Mistletoe
She’d known she’d been in love with him long before he’d said the words to her. From the first moment they’d met in the Avengers kitchen, when she’d smacked his hand with a spatula for reaching for her goodies, Darcy had been undeniably drawn to him. Sure, he was a fine specimen of a man, with those baby blues and that chiseled jawline, and all those muscles that weren’t really hidden at all by his long-sleeved shirt.
But she could also see how wounded he was. That dark, deep pain in his eyes that shone through when he didn’t think anyone was watching, or when he was allowed to spend too much time alone without a distraction. And Darcy had done damaged before. It never ended well for her.
So, she’d kept her distance emotionally, treating him just like she treated everyone else. With zero-judgement, a heavy dose of sarcasm and blunt honesty, and a hint of subtle pranks.
And damn the charming bastard, but he’d slipped right through her emotional barriers and settled inside her stupid, stupid heart.
It hadn’t been until several weeks later when Darcy had realized that he didn’t act the same with other woman that he did with her, that she’d wondered if he felt something else for her. He was respectful to other women, more open with those on the team than the rest, but Bucky looked at her differently. Unmistakably.
She didn’t play games. Not when it came to this. So, Darcy got right in his business, told him that she thought he was hot, and liked him, and if he was interested, then they should continue getting to know each other better. Bucky had blinked at her for a long moment, caught off-guard by her blunt declaration, and then given her a smoldering smirk, took her hand, and laid a barely-there kiss on her knuckles.
“That sounds really good, doll,” he’d replied.
And now, months later, Darcy had been struggling with whether or not they were ready for the real deal. She had always been the one who invested more in relationships than her partner, and the lingering thought that he couldn’t feel the same way about her as she did about him was wreaking havoc on her self-confidence.
Because she knew that she loved him.
He had told her everything about his life. All that he could remember, every single detail, wanting her to know who he was if they were going to continue to grow closer. And Darcy had held it together for him, hugging him when he had finished and telling him that it didn’t make a difference as far as how much she cared about him. And then she’d returned to her apartment and cried her eyes out for the rest of the night.
She’d never been more grateful that HYDRA had been wiped out as she had that night.
They’d just finished putting the rest of her Christmas gifts in her apartment, and were now heading to Bucky’s for a movie and some hot chocolate she’d made from scratch earlier, when he gently clasped her wrist and stopped her movements. She spun around, about to make a comment about his couch getting lonely, when she noticed the seriousness of his expression.
She followed his gaze when it flickered up over her head, and Darcy felt her heart leap into her throat when she noticed what had caught his attention.
Tony fucking Stark’s fucking mistletoe.
He’d thought it was funny, had joked when Maria and Pepper had passed beneath it at the same time that it was a mandatory tradition, and anyone caught under the mistletoe had to kiss. They’d both given him matching unamused looks and continued on as if he hadn’t spoken, but Darcy didn’t think Bucky was treating this like a joke.
“What do you say, doll?” Bucky asked her, his voice low and causing shivers to crawl down her spine. She swallowed heavily, chewing on the inside of her mouth as she tried to gather her thoughts. Darcy knew that as much as she’d like to play it off, the look in his eyes meant that this wasn’t the time for humor.
“There isn’t anyone around,” she threw out weakly, but Bucky just arched a brow a her.
“This isn’t for anyone else. This about you and me,” he replied seriously, stepped closer to her.
“What if this changes things… what if… what if we don’t work?” Darcy asked him in a voice barely above a whisper. Bucky smiled softly at her, though his eyes were dark and intense as they flickered down to her lips and back.
“What if we do. Darce… I’m in love with you. And that ain’t changing,” Bucky admitted, and she felt her breath catch as he leaned just a little closer. Her heart was pounding in her chest, so hard that she was sure he could hear it, and Bucky paused an inch away, waiting for her to choose.
To choose him.
Darcy told her fears to suck it, and in an uncharacteristically graceful move, popped up onto her toes, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pressed her lips into his. His reaction was instantaneous, as one large hand gripped her waist and the other moved up to tangle in her hair, turning her head slightly to better the angle of their kiss.
Bucky licked at the seam of her lips as his mouth moved against hers, and Darcy parted them with an eager noise that seemed to spur him on. His tongue swept into her mouth, caressing hers, as he splayed his fingers on her lower back and pressed her closer to him. Darcy clutched at his shoulders, twisted her fingers in his hair, absolutely intoxicated by the taste of his mouth and the skillful way he kissed her.
When she moved closer to him, bringing their bodies flush together, she got a feel for just how much he was working with as his erection pressed against her belly. Heat bloomed in her gut at the thought of experiencing that for herself, and Darcy couldn’t help but tilt her hips into him. Bucky gave a groan into her mouth as his fingers spasmed against her back, and then he pulled back slightly and let out a shuddering exhale.
She was breathing hard, caught up in everything that he made her feel, and then remembered that she hadn’t told him yet.
“I love you too,” Darcy whispered, softly but firmly, and Bucky squeezed his eyes shut as an expression of pain and then relief ghosted across his features. He reached up with both hands and caressed her cheeks as he forced his eyes open, and she could see the intensity of his emotions reflected there.
“You’re sure?” he asked her tentatively, and Darcy huffed lightly.
“That I love you? Yeah, I have for a while. Unless, you’re asking for something else? In which case, I’m still sure,” she quipped, rolling her hips against his in an unmistakable motion. Bucky inhaled sharply as his eyes darkened further, his pupils blown wide, leaving only a thin ring of blue.
“Well, I’m not one to argue with a dame that knows what she wants,” Bucky drawled, and then, in a display of strength that only turned her on more—if that were even possible—he effortlessly swept her up in his arms and strode down the hall in quick, purposeful steps towards his apartment. Darcy couldn’t hold back a delighted little laugh at his actions, and made a note to do something nice for Tony when he let her up for air.
Maybe a graphic illustration of the effects his little joke had had.
And then Bucky had carried her straight through his apartment and to his bedroom, and when he’d pulled off his shirt, Darcy was pretty sure her she wasn’t gonna be able to even remember her own name.
Damn, but she was a lucky girl.