Over the next through weeks the gossip mill was buzzing. Apparently the Winter Soldier, somewhat bionic super soldier and ex-assassin extraordinaire had a lady friend. Every Saturday night he would disappear. Every Sunday morning he'd be back in time for lunch. No one, not even his best friend Steve knew who the mystery girl was. Tony Stark was still convinced he was seeing high class call girls. Banner figured she was someone they knew and didn't want to go public. Barton kept saying she had to be a spy. They'd tried asking his only other friend, Darcy, but she didn't seem to have a clue.
"For the last fucking time Stark, I don't know!" Darcy exclaimed.
It was Saturday night and Barnes was long gone. Darcy was on her way out to the clubs. That was her Saturday routine. She often invited the others, but clubs weren't really their thing.
"Aww, come on, Lewis," Tony whined. "You're his other bestest buddy. You have to know who he's screwing."
Darcy rolled her eyes. "Even if I did, Stark, it's none of your business." And with that, she got on the elevator.
Once Darcy was out of the tower she texted James to ask where they were going. Every week was a different hotel, a different experience. Two weeks ago he'd rented a car and driven them both to Atlantic City. They'd stayed up all night drinking, people watching, talking. James taught her how to count cards, Darcy taught him how to play videogames. They hadn't made it back to the city until Sunday evening. Darcy had spent the entire evening chattering to Jane about how she'd spent the day shopping in Union Square and hitting on some dude she met at the Strand. James just smiled and dozed in his favorite chair until Steve poked him, saying he should really get some sleep.
Darcy asked him once where he got the money to go on these madcap adventures. James whipped out a Stark Industries credit card with Steve's name on it. Apparently Stark had given them out after SHIELD's collapse. Tony Stark may be an overgrown teenager, but he made sure his friends were taken care of.
Darcy's phone buzzed. The address James sent her was for Brooklyn. She hailed a cab and gave the address. She knew exactly why he was doing this. He'd lost so much time as the Winter Soldier. And since he'd come back Steve had been crowding him like an overprotective mother hen. He was so happy to get his best friend back that he'd forgotten what kind of person James had been : carefree, spirited, fun. That was the part of himself that he desperately wanted back and his weekend adventures with Darcy were the closest he'd been to happy in a very long time.
The cab stopped in front of a small hotel. Not their usual sort of place. But she paid the driver and took the stairs up to the room. She knocked. When the door opened and James saw her, his whole face lit up.
"Hey kid," he said. He took her by the hand and pulled her into the room. The room was a simple as the hotel. Nothing fancy, just a bed and a small dresser. On the dresser was a large take out bag and a bottle of wine.
"What's this?" Darcy asked, sitting on the bed.
"This is the neighborhood where Steve and I grew up," James said. He started to pull food containers out of the bag. "Back in the day there was a tiny Italian restaurant down the street from my place. Now, Steve 'n me, we didn't have much growing up. But every once in a while we'd save up and go. And believe me, sweetheart, in a time when everyone boiled everything, spaghetti and meatballs was one hell of a treat." As he opened the containers delicious smells filled the room and Darcy's mouth started to water. "My memory's still a bit patchy from those days," James continued, "but that restaurant stuck in my mind. When I came out here tonight I found it. Well, something close, but I'm pretty sure the same family still owns it. The old lady kinda looked at me funny, like she knew me."
Darcy shrugged. "She might have," she said. "Now hurry up! I'm dying of starvation over here!"
James laughed and set a sort of picnic on the bedspread. "The original idea was to take you out and show you the neighborhood," he said. "Didn't realize it had changed so much. All of these…what did you call 'em again?"
"Hipsters," Darcy replied.
"Yeah, hipsters," James said, shaking his head. "Figured if I can't show you old Brooklyn, I could bring old Brooklyn to you."
He joined her on the bed and they started their feast. Darcy was uncharacteristically quiet for the first few minutes. Then she tried the baked ziti and let out a moan that was downright obscene and it was all James could do to keep himself from launching himself at her. He found himself growing more and more fond of Darcy every day, and it wasn't just her talent in the sack that drew him to her. Though I'm not complaining about that, no siree. James looked forward to their Saturday nights alone every week. He'd had to cancel on her a couple of times when the Avengers had been called to assemble. Steve had finally put his foot down and insisted James be allowed out into the field. It was nice that the team finally trusted him, mostly. But on those nights he missed Darcy and wished he could be in a bed somewhere with her legs wrapped around him instead of dodging bullets and HYDRA's goons.
Not that Saturday was the only night they got to see each other. They still made a big show of being friends around the others. Still had movie nights and "team bonding" as Stark liked to call it. And every so often he'd sneak off to her place in the wee hours of the morning for a quick romp or to cuddle. Yes, the Winter Soldier could cuddle. One morning he'd found a hand-drawn map of the ventilation shafts pushed under the door. He suspected Barton was trying to help a fellow spy out. James appreciated his discretion.
It's not that he was ashamed of Darcy. Hell no. Nor was she ashamed of him. He doubted she was really ashamed of anything at all. It was just that his time with Darcy was the only secret he really had anymore. The only thing that was really his. It's why he hadn't told Steve yet. When he was with Darcy he could pretend he was a normal man out with his girl. She made his unnaturally long and painful life feel new and exciting for the first time in a long time. Not gonna lie, he was also pretty intimidated by Thor. Anyone even joked about going near his precious Jane or Darcy…let's just say it only happened once. They knew that one of these days someone was going to find out, but they kind of reveled in their little secret and neither of them was willing to give it up.
When they finished the feast they leaned back in the bed to watch a movie. It was an old one, something from his era. He'd always loved The Thin Man movies. When he was young he'd dreamed of meeting a girl like Myrna Loy. A spitfire who'd challenge him at every turn and wasn't afraid to let her hair down and have a good time. At first Darcy was watching the movie with him, marveling at the outfits and the astounding amount of gin the Charleses managed to put away. Soon her eyes grew heavy and she dozed off, curled up with her head in his lap. James honestly couldn't blame her. Neither of them could wait for Saturday and he'd snuck in her room the night before, not leaving until almost dawn.
James shifted, moving so that Darcy's head rested on the pillow and he leaned back to watch the movie. When it was over and Darcy still hadn't stirred he decided, fuck it, he might as well pass out too. He stood up and took his shirt off. He was about to start on his pants when he felt himself being pulled back on the bed by the belt loops. He rolled over to find Darcy waking up and staring at him.
"What's the matter, sweetheart?" he asked.
"You're almost naked," she mumbled.
James grinned. "Funny," he said. "I've never heard you complain before. Quite the opposite, actually."
Darcy pulled herself into a sitting position. "Yeah, but if anyone's getting naked first, it's me. This thing is killing me."
James looked at her, puzzled. "Not following, darlin'."
Darcy stood up and stood in front of him, beckoning him to unzip her dress. As it fell away, the source of her discomfort was clearly visible. Darcy was wearing a corset. An honest to god corset-bustier thing that looked straight out of the pinup era. Her seemingly ubiquitous tights were actually thigh highs, held up by garters that matched the bustier.
"Jesus Christ on a crutch!" he said. "When the hell did you get this getup?"
Darcy grinned at him. "Most recent shopping trip with Jane," she said. "Wanted to surprise you."
"Mission accomplished, kid," he said appreciatively.
Darcy stomped impatiently. "Jesus, Barnes. Quit looking at my rack and help me out of this thing!"
The moan of ecstasy that Darcy let out upon being released from her satin and lace prison was by far one of the most obscene things James Barnes had ever heard.
That is, until twenty minutes later.