It was eleven-thirty on a Saturday morning in August, and Darcy was in the kitchen making lunch.

Because apparently, that was her life now.

Charlotte sat at the breakfast table that took one most of one side of the large, sun-drenched space, rubbing out a red crayon on a page torn out of her brand new Avengers coloring book.

Thank you Tony, for snapping up all of the team's merchandizing copyrights so the Avengers could accrue income to fall back on even without the assistance from the agency formerly known as SHIELD.

In the first few weeks after she made the move from London, Darcy tried to help him and JARVIS track down the bottomless hole of misappropriated SHIELD funds that Hydra absconded with, but they hadn't had any luck.

It was like it all just disappeared, which wasn't actually possible.

But these days, that was neither here nor there.

After the first week of what was probably the longest three months of her life—including the aftermath of everything that happened in Puente Antiguo where there had been multiple spans of days where no one got any sleep—Darcy had been ready to tear her hair out and drink the entirety of Tony's extremely impressive wine collection.

If there was one thing she'd picked up from her own upbringing—see raising herself while her mother didn't—and the continued responsibilities she had with Jane, Tony, and Bruce, it was that she was not cut out to be a mother.

A slightly frazzled and constantly exasperated caretaker, she most definitely was, why bother trying to deny it?

After all, her default method of calming a manic Jane was to shove a latte and a PopTart in her hands and send her down to Thor.

She was just not the most nurturing woman in the building by any means, and that was fine.

There were people with worse quirks.

But it was hard enough when she couldn't just tell a tantrum-having kid to just suck it up and deal with whatever Charlotte chose to get upset about.

She was a great kid—she loved Charlotte to pieces because how could she not—but everyone had a limit, and on most days, Darcy reached hers quickly.

Some days were bad enough that even Bruce was offering to teach her some of the meditation techniques he used to keep the Other Guy at bay.

Pepper, ever the godsend—and Darcy still had no idea how she got the empty apartment renovated in mere days—suggested that she take advantage of Stark Industries' employee daycare program, which would not only give Charlotte the chance to spend time with kids her own age, but more importantly give Darcy a few hours a day to herself.

And with JARVIS being the best built-in nanny there ever way, Darcy could try to take care of her scientists at odd hours without worrying that Charlotte was getting into trouble.

Her mind raced as she cut a plate of washed vegetables to go with the grilled cheese that was finishing up on the fancy cooktop island.

How in the world was she going to tell the girl that she wasn't going back to Washington to start Pre-K come the end of the month, especially since Charlotte was so damn excited that it was pretty much all she could talk about?

The fact that she should have been in kindergarten by this point, two months away from her fifth birthday, was neither here nor there.

How in the world did no one in their cozy—and more importantly, nosy—little neighborhood not notice that Charlotte wasn't going to school?

Then again, no one really noticed when she started walking herself to and from school in first grade; so basically, her neighbors were just as bad as her mom.

But even after two and a half months of venting to her bathroom mirror, to Jane and Thor, and even a few staged conversations in the elevator with JARVIS, Darcy was no closer to finding a way to explain to her that their mother just flat out didn't want to raise her anymore.

So much so, that after dumping Charlotte on the Tower's doorstep, Carissa Lewis and the taxi she was riding in dropped right off the face of the damn planet, like she never existed.

And it wasn't like she could just show Charlotte the letter when she could barely read.

And that was another matter of contention, because really, a four-year-old, especially one as aware as Charlotte, should at least know some of the alphabet at this point.

Sighing as she ran face-first into the same mental wall she'd been banging her head against for weeks, she turned away from the cutting board and scooped up the spatula before making her way back to the skillet.

If she ever saw her mother again, she swore she was going to strangle the woman.

Sliding the toasted cheesy goodness onto a waiting plate, she pulled a knife out of the block and sliced it in half, "Order up Charlie! Crayons away!"

Halfway through cutting the sandwich into manageable pieces and waiting for it to cool off a bit, JARVIS piped up, "Ms. Lewis, as the only affiliate currently in residence, I feel it prudent to inform you that Captain Rogers has just returned from his trip abroad."

"Cool, cool. Think he wants a sandwich or six? I'm sure home cooking isn't easy to come by in butt-fu-" remembering that there was a parrot in the room, she wrinkled her nose. "Fudge nowhere."

"I would not know. He has an associate with him."

Her brow cocked as she snagged a piece of the crust with burnt cheese that Charlotte wouldn't eat anyway—picky weirdo—and popped it in her mouth, "Oh really? Is it that Wilson guy from the cluster-mess in D.C.?"

"No. I have been unable to confirm, but I can extrapolate and infer from the information that Agent Romanov leaked that it is Sergeant Barnes."

Darcy blinked and spared a glance to the arched doorway that led to the elevators, "Guess this means things around here are going to get a little more exciting, aren't they J?"

"I'm not entirely sure what you're insinuating, Ms. Lewis."

She smirked, "I'm sure you're not."

As she handed the plate to Charlotte, the chime on the elevator rang out before JARVIS' muted voice greeted the new arrivals, and Darcy started in on buttering more slices of bread for another round of grilled cheeses when she heard footsteps approach the kitchen.

"Ms. Lewis? I didn't think anyone was supposed to be home today."

Steve looked more than a little travel weary as he stepped into the kitchen, concern flashing across his face when he saw it occupied.

Last she knew, from a conversation she overheard—or was allowed to overhear, because spies—when Clint was on the phone with Natasha a couple weeks ago, Steve had been in the middle of lord knows where, Europe, and or some of the countries that used to make up the Iron Curtain.

"It's so wonderful to see you again too, Cap," she grinned, and then continued before he could stumble through an awkward apology. "Pepper is making Stark live up to his responsibilities and actually attend SI's bi-annual board meeting, and Jane, Thor, and Banner have been up north doing something related to atmospheric distortions for the last two days. I'm not sure where Clint is, but he promised to bring back cupcakes for Charlotte, and JARVIS won't let him back in the building if he doesn't."

Steve blinked at her while the man behind him silently slipped inside, and Darcy watched as he took note of the room's occupants and its entrances with a practiced, cautious eye.

She waved a hand, "Anyway, can I interest you and your friend in a sandwich comprised of melted cheese and happiness?"

The man at Steve's shoulder—like she didn't know exactly who he was—narrowed his eyes at Charlotte as she ate her lunch with her back to them all, completely oblivious to the newcomers as she stared wide-eyed at the cartoon playing on her StarkPad.

Since she moved in, Tony decided to indoctrinate Charlotte against any and all Apple products—including Darcy's beloved recovered iPod—and Darcy was more than a little worried she was getting too spoiled.

Then again, she really did need that new wardrobe full of absolutely adorable clothes that Pepper gave her to commemorate her first month in New York.

"That's my little sister Charlotte," Darcy cleared her throat to get her attention. "Charlie, say hi to the Captain and his friend."

She glanced up and chirped a greeting to both men before she fell back into her own little world, and Darcy nodded with her chin as she put the butter aside and grabbed a block of some fancy cheese Tony kept in stock, "Your turn Cap."

"Really, you can call me Steve," he shifted back and placed a hand on the other man's shoulder, and Darcy didn't miss how he flinched at the contact. "This is Bucky. He's, we fought together back in the, uh," he looked back at Bucky helplessly as his response wavered before dying off.

"During World War Two," Darcy suppressed the urge to roll her eyes as she finished his sentence when Bucky didn't. "I studied history during my aborted attempt to get a degree in political science, so I know exactly who he is. Also, I'm going to pretend I didn't tell you exactly that when you visited Thor and Jane in London."

She turned her attention to Bucky, "Now you sir, you look like you need a shower, some comfort food, and all the alcohol in the tri-state area. We'll start with the sandwich, and I'm not taking no for an answer."

He remained silent, his eyes flicking back and forth around the room, and Darcy's arched eyebrow rose higher toward her hairline as she glanced back at Steve, "What's his deal?"

"I think he's a little concerned because you've kind of been waving that knife around since we walked in."

Oh.

"My bad," she whipped the blade around and stepped aside, placing it on the counter before stepping back so it was out of reach. "Better?"

Bucky was still silent, but his shoulders dropped a fraction, and he looked a little less like he was a heartbeat away from stabbing her, or running away, or shitting himself, and Steve smiled, "Thank you, Ms. Lewis."

"Shit Rogers," she lowered her voice so Charlotte wouldn't overhear. "Ms. Lewis is a psychotic dumbass who dumped her four-year-old on her twenty-six-year-old daughter because she apparently 'couldn't handle parenting' a second time. For the love of all that is holy, please call me Darcy."

"Oh," and now he kind of looked like he wanted to run and hide. "I'm sorry?"

She waved a hand in dismissal before going back to the sandwiches she was prepping for the stove, "Long story short, you missed a few things during your whirlwind road trip to find your wayward bestie. How 'bout I make you guys some lunch and we talk about those exploits instead of the fact that I literally want to murder my mother."

Bucky made like, half of an expression at her words, "Figurative literal murder, I promise," she smirked. "While I'm sure Stark would donate some of his billions to my legal support, I have enough to deal with right now taking care of him and my other scientists."

Steve blinked, then turned back to Bucky and nodded toward the bar stools tucked under the island opposite Darcy, "We should probably eat," he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "It's been a long couple days."

Bucky's booted feet made no noise as he shuffled into the room, keeping a wary eye on Charlotte as he shifted onto the stool by the wall that kept everyone in view, and Steve followed, dropping their bags in the doorway before he sat down with a stool between them.

"But, what about your father?" Steve asked, and he had this painfully earnest look on his face that made her feel a little sick. "Is he in yours and Charlotte's lives?"

She shrugged a shoulder, "For all I know, Tony is my father," she rolled her eyes. "But not really, and JARVIS, please don't go fishing. Let's just say that mommy dearest doesn't know who my dad or Charlie's dad actually is. There's a gaping hole on both our birth certificates. Woo-hoo."

Steve frowned, "Oh. I'm sorry. That must have been difficult."

"It's whatever," she drawled pointedly because subject so over, as she dropped two slices of bread on the skillet before digging into a cabinet for one more. "Five each? Ten each? Twenty? Any special requests for toppings? If you can think it, we probably have it. And I do mean that literally, have you seen the pantry?"

Looking as overwhelmed as Darcy felt, Steve glanced at Bucky, watching as his brow twitched, which he seemed to take as some sort of response, "Why don't we just start with a couple? And uh, plain is just fine Ms., I mean, uh, Darcy."

As she worked, Darcy kept watch on Bucky out of the corner of her eye, telegraphing each and every move she made, using every skill she picked up in dealing with how trigger-happy Clint got before his first three cups of coffee.

"All done!" Charlotte chirped a few minutes later as she hopped off her chair and grabbed her plate, taking it into the kitchen and dropping it in the sink with an unexpected clatter that made Bucky jump.

"Grab a chair and come help me, Kid," Darcy said as she gestured to her right side with her elbow.

With a nod, Charlotte ran back around the island, unaware that Steve was watching her as he leaned over the counter and grabbed half a slice of cheese lying on the cutting board, "You never mentioned you had a sister."

"I came home from my second junior year of college and found out that mumsy was eight months pregnant, and, like I said, the mystery sperm donor had long since flown the coop. It was great, except, you know, not at all. A few months later I ended up in New Mexico with Jane and the rest is history."

She lifted Charlotte onto the chair and patted her head, "You're on cheese layering duty, Kid. The more the better, these two eat like Thor does."

"Okie dokie!"

The first two sets of sandwiches were sizzling away on the skillet, and Darcy fiddled with the stove's heat settings as she looked up at Steve, "So," she drawled. "Do any good sight seeing while you were away?"

Steve leveled her with a bland look, and she shrugged, "What? No one is going to judge you if you decided to take twenty minutes to have a look around. I mean, dude, Europe. Have you seen Eurotrip yet? You should add it to that cute list you've been making."

"Darcy," he heaved a put-upon sigh.

"Come on, the only reason Bucky's sitting here watching me cook right now is because this is where he wants to be," she looked up and waited for his nod of agreement.

And then she remembered who she was dealing with and went on anyway, "You know I saw the footage from D.C. and read some of the zillion and a half files Natasha released. I mean, it was like something straight out of those spy thrillers I don't have time to read anymore."

She grabbed the spatula and eased one side of the sandwich onto its made before scooting the entire thing onto the plate Charlotte slid toward her, and then did the same with the other, "Here you are. Round one."

As she put the plate in front of Bucky, a knife sprang into his right hand from fucking nowhere.

She snatched her hands away, taking a step back from the stove, "If you don't like grilled cheese, you could have said something, or you know, frowned in my general direction," she muttered trying to keep herself calm so Charlotte wouldn't notice. "Unlike most people my age, I'd like to think I could cook more than just the basics."

Bucky scowled down at the pieces of bread and the cheese oozing out the sides like it offended him personally, "There are fourteen ways to compromise both the bread and the cheese with supplies found in this kitchen," his voice was a harsh rasp, like he didn't use it.

Which was a sickening non-surprise.

"The grilled cheese isn't compromised," Darcy looked at Steve, who looked like he was ready to jump at Bucky in case he lashed out. "It isn't. Why would I do that to the best meal ever? That would be mean."

Steve ignored her, "You need to eat something Bucky. If Darcy gets you something unopened, will you?"

"I'm functional."

"Well you won't be if you keep this up," Darcy muttered, and then turned to Charlotte. "Kid, grab me another block of cheese and some bread from the pantry, yeah? Something unopened."

There probably wasn't a lot of wisdom in keeping her in the room with a guy who single-handedly destroyed a major city block and put Steve in the hospital, but hey, there was a massive granite island between them.

And a Steve.

Or maybe, after so many years in this world, she was just crazy.

That was probably it.

Charlotte came back with more bread and some unopened sharp cheddar, and Darcy grinned as the girl climbed back up on the chair, and she juggled the block of cheese in one hand before she placed it in front of Bucky, easing the plate he scowled at in front of Steve for him to eat instead, "How's this look?"

He reached out, frowned, and then switched hands when he realized he started with his left, and glared down at the block, turning it over and over before he nodded once as he put it back down, "It is adequately wrapped and doesn't show any signs of tampering."

"Well yeah, Pepper would castrate Tony if he tried to kill me," Darcy chuckled. "You want slicing duty or am I allowed to take the knife again?"

She waited and watched Bucky glance between her and the knife before he placed his own back on the island and nodded once.

Grabbing the spread and the dullest butter knife in the kitchen, Darcy passed them to Charlotte for the bread and started in on the not compromised cheese, and within minutes, two more sandwiches were sizzling away on the stove.

Eventually, Steve finished off one half of sandwich number one-of-umpteenth, and cleared his throat, "So how is, Ian was it? Is he still in London?"

"Ugh," Darcy flinched, her eyes flicking to Bucky, who seemed to be content with ignoring them as he ate, and she rolled her gaze back to Steve. "So I guess that means you didn't hear about the thing that happened while you were busy not being a tourist."

Immediately, concern flashed across his face, his eyes sparking with a new level of attention on her, "What happened?"

She huffed a sigh and grabbed another slice of cheese to snack on, "After the Intern was done basking in the glory of your biceps, he remembered that he was a disciple of the big H and tried to steal Jane's research. Oh, and kill us in our sleep."

Steve blinked before he translated the meaning behind her words, "Oh."

"Yeah, oh. So ugh," she waved a hand in dismissal, because she despised talking about Ian. "And for the record, I'd like to think that it was an aberration and not at all due to my judgment being subpar. My judgment is awesome. But anyway, I got to taser him before Thor dealt with him, and now we're all here. In this kitchen, eating."

Charlotte grabbed the hem of Darcy's sweater and tugged, "Can I have a snack?"

"Excuse you, you just had lunch," she quipped as she eased another sandwich on Bucky's plate.

Apparently after one sandwich, he realized how actually hungry he was, and Darcy really didn't want to know what he'd been living off of since he slipped Hydra's leash.

Charlotte rolled her huge blue eyes and stamped her bare foot against the seat of the chair, "But lunch isn't a snack."

Darcy rolled her eyes right back before looking at the men across from her, "See what I have to deal with? You're lucky you don't have siblings."

With a short laugh, Steve shook his head, but broke off when Bucky frowned and dropped his half-eaten sandwich back onto the plate, "I-" his eyes were wide as he broke off and swallowed hard.

"Buck?"

His shoulders were a tense line as he eventually craned his head toward Steve, "I had a sibling?"

Darcy winced.

Of course her offhand comment about family and not her blatant reference to his former captors would trigger the poor guy.

She mouthed an apology to Steve as he reached out and to put a hand on Bucky's arm before he thought better of it and let it fall to the counter between them, "You did. Her name was Rebecca."

"I-I don't-" his eyes darted back over the exits again, and Darcy curled her fingers around Charlotte's arm, ready to pull her away from the counter as his shoulders tensed up to his ears. "I don't remember."

Bucky squeezed his hands to fists, and Darcy heard a low, dull sound from his left side, gears grinding under his ratty, oversized windbreaker, "Hey Charlie, go get a snack and take it in the other room," she muttered. "Go enjoy that Tony's got all the TV channels known to man and most to monkey."

"But-"

"Go."

Seconds later, she was gone, snack in hand, and Darcy looked on as smoke rose from Bucky's shoulder, the mechanics of what was obviously his metal arm whirred and grinded into a high screech.

She turned her frown on Steve, "Is he going to be okay?"

He kept his focus on Bucky, ready to move and defend Darcy if he needed to, "His arm was damaged," he said quietly. "He agreed to come here so Stark could take a look at it."

The limb in question twitched hard, and Steve made to reach out for it again, "Bucky," he drew his hand back. "You need to stay calm or it's going to get worse, remember."

Darcy flinched at the word, but Bucky's attention was focused on the space between him and the counter, his mouth moving slowly even as he remained silent but distressed by whatever he was recounting to himself.

"I don't remember."

"I know," Steve made to reach out again, but squeezed his hand into a fist. "Bucky look at me. You came because we can help you here. We will get you the help you need."

His body shook with the force of the shudder that rocked through him, and his eyes flicked to the hand resting by his arm, "There's nothing to help," he rasped. "Help is for humans. I am not human anymore."

Darcy felt sick at the look on his face, and Steve swallowed hard, "Yes you are Bucky," he insisted. "You saved my life. You wouldn't have pulled me from the river if we weren't."

It took a while, but he finally looked up and at Steve, "I'm not him. I can't be. Even if you fix me, I can't be him," he looked back down to the plate and pushed it across the counter. "I'm not hungry anymore."

Just as Darcy was sure he was going to flip out and run off—like out a window and scaled down the side of the building or something equally ridiculous—Bucky heaved a heavy sigh, blinked twice, and looked back up, "I am, I am functioning within acceptable parameters."

"Bucky, your arm caught on fire yesterday."

He looked down at the limb, his gloved fingers splaying shakily against the granite before he forced them back into a loose fist, "The statistical probability of that reoccurring with the repairs you and I were able to make is zero point zero-two-five percent."

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Darcy flicked the stove off, "As reassuring as that may be, I should probably call Tony. You'll be his number one favorite person in existence for giving him an excuse to cut out on his meeting."

"I'd really rather not interrupt," Steve started, but Darcy cut him off with a wave of her hand.

"As much as I have had first-hand experience with the building's fire suppression systems and I know full well that they work perfectly, one of Tony's rules is that people aren't allowed to catch fire on the premises. Especially when it's not his fault."

Steve looked like he was about to argue again when Bucky shrugged and muttered, "You heard the lady, punk."

Surprise smacked Steve in the face as he looked at Bucky before blinking out of it and shaking his head, "All right, yeah," he turned to Darcy. "Could you call him then, please?"

She flipped her phone out of her back pocket and unlocked it, "You won't regret it," she frowned and tapped her phone against her mouth. "Okay, maybe a little. I heard about that pissing contest on Helicarrier 1.0."

Steve rubbed his hand over his eyes, "I'd rather not talk about it."

Looking between the amusement on Darcy's face to the annoyance blooming across Steve's, Bucky arched a brow, "I am not supposed to be surprised, I don't think?"

Eyes flaring wide, Darcy shook her head and went back to her phone.

Everything was going to be just damn great when Tony got back.

Or, more than likely, the building was going to explode.

She put the phone to her ear in time to hear him say, "Lewis, please tell me the world is ending."

Yes, the building was probably going to explode.


Thankfully, the building didn't explode. Yet.

Not that Darcy was technically privy to what happened once Tony got back—in obnoxiously record time via a new suit he apparently kept in the trunk of his car—and he and Steve managed to coax an extremely reluctant Bucky into the lab before sealing it off.

And that's why it was important to be nice to the computer system that ran the entire household.

"I'm sorry, I just can't wrap my head around this," Jane said as she sipped her wine, the sounds of Thor clattering around in the kitchen as he made dinner—along with being the heir to a glittering otherworldly kingdom, he was a fantastic cook, who knew?—echoing faintly into the sitting room of their suite, a floor above the one Darcy and Charlotte moved into.

Looking away from the breathtaking view of the city skyline—she was obsessed, so sue her—Darcy shrugged and tapped her fingers against the side of her own glass, "It's not like it's rocket science, which I know you understand. They got in from wherever they were and I made them lunch. I didn't go out of my way or anything, I was already cooking for Charlie."

"He was a Hydra assassin for seventy years!"

"Not willingly," since Charlotte had long since been tucked into bed and was most definitely asleep, Darcy rolled her eyes as she took along sip of the cabernet she and Thor pilfered from Tony's not-so-secret stash. "And assassins need to eat too. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if Agent Romanov could eat Thor under the table if she really wanted to."

Jane spared a look over her shoulder to the kitchen, "I don't think it's the same thing."

"Well I don't think Steve would have brought him here if he was really a threat."

"Darcy, you said he pulled a knife on you."

She snorted, "I think he was more threatened by the sandwich than by me. Pretty sure he knows that the only way someone like me is going to get the upper hand on someone like him would be by compromising his food. Which I wouldn't," she said pointedly in case he was somehow listening, because spies. "Because that would be rude."

Jane narrowed her eyes at something she heard in Darcy's tone, "Are you really okay with him being here with Charlotte around? I know we're all handling things a little differently since she got here. Even Tony's being more responsible with what projects he takes out of the lab these days."

She shrugged and drank down the rest of her glass, "I'm fine with her around Bruce, and let's be real here, it's basically the same thing. At least Barnes isn't going to get ten feet tall and green when he gets snippy."

"Yes, but-"

"I'm not worried, okay?" She cut Jane off, because when she got going, no matter the subject, it was hard to get her to stop.

And wasn't that a law of motion or something?

"I mean, he basically ignored her then entire time he was in the kitchen with us, which in retrospect, may not have been the best idea I ever had, but whatever. It's fine."

Eventually, they heard the thump of the oven door closing before Thor made his way into the living room, a mug of beer in one hand and the half-full bottle of wine she and Jane opened earlier in the other.

"Thanks," she murmured as she took the bottle and refilled her glass before topping off Jane's, pointedly ignoring the face she made when she filled it all the way to the rim.

Clad in sweats and a t-shirt, Thor took the seat between Jane and the arm of the couch, and she curled up against his side as he settled an arm around her, "We haven't discussed it yet Darcy, but for whatever it may mean in your realm, Charlotte is under Asgardian protection, just as you and Jane and Erik are."

She rubbed her fingers down the bridge of her nose, "I know. Thanks big guy."

He grinned around a swallow of beer and tipped his head, "Of course. Have you given any thought to her schooling? I know you said she was behind due to the circumstances of her upbringing."

"You don't know the half of it," she grumbled. "She's not as behind as I first thought, which is great. And Pepper gave me a list of some disgustingly competent tutors to catch her up if she needs it, along with a bunch of schools Stark Industries can get her into."

"Anything sound promising?" Jane asked, her eyes flicking to Darcy's tablet, which was propped on the coffee table against the pile of paperwork and science journals she kept there.

Darcy rolled her eyes, "They all do," she snorted into her glass. "I'm leaning toward the Constance Billard School for Girls. Disgustingly good graduation rate, through the roof SAT and ACT scores, easily secured campus, and I'm pretty sure the entire student body is spawned from the richest of New York's elite, so at least she'll be around kids with parents as security-conscious as we have to be."

"Sounds like you've already made your decision."

She shrugged, "I'm a little out of my depth here, okay a lot, but it feels right. Tour I took the other day pretty much has me convinced."

"Your instincts are unlikely to steer you wrong," Thor grinned. "They didn't when we first met."

Smirking, she wrinkled her nose at him, "I sure as hell hope so. I'm going to talk to Pepper and finalize all the paperwork on Monday," she muttered around a jaw-cracking yawn. "Crap. I'd better get to bed. God this pseudo-parent think is making me super lame."

Stretching her legs out in front of her until the feeling in her feet returned in the form of sharp pins and needles, Darcy got up from her perch, leaning down to hug Jane and clasp hands with Thor before he stood and walked her out.

"Sleep well, Darcy," he hugged her again. "All will settle down soon enough."

"I think Pepper said that three months ago, but thanks," she grinned, throwing a final wave at Jane over her shoulder as she made her way to the elevator at the end of the hall, low strains from an acoustic guitar slipping into the space from Clint's apartment.

As the elevator made the quick trip downstairs, Darcy flicked through the Twitter feed on her phone— AvengerSightings was hilarious in all the ways it was almost always wrong, HulkPants kept throwing theory after bizarre theory about how said garment could flagrantly defy just about every law of physics, CapDoesntKnow had some pretty hilarious memes of Steve's imagined reactions to modern-era technology and media, while ShitStarkSays was flat out the best thing on the Internet.

And knowing his narcissism, probably run by Tony himself.

So she didn't notice the person standing just outside the elevator doors until she stepped right into someone's arm.

"Oh crap!"

Her free hand flew to her forehead after it rebounded off something hard, and she blinked away the pain to see the sleeve of a loose gray Henley taking up most of the space in front of her.

"Er, Bucky?"

He took a step back, angling his left arm—and holy shit that thing really hurt—away from her, "Sorry."

"No, that's all on me, I wasn't watching where I was going," she grinned up at him, because he was probably not entirely comfortable with people who weren't well, Steve.

Then, she blinked, "Wait, what are you doing down here?"

"That is my residence," he pointed to the door across the hall from hers.

Right, they were saving the other apartment for whenever Steve decided to show back up.

Cool.

Bucky's hair was wet and tied back, and he'd not only shaved, but also no longer looked like he was on the run, even if his black sweat pants were tucked into the calf-high combat boots he wore when they arrived.

"You do not possess many relevant survival skills," he finally went on, and then looked her up and down again, probably aware of the way her gaze kept slipping off him as her wine-addled mind tried and failed to focus.

She was going to have to get the name of the brand out of Jane and make Tony get more of that wine.

Knowing him, he'd probably just try to buy the entire winery.

Wait.

Back up.

"Was that supposed to be an insult?" She was mostly sure she didn't actually sound accusing. "Because I survived both a crazy flame-throwing robot sent by a demigod having the temper tantrum of the century and creepy non-Tolkien elves from another universe. My survival skills are awesome."

Bucky frowned, and part of her wanted to ask him what was going through his mind, but that would be a can of worms she was definitely not sober enough to handle.

Eventually, he shook his head, "This floor is secure."

Blinking slowly, she nodded once, "Uh yeah, biometrics in the elevator won't allow unauthorized personnel into the residential levels anyway. JARVIS is totally on it. Yay him."

"Thank you for your vote of confidence, Ms. Lewis."

Bucky shifted, his shoulders tensing at the AI's interjection, and then he nodded again, "It's significantly better than your last residence."

"My what?"

"The residence you shared with the woman, the man who hung a hammer on the coat rack, and the other man who didn't wear pants."

Flinching as she remembered Erik—who hopefully was still taking his meds, and she should probably call and check in on him sometime soon—and then her eyes flared wide, "Wait, you were in London?"

He stuffed his hands in his pockets, resting his metal shoulder against the wall, "It took me a while to remember where I saw you. My memory isn't very," he trailed off, jaw ticking. "Accurate. Sometimes."

"But you were in London, like, months ago, right when Steve first started looking for you?"

"I did not know what he wanted from me."

"Steve?"

"I will not be taken in and wiped again."

She nodded slowly, and then stopped when her brain caught up with her, "Wait, wiped? Do I want to know?" He seemed like he was about to deflect when she cut him off with a shake of her head. "Never mind. I'm not sober enough for stories of Hydra-themed shenanigans. I don't think I will ever be sober enough. There's no point in telling me."

Silence fell in the hallway, and it was on the verge of diving headfirst into awkward when Bucky tilted his head, his blue eyes boring into her bleary pair, "You require additional electrolytes before you go to sleep."

"Dude, I require so many things before I go to bed," she smacked a hand over her mouth. "Please pretend I didn't say that."

A look crossed his face that probably would have been a smirk on someone who had actually been allowed to express emotions for most of his life, but it fell away quickly, back to that impassive mask he'd been wearing most of the day, "Why don't you start with Gatorade?"

"Sounds like a good plan," she chuckled as she moved around him. "Thanks."

As she made her way to the door of her suite, she slapped her hand against the panel next to the door, waiting for it to read the lines on her palm before it beeped and let her in.

Sparing a final glance over her shoulder, Bucky was still watching her, another strange frown on his face, "Those sandwiches were nutritionally adequate and," she watched as his jaw worked as he fought for his next words. "Tasted good. They were good."

She dipped her head, "I've got an entire list of combinations I've been meaning to try out, if you're interested."

Apparently, it was Get Drunk And Make Friends With Your New Assassin Neighbor Day.

Except he probably had about a million better things to do, like dismantling the remains of the organization that kept him captive for so long and recovering from everything that happened when he was in custody of said organization and the whole metal arm issue, and a whole host of other things that she was still not sober enough to think about.

"Maybe."

Well then.

Okay.