As a child Darcy Elizabeth Lewis had a Bucky Bear. With its soft brown fur, and navy blue Howling Commandos jacket the bear had quickly become her favourite toy. Her parents thought this adorable, and so never questioned Darcy's complete attachment to said comfort object.
As a teen Darcy Elizabeth Lewis had kept the Bucky Bear, now placed proudly on one of the many bookshelves in her bedroom. Upon learning of the man behind the bear (corporations were behind many evil things, but whoever thought up the idea of making a bear modelled on the ultimate forties heartthrob turned hero deserved a god damn raise in her mind), promptly had her first celebrity crush. At sleepovers Darcy and her friends would sit around in a circle, on their sleeping bags, and share their various fantasies (which only became more realistic with age). Darcy mentioned her affinity for one James “Bucky” Barnes, and her friends latched on to it with a crazed sort of glee that would be concerning from almost anyone else. From that point on Darcy, at random moments throughout the year, received varying levels of increasingly inappropriate Bucky Barnes themed merch, and she (shamelessly) loved it all.
As an intern (not a real adult yet, because no thank you, responsibilities can stay in the far off and distant future) Darcy Elizabeth Lewis realised her minor obsession with a decidedly not dead war hero may be an issue. With Jane having recently moved her lab to Stark Tower, where said hero turned assassin lived, and her childhood friends being aware of said relocation she was worried. The gift giving had only increased in intensity and explicitness with age, and Darcy knew her friends would be having a field day. There was also the fact that despite her move having taken place three months ago, she had yet to receive a single piece of Bucky themed memorabilia. With this in mind Darcy did her best to avoid Sergeant Barnes, which was admittedly not a hard task to accomplish, an intern had little business with an avenger after all. In truth she had only met Sargent “call me James, dollface” Barnes once, when Jane and her had just moved in and Thor was recalling his teammates with stories of his lady and lightning sister. The way he looked her over with his intense ice blue eyes should have been illegal. It was like all of her young adult fantasies coming true at once, and Darcy was fairly certain this had been written all over her face. Upon seeing his utterly sinful smirk slide into place, Darcy knew she had been made. So yes, since that first embarrassing meeting with Sargent Barnes, sex god extraordinaire, she had avoided him like the plague and kept one eye open for suspicious packages from not so well intentioned friends.
As a Stark employee (which was really just a glorified intern with a fancy credit card because Tony didn’t know how to express emotion), Darcy Elizabeth Lewis had yet to receive a single gift from her friends. She had crossed the line from scared to offended. They had missed her birthday for heaven's sake! That never happened. Darcy was also becoming increasingly aware of a shadow that had taken to following her around the tower. The only reason she knew this feeling was not the result of too many science benders (and was in fact real) was because said shadow had also taken to gifting her breakfast on her little wooden desk in the corner of Jane’s lab. She was not going to look a caramel cloud macchiato with a butter croissant in the mouth, thank you very much. Jane was under the impression that this shadow was a secret admirer. Darcy wanted Jane to shut up and stop trying to hook her up with a boyfriend just because she felt bad that Darcy wasn’t getting any while she had a literal God to come home to every night. She had continued to avoid Bucky like the plague, even though he had been quite persistent in the first few months of her living at the tower. He had eventually left her alone, seemingly having given up. Darcy was still unsure of what exactly had led to his interest in her at all, she was just Jane’s gofer, not a superhero or superbrain in her own right. Things had been going well enough, that of course they had to eventually go wrong, and on a Monday no less. Darcy had been missing her mail for long enough, and had decided to go down to the mailroom on her break to see what was the what. Upon entering said room she was promptly told by the nice people working down there that mail for Avengers and Avengers related personnel (which she sadly fell under the umbrella of) was looked over by one James Buchanan Barnes before being allowed to be delivered. Upon further stunned inquiry she was also told that this was another way Sargent Sexy was able to ensure the safety of the tower and its inhabitants (which for a veteran and ex prisoner of war did make some sense). Darcy shuffled back to the labs in a state of rising mortification, her head bent in her phone trying to ignore the crushing sense of knowing exactly what had happened. She did not notice the man in front of her, not until she bumped into him that is. A silver hand had reached out to steady her and Darcy took in a breath when she realised who she had bumped in to. She looked up into his eyes and (in typical Darcy fashion) said the first thing that came to mind, “So funny story, it would seem that you’re in charge of checking over mail for us Avengers adjacent folks, and I’ve been missing said mail since I came to this tower. You don’t really have that big a thing for ladies underwear do you? I mean hey, if you do no judgement here, just get your own dude.”.
Bucky looked down at her for a minute, his gaze turning damn near predatory, and Darcy had the distinct impression that she had fallen into some sort of trap (which, knowing of The Winter Soldier wasn’t outside her realm of possibility), “Well doll,” he drawled in that edible Brooklyn accent of his, “now that you mention it I do. Especially when it comes to lingerie fashioned after my own old uniform. Have to admit I’ve been wanting you to model it for me for some months now”.
Darcy was fairly certain her brain had finally broken. The James Barnes was not standing in front of her in fucking Stark Tower of all places, practically propositioning her. “I, uhm, what?” she said, cheeks beginning to resemble her cherry red sweater.
Bucky only laughed, using his arm to bring her flush against his body “Will you model it for me? I’d love to see what it looks like on you. Although I will admit that I’m even more interested in seeing what it looks like off of you, on my bedroom floor. But I was raised in the thirties, you know, I have to treat a lady right. Would you settle for dinner and the promise of future modelling opportunities?”.
Darcy, having finally regained her speech capabilities, brought herself up to his ear and whispered an affirmative that had even the great Winter Sexbot blushing.
As a newly married woman, Darcy Elizabeth Lewis-Barnes was completely and incandescently happy. This may be down to the honeymoon on one of the many private islands owned by one Tony Stark, or the many orgasms her new husband had managed to pull out of her. Darcy wasn’t one to dwell.