Cabin Fever
Darcy’s eyes snapped open in irritation from the frustrating dream she’d been in the middle of. She’d been chasing after the most delicious looking burger she’d ever seen in her life, getting within grasping distance of it only to have it leap thirty feet away. When her stomach gave a very audible growl, the nature of her dream made a little more sense. Holy quarter pounder with cheese, she was starving. And sweaty.
Despite the near freezing temperature in the back bedroom, being surrounded by Bucky’s overwhelming body heat had her sweating her butt off. The guy put off heat like an electric blanket. It didn’t help that she was fully clothed and still had her thick winter jacket on. She swiped a damp strand of hair out of her face and started the process of disentangling herself from various muscled limbs. She’d just about gotten out from underneath one massively heavy thigh, only to have his arm snake around her middle and pull her back into his vice-like grip.
She was too hot, hungry, and irritated for this snuggling crap. She wiggled harder, huffing and puffing as she attempted, again, to remove herself from his embrace. Bucky gave a little whine in the back of his throat and tensed his muscles, effectively stymying her efforts of escape.
“No,” he mumbled into her hair. “Mine.”
Darcy sighed and rolled her eyes. Dammit, she was hungry enough she was contemplating gnawing his other arm off just for something to fill her aching belly. She poked him in his side, twisting in his arms to face him.
“Bucky, let me go.”
“No.” He didn’t even open his eyes. Just muttered at her and sank deeper into sleep.
“I need to eat.”
No response. She poked him again.
“I’m starving. And sweating my ass off. I’m like thirty seconds away from taking my clothes off just to get some relief, you human oven.”
The teeniest smile crept over his face, though his eyes stayed tightly closed. “Definitely not letting go then,” he mumbled.
Darcy grumbled lowly, cursing the stubborn, handsome jerk. Time for the big guns. “Barnes, don’t make me tickle the shit out of you, cause I’ll do it. You know I will.”
Bucky groaned, but opened up the cage of his arms and legs, rolling onto his back and sprawling out across the bed.
“Thank god,” Darcy muttered, sitting up and sighing in relief at the rush of cold air against her overheated body. She turned her head to stare down at her tormentor. He was already snoring softly. Looked like she’d be dining alone. She smoothed her hand down the top of one of his thighs and slid off the bed.
Once in the kitchen, she set a pot of water boiling to make a packet of ramen and rekindled the fire while she waited. She peered through the little window above the kitchen sink as she ate her noodles, watching as the sun sank below the horizon. It certainly was a peaceful place to visit, if a bit rustic for her taste. Still, it could be worse. At least she could still take a hot shower, which was first on her to do list once she’d finished eating.
Darcy tilted her head to sniff one armpit. Yeah, wow. Definitely first on the list. It was then that it hit her that she had brought zero clothes with her. She groaned and gave a little stomp of her foot. The idea of getting clean just to put on the same grungy clothes she’d been wearing for a day and half was horribly unappealing. Yeah, no. She’d just borrow some of Bucky’s clothes. Surely he had something she could borrow in that enormous bag.
The bag in question was still resting against the front door where Bucky had left it earlier. She knelt down and unzipped it, noting that the thing was definitely big enough to hide at least one body in, which was slightly morbid, but whatever. From what she could tell, it seemed to be loosely organized from left to right, starting with tools of badassery, then clothing and toiletries, followed by entertainment items and at the very far right end was a smaller black bag. Out of curiosity, she grabbed at the handles, leaning back on her heels to tug it out of the larger bag, losing her balance and falling to her ass when it finally pulled free.
She righted herself, pulling the smaller bag into her lap and unzipping the top to find...women’s clothing? Sports bras and cotton panties and yoga pants and a variety of sedately colored athletic tops. Plus a pair of sneakers, a pair of jeans, a jacket, and a couple of dark colored blouses. Hell, there was even a small toiletries bag that had deodorant, a toothbrush and toothpaste, travel size soap and shampoo, and a small assortment of pads and tampons. Unless Barnes had a tendency to wear women’s clothing that was entirely too small for him, the bag was obviously all meant for her, seeing as the clothes were all in her size and the toiletries were all brands that she used.
Weird.
She briefly wondered how long he’d had a bug out bag ready for her (and how the hell he’d known her sizes and preferences) before gathering up a fresh set of clothes and the toiletries bag and heading to the bathroom.
The bathroom was a cramped and ugly thing, but the showerhead had spectacular water pressure that could pound away the most knotted of muscles and the tub was fairly clean considering the lack of use over the years.
Darcy stood under the thunderous spray for a solid twenty minutes, doing nothing but leaning against the tile wall and letting the hot water soothe at all the little aches and cuts that riddled her body. When she felt the water starting to cool, she hurriedly scrubbed her hair and body, ignoring how the soap stung her hands and arms. She was able to shut the water off just as it was getting to an uncomfortably chilly temperature, hopping out to pull a towel from the linen cabinet under the sink and wrapping herself in the fluffy, if somewhat musty smelling, softness.
She dried herself off quickly, then wrapped her hair up in the towel while she brushed her teeth and slapped on some deodorant. She stood staring at herself in the little mirror above the sink, wincing at the ugly bruising on her throat. Lucky it was scarf season because otherwise there was no way she could go grocery shopping with her neck looking like that. The memory of Agent Dead Guy choking the life out of her floated up unbidden, souring her stomach and making her drop her eyes to the sink drain. She focused on breathing through her nose and studiously ignored her reflection, hurrying to finish brushing her teeth and then dressing.
When she stepped out of the bathroom she felt like a new, slightly damp, woman. She ran her fingers through her wet curls, trying to undo the snarls as best she could, and peeked in the bedroom to check on Bucky. Still out cold, the poor baby.
She ambled back down the hallway to the fireplace and added another couple of logs, then sat cross-legged on the circular rug in front of it to help dry her hair. She let the peacefulness of the evening settle over her. The only sound in the cabin was the softly crackling fire. So peaceful, so relaxing, so quiet.
She hated it.
She was never one for peace and quiet, so she went back to Bucky’s bag and pulled out one of his crossword puzzle books. That kept her occupied for maybe thirty minutes and in that time she’d completed five or six of the puzzles. She tossed the book aside to grab one of the paperback novels he’d brought. The first was one she’d read already, as was the second, the third book was a biography on General Patton (yawn), and the fourth and final book was an honest-to-god masters level math textbook. Darcy groaned and reached for the first book again and carried it back to her spot in front of the fire.
She flopped down on her belly across the rug and cracked the novel open. She read for a few minutes and then shifted to sitting cross-legged when her elbows started going numb. Eventually her butt started protesting the new position, so she stretched out on her side, which of course started irritating her hips after ten minutes. Finally she rolled to lying flat on her back with her book held up over her head, trying to concentrate on the words instead of the way she was slowly losing feeling in her hands. When the book slid from her numb fingers to land on her face, she gave up trying to read entirely, childishly snapping her heels against the floor and letting off a frustrated moan.
“It sounds like you’re dying there, sweetheart,” came a masculine voice.
Darcy snatched the book from her face. “I am dying. Of boredom! There is absolutely nothing to do in this godforsaken place. I need television! I need internet access! This place is the worst! Oh, don’t you look at me with those judgmental eyes, James Barnes. You grew up without any of that stuff, you’re used to living in a technological wasteland.” Darcy turned her nose up at him, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at the ceiling.
“I may have some ideas of how to keep you entertained.”
Darcy didn’t even need to look at him to know he was giving her that devilish smirk. She turned her glare on him, extending one accusing finger towards him. “You brushed your teeth yet, Romeo? Go take care of that first and then we can talk about entertainment.” She returned her glare to the ceiling, listening to his boots stomp around to the front door as he snatched up his toiletries bag and stomped back down the hallway.
A few minutes later she heard him returning from the bathroom and was opening her mouth to spout off something snarky when she was suddenly completely covered by a very large, very male body. “Well hello there soldier, what are you doing down here?”
“Gonna kiss you till you forget your own name.” Bucky gave her a positively sinful smile, mischief and firelight sparkling in his eyes.
Darcy scoffed. “That is highly unlikely, I have a steel trap mind. I forget noth-” She was cut off by Barnes’ mouth crashing down on hers and one of those thick thighs sliding between hers. He gave a pleased hum in the back of his throat when her hands slid up into his hair. He slipped his arms underneath her, one wrapping under her shoulder blades and the other cradling her head.
***
It was getting easier all the time, being with her like this. What did Sam call it? Exposure therapy? Something like that. Every time he kissed her or touched her or just being near her, it got easier to stay in control while still enjoying her...thoroughly. Or maybe it wasn't so much that he was still in control, but that he was learning to embrace letting go when he was with her, learning not to be so afraid of the chaos she inspired in his mind and heart and body.
Whatever it was, he wanted more.
His grip tightened in her hair, tipping her head back so he could soothe kisses over the bruising on her neck. Every time he saw them, guilt spiked through his gut. He knew she would never blame him, but it felt like his fault all the same. He hoped he could make it up to her with the caress of his mouth and the gentleness of his hands.
He ran the tip of his tongue slowly up the length of her neck to nibble and suck at her earlobe, his body aching pleasantly with every gasp and moan he coaxed from her. Drawing his mouth back to hers, he pulled her luscious bottom lip into his mouth, rolling it gently between his teeth. The action had her bucking up against his thigh, her eyes shut tight against the sensation and damn if it wasn't the most gorgeous thing he'd seen in a century.
Bucky couldn't help the smile that crossed his face or the way his hand slid down to cup that perfect ass, lifting her hips and pressing his thigh between her legs, giving her the pressure and contact she was craving.
When she started calling on deities of various religions, he knew he was on the right track. He captured her mouth again, reveling in the hot, wet slide of her tongue against his, the way her fingers tugged almost painfully at his hair. He trailed his flesh hand back up her body, pausing at the soft skin of her hip that was peeking out between her shirt and yoga pants. He traced his fingers back and forth along the skin, working up the courage to slide his hand up beneath the fabric, only to have her grip his hand tight and shove it up under her shirt.
It was but a few heated moments later and she was bare to him from the waist up and drowning in his touches. He trailed his lips and teeth over her, using them along with his hands to map out every inch of delicate skin. The contrast of his hot mouth on her and the cool metal of his hand was damn near unbearable, and when he started trailing that hand down her stomach to linger at the top of her yoga pants Darcy thought she might lose her mind. He was merciful and, at her express urging, did not linger there for long.
It was a beautiful thing to watch a woman come undone beneath him. Darcy was no exception, but she was definitely the most exquisite. The way her skin flushed so prettily across her chest, the shaky press of her thighs around his wrist, the way she writhed under him and bit against her full, pink mouth. The way she said his goddamn name, like he deserved to be touching her like this, like he'd earned it. It was the single most heady experience that he could remember.
When she was trembling and sated, he rolled to his side next to her and stroked her hair back from her forehead with his flesh hand, leaning down to brush his nose against hers. “You alright?”
Darcy just hummed and nodded, a wide grin lighting up her face as she arched her back and stretched the tension from her arms. She snuggled back into his warmth, enjoying the way the heat of the fire played across the skin of her back and the rough glide of his palm along her spine as her breathing finally slowed. Glancing up at him with heavy eyes, she asked, “And what about you?” She trailed a finger down the front of his shirt until he caught her by the wrist, bringing her hand up to brush his lips across her palm.
He shook his head slowly, something akin to fear in his eyes. She gave a small, disappointed sigh, but nodded, stroking light fingers across his cheek. She'd give him time. As much as he needed.
The peaceful moment between them was interrupted when Bucky's stomach gave a terrific grumble. His face scrunched up adorably. “Um, guess I'm a little hungry. Sorry.”
Darcy chuckled and nipped at his chin. “If you carry me to the couch, wrap me in a blanket, and put some more wood on the fire, I promise I'll forgive you for interrupting cuddle time to make yourself something to eat.”
Bucky grinned back at her, scooping her up into his arms. “Deal.”
He settled her onto the couch, scrounging up a quilt from the linen closet and tucking it around her before tending to the fire. With the buzz of his A+ entertainment still thrumming through her system and the warmth surrounding her, Darcy dozed on the sofa while Bucky tended to his dinner. She stirred slightly when he came to sit at one end of the couch, lifting her feet to rest in his lap, but she soon slipped back into that cozy half awake half asleep haze.
She felt him jiggle her foot lightly just as she was slipping deeper into sleep. “Hey. Hey, baby. Do ya still remember your name?”
She scrunched her face up, trying to make sense of his words through her addled brain. “What?” was her intelligent response.
“Guess not,” Bucky replied, as pleased with himself as she'd ever seen him.
Darcy’s sex and sleep muddled brain whirred slowly back to life, trying to figure out what the frickety frack he was on about. She peered at him through slitted eyelids as she considered his words. When realization dawned, her eyes snapped wide and she kicked out an indignant foot into his ribs. “Yes, I remember my damn name, Bucky!”
“Oh really? I've yet to hear you say it. Seems the only name you’ve been able to say is mine.”
Darcy flew up from where she was reclined against the couch, launching herself at him to tickle at his sides mercilessly. In between high pitched giggles and huffing laughter, he gripped tightly at her ankles, digging his fingers into the soles of her feet in retaliation. She jerked against him, kicking her legs and trying to escape his torment, only to fling herself half off the couch. Her legs were still trapped in his lap along with the quilt that pulled free from her torso, leaving her hanging upside down and bare from the waist up. She was fairly certain her breasts were doing their best to smother her.
“Help!” She squeaked, fluttering her hand towards Bucky.
“I don't wanna. I'm enjoying the view.”
Darcy growled in frustration. “Why are men so obsessed with breasts?”
“Oh no, it's not that. It's just funny to see all the blood rushing to your head. You're about three shades away from turning a nice purple.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, glaring daggers at him until he sighed and reached down to pull her into his lap.
He tucked the blanket back up around her shoulders and kissed the top of each breast before enclosing them in the blanket as well, looking up under dark lashes at her.
“Don't get too attached to them, babe. I'll probably have a reduction in a few years.”
“What?” Bucky’s brows rose.
“Breast reduction surgery,” she clarified. “They may look amazing but they're heavy as all hell and they've been giving me back problems out the butt since I was 14. Not to mention the damage to my shoulders from the evil that are bra straps.”
A look of concern passed over his face and he brought a warm palm down to rub between her shoulder blades. “If they're causing problems, why haven't you gotten the surgery already?”
“Eh, for a long time it was lack of funds and now...well, I dunno. It’s a big decision, and I guess I'm a little bit freaked out at the idea of changing my appearance so much.” She shrugged one shoulder with a self-conscious little tick of her lips.
“You shouldn't be. You'd look gorgeous in any shape, doll. But don’t worry about all that, just do whatever keeps you happy and healthy.” He brought her into both of his arms then, resting his cheek against her forehead.
She poked at his belly. “So you wouldn't mourn their loss?”
“Not really, I don't think. Just so long as you don't do anything to change that perfect backside.” His hand dipped low from where it had been between her shoulder blades, sweeping down to grab a handful of perfection.
Darcy jolted in surprise at his grip on her rear and then cooed into his ear. “So Bucky Barnes is a confirmed ass man?”
Bucky hummed a distracted affirmation, his focus on the warmth and give of her supple ass in his hand. “Love ‘em,” he muttered. “And yours is the best. Looks like an upside down heart.”
Darcy cracked up into giggles. “Like a what?”
“An upside down heart,” he reiterated. “You know…” he trailed off, pulling her up to straddle his lap so he could trace the lower curves of her cheeks, up and out over the flare of her hips and sweeping back in to the narrowing of her waist, his fingers meeting at her spine. “Upside down heart.” He looked up at her with a sweetly earnest expression that had her breaking into more giggles.
“You precious, darling man. Bless your heart!” She leaned down to pepper a series of kisses over his cheeks and brow.
“Okay, now you're just making fun of me. I can tell.”
“Maybe just a little bit.” She sent him her best Cheshire Cat grin.
He glared at her until she tilted her head at him playfully, the motion causing the firelight to accent the bruising at her neck. The glare faded from his features then, regret shadowing his soft eyes. He reached up to brush lightly against her skin, fingers tracing the edge of a particularly nasty looking bruise.
She recognized the look in his eyes for what it was and grasped his wrist in both of her small hands. “I'm alright, Bucky. Nothing a little concealer can't cover up.”
“You almost died, Darcy. If I'd gotten there even a minute later…” he shook his head sharply, trying to dislodge the unwelcome imagery. “How did he even get you in a chokehold like that? Why didn't you use your training?”
Darcy's gut sank with guilt at his words. “Ah, yes, my training. The, uh, mandatory physical training that all Avengers and close associates must go through. That training, that I am technically legally required to complete. That training?” She worried at her bottom lip, giving him a wan smile.
“Darcy…” he growled out. “Please tell me that you haven't been running around New York with a giant fucking target on your back with zero self defense skills.” His words came out clipped and sharp, barely contained anger simmering under the surface.
She gave a nervous chuckle. “Well, hah, about that...you see I’m not super into the whole ‘exercise’ thing per se and um yes technically I'm supposed to be trained for all that but I bribed Tony with cookies to sign off on my paperwork saying I did it, and before you get angry at Tony, in his defense Pepper had him on a juice cleanse at the time and the guy would have sold out his own mother for a chocolate chip cookie but yeah no never actually had any training and um never thought it was super necessary since I'm not exactly a superhero or anything and just assumed I'd be overlooked by any...potential...bad guys?” She trailed off, her voice pitching higher with nerves at the thunderous expression on Bucky's face.
“Darcy. Grace. Lewis,” he spat through gritted teeth. “Are you out of your fucking mind?” He stared at her with incredulous steel blue eyes. “Not only are you an integral part of the team, you also hold personal weight with each and every one of the Avengers! I'm 85% certain Natalia assassinated a guy at a bar that tried to drug your drink once! They all adore you and if anyone with ill intentions caught wind of that...you'd be one of the first hostages taken. And that's not even taking into account the fact that your goddamn gorgeous face has been on every news channel in the country over the last year. Did you really think that your safety was so unimportant?!” By the end of his tirade, he was breathing heavily, his cheeks flushed and nostrils flared.
Darcy had crawled out of his lap fairly quickly after he'd started his rant, scooching to press her back against the opposite arm of the couch. She clutched the blanket tighter around her shoulders. It was never fun getting a dressing down, it was even worse when you were half naked and knew the other person was right. Dammit, she hated being wrong.
She took a steadying breath, trying to think how best to approach the subject of her apology. “Well I know that now,” was what ended up coming out, and she fought the urge to facepalm herself.
He looked at her with a mixture of anger and disbelief before hauling himself abruptly off the couch. “I'm going to do a perimeter sweep,” he said curtly, heading to the back bedroom and returning a few moments later with a stack of claymores. His jaw jutted with irritation as he stomped out the front door, slamming it behind him.
“Bye babe, have fun with your explosives,” she muttered to herself and then flopped back down on the couch with a groan. Why was she such an idiot sometimes? Damn, damn, damnity damn.
She searched for her t-shirt on the couch, locating it half underneath her ass and tugging it free. She pulled it roughly back on over her head deciding not to bother with a sports bra and instead opting to find a thick pair of socks to wear because she was tired and going the fuck to sleep.
She stuffed her feet into a warm pair of wool socks she filched from Bucky's bag and stole one of his hoodies as well. The back bedroom was sure to be freezing without his body heat this time and she couldn't sleep if she was cold. She gathered up the quilt she'd been wrapped in, along with a wool blanket from the linen closet, and headed to the queen sized bed they'd slept on earlier.
She pulled the covers back, making sure the sheets were in decent enough condition to sleep in. They were clean, if a bit musty, and there were no bugs or critters hiding in the sheets. She counted that as a win, crawling between the cotton sheets and throwing the two extra blankets over the coverlet, snuggling down and curling up on her side.
Was it a tad early for a normal person to be going to bed? Maybe. But fuck it, she'd had a batshit crazy last couple of days, nearly died, had been kissed and stroked until she’d seen stars, followed by a lecture that she actually kinda sorta maybe perchance deserved. She was fucking done with this day. And with that, she closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep.