"Don't look down the barrel with an arrow and a bow
Dressed down in apparel with camouflage from head to toe
With everything so sterile in a heavy monotone
Oh soldier, you gotta let things go.."
- "Soldier" by Trixie Mattel
Part Ten: Couch
Ian is surprised it takes four hours for him to be found instead of the usual three. He's ready when the man knocks on his hotel room door, disguised as room service.
Ian's able to knock him out pretty easily, but then three other men follow after him and there's only so much energy left in him after the last couple days he's had. Since fleeing New York, he was cooped up with only energy bars and bottles of water. He knew his own disguise had been useless – HYDRA really was everywhere, even after SHIELD fell.
He wakes up with Molokhov's face looming over his, strapped to a chair with his arms bound behind his back. He wasn't expecting the commander to come all this way.
Ian runs his tongue along his teeth, feeling them all there, but he tastes blood and he can feel more on his face. They broke his nose. It's been a while since that's happened. There's a concrete floor beneath his bare feet, and the ceiling looks low. They've probably taken him to a warehouse somewhere. There are men hanging around, and he sees Yuri on the ground, coughing.
He's missing an eye.
"Comrade," Molokhov says, and Ian glances at him, wincing at the sudden movement. His head is spinning. "It's good you're finally awake."
"Commander," Ian begins, and Molokhov gives Yuri a firm kick to the ribs.
Ian watches Yuri cough once more, and tries again.
"Commander, I am sorry. I'm sorry I failed you."
Molokhov steps toward him, grabbing his chin to tilt his face up to his.
"Your father would be appalled by your negligence. In all the years we worked together, he never made so many mistakes as you."
"I can repair this," Ian says, and Molokhov's jaw ticks.
"How?"
"I'll kill her. I'll make it right," Ian says, trying his hardest to keep his tone level. Yuri keeps coughing and groaning on the floor.
"Back in the good old days," Molokhov says, as he drops Ian's chin and steps back. "We were more to the point. Cyanide capsules, for instance."
"She disobeyed me," Ian says.
Molokhov glowers at him. "You little shit! How dare you imply that my programming was inefficient!"
"I'm… not, Commander, I swear," Ian says, raising his voice over the sound of Yuri's whimpers. "I would never say such a thing. It was my fault that she was defective. But I will make it right."
He won't cry. He won't beg. If Ian dies tonight, he's not letting it be like Yuri is right now, so undignified and pathetic.
"How?" Molokhov says. He points to Yuri. "That worm says our Asset is with her."
Ian wishes he could rip of what's keeping him tied down so he can beat Yuri to death with his bare hands. He only hopes he can watch him die, along with Karl, wherever he is.
"I can activate her, and she can bring him to us. She can be like a Widow."
That would mean she seduces him, makes him trust her before Ian kills her. Molokhov pauses, thinking this over. Yuri sounds like he's crying and the commander kicks him again, hard.
Yuri is murmuring something and Molokhov leans closer, straining to hear.
"Speak up."
"Just… kill me."
"Not yet," murmurs the commander, his face morphing to serene. "Not until we break every bone."
"Please –"
Molokhov nods to one of the guards standing by with a rifle and they pick Yuri up, dragging him out of the room and slamming the door. Ian can hear him start to scream.
"That'll be you, Comrade, if you can't bring her back to me," Molokhov says, wiping his hands with a handkerchief he pulls out from his coat pocket.
Ian nods, hearing Yuri crying out in the distance for his mother. Ian's mother is dead, so he would never sob over her saving him.
"Ian," Molokhov adds, and his eyes snap up to his.
The commander looks him over, assessing the blood. He purses his lips.
"Just because you are your father's son, it doesn't mean I'll take pity on you. I'll keep you alive long enough for you to lose your mind over the pain, the impossible things I can do to your body. Of course, you know Zola."
Ian nods.
"Zola's methods were always a bit… soft, I thought," Molokhov murmurs, a hand going to push the hair out of Ian's face. He shrugs. "I'm more creative."
Ian tries to disguise the chill he feels running down his body. He bows his head.
"She's mine," Molokhov whispers. "All mine. Don't forget that."
"Yes, Commander."
It was Steve's idea. At least, that's what Bucky will say if Darcy objects to him tagging along. Steve came to Bucky right after Darcy's first training session. He took him aside as Natasha and Darcy fought on the mat.
It was all very one-sided, but that was to be expected. Darcy doesn't know how to fight properly.
"She'll need someone else, apart from Clint. Someone she relies on," Steve says, and Bucky feels his eyebrows hike.
"Not me, no," he says. "She doesn't know me."
"She likes you, doesn't she?" Steve asks, and Bucky makes an exasperated sound.
"Punk, you know you're the better choice."
Steve crosses his arms, tilting his head. "She's been spendin' more time with you… jerk."
Bucky stares him down and sighs, his eyes darting to watch Natasha throw Darcy against the mat again. Clint looks over his shoulder at them.
"Me in a safe house with her? How is that not a bad idea?"
"I've been to Clint's place before. It's very secure, and we've upgraded since with FRIDAY's network."
"Doesn't he have a wife? And kids?" Bucky says, and Steve nods.
"It'll be good for you –"
"Not my point," Bucky interrupts. "It's not safe for kids to be around me."
Steve sighs this time, glancing at Darcy. Natasha pulls her up from the floor and Darcy adjusts her ponytail when she's upright once again.
"She needs you," Steve says.
Bucky doesn't know what to say. He disagrees, but the thought of her being apart from him is somehow feels worse. He feels it in his guts, the power she has over him.
"I can trust you and Clint to do this," Steve adds.
Bucky turns his gaze to him, closing his eyes for a second to compose himself. He's ready to argue with everyone all the time about his reliability. He's barely recovered from the last few months. He can't help admitting to himself that Darcy is a distraction from the shit inside his head.
"You wanna help her?" Steve asks, his voice soft.
"Yeah," Bucky murmurs. He looks at her, and as if on cue, she turns her head to look back at him.
She smiles before going back to Natasha. She throws a punch just like Bucky taught her. Bucky looks away, thinking of last night.
"Any more news on that Mogun source?" he mutters, and Steve shakes his head.
"Natasha's gotta go see someone, in England. I'm going with her."
"Where am I going?" Darcy asks.
Jane packs her suitcase, letting Darcy borrow it because her own is still in Forensics being searched for bugs. In fact, all of Darcy's belongings are being searched and tested, so Jane bought her brand new clothes and toiletries.
"Clint said it's a couple day's drive away from here."
They're not taking a jet because it would be an immediate giveaway. All Darcy knows is that she's been eating into his vacation time, and Bucky was also assigned to be her bodyguard. Darcy watches Jane pack her a box of Pop Tarts and some peppermint tea. When they zip up the suitcase together, Darcy can see Jane's trying to hold it together and failing.
"I'll be okay," Darcy says, and Jane's throat bobs.
"I love you. I don't say it… ever. But I do," Jane whispers, and she grabs hold of Darcy, squeezing her in a tight hug. "I love you so much."
"I love you, too," Darcy says, feeling her throat start to close up.
Darcy drags her suitcase behind her, the wheels making soft whirring sounds against the tiles of the lobby. Clint's standing by wearing civilian clothes, and Bucky's got a red Henley on, a worn baseball cap on his head.
"Those are terrible disguises," Darcy says.
Clint glances at her bright red Vans, raising his eyebrows.
"You dress like my daughter."
"Okay then, Dad – where are we going?" Darcy snaps, and Bucky presses his lips together, trying not the laugh.
"Missouri."
"Oh, that's specific," Darcy throws back.
"You got any other flavors apart from sarcastic, sweetheart?" Clint says, taking her suitcase from her.
She narrows her eyes at him. "No."
"Is this your station wagon?" Darcy says to Clint as she buckles her seatbelt.
Bucky slips in the backseat, glancing around. The seat feels kind of lumpy underneath Darcy and she wriggles, making a face.
"No. This is a SHIELD piece of shit for situations like ours."
"Two jacked dudes and a twenty-seven year-old in a soccer mom car? How is that not suspicious?" Darcy says, and she opens the glove compartment, only to have Clint lean over and slam it shut.
"There's a gun in there. Leave it alone."
Darcy's eyes widen. "What?"
Clint starts the car and they back out, before speeding off out of the basement parking lot.
"It's for emergencies," Clint says, and he joins the traffic.
Darcy stares at the closed glove compartment in front of her, eyebrows furrowing.
"I hate guns."
Clint gives his head a little shake, smiling to himself. It makes Darcy want to smack him. She spots Bucky looking out the window through the rear view mirror.
"Can I put on some music?"
"I pick the music," Clint replies.
"How is that fair?"
"You're such a pain in my ass, Laura's gonna adore you."
Darcy rests her chin on her elbow, looking out the window like Bucky is.
"What does your wife think about us staying at your house?"
"I wouldn't know," Clint murmurs. "Haven't told her yet."
Darcy dozes off at one point because her lack of sleep catches up to her, and Bucky's glad she's finally resting.
The backseat doesn't have enough leg room and he feels his knees start to hurt but he's not about to kick her out of the front seat. They drive in silence while she sleeps, until they have to stop for gas.
"You want anything?" Clint asks, and Bucky nods.
"Doughnut."
"I'll get you more than one," Clint says with a chuckle, opening his door.
"Thanks."
When Clint shuts the door, Darcy stirs awake, stretching.
"Where are we?"
"Stopping for gas," Bucky murmurs.
She makes a little sound at the back of her throat as she stretches some more, looking around. She turns to look at him properly.
Bucky feels aware of the lack of space between them and he blinks at her. Her eyes are really big, but it's not like he hasn't noticed that before. There are blotches of pink on her face, and she looks sleepy. She looks soft.
He glances away.
They drive for eight hours. Darcy feels like New York was days and days away.
She starts to get used to the way Clint makes fun of her, the companionable silence they have among the three of them. She keeps catching Bucky looking at her when he thinks she doesn't notice him. Truth be told, she constantly feels him there, listens to his breath.
He sleeps at one point and he looks beautiful, the sun on his face. His long hair is pushed out of his eyes but his cap obscures the majority of Darcy's view.
Clint looks at her when she's watching Bucky in the rear view mirror.
"Go easy," he murmurs, and she raises an eyebrow at him.
"Whatever do you mean, Mister Barton?"
He wrinkles his nose. "Please don't call me that."
She chuckles, glancing back to Bucky's reflection.
"What does he remember?" she murmurs.
Clint's face falls and he concentrates on the road.
"Steve told me he remembers everything."
Poor thing. Darcy knows she's at an advantage. And yet she still wishes she knew everything.
"Why do I want to know?" Darcy murmurs.
"Nine months is a long time," Clint replies. "And time is precious."
Darcy rubs her eyes, wishing she'd fall back to sleep. She sits up straighter instead.
"Do you want a break? I can drive. I mean, it's been a while, but –"
"It's okay, we'll stop for the night soon," Clint says.
Darcy nods, glancing out the window. It's golden hour. The soft snore coming from the backseat rips her away from the landscape and she covers her mouth to stop herself from snorting.
Clint smiles, glancing at Bucky in the mirror.
The motel is about as shitty as they come, but Darcy feels the exhaustion of the past couple days seeping into her bones. A bed's a bed, and she needs one badly.
The get two rooms with two double beds. Darcy takes one room, her stomach flipping at the idea of Bucky choosing whether or not to be closer to her.
Clint takes the decision away from him, volunteering to take the other room. Darcy sees something like alarm pass over Bucky's face when Clint announces this, and Darcy's heart sinks.
Bucky dithers by the car when Darcy grabs her suitcase. She sets it down and pulls it along behind her, unlocking the door to her room with the key Clint tossed her.
She glances over her shoulder at Bucky, her eyebrows raised.
"You want to sleep in the car?"
He shakes his head, his eyes darting to her.
"So sleep on the couch in my room. Or don't. Just don't be a dick about it."
He looks confused and Darcy shoves the door with her shoulder, glancing around the little room with 70's décor, a yellowed painting of a fruit bowl on the wall opposite the bed. The couch looks tiny, and he'd have to curl up to sleep on it.
"Does it pull out?"
"What?" Bucky says, and Darcy glances at his face, seeing he's blushing, his blue eyes wide.
She smiles because she can't help herself. She realizes he doesn't understand what she means. She licks her lips.
"Uh, the couch might have a fold-out bed. A mattress."
"Right," Bucky says, clearing his throat. "Yeah, it might."
Darcy keeps smiling to herself and she opens her suitcase to get out a towel. She walks into the tiny bathroom and shuts the door behind her, giggling.
By the time they turn out the lights, Darcy's wide awake again. She stares at the ceiling for a while, then turns to her side. She flops onto her stomach. The springs of her mattress squeak really loud and she feels a little guilty, knowing Bucky's hearing is like hers.
"Can't sleep," she murmurs, sighing. It's her way of apologizing.
"Yeah, me neither," she hears him reply.
She can't put this down to chronic insomnia. She feels kind of suffocated by him being this close. She knows if Clint was there she'd probably sleep more easily. She thinks it'd be kind of rude to ditch Bucky and wake up Clint in the process of taking out the fold-out bed in his room.
Darcy sighs, sitting up. She turns on the lamp and watches Bucky sit up on the couch, blinking at her.
"Wanna watch TV?" she asks, and Bucky stares at her.
"Uh, yeah. Sure."
Her eyes dip. He's not wearing a shirt. He must have taken it off when she turned off the light. She feels herself blush at the sight of him and presses her lips together, going to grab the remote for the TV.
She can't help herself – she keeps glancing at him while they watch a couple episodes of MASH. At least, Darcy's pretty sure it's MASH, but the picture is really fuzzy. The motel doesn't have cable.
Bucky's sheet goes up to his middle and Darcy can see the contours of his muscles, the full heft of him much more obvious without all those clothes in the way. Darcy knows she's not that much more covered. Her tank top Jane bought her is thin and doesn't stay down properly. Darcy thinks her boss either was ignorant of Darcy's big-boob issues or it was part of a devious plan.
Bucky looks at her twice – once to tell her yes, he'd like to watch TV with her, and then a second time. He does a double-take and Darcy feels a burst of something close to pride.
She pictures asking him to join her under the covers. She imagines it long enough to lose track of the episode of MASH, never laughing at a single joke. It's hard to not think Bucky is also sitting in stunned silence.
She pictures his arms wrapping around her, his massive shoulders rolling as he kisses her neck. She bites her lip as she imagines licking along his abs, nipping at him as his muscles jump under her touch.
In the corner of her eye, Bucky moves in his seated position and Darcy dares to glimpse at him for a microsecond. His hand goes under the sheet for a second before he brings it back up again, rubbing his neck.
Is it crazy to think he's adjusting himself? Darcy thinks of the ways to phrase her proposal.
Hey, Sarge. Want help with that?
You bothered, baby? Come over here.
Come over here and fuck my brains out.
She sighs, settling down once more. She closes her eyes, trying to push all of those stupid plans away. Most likely he's here as a favour to Steve. He's probably to make amends for his past by doing little jobs like this one.
She pretends to fall asleep. She listens to the show end and she hears Bucky get up from the couch and pad over to her.
He picks up the remote and turns off the TV. She keeps her breathing steady, opens her mouth slightly. She waits for him to move away.
He puts the remote back down, switching off the light.
"Darcy."
He's checking to see if she's asleep. She keeps still, trying to not react. She waits a few more seconds before he sighs.
"Come on, man."
Why does he say that to himself? Darcy feels her stomach flipping like crazy, her heartbeat picking up.
He walks back to the couch, slipping under the covers.
When Bucky wakes the next morning, he knows he's already hard. He didn't dream but he kept thinking about Darcy while he tried to sleep last night. He knows the cause of his aching dick.
It feels wrong. She's vulnerable. He's meant to be looking after her, and this isn't the way to do it. Last night when he saw the outline of her nipples in her little top he knew he was doomed. He was picturing her heavy, soft tits all night, wondering what they tasted like.
He squeezes his eyes shut, listening.
She's asleep. He can see her hair sticking out from under the covers. He watches the rise and fall of her breathing.
He carefully pulls back the sheet from his body and glances down, grabbing his shirt from yesterday off of the floor and covering his crotch with it. He walks swiftly to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.
He turns on the shower, pulling down his pants and boxers to see his dick is pink and leaking and he groans softly, palming it. He closes his eyes, stepping under the water and letting it run down his front.
Darcy hears him wake up, stays still as he gets up. She moves her head up at the last second to watch his retreating back.
He has a great ass. She pictures digging her nails into it, or the heel of her foot. Round and firm, jutting out like Steve's does.
It's not a crime to look.
Bucky bites his bottom lip between his teeth, gripping his dick hard. He strokes hard and slow, until Darcy's face appears in his mind.
Those bee stung lips, the way her smile reaches her eyes. He imagines pushing the straps of her top down her shoulders, kissing her neck. He'd peel it all down, cup her tits. They'd be a handful, and so fucking soft.
He groans, going for it, pressing his forehead to the tiles as he strokes faster.
He'd kiss her everywhere. Turn her over and pull down her pyjama shorts and panties, bury his face into her, grip her heart-shaped ass. Fuck, she'd feel so good. He'd want to make her scream before he filled her up good and proper, his hips smacking into that perfect ass –
"Fu-uck," he moans, and he comes hard, toes curling.
He pants, seeing spots as the water washes his load away down the drain. He stays there for a few seconds while the world comes flooding back. He sighs, before moving to wash his head.
His heart is still racing by the time he leaves the bathroom.
He doesn't say much to her for the rest of the trip. He knows it shouldn't have happened, him jerking off to her like that. It feels like a violation.
This is a girl who never did anything to deserve the pain she'd been through, and he was abusing her trust. She'd lost all agency because of HYDRA. He should know better than anyone what that felt like.
They get to Missouri and take a shortcut through some backroads. Clint seems to loosen up, so Bucky figures they're close.
When they park the car, Bucky can see toys in the yard, the farmhouse in the background. He sees the satellite dish on the side of the house and Darcy's taking it all in, too, assessing.
The front door opens and Laura Barton stalks out. She stops in front of Clint, her hands on her hips.
"What did I say about bringing broken things home?"
Bucky glances at Darcy, who looks upset. He wants to reach out and touch her hand, to comfort her.
A second passes and Clint says:
"I guess that's one way of getting rid of me," he says.
Laura laughs, bringing him into a kiss.