Resolution by Matt Corby
- from Darcy's iPod
xii.
THEN.
Darcy doesn't know how she's feeling those days. All she knew was that she was damn tired of everything. She hadn't been this consistently tired since finals at college, and she wasn't eating then.
She spent too much time seeing Bucky, she knew that. It meant she was away in Washington at least three times a week, mostly with Steve in tow, sitting in a sullen kind of silence whenever they borrowed Tony's jet.
Steve was good at not talking about how he was, especially when they first went together, just the two of them, a few days after Darcy was kicked out of SHIELD because she screamed at Fury.
Steve watched the clouds go by as they made their ascent, and Darcy leaned forward with her elbows on her knees and her head propped up by one hand.
They didn't talk a lot.
Steve opened doors for her. Darcy would nod a silent thankyou back at him, keeping close as they walked along the long corridors of SHIELD to the facility Bucky was still being kept in.
He got a cot, some books on a table with a chair, a really nice pillow (which Darcy specifically fought for), and a separate little room for a shower and toilet.
It wasn't an especially dignified living situation, but Darcy could see how this was a lot better than the original setup.
Bucky also wasn't handcuffed anymore.
The second they were let into Bucky's quarters, Steve's whole face lit up. It was like watching time being turned back. He became a boy again.
"Buck," he said, giving his best friend a fierce hug. "Hey."
"Hey," Bucky echoed, staring at Darcy over Steve's shoulder. "She's here, too."
She has a name, Darcy wanted to say, but let it go.
Darcy and Bucky sat at the table together while Steve leaned against the wall watching them. Darcy flipped open a folder she brought and uncapped her pen.
"SHIELD said I could come here as long as I made myself useful."
"Well, I'm grateful you came, Darcy," Bucky said, and for the first time he reached out to touch her hand, making Darcy pause.
There was a twinkle in his eye that gave her the impression he was laying the charm on thick. She saw Steve in the corner of her eye chuckle softly and shake his head.
Apparently this wasn't surprising behaviour.
"Okay, well –"
Darcy moved her hand away so she could write on her note paper.
"We have blanks to fill."
"Natasha could only give us so much," Steve added.
Bucky stiffened, suddenly serious again and curling in on himself like he wanted to hide. He sighed.
"I already told the doctors, I can't remember."
"Maybe I can help," Darcy said softly, trying to look him in the eye and failing to succeed.
He kept looking at Steve with a kind of silent pleading.
"Punk, this ain't fair."
"I know it ain't."
Bucky finally looked back at her, studying her face. "Sweetheart."
"Don't sweetheart me," she countered.
She wrote several dates on the paper, all spanning decades apart. She tapped the paper to indicate the first date, 1969.
Bucky sighed. "Eddison. Three guys. I strangled them."
Darcy faltered, her pen slipping. "Right."
"You asked."
"Yeah, I did."
Darcy wrote down his words verbatim. They did this four more times, all of the different dates, all the different ways he killed his targets in vague yet gory details.
The final one, Bucky opened his mouth but didn't speak for nearly a whole minute. His eyes were glued to her, the same pained expression on his face.
"Kiev. A man. A…woman. Shot him. Decapitated her."
"Jesus Christ," Steve breathed from his spot by the wall. "Bucky."
"I was out of bullets," Bucky managed to add, his voice rough with emotion. "Uh, it was messy."
Darcy wrote it down anyway.
"Sometimes I can smell the blood."
The wrapped up things later than expected. They were allowed to stay overnight. Darcy was too tired to argue, too tired to get back on the jet just yet.
The second she and Steve were alone, as he followed her to her dorm, he sucked in a strangled breath and started to shake, and then doubled over in tears, his face buried in Darcy's hair. All she could do was hold him, and try her hardest not to cry, too – but it came at her like a knife in the gut because the force of Steve's sobs were causing her to shake along with him.
When Steve finally re-emerged, his eyes red-rimmed and his cheeks blotchy, he gave her an apologetic stroke of her cheek.
"Sorry, I got your shirt all wet."
"It's okay," Darcy squeaked, giving her face big swipes with her hands. "Steve, it's going to be okay."
They didn't know that, but it was all Darcy could think of to say.
Steve sat on her bed and sniffled. "I don't want to alone right now."
"Me neither."
The truth was, she wished Bruce was there so she could fuck these feelings away. Maybe in between sobs she'd manage to become distracted and forget Bucky for a few blissful seconds. She also knew that was probably futile.
"Stay here," she added. "We can watch a movie."
"Okay," Steve mumbled. His voice sounded so small.
They watched The Wizard of Oz. Darcy did the bad thing and didn't eat. She didn't feel like looking after herself. She made sure Steve got everything he needed instead, and he was too distracted to notice her only picking at a potato chip that she eventually set aside.
The weeks began to melt into one another. Steve and Darcy visited Bucky, and sometimes it wasn't so traumatic, but mostly it was painful and Darcy kept moping around the Tower whenever they returned to New York, listening to too much Jeff Buckley at night and not paying too much attention to work.
Things were becoming frayed at the edges. Steve was quicker to snap at Tony, and Tony resented the companionship Steve and Darcy had together.
They were thankful for his private jet, but he still felt ignored. Bruce was better at pretending he was fine with the arrangement, until Darcy fainted at work.
"Noooooope, I'm done. Nope," he snapped, and scooped her up from the floor by her desk, as Darcy came to.
"Bruce! Put me down!"
He carried her to the elevator and awkwardly pushed the button with his elbow.
"You're going to rest."
"I'm fine! Put me –"
Darcy struggled, but Bruce kept her steady with a strength she had no idea he possessed.
"—down! I can stand."
"Darcy, please listen to me."
He was looking down into her eyes, the light of the elevator making his silver-brown hair glow from above.
"You're too nice. You need to stop helping everyone else so much and help yourself."
"Fucking – excuse me?! Who was the one who lived in Calcutta during a cholera outbreak?"
He finally set her on her two feet, but kept a grip on her arm. "That's different."
"How is that any different?" Darcy snapped, just as the doors opened to reveal Bruce's floor.
Darcy stopped mid-step, realising where they were.
"You don't have any food in your refrigerator," Bruce answered her silent question, eyebrows hiking. "You can't live off pickles."
Darcy followed him with reluctance. She didn't want to fight so she didn't argue anymore.
Bruce set her down on the couch and pulled up their shared Netflix queue. Ten minutes later, he brought her a grilled cheese sandwich and a glass of orange juice.
She snuggled up to him, his arm around her as she almost on his lap. The TV played forgotten in the background as she planted open-mouthed kisses on his neck, her nails scraping his chest that peaked out from underneath his shirt.
"Just promise me you'll look after yourself," Bruce muttered, sounding like he was close to losing the tight grip of his restraint from touching her back. "Please."
Darcy moved her head back up and gave him a short kiss without closing her eyes.
"Okay. I promise."
Bruce was suddenly on her, pressing her into the couch, his mouth slanting over hers. He groaned as she did his favourite thing – she grazed her teeth on his bottom lip with her fingers in his hair, pulling him down harder to meet her.
He moved his kisses down to her neck, before shoving her shirt up to expose her stomach, which he peppered again with his lips, and Darcy knew what was going to happen next.
She lifted her hips up as he pulled off her underwear. Next, he threw her legs over his shoulders before pressing a kiss to her mound, making Darcy jump a little. Just his hot breath between her legs was making her mouth water and pussy clench with anticipation.
It was like he was trying to kiss her down there like he did with her mouth – not really focusing on her clit but just licking her inner lips and occasionally sucking one a little, making Darcy gasp. Darcy couldn't stop her hips rolling once his tongue was inside her.
"Fuck," she hissed, her chest heaving. She was close even after a few seconds. It shouldn't be this easy. It was crazy to her how good Bruce was with his mouth.
"Are you gonna come?"
Darcy knew if she'd look at him now she'd give a loud, embarrassing whimper of an answer back, but she couldn't help herself and looked down at him, and the site of him was a consuming portrait of tenderness she couldn't handle.
She wasn't prepared for this. His eyes were glowing, most of his face obscured by her skirt shucked up around her hips.
"Please, Bruce. I wanna come so bad. Please, please…"
Bruce obliged, pushing two fingers inside her with ease. He leant over and sucked on her clit, making her whole body feel like she was burning up with the sensation. She gasped again just before she came, her whole body shuddering.
Bruce pressed lazy kisses on her thigh, hugging it to him and looked up at her. He gave a sheepish smile as he stroked her leg.
"Come here," Darcy said, motioning for him to join her further up the couch.
As Bruce sat up, Darcy's fingers were on his fly in a flash, unfastening him and kissing him hard.
Bruce moaned the second her hand ran over the bulge of him inside his slacks, cupping him and rubbing while Bruce dominated her mouth with his tongue.
"I'm gonna come too fast if you keep doing that," he warned between kisses, and Darcy gave a giggle. "Bad girl."
Darcy just about purred at that, freeing his cock from his boxer briefs by pushing them down. Her hand settled on him again, stroking lightly until Bruce's hand wrapped around her wrist to steady her.
"Want to fuck you," he muttered through gritted teeth. It was amazing how he could be reduced to so few words when Darcy got him in the right mood.
"Oh, really?" Darcy gave a cheeky quirk of her lips. "So fuck me."
Bruce shoved her onto her back, and managed to wrestle out of his pants and pull off his own underwear. He pulled off his shirt without bothering to unbutton it completely, and settled over her again, pulling her hips toward him.
"Gonna – fucking –"
He tugged a leg up so her foot was by his head, and lined himself up. He shoved inside her and made a choked kind of sound as he bottomed out.
"Gonna make a mess of you," he growled, pulling out slightly to shove back into her, hard.
Darcy's revelled in the delicious snap of his hips. "Yes."
It was just the right side of hurt. She felt stretched but grew used to the angle as Bruce kissed her again, all tongue and teeth and desperate.
Darcy thought maybe his moaning was enough to send her over the edge until he started talking again.
"Drive me crazy," he muttered, starting to speed up the more Darcy whined. "I want you all the time."
"You have me," she breathed, and Bruce faltered, his hips losing their rhythm.
His eyes were shining in the afternoon sun as he gazed down at her, and then he bent down to kiss her left tit, making a little love bite bloom on her pale skin by her areola.
Darcy thought maybe it was a fluke - his face was just a reflection of the overwhelming sensations, but his words were only tender now. She couldn't deny the look on his face.
"Come for me again, Darcy," he whispered, and Darcy felt his hand go between them and pressing onto her clit, and her breath hitched again.
He was slamming into her with the same vigour as before, all the more heightened as he kissed her softly, achingly gentle.
"Come for me, please. Please."
"Oh, fuck!"
Darcy came on a sob, knowing the mess she had already made in anticipation all the worse now.
Bruce didn't hesitate and rearranged her legs so they wrapped around his waist as he was practically fucking her into the couch, the springs creaking in time with his moans that grew louder.
Darcy moaned in his ear and it set him off – it almost felt like he could crush her but he gave a stifled whimper into Darcy's hair as he pulled her flush to his hip and shook with his own orgasm.
Bruce looked exhausted but satisfied when he moved back a little to look Darcy in the eye again, still inside her. They both groaned as he pulled out, pressing a kiss to Darcy's sweaty forehead.
"Shower," Bruce said, offering Darcy a hand.
She had trouble walking a little and had even more trouble staying upright as Bruce went down on her again under the water, kneeling below her. He gripped her ass to stop her from tipping over. He kept looking over at her when he thought she wasn't looking.
They climbed into his bed, naked and wrapped in each other. It took only a couple minutes of kissing before Bruce nuzzled into her shoulder, his thumb rubbing her nipple and squeezing her tit.
"Again?" Darcy chuckled, and Bruce nodded, a little bashful. "What's got into you?"
Bruce's refractory period felt like it was a little shorter than most people. He thought it was maybe because it was the Other Guy, but they both agreed the Hulk was most likely asexual. Bruce admitted he was like this before the gamma radiation.
"I'm insatiable," Bruce whispered in her ear. "Come here."
They lay on their sides as Bruce pressed into her from behind, and Darcy still felt a little worn out from before so she guided Bruce to a comfortable speed, her hand on his hip behind her, the other hand wrapped around his and pressed to her heart.
He pulled her face back and kissed her hard, moaning as her tongue ran across his teeth out of clumsiness, and not so much passion, but it gave the desired effect.
Darcy didn't come but she didn't mind – she just enjoyed the sounds Bruce made, and even felt the throb of him inside her as he came hard and suddenly.
He slipped out of her and kissed her bare shoulders, sighing contentedly.
Darcy got up to pee and check the time. The afternoon seemed to get away from them but it wasn't like JARVIS was asking after them on Tony's behalf.
Bruce watched her as she returned, one elbow propping up his head. She got into bed and mirrored him, smiling.
"I've got something to tell you," said Bruce.
Darcy tilted her head. "What is it?"
"I love you."
Darcy's smile faltered, and she blinked at him. She immediately felt her heart beat faster, and she moved closer to him, stroking his hair.
"You love me?"
"I think I always have," he said, and kissed her wrist lightly.
They stared at one another in silence for a while before either of them spoke. Darcy didn't know what to say, except that she loved him back. She knew that without a doubt.
"I know it's probably not the best timing," Bruce muttered. "Post-sex, I mean. But I didn't want to wait."
He watched her as she huffed a breath, a disbelieving kind of sigh and she felt a smile creep up again despite her tears. Or because of them.
"I love you too, Bruce. God, I love you so much."
There was a skip in Bruce's step for days to come, barely able to contain his desire most hours of the day. Sometimes they snuck away to find somewhere to fuck only to be interrupted by JARVIS. It wouldn't stop Bruce from giving her suggestive looks whenever possible.
After several months of commuting to Washington and back, Darcy finally felt things were falling into place. Then two things blew the illusion of routine completely apart.
The first was someone breaking Bucky out of SHIELD once they'd managed to brainwash them. They were a Hydra-sympathiser who'd managed to nestle into SHIELD without detection for nearly eight years before triggering Bucky and escaping with him.
Apparently Hydra wanted what was theirs back, but the agent who freed him didn't quite work the logistics through.
There was a kind of Mexican stand-off between Bucky and some loyal SHIELD operatives just outside the SHIELD headquarters. Bucky couldn't get to a helicopter while agents covered him. The agent that turned him was left dead somewhere in between all this, and Darcy never heard exactly who killed the traitor.
This happened of course when Darcy and Steve weren't there, and Darcy felt guilty as hell about it even though she knew there was nothing she could do to stop Bucky.
Tony, Steve, Natasha, Clint and Bruce were all off like a shot, leaving Darcy alone in the Tower, the guilt eating away at her as each hour crawled by.
She felt like she'd pushed Bucky too hard. Maybe they should have stopped asking so many disturbing questions. Maybe it was easier to probe his mind because he was in a more vulnerable state due to stress she'd caused.
She thought of his smile and how quickly it could fade and was overpowered by her own sobs.
The second thing that happened was that her father died.
