Bucky POV
Bucky shut the door as the elevator doors closed. "Damn, that's some woman," he said aloud to the empty apartment. He shook his head and scratched at his chest, walking back to the couch to continue his game of Call of Duty: Black Ops. His addiction to the first-person shooter game was indirectly Clint's fault. The archer had dropped by, quite literally, as he accidentally fell out of the air vent by the television, one day while Steve was at the gym. Bucky had just stared at the man standing in the living room, hair still dripping wet from a shower and wearing a pair of drawstring shorts and no shirt.
"Hide me," was all that the man had said, so Bucky shrugged and sat on the couch. From there, the two had become fast friends, and Clint had even begun to use the door recently. Once, he had brought over a PS4 and all of the Call of Duty games, and Bucky was hooked. He popped the headset back onto his head and resumed gameplay.
An hour later, Steve stumbled back into the room in yesterday's rumpled clothes. "Hey, punk. A dame stopped by earlier, lookin' for ya," he said in greeting, not looking away from his game, but pushing the mic away from his mouth. He rarely actually spoke to the other players on his server, even Clint, but he listened in and did his part. It helped him relax and focus better than punching bags and sparring matches with Steve could.
Steve froze, head shooting up to look at Bucky. "Dammit, Buck, I am so sorry you had to deal with Hurricane Darcy."
Bucky logged off the game and turned to look at Steve, a huge grin on his face, "It was no big deal. She was a helluva sight, Steve. She found you, I take it?" The incredulous look on Steve's face was quickly replaced by one of shame as he nodded. "Go shower, idiot," laughed Bucky as he stood from the couch to turn off the game system. Steve slouched his way into his room, and the door clicked shut behind him. Bucky stretched his arms above his head, the pull on the tight muscles in his shoulder blades felt delicious. He went into his room to change into clothes suitable for going out of the apartment. He left his sweats crumpled on his bed as he pulled on a pair of jeans and grabbed a black t-shirt from his drawer. As he was pulling it over his head, he called out to Jarvis. "Jarvis? Could you do me a favor?"
"How may I help you, Sargent Barnes?" replied the smooth voice of the automated butler.
"Where is Darcy?" he asked, feeling slightly like a stalker, but too curious about the pin-up girl who had showed up at the door that morning to care.
"Darcy is currently in the kitchen, making lunch for the team," replied Jarvis.
"Thanks," replied Bucky absently, combing through his tangled hair and trying to decide whether or not to cut it. He liked how it was different from the Bucky he had been before the Fall, but he felt like it was too reminiscent of the Winter Soldier. "Hey, Jarvis? Where can I go to get my hair cut?"
The AI paused before replying, "There is a barber two blocks over that Captain Rogers goes to often." Bucky nodded and headed toward the door.
"I'm going to get my hair cut," he called to Steve, then rushed out the door before the super soldier could respond. He stepped into the elevator, still pulling his jacket onto his shoulders and his shoes untied. He had one of Stark's prototype camouflage devices in his pocket, and he quickly stuck it to his arm and activated it. His metal arm immediately took on the appearance of having human skin.
He made it to the lobby with tied shoes and his jacket pulling across the muscles of his chest before he pulled his Stark phone out of his pocket and called Jarvis. "Hey Jarvis, which way is the barber shop?"
"Take a left out of the building and walk two blocks south. Ellenwood's Barber Shop will be on your left," replied the AI.
"Thank you Jarvis," replied Bucky before hanging up. He checked his wallet to make sure he had some cash, and swore when he was greeted by a puff of dust. Clint was going down for using Bucky's money to pay for pizza every game night. He shook his head and walked down the street towards the barber shop, hoping he passed an ATM along the way. Clint had taught him how to use one, though the action was intensely familiar, so Bucky could only assume the Soldier had used them at some point. Twenty minutes later, Bucky found himself outside the barber's, wallet filled with his latest withdrawal from the account Stark had set up for him. He walked inside and took a seat in the waiting area and picked up the newspaper from the table in front of him.
"Hello, my name's Mike. How may I help you?" asked a man with dark hair, graying hair. He held his hand out to shake, and Bucky stood up and shook his hand.
"James. I need a haircut, but I'm not sure what I want," he replied, following Mike to the empty chair.
Mike nodded, poking his fingers through Bucky's hair. "Okay. Do you trust me?" Bucky met the barber's kind green eyes in the mirror as he pulled an apron around Bucky's shoulders, and nodded. "Great. Any things you don't want?"
"Shorter, but not too short. Something easy to deal with on the go. And don't shave. Just haircut," decided Bucky. He needed something that wouldn't get in his way but still looked good. After all, he had his eye on a girl. He couldn't look like a hobo, as Clint had once called him.
"Don't worry, you're in good hands," assured Mike, picking up his scissors. He began to cut Bucky's hair, a steady stream of conversation falling easily from his lips. "So, James, are you new to New York?"
"I was born here, but then I went away for awhile. I just got back last month," Bucky replied as the barber snipped away. The long strands of hair fell to the floor, and Bucky felt lighter after every snickt of the scissors.
"All done," said Mike, pulling the apron off with a flourish. Bucky had been in the chair for nearly a half hour, and as he leaned forward to run a hand through his hair, he grinned. It was a clean cut, cropped close to his head on the sides and in the back, but still had length in the front. It was parted to the side, and the fringe of his dark brown hair hung above his eyebrows for the first time since he could remember.
"Thank you so much, man," he said, standing and shaking Mike's hand. "How much do I owe?"
"Twenty one," replied the barber, hanging up the apron and walking to the front register. Bucky paid the man, and left with a wave.
"See you around!" he called over his shoulder, deciding that he would keep coming back to the barber shop. He was whistling as he walked back to the tower. He felt the stares of a few women as he passed, and a grin spread across his face. He hadn't realized how much he had missed the appreciative stares on the street. His mind shot back to that morning, and his grin got even wider. He wondered what Darcy would think of his hair. That thought startled him, as he hadn't even known the girl for twelve hours and he was already wondering what she would think of him. He rubbed a hand across his chin, and immediately regretting not getting a shave as well. He walked into the tower and immediately went up to the apartment. Leaving his shoes and jacket by the door, he deactivated the camouflage device and went to his bathroom. Looking in the mirror, he realized exactly how out-of-control his stubble was getting. "Jarvis?"
"Yes, Sargent Barnes?"
"Is there a razor in this bathroom?"
"Under the sink, there are both safety razors and a straight razor, Sargent," replied the AI. "Please exercise caution, as I don't believe that Captain Rogers would be happy if you injured yourself."
Bucky chuckled and replied, "Thanks Jarvis. I'll do my best." He pulled the straight razor from under the sink and felt the weight of it in his palm. It was familiar from his days before, and it felt good to have the familiar action to keep his hands busy. He found a can of shaving cream and a bottle of aftershave in the cabinet above the sink and got to work. The scrape of the razor along his skin was comforting as he stripped away the growing beard. It only took him a few minutes, and he was patting Old Spice aftershave onto his face and heading out the door soon after. The sting of the aftershave felt invigorating, and Bucky headed up to the kitchen, noticing that it was still well before noon and hoping Darcy still had some soup cooking.
He strolled into the kitchen to see Steve pleading with Darcy to forgive him as the brunette began to chop some chocolate. "You might want to give the girl some space, Steve," he drawled, leaning against the counter near the door. Darcy jumped and glared over at Bucky. She brought the knife over to the sink and washed it before beginning to scrub at a place on her finger.
"Fuck, Barnes, you need a bell," she swore, glaring at him. "You almost made me cut my finger off." He was over by her side in seconds, pulling her finger from under the water to examine the cut. "Jeez, James, I'm fine. I was exaggerating." She pulled her hand back gently, and he felt her eyes roam over his face.
"I'm sorry, doll. I didn't mean to startle you," he apologized, rubbing at the back of his neck. He smirked a bit when Darcy's eyes darted to his bicep. She pulled her plush, dark pink lower lip in between her teeth, and a shiver went down his spine. He realized that they were standing extremely close together, and he felt a strange sensation moving from his neck up to his cheeks. Darcy began to giggle, and he looked down, his hair flopping down over his forehead as he recognized the feeling as a blush. James Barnes did not blush.
"It's fine," she said, a huge grin splitting her face as she squeezed past him to finish chopping up the big block of chocolate. Bucky moved over to the large stockpot on the counter and peered over the top. Damn, it was a big pot of soup. He went to lift the lid to smell it, but there was a whipping noise and then a stinging sensation on his left asscheek. He turned to see what was up, and Darcy was mixing butter and sugar together in a bowl with a green towel slung over her shoulder. He raised an eyebrow and moved to open the pot lid again, not moving his eyes off of her. She didn't turn around, but she grabbed the towel and flicked his hipbone with it. He jumped at that one, what with its proximity to organs he quite enjoyed using.
"The hell, Darcy?" he asked, going for the soup again, testing her reflexes. She hit him with the towel again, this time barely an inch to the left of his dick. Fuck. She was scary.
"Don't touch the soup," she said, turning to place the chocolate into the microwave with one hand while stirring eggs and vanilla into the big bowl with the other. "It's still got twenty minutes. Go get me the bag of chocolate chips from the pantry, if you insist on staying in my kitchen."
Bucky looked around for backup, but Steve had disappeared. "Fine." He slouched over to the pantry and dug out a huge bag of chocolate chips, which he then set on the counter. Hoping to avoid being ordered around, he went to the fridge to see what there was to drink. He found a can of Coke and took it to the island stools, where he could sit and watch Darcy work. She was mixing the chocolate chips into a huge mixing bowl, and she dipped her finger in the batter to taste it.
"Want some?" she asked, pulling out a handful of spoons. He raised an eyebrow at her and opened his mouth to speak, but was stopped from saying anything by the spoon that she shoved in his mouth. "Who wants some cookie dough?" she called out, and the whole team came stampeding into the kitchen. Bucky sucked the cookie dough off of the spoon thoughtfully as he watched the Avengers interact with the intriguing brunette in front of him. Tony ruffled her hair, and she whacked him with a spoon. Clint poked her in the sides and Natasha smacked him upside the head when Darcy jumped. Bruce grinned, more at ease than Bucky had ever seen him, Sam Wilson stuck his spoon in his mouth quite greedily, Steve wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her into a half hug – which he also got hit with the wooden spoon for, which made Bucky grin – and Pepper, Jane, and Thor all tried to sneak more cookie dough. He was impressed by the way they all seemed to care about her and how she was such a part of their world.
"You good, Buck?" asked Steve, walking over, still rubbing at his forehead where the spoon had connected with him.
"Yeah, I think I am. I'm actually pretty hungry, too," he said, raising an eyebrow at Darcy. "C'mon pin-up girl, when's the soup done?"
Darcy returned his stare for a moment before turning and walking over to the soup, her hips swaying with the simple movement. His eyes were glued to her curvaceous ass. "Now. But you got another thing comin' if you think you get the first bowl, soldier." She waved a ladle that had seemingly appeared from nowhere at him. "Now put that height to good use and get me some bowls." She moved to fish out spoons as Bucky stood up and went to get the bowls. The cupboard was right above the silverware drawer, which Darcy was currently rummaging through. An idea sparked in the back of Bucky's mind, and he reached over her to get the bowls. He pressed his body flush against hers, and he felt her breath catch as her back stiffened.
"Sorry, doll," he breathed in her ear as he balanced the entire stack of bowls in his metal hand. He let his other hand brush against her waist as he braced himself on the counter. "Where do you want me to put these?"
"J-just over there, by the soup," she stuttered, and he grinned smugly at that. He carefully backed away and turned to see Steve raising an eyebrow at him. Bucky just shrugged and winked at his best friend. He set the bowls down and turned, only to find Darcy pressed up against him, spoons in one hand, towel over one shoulder, and a sexy little smirk twisting her lips. "Need something, James?" She said his given name in a way that made him want to whisk her away to a dark room and give her a night to remember. Hopefully more than one night. He took a deep breath, trying to prevent himself from shaking and stepped back. Darcy followed him, and he bit back a groan.
"Fuck, doll, gimme a break. 'Sides, the team must be hungry," he said, voice low.
"Darcyyyyyy," whined Tony, "where's the soup? I'm hung- oh. No hanky panky in my kitchen." Bucky whipped his head around to stare at the laughing billionaire.
"It's my kitchen and we both know that, Tony," replied Darcy, seeming unfazed by what had just transpired. She served up soup and everyone came and crowded around. Bucky did not get the first bowl of soup.
A/N- This chapter did not want to be written. I am so sorry about that. But here it is, awkward Bucky-ness and all. He doesn't like me much. I hope you enjoy this, and, even though I am back at school, I will be doing my best to keep updating and posting new fics. I'm going to go start on Chapter 3, now. I think Darcy will be telling more of the story from now on. All my love- Rose