A/N: I own nothing. I guess I'll keep going.

They were silent as they shared a cab back to Avengers Tower. The tension was so thick you could cut it with a chainsaw. Or smash it with Thor's hammer. James thought. He'd felt so sure, so cocky back at the club. He'd almost felt like himself again, or at least the way Steve remembered him. But he wasn't that man and Darcy wasn't one of the flighty dames he'd chased back in the 40's. They lived in a much more serious world and neither of them could risk compromising the other.

The cab jostled as it turned a corner and Darcy fell against him, brushing his hand with hers as she tried to right herself. Her fingers tangled with his and they stayed like that for the rest of the trip. When they got out James paid the driver and led her into the building, still holding her hand. They rode up the elevator in silence. When they reached the right floor she led him wordlessly to her apartment and unlocked the door, leading him inside.

Her living room was dark but they found the couch easily. Darcy kicked off the ridiculous heels she'd been wearing and sank down on the sofa. James stared at her, watched the way her hair fell into her face. He automatically reached out with his left hand to brush it away but she caught it and stopped him.

"Take it off," she said. He cocked his head, confused. "Take the sleeve off."

He hesitated, then rolled up his left sleeve above the elbow and peeled the fake skin away. He dropped it on the coffee table. Darcy took his metal hand in both of hers and looked at it, watching how the metal caught the city lights streaming in from the window.

"Can you feel me touching you?" He shook his head. Darcy grinned. "Come on, where's that old James Barnes charm Steve keeps talking about?"

James looked at her for a second, then stood up rather quickly. He walked over to Darcy's iPod and flipped through the songs. When he found the right one a smile crossed his face that Darcy had never seen before. James rarely smiled these days. When he did it was a sort of sardonic smirk. Sometimes, rarely, when he fell asleep during one of their movie nights Darcy thought she saw a ghost of a boyish grin. This was neither. It was a slow Cheshire cat grin that lit up his face in a way she hadn't seen before. When the song started she was confused. It was slow and seemed to make the still night air heat up.

She sat still as he walked over to her. He took her hands in his and brought her to her feet in front of him. He put her right hand on his shoulder and took her left in his right while his metal hand rested on her waist.

"What is this?" Darcy asked timidly. James just grinned that sly grin.

"Dancing, sweetheart. We're dancing."

And then he started to move. He pressed her close to him and swayed in time with the music. She swayed with him, enjoying the slow beat and the feel of him pressed up against her. Halfway through the song he shifted so both of her hands were around this neck while his were around her waist. When the song finally ended she looked him in the eye. That sly grin was gone, replaced with something darker. She was about to say something when the first verse of the next song started:

This bed is on fire with passionate love.
The neighbors complain about the noises above.
But she only comes when she's on top.

James burst out laughing, a deep full laugh. It was infectious and Darcy soon joined in and they were laughing like idiots, dancing across the apartment until James pressed her up against the nearest wall and kissed her. And it wasn't some timid, soft kiss. It was hard and messy with his hands in her hair and her back against the wall. When he finally released her she stared up at him, positively delighted. She kissed him back with equal fervor, grabbing at the buttons of his shirt until he finally picked her up and set her on the kitchen counter. When she started to protest he placed a metal finger on her lips.

"I like this shirt, doll. I'd rather you not rip it."

In the time it took him to unbutton the shirt Darcy had hers off and was making quick work of her skirt. He picked her up again and carried her into her bedroom, dumping her unceremoniously on the bed. He stood over her at the foot, watching her intently. All trace of laughter was gone from his face as he stared at her. Her lips were swollen from where he'd kissed her and he could see a bite or two making an appearance on her shoulder. Her hair was tangled from his fingers and her eyes were wide and staring at him with a come hither look that make him shudder. He watched her divest herself of the rest of her clothes, then move to the foot of the bed to work on his belt buckle. She'd just managed to get his pants undone when he remembered how to move.

He gently removed her hands and finished the job himself before pushing her down on the bed and showing her how a girl like her ought to be treated. They clung to each other like a lifeline, each giving what the other desperately needed in a delicate balancing act that eventually sent them both teetering into oblivion. He was more than James Barnes. More than the Winter Soldier. She was more than the flighty intern. More than a college student caught up in a battle against the forces of evil. In that moment they were everything to each other.

When they finally finished she rolled off of him and collapsed on the bed in an exhausted heap. He wrapped his arms around her and held her to him close, kissing her hair and whispering in her ear that she was beautiful, incredible, that he'd never seen anything so gorgeous in his life. She listened to him as her eyes grew heavy and she slowly drifted off to sleep.