Darcy/Bucky/Clint
The bed bounced a little, jolting Darcy into wakefulness. She pulled her head up off the pillow, blinking in the dim light. The hall light was on. And… The guys were home. Clint… Clint was on the bed next to her? Bucky was the one lowered him onto it.
Okay. This all made sense. She blinked again, peering over at them. Bucky looked… Okay. Worried, but okay. Clint looked… “Why the hell are you bleeding? Was that avoidable?” Because there were rules. If Clint got himself hurt doing something that was totally his fault, he had to sleep on the couch. Darcy was fucking tired of having to buy new sheets because someone ruined them by bleeding all over them from an injury he totally could have avoided in the first place.
He reached up a hand, fingers hovering over but not quite touching the stitched-together, butterfly bandaged scalp laceration. “If I say no will you let me play with your tits?”
He was high. Darcy drew a deep breath and looked up at Bucky, who just grinned at her in return. She had no idea what time it was and absolutely refused to check. It was dark outside, not that that necessarily meant anything. But this was going to require coffee.
She sighed, leaning over to give Clint a gentle kiss. “Later, okay? Your arms are really heavy when you fall asleep and it’s not comfortable for me.”
“Is that a promise?” He sort of tried to leer at her, managed it a little bit.
Darcy shifted the blankets over until they were covering the man on the bed, then got up and grabbed yesterday’s yoga pants and shirt off the floor before preceding Bucky out of the room. They left the door open. It looked like chances were pretty good that Clint was just going to fall right asleep, but in case he didn’t, she wanted to be able to hear him.
The light was on in the kitchen, too. Squinting against the brightness, Darcy pulled her clothes on and shuffled over to the coffee pot. Autopilot had her going through the motions of dumping out the old grounds, rinsing everything out, and setting up a new pot of coffee. Finally when the comforting smell of coffee filled the room, she turned towards Bucky and looked up at him, leaning back against the counter with her hands tucked between her and the edge of it. “What happened?”
“It actually wasn’t his fault this time.” There was no more explanation than that, Darcy didn’t really want one. That was another rule. She worried more if she knew the details of what was happening instead of just the general rundown, because then she had added scenarios of exactly what could go wrong the next time they were out saving the world.
“Is he okay?”
“Concussion-” Darcy let out a sharp sigh- “scalp laceration, bruised ribs, cracked fibula-”
“How the fuck did he manage that?” Bucky arched an eyebrow at her, and she shook her head. “Nevermind. Anything serious?”
“He’ll live. Dr. Cho fixed up the hole in his shoulder before we came up.” Which totally explained why he was already high.
“Ugh. He seriously is going to be half-plastic by the time he’s 45.” She pushed away from the counter, heading over to Bucky to rest her forehead against his chest.
His arms settled around her almost automatically, but the extra squeeze he gave her told her he really meant it. His lips moved against the top of her head, and she could hear his heart beating away in his chest, still a little bit faster than normal.
“How are you?” she asked, turning her head so her words carried clearly past his shirt.
“I’m gonna need a vacation soon.” There was a slight strain in his voice, and Darcy wrapped her arms tightly around him.
“You want help with a shower?” She pulled back to look up into his face, still a bit dust-smudged.
“You don’t have to-”
“Obviously I don’t have to.” She grinned and reached up to tug gently on the ends of his hair. “But I want to. Plus I like cuddling with you and smelling your shampoo. So really, you’d be doing me a favor.”
His face broke into a smile and he nodded.