, feeling her stomach drop. She regrets her smile, her very presence. His eyes make her want to sink into the floor.
"The newspaper," he mutters, and Darcy blinks.
"Uh," she replies. "You get one from Mrs. Steiner, too?"
He nods. Darcy takes in his t-shirt and sweatpants and realizes he was sleeping. He looks like he's just woken up.
"You want mine?"
His turn to blink.
Darcy turns in her high heels and ducks back inside her apartment, walking to her breakfast table where her copy of that morning's paper still lay. She's glad she didn't take it to work, because most likely it would end up covered with coffee rings.
She stalked back to the hallway, closing her door and locking it before walking across the hall to Bucky's side and pushing the paper toward him.
He takes it wordlessly and Darcy makes a smile, less intimidating but still genuine. Encouraging, even.
An awkward pause. Bucky clears his throat and Darcy looks away. She figures he's a little off.
"That's from this morning, though," Darcy adds, her eyes on his bare feet for a second.
She doesn't settle anywhere on him, and he doesn't on her. He's looking at her hair and then her shoes and then finally at the paper in his hand.
"It's like… 9PM, did you know that?"
"I… slept all day," he mutters, and Darcy wishes she never engaged in the first place. She needs to leave and stop making this uncomfortable.
"Yeah. Anyway, see you."
She walks a few feet down the hall, shaking her head a little at herself more than him.
"Thanks."
She turns back, and his eyes aren't focused anywhere near her face. His eyes snap up to meet hers and Darcy realizes he must have been staring at her ass. She tries not to be openly thrilled by this revelation, just puts her hand on her hip for a second.
"For the paper," Bucky adds.
"Oh."
He leaves her in the hall and Darcy blinks at his shut door.
The club sucks. Darcy only goes to clubs to meet men, and she's sick of pretending otherwise. She hasn't been on a date in a while but she's not a nun. Dragging Jane to places only makes her boss antsy. She's her best friend but Jane can never pretend she's enjoying herself when she's not.
"There are so many guys here," Darcy yells over the music, her hand up to gesture at the mass of bodies in the distance heaving with the music.
She's feeling cute. Her fleeting interaction with Bucky only made her want more attention. Jane just rolls her eyes. Since Thor is away again her boss has become reluctant to interact with people other than those in that special circle of Asgardians. Darcy gets it, she really does, but she can't just have her job and nothing else to entertain her.
There was that time Thor was her wing man and she accesses those fond memories whenever things start to drag, but she's here on Earth and there's a roomful of guys and several have looked her up and down.
She's sick of the music, though. Nothing she can get into, and almost everyone is either drunk or high and Darcy feels like no matter what she can never quite be satisfied. She's on her third vodka soda and Jane's already wilting.
"I think I might go," Jane says, making a face. "I'll get a cab."
"No, stay. Please?" Darcy whines, touching her arm. Jane's wearing the same outfit from work, wrinkled and full of holes. Darcy's pretty sure those ankle warmers are actually hers but it's hard to tell since they borrow so much from each other. "It won't be the same without you."
"I think that's kind of the point, Darcy," Jane yells back.
There's some truth to that but Darcy pouts. Contrary to what people believe she's not great at being alone in a crowd, not since the Destroyer and the Dark Elves. Shit gets scary fast sometimes, and anxiety is hard to predict. Maybe she should head home, too.
Someone touches Darcy's arm and she turns her head for a second, distracted. She's met with a pair of intense green eyes and a black fringe. A guy in a polo shirt with the collar pushed up obnoxiously stares down at her and Darcy smiles at him.
Bingo. Prime asshole.
"Hey," he says. "You want to come with me?"
Jane just rolls her eyes and Darcy gives her a little wave.
"Okay, send me a text when you get home?" Jane asks, and Darcy nods.
She takes the guy's arm and follows him to the back somewhere, and he does a line in front of her as Darcy watches with amusement. She's sure he'll offer her something and Darcy shakes her head, throwing back a shot instead. She makes sure she orders it and he doesn't touch it.
She's a little reckless but she's not stupid. She's not about to be roofied.
She's drunk enough that she lets him take her into the bathroom, shoving her into a cubicle. He has a condom, which Darcy rejoices inwardly about because she left hers at home. His body is well-tuned, tanned and muscled to the gods. He fucks her in a clumsy, almost endearing way. He's good-looking so maybe no-one's ever told him he should learn better moves.
Darcy does not fake orgasms, period. She tries to encourage him playing with her clit. Resigned, she huffs a breath and does the work herself, but he finishes before she can.
"Seriously?" she hisses up at him, and he looks too out of it to reply with anything coherent.
Most of the time these encounters are like her own little social experiments, and most of the time the boys she meets are disappointing. Wall Street guys sometimes do something a little kinky, and the college guys like the one tonight usually go like the Energizer bunny… but now she just feels empty. Empty and frustrated.
She pulls away from him, pulling down her dress. She leaves the bathroom without a word, walking out of the club with her ears still ringing.
She's too old to do this. She knows that, but she doesn't want to stop it because the alternative is just sad. Sitting around waiting for the next work day to start. How fucking boring would her weekends be if she started taking anything seriously?
When she gets home she sends Jane the cursory message lol fuck men with the peace sign emoji, signifying her safety. She stomps through the hallway to her room, and she knows she's being a nuisance. It's past 2AM and she ducks inside, with no intention of going to bed until she's rid herself of her annoyance.
She watches a few Vine compilations and then buys some owl socks on Etsy she had her eye on, before flipping through to her emails. She opens one from an online sex shop and sees there's a sale, a little thrill going through her.
She's a grown woman and she can buy whatever she wants. That is, within her budget. She wasn't about to do something crazy but she has been drinking and one particular magenta cordless vibrator is especially appealing. She buys several pairs of lacy lingerie pieces as well just for the hell of it.
She falls asleep while she's swiping through matches on Tinder.
She's only sort of hungover the next morning. Just rough around the edges like she needs several hours to properly wake up, and she turns over to see her Tinder messages open, one guy telling her he's not that married and she grimaces.
"Good Lord."
She makes a pot of coffee and wanders around her apartment, restless. She remembers the paper and goes to her front door. She knows there's a chance that she could be seen in her rumpled pajamas but she's worn worse to bed before. She ducks down to retrieve the paper and hears a click of a door across the hall.
Her head turns for a second and she sees Bucky. Sees and somehow feels his presence deep inside her at the same time, because he's shirtless with his sweatpants hanging low on his hips.
Darcy blushes instantly, and she knows the image will be burned into her mind forever and she sucks in a breath. He doesn't look at her, just grabs his own paper and shuts the door behind him again.
Her mouth is dry and she's actually flustered when she ducks back inside, leaving the newspaper unread on her kitchen table.
What the fuck? How is that fair? Her day is practically ruined.
Darcy does not see him at work, which doesn't surprise her since she wouldn't think Bucky would be anywhere near the labs, but even when she hangs around the kitchens longer than necessary she doesn't see any sign of him.
Steve Rogers smiles at her when he walks in and Darcy smiles back. Sweet, handsome Steve.
"Hey, Captain," she says, her eyes running up and down his front.
He only shakes his head at her a little. She knows nothing would ever come of it. He's practically married to his job, though she's sure he'd be fun. She can't say her thoughts of him are pure by any means, because she's only human. His eyes still brighten at her, playful and harmless.
She knows deep in her soul that Steve fucks but she also knows she'd still have to see him at work after it, and she can't guarantee any consistency, much like Thor with Jane.
"Hey, Darcy," he replies. He goes to the cupboard for a mug which looks tiny in his hand. Darcy presses her lips together to stop herself from laughing at the image.
She waits for him to elaborate. There's always something else to add and she's got time. Nothing much happening so far that week.
"You waitin' for someone?"
He really is cute, and Darcy's mouth spreads into another smile.
"Maybe," Darcy replies, making a show of looking behind him.
"That hurts," he says, touching his chest with one hand. "Thought you were my girl."
"Hmm," Darcy replies, shrugging.
When she doesn't push past him to leave, Steve pauses with his steaming coffee and narrows his eyes slightly.
"Who's the crush?" he asks, and Darcy shrugs.
"You, always you," Darcy replies instantly, and Steve snorts.
"Bullshit."
"Language, Captain. My goodness," Darcy replies with mock astonishment. "My stars and stripes."
Steve rolls his eyes at her. "Yeah, yeah, doll. I'll find out."
She purses her lips as he leaves, wondering where the hell his best friend is.
She figures Bucky's an ass man. There are two distinct categories of men, and he's an Ass Man. Darcy has the pleasure of being both those things to men – big hips and big tits.
She knows it's crude but it cuts out a lot of wondering. She's got him figured.
Her vibrator and lingerie arrive and Darcy has half a mind to knock on Bucky's door to ask him to help her try it out. She imagines the scene and knows there's no way to make that actually happen since she's only said a few words to him.
It's great. The new toy is great. Darcy invested in a USB-charged vibrator and she'll never go back to batteries. She's not a cavewoman. She's a lady with means.
After a night of using the vibrator roughly eight times her legs ache and she's happy. She goes to bed sated and sleeps well.
She gets home later than usual one night and she sleeps in, going to get her paper. She plans to take her time to get to work since most likely it'll be another late night.
She kneels down to get her paper just as Bucky's walking down the hallway toward his own apartment, and Darcy doesn't pull back, doesn't try to cover that she's bare-legged and sleepy.
His eyes dip for a second but Darcy's a woman and reads men better than they ever really give her credit for. Her sleep shirt is loose and she's leaning forward enough to have her cleavage and most of her bra revealing in the mid-morning light.
It's suddenly a show and her cleavage catches his eye. She's not making it up in her head.
He likes both. Tits and ass.
Darcy plays a game. She's the only one playing it. The idea is to get Bucky to join in.
She knows she's shameless but she wants him, she wants him enough to act a little bratty. Maybe she can be his little naughty secret, something to keep in his back pocket at home with the rest of the world away.
Darcy's been a secret before. The first time and arguably the best time was when she was in middle school and her older brother's friends would come over to play basketball. She'd hang around, just being their friend's scrappy little sister and she'd catch them looking, their whole attitude perking up.
She lost her virginity to her brother's friend Jake. He snuck into her childhood bedroom during a sleepover and fucked her on her pink covers, hissing that they could never tell her brother, it could never get out.
Darcy thrived on that. She couldn't explain why feeling wicked felt the best, but it did. And now with Bucky living across the hall from her she had ever opportunity to replicate that part of her past.
She wears cuter clothes, and then sometimes she didn't try at all. She only saw him rarely, still. It still felt good to be bad, hoping he'd see her in her high heels taking out the trash or on her way to the laundromat when she knew most likely she'd see no-one at all.
Three whole weeks go by before he finally shows up again, and she's wearing a t-shirt and jeans, but the t-shirt is low-cut and Darcy knows she's shameless.
And truth be told she's at the end of her tether, too. She figures for half a week that she's put too much time into any of it, too much thought. She refuses to see it as pathetic, but the project leaves her in constant want.
She does have a crush, and she doesn't even know the guy. Not even a little bit.
He's at his door, unlocking it as Darcy's about to leave for work. She pulls on a jacket and gives him a look, perhaps a little too long to be seen as just friendly.
He just looks back at her, and he's taking too long to disappear again.
"Hey," he says, and Darcy smiles just the hint of a smile.
"Hey," Darcy replies, her voice soft.
She waits, and he swallows, throat bobbing.
And then he doesn't say anything else, just changes his face again and slips inside.
Darcy stares at his closed door and she lets out a sigh.
It's progress but maybe she should stop? She adjusts the handle of her messenger bag on her shoulder and walks down the hallway.
She keeps thinking about the incident for most of the day. She thinks of how relaxed he seemed for a second, and then he drew back into himself.
She wishes he'd just talk to her. She doesn't have to fuck him. That thoughts makes Darcy groan a little. She hates when she gets sentimental with guys since it usually doesn't turn out well.
Darcy stops trying, just does more of the old stuff. Clubs and Tinder and mostly disappointing kids.
She goes to a family friend's engagement party and hates how little she has in common with anyone there. She thinks of Bucky every time she sees couples together.
She still doesn't see him at work but she knows trying to go looking for him would just cross into weird, creepy and pathetic territories.
She used to think she was like the civilians she walks with every day to get to the subway. She feels apart from them more and more.
Her apartment is lonely. She stops thinking about Bucky living across from her. He could be a galaxy away from her.
Darcy sleeps with a guy two weekends in a row and he tells her he has a girlfriend. She supposes he needs a way out, but she doesn't react, and somehow that pisses him off more.
"You know, you're not that hot," he retorts, when she tells him to have a nice life.
It stings more that he thinks insulting her looks would actually hurt her. He should aim for her character, but Darcy's not about to give another asshole pointers.
She knows she's done. She leaves the club and goes home, feeling stone cold sober.
The next Friday night Darcy stays in, watches The Seven Year Itch and goes to bed early.
Should she get a dog?
She goes clubbing the next night and fucks a tourist from some tiny southern town and she can't remember his name. He's sweet but he's only passing through.
She hacks an ex-boyfriend's Facebook to just see what he's up to, and sure enough he's fucking around. He's married now, with two kids.
Look at me, she wants to scream at men she passes in the street, but she can't handle unpacking all that just yet. She knows it has something to do with Bucky.
Sunday rolls in and Darcy doesn't want to get out of bed. The effort feels like too much, but then she sees her reflection by accident in the black screen of her phone and she looks like a wreck.
Darcy hates the feeling of defeat. She gets up and makes coffee.
She opens her laptop and Googles local shelters. As the page loads she goes out to the hallway to get her paper.
She stops in her tracks, seeing Bucky there with his shirt off, leaning against his door frame, poring over his own copy.
He glances up and his eyes dip automatically to Darcy's bare legs. She's wearing Hello Kitty pajama shorts. Her baggy shirt has a coffee stain in it from earlier in the week.
She blinks. "Hey."
"Hey."
She's staring at him, but he's staring at her. She's not imagining that. She licks her lips reflexively and his eyes refocus on her lips. She feels her face flush.
She's giving herself away, as if all those other times she didn't. She feels bold, wanting to throw away all sense. She lets her eyes fall to his bare chest, the contours of his muscles, down to his stomach and hips.
Her eyes snap up to his and his face has changed, but he stills like… like he's poised to strike, Darcy realizes. He's so still it has to be deliberate. He could have turned his heel seconds ago but he stayed, and then his eyes dip.
His gaze is slower, like he's letting her see his eyes rove over her. There's a heat in his gaze and Darcy's lips part as she stares back at him. He could point to the floor and she'd kneel for him without a word. He has a power over she can't quite handle, and she usually handles every guy she comes across.
He moves back, pushing his door open with a bare shoulder and Darcy holds her breath, wanting to rub something between her legs. She presses her legs together as he disappears –
But the door's still open.
She drops her paper, taking the few steps to his front door and she feels his arm wrap around her waist and she gasps. He pulls her inside and Darcy can see his hallway is a lot like hers, but it's still dark, his curtains are still closed.
She doesn't have time to take much in as he presses her into the wall, his mouth on hers. The heat of it is enough to make her whimper and Darcy feels his hand firm in her hair.
He's rough like he's overcome and Darcy loves it. His kisses are consuming and filthy, his beard scratches her in a delightful way that makes her tingle down to her toes. It helps that his thigh is between her legs and his erection is pressing against her as they go back and forth.
She looks like shit and she needs a shower but he can't seem to get enough of her, sucking her tongue into his mouth and tugging her hair a little.
He draws back for a second and Darcy pants, staring into his dark eyes. Her hands go for the waistband of his sweatpants, and he looks down. For a second Darcy thinks she's gone too far because he pulls back further, but she leans toward him as her scalp tingles in his grip.
She opens her mouth to lick along his wet, pink lips and he hisses. He responds by licking back into her mouth, one of his hands leaving her waist to shuck down his sweatpants enough to release his cock. It bobs a little between them and Darcy stares, her face hot, seeing he's thick and the closest thing to perfect.
They kiss as his hands reach her shorts and he tugs them down. Darcy kicks them away along with her panties and stares up at him, his hand going between her thighs.
"Fuck," she whispers. He captures her in another smothering kiss and she gasps as he pushes two fingers inside her.
"You're wet," he murmurs, and Darcy opens her eyes, seeing his face change again. She feels like she's under a microscope. He stares in wonder at where his fingers disappear inside her, thrusting back and forth slowly.
"Bucky," she whispers, and his eyes snap back up her hers. "Please."
She's already close to begging, and she only gasps again as he rubs her clit with his eyes glued to hers. She fights the urge to look away. She wants to see his face when she comes. Her hand falls over his and she shows him the angle she likes best and he's a fast learner.
Her chest heaves and she can feel she's close but Bucky licks his lips and she nods. He pulls his fingers away and his hands are on her waist, lifting her up to push her against the wall. She wraps her legs around his middle, the warm, firm feel of him so inviting.
They fumble and then he dips inside her. Darcy knows her eyes are wide but so are Bucky's. He has to rock his hips a little to be fully seated inside her and Darcy lets out a shaky breath.
"Fuck," she manages to breathe. The stretch is enough to make her brain scramble.
His hands are firm on her ass and waist as he moves, clumsily at first. He probably hasn't done this in a while, but he finds a rhythm, going deeper and harder as Darcy moans.
Each drag is like heaven and she angles her hips to accommodate him, letting him take her full weight. He's incredibly strong and Darcy figures she should have known that.
This is so much better than a bathroom stall wall. With each thrust Darcy can feel her orgasm build, and she gazes at Bucky, seeing him becoming more undone with each passing stroke.
She doesn't want it to end even when she trails a hand between them to touch her clit. He pushes up her baggy shirt to see her playing with herself and he stares and stares.
She comes, only closing her eyes at the last second when it's too much. She arches her back, the back of her head hitting the wall and she gasps shakily, squeezing his cock over and over.
She goes limp for a second, her hands falling to his shoulders. His hips never still and she can hear his breath becoming labored, hot and heavy against her skin. She kisses him, teeth tugging at his lower lip and he groans – finally makes a sound that gives him away.
He pulls out of her suddenly and Darcy knows he means to come in his fist but she lowers herself to the ground, invading his space and tracing her tongue along his knuckles until he obliges, his cock in her mouth.
She stares up at him as he spills inside her, come hitting the roof of her mouth.
He pants as she swallows, letting her tongue explore the texture of him and she watches him process what just happened, and he doesn't say anything, just watches her panting on the floor with a satisfied, almost giddy look on her face.
He still doesn't talk. Darcy makes a new game in her head, that she'll do whatever it takes to make him speak more, emote more in her presence.
She pees and leaves him on his couch. She tells him he knows where she is.
They fuck the next day. He walks into her apartment when he knows she's home from work and he hesitates before he kisses her, his metal fingers tracing her jaw.
She thinks about what he could do with those fingers. When she pleads in his ear he stiffens and it's all over, she's bent over her couch and she cries out.
It feels good to be bad. Everything else is overrated when Bucky's between her legs, when the world fades away.
It happens again, except he seems more tender and it throws Darcy for a second. She puts his flesh hand around her neck and presses, prompting him and he surges toward her, kisses the smirk right off her face.
She tells him about her new vibrator and she shows him how to work it. He makes her scream by the end of the night, forcing her legs apart on the floor, the unyielding toy against her swollen clit.
She doesn't tell anyone, but she's sure it shows in how she functions outside of the bedroom. She's more fluid in movement, contented. She doesn't snap so easily, she doesn't make crass comments to rile up interns. She makes Jane laugh more.
She's sure Bucky doesn't want people to know, though honestly she has no idea. He still barely talks even when her mouth is full of his cock.
He's holding back.
It's crazy. He doesn't have a phone, doesn't use email. The only way she can know if he's home is whether he comes by her apartment. He's still invisible at work.
Darcy avoids Steve in general, but he manages to run into her eventually, and she knows. She knows he knows instantly but she's relieved he doesn't judge her.
"Bucky seems… different," he says, and Darcy nearly drops her spoon that she's got for putting sugar in Jane's coffee.
Steve's never mentioned Bucky's name before. Darcy just shrugs, because 'different' could mean anything, and Bucky still just comes by to fuck her and then breeze back out again.
Steve doesn't press her about it, about intentions or whatever. She's glad.
What are they?
Neighbors.
Neighbors who fuck.
They have sex in her bed and Bucky goes down on her for the first time.
It's the best Darcy's ever had and she's trying to ignore the significance of that, and also the significance that Bucky's not done it before.
He's got a focused but softened look on his face while he works her clit over with his tongue, laves her cunt and makes her thighs quiver. She'll probably have a rash from his beard in the morning but it's worth it, so fucking worth it.
Her fingers dig into his scalp and she rubs herself against him, coming with a shudder and a whimper. He pulls away and he's a mess, he's covered in her and he wipes his mouth with the back of his flesh hand and Darcy pulls him toward her, feeling her chest tighten.
They're slower than usual. Not that Bucky's a selfish fuck, he's anything but. He's generous and unapologetic – well, he doesn't say anything anyway – and Darcy knows she'll most likely never have it so good again.
He says just one word, her name as he comes, gasping into her hair.
He falls asleep beside her. They don't touch but he's never slept over before. Darcy knows it means something. She can't sleep while he seems run down.
What does he do all day? What does he think?
What does he want?
He has a nightmare. Darcy is torn from her sleep as she hears him whimper beside her. She glances down, remembering their night together and she rolls over, touching his arm.
He's deep inside it, whatever he's going through. He mutters something that can't be English and Darcy turns to switch on her lamp. Her room is flooded with warm yellow light and Darcy moves closer to him, her hand hovering above his face.
She doesn't know what else to do, so she touches him as he whimpers, fingers brushing his face, thumb brushing his lip.
Quick as lightning, his eyes snap open and his hands are on her throat, but it's nothing like before, his eyes are full of rage and Darcy gasps.
"Bucky, it's me, it's me!"
He's still got her by the throat and she can't breathe. His face falls and he blinks furiously, his chest heaving.
"Jesus Christ," he whispers, letting her go.
Darcy coughs, her ears ringing while Bucky looks horror-struck.
"I shouldn't have fallen asleep," he says, looking around for half a second before his hand touches Darcy's shoulder. "I'm – I'm so sorry."
It's the most he's said in weeks and Darcy feels her eyes sting but she shakes her head.
"Is that… normal? Do you do that often?"
"I sleep alone because of night terrors, usually," he replies.
His voice is rough. He keeps checking her and Darcy wants him to stop. Everything was fine until a few minutes ago. She shouldn't have touched him.
"I should go," he adds.
He leaves without another word. Darcy doesn't chase him, doesn't say goodbye.
He doesn't come back, and Darcy thinks it's way worse knowing what it's like to be close to him than to have never known at all.
She starts crying when she gets a papercut one morning. Just bawling, with snot and her ugly crying face and Jane comes over, looking terrified.
"What happened?"
"My… finger!" Darcy wails, holding it aloft.
She thinks Jane will ask her if she's on her period but she just hugs her awkwardly. She doesn't say anything else, and Darcy kind of wishes she did.
Her high school reunion is awful. Like, just a total shitfest, really. She hates that she RSVP'd. Most of these people can't hear much about her job anyway, she just says she works for SHIELD.
One guy who used to be a Star Wars fanboy riddled with cystic acne asks her what that's like, and then makes some joke about her having to kill him if she told him the truth.
"If only I could," Darcy mutters, and the guy laughs. She's only half-joking.
The quarterback who used to fuck her after band class is there, and it's clear he still works out.
Darcy hates that she can't relate to anyone. Everyone is so fucking fake.
She goes home alone, stops by Bucky's front door and raises her fist to knock, but she doesn't.
She stops herself every time it nearly happens over the next week.
She goes back to the idea of getting a pet, but instead of a dog or a cat she gets a rabbit and naturally names it Bugs.
Bugs roams free most of the time and she takes a lot of photos of him. He likes to eat paper and often enough gets into her sock drawer. She likes holding him in her lap while she watches Netflix, his little bunny heart thumping against her skin.
She reaches the point where she doesn't cry randomly, which is good. She has Jane and the research and SHIELD and Bugs at home and maybe, maybe things will be better.
She walks into the kitchen and almost collides with Bucky, and she visibly reacts.
She hasn't seen any sign of him in weeks and she glares at him reflexively, only to see he's frowning at her, imploring her with his big, sad eyes.
If he was any other guy Darcy would never deign to speak to him again, but he's Bucky, so…
"Hey," she says, her face slackening.
"Hey," he replies. "How are… how are you?"
"Can't complain," Darcy replies, feeling her cheeks heat despite her words.
They're alone and someone could walk in at any given moment. She didn't want an audience, especially when Bucky was looking at her like it was painful to be around her.
"I'm sorry," he says.
His metal fingers ball into a fist, the plates whirring.
"For what?" Darcy says, her voice a little flat.
"For… for disappearing," he says, and Darcy tilts her head.
She wasn't expecting that. Then again, she wasn't expecting him to just be at anywhere near her that day.
"What?"
"I'm sorry I didn't ask you out," he adds. He lets out a breath, a small smile playing on his lips. Darcy finally sees it – he's nervous.
"Oh," she says, eloquent as always. She swallows. "That's okay."
"I want to… fix that," Bucky says, and Darcy's eyes widen.
"You know this is the most you've ever said to me?" Darcy blurts, and he gives a short laugh. "Like, ever?"
"Yeah, I…" Bucky ducks his head for a second, looking at Darcy's hand by her side. He takes it, squeezing. "I want to do that more."
There's a whistling and Darcy freezes, and Clint walks in, his eyes going to their joined hands. His eyes widen slightly and he circles the kitchen, only to promptly leave, never pausing his whistling.
Darcy covers her face with one hand, the other still resting in Bucky's, and she sighs.
Then she starts to laugh.
"What? Bucky?" Jane repeats when Darcy tells her she's going on a date with him for the first time. "As in, Steve's Bucky? As in, Winter Soldier James "Bucky" Barnes, Bucky?"
"Don't have an aneurysm, Janey," Darcy mutters, sipping her coffee.
"I'm serious!"
"Me, too," Darcy says. "We live across the hall from each other."
Jane's eyes bulged. "I knew something was going on! I asked Steve –"
"You thought I was sleeping with Steve?" Darcy interjects, and Jane rolled her eyes.
"He never said a word."
"Oh, good. So Steve's not a gossip," Darcy says, sitting down at her computer. "But we don't need to talk about it much."
"You were hooking up with Bucky Barnes, it's a big deal!" Jane says, and Darcy meets her gaze.
"You're right, it's a big deal," Darcy admits. "But he took a while to ask me out, so…"
Jane makes a face. "But you don't… date."
"No, I really don't," Darcy mutters.
They walk together like they barely know one another, and it's awkward but Darcy talks about herself. It's different. A good kind of different.
Their fingers thread together as they make their way back to their apartment building and they walk up to Bucky's place.
He lets them in, and his place is as sparse as Darcy remembers it. He has a crucifix on one wall but Darcy's never heard him pray, never thought he was religious.
"My mom's," he murmurs, and Darcy's eyes widen.
"How did you get it?"
"My baby sister, she gave it to me," he murmurs. "She died a few months ago. She was in her early nineties, but…"
Darcy touches his hand, and he swallows hard.
"That's awful. I'm sorry."
"What about you, where's your family?" he asks, and Darcy looks away.
"Didn't want me," she says. "I was in foster care most of my life. Got away to Culver and then I met Jane and Erik Selvig."
"Doll, that's…" Bucky meets her gaze and he shakes his head. He's never called her anything like that before and it feels good. He seems embarrassed, though. "Sorry. I sound old."
"So what?" Darcy throws back. "I like it. I like you."
He just blinks and Darcy moves toward him, tilting her head and kissing him gently, pressing her lips to his and breathing him in. She misses him more than she can probably ever properly articulate.
His hand goes to the side of her face and he cups her, his mouth slanting over hers.
She sighs against him, eyes fluttering shut. He kisses her with just the right side of neediness, his hunger undeniable. She draws back eventually, panting a little.
She pauses because his stare is so intense, and there's a vulnerability in his gaze.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" she whispers, feeling her stomach flip and her heart begin to hammer.
He takes a second to consider the question, his metal thumb brushing her lips.
"I know we don't know each other all that well," he begins, and Darcy frowns for a second.
"We do," she whispers. "I do know you."
"Yeah," he rasps. "And I love you."
She stares at him, and she catches her breath. She feels her eyes sting.
"I love you, too."
He smiles and she smiles back. She knows he wants to say more but he's already said so much that day, and maybe that's okay. She takes his hand once more.
"You want to meet my rabbit?"
"What?"
Bugs sniffs his metal fingers and hops along Bucky's lap. Darcy puts on Looney Tunes cartoons from the 1930s, her old favourites, and they watch together with Bugs occasionally averting their attention.
They argue. It's not all easy, and Darcy knows they're bound to fuck up every once in a while. She's surprised by her own resilience.
She thought she'd never fight this hard, love this hard.
"You could do better," Bucky says more than once, usually after he has a nightmare.
"So could you," Darcy retorts.
They sleep separately sometimes, but they often give in within hours. Bucky is predictable that way. Darcy pretends she has a better resolve, but she always misses him.
"Move in," Darcy says, when he sneaks in one night after trying to create another boundary. They had the briefest bickering about it but he left for about twenty minutes.
He hovers over her, lips moving enough to brush hers when he speaks.
"Really?"
"Yeah, move in," she murmurs. "We can be roommates, not just neighbors."
It's a lame joke but he laughs anyway, and she smiles up at him in the dark. He kisses her, only for it to turn urgent like he's been gone for a whole day, not half an hour.
She's always wet. It takes very little to have him rock hard, too, so Darcy's not alone in that aspect. He still murmurs in wonder every time when he touches her between the wet folds of her cunt, making her hips roll.
"Fuck me," she hisses, shameless.
"Huh?" he murmurs, another filthy kiss between them before she speaks again.
"Please fuck me."
His hand goes to the lamp and she sees him properly, his erection like a tent in his sweatpants. She likes him like this the best – warm and soft yet hard.
They both undress and they join again in needy kisses, Darcy's legs hooking over his hips.
"Please," she whispers.
As if he'd ever turn her down. He pushes into her and Darcy gasps.
He's getting better at talking more. He told her he used to be a chatterbox back in the day, nothing could ever make him shut up. She doesn't mind if he's quiet still, but she likes that he tries.
"Fuck, you feel so good," he hisses, and their mouths don't quite close when they kiss again.
It's clumsy and desperate but Darcy moans into Bucky's open mouth and he mirrors her with each thrust.
"You're gonna make me come so hard," he adds and Darcy smiles, rocking back against him. "Feels so good, I'm so close –"
He looks down to see she's bringing herself off and he stares, and Darcy reaches up to kiss him again, biting a little to make him groan.
She clenches around him and she whimpers.
He wraps his arms around her to pull her even closer, to push as far as he can as he bucks, chasing his release.
"Darcy, Darcy," he says her name over and over, and then he dissolves into a moan.
She feels him twitch as he comes inside her and he stills, nails still digging into her ass and side.
He pulls back, only to grab at her and kiss her.
"You, you, you," he says, and Darcy just laughs.
Bucky comes home with a rabbit around Valentine's Day.
Its white with pink eyes and it sits in the crook of Bucky's arm.
"His name's Pee Wee Reese," Bucky says the instant Darcy lays her eyes on the bunny.
Her eyes fill with tears and Bucky smiles up at her, his own eyes turning glassy.