Darcy had been walking down the street in Manhattan, carrying a bag filled with popcorn and junk food for movie night with the group, along with two coffees: one heavily sugared caramel drink that probably had more milk than coffee in it for Jane, and one plain iced coffee for herself. She liked junk food as much as the next person, but coffee was special. Something to be savored for its savoriness. You had to appreciate a good coffee like you would a fine wine. And besides, Darcy would rather eat her calories opposed to drinking them.
She had taken a sip of hers and smiled indulgently - it was going to be the best night. She'd brightened just thinking about it. Darcy always looked forward to group movie night each week. They took turns choosing a film each week.
Jane had always been the easiest when trying to choose because she had no preference or opinion in what they watched. She literally didn't care. The popcorn excited her more than what they were watching. She could see a movie three times and it would be a brand new movie the fourth time for her again. Films never held her attention, her mind drifting to science. Of course, that meant every twenty minutes or so she'd tune back in and ask "Who's that," and "Why are they doing that," annoying the rest of the group. The worst was when she started picking apart the science in a movie. Bruce would join in, of course, and the two of them would get in the way as they pointed at the screen and hypothesised how it could be possible.
Why are they doing this?
Darcy would give Jane her best displeased frown because she'd been trying to watch the movie, to which Jane couldn't even be bothered to care about, and then Tony would look up from whatever he'd been working on on his Starkphone and start joining in on the space-time continuum conversation and what they would need to build in order to actually make a machine that would go through a wormhole. Good GOD, it annoyed Darcy to no end. They'd keep at it until Clint would start hitting them square in the forehead with popcorn, one followed by another, until Natasha would join in. That always made Tony declare war and somehow the movie would magically get paused while the group got into a popcorn fighting war, hiding behind couches and ducking behind pillars. This went on until everyone was completely out of popcorn, at which point Clint would look around sadly and say, "Aww, popcorn, no…"
Natasha would shun Jane and Tony out of the room, leaving Bruce alone because, well…you know. Bruce would quiet down immediately, unpause the movie for everyone, and turn on Tony's cute little StarkVac to clean up the mess while everyone else piled back on the couches to finish the film.
In Darcy's opinion, the movie made complete scientific sense. She felt sad that Jane and Tony just couldn't appreciate fictional science; in her mind, it didn't matter. Science changed so fast - just look at the people sharing the couch! - that maybe it'd be true enough tomorrow.
Well, Jane and Tony, she supposed, would know. And Bruce. And Thor. Although Thor always remained silent when Jane and Tony (and Bruce) would get into what was fact and what was fiction and what could be and what was impossible. He'd watch with wise eyes and a small smirk, giving nothing away and never allowing them the opportunity to ask. The movies always held his attention, and he marvelled at every one, calling them truly, uniquely, human.
Steve was working through all of the Oscar winners for best picture from each year since he'd been in the ice. He looked at movie night as more self-education on the 70 years he'd missed. He usually took notes during the movie and then held a briefing following the movie, asking questions like, "what cultural influences went into this picture ," and, "what kind of other pictures did this director make?"
"We call 'em movies now, Cap," Tony would cut in, enjoying the blush that crept up Steve's cheeks.
His face got so warm when he blushed.
Remember warm?
Natasha preferred foreign films with subtitles, despite Clint's constant shit-talking commentary, in which he claimed she didn't even need the subtitles on because she speaks all the languages. No one was ever exactly sure if he was serious, and Natasha didn't give an inch on whether he was correct or not. Clint actually pleaded once that they turn the subtitles off and simply make up their own dialogue. Natasha had actually been offended, but the rest of the team had fallen over laughing trying to guess the plot and dialogue. Darcy had loved that night. She lived for that shit. Easily why Clint was one of her most favorite people.
Clint, weirdly enough, loved old westerns, and didn't care that everyone groaned when it was his turn to choose. They could all quote several John Wayne movies now, and found themselves doing so in spite of their complaints about the genre. The best consequence of his terrible taste in entertainment was the rest of the week taking on a cowboy theme. They had breakfast shootouts with their Nerf guns over the last packet of pop-tarts, which soon devolved into all-out war, and by the end of the week everyone was wearing cowboy hats and drinking moonshine. No matter how many times Pepper found and decommissioned the still, there was always more moonshine.
Bruce favoured documentaries, where they were all wound up learning something. Tony didn't mind these; sometimes he'd be struck by inspiration, and Bruce would make the team pause the commentary while he and Tony worked out the details of how to make something work and put a plan in action. And sometimes, the documentary had to be paused so Steve could stomp around or take a run, like when they watched the one about the Great Pacific Garbage Patch, and he became so impassioned and angry that he literally could not sit still on a couch even if they all sat on him.
Tony's action movies always had lots of things constantly exploding, including the main hero. Somehow they always pulled through in the end, even as the group collectively tore those plots to shreds and critiqued every unbelievable move and ridiculous fight scene. Natasha and Clint had even reenacted some, falling over in giggles at the impossibility of them.
It had been Thor's turn to choose that week, and Darcy always found his choice in movies hysterical. He had a thing for romantic ones, claiming they helped him to better understand his relationship with Jane. That had Darcy rolling her eyes, because seriously, Jane was hardly the epitome of feminine wiles and romantic leading ladies. Darcy felt it her duty to point out problematic tropes, and Thor would argue that plays and players are there for idealised stereotypes and not realism, debating art imitating life and vice versa, comparing the cultural differences between both Asgardian and Midgardian drama. He had chosen The Notebook last time, and Jane had given him tissues throughout the entire movie, the big sap. They'd gone through the entire box together. Such a big, powerful guy, who melted at kiss scenes in rom-coms. And then he'd taken Jane outside (and everyone else followed), made it rain, and reenacted the most amazing kiss scene a movie has ever had. It was hot. Darcy wasn't remotely afraid to voice her jealousy, looking over at Steve and winking as he stuffed his hands in his pockets and fought to keep his face neutral.
Bucky hadn't paid any attention to Thor and Jane, or Steve, or anybody really. His attention was focused on the sky, the cracks of lightning followed by the grumbling, growing, booming of thunder. He was fascinated by Thor's power to make it rain. Darcy often forgot how much he loved being outdoors. His normal scowl wouldn't look happy, per se, but an air of peace settled over his whole body when he looked up at an endless blue summer sky. Moments like this worked too, even with the sky covered in clouds, only the moon showing through now and then to light the rain as it fell down over them.
Shivering, freezing...the rough wet towel on skin...water pouring down, every breath choked off...
Please Thor, please!
Tony could never make it beyond the first tear rolling down Thor's cheek. He'd get up, grumbling, and wander off to top up his adult beverage before heading down to the garage or workshop. Pepper would sigh, and eventually unfold her long elegant legs to follow him. Even with his own film choices, he just couldn't sit still. His leg twitched and rocked, fingers strummed against his it. Pepper would always lovingly cover his hand with hers, and his face would soften, and he would stop twitching and focus on her lovingly for a long moment before jumping up to refill his drink, offering one to everyone around him. Pepper would just sigh, with a slightly exasperated, small grin on her face.
Come to think of it, though, Darcy had yet to see Tony finish a movie period. Huh. She would have to work on that. Bribe him somehow, maybe. Or tie him down. Ha. He'd love that. Darcy smirked to herself. But, no… best leave that kind of thing to Pepper.
Tied up, held down, don't move don't think. Just do as you're told, Pet.
Clint and Natasha always waited for them to leave before moving from their chosen place on the floor to the comfort of the now-empty couch. Clint leaned against Natasha, arm draped over her, always pulling her in close, somehow cuddling like a couple, when they couldn't be farther from it. Natasha even rubbed her fingers through Clint's hair and neck, and Darcy always liked to watch Clint come down from his on-edge persona to almost purring in contentment and relaxation from Natasha's touch. He really was just a big cat. Darcy had wondered if she should invest in one of those laser pointers that cats enjoyed so much. Clint would probably love trying to hit the laser targets with his arrows. Darcy knew she'd at least get a kick out of it.
Sometimes Thor and Jane chose the floor as well, which was perfect for Darcy, who could then watch them adoringly without them knowing. Last week, she had squinted down at Jane's hair. Had she even showered that week? The piece of blueberry poptart stuck in her hair pointed towards a great big 'nope'.
That could have been from breakfast or dinner, possibly even from yesterday or the day before; when she was in full SCIENCE mode, she only ate what was easily grabbable and most of the time processed, unhealthy junk. .
When Jane turned to the side, Darcy had seen dark circles the size of New Mexico under her eyes. They must have been hidden by the goggles she wore in the lab; she'd had them on 24/7 while looking into that new laser doohicky machine thing she'd made last week. What it was for, Darcy had no idea, but they'd apparently been essential if she didn't want to go blind helping Jane tear apart the laser-y innards of the thing and duct taping it into a better configuration. So, no sleep, no shower, no dietary balance.
Darcy's work was cut out for her.
Cuts down her side, blood running down slow and thick as molasses. They scream another question at her, and when she has no answers they give the knife another turn
Darcy had confronted her about it post-movie, and made her promise to eat something from a major food group at each meal. It wasn't hard; one threat of home-baked spinach poptarts was enough to have Jane laughing, but falling in line. Bringing the obscenely sugary pop-tarts was one thing, but she wasn't about to have someone she loved fainting or becoming ill from her inability to prioritize body functional needs over SCIENCE.
Jane was just lucky Thor didn't seem to mind the love of his life being a bit feral, Darcy mused. He just looked into her eyes, smitten, and pulled her in for huge, man-handling and often inappropriate groping-esque cuddles. Luckily, Jane was singled out for those specific romantic cuddles.
Thor was the second BEST cuddler, even Darcy had to admit. She could prove it, she had the data; a list of rankings, updated weekly, and posted to her fridge with a huge yellow duckling magnet. In any other home she could have been accused of calling attention to the list by securing it under such a brightly coloured and distinctive tchotchke, but her apartment was full of equally gaudy decor. It was a little Museum Of Darcy, full of history and memory and her home.
When she had moved every six months, following poorly paid internships around the country until Jane recognized her excellence and latched on permanently, she had carried the duckling with her. And now home was here, her other exhibits finally unpacked and even added to. The hug rankings list might even become a permanent addition to the collection. She read it when she was alone and needed to feel the comfort Thor offered so readily. Warm like the air before a summer thunderstorm, his thick, strong arms were as talented at holding his family gently as they were smashing in the faces of his enemies.
Darcy had watched him kiss the top of Jane's head, frown slightly, and lick his lips. She'd smirked at that; apparently all you had to do to baffle a god was make yourself taste like blueberries.
Darcy secretly loved Pepper's choice of movie nights the best. Pepper had a thing for Disney movies, and Darcy always encouraged everyone to sing along with every song. Tony refused to participate, and Steve tried, bless him, but he couldn't carry a tune if his shield depended on it. Darcy always had a soft spot for old movies from the 40s and 50s, specifically and particularly, musicals. They made her think of her grandmother, in a happy/sad nostalgic sort of way.
Steve, of course, enjoyed them immensely, which she should have expected. It was nice to share that with him. She'd tried to reciprocate his inquiries about modern films by asking questions about what it was like to go to the 'pictures' when he was a kid, but he'd been weirdly reluctant. He was happy enough to talk about the films, but not the life of the Steve who had watched them. In fact, he was almost strategically evasive about any questions directed specifically to his past, or Bucky's.
She wasn't the type to push when she knew how serious someone was about not talking about certain things. So she knew when to stop when he started only answering certain parts of her questionings, and not the entirety of them, if they had to do specifically with his life back then.
Those movies usually drew even Bucky's attention to the screen instead of the wall. There wouldn't be much of a reaction, usually crossed ankles and arms. But when Darcy's questioning turned towards things "back then," he would shuffle closer to Steve, not leaning on him, but somehow offering or taking bodily support the more Steve stiffened under Darcy's unassuming inquiries. Of course, as soon as Darcy read Steve's body language and the fact that not only she noticed, but Bucky as well, her dialogue would reach an abrupt stop and she'd grab a huge handful of popcorn, shove it in her mouth, and focus back on the movie - even if she'd stop mid-question. Steve, nor Bucky, ever commented on it, but Steve would relax slowly, inch by inch, if Darcy's focus remained off of his former life. Bucky wouldn't move away from Steve until the movie ended and they would all go back to their quarters. This was always the saddest part of the night for Darcy, as she loved the group gatherings and always hated going back to her rooms alone, when it seemed most of the others had someone with them to go home with.
Alone here in this cell. Alone for so long. No one is coming for her.
Bruce always sat near the group, often at the kitchen table with a book. Never quite with the group - always a step or seat away. He claimed he couldn't focus on just one form of entertainment at a time. She watched his attention drift from the page to the screen, absorbing the current scene before turning back to the text. Darcy was glad he tried to be social, but it was obvious from his fidgeting that he just couldn't just relax and be for an evening. Still, she appreciated his presence and efforts. She always made sure he had a bowl of popcorn on the table, along with a fresh mug of hot tea. He would always smile gratefully, and waved the mug in her direction. She'd raise her hot chocolate mug in response, and they'd each go back to their different distractions.
At first glance, on the first movie night, Steve had been the obvious choice to sit with. Alone and stiff, his outward presence mirrored her inward feelings of loneliness, and therefore, he became her mission to share in the feeling. Perhaps they could help each other feel a little bit less alone.
After several movie nights, she had gained the confidence to scoot closer and closer to him, watching closely for the "eyebrow of disapproval" she was desperate to avoid. When she finally closed the distance between them he made no comment, silently sinking down to offer her his shoulder to lean on, arm raised to wrap around her. His movements seemed almost automatic, which was ridiculous because they'd never done this before! The movements were almost subconscious, like someone in the habit of letting a puppy paw its way up into their lap when they's already zoned out - not that she was comparing herself to a dog, he was lucky to have such an amazing cuddler on movie night, you're welcome, Steve, - but she knew he would have politely turned her down if he hadn't been open to it. Thor may hug the best, but Steve quickly established himself as the best to cuddle with, and soon enough she found herself not even wanting to sit next to anyone else.
The first few times he'd been welcoming but stiff - out of practice, probably - but he grew gradually warmer with each passing week. She bit her tongue to stop from making a joke about him defrosting. God, the thought was tacky enough and she'd berated her own brain from thinking it. She was funny, but she wasn't goddamned cruel.
His smile always looked at least a little bit concerned, briefly stiffening in discomfort when she started arranging his limbs to her liking before settling properly into the couch. She was careful to hold back while he worked through whatever was worrying him, and was only truly satisfied when she felt the tension drain out of him. An arm over her shoulder, the other resting on her waist as she shimmied up to his warmth. Those nights, when she felt the most alone, or had had the shittiest day, or Janie had blown something up and ruined yet another of Darcy's favorite sweaters or boots, or yet again, date night was a non-existent thing in her life. Truly, when was she supposed to leave and go find men to date?
That little pause before he started to relax broke her heart every time, and she hoped every time that he would stay relaxed from the outset. He'd already pleasantly surprised her by reciprocating her cuddle, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and hugging her! Voluntarily!
He'd even taken to rubbing her shoulder or neck, pausing only when the movie distracted him, and only resuming when she wiggled against him demandingly. Last week she'd even achieved a proper half-spoon cuddle position, her head tucked under his chin resting against his broad, perfect chest, his arm wrapped around, holding her close, as if she somehow belonged there. She carefully didn't question that feeling. His deep, even, solid breaths raising and lowering in a soothing rhythmic pattern against her ear were as close to comfort as she'd ever felt. He made her feel safe, wrapped up like this.
She often wondered if he in turn felt the comfort she was trying to give. She knew how it felt to be alone. Not as alone as he must feel, but she'd had pieces of her heart chipped away by unpreventable tragedies., Every one of them knew what it was to lose, and to be lost. Even if none of them said so out loud, she knew a family when she saw one. Blood ties are one thing, but choosing to build a family again after their kind of loss was another entirely.
Bucky hadn't come to every movie night. He'd only joined them for a handful so far. For some reason on this one random evening, Jane had decided she wanted to watch a dinosaur movie, which Darcy hadn't questioned because everyone knew dinosaurs were the best of all awesome things.
What she did question was Jane's taste in dinosaur movies. Darcy was fighting hard for Jurassic Park. The original - a classic! Steven Spielburg at his best! And Steve would love it! She was pretty sure Bucky would enjoy it as well. Maybe. He was hard to read, but maybe his frowny face would be a little less… frowny. Maybe it would even captivate his attention for once… rather than his mulling at the wall.
He just needed some motivation. Some encouragement. Like DINOSAURS.
Jane, however, must have been feeling nostalgic or something wackadoo was going on in her brain, because her demanding choice had been The Land Before Time. She announced it proudly with a huge, toothy grin.
What.
What even.
The Land Before Time.
Opposed to Jurassic Park?
What in the ever-loving fuck, Jane? How was this even a discussion?
The Land before Time was also a classic, as Jane had argued. Darcy conceded, but really, truly? Jane couldn't be serious. As Steve's first dinosaur movie?
"Think of the old men, Jane!"
Bucky scowled in her general direction. Tony huffed. Bruce sipped his tea, ignoring all of them.
Steve watched them volley back and forth with a sardonic smile on his face, enjoying the discussion (aka ARGUMENT) between Jane and Darcy. Enjoying it as if he had no preference between the two movies whatsoever and could enjoy the evening simply by watching the two fight between which dinosaur movie was a better fit for the group.
Darcy demanded Jurassic Park.
Jane demanded The Land Before Time.
Battle lines were drawn. In a final plea for help, she looked to Tony for backup. Tony's eyes rolled upwards to the ceiling, as if pleading with a deity to just end him now. Darcy huffed. How could he not even care? Also if he needed a deity's help, there was one right there in the room with them. Asking for help from another god was just rude.
Darcy chose to accept the eyeroll as an agreement with her against The Land Before Fucking Time. She waved her hands at him, distracting him from the ceiling, looking to him for some kind of help. Any help. Anything at all. This was the man who never fucking shut up. His drink was refilled and he settled down, fiddling with his Starkphone, ignoring them all completely. Ugh, useless! It was infuriating.
"I'm fine with either," Steve announced amicably. Bucky rolled his eyes; Darcy narrowed her at him. Had he been around to see either? Could it be possible that he'd already seen Jurassic Park? He stared back as she assessed him, giving nothing away. She doubted Hydra would wake him up, have him do some killing, and then let him sit in the back of a theatre with popcorn to enjoy a movie before wiping him again. That wasn't possible, right? She frowned at him. He blinked back at her.
And then, interrupting Darcy's inner musings, Clint did the unthinkable: he sided with Jane.
What a fucking asshat.
"Traitor," she hissed.
"I like the animation," Clint defended.
"What the HELL, Barton?" Darcy yelled. Jane crossed her arms, a smirk upon her smirky face.
Oh my God, she was never getting another pop-tart so long as she lived, so help her God.
Herempty stomach cramps, but when she begs, he says whores don't deserve food.
The other one says he'll give her something to eat. They laugh.
Next time she gets desperate enough to beg, she'll bite off her tongue rather than speak.
Steve had perked up, though. "Animation?" He enjoyed Disney movies way too much for Darcy's liking. Again with Bucky eye rolling at Steve. This time he also received a huff of annoyance.
"But tree star, Darcy!" Jane had argued.
"Tree Star!" Clint echoed, enthusiastically!
"Tree Star?" Steve sounded mystified but intrigued. Tony and Bucky shared a dark look. "What's a tree star?" he asked, enthusiastically.
Darcy had waved him off, not allowing him to participate in this battle. This was between her and Jane. Facing Jane, she countered with, "Jane!" She began ticking off her fingers with each statement. "God creates dinosaurs. God destroys dinosaurs. God creates man. Man destroys God. Man creates dinosaurs…"
"Ugh, that is a good line," Jane conceded, sounding slightly conflicted. "Maybe Jurassic Park would be a better choice…"
"Exactly!" Darcy grinned. They high fived. Victory! Jurassic Park for the win!
Pepper had then ruined everything by saying as she settled down next to Tony, weaving her arms through his, pushing his phone aside as she laid a tired head on his shoulder and said softly, "I haven't seen The Land Before Time since I was a kid."
Tony's expression was equal parts horror and defeat. He glanced ruefully at Darcy. "Sorry, kid." Behind his apparent devastation was something both soft and fierce; she'd bet her paycheck he was elated to find a simple and immediate way to care for his intimidatingly competent partner. It had to be all too easy to overlook Pepper having needs of her own; she made everything look effortless. Here in the embrace of her family, she could relax. It was hard to stay pouty, looking at the smile it put on Pepper's face when Tony tossed back his drink, waved a hand in the air, and through a mouthful of ice-cubes demanded, "JARVIS, roll it."
"As you wish, Sir."
Bucky had stared at the ceiling, a look of unease crossing his handsome features. Steve pulled his arm away from Darcy to set it on Bucky's shoulder. He didn't shrug it off.
Interesting.
And The Land Before Time began playing. Ugh. This was the worst, not that she was about to upset Pepper by saying so. Jane pumped her arm, relishing her win, and Darcy flopped on the couch sulking. She'd technically won, convincing Jane to switch sides, and she still hadn't gotten what she'd wanted.
At least there was a mouth-watering snack bar on the kitchen island behind them that Darcy had put together herself. There was a LOT to choose from, and she didn't hesitate in making grabby hands at everything within her reach and stuffing it in her mouth as she settled to a movie night of misery.
Things had been going pretty well, and Steve was blown away by the animation. "Puh-lease, Steve. This was like, 30 years ago or something. Wait till we introduce you to Avatar or Pixar. Oh my God, you guys," she squealed. "We are so doing a Pixar marathon next week!"
They all nodded enthusiastically, and rightly so. Darcy settled back into Steve's embrace, inching her feet again towards stoic Bucky.
Everything was going okay until the scene where Littlefoot's mom heroically died to save him. That scene never seemed to cut too deep when she'd been a kid, but had a room full of superhuman adults suddenly blinking very hard.
Steve had frozen beside her, muscles tensed like steel cables. His breath quickened and he shut his eyes as if unable to bear what he was seeing, desperate to block it out. Darcy had reached a hand over to him, to try and comfort him - even to slow his breathing down slightly, it had worried her hugely. He wrenched away from her, not hard enough to hurt her, but she caught on quickly he didn't want to be touched. He actually looked conflicted to stay in the room, even, his body poised to bolt. His usual healthy skin color had now paled to a sickly gray and Darcy worried he might actually be sick. She didn't know what was going on.
The next minute as the scene ended, after a fast and narrowed, furious glance at Steve, Bucky suddenly stood up and stormed out of the room. His usual stride was pretty stormy anyway, but the noisy tread of his boots as he departed was impossible to mistake. When a normally-silent assassin stomps loudly away, they're sending a message.
What even.
It had everyone's heads turned now, watching them instead of the film.
Steve, unable to move yet, had sat stock-still for a long moment, taking purposeful deep breaths, eyes clenched closed. Darcy could feel his heart thumping quickly even sitting as far away from him as she was. What was going on?
Carefully opening his eyes, he'd glanced around the room in discernable horror as he realized that all eyes were on him now instead of the movie, Steve had disentangled himself from the couch to go stumbling after Bucky. He glanced back at her, apologetic, and then humiliatingly as he glanced around the room again, noticing all eyes on him as he was about to leave the room. She nodded reassuringly at him until he turned away again, shoving his hands deep down into the front pockets of his jeans, shuffling out of the room after Bucky.
She was completely puzzled. Why jump up so quickly, if he was going to walk out slowly?
The group had looked at one another, all frowning in confusion. Eventually they resumed the movie, but the vibe remained weird for the rest of the night.
Left alone and uncuddled for the remainder of the movie, Darcy had definitely eaten their share of popcorn as well as her own.
The ghost of that flavour, throat stinging as her mouth tries to water. The memory tastes like nobody holding her.
.
Bucky clearly didn't like being around everyone all at once; more than a few times he had slipped away from any event that even half-filled a room with people. This had felt different; not the ache of general discomfort, but the sharp jolt of a cruel blow on a fresh wound. And Steve, displaying actual emotions other than patriotism in front of everyone? Darcy had been smart enough to not ask about anything specific, but nosy enough to want to know.
The available choices left to do now were initiating an awkward conversation or pretending nothing had happened. Neither sounded great, but at the next movie night, the first time she had actually laid eyes on Bucky again all week, since he'd disappeared after stomping out the previous week, she opted for spectacularly ignoring the whole thing.
Besides, at present both boys were looking distinctly uncomfortable, and there was something majorly off between the two. They were sitting closely together as per usual, but instead of relaxed, both seemed to be sitting ramrod straight, eyes looking everywhere but at each other. They were putting off major passive aggressive/silent argument vibes. She didn't know what it was, but she was determined to plant herself right between them until the uncomfortable waves they were giving off went away. This was movie night. Happy time.
They obviously needed some guidance.
So, instead of sitting on the opposite side of Steve from Bucky, which she had done more often than she'd sat between them, she'd chosen to plonk herself smack down between them. Darcy being Darcy, carved out a space between their delightfully warm and gloriously muscled bodies, wiggling and shuffling until they'd shifted further apart to make room for her, taking a deep relaxing breath as their warmth coated her body like an electric blanket.
She doesn't remember what it feels like to be warm.
They had always sat closer together than most men did these days, Darcy noted. Every time she saw them together, they were always knee to knee, hip to hip. Maybe it was a 40s thing. Perhaps it was something more. It was hard to be completely sure, but she had this feeling about them, something she could sense even without seeing them sit like they were glued together.
She watched them. And she suspected they knew she watched them, but never made a move to show that they knew, or a move towards each other in front of her. She had yet to catch on to anything more than platonic friendship from either of them. They didn't speak about it, they certainly didn't PDA. The normal eye wouldn't notice anything present at all.
But she could read between the lines. She knew there was something there, something they were keeping to themselves. She wasn't sure how deep down the rabbit hole the two of them were together, but they were together. Together, together. They had to be.
But they kept it close to the chest, whatever it was between them. By modern standards it could pass for brotherly friendship, which made sense. They only had each other way back when, and the shared experience of being jolted from your time, your life, wasn't something easily understood. Getting separated from everyone you've ever known and loved, and then finding the one person who went through sort of the same thing? No wonder they held on so tightly to each other, even when they didn't touch at all.
Darcy had heard rumours; a security guard claimed to have seen them on the roof one night in a very compromising position, and had been given some workplace training and an NDA to stop them talking about it ever again. Even without rumours, without knowing their history, she'd have recognised the dance of a couple almost as scared of being together as they were of being alone.
Well, they weren't going to make any progress on their own. Whenever possible, she made the deliberate choice to insert herself between them, forcing them apart to see if she could break the tension and connect them.
Of course Steve made a show of protesting when she arranged herself in a prime cuddling position, as though she could have done any such thing without him allowing it. Shucking off her shoes, she tucked her feet up as well, leaving her shins lightly pressed against Bucky's thigh. She looked over to check that he had enough space to move away if he wanted to. He did, but her surreptitious glance also caught a strong but unidentifiable emotion written across his face.
It was like seeing a word in bold letters, italics, and all caps, in a language she didn't understand. It was important, obviously, but she had no idea if it was anger, jealousy, sadness, or something else altogether. He'd caught her looking, and from the way his eyes then flicked up to Steve, she guessed Steve was looking at his reaction too. The chest beneath her hitched in what could have been a suppressed sob - but that couldn't be right, she must have imagined that -and his arm pulled her towards him until her legs were no longer touching Bucky. He gathered her up close to him, clinging a bit more than holding her, very unlike his normal movie-night cuddle. It was as if she was a teddy bear he was clinging to, refusing to glance again back at Bucky as he stared resolutely at the screen, his face taught, his shoulders tense, his back straight.
Bucky, on the other hand, actually relaxed as soon as her leg had left him, as if touching him had hurt him in some way, or just the general vibe that in this moment, he really didn't want to be touched. It hadn't been enough for him to actually just move, or shove her away, or even scowl at her, but the message was clear; no touchies.
She felt uncomfortable, despite Steve holding her so close. He was shaking, very minutely, and she couldn't tell if it was from hurt or suppressed anger. It was almost as if touching her, holding her was something he both needed and wanted, but also hurt to do so. She wondered if she should just forget her plan of distracting them from whatever was going on between them and simply use the excuse of getting fresh popcorn to get up, move, and somehow sit somewhere else. She didn't know what to do.
Steve's arms around her tightened minutely, and so she decided he needed her rather than wanting her away for now, so she stayed, focusing on breathing slowly, in and out, so that neither super soldier could guess at her discomfort.
The next time she looked back at Bucky, it felt like Steve's sadness had leached into her. Bucky looked so lost. The rims of his eyes were red, as if he had cried, or was about to cry, but there were no tears. She didn't know what to do.
What was going on? What had happened?
She ached to reach out to him, to bring him comfort the way she could everyone else. To figure out what he needed to smile, or at least stop looking so deeply and untouchably sad. But it was obvious he didn't really want to be on the couch next to them, very obvious he didn't want to be talked to, or touched. He was just there, uncomfortable, hurt possibly, angry.
She didn't really know what was going on between the two, but she hoped they'd sort it quickly as it hurt her to see them acting so strangely towards one another. She knew enough to know it most likely wasn't her getting in between them - yeah right, as if - in her most imaginative of dreams - but she couldn't imagine what had gone on behind closed doors.
She knew she could be a lot at times and had really made the effort to hold the reins on her personality in efforts to not scare Bucky away. She'd had more time with Steve, or rather, he'd had more time with getting used to her. Tamping down her brash mouthiness in favour of being calm and patient and gentle around him was hard work, it took major effort at times, but she was sure it would be worth it.
When it became clear more effort would be required, she'd baked cookies and left them at his door, or printed silly cat photos and taped them in his locker. She'd left one of her favorite books laying on his gym bag for him with a handwritten note saying "READ ME," and she'd even written down a list of songs she thought he'd like. It required quite a big Post-It, which she proudly stuck to his metal arm as they passed one another in the kitchen, and she told him to ask JARVIS about Spotify. Bucky had the cutest confused face, which she knew because she had glanced back at him before leaving, winking at him as she walked away.
She'd whistled the rest of that day.
She'd even found and bought him the new blue baseball hat he was currently wearing and had gifted to him after she'd seen him running outside with Steve the other day.
Bucky's hair had been out of control in the wind and she'd watched with great amusement as he struggled to tie it up one handed until he'd called out to Steve and made Steve try to tie it up for him. Steve had taken the hair tie and frowned at it; surely the scientists who'd chosen him for the serum experiment couldn't have predicted he would be defeated by elasticated hair restraints. Darcy giggled at the thought, and at the sight of Steve concentrating, Bucky miming, and the two of them failing to tie up his windblown brunette locks..
After they had admitted defeat she'd watched Bucky take a deep breath and bodily sag against Steve for a long moment, Bucky's back against Steve's chest, head bowed and shoulders hunched, letting Steve hold his weight for a long space of time.
It had looked like a motion both new and old.
Before the serum, Steve would have been the default little spoon, she presumed, but Steve and Bucky had become friends in a time when men hugging was not the taboo it was now. It seemed like Steve welcomed the closeness, and then an instant later he was ready to flee. His hands hovered over Bucky's shoulders, like to actually touch him might burn his palms. Bucky must have felt the tension, the hesitance, or both, because he tipped his weight forward and stood up straight, stepping away. Steve's arms fell back to his sides, and his head hung down a little in defeat. Without another word Buck resumed his jogging, heading off on the route - it was different every day, Nat had told her, because predictability gets spies killed - like the awkward moment had never happened.
Steve watched him go, running quickly far ahead as Steve stayed, frozen where he stood. He had looked weirdly...relieved, watching Bucky get further away. That was a puzzle for Darcy.. Why would Steve be relieved to see Bucky go, especially after a moment of trust rarely given? Steve had obviously needed that touch, and yet looked like he had been unable to accept or return it. Another mystery.
Watching Steve finally jog after Bucky had inspired her to do something to help quell the sadness she felt. In possibly her quickest shopping trip ever, she'd picked out the simple blue hat, trying not to overthink colors. That was tricky when shopping for a costumed hero... Or an awakened, abused POW from the 1940s. Talk about Christmas gifting hell.
She'd delivered the hat to the doorknob of Steve and Bucky's apartment, with a small note attached that said, "For Bucky, to help discourage the nuisance that is wind when running."
She'd spotted him the next morning wearing the blue hat on his morning jog. She'd seen him adjusting it more than once, slightly fidgety, shoulders a bit hunched as he glanced around suspiciously, as he got used to the feel of the new ballcap and fit it to his liking. Once, during one of Steve and Bucky's few breaks (as if they even needed it, but they breathed heavily, bent over - hands on knees, and gulped water like they were actually winded…) she couldn't help but wonder if it was for show because even she, as nosy as she was, hadn't found any proof of if they'd even been scientifically tested to their limits... He had glanced up, somehow super-ninja spy knowing and recognizing or maybe even feeling someone was watching him (because of course, she was), to glance up and find her peeking at him from a bridge that crossed over their running track.
She definitely wasn't there just to watch them! And no one could say differently! It was just a nice spot to drink coffee. So what if she enjoyed this particular part of the view at this specific time in the morning?
The eep that escaped her at having been caught watching was not very spy-like, verging on the ultimate of dorkiness. She'd ducked down out of sight. When she thought enough time had passed for them to have moved on, she slowly peeked down again only to see him standing absolutely and completely still, bathed in the golden sunlight like a non-nude (such a shame); a sweaty greek god come to life.
He was holding absolutely still, waiting and looking up at her, watching her steadily, unable to hide a tiny, gorgeous smirk upon his face.
Oh Thor, how she blushed.
Smirk now gone but eyes twinkling as he watched her make a complete middle-school fan girl of herself, he'd brought his hand up, then, to the brim of the hat and tipped it at her in a very old-fashioned gesture of thanks. Embarrassment melting away, she had smiled back, warmed that he had accepted the gesture and even seemed to enjoy it. His eyes stayed trained on her for a long moment before he turned back to Steve, and the two of them set off again.
He had worn the blue hat to movie night.
While Bucky headed straight for the TV room, Steve, following close behind Bucky as they entered the room, made a beeline for the bar covered in snacks. Instead of his focus remaining solely on the food there, and usually snacking as he worked on piling food on his plate, he was curiously and suspiciously glancing back and forth between Darcy and Bucky's new hat.
When she saw Bucky wearing the hat, Darcy did an internal dance of joy. She was lounged like a goddess on the couch, holding a hoard of snacks in her lap and wrapped from head to toe in layers of comfy sweaters. She was even wearing her new bright red toboggan and scarf, made during her and Jane's knitting phase last autumn.
She smirked at Steve, catching his eyes once and narrowing her own suspiciously back at him, because everyone knew by now that if they didn't arrive before Steve to movie night, they didn't enjoy snacks at movie night. She wasn't sure if it was food mentality during depression and war times, or simply a supersoldier's need for all the calories. Bucky didn't seem to have the same appetite; she hadn't seen him eat more than a few bites of popcorn at a time. Almost as if he wasn't quite used to food being openly available, or if he was allowed it.
In the old photos she had surreptitiously sought from the library and Google, they were both skinny, though Bucky less so as the photos got closer to wartime. They had looked so youthful and carefree, ready for all the possibilities the world had in store for them. Well. Maybe not every possibility. She'd never gone hungry, she'd never had to do without. Not like the two of them. Steve had told her once that you didn't miss something you never had.
Hunger - true hunger - is pain. She knows that now. Among all her other pains, it is uniquely distinct and terrible. When it hurts the worst, she recognises it as the absence of what she'd once had.
Remembering is an escape, and a hell.
With Steve arriving late, everyone else had already come by and grabbed their favorites, knowing he would finish off whatever remained when he got there.
He'd glanced back at her briefly as he sunk down next to her, relaxing into the couch next to her like he hadn't quite done so in the past. He crossed his arms and got… well, as comfortable as she'd ever seen Bucky be in a public setting, but as per usual, he focused again on a spot on the wall instead of the movie screen. But he had slouched down on the couch this time, actively sitting next to her, which she called a major step of improvement.
He was getting used to her.
Little by little, feeling a bit braver than normal, she'd decided to inch her cozy sock covered feet towards Bucky and his blue hat throughout the movie. Never quite touching, but refusing to distance herself from him just because he was sitting there being all closed off.
He had tipped his hat at her in thanks after all, like one of those romantic cowboys from Clint's western movies and it had warmed her heart. He hadn't smiled, but it felt like he had. Darcy placed him firmly in the 'friend' category. He had worn her hat, eaten her cookies, and psychically smiled at her, and he was just going to have to let her cuddle him a bit.
But he didn't react to her feet inching towards him. Didn't move away, even when her toes brushed against his jeans. He stared absently in the direction of the tv without quite watching it, eyebrows furrowing in the frown he wore by default. Steve looked over; Darcy could tell by the brushing of his chin against her head, and noticed her feet inching towards Bucky's, but this time he didn't make a move to pull Darcy away from him. Darcy wasn't bothered that Bucky showed no reaction to her touching him. This was progress. He saw her, he felt her feet against his leg - she was sure of it, and he would come around to her in time.
What time is it?
How long has it been?
Please let this end soon.
She remembered she had tripped on a crack in the pavement, and stumbled forward a bit. Her coffee and Jane's had splashed on her hand, burning her fingers, and she'd sucked in breath. Somewhere in this slow motion event, someone reached out and knocked the bag out of her hands. As she turned towards her bag in confusion, another someone reached over her from behind and covered her mouth with a large hand, and she heard rather than felt a hard, loud crack; if it was a taser, it was one more vicious than hers. She felt a sudden and bright pain, and then there was nothing.
Darkness.