Darcy Elizabeth Lewis-Barnes had some of the best childhood friends a girl could ask for. Sure they were now scattered across the world, pursuing their dreams and getting into varying levels of trouble, but they had stuck closely to tradition. They were also part of the reason Darcy had met her husband, Bucky “Come on doll, we’re literally married now, please call me James” Barnes. To be fair, it had really started with a bear, themed after Bucky himself because why not model a bear after a WW2 hero? Stranger things had happened. At least that’s what her parents were convinced of. It would have been embarrassing to let them know the truth, that because her friends sent her explicit gifts inspired by the famous Sergeant Sexy, said Winter Sexbot had taken notice of her. It would be even more mortifying to tell them that finally, after much modelling (of the aforementioned gifts) and many dinner dates, he had put a ring on it. So yes, Darcy had some of the best friends a girl could ask for given that she could thank them for her marriage.
Although, to be fair, now that Darcy had the real deal (and how sweet was that?), she had been pretty sure it would all stop. How could her friends even hope to compete with the effects of his smolder (oh god, his smolder)? Darcy had clearly underestimated them, because it appeared they could (much to Bucky’s displeasure).
A few weeks previously, Darcy had been complaining of her husband being gone so often to one friend in particular, Emma (who currently worked as a marine biologist down in Sydney). For her part Emma listened and had very much been a metaphorical shoulder to cry on. But it wasn’t like she had a superhero husband herself, and so her advice wasn’t the most helpful (however well intentioned it was). Jane (her work bestie and Science Overlord) too was little help. After all James, while a super soldier who could carry her one armed over his shoulder, was not a God.
So Darcy suffered. She dealt with sleepless nights and pent up frustration while Bucky was away on missions. Which wasn’t so bad, as he had been kept to shorter jobs until he was deemed fit for long term, infiltration-esque missions. The only problem was that he had passed those examinations with flying colours and would now be going out into the field for months at a time, doing what Winter Soldiers do best (aside from giving the best back rubs known to man). Darcy had thought that was the end of it, her friends believed they had helped, and her husband didn’t know about her issues. Darcy really needed to learn that she was routinely wrong.
Bucky had continued to check the mail, it would be brought up to their apartment in the wee hours of the morning and without fail, he would look it all over in the kitchen. Darcy would usually get up some time in the middle of this procedure and go join him, sitting together at their little dining table while she waited for her coffee to kick in. On this particular morning though, their routine had changed. Darcy did not wake up (due to the intense nature of the previous night's activities), and Bucky went through his routine alone. It also happened that on this particular morning Darcy received a package from Emma.
When Darcy finally did come to, she left the bedroom and shuffled slowly down the hall (because ow, she was sore, not everyone had super healing James), finally coming to an abrupt stop upon reaching the kitchen. She didn’t know if she actually wanted to go in, based on her husband's stormy expression. In fact, her body seemed to notice that, based on his glare, this might not be the best place for her at all and had started to subconsciously back up. That was until she heard him growl (because apparently Sergeant Stone Age was a thing now) out a harsh, “Don’t. Come sit. We need to talk”.
Darcy Elizabeth Lewis-Barnes was a brave woman. She had tazed a god, regularly faced off against the famous wit of Tony Stark, and married The Goddamn Winter Soldier (trademark pending, courtesy of the previously mentioned Tony Stark). But the phrase “we need to talk” never boded well for anyone in a relationship, so she shakily went to her usual place across from him, and sat.
Bucky leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as his eyes narrowed, “Am I not enough for you?” he asked, sounding more broken and insecure than had probably been intended.
Darcy, to her credit, was actually able to form a coherent response as her panic gently subsided, “What? No. Honey you’re perfect. Literally cut from marble, the stuff of Greek myth perfect. Why would you even ask that?”.
Bucky nodded, seemingly satisfied with the voracity of whatever she had said (super spies and their super ways, she really shouldn’t dwell). Moving to reach under the table, he picked up the box by his feet, “Your friends sent you this,” he said as he opened it, revealing what appeared to be a miniature model of his metal arm, “and I thought you were hiding something from me”.
Darcy inspected the arm, not fully understanding what it was for a moment. When she finally remembered her conversation with Emma she barked out a laugh, “Oh honey no, this, you see, Emma and I were talking”, Bucky raised an eyebrow in response, prompting her to continue, “Right. You want more details, details are good. Communication is good. Okay, well we were talking right? And I mentioned how, with you being posted on longer assignments, I was feeling lonely. But I didn’t want to tell you, because superhero business is literal apocalypse aversion, and wife pleasing isn’t”. It would appear that it was now Bucky’s turn to look guilty. He ducked his head, folding his arms in his lap, and started shaking? No that wasn’t shame, that was laughter. The asshole found this funny!
“Oh dollface, you only had to tell me. I don’t have to go on those longer missions, I just thought you might want some time away from me.” he glanced up from under his eyelashes and damn her if she didn’t know exactly what he was doing with his puppy dog eyes and innocent expression.
“Honey, your missions are important. Please don’t go changing them on my account” she replied evenly (see Jane? She could be mature!).
James got a sour look on his face, startlingly similar to that one time she had made him try Toxic Waste, “But dollface, don’t you just want the real thing? I know my hand is much better than whatever this...thing...could do” he breathed out, looking at her as if to dare an objection.
It could never be said that Darcy Elizabeth Lewis-Barnes backed down from a challenge. Instead she straightened up, lifted her chin in utter defiance, and retorted, “Well dear, I don’t know. We haven’t tested this new one out yet. I’m sure it could work just as well as your arm, maybe even better. It is a new model after all”.
At his silence and blank stare she wondered if perhaps she had finally won an argument against him. Except, oh no, he looked predatory again, like a hunter ready to pounce on its prey, and given the lack of other people in the room that prey was her. Nothing good ever came from that look, she still had the lovebites from last week's battle of wills to prove it.
“Hmmm,” he mused, placing his hand on his chin, “what I’m hearing is that we need to test them both out, so I can prove you don’t need this...toy?” he asked, or rather, demanded. James didn’t actually wait for an answer as he dove across the table and swept his darling wife into his arms, walking back to their bedroom with Darcy held safely over his shoulder.
Darcy Elizabeth Lewis-Barnes knew when to pick her battles, but she also knew when to compromise. James didn’t stop going on longer missions, but he made her promise to get rid of the arm. And she did, get rid of it from the apartment that is. It wasn’t kept in their home anymore, instead resting in her drawer at work. And if she took it back with her on particularly lonely nights when he was away, well it wasn’t like he needed to know.