It was so weird.

His hand was hot in hers, not sweating, but hot. It made her palm wet but only because her body was so used to bony fingers and lack of circulation, and a part of her brain registered as being really touchy feely with not-Steve. She was leaning against his side for non-verbal support, but he was so significantly bigger than her, it was hard to get used to.

If she didn't occasionally look at his face, she felt like she was cheating.

He squeezed her fingers gently, raised her knuckles to his mouth, pressing a tiny kiss on the back of her hand. Peggy, watching, smiled and put her eyes down.

Darcy just shifted in her seat, looking forward.

They'd lost the serum. She was going to be forever useless. How the hell would she match up to Steve - who could now, apparently chase speeding cars on foot and vault fences in one bound and pull car doors off of hinges? If Steve was a super solider, what the hell did that make her?

Steve bumped her with his very large shoulder and she determinedly did not flinch.

"Whatcha thinkin'?"

"Not a lot. Just, kinda here."

His mouth smiled but the rest of him did not.

"Mr. Stark said you had a bit of a panic."

"That wasn't panic." she swallowed, hard, kept her eyes on the ground. "That was shock. S'... S'lotta blood, Steve."

He twitched.

"I just-" he said, then stopped, and looked at her. "I'm here, sweetheart. Whatever you need."

"Just you." she murmured, but she meant her Steve, the Steve she knew, little and wheezy with that cough that played up when he was cold and didn't have to crack her neck to kiss. "I only need you."

He pressed another hot kiss against her wrist and let her do her thinking, all of it in the same vein as: "I'm going to be useless," and "I want my Steve back."

It wasn't that the new Steve was any kind of bad - clearly he was aces, all better from his multitude of ailments, huzzah - but she hadn't considered how different it would be. Not that he wasn't nice to look at, but Steve had always been nice to look at, with his pretty bird bones and fine features, and long, long eyelashes.

They mighta been a lil' mismatched - Darcy was a lot wider than him in certain areas and she had her mother's bold nose and chin, along with her father's thick, loud mouth, where Steve was soft and nice. Steve didn't look soft, or nice anymore, he looked like he'd spent half his life putting the workhorses to shame with those shoulders. So yeah, mighta been a little mismatched before, what with all the physical differences, but now?

They were mismatched even worse, like she'd traded in her little artist for the human triangle beside her.

She couldn't be bitter about it, when it had probably saved his life. And given him all the chances in the world to do what he wanted to do - to fight, to stand up for people and back it up. Not just with his black and white sense of right and wrong, but with the arms, too.

Bullies respected arms more'n words, funnily.

When they arrived at their new, temporary lodgings, Steve was swept in for measurements and she was cast aside after a long once over and for the first time in her life, deemed 'too square'. For a long series of hours she waited outside, feet up on the bench, staring between her knees with her hands clasped together. She tried not to remember the slick feel of blood in the creases, and rubbed them repeatedly on borrowed trousers.

Dr. Erskine had little friends, and she was thinking of his funeral, and how she wished she knew more about flowers, when a pair of shiny shoes strolled past her vision and a very nice cologne filled her nose.

"You've been sitting here for hours." Howard said, a touch amused under all the concern. "Somethin' fun to look at?"

"Not so much." she glanced up at him, then back down.

"Yeah, I know that face. That's a thinkin' face." he mused. "Why don't you give it a break before you hurt yourself and get a drink, doll?"

"What, because I'm a girl a little thinkin' is gonna hurt me?" She aimed her sneer at him, but he was shaking his head, smile small and kinda sad.

"Hurt yourself," he repeated, and tapped his chest. Darcy felt her sneer fall off her face.

"Sorry. I'm sorry, Mr. Stark, it's just... It's just that, I guess I'm used to..."

"I know." He shrugged. "Now. Come get a drink. Soothe your nerves some."

"My nerves are fine." They were shot to hell. She narrowed one eye at him, tilted her head. "That bein' said... Are you buying?"

"Already bought. Got half the United States liquor in my office." he patted her knee, wiggled his brows. "You know I get the good stuff."

"That wine." she said cheekily, suddenly having a hot memory flash of Steve, Bucky and her sat around their little counter, passing the bottle between them. She couldn't help but beam at it, remembering those feelings of home and happy like they were so far away. "The one you sent back with me when I thought over the offer. You got any?"

"I might." he mused, and grinned. "My offer still stands, you know. You can still work with me. Maybe between us we can replicate the serum and you can match up to your sweetheart, in there."

There was a burst of loud, girlish laughter, and above it, the director trying to shush the girls. She scowled in the direction, and did not squash a crawling bug with more vehemence than necessary.

"Why aren't you there, anyway?"

"I'm too square, 'ccordin' t' that fancy pants director." she muttered, looking between her knees. "I'll knock him flat if he lets those girls put hands on my man."

"Surprised you didn't knock him flat for kickin' you out. Didn't think you'd let him, actually, he's a pushover." Howard laughed, threading his thumbs under his suspenders.

"S'not about bein' tougher than a pushover." She amended. She was uncomfortable around proper dames in varying states of dress at the best of times, let alone when she was all lumps from the army and dirty hands. "Just... Don't belong in there."

"Oh, baby doll." He sighed. "He needs his eyes fixed. You ain't flat or square, you're nice, take it from someone who knows."

She didn't know how to take that, actually. She didn't have time to consider.

"Get up."

"What for?"

"We're goin' to see if your pretty fella needs saving."

"With those arms, I think he can handle himself."

"Don't be bitter, it'll give you a face like a lemon." he said, and nudged her boots with his pointy Italian shoe. "Let's go. Up and march."

She couldn't help but crack a grin, and raise a hand to push her hair back from her eyes.

"If I hadda had you for a PO, I'm fairly sure I would've loved the army a lot more."

"Are you calling me soft?" he said, mock appalled, and kicked her boot again. "I'll have you know, I've seen a day or two in combat myself. At least a day and a half."

It raised a laugh out of her, but only because she knew he wasn't messing around, he was literally in battle for a day and most of the next before he swore off it in pursuit of Science!. She got up, rubbing her numb leg, before following Howard into the tent. Steve did need rescuing, from all the wolves milling around him, wearing short skirts and socks in their bras.

To hell with being too square, she thought. At least I'm real and truly me.

She shoved through them, Howard making cooing noises that she supposed meant he was being suave.

"Ex-cuse me-!" the director said, but she lifted her hand and put it right in his face.

"You're excused." she said, rather flatly, before turning eyes up to Steve. "Going for a drink with Stark. Do you need rescuing?"

"Uhm-" he looked around at the woman with the tape measure, who had an impressive loop that looked vaguely like this size of his bicep. She waved him on, smiling good-naturedly at Darcy, who gave her a long once over and committed her face to memory as 'to be trusted'. "-Yes. Please."

"Okay." she took his hand, refusing to notice the undone buttons at his waist, the fact that he was once again, without a shirt, and turned to drag him through the masses by a hand.

The director - she was going to punch him in the cravat, at some stage, she just knew it - stepped in her way, hands flapping.

"Ex-cuse me!" he said again, with a touch of growl.

"You don't gotta ask twice, buddy, I said you're 'scused."

"We have rehearsals!" he nothing short of squarked at her. "And you're dragging the main attraction away to fraternize in a corner!"

"As opposed to what, having him gallivant without half his damn clothes on in here?" she glared at him. "You best get outta my way, honey. I ain't got time for this."

"He needs to practice, little girl, he needs to- !" if he wasn't going to speak to her like an adult, she wasn't going to behave like one, barreling on, with him grabbing at Steve's hand as they past. Howard was leaning against a dressing table, making goo-goo eyes at a chorus girl, handed her his keys on their way past.

He may or may not have shouted out something else, but she ignored it, teeth gritted. Steve caught up to her pace without any extra effort on his part, and pressed a kiss against her temple.

"Thanks." he said, and tucked his other hand across his chest, as though his nipples might be offending someone. There were only other soldiers - ones that looked at the determined set of Darcy's jaw and her stride and his naked torso and thought only one thing, cat calling and wolf whistling as she marched them on.

At that stage, Darcy felt crowded by the large solider at her side. The last thing she could think of was him on top of her.

She fumbled with the keys, finally sliding the correct one in the lock, before shoving it open with her shoulder and waiting for her fella to get his ass in the office before slamming the door shut.

Steve waited for her to turn before he took her face in his hands, lowering his mouth to hers.

It made her neck ache, to have to pitch it so far back to kiss him. He'd been 5'4, but was now 6'2, and that meant he was over a foot taller than her. It meant she'd have to invest in heels, and the thought made her sigh sadly into his mouth.

"What's wrong?" he murmured, putting their foreheads together.

"Nothin'." she said thickly, and stroked the familiar panes of his face, before stepping back, looking around the office. It was cozy - there were papers everywhere, full of designs she was very interested in reading. "Big day."

"Yeah." he put his other hand over his rib cage, rubbing self-consciously. She dragged an afghan off the back of a sofa and handed it to him with a small smile, marveling that for all his riches, Howard Stark was a fairly comfortable man.

"I was thinking," she said softly, and swallowed. "We're going to have to go to Dr. Erskine's funeral. Maybe organize somethin'. Mentioned he didn't have many friends, didn't he?"

He stiffened, half drawing the blanket to his chest, brow coming down.

"Yeah," he said, and sighed heavily, sitting on the sofa. It creaked, threatened to break under his new weight. "He did."

"And-" she grit her teeth and sat beside him, hands going to his. He wrapped his palms around hers, dropping a kiss to her knuckles, and it made her feel lost, somehow, even if the touch was meant to be grounding. "-I'm thinking about working with Howard. Taking up as his apprentice."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." she shrugged one shoulder, looked at their hands, how mis-matched they were, his paws huge as mits, and hers tiny and nearly perpetually stained by something. Today, it was blood. "Well, he's going to need to do some tests on you and, he thinks maybe we can unlock the serum together with what notes Dr. Erskine left behind and what he discussed with Howard personally. We'd still be on camp, together, you and I - cuz where you go, I'm gonna need to be. So... What do you think about that?"

"I think it's great, sweetheart." he said warmly. "But you know I wanted you to go with him in the first place."

"I know, but-" she flicked her eyes up to his face. So much the same, but so different. "-if I had've, we wouldn't be here now, would we?"

"No." he smiled, and looked at her through his lashes. "But we would've ended up in the same place, and that's gotta mean somethin', don't it?"

She smiled.

It was one of the smiles that only Steve knew; it was soft and true and honestly her, a touch feminine and a little young. Darcy had a problem with how soft she could be, something her six brothers and father made blindingly apparent was a perceived weakness. But Steve, he drew it out of her, made it safe for it to bleed through. She wasn't all thorns and snark, and Steve knew it more than anyone had ever cared to.

"Reckon it means everything." she told him, and allowed him to kiss her, hands going to frame his face.

It was easier, when he didn't use his bear sized hands on her, when she didn't have to arch her neck so much to kiss him. They were making out like a couple teenagers when Howard came in, a chorus girl under each arm, and ruined the moment with a:

"Thought I told you, there's a bed out back you could utilize?"