Yeah, this is a little late. Chapter 22 was the last one that was completely written before the morning of the day it was supposed to be posted. So I can't make promises that the remaining 8 chapters will be one time.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own the Marvel Cinematic Universe or any of the characters contained therein.

WORD COUNT: 1800

"GET DOWN!"

Bucky Barnes thought he was prepared for anything, but apparently his girlfriend suddenly screaming and tackling him to the ground did not count as 'anything'. All the air flew out of his lungs in a big whoosh upon impact with the ground.

"Darcy?" he gasped, trying to get his breath back while simultaneously attempting to move Darcy off of him. "Darcy?!"

His elbow bumped into the barrel of his weapon, and his blood turned to ice as the terrible thought entered his mind. Was she shot? Did she just take a bullet for him?! He shoved her off his body as gently as he could, then started searching for the gunshot wound. He felt something slick and wet under his fingers, and rolled her over slightly to see the bright blue liquid running down – wait. Blue?

And suddenly he could breathe again, as he remembered where they were.

Darcy groaned and rolled over, sitting up. "Damn it," she groaned, "Tell me that wasn't Deanna, at least."

Bucky peeked over the edge of their shelter and ducked as Jasper – he was pretty sure it was Jasper under all that gear – fired a few more blue paint pellets at his head. "It was your damn brother," he groused, "Guess he was trying to get me back for last night."

Darcy chuckled. "That was his own damn fault. Who challenges a super-soldier to an arm-wrestling match?"

"Well, he'd had about four beers, so I'd say a drunk man does that."

She sighed. "Well, either way, I'm out." She blew him a kiss from beneath her paintball mask. "Kick ass, Babe." With her paint marker slung on her back, she walked out, hands up.

Bucky picked his own marker back up and carefully maneuvered himself into a crouch. Unlike last year's match, he had been put on the offense division of their team (pink again), and was trying to infiltrate the blue team's side and get their flag. Darcy had stuck with him, but now that she was out, he was all alone.

The flag was actually within sight, but it had been placed in the middle of a wide expanse of ground with no cover, and blue team members had positioned themselves around it, ready to shoot anyone who came at it like fish in a barrel. He'd have to take them out before he could make a move.

Starting with Jasper, of course. Bucky breathed in, breathed out, and listened closely. When he focused, he could hear the sound of Jasper's anticipatory breathing, and the crunch of the ground under his boots as he shifted his weight. He was stepping slowly out of his own cover, moving towards Bucky's position. And so was one of his teammates, from a similar direction.

He inhaled once more, and pivoted on his heel as he stood up. He fired two shots, a a third when he spotted another opponent stepping out of her own bunker, then he ducked back down. A second later, he heard – and felt – a few paintball shells smacking the other side of the wall. He was pretty sure there was only one guard left.

This, he could handle.

He ducked out, sprinted passed a still-confused Jasper, and raced for the flag, shooting back at his one remaining opponent. He yanked the flag out of its stand just as one lone blue pellet slammed into his right bicep.

Skidding into a new shelter, he grimaced at the blue spatter dripping down his right arm. He wouldn't be able to carry both the flag and his paint marker at the same time, with his right arm 'out of commission'. So he holstered his marker, gripped the flag in his left hand, and bolted out of his hiding spot.

While most people would have stumbled and tripped over the uneven ground, Bucky moved smoothly across the terrain, relying on his enhanced reflexes and agility to get him over – and under – any obstacles in his path. He was pretty sure he jumped right over the head of one of the blue team members in a trench.

He almost didn't stop when he crossed the border line that marked the division between the two teams' territories. Only the rousing cheers from the rest of the pink team clued him in to the fact that he had just won them the game.

Dinner was held at a large, nearby pub, with a second-floor party room that the Brewer clan had rented out. It also had a balcony accessible from that floor, and that was where Bucky retreated when the press and the noise of the crowd became too much. Enhanced senses combined with PTSD was a bitch, especially in situations with lots of loud noises, jostling crowds, and overpowering smells. He just needed a few minutes to breathe, to collect himself. Darcy had helped, distracting one very chatty great-aunt long enough for him to get away. He caught a glimpse of her through the glass windows in the old oak doors, playing pool with her sister, brother, and brother-in-law, as well as one or two of her many second cousins.

The first time he'd been to one of these things, the various relatives had been wary of him. He'd been a new member of the Avengers, and all the public had heard was that he'd used to work for HYDRA and then switched back to the good guys' side. The circumstances of his time under HYDRA's thumb had been largely subject to gossip and rumours, so many were skeptical of his apparent change of heart. While Darcy's mother, Christa, had been warm and friendly in greeting him, he'd overheard her pulling Darcy aside and asking if she was sure he was safe to be around.

This year, however, they were much more comfortable around him, since last year's reunion had passed mostly without incident (well, without incidents involving him). Winning the paintball match had certainly helped with that. Unfortunately, that new level of comfort around him meant that they were perfectly comfortable with slapping him on the back and getting right in his personal space, despite Darcy's careful reminders of his PTSD.

So now, here he was, hiding out on the balcony, a beer in hand (the pub actually had some really good brands, so even though he couldn't get drunk, at least he still had some decent choices, taste-wise), taking in deep breaths and trying to restore his heartbeat to a reasonable pace.

The sudden swell in noise ratcheted that heartrate back up. He spun around to face the tall, brunette woman coming through the door. Christa Church-Brewer was like a taller version of her daughter, with the same spark and quirky personality. She also had the same protective streak, so the fierceness that came out when Darcy was defending the Avengers from their political critics was also present when Christa defended her children. She'd grilled him for a full ninety minutes when she first met him last year, mostly about his intentions towards her daughter, but also about the additional dangers that came with dating him, such as his stability and the kind of people that might want to hurt him through Darcy.

So, naturally, he couldn't help but feel a little nervous at the thought of being left alone with her.

"Nice shooting today," she commented casually, coming over to lean on the railing with her own drink in hand, "And running, for that matter. Darcy said you were fast, but some things you just have to see to believe."

Bucky cleared his throat. "Uh… Thanks."

"Of course, you still weren't fast enough to dodge my shot."

He blinked at her. "That was you? You shot me in the arm?"

Christa smirked. "Yep." She drew out the 'y' and popped the 'p', just like Darcy would. "I may not have been military, but my dad sure loved to hunt! Taught me everything he knew." She took a drink, swallowed, then continued. "I also saw my little girl take a paintball for you." Now she was fixing him with a piercing gaze. "She didn't hesitate, and while this time it was just a harmless game, I can't help but wonder, with the sort of life you live, if one day it might be something much worse."

Bucky swallowed. He understood immediately what she was getting at. "When she took that hit for me, I… Sometimes, I forget where I am. I hear a loud noise, and my brain automatically thinks it's a gunshot, or something like that. For a moment, there, I thought she'd actually taken a bullet for me. I mean, I remembered what was going on once I saw the blue paint, but before that…" He shuddered. "It felt like my heart had just stopped. I couldn't breathe. I would never ask Darcy to do something like that for me, but I can't guarantee she wouldn't, and I don't think I'd be able to stop her. Not always, anyway."

Christa smiled wryly. "That's my little girl. Once she's decided you're worth fighting for, she fights, and she goes all in."

"Yeah, I've noticed that. But telling the likes of Christine Everhart where to shove it on national television is a lot different than jumping in front of a bullet."

"I know that. And I know that nothing either of us says is going to convince her to stay away from you, or from the life she's chosen for herself. Truth be told, a part of me doesn't want to. She's happier with you and the Avengers than I've ever seen her. So I've got only one thing to ask of you."

She looked him right in the eye, her expression dead serious. Bucky swallowed again, but did not break eye contact.

"I need to know if you feel just as strongly for my daughter as she feels for you. Would you take a bullet for my daughter? Without hesi-"

"In a heartbeat, Ma'am," Bucky responded, without hesitation.

Christa blinked, then she leaned back, apparently satisfied. "Good. While I don't want to see her having to go to your funeral, I'd much rather it not be hers, understand?"

"I understand. Completely. I'd jump between her and a hundred bullets, if that's what it takes."

"Well, I'll settle for doing your best to keep yourself and Darcy out of situations where either of you might have to do that. Deal?"

Bucky breathed a sigh of relief. "Deal."

I totally picture Allison Janney as Darcy's mom – picture her in her role as Bonnie on 'Mom', though mostly only in appearance.

Next chapter: Drowning.