Walking back to her room, Darcy spied Natasha playing volleyball along the way.
She pursed her lips, wondering where Bruce was.
She found him sitting under the shade of a palm tree with a book.
Fortunately he'd sort of acclimatized, wearing shorts and no shirt, but he wasn't aware Darcy was standing beside him until she tapped his chair with the edge of her flip-flop; that was how absorbed he was in his book.
"Hey, boss."
Bruce jumped, and then lowered his sunglasses to glare up at her.
"Darcy."
He always sounded mildly annoyed with her.
"You gonna see Natasha at some point today?"
"I'm still on New York time. I'm going to bed soon."
Bruce looked back at his book.
Darcy read over his shoulder. Of course it wasn't a novel; it was about the Roko's Basilisk theory.
"Yikes. That seems totally inappropriate as a beach read."
"What did you bring?" Bruce retorted, giving up and closing his book, getting up from his deck chair.
"Stephen King."
"Which one?"
"I couldn't just bring one. I have five."
Darcy followed Bruce as he walked back toward the back entrance to a villa that must have been his. He opened the little gate to the patio, pointedly shutting it behind him and leaving Darcy on the other side.
"You are your great-aunt's niece," Bruce called after her.
Darcy didn't say anything.
She knew pushing Bruce into anything might result in her getting told off.
There was always a possibility Bruce could file an official complaint against her, and then HR would be telling her she wasn't supposed to meddle with his love life.
She pursed her lips again, knowing he just wanted to sleep.
She strolled back to her room and slammed the door behind her, before taking out her phone.
She threw herself on her bed, looking through her notifications.
No new emails from Jane.
So it looked like they weren't talking right now. And Darcy wasn't sure what frustrated her more, the fact that she was just being honest with Jane and was being punished, or the fact that when she ever tried to be friendly with anyone else and not overstep anything, she was pushed aside.
Bruce she was used to, because he was grumpy and impatient.
Steve on the other hand – everything seemed to be going fine until he backed off with his stupid tough guy stance.
Darcy didn't have time for people who distanced themselves from her, especially when she was on vacation.
She put on her summer playlist on her portable speaker, the one she made before the trip to keep her in a good mood, and lay down on her bed.
She napped for a couple hours, and woke up to a dark room.
It was around 2 AM New York time.
Rubbing the sleepiness from her eyes, she listened to the sounds coming from outside.
She switched off her iPod, which was midway through a Elvis Presley rendition of Aloha Oe, and decided to change her outfit.
Swimming felt like the best thing for her now, and she put on a sleek black one-piece and her flip-flops.
She carried her keys and her iPod and speaker with her towel, leaving behind her phone.
The walk to the beach was lit by kerosene lamps and a valet walked past her, tipping his hat.
Darcy smiled, because fuck it. She was determined to have a good time.
The moon shone above the ocean, its reflection rippling with the tide.
Darcy put her stuff down and put on some music, back to Elvis.
She tied up her hair in a ponytail and looked around.
Further down the beach there were more people swimming, but she couldn't make out anyone from the compound, and there was certainly no sign of Natasha and her volleyball playing pals.
Maybe they went to a luau she heard took place each night at the hotel.
Darcy dove into the waves, the water perfect even in the dark.
She didn't go far out, wanting to still hear the music from her speakers.
She half knelt in the water, closing her eyes as Elvis crooned about being lonesome tonight.
Darcy wasn't lonely. This solitude was a gift, especially because she wasn't glued to her phone for once.
"Hey," called a voice from the shore.
Darcy opened her eyes, turning toward the sound, and saw Steve Rogers standing there with no shirt on, his khaki pants rolled up.
Her mouth went dry.
She shot up from her spot in the water, the water splashing loud and muffling her returning:
"Hey."
"You're listening to Elvis Presley?"
"Yeah."
Darcy made the short walk out of the water, sand on her wet feet and sticking, and distinctively saw Steve look her up and down.
He wasn't lecherous about it; it was just a slight dip in his gaze that gave him away.
Could he see her nipples in her swimsuit?
Probably, and she decided she didn't mind if he looked.
He looked like a dream, back to smiling at her, the moonlight bouncing of his ridiculously chiselled upper body.
Darcy picked up her towel and squeezed some of the water out of her hair, swallowing a couple times and trying to reel herself in.
"I have listened to him a bit. He's on my list."
"List?" Darcy asked, and Steve shook his head, seeming a little embarrassed.
"I have a list of things I'm trying to catch up on. Stuff I missed because of the ice."
Darcy nodded.
She pointed at him. "Jeff Buckley. His album Grace."
"Okay. Noted," Steve said, his soft smile reaching his eyes and making Darcy want to curl herself around him.
She wondered if she could even wrap her arms around his chest. It didn't seem likely.
She changed the subject and looked away.
"How were the monuments?"
Steve's face dropped, putting one hand in his pocket, and Darcy noticed he clutched his shirt in his other.
"Good. Really good."
Darcy nodded.
"I mean, I'm not sure how to describe it. I was a part of it. It made everyone want to enlist."
"Mustn't feel like too long ago," Darcy murmured, and Steve nodded.
"It feels like only a few years for me. For everybody else, it's a lifetime ago."
Darcy put her towel on the ground, horizontal.
They sat together in silence, watching the waves in the moonlight.
"What did you get up to?"
Darcy lied, "I read a lot."
She thought admitting she napped might make her sound lazy. She thought of Natasha playing volleyball, with her lithe limbs and bouncing hair.
Darcy stopped herself from comparing herself too much. Steve just wanted someone to talk to.
"Also I tried to make Bruce socialize," Darcy added. "Didn't work."
"Yeah, he's stubborn about that," Steve murmured. "Hope he makes the most of the week."
"I keep thinking I'm just bugging him," Darcy admitted. "I mean, I am being intrusive –"
"How come?" Steve asked, and Darcy felt his eyes on her again, and knew she was close to blushing.
She drew her knees up and hugged them, covering most of her body.
"I want him to be with Natasha already."
Steve burst out laughing, making Darcy stare back at him.
"Is that something else you heard around the office?" Darcy said drolly, one eyebrow raised.
Steve nodded. "Except Natasha excused herself a few hours ago during dinner and I haven't heard from her since."
Darcy gaped, understanding what she hadn't earlier.
"That sly dog," she murmured, thinking of Bruce shutting his gate and walking off to bed.
Steve chuckled a little.
"I mean, good for them," she added. "I want people to be happy together."
"It's hard. In this line of work."
Steve wasn't smiling anymore, sobered up and looking back at the ocean.
"Jane said to me once that it's highs and lows," Darcy said, rocking a little. "You know – the highs are high. And the lows…"
Steve looked back at her.
"…they're fucking terrible," she finished, and he nodded.
"I can relate," he murmured.
Was it her place to ask?
"I heard – and tell me if I'm outta line – that you and Sharon Carter -"
Steve swallowed. "Yeah. It didn't work out."
He didn't seem bothered by her asking. Just kind of sad.
"I'm sorry," Darcy said, though she wasn't sure why she did.
The knowledge that Sharon Carter, relative to Steve Rogers' first love Peggy Carter, had dumped him a couple months back was old news.
There was an awkward pause, and Darcy wondered what to do about it.
"She's better off," Steve said, and Darcy felt herself cringe.
"I doubt that," Darcy muttered, because she couldn't help herself.
She wasn't ever going to be crowned the queen of subtlety.
Steve huffed a laugh. "Thanks, Darcy."
He played her off, and Darcy was fine with that.
After a few more moments of silence save for the waves in front of them, Darcy reached for her iPod, pausing Elvis halfway through Heartbreak Hotel.
The irony wasn't lost on her, and she shook her head a little before finding the album she was looking for.
"Let's cross this off your list right now," she said, and pressed play.
Steve, who seemed side-tracked, looked over at the iPod in her hands and read Jeff Buckley's name and then smiled a little.
Darcy watched Steve listen for a couple minutes, wondering what he was thinking.
"He has a beautiful voice," Steve murmured, and then bent his head a little, listening to the lyrics.
"He was a poet," Darcy replied. "He died when I was little."
"How?"
"Drowned," Darcy said. She sucked in a breath. "He was only thirty."
Every time she thought about him dying like that, she got choked up. It was the same whenever she watched a Marilyn Monroe movie.
"I know it's stupid. I didn't even know him. But he means a lot to me."
Steve didn't tease, didn't roll his eyes. He just nodded.
"I understand."
And Darcy believed him, too. Steve didn't seem like a liar.
Maybe white lies to spare feelings, but never anything outright false with a malicious intent behind it.
Darcy cleared her throat. "I'll skip to one of my favourites."
Steve nodded, watching her change the track with his head still bent.
He had an amazing jawline, and Darcy smiled a little at her present situation despite herself.
She was hanging out with a really great guy, who was most likely the hottest person she ever met, and he was just interested in being with her, with no annoying questions to ask about why she and Jane had hidden away for months. Also, she was sitting on a beach with him.
"It's not his song. But I feel like it is at the same time. It's a sad one."
"I can listen to sad songs, Darcy," Steve said, smirking.
She liked the way he said her name, with a friendliness Darcy had ignored she'd needed badly since Jane left her side.
"It's a doozy," Darcy added. "Don't say I didn't warn you."
Darcy heard the familiar breath, so heavy. Burdened, even.
The opening chords of Hallelujah filled their ears and she watched Steve over the next few minutes transform from easy-going to quiet and pensive all over again.
Darcy didn't dare ask what he was thinking as he stared at the sand near her foot.
"Almost sounds like he's exorcising something."
Darcy let out a short laugh, her throat feeling tight.
"Yeah."
Her voice betrayed her. The song got her every time, even if she was having a good day. And being in a tropical paradise wasn't going to change that, either.
The song finished. Steve sighed.
"Jesus, I missed that guy's whole life."
"Yeah," Darcy murmured, her eyes still stinging.
"I've missed so much."
"Why don't you borrow my iPod?"
The idea was sudden, but it seemed like a good one.
Steve looked taken aback. "I dunno, Darcy…"
"Come on. I could use a break from technology."
She paused it again, and then pushed it into his palm, and Steve held it anyway, though he still shook his head.
"Thanks."
"Just look after it."
Darcy got up from her spot on the towel and Steve copied her, watching her as she packed up her things.
She handed him the portable speaker.
"This, too. It's connected automatically but if you have any issues, ask Sam."
Steve smiled a little at that. "Because I'm an old man?"
"Of course," Darcy threw back. She put her flip-flops back on. "I'm gonna go to bed."
She just smiled at him, feeling the tightness in her throat dissipating.
"See you."
She walked away, and heard him reply softly, "See you, Darcy."