Coffee and Instruction Manuals
Darcy woke slowly to the sound of soft and fervent cursing coming from her kitchen, the low tones of a male voice carrying in beneath her closed bedroom door. She scrunched her brow in confusion for a moment before the events of last night began to filter back into her memory.
Crap on a stick. In her infinite wisdom, she had taken in a stray supersoldier in the middle of the night, hadn’t she? One who was now cursing up a storm in her kitchen for unknown reasons. That sounded like a promising start to her morning...or mid-afternoon, as it were. The sound of Bucky’s cursing became increasingly concerning and creative the longer she lay in bed. For fear of having him go completely nuclear in her kitchen, Darcy jerked out of bed, grabbing her glasses from her nightstand and shoving them on her face before stepping out into her hallway. As she rounded the corner of her kitchen entryway, she saw Barnes’ large frame standing in front of her Keurig, one fist raised menacingly at her coffee maker.
“Barnes, what the hell are you doing to my baby?”
Bucky froze, shoulders jumping to his ears, startled by her sudden appearance and obvious dismay. He quickly pulled the offending fist behind his back and took a step back from the coffee maker, looking very much like a giant, grumpy toddler who'd been caught in the midst of mischief.
“Nothing ma’am. I was trying to make coffee. The machine was not complying,” Bucky murmured softly. He hesitated and then snuck a quick glance at her face before returning his gaze to the machine with a slight scowl.
Darcy walked over to her precious, life-giving baby, crowding the space between Barnes and the counter, before wrapping a loving arm around her Keurig. “Lana is not a machine. She is a nurturing, sustenance-giving lady who deserves to be treated with respect. You can’t just manhandle her into compliance, she is complex and beautiful. You must use finesse, Barnes. Finesse!”
Bucky, who had scuttled back a bit upon her approach, leaned against the opposite counter from her, crossing his arms over his chest. “You named your coffee maker?” he asked, cocking his head to the side and lifting an eyebrow into a condescending arch.
Darcy sniffed, not deigning to reply to his impertinence, and turned towards Lana because coffee actually sounded pretty amazing right now, despite the fact that it was far past morning. She pulled a mug from the cabinet above her and picked out what flavor of coffee she wanted. Today seemed like a hazelnut creme kinda day. As she fiddled with the buttons on the brewer, she felt, rather than heard, Barnes slide up to the counter beside her.
“Can I help you?” she asked, glancing up at him over her shoulder.
“Nah doll, just trying to pick up on some of that ‘finesse’ you were talking about. Didn’t realize Lana was a lady, otherwise I woulda treated her right from the beginning. I gotta make amends, don’t I?” Barnes looked down at her with a smirk and a wink and Darcy was suddenly very aware of the fact that he was very much in her personal bubble at the moment. That awareness was swiftly followed by the secondary awareness that she had not brushed her teeth this morning as of yet.
“Right. Amends,” she replied, nodding her head and taking a solid step to the right, allowing Barnes access to Lana and enough distance to avoid any morning breath incidences.
Hopefully.
Darcy waved a hand at the machine, “Well, the hard work is done now, just push this button here and badabing badaboom: coffee.” She took another step towards the kitchen entryway. “I think you’ve got it from here Sergeant Barnes, I’m gonna go...make myself presentable,” she said, tugging at her holey cotton sleep shirt and running a hand over her spectacular case of bedhead. She spun on her heel and booked it to her bedroom, missing the way Barnes’ head dropped and a frustrated sigh escaped his chest.
He used to be better at this, he thought, while pressing the button she'd indicated. Talking to people, making friends...it used to be as easy as breathing. His Ma always called him “charmer” and said that he'd never met a stranger. But everything and everyone was strange to him now and he couldn't quite figure out how to regain the ability to bridge the relational gap. Darcy’s quick exit was becoming an achingly familiar reaction to his friendly overtures these days. No one seemed willing to spend more than a few seconds in his company before running. At least Darcy didn't seem as scared as the others, just deeply uncomfortable. Christ, why was this so hard?
With a fizz and a spurt, Darcy’s cup of coffee finished brewing. He set her cup aside and pulled a mug from the cabinet she'd gone to earlier, mimicking her actions and setting his own cup of coffee brewing. He was rummaging around in her fridge when he heard Darcy step back into the kitchen.
“Looking for something in particular?” she asked.
Bucky turned to look at her. She was fresh-faced and dressed in denims and some kind of sweater...thing, with her hair collected and piled on top of her head. She still wore her glasses and Bucky thought she looked like youth incarnate, all rosy cheeks and soft lips and...wait. She'd asked him a question hadn't she? Shit.
“Uh. Yeah,” he mumbled, shaking his head clear. Then with more confidence, “You got any creamer? That fancy flavored stuff?”
Darcy arched an eyebrow in amusement. “Sorry, buddy. All I've got is milk. I figured you as more of a black coffee kind of guy, what with the military background and all?”
Bucky turned back to the fridge, crooking a finger through the handle of the milk jug and pulling it out. “I like what I like. What's the point of being in the future if I can't enjoy the little luxuries of this century?” he asked, shoulders hunched defensively.
He really did enjoy that fancy stuff. The common kitchen in the tower had a particularly delicious selection and he’d become notoriously fond of it. He'd gotten about a third of the way through a bottle of pumpkin spice flavor one morning when Clint had caught him sipping the stuff straight from the jug. Barton had just snorted and grabbed a bagel off the counter before turning to leave, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like, “basic bitch” under his breath.
“Hey, no judgement,” Darcy said, raising her hands in a placating gesture. She picked up her own mug and took a small sip. “I’ll pick you some up the next time I’m at the store though...if you want?”
Bucky gave her a shy smile as he measured out a slug of milk into his cup. “Thanks doll, I’d appreciate it.”
“Anytime,” Darcy replied, pulling out a drawer and grabbing a spoon for him.
Bucky plucked the proffered spoon from her fingers, “Thanks, got any sugar?” Darcy hummed her affirmation, before sliding her sugar bowl in his direction. She watched over the rim of her mug in amusement as he dumped spoonful after spoonful of the stuff into his coffee.
“Did they not have diabetes in the 40s?” she asked with a wry grin. Barnes shot her an unamused look before deliberately adding another heaping spoonful. That little shit.
“One of the perks of being a super soldier, sweetheart. I eat what I want without consequence,” he replied, stirring in his sugar with a flourish and taking a healthy swallow of what had to be a sickeningly sweet concoction. This was followed by a deeply satisfied sigh from him that had Darcy contemplating keeping sugary foods and beverages in constant supply in order to hear him make more noises of that variety. Rolling her eyes at him, and a little bit at herself, Darcy grabbed the milk jug and replaced it in the fridge.
“You eaten today?” she asked, eyes scoping out the shelves of her fridge, searching for anything that might be halfway edible.
“No ma’am.”
“Welp, we can’t have that. Rogers would be on my ass like white on rice if he found out.” Darcy firmly closed the refrigerator door. The contents of it were a lost cause anyway. “I don’t have anything for us here, but there’s a really great German sandwich shop about three blocks from here...” Darcy trailed off, her brain catching up to her mouth with sudden horror. “Oooor, we could go somewhere that is not related in any way to the country and people that you fought against and were captured and tortured by for decades. Oh god, I am so sorry. I probably shouldn’t bring up the Nazis. Or Hydra. Or torture. Oh Jesus.” Darcy shoved a knuckle into her mouth before she could spout any more potentially triggering statements and send Barnes into some kind of horrid homicidal flashback.
“The Nazis were shit, but the schnitzel the omas near my neighborhood used to make was good enough to make you weep. I got no problem with a German deli, sweetheart.” Barnes reached a hand out to her before thinking better of it and letting it fall back to his side. Darcy followed the movement with wide blue eyes. “You’re real sweet, trying to protect me from that stuff, but you don’t need to censor yourself,” he continued, running his flesh hand over the back of his neck. “I’m, uh, doing better now. Not so much of a nutcase thanks to Steve and Sam and, well, time...I guess.”
Darcy flashed him a small, but sincere smile. “That’s good, Barnes. That’s really good to hear.”
Bucky gave her a lopsided grin that faded to a wince as a thought occurred to him. “Uh..I uh, have something for you though. About that stuff, in case I go a bit nutty on you. It’s rarer these days, but it does happen sometimes so...” Bucky ducked his head, hoping to hide the flush creeping over his neck and ears, and disappeared back down the hallway to his room. He returned shortly, flesh hand grasping a small laminated booklet.
“Here,” Bucky said, thrusting the booklet into her outstretched hands. “Sam made it. It’s got instructions on what to do if I...forget who I am, where I am, things like that. Or if I’m having a nightmare. Proper care and feeding of the resident headcase.” Bucky gave a self conscious roll of his shoulder.
Darcy looked down at the stark white cover of the little manual, not entirely sure if she was emotionally stable enough to read the thing right now. She certainly wasn’t going to read it with Barnes standing there looking at her with those aching, wounded eyes. Damn it, he must feel so broken right now. What kind of person comes with an instruction manual?
She pasted an overly bright smile on her face, determined to salvage this afternoon and hopefully alleviate his obvious discomfort. “Well thank you, that’s very helpful of you! I’ll just um, go put this in my room for...uh later.” She sprinted to her bedroom and quickly tossed the manual onto her bed before returning to the kitchen.
“Um, I’m ready to go to lunch whenever you are. Or I guess it’s a bit late for lunch, so linner?” Darcy cringed at herself. Why must she sound like an idiot when confronted with emotional discomfort? Why, oh why?
Bucky nodded, “Yeah just let me grab my jacket...” he trailed off, exiting the kitchen and heading back to his room.
Darcy walked over to her coat closet by the front door, pulling out her favorite wool coat and a much beloved cashmere scarf. Up until a week ago, it had been a mild November, but a cold front had blown through driving the temperatures down and allowing her to finally bust out her, frankly, spectacular winter wardrobe.
But, apparently, not as spectacular as Barnes’ winter wardrobe, hot damn. Darcy gave him an appreciative once over, taking in the sight of him in a double-breasted, dark grey peacoat, leather gloves, and a crimson scarf that did wonders for his complexion. It also was doing wonders for her libido. Seriously, hot damn and god bless winter clothing. She turned and grabbed her purse before Barnes could catch her ogling him.
“Ready to go?” she asked brightly.
“After you, ma’am,” he swept an arm out towards the door.
“Why thank you, Sergeant Barnes.” Darcy bobbed a small curtsy and stepped out into the hallway. Barnes followed behind, patiently waiting for her to lock up and then heading towards the elevator.
“You know, you could call me Bucky, if you want,” Barnes said with a shrug. “After all, I’m pretty much your new roommate for the next couple months. We might as well get friendly.” Darcy quirked an eyebrow up at that statement. “No! Not friendly like...that. Just friends. We can be more casual with each other. No need to call me by my rank, is all I mean.” Bucky gave a low groan and tucked his face into his hands. He really was shit at talking to women these days.
Darcy took pity on him, “I know what you meant...Bucky, We can be friends.” She gave him a sweet smile and a gentle pat to his forearm, fingertips lingering over the rough fabric of his coat. Bucky looked down at her small hand draped over his arm. Gentle human contact was still such an oddity to him. Sure, Steve touched him all the time, but that was Steve. Having someone touch him without the intent of causing him pain was still a bit of a revelation and a shock to his system every time.
He must have been staring for too long, because Darcy began to slide her hand away with a look of discomfort. In a move that was smoother than the desperation he felt, he gently caught her hand in his own, tucking it into his elbow like the gentleman he used to be. He lightly clasped his hand over the top of hers before switching his gaze to her eyes. The wide, genuine smile that spread across her face had his heart racing and his blood singing in his ears. He tugged her gently out into the crisp November air.
“Friends,” he said firmly, a soft smile playing across his lips.