Grade A American Beef

Bucky gave her exactly three days to recover proper use of her legs before he made her run again. He, thankfully, cut down her running distance to the short stretch to the front gate, which was just about a mile, and sweetly carried her piggyback to return to the cabin. It was still running and it still sucked but at least she wasn't about to die.

He refused to budge on the five am wake up call, however. He tried to explain that it was a practice in self discipline but Darcy thought that was a load of bullshit and Barnes was secretly a sadist under that “sweetheart” persona.

He also started her on weapons training, despite her avid protests.

“Barnes. No. A gun? Really? Can’t you just teach me how to kill a man with my pinky or something?”

Bucky, who was organizing his travel set of weaponry on the kitchen table, arched an eyebrow in displeasure and didn’t even look up from the Glock he was repositioning when he answered, “I’d prefer you kill a man long before he gets within range of any of your appendages. That means you and guns are gonna get real familiar.”

“Okay but what if I shoot myself?” Darcy folded her arms over her chest.

“Really?” Bucky asked with an unamused tilt of his head.

“Yes, really. It’s a valid question.”

“Well, one, I wouldn’t let that happen,” he said with a sigh. “And two, I’m not even letting you near a loaded gun for at least the first two weeks.”

“Then what are all these guns doing out? Am I just supposed to look at them for two weeks? Meditate. Become one with the pistol, Mr. Miyagi?”

“I said you won’t be handling any loaded weapons. These,” he said with a sweep of his hands, “have been unloaded, checked and double checked, and are perfectly safe for you to handle.”

“Oh. Righteous,” she said with a bob of her head and then grabbed the biggest handgun on the table with both hands, eyeing down the sight and swinging around to face Bucky.

Bucky ducked and moved faster than she could follow, gripping her hands and pushing up to point the barrel of the gun up towards the ceiling and away from his face. “Jesus, Lewis! Watch where you point that thing, woman! And get your finger off the trigger!”

Darcy watched in wide-eyed shock while Bucky gently removed the gun from her hands.

“But...you said they were all unloaded?”

“Yes. And they are. But you always treat a gun as if it’s loaded and you never point it at anything that you can’t live without. My pretty face better be included on that list. It’s a habitual mindset that will prevent you from shooting yourself or someone else unintentionally. Even if you’ve checked the mag and chamber twice, and know that it’s unloaded, it’s sloppy to get complacent with your weaponry and it will get somebody killed. Do you understand?” He eyed her intently, his free hand coming down to settle warmly on one of her shoulders.

She swallowed and bobbed a nod. “Yeah. Sorry. Don’t point guns at the pretty faces. Got it.”

She slumped into one of the kitchen chairs, her heart rate slowing back down to normal.

“And keep your finger off the trigger until you’re aimed and ready to fire. Lack of trigger discipline is a one way ticket to shooting yourself in the damn leg when you draw your weapon.”

“Cool. Cool. No touchy the trigger. Got it. What’s the next lesson, sensei?” She looked up at him expectantly as he sank into his own chair next to her with another sigh.

“Next lesson is don’t touch anything until I tell you to touch it.”

“I shoulda known you’d be a dom,” Darcy muttered, an irreverent little smirk pulling at her lips.

“Okay, sure. Whatever that means. Just so long as you do exactly what I tell you while you’re handling my gear.” Bucky tried to turn back to his assembly of weapons but paused as Darcy dissolved into a fit of giggles, sliding sideways in her chair.

“I’m sorry, was something I said funny? If you can’t be serious, Lewis, I’ll send your ass back outside to run another mile.”

That sobered her up quickly. She sat upright in her seat, spine straight and eyes focused and serious on his.

“Thank you, doll. Now listen up and pay attention.”

Bucky spent the rest of the morning familiarizing Darcy with each of the weapons he’d laid out, having her memorize their names and specs, and then teaching her how to break them down, clean them, and reassemble them.

Bucky looked on with pleasure as Darcy finished reassembling a Ruger LCP, her nimble little fingers doing an even better job than he could with his larger hands on the tiny pistol. “Good work, babe.” He leaned in and dropped a kiss to the top of her head. “From here on out, after our workouts I want you to break all these down and reassemble them. I’ll start timing you after the first couple days. You’ll be cleaning them once a week as well and then when we actually start shooting them you’ll be cleaning them daily.”

“Okay, Mr. Miyagi. Wax on, wax off. Awesome.”

“You know I can’t understand a thing you say about 35% of the time, right?”

“Oh I know.” She grinned at him, rising from her chair to plant a kiss on one side of his jaw and gently pat the otherside.

Bucky gave a small sniff, his nostrils flaring slightly. “You smell like gun oil. I shouldn’t find that alluring, but I definitely do.” His hand slid around her waist and drifted down to cup her behind.

“It’s probably some leftover Pavlovian effect from messing around with all those Widows, you dirty old man,” she teased, her tongue peeking out from between her teeth.

“What, you jealous, Lewis?” His lips twitched as he suppressed a grin.

“Uh, duh. I’ve seen Nat naked. I’d be an idiot not to be jealous.”

Bucky’s eyes softened. “Darcy, there’s nothing to be jealous of. That was literally decades ago and I legitimately don’t remember much about our relationship. You’re gorgeous and perfect and everything I’ve ever wanted,” he murmured.

Darcy snorted in disbelief and then threw her head back with an unholy cackle. “Dear God.  Bucky, I appreciate the pep talk but that’s not what I meant, buddy. I’m not jealous of her, I’m jealous of you. If Nat had ever found her way into my bed, I would not be kicking her out any time soon, you know what I’m saying?” She waggled her brows for emphasis, hands sliding up his chest while he stared at her slack jawed.

“I...I don’t know what to do with that information,” he muttered, eyes staring off into the middle distance.

Darcy patted his chest and pulled out of his embrace with a chuckle. “Put it in the spank bank and move on with your life. Specifically, move on with your life by making lunch, because I’m starving.”

Bucky blinked rapidly a few times and then gave himself a full body shake. “Yeah. Lunch. Yeah. Good idea. Food.” He marched over to the fridge, opening it and staring inside of it blindly.

Darcy watched him, leaning against the kitchen counter with her arms folded across her chest. When he still hadn’t moved to grab anything, Darcy cleared her throat. “You gonna actually pull any food out or are you still stuck imagining Nat’s head buried between my thighs?”

Bucky’s head whipped around, a scandalized look on his face. “Well I am now?”

Darcy sauntered up to him, squeezing in front of him to start pulling sandwich fixings out of the fridge. She bent at the waist, feigning looking for the mustard on a lower shelf as her rear brushed across the front of his jeans. She glanced pointedly down at him as she straightened back out. “Let me know when you’re ready for me to help you out with that,” she said softly with a flutter of lashes and then went to work putting together their lunch.

Darcy held back a giggle at Bucky’s resultant groan and the sound of the fridge closing.

“I’ll...I...I’ll be in the shower.”

Darcy didn’t even turn when she called out to his retreating form, “You need any company?”

She heard his boots stop their stomping across the floor and she could have sworn that he swallowed audibly.

“Not, uh, not this time.”

Darcy had been expecting the answer so it didn’t hold the sting of rejection that it could have. Still, it wasn’t in her nature not to be a snarky little turd when opportunity came knocking.

“Okay, babe. Just don’t get mad at me if you come out of there blind and with hairy palms.”

Bucky grumbled something that sounded a bit like, “why is God testing me today?” and then trekked into the bathroom, snapping the door shut behind him.

Darcy bit down into her sandwich around a smirk as the first low groan seeped out from beneath the bathroom door.

***

His girl was the best. The absolute best. Bucky couldn't help but be impressed with how well she was picking up on everything he was teaching her. Sure, she whined incessantly about his training regimen but she tackled each task with a dogged determination that he couldn't help but admire. And despite her apparent abhorrence for physical activity, she was surprisingly athletic.

The first day that they'd started working on her hand-to-hand skills, he'd been pleasantly surprised at how quickly she picked up the movements. She didn't have much strength behind her movements but that would develop with time and repetition. She was rather brilliant at picking up the technique of each move he showed her by the end of each session. Her motions were near flawless, though they lacked the force to be effective quite yet. Still, she was damn good at learning his trade and he found himself needing to pleasure her after most of their sessions. As a reward. Because he was a kind and benevolent taskmaster. It surely had nothing to do with the way her body undulated around his in that skin tight athletic wear women wore in this decade.

Right.

***

January quickly passed into February as they continued to wait out the radio silence from the rest of the Avengers and staying put was starting to wear on both of them, despite the distraction of Bucky Barnes’ Introductory Course on Badassery.

And yeah, the results were pretty stellar. She'd never been what could be considered “hard-bodied” but with about a month and a half of rigorous workouts she was definitely on her way to getting there. Darcy was pretty proud of the skills she was picking up and the first time she was able to get the drop on Bucky, the look on his face was pure gold and made all the pain worth it.

She chose to disregard the fact that Bucky had been in the middle of pouring a hot mug of coffee when she attacked and was therefore more concerned with keeping both himself and Darcy from being scalded to properly defend himself. He chose to disregard her cheating as well. She'd need to use every advantage if she was ever actually attacked, including fighting dirty.

He told her as much, kissing her cheek and swatting her on the ass after rising from the floor, his mug of coffee still miraculously full without a single drop spilled. Darcy was convinced it was because of some kind of voodoo magic or something.

Or, you know, a super soldier cocktail.

Even as pleased as she was at her new skills with both hand to hand combat and her increasing accuracy with a variety of supermegabadass firearms, she was still getting restless. She missed the internet, dammit! And music! And other people besides her extremely attractive boyfriend!

Don't get her wrong, she loved spending time with Bucky. He was incredible and hilarious and sweet and sexy and a lot of other really fantastic adjectives but come on, there's only so much “togetherness” a couple can endure without spending time with other friends before a girl loses her damn mind.

The combined boredom, cabin fever, and sudden awareness of all the little irritating tics that human beings possess had Darcy's teeth on edge. Bucky, of course, seemed absolutely at peace with their entire experience, staying calm, cool, and collected every moment of every hour. Like a freaking cyborg. She knew that was an unkind thought and would definitely flagellate herself for it later, but at the moment she was too busy listening to the dead silence of the cabin that was only interrupted by the soft, metallic tapping of Bucky’s fingers against his glass of water as he sat reading his newspaper. She suddenly deeply empathized with the Cell Block Tango ladies.

Darcy's eyes narrowed as they focused on the percussive movements, her ire rising with each successive clink.

With a violent huff of air through her nostrils, Darcy slapped her half finished crossword puzzle down on the table, rising from her kitchen chair and stomping over to snatch up his Dragunov from where it was leaning against the edge of the fridge.

“Where are you headed?” Bucky asked, eyes pulling up from his paper with mild concern.

“Out,” was her stiff reply.

A proper worry line appeared between his brows. “Everything alright?”

“Yup. Just feel like blowing some shit up.”

His brow quirked up at that. “Do you want one big explosion or a bunch of smaller ones? A claymore would probably be more cathartic if you need to blow off steam. I’ll need to teach you how to set it off safely, just give me a second to grab my jacket.” He made to rise from his chair.

“NO!”

He paused, both eyebrows lifting to his hairline. “No?”

Darcy took a slow, even breath. It wasn't his fault that she was going nuts. “Yes,” she said succinctly, “I would prefer lots of smaller explosions. Alone.”

His chin jerked up in understanding. “Ah. Getting tired of me already?”

She deflated a little at that, and approached him where he sat, lifting a hand to grip his chin. “Yes,” she admitted, but softened the honesty with a lingering kiss. “I just need a little space.”

He wrapped a hand around the wrist near his chin, thumb stroking over the pulse point there. “I understand completely. I was this close to murdering you last night after listening to you crack your jaw continuously for an hour.”

Darcy looked mildly affronted. “I do not do that!”

Bucky scoffed. “Baby girl, you know I adore you, but you absolutely do, and it took everything in me not to render you unconscious.”

Darcy's jaw dropped with an indignant squawk. “But you were completely chill last night! Like a flipping robot!”

“I'm a spy and an assassin, sweetheart. Masking my emotions and executing impulse control are part and parcel of that line of work.”

“Well maybe next time be a little more transparent. It makes me feel better about myself as a person to know that you’re just as easily irritated as I am.”

“So I should knock you out next time?”

Darcy stuck her tongue out at him, releasing his chin to pat sharply at his cheek before slinging the Dragunov over her shoulder and grabbing a box of ammo from the little stockpile by the front door. “Have fun with your paper, old man. I’ll be back in time for dinner.”

Bucky’s eyes swept appreciatively over her weapon laden figure. “I’m assuming you want me to have something tasty ready for you when you get back?”

“Yes, my darling little housewife. If you wouldn’t mind.” Darcy blew him a kiss and exited the cabin with a final wave. She traipsed out through the woods on a little path that led east from the cabin for half a mile before it butted against a clearing that ended in a little rise in the land. They’d been using the space as a makeshift gun range, practicing using the various firearms Bucky possessed to hone her new marksmanship.

She had pretty good aim, but she needed to work on drawing her weapon. She tended to be a bit slow on the draw, though her technique was above reproach. Of course that was when she was working with handguns and was drawing from holsters placed in various places on her person where the possibility of accidentally shooting herself was significantly higher.

Which is why she’d grabbed the Dragunov. She much preferred the large rifle that was designed to be set up and in place long before the target was in the vicinity. She liked being able to take her time, getting the rifle perfectly positioned, settling into place on her belly, and pulling the trigger after long moments of consideration and concentration. Slow and steady breathing and then the smooth pull of the trigger, followed by the pop of the rifle and the thunk of bullet lodging itself into wood.

Darcy had never expected to find so much peace and enjoyment from firing a weapon but there was something very appealing about it to her now that she'd picked up some capability with it. It might have been the focus on breathing and being mentally present, like some kind of violent version of meditation. Plus the the explosion of wood splinters when she hit whatever tree she was targeting at the time was wildly cathartic.

She spent a solid hour plunking away at tree trunks and large rocks marking the hillside. At one point she heard the sound of Big Blue’s engine turning over. She spared a thought, guessing that Bucky was headed to town to pick up extra groceries, before returning her attention to the small granite outcropping she’d been aiming at. Time eked past at the same measured pace as her breathing and by the time the sun began to slink low in the sky, she felt more at peace and the irritation that had been buzzing under her skin had fully subsided.

She packed up her gear and carefully picked her way back down the path to the cabin. The view was rather picturesque, she had to admit, with the banks of pure snow and the smoke curling up from the chimney. The smell of whatever Bucky was cooking wafting through the air added a note of further enticement and she unconsciously picked up her pace, a content little grin playing at her lips.

She blew back into the kitchen with a burst of frigid air, her hair whipped into riotous curls and her cheeks and nose pinking with the cold. She greeted him with her sweet, wide smile that she seemed to save just for him and it warmed him all the way to his toes.

Bucky grinned back at her, watching as she unloaded her gear by the door and practically skipped to his side. Before he could greet her, she threw her arms around his waist, her little hands niggling under his thermal shirt to press against the warm skin of his back. He jerked and yelped at her freezing fingers, trying to wiggle away from them, only for her to cling tighter to him with an impish laugh.

“I see you're in a better mood,” he grumbled into the crown of her head.

She made a content little hum in the back of her throat and nodded against him. “Who knew gunpowder and lead could be so soothing? Well, maybe Miranda Lambert.” She pulled back to press her cold lips against his considerably warmer ones. “When's dinner ready? I’m starving.”

“Soon.” He punctuated the statement with a kiss to the tip of her nose. “You should have just enough time to break down and clean your rifle.” He gave her a pointed look that brooked no room for argument.

She rolled her eyes but set to the task, settling on the floor in front of the fireplace. If she was going to play Cinderella Rambo she was at least going to be warm while she did it. The temperature outside was dropping rapidly and dark clouds were gathering on the northern horizon. It looked like a cold front and heavy snows would be moving through overnight. She sighed at the thought, knowing it would probably spell a night of abject misery and frozen toes.

Dinner was predictably delicious and Darcy pushed away her empty plate with a deeply satisfied sigh, leaning back in her chair to prop her feet into the chef’s lap.

“Bucky, you’re the best wife I’ve ever had.”

The housewife in question snorted into his chicken scallopine as he shuffled a forkful into his mouth. “You should see me with a feather duster.”

“Technically, I have.”

“Yeah, but was I wearing nothing but my stockings and pearls at the time?” he asked around a bite of chicken.

Darcy tilted her head in thought, the vision playing in her head was surprisingly enticing. Quite enticing, actually.

Bucky snapped his fingers in front of her face, drawing her attention to the present. “You get lost?” he asked around a droll little smile.

“Yeah, got stuck on imagining those thick thighs in a pair of real deal silk stockings.” She ground her heel into the top of one his thighs, a low growl rumbling from her throat.

Bucky ducked his head, an adorable grin creeping across his face and the tiniest hint of a blush on his cheeks. She chuckled at his reaction and eased her feet off his lap to scoop up their dirty dishes and begin the cleanup process. She hummed quietly to herself as she scrubbed various bits of cutlery and dinnerware, her lips turning up at the corner when Bucky joined her at the sink with a bump to her hip, dish towel at the ready.

They worked in tandem until Buck swept his rag over the last dish with a little flourish. “So,” he began, “I went to town while you were out.”

“I’m aware. I heard you take off in Blue.”

Bucky raised an impressed eyebrow. “Atta girl, Darce. Your situational awareness is improving.”

Darcy gave a saucy little curtsy and a tip of her head. “Why thank you. I do try.”

“I may have gotten you a present while I was in town.”

“A present?” Interest sparked in her blue eyes.

“Mhm, it’s under your bed.”

An excited squeal was all that lingered as Darcy took off like a shot to the bedroom, skidding to her knees to peer under the bed. She sneezed a bit at the swirl of dust she kicked up from rummaging beneath the bed, but her hands quickly landed on some kind of...boxy...thing. She pulled it out to get a better look at it.

“Oh. My. GOD! Bucky! Where did you even find this relic?”

His soft chuckle brushed past her ear as he sank to his knees beside her. “A real nice lady in town was having a garage sale. She said it plays music? On these?” He leaned over to pull out a small cardboard box from under the bed that was stock full of old cassette tapes, the perfect accessories to the circa 1983 boombox that Darcy was now staring at in total bewilderment.

“Bucky...I’m pretty sure this thing is older than me…”

“Yeah but it still works! Even picks up radio stations. Besides, we both know you have a thing for antiques.” He winked at her and then tugged her to her feet, grabbing the boombox from her hand and making double time to the living room where he plugged the ugly old thing into the nearest outlet.

Darcy watched in delight as he sat on the floor fiddling with the device in his lap, trying to remember the woman’s instructions from earlier. She’d been kind enough to give him a crash course on it, blushing and making a self-deprecating remark about how old it made her feel to have to teach “such a nice young man” how to use the outdated technology. Bucky had let her believe her misconception. No need to inform the nice lady that he was actually old enough to be her grandfather.

He let out a whoop of triumph when he finally landed on an FM radio station, adjusting the antenna until the song blaring through speakers came out strong and free of static. He turned to Darcy with an enthusiastic smile and a gesture to the device sitting on the floor between his legs.

“Darcy Grace Lewis, I present to you: entertainment!”

Darcy pinched her lips between her teeth, but it wasn’t enough to contain the laugh that came barreling out of her. “C’mere, old man, so I can thank you for your gift,” she said between chuckles.

Bucky rose quickly to his feet, his body colliding with hers where she stood in front of the fireplace. He scooped her close to him, mouth finding hers and fingers tightening in her hair and across her ass. She met him with the same heat, her hands pushing up into the hair at the nape of his neck, her nails scraping across his scalp prompting a warm hum of approval from his throat.

He finally pulled back to pant softly against her lips, “So, you like it?”

Darcy huffed a laugh, adoration shining out of her as she smiled up at him. “Yeah, babe, I love it. Thank you.” She nudged the tip of his nose with hers, her eyes closing briefly until she drew back with an inquisitive brow. “Does this mean you’re finally gonna teach me how to do that fancy old man dancing?”

“Damn straight. Hold on to your bloomers, sweetheart,” he said with a blade-sharp grin.

“Dude, I haven’t worn bloomers since I was three.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Well hold on to me then.”

Darcy bit into her plush bottom lip. “I think I can manage that,” she purred, her arms tightening around him and her chest pressing enticingly into his.

He arched a brow at her and then repositioned her hands, putting them into proper dance form, with a significantly larger space between their bodies. She gave him her most innocent smile, and scooted an inch closer. Bucky just rolled his eyes and went with it. What else could he do?

The rest of the evening was spent pleasantly teaching different dance styles to one another. Their recent floorwork during training ended up being quite helpful in teaching them how to anticipate the other, so Darcy was Lindy-Hopping with the best of them in under an hour. In return, Bucky picked up the Running Man and the Robot exceedingly quickly. The irony was not lost on him, but he endured Darcy’s snickers with patience and good nature, only getting the slightest revenge when he tossed her in the air, over one shoulder, and dropped her down into a dip that had her legs in the air over his back and her head swinging an inch from the floor.

Darcy’s own revenge came in the form of some good old fashioned bump and grind lessons when she happened across a convenient pop station. The dance lessons ended pretty quickly after that with Darcy seated on the sofa, pants tossed over the back of the couch and Bucky kneeling between her thighs, hands expertly teasing her and whispering hotly into her ear.

***

Despite how delightfully toasty the evening had ended, Darcy had hit the nail on the head when she predicted that the night would be miserably cold.

She rolled over, burrowing further into the covers, but it did nothing to alleviate the bone deep chill that permeated the bedroom. The poor little space heater couldn’t even begin to keep up with how sharply the temperature had dropped.

Darcy turned over once more, glancing at the digital clock and groaning at the late hour. From the other side of her bedroom door she could hear the thud of Bucky’s feet on the floor, followed by the crack and hiss of wood being added to the fire.

Right, enough of this crap. She was going to get warm, by supersoldier or by fire, but either way, she wasn’t staying in that icebox of a bedroom a second longer. She gathered up every single one of the blankets that she’d piled up around her and stomped out to the living room.

“Alright, listen up Barnes. I’ve had enough of this separate sleeping situation. I need your body heat to survive at this point so you’re gonna have to get over your fears of sleep-murdering me and let me bury my icicle toes into your warm spaces. Capiche?”

Bucky stared up at her sleepily from his prone position on the couch, blinking slowly and trying to sort through the onslaught of words he’d just been doused in.

“I...okay?” he muttered, shaking his head in confusion.

“Budge over,” Darcy commanded, burrowing into his side and making good on her promise to stick her cold bits into all his warm bits. He jerked and shot her an exasperated glance, but said nothing at her intrusion.

After about five minutes of maneuvering around on the couch and trying to find a comfortable position for the both of them, Bucky sighed and extricated himself from Darcy and the couch. He disappeared into the back bedroom, only to return a couple minutes later carrying the entire mattress under one arm, setting it down with a heavy thump between the couch and fire.

“Go get all the blankets from the linen closet,” he instructed as he began piling their pillows onto the mattress.

“Why? This should be enough to keep me warm now that I’ve got you and the fire.”

Bucky’s eyes sparkled in the dim glow of the firelight and a slow, boyish grin spread across his face. “These will keep us warm. The others will be for infrastructure.”

“Infrastructure?”

“Yes ma’am,” he affirmed. “We’re building a fort.”

Darcy’s mouth popped open in surprised delight, and then she was up and at ‘em, collecting and compiling every blanket, sheet, towel and vaguely rectangular shaped cloth item in the entire cabin.

The initial design of their fort was quite extensive and fairly sturdy, despite the building materials. Of course, it was hardly practical for actual sleeping purposes, so it was eventually taken down and reformed into more of a “nest” design. Both architects were quite pleased with the final product, and were even more pleased to be snuggled up next to the other person.

Bucky was spooned behind Darcy as they lay in their little nest watching the fire pop and hiss, the flames fluttering in that mesmerizing manner that fire has. She delighted in finally being comfortable now that she had the warmth and comfort of his presence behind her. His fingers dragged lightly up and down her upper arm, his head propped up on his metal hand.

He watched her for a long minute, enjoying the feel of her and just appreciating the moment. “You know, I don’t think anything could make this blanket fort any better. We have absolutely outdone ourselves,” he murmured into her ear.

He felt her cheek press up against his lips as she smiled. “I dunno, a nice hot mug of cocoa would be pretty heavenly.”

“I can’t help you there. It wasn’t on the grocery list so we’re S.O.L. for now.”

“Oh well. Que sera sera, and all that.” Darcy went quiet and then rolled to face him, obviously chewing on some idea or another. “Actually, I can think of something a lot better than hot cocoa,” she said hesitantly.

“Oh?”

“Yup...maybe a glimpse of some half or fully naked supersoldier?” She smiled sheepishly at him.

“You miss Steve that much, huh?” Bucky deadpanned and then laughed as Darcy began punishing him with little pinches to his stomach.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know, I know,” Bucky muttered, trapping her treacherous fingers between his hands. His breathing grew shaky and he steadied his forehead against hers as he seriously considered her request.

She’d been so patient with him, so kind and understanding. And never pushed him, let him take the lead with every step of their relationship. He could do this, couldn’t he? Hell it should be easy, just strip bare for her, let her look at him, touch him. She deserved to get what she wanted. And maybe he did too, because of course he wanted to be able to let her look at him, to touch him. But that level of intimacy, letting her give him pleasure, was a tad daunting, especially when he thought about all the things he’d done in his life that made him entirely unworthy of her gentle little hands on him. Even before he’d become the Soldier, he’d done some damn horrific things as a soldier for the U.S. Army and then again as a Commando.

But by some unfathomable amount of luck, she seemed to want him. Despite his past and his sins, she wanted him all the same and Darcy was a dame that deserved every damn thing that she ever wanted in her life. And he absolutely wanted to be the one to give her those things. All of them. For as long as she’d let him.

So he took a deep breath, closed his eyes tight, and nodded against her. “Okay…” he said softly, and then again more firmly, “Okay.”

“Really?” she squealed, delight and surprise shining from her eyes, making her look just the teeniest bit unhinged.

“Yes, you sex-crazed lunatic. I’ll let you get a look at the goods. Might even let you touch if you can be a good girl and sit still and quiet while I do this.”

Darcy hastily jerked her head in a nod, making the motion of zipping up her lips. Bucky leaned down to drop a kiss to her sealed lips and then disentangled himself from the nest, rising to stand in front of the fireplace, his back to her and bracing himself against the mantle with both hands.

Darcy watched as he took a shuddering breath, his head hanging down between his outstretched arms until he suddenly dropped them, his fingers going to the hem of his shirt and pulling it quickly up and over his head. The fabric dangled from his fingers for a second and then his hand seemed to spasm, clenching and then flexing, releasing the thermal shirt to drop to the hardwood floor.

He paused in his undressing, forcing deep, even breaths through his chest. With his back to her and standing in front of the only light source in the room, he was cast mostly in shadow but the line of tension between his shoulders was still visible and so tight that Darcy worried he might snap and break apart. She desperately wanted to go to him and soothe him with her touch, but she would keep still unless he asked for her, so she pulled the blankets tighter around her and remained sitting cross legged on the mattress, her back planted solidly against the base of the couch.

Even shadowed and despite his obvious discomfort, she could see how beautifully sculpted his back was, the ropes of muscles crisscrossing beneath smooth skin, broken only where the joint of his metal arm was violently grafted to his back and shoulder. The wicked scarring did nothing to diminish the beauty of him. If anything, it only heightened her desire to touch him and she dug her fingers into her thighs to keep from reaching for him.

He was still for a moment more and then he turned to face her. He kept his head ducked, his overgrown hair having gotten just long enough to hang in his eyes and curl slightly past his ears. Darcy had the fleeting thought that she’d need to cut his hair soon and then all thought of any kind was swept from her mind when his fingers went to the drawstrings of his pajamas pants. He undid the ties with slow, but precise movements and then tucked his thumbs into the waistband and shoving them down over his hips to fall to his ankles, leaving him bare to her. He did an awkward little shuffle to step out of them and then finally raised his eyes to meet hers.

Darcy let out the breath that she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, her eyes breaking from his to flit over every plane of his body and then back again to the piercing blue of his gaze. She’d seen several naked men before, but she’d never seen a man this bare. There was a vulnerability to his nakedness, in the way he held himself and the shine of his eyes, like he wasn’t just showing her his skin, but cracking himself open and letting her look at all the darkness of him, the sins that had been written across his skin for nearly a hundred years. He broke her heart and made it beat and swell all in the same breath and she choked on something that was half sob, half sigh, her arms unfolding to reach out towards him to beckon him closer.

Bucky came to her without hesitation, sinking to his knees on the mattress in front of her and letting himself fall into her embrace. Her arms looped up around his shoulders, squeezing him tight as she muttered soft words of comfort and tenderness to him and he thought maybe this was what it felt like to be loved by a woman, really loved, but shied away from the thought before it could take root too deeply. He couldn’t risk being wrong about that and she hadn’t said the words so he wouldn’t assume...but it felt an awful lot like love. And he knew he was in love with her, his kind, funny, shit-stirring little hellion. He’d come to that conclusion slowly and then all at once during the last couple months and now the words pressed and bounced on his tongue, but he snapped his teeth over them and swallowed them back. Not now. Not yet.

“Bucky,” her soft voice murmured in his ear. “You seem to be thinking pretty hard about something...care to share with the class?”

He clamped down on the panic of being outed and answered with what was only half a lie. “Not sure what to do next.” He turned to hide his face in the soft crook of her neck and shoulder, tightening his arms where they were wrapped like steel bands around her back. He felt feather light touches of fingertips along his spine and shivered at the contact.

“I may have some thoughts on that, actually. If you wouldn’t mind handing over the reins a bit?’

The fingers at his back kept their languid stroking, but the heat lacing her voice was starting to blend with her touch and sparking a rather pronounced reaction from his body. “I trust you, baby girl,” he eventually replied on a sigh. “What did you have in mind?” He lifted his head from her shoulder to meet her eyes, momentarily losing himself in the way the dancing firelight reflected in the depths of those wide, honest eyes that had become so captivating to him. God, he loved her.

She leaned into him, closing the scant few inches between their mouths to kiss him deeply and gently. She pulled back with a slow, lazy grin, eyes still half closed as if she was savoring the very taste of him. Her eyes fluttered open suddenly, piercing him with wicked intent. “Lay back, please.” She loosened her grip on him, placing her hands on his shoulders and guiding him back and down onto the mattress.

He lay back obediently, trying to remember how to do that breathing thing that humans needed to live. It was a damn hard thing to remember when a woman as beautiful as his Darcy was sitting next to him, eyeing him up and down with a sly little tilt to her head like she was envisioning all the ways that she was going to devour him. She sat tilted to one side, her weight balanced on one hip and the palm she had planted firmly into the mattress. Her other hand was free to wander along his body in haphazard loops and swirls, the pattern chaotic and dizzying and utterly arousing. His stomach shivered with anticipation when she swept her middle finger in a lazy circle around his belly button and then in smaller, successive circles following the trail of hair beneath it.

When her hand palmed the length of him, he knew it was coming, but that did nothing to lessen the shock to his system. He jerked and a helpless moan pulled from his throat at her touch. He felt her lower herself to his side, snuggling close to him and propping her head on her elbow.

“Is this okay?” she whispered.

His eyes, which he must have closed at some point, snapped open to see her staring down at him intently, her teeth worrying at her full bottom lip. “God, yes,” was the only coherent response he could come up with before he darted his metal hand into her hair to pull her to him so he could kiss her deeply. Her soft lips parted for him, her tongue darting into his mouth to stroke along his in time to the long, slow strokes she was making with her hand. He groaned into her, his hips snapping up off the mattress to meet her hand.

He could feel the triumphant little smirk she was wearing before he could see it and for once in their relationship he did not give a flying fuck that she was one-upping him and had no desire to compete with her. Honestly, he had no desire to do anything except lay there and let her stroke him until his eyes rolled back in his head and he either died, or came, or both.

Darcy had other plans however, which became abundantly clear to Bucky when she started kissing a wet trail down his neck, to his chest, and then over the soft flesh of his abdomen. When the light bulb went off for him about her intentions, he very nearly had a heart attack. At the very least he had some kind of out of body experience that culminated with the first hot, wet swirl of her tongue over him. It was all downhill from there. He lost all composure and semblance of dignity as she brought him to a shaking, pleading mess of a man within seconds. And he could not have been happier about it. Her mouth as it worked around him had him calling her name with a hoarse shout and coming hard in what was, to be honest, an embarrassingly short amount of time. She didn’t seem to mind though, gracing him with a satisfied smirk.

His head fell back against the mattress, breathing hard as his throat worked, trying to find his voice again. He focused on calming his breathing, releasing his death grip on the mattress on either side of him, barely registering the fact that his fingers had definitely torn through the fabric at some point.

“Darce...that was...you...I... oh my god,” he muttered incoherently when he’d finally regained some control over his breathing. He still wasn’t making any damn sense, but at least he was capable of speech again.

A happy little chuckle bubbled up from Darcy’s throat and she planted a smacking kiss to his cheek. “Glad you had a good time, buddy.”

Bucky responded with a dazzling smile that was only slightly dampened by the fact that he couldn’t seem to keep his eyes open. “Jus’...give me a second to...calm down and then I’ll take care of you sweetheart,” he muttered, rolling to his side to cuddle up to her, burying his nose into her neck and insinuating a heavy thigh between hers.

She chuckled and threw her arm around him, her fingers dangling to sweep back and forth over his spine. “Oh no you don’t, Buck. It’s four in the morning and I’m exhausted. We’re both going to sleep.”

Bucky made a soft whimper of protest into her skin but Darcy shook her head. “Go to sleep, Bucky. I promise I’ll still be here in the morning,” was her soft reply.

He huffed a deep, slow breath into her neck before reaching behind him to throw a few blankets around them both, acquiescing to her better judgement and the post-coital sleepiness that was settling into his bones. She’d promised she’d be there in the morning.

The last thought he had before sleep overtook him was that he very much wanted to someday hear her promise to be there for every morning for the rest of his life.