Prompt: "I'll be home for Christmas".
Darcy had always assumed that when Bucky returned from missions the sex would be fast, hard, demanding. She'd had fantasies of him striding into the apartment full of intent, accidentally crushing furniture between his metal fingers, fucking her up against the walls while she screamed. Imagined he'd need to work out the last of the adrenaline, to make the switch back from supersoldier to civilian, and she'd be the lucky recipient.
These are the things she'd imagined before they got together, things she'd never expected to experience as she mooned over the silent, brooding but ridiculously pretty man as he skulked around the tower.
As it turned out, there was a lot more to him than she'd ever expected. Like his quick sense of humor, his love of screwball comedies, his dancing skills, and that dirty, dirty laugh.
She'd also been very, very wrong about the post-mission sex. Not that she was anticipating it any less.
"I can't believe they're making you go to freaking Siberia on December 19th!"
"Darce, it's not like the bad guys take a Christmas break."
"Well, they should! They probably have minions who'd really like to spend the holidays with their family."
"That's the plan. We go in there, we shut this cell down, everyone gets some well-earned rest. Even the minions. Don't pout at me sweetheart, orders are orders. Steve can't show me any favoritism."
"You're just doing this so you don't have to go to dinner with my mom."
"Darcy, I swear I'm going to be home for Christmas, okay? Even if I have to arm-wrestle every member of this cell myself, I will be back in time."
"Your arm never gets tired, so that would be kind of cheating."
He frowned at her. "It's not a game of poker."
"Okay, okay. But do you solemnly swear it? You'll be back for Christmas?"
"I swear it on Stark's life."
"Not good enough. You can't stand the guy. Swear it on your trading cards."
He glared for a moment. "Fine. I swear, on my extremely rare, extremely mint condition 1930s baseball cards, that I will be home in time for Christmas. Now shut up and kiss me goodbye, I need something to keep warm out there in the snow."
But what do you know, it was five to midnight on Christmas Eve and he was nowhere to be found. Darcy had found out-via Jane, since she was higher up the food chain and got messages that Darcy didn't-that the team were on their way back. They'd been expected to land a few hours ago, and there'd been no word explaining the delay. Darcy would have been googling the value of the card collection and deciding what to spend it on, if she hadn't been so freaked out.
What if they'd been ambushed on their way home?
Three minutes to midnight, and she left her vigil by the window to raid the fridge for the last of the eggnog. There was still no sign of the team returning to the tower, and normally she'd see them arriving to land before Bucky reached their apartment. She needed nutmeggy gooeyness to soothe her.
Two minutes to midnight, and she heard the hum of the retinal scanner coming to life.
She dashed over to fling the door open without even checking the video feed to see who was outside. It was a good thing it was Bucky's arms she flung herself into.
He told her as much. "What if I'd been Rumlow?" he grumbled as he carried her back into the apartment, swinging the door shut behind them with his foot.
"He'd come through the window," she replied. "He has no manners and-"
Bucky silenced her with a kiss.
Yeah, there was no aggression in post-mission Bucky, but there was desperation, a kind of raw hunger for contact that belied the vulnerability he normally worked so hard to hide. He carried her to the table and set her down, but didn't stop kissing her, his mouth greedy over hers as he cradled her face.
"You taste like nutmeg," he murmured when he finally broke away, though his attention only shifted to the bare skin of her neck.
"Where were you?" she asked, arching her head back to give him better access.
He ignored the question, ghosting a path of barely-there kisses down towards her collarbone. She tilted her head back, knowing she'd get the answer later. For now, Bucky needed her, and she was happy to give him whatever he wanted.
"Missed you," he breathed into her neck. "You're warm...and soft." He hummed, a little sound of contentment that made her belly swoop. Happiness that couldn't be contained.
She wanted to make an off-color joke about things that weren't soft, but she'd learned that his usually ribald humor vanished in moments like this. Instead, she focussed on the scratch of his scruff as his lips moved against her, and the fact that he'd returned to her in one piece.
He wasn't wearing all of his tactical gear, meaning he'd dumped it and his weapons before coming home. She was thankful, because it meant there were fewer barriers between them. She could feel the solid weight of his torso, the lines and contours beneath his t-shirt, the movement of his muscles as he shifted.
"Bedroom?" she suggested, and he nodded, stepping back to give her space to stand. Far from having her up against the wall, on nights like these he preferred something more traditional: being above her in their bed.
He kept one of her hands clasped between his as he led her through the doorway. The room beyond was dark, only a hint of streetlight fighting its way around the edges of the window blinds, but he didn't turn the overhead light on. Instead he pulled her into him again for one of those ravenous-yet-gentle kisses.
She was on tiptoe, arms looped around his neck, her fingers curling into the loose strands of his hair. Even without the tac gear, she could smell leather, and underneath it, smoke and sweat, too faint to be off-putting.
Clothes came off slowly, fingers exploring exposed skin. Bucky still favored his original hand, though Darcy never shied away from his metal arm. It felt good, cool against her flushed skin, an inevitability of how intense Bucky had become, how intent he was on acquainting himself with every inch of her. Not like he hadn't seen all of her so many times before, but he always made it feel like this was fresh and new.
When they were naked, when she was a blushing, heated mess, he laid her down. If she didn't know him so well, she'd say he wasn't as affected by this as she was. He seemed too calm. And yet, the signs were there, and she'd learned them all. The calm was a veneer, a mask he clung onto, betrayed only by his blown pupils, the tremor of his hand, the shudder of his breath as she wrapped her legs around him.
He drew out the moment even longer, kissing her until she was panting, all of it a delay until he had the control he needed to push into her. Darcy had figured it out. The gentleness was what he needed to ground himself, to be here with her and shed the horrors he'd seen, whether hours or years past.
She tilted her hips into his and he began to move with aching slowness, his hands clenched beside her head. She encouraged him with soft lips on the skin she could reach, gentle fingertips down his back. Eye contact, blissed-out smiles, muted sounds of pleasure.
Eventually he melted into her, the tension leaving his shoulders, though he kept the leisurely pace. He was able to return her smile and unclench his fists, to twine his fingers with hers. They weren't racing towards anything, just enjoying the moment, the feeling of being connected and bare to each other. And when the time came, Darcy's orgasm was as achingly sweet as the whole thing, the sweep of a gentle ocean swell rather than a riptide.
She curled into him afterwards. "You cut it awful close. Those cards were nearly mine."
He laughed and shook his head. "Not a damn chance."
"I had plans for that money."
"'I'm so glad you made it home in time Bucky. It wouldn't be Christmas without you.'" He stole another kiss. "I have access to your Amazon wishlist, I could just buy it all for you. Maybe I already did, but if this is the welcome I get…"
"One-you got plenty of welcome. My knees are still jelly after that welcome, thank you very much. Two-you did what?"
He shrugged. "You'll only find out if you sleep and let Santa do his job. It's already after midnight, if we don't give him time you might not get anything."
She gave him a suspicious stare but laid her head back on his shoulder. "I only got you one thing," she confessed. "You're going to make me look inadequate."
"I like spoiling you." He brushed her hair out of her face so he could see it. "And I got you. That's the best gift ever. I don't need anything else."
"Smooth," she mumbled into his shoulder, where she tried to hide her smile, her belly doing another leap of happiness. "Merry Christmas, Bucky."
He kissed her forehead and settled back into the pillow. "Merry Christmas, Darcy."