"I can't do it."
Darcy glances up from her phone to find Bucky outside her door. She's returning from the office to get ready for her Friday night date with Greg. It's the third one, and she's gearing up to break things off before it goes any further.
"Can't do what?"
"This date." He's wearing sweatpants and a ragged t-shirt, and the glow on his skin suggests he's come straight from the gym. He runs his flesh hand through his hair, which has curled at the ends while damp. "I'm not ready."
Darcy unlocks the door and gestures him inside. She's got half an hour to get changed, and this is going to eat into her eyeliner time. She could call Nat in as a reinforcement, but Nat would be too heavy-handed, too blunt. "What makes you think you're not ready?"
"I don't know her," he says. "I don't even know the name of this girl! I don't know if she knows who she's agreed to go on a date with and what her reaction to me will be. I can't remember what dating's like or what I'm supposed to do—I should never have agreed to this."
Darcy guides him to the sofa and sits on the pouffe she usually uses as a footstool, right in his eyeline. "First of all, I know Nat has checked this girl out thoroughly, and she's probably sought Sam's approval too. No way either of them would be sending you out there if they didn't think you could handle it. Second, you're in this with Steve and he is terrible with women. All you have to do is not be as bad as him."
Bucky huffs out a laugh. "So I just keep my mouth shut and let him do all the talking?"
"Something like that. If you need to, tell embarrassing stories about him. They'll love it."
He gives a shaky sigh. "I don't know. I've barely left the facility except for missions. The idea of the outside world freaks me out a little."
"Hmm." Maybe a date wasn't the best place to start with that. "This is only meant to be a casual thing. Just think of it as spending time with friends, or potential friends. Take the pressure off. You're going to the movies, right? Don't pick anything with lots of violence. You want a comedy, something that will make you relax. And remember, Steve's going to be with you. He knows how to calm you down."
He stares down at his left hand. "What if she thinks I'm a freak?" He's got it fisted up tight again, though some of the plates are shifting in his agitation.
She reaches over and grabs his hand, tugging until it loosens so she can weave her fingers through his. "Then you tell her to fuck off and you come home."
"You say it likes it's so easy. People can't help how they react to me, not when they know what I've done."
"It is so easy. You think Steve's going to hang around when someone's treating you like crap? If she can't take you at face value, then she's not worth your time." She finishes with a firm head nod. "You and Stevie just go enjoy your film, get some grub, then come home and kick ass at pool. Sam's got his eye on the grand prize and I am not about to let him have it."
She rises, ready to guide him back out so she can start getting changed, but he stays sitting, still holding onto her hand.
"It'd be easier with you."
She's glad that's he still staring at their hands, his hair covering his face. It means he can't see her panicked, flustered reaction. She peels her fingers away. "Go have fun, Bucky," she replies gently when the panic has passed. "Take a few hours with your best friend away from everything this place represents and enjoy it."
He gets to his feet without looking at her. "Will you be here when we get back?"
She glances at her phone, wondering if Greg will even see her cancellation message before he arrives to pick her up. "Yeah, I'll be here."
She heads to the common room, hoping to find Jane, but is intercepted by Nat. "Steve's asked me to monitor the date. He's worried that Rumlow's still out there and might try and make a move if they leave the facility. You've used the monitoring equipment more than I have."
It's true, but Nat is a tech whizz. She doesn't actually need help. She wants Darcy to watch the date unfold, for reasons unknown. Darcy doubts she will like the reasons.
They head to the control room, which is empty apart from the few staff members who are on the night shift. They monitor the feeds of undercover agents and put out the call for more cover when something urgent comes up. It's not as a bad a shift as it sounds, because it's normally quiet enough you can watch TV and eat takeout, all while getting paid extra for unsociable hours. It's Sunday afternoons when the unexpected shit usually hits the fan, and nobody's sure why.
Darcy's usual station is empty, so they head to that. She logs in and homes in on Bucky's tracking device, while Nat pulls up a free chair and straddles it backwards. Darcy selects the surveillance feeds she wants and opens them up.
Steve and Bucky are meeting their dates at the cinema rather than picking them up, even though they'll all be traveling to and from the facility. Steve's choice, apparently. They're at a smaller three-screen cinema several towns away, rather than the multiplex in the closest town, and they haven't booked tickets. Darcy hacks into the cameras covering the cinema's foyer where the men wait, then does a sweep of the surrounding area. There's not much high ground for snipers, or cover for people to hide out in the open, which is probably why Steve picked it. She checks for people waiting in cars too, but there's no sign of anyone loitering.
"All clear so far," Darcy murmurs, bringing the foyer back to the main screen. From this angle the men have their backs to her. She recognizes the tension in Bucky's body all the same, even in Steve, who's obviously talking a mile a minute to a quiet Bucky. They're dressed casually, in jeans and jackets, though Bucky has a glove covering his left hand.
The women approach, and Darcy doesn't know either of them, though it's easy to recognize the look of the appreciation the one on the left gives Bucky. She speaks and he dips his head in acknowledgment. She smiles at his response, and the group head towards the counter to purchase tickets and snacks. Bucky's hands are in his pockets and he seems to be letting Steve do most of the talking.
"Rewind it to when she spoke," Nat instructs, so Darcy does. Nat leans across and zooms the picture in until they have a larger, if grainy, view of Bucky's date's mouth. She watches, then shakes her head. "Okay, definitely not his words."
"You can lip read?" Nat just looks sideways at her. "Of course you can lip read."
There's no camera in the theater itself, so they settle in to watch the surrounding area. It's a fairly boring task, though Darcy's on edge anyway. She doesn't think it has anything to do with Rumlow or Hydra. Not only do Stark Enterprises ensure that no one else has access to the surveillance cameras between the facility and the nearest highway, so there's no way of tracking vehicles leaving the place, but the only people who know about the date are in the Avengers' circle of trust, or the girls themselves. The chances Nat hasn't been monitoring all their communications, internal and external, since the date was set up are about the same as Darcy winning an Olympic medal for fencing. (No one is ever going to be stupid enough to hand her a sword).
She pulls up a couple of episodes of Brooklyn Nine-Nine on the central screen instead, subtitles on so they don't distract anyone else who's working, and settles in to wait for the group to emerge. Her fidgeting clearly annoys Nat, but Darcy's still not sure why she's here anyway. Nat could probably access all the footage on her Starkpad, hacking into the surveillance cameras for shits and giggles.
The movie finally finishes and people begin filing out, but Bucky and Steve are the very last ones to leave, and the foyer is empty when they emerge. She catches a glimpse of Bucky's face, and he's sharing a joke with his date, an easy smile gracing his face. She has her hand on his forearm, the touch light but accepted.
The date isn't his soulmate, they've established that. So why does this hurt so much?
She turns to Nat. "You're making me watch this—" she gestures to the friendly intimacy "—on purpose."
"Took you long enough to figure out."
"What did I ever do to you?"
Nat fixes her with that I-see-everything-I-know-everything stare. "You wanted this. One way or the other, you're going to have to face it. I thought it would be a good idea to show you what you'll be forcing yourself to deal with up front, so you can back out now."
Darcy swallows, looks at the group on the screen. Bucky's body language has relaxed considerably. He looks happy, his smile broad and lovely. She's never seen him smile like this with another person who wasn't Steve. It's like there's a spinning ball of metal shards inside her, hitting all her tender spots.
"Might as well get used to it." Maybe in time she'll grow immune to the feeling.
Nat doesn't return to the common room with her, but Jane and Helen are there, relaxing with a bottle of wine. Darcy gratefully grabs a glass and slumps onto the sofa.
"That good, huh?" Helen asks. She's aware of the soulmate/not-soulmate mess, but not of current events.
"You don't know the half of it," Jane says.
"Maybe Helen can be my new sounding board, since Nat has turned evil. You're a responsible adult, aren't you Helen? You regularly make sound, rational decisions."
Jane makes a sound of protest in the background—probably at being implicitly ruled out as a responsible adult—while Helen pulls a face. "I'm mostly faking it. Sorry Darcy."
"Maybe this isn't the best place to take about it," Jane points out, and Darcy nods in agreement.
She knows he's coming before she hears a sound, and how she does is beyond her understanding. But she's alert, and then a few moments later there's the sound of boots stomping down the corridor.
"We got shawarma!" Steve calls out, entering the room with several take-out bags.
"What the hell, Rogers?" Darcy replies. "I bring you quality food and you return with this abomination?"
"I told him," Bucky says, and holds up his own bag. "I made him get donuts too."
"You are my hero!" He grins, and she decides nothing else matters. If he's happy, she's happy. He showered and shaved between leaving her apartment and heading out with Steve, so his jaw is stubble-free for once, and it makes him appear younger than usual. It is also gives her an unfettered view of his jawline and cheekbones, which is appreciated but not helpful.
For some peculiar reason, the shawarma is bypassed entirely in favor of the donuts and Steve is left to eat it all himself. "If you don't finish it tonight, throw it out," Helen suggests. "I don't think it would do even your digestive system much good if it's reheated tomorrow."
"I thought you all liked it," he mutters.
"We ate it because it was the only place open," Barton says. He appeared at the same time the food did. "Everywhere else had been reduced to rubble, remember?"
"So how'd it go?" Darcy asks.
Bucky shares a look with Steve and they both shrug. "It was fun," Steve says. "But I don't think we'll be seeing them again."
"You know Nat's going to try and introduce you to everyone in the facility until someone sticks."
"She can try. What about you—didn't you go out with Greg tonight?"
Bucky pauses mid-chew to look at her.
"Nah, he had to cancel," she lies smoothly. "Same time next week, though. What movie did you watch?"
When the donuts are gone and it's time to turn in, Bucky offers to walk her back to her quarters. She doesn't bother making excuses for him not to, sensing this is probably going to be a continuation of their earlier conversation.
"I told you that you were ready," she says, nudging him with her elbow as they walk. "What was she like?"
He chews his lip, pondering his answer. "Sweet. And pretty, I suppose."
"Ouch. Don't ever let her hear you say that."
"In fairness, I don't think I was what she was looking for either."
"Ah, well. Plenty more fish in the sea."
"Yeah. Maybe."
"Or you could bypass the whole dating process. Just keep introducing yourself to people and see if your words come up. That's what people used to do, isn't it? Minimum effort, maximum result."
He pulls a face, and she can't read it beyond frustration. "I don't know. Nat's pushing us to find someone, but I think it's for Steve's benefit more than mine. I'm not ready for anything serious. Hell, I may never be ready. I know I have words, but I hope the universe holds off until I'm in a better place before inflicting me on some poor, unsuspecting soul who—"
"Hey!" She rounds on him, cutting him off. "You listen to me, and you listen to me good. Whoever's going to say your words will be lucky to have you, and they better be ready to take care of you. We've all got our problems, some more than most, but that's the point of a soulmate. You're the best person for each other, no matter what. So if I catch you talking like this again, we'll be having words, you hear?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Don't you start that shit, either. But if it helps, I'll have a word with Nat and get her to back off. We'll let destiny take it's course."
"Thanks."
"You can still go out and do things outside the facility. There's a bowling alley, a climbing wall, even a karaoke bar."
He shudders at the last suggestion. "I'm good. It was nice to feel normal for a few hours, but that's not me anymore. I know I can't stay here forever, but I feel safe here, and I'm going to enjoy it while I can."
They're at her door. She bids him goodnight and goes inside, then shuts the door and leans on it. She bashes her head against it a few times for good measure.
Everything she's tried has been an utter failure. She's pretty sure he's got the message loud and clear that she's off-limits as anything more than a friend, but beyond that she kept sliding down the rabbit hole until she went into free-fall. Her days revolve around him and a good portion of her nights too; she cares about whether he's happy more than she cares about whether she's happy herself, even when it hurts. She's got every moment of bodily contact they've ever had etched in her memory and just the sound of his voice makes her smile. And his smile, that pure, brilliant grin that lights him up from the inside, she can use that as a shield against the world, wrapping its warmth around herself when it all gets too much.
It's no longer a matter of trying not to fall for him. It's far too late for that.