Checking In
Bucky was not prepared for how all-consuming kissing Darcy Lewis would be. The woman was intense, to say the least.
Needing a moment to breath and collect his thoughts, he reached up to gently disentangle her hands from his hair, sweetly kissing each of her palms before tucking them to his chest. He inched his chest and hips back a bit, but not far enough to dislodge her from where she was still seated on the kitchen counter. He tried to grasp the unsteady stream of thoughts and sensations overwhelming him, breathing deeply, slowly to find some kind of order to the chaos she had unleashed in him. There were some things that he needed to say, needed to hear, first and if he didn’t do it now, Darcy was sure to kiss him into total oblivion.
He opened his eyes, finally feeling at least partially calmed, only to see her face shining up at him with open desire. The hunger in her eyes, the soft glistening of her kiss-roughened lips, the way the pale skin of her chin and throat prickled with red in response to the scrape of his stubble….well, he was only a mortal man.
He dove back into her, releasing her hands to grip the back of her head, his other hand coming up under her knee to pull her flush against him, using that leverage to grind himself against her. She was making these delicious little whimpers in counterpoint to the rocking of his hips, sounds that he just knew he’d be playing in the back of his mind every night for the rest of his life.
When he felt her clever little fingers dip into the waistband of his jeans, the shock was enough to snap him out from beneath the haze of lust. Jerking his hips away from her, he released his grip on her, clinging to the edge of the counter at either side of her hips and breathing raggedly into the space he'd created between them.
“Darcy, please, I gotta, I gotta stop,” he gasped out. He let his head drop down, afraid to see her reaction to his weakness.
“Is everything ok?” She began stroking her fingers through the soft strands of his hair.
“No. Yes! I just need to, uh, Sam calls it ‘checking in.’ I need to do that. With you. I gotta talk things out, doll, before I get lost in all this.” He tilted his face up to meet her gaze, relieved at the lack of judgment there.
She smiled, tracing the shell of his ear. “What do you wanna talk about?” she urged gently.
He leaned into the touch like a cat. A very large, very lethal cat. “I need us to be on a level playing field. I need to know what I mean to you, what this,” he said, gesturing between them, “means to you. I'm too fucking old and mentally unstable to be unsure of what it is you need and want from me.”
“Is this your complicated way of asking what my intentions are?”
“Yes,” he chuckled, “essentially. This kind of...relationship…I have more to lose. Even more to gain. But I have to know what the parameters of this are. I don't want to risk screwing things up.”
Darcy nodded, dropping her hands to his and pulling them so that they were clasped together in front of her. She cleared her throat, and then began speaking in a truly terrible English accent. “Mr. Barnes, you have bewitched me, body and soul-”
“I can tell when you're quoting things, even if I don't understand the context,” he deadpanned.
“Shhhhh let me finish.” Darcy placed a hand over the smile quirking up the corner of his mouth. “Where was I? Oh yes, bewitched. You must fetch the priest at once. Let us be wed and start our life together far away from this place. I shall bear you many children and you shall make sweet love to me until the wee hours of the mornin- hey! Don't you mfgmf mmfn fguh.”
Bucky had clamped his own hand over her mouth to stem the flow of inanity. It painted an enticing picture for him, though, even if she couldn't possibly be offering him those things. “If you can't be serious about this, Darcy, I can always go back to the party and find that redhead. What was her name? Sheryl?”
Darcy leveled a glare at him. “Don't you fucking dare, Barnes.”
Bucky crossed his arms over his chest, not even attempting to hide the smug expression on his face. “Alright then, be serious. Please?”
Darcy sighed and rolled her neck on her shoulders, trying to shake loose the nervous tension that was swiftly collecting there. “Alright. All cards on the table?”
He nodded.
“Okay. Okay. Emotional honesty time. I can do this. I'm a mature adult who can talk about my mature adult feelings. No problem. Ummm, so all joking aside, what I said before isn't entirely untrue.” At the surprise in Bucky's eyes, she rushed to clarify her statement. “Nonono, not the marriage or babies part. Well, maybe. Someday. But in the here and now, I care about you, deeply. To put it into Old Man terms, I want to be your girl, your only girl. But replace girl with woman, because, look at me. I am fully grown. But yeah, so I want something exclusive with you? Which should be obvious after the redhead incident. Because wow I am normally not that possessive or bitchy but that harlot really brought it out in me, you know? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You're adorable when you ramble.”
“I'm adorable all the time,” she spouted, then ducked her face into her hands with a groan.
She had worked hard over the last few years to keep a lid on her incessant inner monologue’s frequent penchant for transitioning into her incessant outer monologue. When you were a badass, working woman with minions and frequent appearances on national news networks, it was best to keep some thoughts to yourself. It was just her luck that it would return with a vengeance when she most needed to be perceived as a somewhat mature person with a decent grasp on her emotions.
Bucky pulled her into his arms, tucking her head securely under his chin. “Yes you are, Darcy.” He ran a soothing hand over her back, allowing her time to compose herself.
Fat chance of that, her thoughts and hormones were spinning at a breakneck speed through her body, making it difficult to pick up on a single line of thought. Oh hell, she decided, just pick at random and see where it takes you. “And you? What is it that you want from me?”
Bucky shrugged with feigned nonchalance. “I want whatever you’re willing to give someone like me.”
Darcy narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean ‘someone like you?’”
“Come on, Darce. I’m not exactly the cream of the boyfriend crop. My issues have issues, all shoved neatly into nearly a 100 years worth of baggage. You have to admit, I’m a risky choice. So if you want to be, uh...casual with me, keep your options open for a better...something, then I can accept that.” It might damn near kill him, but he’d respect her choice. He would always respect her choices, whatever they might be.
Darcy could only stare at him, jaw slack with disbelief. “Are you fucking kidding me? I just told you that I’m like two dates and a shared bubble bath away from being a thousand percent in love with you and you respond with that? NO. I do not want to ‘keep my options open,’ you unequivocal dumbass. Now, drop the self-sacrificing horseshit and tell me what you actually want. You wanted honesty from me and you got it, the least you could do is return the favor.”
With pounding heart and shaking hands, he reached up to hold her face, thumbs brushing the length of her cheekbones. “I want you, Darcy. I just want you,” he whispered, his breath ghosting across her lips with his closeness.
“I can work with that.” The charming grin that lit up her face and pressed her cheeks firmly into his palms sent his thoughts spinning in a new direction. With a matching smile, he closed the short distance between them to press his lips tenderly to hers, consumed with sudden happiness that bordered on the unbelievable.
They lingered there, their lips sweeping and sliding gently together, occasionally interrupted by affectionate nips from Bucky and lighthearted giggles from Darcy.
“Oh-my-god-Rob-wasn’t-lying-you’re-really-making-out-on-my-kitchen-counter.”
Darcy heaved a longsuffering sigh, searching the heavens for patience. “Hello, Angela.”
Bucky turned to level a disapproving glance over his shoulder. “Goodbye, Angela,” he grit out, before scooping Darcy into his arms and trudging down the hall to their room, kicking the door closed behind him. Angie’s delighted cackles followed them the whole way. He leaned against the door, head thumping quietly against the wood. This goddamn family, they were going to drive him up the wall. Including Darcy. Especially Darcy, who was still wrapped tightly around his middle and leering at him from beneath those thick, dark lashes.
“Soooo, is this the part where you throw me onto the bed and show me how they did it in the 40s?”
Bucky thunked his head back against the door a bit harder this time with a low groan, then, with an inordinate amount of determination, pushed off the door to walk briskly over to the trundle bed. He released Darcy to bounce softly on the mattress, but placed a stilling hand on her shoulder when she reached to pull him down with her. With his other hand, he pointed an accusing finger in her face. “You. You sit there and behave yourself. I’ve got more I need to say and I can’t do it if you keep touching me.”
With that, he straightened and crossed the room, putting a good six feet between them before turning back to Darcy. Deliciously rumpled Darcy. He dropped his head into his hands, trying to scrub away the insistent desire simmering under his skin.
“Bucky, what is it, babe?” The genuine concern in her voice and clear blue eyes was enough to settle him.
“I…I know that I had a reputation as a, as a...ladykiller back before everything. But maybe you could...if we could...take things slow? I don’t want to disappoint you, Darcy. I want nothing more than to please you like you deserve, but, but, but,” he stammered, searching for the words to describe the emotions reeling inside of him. “I just- I can’t. Kissing you, touching you is...it’s like coming home and being turned inside out all at once. And I’ve been trying for so long, scrabbling for....control, to quiet everything in my head. But when you touch me I keep unraveling and, don’t get me wrong, it feels so damn good, but it’s fucking terrifying.” He looked at her with pleading eyes, begging her to understand, to not be offended or hurt or think he was some pathetic asshole who didn’t know what the fuck to do with a woman once he had her.
He was shaking all over again and it broke Darcy’s heart into little jagged pieces. She suddenly burned with the need to reassure him, to give him everything he needed, to wrap him in a blanket and feed him cookies and straight up murder anyone who ever tried to hurt him ever again. That wasn’t a practical course of action at the moment, so she settled for using her words instead. “Babe, we can go as slow as you need. I’m in no rush. Well, okay, that’s not entirely true, because holy lord you are delicious, but I care more about your mental health than my...um, desires. So yeah. Slow. Yup, that’s us. Slow and steady wins the race, eh?”
“You’re really okay with that?”
“Yep. Now can I touch you again? I promise to keep it PG and purely for emotional comfort and not for sexy things.” Darcy emphasized the “sexy” with a ludicrous waggle of her eyebrows.
Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. “Sure, doll,” he said, opening his arms wide in welcome.
Darcy took the opportunity to hop off the bed and rush headlong into his chest, flinging her arms around his middle and burying her face into one unfairly perfect pectoral. She held him gently swaying, until she felt his tremors calm and his heartbeat slow to a reasonable pace.
She pulled back a bit to look him in the eye. “I’m sleeping in the other guest room from now on.”
Bucky blinked in confusion, not sure where this line of thought had come from. “Okay?”Darcy pulled away from him, gathering her pajamas into her arms and the pillow she’d been using that week. “Look, pal, I am a generous woman of the highest caliber, but there is no way I’m getting in bed so close to you after all this. I can’t handle that much unbridled sexual tension. I will lose my fucking mind and probably jump you because I can be a weak, weak woman when sleep deprived and hopped up on hormones. And I just promised to behave myself and not jump you...so away to the other bedroom I go.”
She nodded her head decisively, eyes glued to the door, and marched past him with as much resolution as she could muster. She had one hand on the door handle when she felt the cool metal of Bucky's hand slip around her other wrist. In the next instant, he had spun her around and pinned her to the wall, kissing her within an inch of her life. She dropped her pillow, she dropped her pajamas, and she was fairly certain she dropped several IQ points because when he pulled away from her she seemed to have forgotten the entirety of the English language. Except for the curse words.
“Holy shit,” she muttered, woodenly accepting the pillow and clothes that Bucky had scooped back up for her.
He gave a sinful bite to his lower lip before leaning in to whisper into her ear. “Goodnight, Darcy. Sleep well.”
“Bucky Barnes, how dare you, you evil bastard. I'm trying to behave myself for your benefit!” She used her pillow to start liberally applying a few good smacks about his head and shoulders.
Beneath her onslaught, Bucky began to giggle and squirm, making the barest effort to fend off her attack. “What? I was just trying to reward your patience by giving you sweet dreams!”
Darcy huffed and gave him one last solid whack with the pillow. “If you have to deny me the nookie, then you don't get to be a fucking tease, Barnes!”
Bucky raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay! I’ll behave myself, too, I promise. I’m sorry, Darcy, that was the last time.”
Darcy narrowed her eyes at him, but couldn’t hold on to her ire for more than a fleeting second. Not when his hair was all rumpled from her assault and his cheeks were flushed with merriment. Stupid, adorable, supersoldier boyfriend. She couldn’t stop herself from planting a last kiss to his supple mouth, but it was a gentle, little thing that held none of the heat of their earlier kisses. “Goodnight, asshole.” She tugged teasingly at the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled away to quickly escape the room before anything more torrid could take place.
This was turning out to be a most promising start to the new year, Darcy decided, snuggling down into the covers of the guest bed, trying, and failing, to squash the idiotic grin that was creeping across her face.
***
Darcy woke slowly the next morning to the realization that she was definitely not alone in the guest bed. Upon opening her eyes, she was greeted by blue eyes almost identical to her own hovering expectantly over her by mere inches.
“Jesus! Angie what the fuck? Are you trying to give me a coronary?” Darcy rolled out from beneath where her sister was leaning over her, giving her enough distance to wedge her foot between Angie's thigh and the mattress, effectively shoving the other woman off the bed.
Angie was unperturbed, rising swiftly to pounce on her younger sister, both literally and figuratively. “Sooooo,” Angie began, grasping Darcy by the shoulders and shaking her excitedly, “are you guys together now? Is he a good kisser? He looks like he'd be a great kisser, that mouth, geez, looks so soft! A great place to sit, amiright?”
Darcy groaned, cursing the day she was born into this batshit crazy family. “Angie, please, no. I haven't even had coffee yet,” she whined.
Angie was merciless, her baby sister's pleas falling on deaf ears. She began bouncing up and down on the mattress, taking Darcy with her as she still had a grip on her shoulders. “Darcyyyyyyyy, I'm an old married woman now, I must live vicariously through you and your epic romantic adventures.”
“Oh please, you and Rob still bang like bunnies, don't even try to pretend like you're not off gallivanting on your own weird romantic adventures.”
“Shhhh, just answer me these questions three and I'll let you pass the Bridge of Death.”
“Is there coffee on the other side?”
“Of course.”
“Oh god. Fine. Fine. Ask your three questions, bridgekeeper.”
“So you guys are definitely together now, right?”
“Yes.”
“Is he a good kisser?”
“Oh my god, yes. So good. Like unbelievably good, especially for a 90 something year old dude.”
Angie responded with a happy squeal and another shake of Darcy's shoulders.
“Stop that, you ass. Ask your final question so I can get the hell out of here.”
“Are you happy?” Angie asked, tone sobering with her sincere interest.
Darcy couldn't help the waiver of emotion that crept into her voice when she responded. “Yes. I'm very happy.”
Angie smiled sweetly down at her baby sister, finally releasing her death grip on Darcy's shoulders only to scoop the younger woman fully to her chest, burying her face into her neck. Darcy responded in kind, wrapping her arms around her sister and smacking a kiss to her cheek.
“Love you, Darcy. Go get your coffee, you earned it.”
Darcy wriggled out from her sister's embrace. “Damn skippy, I earned it. Interrogating people first thing in the morning is an international crime, I'll have you know,” she shouted over her shoulder as she made her way down the hall, where she promptly ran into a solid wall of muscle.
She bounced back and would have landed on her ass if Bucky hadn't reached out and caught her by the elbows. He gave her a slow once over before dipping his head to press a lingering kiss to her temple. “Good morning,” he said softly as he pulled away.
“Good morning, Bucky,” she replied, just as tenderly.
“Oh my god guys, you two have the dopiest grins on your faces right now. Get out of my hallway, you twitterpated idiots.” Angie was stuck behind them, a sardonic lift to her eyebrow and hands planted on her hips.
Darcy reached behind her without looking, pinching the nearest hunk of skin she could reach on her sister. She was met with a sharp hiss of pain from Angie and then instant retaliation in the form of a firm swat to her backside. Darcy made to return the assault on her sister, but the wench squeezed past them and made a hasty retreat to the safety of the kitchen.
Bucky just watched the whole exchange with sleep-dazed eyes and an amused quirk of his brows. Shaking his head, he reached out to pull Darcy's hand in his, lacing their fingers together, and led her to the kitchen and the promise of hot coffee.
Angie waited until the new couple had been properly fed and had enough coffee in their systems to be considered relatively alert before she began asking them about a double date.
“Rob said he told you about the double date. Did he tell you about the double date idea? It's a great idea.”
Darcy smiled with genuine excitement. “Yeah! He said something about dancing too. I thought it sounded fantastic.”
“Of course you did. It's like every high school fantasy you ever had has come to life. I'm pretty sure it's the whole premise of that short story you wrote.”
Bucky felt Darcy stiffen beside him. When he looked down at her, her cheeks were steadily reddening and she was sending fierce glares at her sister from over the rim of her coffee mug.
“Short story?” he asked, suddenly intrigued by Darcy's reaction.
“Oh she didn't tell you about that? What was the title of it again, Darcy? ‘My Perfect Date With Commando Barnes’ something like that, I think?”
Bucky turned to Darcy, eyebrows raised high on his forehead in delight. “Oh really? That sounds like an excellent read. Please tell me more, my dear friend Angela.”
Darcy was stuck between shooting pleading glances at him and withering glares at her sister. The glares were accompanied by a myriad of obscene and violent gestures.
Angie ignored the non verbal death threats. “You know, I bet I could find it. It's probably in the attic somewhere. It's a truly thrilling read, all about how Darcy meets a handsome stranger in a smoky European dance hall during World War II. They dance, they kiss, they fall in love, but alas he must leave her at the end of the night to go fight Hydra with the rest of the Commandos. He promises to return for her. Eventually he does. It takes many months and a grueling climb from the bottom of a ravine, but the burning strength of his love for her allows him to return to his beloved. I think they go live on a farm and have an obscene amount of children in the epilogue.”
Darcy groaned and slunk down in her chair, not stopping until she'd slid onto the floor, curling into the fetal position and trying to hide underneath her robe. Surely embarrassment this keen would imply a swift and painless death?
Bucky threw back his head, delighted laughter bursting from his chest. Wiping a gleeful tear from his eye, he sunk down on the floor next to his sweetheart, attempting to draw her out from her hiding place. “Darcy honey, look at me.”
“Nooo, go away and let me die in peace.”
“I can't do that, not now. But... really? You wrote about us being together?”
Darcy moaned in misery. She was going to fucking murder her sister. “I was sixteen, okay? I hadn't had a boyfriend yet, I was sad and horny and had a stupid crush on a stupidly handsome and tragic historical figure, so sue me!”
“Darcy, baby, please come out from beneath your robe and look at me, please?” Darcy gave a whine and a whimper but eventually peeked out from her pocket of misery. Bucky swept her frazzled hair back from her face, giving her a small smile.
“Don't be ashamed, sweetheart. It's a good fantasy. I wish that I'd met you in a dance hall. Wish that I'd been able to crawl out of that ravine and back to your arms, instead of being captured. Hell, I'd even take the farm and overabundance of children.” He grinned at her, tilting her chin up so he could kiss her sweetly. “But the here and now works too.”
“Yeah, yeah, you big, dumb softie. Help me off the floor,” she grumbled.
“Gladly,” he replied, tucking her into a bridal carry and setting her back into her seat.
“Aww, see Darcy? All’s well that ends well.”
“Shut your facehole, Angie. You are dead to me now.”
“Okay but you're still coming on the double date?”
“Yes, but only because Bucky will be there and all dressed up. He's good eye candy.”
“Preach,” Rob interjected from where he was stirring a pan of eggs, raising his spatula in emphasis.
“Robert, he's my boyfriend now, you can't keep flirting with him.”
“Look Darcy, it's not flirting. I am an artist, I appreciate art in all forms. He,” he said, jabbing the spatula in Bucky's direction, “is a work of art.”
Bucky smiled serenely as he bit into a piece of marmalade-covered toast, preening a bit under the praise.
“Yeah, okay, just so long as you don't try to draw him like one of your French girls,” Darcy grumbled.
Bucky's brow crumpled in confusion. “I don't know what that means.”
Angie leaned over the bar to pat his forearm. “It's best you don't, dear.”