Grade A American Beef

Angie’s date idea was originally sparked by the gracious invitation from one of her TAs to a fundraising dinner. Never one to let a hard-working assistant down, or miss an opportunity to play matchmaker, Angie had purchased four seats to the UVa Ballroom Dance Club’s Annual Gala about thirty seconds after Darcy had confirmed that Bucky would be coming for Christmas. She had been assured by her TA that it would be a romantic event. A candlelit dinner accompanied by performances from club members, followed by an open floor for those already familiar with the dance styles and free lessons for those who were not.

She had planned for the event to be the last weapon in her matchmaking arsenal if Darcy and Bucky proved to be stubborn about acting on their blindingly obvious attraction to one another.  She was actually quite relieved that she wouldn’t need to use it anymore to push them together. Now she would be able to properly enjoy the evening with Rob. Very convenient. She did love a good tango.

Bucky was not quite so thrilled about the evening when he discovered that his current wardrobe was dreadfully under-equipped for the more formal setting of the gala. Rob had kindly offered the use of one of his suits, but that idea was quickly nixed. The two men may have been similar in height, but they were definitely in entirely different weight classes. Bucky couldn’t get Rob’s slim cut suit pants more than halfway up his meaty thighs before the seams starting giving off ominous creaks.

After that, it was decided that suit shopping was unavoidable. The suit Bucky ended up picking out wouldn’t have met Tony Stark’s standards, but the deep navy brought out his eyes and was tailored enough to still show off his spectacular build. Darcy found the navy jacket rather reminiscent of his Commando uniform and some small part of herself that would always be a teenager swooned at the sight.

Darcy was also woefully unprepared for the gala’s dress code, but was quite happy to spend an afternoon dress shopping in Richmond with her sister. Well, she wasn’t particularly pleased with Angie coming with her initially. Darcy was still pissed beyond belief that her sister had spilled the beans about her self-insert historical fanfiction to Bucky. The entire car ride to Richmond, Darcy verbally eviscerated her older sister for her betrayal of childhood confidences.

Angie took it like a champ, quietly waiting out her sister’s wrath as she steered their car smoothly down the highway. This was not the first time Darcy had launched into a full blown tirade against her. She knew it was best to wait until the younger woman had said her (often lengthy) piece before attempting to defend herself. Darcy seemed to be finally losing her head of steam by the time Angie pulled into the parking spot in front of the shopping center they’d chosen to visit.

“Well, do you have anything to say for yourself?” Darcy asked indignantly.

Angie paused to unbuckle her seatbelt so she was unhindered when she turned to face Darcy. Pulling her face into her sternest professorial expression, Angie held two fingers up in front of Darcy’s face. “Two words, Darcy: Greg. Leibovitch.”

Her younger sister instantly paled and ducked her head. “Okay, point taken.”

“Thank you,” Angie replied in smug satisfaction. The saying was true after all. Revenge really was a dish best served cold. Even if it took twenty years to get it.

“Besides,” Angie continued sweetly, “Bucky found it very endearing so I don’t know what you’re so mad about. It’s not like he found it strange and repulsive and decided to make a damn song about it that the whole school sang for three years straight. I watched him sit on the floor and kiss you because of it. Really, you should feel indebted to me for earning you that pity kiss.”

“Okay, okay! Got it. Your situation was much worse and mine turned out great. Can we please go spend a bunch of my money now?”

Angie brightened and practically leapt from the car. She made decent money as a professor but it was nowhere near the Stark bankroll. She was looking forward to Darcy treating her to a few nice blouses and dresses that weren’t limited to nursing viable options. There was a limit to how many blouses with secret-panel-boob-windows that one could wear before one felt like a goddamn dairy cow.

Their shopping trip turned out to be very fruitful, with both women returning home with a variety of lovely pieces to supplement their wardrobes. Darcy had even been able to find a royal blue cocktail dress for the gala that had a nice flared skirt to allow for dancing and a boat neckline to avoid any potential wardrobe malfunctions. It was probably best that she not flash the faculty and students while shaking her stuff on the dance floor.

Darcy’s choice of dress for the gala was further affirmed when she walked into the living room and was met with a thorough once over from an impeccably dressed Sergeant Barnes. The man rose gracefully from his seat to saunter his way to her with a look in his eyes that was playing havoc on her nervous system. He stopped when he was a few inches from her, reaching his flesh hand up to rest against the side of her neck, thumb tracing along the edge of her jaw and flicking at the teardrop pearl dangling from her ear. Her name slipped from his mouth on a sigh.  

“See something you like, soldier?”

“Yes ma’am.” Bucky grinned at her then leaned in to press a kiss to her throat. “You look like a dream, doll.”

“Mmm, you don’t look so bad yourself, Sarge. You should wear monkey suits more often.”

Bucky’s face scrunched in mild disgust. “No thanks. I prefer clothing with a little more give. Makes for better range of motion and more places to conceal...um, things.”

Darcy arched an eyebrow at him. “Exactly how many ‘things’ do you have currently concealed on your person, Bucky?”

He shrugged sheepishly. “Five? Give or take.”

“Five?? Christ, how many do you normally carry?”

“...More than five?” He flashed her a strained smile.

“Yeesh. Well, at least I know the bad guys will never get me if I’m with you.”

Something cold hardened in the depths of Bucky’s eyes, giving the blue an icy edge. “They wouldn’t live to regret it,” he menaced with a bit of a growl rising in his throat.

Darcy soothed a hand over his left arm which was giving off little menacing whirs and growls of its own. “Easy there, Cujo. Heel.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, letting the tension drain from him and bent to sweep another quick kiss to her neck. Straightening, he offered his arm to her, escorting her to the coat closet where Rob and Angie were already bundling up and chatting with the babysitter the nanny agency had recommended. The young woman was bouncing Violet cheerfully in her arms, listening intently as Rob went over her bedtime routine.

With everyone properly dressed for the cold and the babysitter prepped for the night, they made their goodbyes to Violet and traipsed out to the street to load into Angie’s SUV.

***

The UVa Ballroom Club certainly knew how to throw a gala. The Jefferson Ballroom of the Omni hotel had been luxuriously decked out in soft shades of blue and purple mood lighting with dozens of large circular tables situated around a spacious dance floor. Each of the tables was beautifully set and decorated using fresh cut flowers. It was simple yet tasteful and Darcy couldn’t help but snap a few pictures as they were seated at their table.

The dinner went very well, with both couples thoroughly enjoying the entertainment provided during the meal. Darcy noticed that Bucky was particularly attentive to the dancers, his sharp eyes following each and every move, committing the steps to memory. She kind of hoped he was planning on using those moves later when the dance floor opened up, but she’d gone into the date knowing that the only person she might end up dancing with would be her sister. Or potentially Rob, if he could tear himself away from Angie for a moment.

As it was, her brother-in-law’s eyes were practically glued to her sister at the moment, tracing the graceful arch of Angie’s neck and the way her hands fluttered as she spoke. It was a fairly common occurrence to find Rob watching his wife like this. Darcy had grown used to it over the years, marking it down as Rob’s way of committing moments when he found her sister particularly lovely to memory. There was almost always a new portrait or sketch hung in his office a couple days after these events. Honestly, it was kind of adorable.

As soon as dinner was over and the dance floor was opened up, Rob pulled his wife to her feet, artfully spinning her into a tight embrace before escorting her out to dance among the other couples.

“Rob’s got moves. Wasn’t expecting that,” Bucky commented with some surprise.

“His mom ran a dance studio when he was a kid, so he picked up a few things over the years.” Darcy watched her sister and brother-in-law for a few moments, soaking in the feeling of a full stomach and a content disposition. When her eyes slowly tracked back to Bucky, he was watching her with a wide grin, something sneaky shifting behind his gaze.

“What?” Darcy asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Nothing. Can I get you something to drink?”

“Sure,” Darcy replied, her suspicion rising further at his obvious deflection. “I’ll take a glass of wine.”

“Red or white?

“Surprise me.”

Bucky gave her a wink and a smirk and crossed behind her, fingers trailing across her bare back, to head to the opposite side of the ballroom where the open bar was. He returned a few minutes later, placing her glass of wine down in front of her with one hand and placing his cold metal fingers across the bare skin of her back. Leaning low, he brushed his nose up the length of her neck before whispering softly into her ear, “What’s a sweet kid like you doing in a hellhole like this?”

Hellhole? She thought the ballroom looked rather delightful-

Oh.

Oh no.

Darcy froze in her seat, distant recognition and a sinking horror suddenly drenching her bones. She knew those words.

“Bucky.” Her voice came out high and tight, pinched with dread. “Please tell me Angie didn’t let you read my stupid story. Please.”

Bucky sank into his seat next to her, leaning his elbow against the table and dropping his prosthetic hand to her knee. “Nope. She didn’t.”

Darcy felt the tension seep out of her. “Oh thank god.”

“I may have gone on an intel-gathering mission in the attic while you were shopping though.” He gave her his patented shit-eating grin.

“What!”

“Come on doll, you can’t dangle that kind of information in front of an ex spy and not expect me to go snooping.”

Darcy’s eyes nearly bulged from her skull, a mixture of fury and embarrassment firing a blush along her throat. “Did you read the whole thing? Oh my god, how did you even find it??”

“Super-spy skills,” Bucky replied. At her snort of disbelief he elaborated. “It was in the great big box labeled ‘Darcy’s Crap.’ And yes, I did read it. The whole, beautiful thing.”

Darcy folded in half at the waist, groaning into her lap. “Noooo, noooo, no God, why? Why is this happening to me? Am I being punished? Is this God punishing me for being a bad Catholic?”

“Yes. It is. He told me last week when I was praying at Mass, like a good Catholic boy.”

Darcy flung her fist out blindly, punching weakly at a meaty bit of supersoldier thigh. He didn’t even flinch, the bastard. He did catch her wrist though and gently pulled her upright again. He stroked his fingers softly across her wrist, a joyous grin lighting up his evil bastard features.

“Darcy, it was...better than I ever could have imagined. I loved it. Oh God,“ he broke off, suddenly overcome with laughter. “Baby, it was just so bad.”

Darcy’s face dropped into her hands. “I know,” she moaned, her face now fully red, and yes, it was definitely the ugly, splotchy kind. “Jesus, we have to break up now and we haven’t even finished our first date yet.”

Bucky suddenly snapped to attention at her words, leaning towards her and eyes wide with alarm. “What? No, Darcy, honey pleasedon’t do that.”

“Yes, I have to. How can we be in a relationship if I can never look you in the eyes ever again?”

Bucky let out the anxious breath he’d been holding, relief flooding his gut. It was a joke. She was joking. Thank god. He reached out to her, needing to touch her and reassure himself that she still wanted him. He pulled her so that she was seated sideways on his lap, wrapping one arm around her hips and pulling her hands from her face with the other.

He began pressing kisses into the soft skin of her neck, murmuring fervent apologies into her ear as he went. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have snooped. Please don’t be angry.”

“I’m not angry. I’m mortified.”

His lips twitched against her neck. “Well don’t be that either.” He pulled back, waiting for her eyes to finally meet his before continuing. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I loved it. Was it corny and ridiculous? Yes. But it was also incredibly sweet. And great for my ego.” Darcy whacked him on the shoulder at the last comment. He chuckled and caught the offending hand, kissing the knuckles one by one.

“It’s also a good feeling to know that you chose me before you ever even met me.” He smiled shyly up at her, worrying gently at his lower lip.

“Don’t get too excited. I was a teenager at the time. My frontal lobe wasn’t fully developed yet.”

Bucky snapped his teeth playfully at her neck, pinching a bit of her rear until she was squirming in his lap. “Don’t sass me young lady. Or I really will spank you this time.”

“Oh no,” Darcy pleaded, clasping her hands in front of her. “Anything but that!”

Bucky chuckled and nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck, rubbing soothing circles over her hip. Darcy rested her cheek against his head, shifting to wrap her arms around his shoulders and tapping a foot to the beat of whatever song was playing.

Bucky breathed in the sweet scent of her skin before shifting to speak softly in her ear. “You know, you got a few things right in your story, but most of it was very, very wrong. I definitely would have wanted to make you mine after one evening, but I wouldn’t have waited over a year to do it. I certainly wouldn’t have left you standing outside a smoky dance hall at the end of the evening.” He paused, making sure he had her full attention and then dropped his voice into a timbre that he remembered using as a young man. “I would have taken you back to my bed, pressed my name into your skin with my tongue over and over until you were absolutely, unmistakably mine.”

Darcy shivered in his lap, her pulse quickening beneath his lips. “I thought you said you weren’t going to tease me anymore, Barnes.” Bucky couldn’t help his self-satisfied smirk when he heard the slight quiver to her voice.

“I know, sweetheart, but I wanted to make you feel better after being such a nosy jackass and embarrassing you.”

Darcy shifted on his lap. “Yeah well I’m feeling something.” She leaned back to glance pointedly at his crotch. “Hello Private Barnes, I appreciate the salute.”

Bucky flushed and tightened his grip on Darcy until he could hide his face in her neck again. “Okay, well that part backfired,” he mumbled.

“I’m not sure ‘backfired’ is the right word. ‘Mutinied’ seems more accurate.”

“Stop wiggling, you’re making it worse.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. This must be so embarrassing for you.” Darcy gave another series of deliberate wiggles of her hips, acting as if she was dancing along to the bouncy music playing throughout the room.

Bucky groaned into her throat. “You’re a devil woman, did anyone ever tell you that?”

“Don’t dish it if you can’t take it.” Darcy bounced once more for emphasis on the last word, giving a truly evil smile at his answering whimper.

Bucky dug his fingers into her hip and thigh, hoping to stop the torturous wiggling. Darcy took pity on him, stilling her movements and patting the back of the hand digging into her leg.

“Truce?” she asked.

Bucky nodded sharply, his breath stuttering across her chest. “If you wouldn’t mind, doll,” he panted.

Darcy gave a dark chuckle, settling into his chest and humming quietly to the music. When Bucky had calmed and collected himself, he gave her backside a gentle tap, signaling to her that she could return to her own seat.

Rob and Angie returned to the table shortly thereafter, winded and a touch giggly for two people who were supposed to be respectable adults. Darcy raised a knowing eyebrow at her sister’s slightly rumpled dress and the smudge of lipstick peeking out from Rob’s collar.

“Look’s like you two have been having fun.”

Angie gave a satisfied sigh. “Rob is just the best dancer.”

Bucky didn’t miss the way Rob flushed and cleared his throat, shooting his wife a warning glare. He snorted and rolled his eyes. Tormenting their men was apparently a family trait. Hoping to save Rob from further embarrassment, Bucky took the opportunity to stand and hold a hand out to Darcy.

“Would you care to dance with me?”

Darcy blinked up in surprise. “Are you sure? We don’t have to if you can’t remember how…”

He gave her a cheeky wink. “I always dance with the prettiest girl in the room.”

“Are you ever going to stop quoting my stupid story to me?”

“No. Never.”

Darcy cursed the day she ever wrote that awful thing, but took Bucky’s hand anyway. He pulled her into his side and led her to where the other couples were starting the first few steps of a mid tempo waltz.

He gently guided her into position before pausing to ask, “Do you know how to waltz?”

Darcy nodded. “Rob taught me a couple of the basic dance styles. Can you waltz?”

“I used to. Watching the performances tonight helped shake some of that stuff loose in my head. I’m hoping that trying it will help shake the rest out.”

“Here’s to hoping,” Darcy said, and then grew silent in concentration as Bucky began to lead her into the dance. The first few steps were...awkward, with him scrambling to remember and her trying not to lead, but eventually they hit their stride. Once he’d regained his footing, Bucky was able to lead her confidently through the steps, guiding her gracefully across the floor.

It’s an exhilarating thing to dance with a man who knows not only how to dance, but how to lead. Lots of men can dance, have rhythm and knowledge of the steps, but so very few actually know how to move a woman across a dance floor in such a way that it feels effortless. It was a firm grip, a measured understanding of where the woman’s feet would fall next. A hand to the waist, not to anchor her to the floor but to buoy her, taking the burden of her weight so that she might glide across the floor with breathtaking ease. A knowledge of how to signal their partner with the lightest of touches so that the woman is never left guessing which way he would take her. With a man like that, a woman could confidently follow him anywhere and with joyous abandon.

This was a lesson that Darcy was taking great pleasure in learning that evening. Dancing with Rob had never even come close to this, whether it was due to his lack of skill or a lack of connection between the two of them, she didn’t know. But whatever had been missing, she had definitely found it now being swept across the floor in Bucky’s arms.

He led her through a few more songs, switching to a less structured sway or two-step if it was a song that fell out of the ¾ time of a waltz. Darcy didn’t mind, appreciating the break in concentration and just happy to watch the way his eyes were lit up with joy at a forgotten skill.

He gently spun and dipped her, bringing her up with a kiss at the close of one song, when the rapid fire beating of a drum set and brassy tones of a trombone heralded the start of another. Bucky’s head instantly snapped up, recognition dawning in his eyes.

“I...I know this song!” He couldn’t quite contain his excitement at the flood of memories that the music stirred in him. He pulled Darcy to him again, moving his feet in a series of fast paced twists. Darcy tried to keep up but was utterly lost.

“Bucky,” she squealed between peals of giggles. “What the hell are you doing??”

“It’s called the lindy hop, sweetheart. Ain’t it grand?” he crowed, spinning her first one way and then the other fast enough to make her dizzy. “Just move your feet like this.” He demonstrated a few steps for her and she did her best to mimic but ended up losing her balance and crashing into his chest.

His exuberance had drawn a bit of a crowd and the attention of some the instructors who had been giving lessons nearby. One of the lady instructors stepped forward, tapping Bucky on the shoulder.

“You’re pretty good at that, sir. Mind if I cut in?” The girl couldn’t have been more than twenty, short and with a sweet, heart-shaped face and brown eyes that bounced eagerly between the couple. Bucky glanced at Darcy, waiting for her permission.

She couldn’t help but laugh at his hopeful expression. “Yes, please. Before I embarrass myself further trying to keep up with him!”

Bucky pulled her in close to press an enthusiastic kiss to her lips, shrugged out of his suit jacket and tossed it to her, and then loosened his tie a bit before turning to his new dance partner. “Come on, kid. Let’s see what you got,” he said, reaching for the little blonde’s hand.

He wasted no time pulling the girl back into the dance. She was obviously familiar with the style and fell into the breakneck pace of the song with ease. Darcy watched in delight as Bucky spun and twirled across the floor with the blonde, twisting and turning in symmetry. At one point he began tossing the girl into the air in a series of moves that looked both terrifying and a hell of a lot of fun. At the final screaming trill of trumpets, Bucky spun the girl over and around his shoulder and then back down into his arms, dipping her almost to the floor, before pulling her back to standing with a jerk.

This was met with a round of applause from the other dancers and bystanders, including Darcy who was bouncing on her toes with exuberance. She’d never seen anything so amazing in her whole life and couldn’t believe that old man had so many tricks up his sleeve. Those history books hadn’t been lying.

Bucky ducked his head with a shy grin at the attention, turning back to the girl to thank her for the dance before sidling over to his best girl who was hovering at the edge of the dance floor. Darcy pounced on him as soon as he was in range, pulling him down by his tie to give him a thorough kiss.

Bucky blinked at her owlishly. “What was that for?”

“For being amazing and cute and sexy and amazing! You have to teach me how to dance like that.”

He just laughed, shaking his head. “I tried! But you foisted me off on some other dame.”

“Bucky, there was no way I could learn how to do that dance at that tempo. You have to start me out on a slow song.” She poked an accusing index finger into his chest.

“You may have a point,” he said, then bent his head to kiss her again. The heady feeling of having her in his arms along with the triumph of having impressed her with his talent was a potent mix that left him feeling giddy and a bit lightheaded. Perhaps that’s why he didn’t notice the couple that was steadily careening towards the two of them from the dance floor. The couple, who had obviously been taking liberal advantage of the open bar, made a wide, sloppy spin that made them crash into Bucky and Darcy.

The full momentum of the other people, coupled with Bucky’s heavy frame, had Darcy tumbling backwards into one of the tables which instantly tipped under their weight. Darcy slid to the floor with Bucky on top of her, glassware and china coming down with a horrendous crash all around them. She snapped her attention to Bucky, worried that he might have gotten cut by the debri, but when she looked up into his face where he was hovering over her, she knew instantly that something was horribly, horribly wrong.

***

Bucky jerked at the endless boom and crash of heavy German artillery. The neverending quake of the earth startled his stride as he ran over land, eventually knocking him to the ground. He rolled into a nearby trench hunkering down into the earth and sucking in air, eyes clenched tight against the hell around him.

They all told him that war would be glorious, that enlisting was the honorable thing, that he would be lauded a hero. He didn’t give two shits about being a hero, and, despite everything, he still knew enlisting was the right the to do, but there was nothing remotely glorious about this goddamn cesspit.

War wasn’t the pretty thing that had been painted for him. It was the constant smell of shit and blood and brain matter mixed with mud and the tangy metallic taste at the back of his tongue that he could only assume was fear. It was watching men be torn apart. It was gore and death and terror and shaking under the weight of your own guilt. But it was not glorious. It was never that.

Bucky’s eyes jerked open at the sound of gurgled moaning coming from ten yards to his left. He turned his head to see Private Nelson laying flat on his back, blood and dirt spattered across his face, eyes bloodshot and streaming. Bucky ran over to the kid, pulling him up to sitting and wiping some of the mess from his face.

Nelson was a little redheaded guy from Phoenix, barely eighteen, and the sole provider for his mother and three sisters. He was a tough kid, but scared shitless, like they all were. He didn’t deserve to be in this hell, and Bucky wasn’t gonna let this kid get killed out here, not if he could help it. He’d always had a soft spot for strays and runts.

He shook the boy, trying to break him out of his disorientation. “Come on, Nelson, get it together! How the hell am I supposed to fuck that pretty older sister of yours if you’re not alive to introduce us?”

At the taunt, light returned to the kid’s eyes and color came back a bit to his already pale face. The boy took a swing at Bucky, glancing off his shoulder with about as much strength as a kitten. “Don’t you fuckin’ dare, Barnes, you asshole.”

“That’s right, buddy, you tell me what’s what.” He began patting the man down, searching for any injuries that might not have been obvious. “I still outrank you though, so watch your language, ya punk.”

Bucky was in the middle of his inspection when he felt a warm wetness seep into the knee of his pants where he knelt in the dirt. He looked down to see the dark, rich red of arterial blood pooling on the ground, staining his pants and creeping up along the fabric on Nelson’s inner thighs. The rate of blood loss implied substantial damage to both femoral arteries. The kid would bleed out in a matter of minutes, long before a medic could ever reach them.

Choking back on a sob, he frantically searched around for something to stem the blood flow, but came up short. Nelson was quickly losing consciousness, so he did the only thing he knew to do. He held the kid’s hand and talked to him. He was pretty sure that Nelson wasn’t really comprehending any of it, but he kept his tone smooth and easy, talking about anything and nothing and pretending like the barrage of artillery fire wasn’t still raining down all around them. Nelson’s eyes stayed locked on his, his breath coming in labored gasps until they sputtered out completely.

A low moan of despair escaped from Bucky’s chest, but there was nothing left for him to do. He made the sign of the cross over the boy, sending a desperate prayer to God to watch over his soul and the lives of the family he left behind. He couldn’t look away from the kid’s eyes, they stayed wide and staring in death. He knew he should close them, break his grasp on the boys fingers that were already growing cold and gently slide them shut, but he couldn’t. Couldn’t let go, couldn’t help, couldn’t look away, couldn’t breathe.

God, he couldn’t breathe in this hell!

Nelson’s face began to shift and waver in his vision oddly, his brown eyes fading to blue and then back again, bright shock of red hair darkening to chestnut.

He blinked, trying to shake the strangeness away. The sounds around him began to stretch and bend, the cacophony of warfare shifting to a rhythmic booming that was incongruous to a battlefield and more common to a dance hall.

Nelson’s mouth popped open, shouting Bucky’s name from first thin dead lips and then plump, red ones.

Bucky!

Bucky!

Babe, it’s Darcy.

Darcy? What the fuck was Darcy doing in the middle of German-occupied Italy?

Wait, that was...she wasn’t here. And neither was he.

***

With a jerk, Bucky’s memory popped into place, awareness of his surroundings blooming into his conscious mind. He was breathing raggedly, still kneeling protectively over Darcy, red wine drenching his knee and her lap where someone’s glass had toppled down on top of them. Shattered glass was spread like a halo around them and a flurry of waiters and gala attendees were standing nearby, watching him with wary eyes as he trembled under the weight of his memories.

“Bucky, honey, are you with me?” Darcy placed a hesitant hand on his heaving chest.

Breathing heavily still, he rose quickly to his feet, hauling her up with him with a little more force than he’d intended. She stumbled into his chest, clinging to him for balance. Angie and Rob appeared in the crowd, pushing through to stand around the two of them.

“What happened, are you both okay?” Angie asked, concern clear in her tone.

Darcy nodded, keeping her eyes on Bucky. He couldn’t handle the weight of her gaze and was hit with the desperate need to escape. To run and hide like the broken coward that he was.

“I have to...I have to go,” he gasped out, turning abruptly for the exit.

Darcy’s hand shot out, clasping around his wrist. “Bucky, wait, please, just talk to me. I can help.”

He shook her hand off with more roughness than he intended, but the rising panic in his chest was telling him that he was a ticking time bomb and he needed to get the hell away from all these people before he completely lost his shit and somebody got hurt.

“No,” he bit out sharply, then took off at a run for the exit, not stopping till he’d reached the parking lot.

Rob reached out to pull Darcy into a hug, soothing his palms over her upper arms. “Give him a few minutes to collect himself and then I’ll go talk to him, okay?”

Darcy nodded at her brother-in-law, feeling numb and lost.

***

Bucky stomped through the lines of parked cars, coming to a halt outside of Angie’s car. He resisted the urge to punch his fist through the passenger side door, settling for cracking his forehead sharply against the window.

Well this evening sure had been shot to shit real fast. He was such an idiot, thinking he could do this, go out on dates, be the man he once was. One little mishap and his fucked up brain had him writhing in a flashback, scaring the shit out of everyone around him. Fuck! What if he’d gotten violent? What if he’d shot someone, or stabbed them? What if he’d hurt Darcy?

Bile rose in his throat, his gut clenching in fear and self-loathing. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t be like this around her. He thought that she would be safe with him, that he could let his guard down enough to let her in, to love her and let her love him back. What a fucking joke. He must have been delusional to think he could ever have something as whole and beautiful as Darcy. Being with her was going to get her hurt or worse, and he couldn’t live with that outcome. He’d rather die broken-hearted and alone than have her be with him and end up getting killed. It was better if he ended things now, before they got too deep. Cut things off cleanly so she wouldn’t be as hurt by him ending things.

He was startled out of his dark thoughts when the car alarm chirped and the interior lights sprung on, signaling that someone had unlocked the car. Bucky turned to see Rob slowly approaching him, a bottle of water clutched between two hands.

“Get in the car, Bucky. It’s fucking freezing.”

Bucky nodded, woodenly climbing into the passenger seat. Rob climbed into the driver’s side a couple seconds later, gently pushing the bottle of water into Bucky’s hands before starting the car and blasting the heater. The two men sat quietly while Rob waited for Bucky to finish the water. When he drained the last drop and crumpled the plastic into a tight ball, Rob turned to speak to him.

“That did not go according to plan.”

Bucky gave a sharp bark of bitter laughter. “No. Not really.”

“Are you gonna talk to Darcy about what happened or keep pushing her away?”

“I’m ending things with her.” Bucky’s chest tightened with the admission. “She’s not safe with me.”

“Well that’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” Rob said, voice calm and even.

Bucky’s head whipped around to face the other man, disbelief shining from his eyes. “Are you serious? Did you not see what just happened? I got knocked over and my brain decided to send me back to a trench in fucking Italy, watching some kid die from German artillery fire. You don’t think that constitutes a good enough reason to leave Darcy alone? What if I’d thought she was the enemy? What if I’d tried to kill her? I’m a fucking nutcase! And sometimes, I get the feeling that I’m gonna be that way until the day I die. How the hell am I supposed to subject that woman to something like that? She doesn’t deserve it. Doesn’t deserve to be stuck with me.” He slumped back in his seat, crossing his arms tightly across his chest.

“Seems to me like that decision should be up to Darcy,” Rob commented lightly.

“Are you kidding? Her judgment is compromised when it comes to me. She sees me too much as her childhood crush. Sees me as the man I used to be and not the one I’ve been made into.”

Rob gave a heavy sigh, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Maybe, maybe not, but you can’t keep pushing her away.”

“Even though I could accidentally kill her?”

“Look man, that’s a shit argument. Hell, even I could accidentally kill Angie if I had a nasty case of PTSD, and I don’t even have super-strength. You’re thinking about this all wrong, it’s not about how much of a danger you present to Darcy. Almost every man is a potential danger to most women, by virtue of the fact that we’re generally stronger. Physically, anyway. The only dividing factor between which of us is and isn’t a danger to women is the content of our souls. You got a fucked up brain, Barnes, but your soul is solid.” Rob reached across the center console place his hand on Bucky’s shoulder.

“And you know what else? A lot of guys have fucked up brains just like yours and they go on to live long, happy lives with wives and kids and nobody gets hurt.”

Bucky started to protest that his brain was a particularly gruesome flavor of “fucked up” but Rob shot him down again.

“Yeah, okay, your damage is a lot more twisted than most, but the results are the same. Flashbacks, nightmares, anxiety attacks, paranoia, depression, a whole gamut of fun brain malfunctions. Pretty much every soldier that’s seen combat comes back home suffering from at least some of those things. My step dad certainly did, but that didn’t stop him from loving the hell out of my mom and me.”

Bucky watched Rob in the low light of the dashboard, thoughts swirling sluggishly through his overwrought brain. “Your step dad was a soldier?”

Rob nodded. “Yeah, he fought in Vietnam. Have you read up on that war yet?”

“Briefly, yes. It looked like it was pretty nasty.”

“Yep, pretty much. It was a real clusterfuck. And it messed my step dad up real bad. He was only eighteen when he was drafted, just a kid, and the things he saw, the things he did...they haunted him when he came home. So many of the guys that came back from that one were messed up afterwards. For a long time, he couldn’t handle all of the mental shit, lived in the bottom of a bottle most days. Until he met my mom.” Rob smiled, memory playing behind his eyes.

“He fell in love with her, got sober for her, but he was scared that he’d hurt us, either physically or emotionally, so he kept pushing us away. Then two of his buddies from his platoon shot themselves in the same damn weekend. He went to both their funerals and the biggest thing that he noticed was how both men had pushed and pushed away their family and friends until they’d been left all alone. And the loneliness and the pain grew so large that pulling the trigger seemed like the only option left.” Rob shook his head, sorrow pulling at the lines in his face.

“It scared Dad shitless, and he decided right then and there that he was done pushing us away. Called my mom and proposed to her over the phone from three states away, because you know what he realized?” Rob paused, making sure Bucky was looking him in the eye when he drove the point home. “He realized that pushing people away, being alone, only made the demons louder. You don’t get better by yourself Barnes, you need people. People who will love you and support you, no matter what. It’s the only way you’ll ever get better.”

“Didn’t your step dad worry about accidentally hurting you, still? Killing you in his sleep?”

“Oh sure, but my mom was a tough lady. You better believe she slept with a knife under her side of the mattress for the entirety of their marriage.”

“That didn’t bother her? Having to take...precautions like that?”

“Not really, no. She always said the trade off was exponentially greater in my Dad’s favor. I’m fairly certain Darcy would say the same about you.” Rob paused, considering his next words. “If it’d make you feel better about being with her, maybe you could convince Darcy to keep a weapon on her at all times that has a little more punch than her taser. If she can kick your ass when you get a little twitchy, you wouldn’t have to worry about her so much.”

Bucky stared at Rob, thoughts clicking happily into place. “That might....that might actually work. I’d certainly be happier knowing she could keep herself safe if I became a threat.”

“See?” Rob said, cheerily smacking Bucky on the shoulder. “All you needed was a little creative thinking. You guys can hash out the details together later, after you’ve explained to Darcy where your head was at and apologized for shutting her out.” He raised an eyebrow at Bucky, daring him to contradict him.

Bucky nodded sheepishly. “You’re right. I need to go talk to her. Need to apologize.” He took a slow breath, hesitating a moment before continuing. “Can I ask you a question first? About your step dad?”

“Sure, go for it.”

“How long did it take for him to get back to normal?”

Rob let out a bark of laughter. “Never. I said being with us made him better. I never said it made him normal. He was a paranoid son of a bitch until the day he died, but he was still the kindest, most wonderful man I’ve ever known. I couldn’t have asked for a better father.”

Bucky looked heartbroken at the revelation, sinking into to the seat dejectedly. “So there’s no hope of me ever being like I used to be.”

Rob gave him a sympathetic smile. “To tell the truth? No, probably not. Your Hydra damage aside, you were still a soldier in a bloody and gruesome war. No man comes back from war unbroken. Dad used to say that it shattered a man, fighting like that, and you spend the rest of your life putting the pieces all back together. The more people you have in your life, the more hands you have to help you piece yourself together and the faster the work goes. But still, at the end of the day, it’s inevitable that you leave tiny pieces of yourself scattered all over that battlefield. Pieces that you can never get back. So you move forward with your life, make new memories and relationships to fill in the missing pieces. And sure, you become a tattered, cracked, mish-mash of a man, but at least you’re whole. Not normal, not by any stretch of the imagination, but still whole.”

Bucky stared at Rob in silence for a full minute, mind reeling with the other man’s words, before he broke. He began shaking and silent tears slowly made a trek down his cheeks. He cupped a hand roughly over his mouth, trying to hold back the sobs that were threatening to break loose. Rob leaned into him then, pulling him into a hug with a strong arm around his shoulder and a hand stroking softly across his hair.

“It’s alright, man. Let it out. This shit is heavy stuff. If you can’t cry about it every once in awhile it just makes it hurt worse.”

Bucky let out a sound that was half choked laughter and half sob. After a while, he pulled away from Rob, his tears finally ebbing. He dashed the wetness from his face with the back of his hands, sniffling a little as he regained his composure.

Rob patted him one last time on the back. “Alright, I’m going in. I’ll send Darcy out and you guys can talk things out a little. Go ahead and text me and Ange when you guys are done and we can head back home.” He stepped out from the car, closing the door partially before ducking his head back in. “Oh, and no sex in the car.” He withdrew his head only to return almost immediately, a considering look on his face. “Heavy petting is fine though.” He finally closed the door, muffling Bucky’s laughter, and headed inside.

Darcy and Angie were huddled together at the table, heads bowed together over the wine stain on her new dress and scrubbing desperately at it with club soda. He sent Darcy out to the car with a brief explanation and then sank into the chair next to his wife.

Angie leaned into his side, glancing a kiss across his cheek. “Is he gonna be okay?”

Rob smiled sweetly at his wife, running a thumb over her full bottom lip. “Yeah, babe, I think he is.” Then he lowered his mouth tenderly to hers.