Bygone

Steve elbows her gently during church that week. All Darcy can think is thank Thor Ms. Howitz is Jewish and won’t be anywhere near the Catholic service, or she would have seen that.

Straightening in the pew she darts a quick look down past Rebecca to see if Mrs. Barnes had seen her nodding off. Mrs. Barnes’ steely look pretty much drills Darcy back into the uncomfortable wooden bench.

“Damn.” Darcy mutters.

“Miss Lewis.” Steve chides teasingly out of the corner of his mouth. If she’d been on his left side he wouldn’t have heard - he’s almost completely deaf in that ear. His right ear is apparently an over-achieving snitch though.

“Darcy.” She corrects, almost out of habit, then snaps her mouth shut at the tightening of Mrs. Barnes’ lips.

After church she more than happily lets Rebecca drag her away to visit the Prescotts. She notices Steve is only too happy come along, no doubt avoiding Mrs. Barnes.

“If Martha has half a heart, she’ll have had the baby.” Darcy tells him as he cups her elbow. Rebecca holds her other hand, tugging her along. Mrs. Barnes loves babies, and if her friend Mrs. Chatham’s daughter had finally had her baby, maybe Mrs. Barnes would be distracted.

“I don’t think Martha Vangor’s baby cares about getting us out of trouble for talking during mass. Somehow.” Steve says, leaning closer to be heard.

She ends up standing to the side of the church steps with Steve while Rebecca and John flirt a few feet away. John’s pale golden hair glints brightly in the sun. Darcy can see John’s mother, Mrs. Prescott, watching them every once and a while.

“She wanted better for John.” Steve says, leaning back against the base of a pillar, his head tipped to the side.

Darcy moves to lean next to him, on his right side. “What?”

“Mrs. Prescott. She tried to set him up with Eleanor Winters all last year. She lives up on Water Street, and her father manages an office.”

“Better than Rebecca?” Darcy asks, looking over towards the couple. Rebecca’s hair is pinned back carefully, painstakingly replicated from a magazine picture Rebecca had stopped by the stand to see every day this week to memorize. Her dress, while worn and a bit out of style, is in near-perfect condition.

Not to mention that Rebecca has worked for Mr. Prescott for four full years, sometimes staying late after her nine hour shifts or bringing work home. Or that Rebecca is clearly head over heels for John, and he feels the same. Or that in addition to be a hardworker and loyal employee, and dedicated to John, Rebecca is smart and kind and good.

“Couldn’t find better.” Steve agrees quietly. “I think she’s starting to figure it out.”

Darcy glances over at Steve wonderingly. Having grown up thick as thieves with Bucky, he would have had plenty of time to fall for someone so sweet, kind and pretty as Rebecca.

Rebecca practically bounces back over to them, clutching John’s hand. “We’re invited to Ruth’s birthday party this afternoon!”

“It’s just drinks and cake.” John says, smiling down at Rebecca. Darcy thinks these two are going to give her cavities, they’re so sweet.

“You’ll come, right?” Rebecca grabs Darcy’s hand and squeezes, but she’s looking at Steve.

“Oh. I don’t know, Becks.” Steve hedges, his hand coming up to rub at the back of his neck.

“Don’t make me go by myself.” Darcy pinches his arm. No way was she going to this shindig where no doubt Rebecca would be distracted by John. Darcy would probably do something horrifying like helping herself to the punch or sitting facing east or something, if left to her own devices.

“Steeeeeve!” Rebecca abandons Darcy’s hand and goes for Steve’s. “You know Ruth and Evelyn too!”

Ruth and Evelyn are some of John’s apparently legion sisters. There’s also Agnes, Marion, Katherine, Gladys, and Geraldine.

“Fine. I’ll go.” Steve acquiesces.

“I’ll make your acceptance sound a bit more enthusiastic than that, shall I, Rogers?” John asks, his tone dry.

“Oh, stop.” Rebecca grins impishly up at him.

Hours later Darcy is standing in a pretty backyard, drinking lemonade sweetened with plenty of sugar and staring a bit in disbelief. There is a crank record player and there is dancing. Real dancing. Young people choosing to dance, all on their own.

She stands next to Steve and avoids eye contact with all of the dedication of a girl buying her first box of tampons from the cute cashier. Darcy blanches with sudden horror. What fresh hell would it be when she got her period?

“Darcy?” Steve asks quietly. He reaches forward, hesitates, and withdraws his hand.

“Just realized something.” Darcy tries to shake it off. She’ll ask Rebecca tonight. One thing about sharing a tiny bed with someone, awkward takes a mortal hit early on.

“You can dance if you want.” Steve offers, looking straight ahead.

“I don’t know how to dance. Not like this anyway.” She looks over the group in the middle of the yard, laughing and spinning. Rebecca is in the thick of it, cheeks flushed and eyes bright with happiness.

Darcy could see why Steve hadn’t wanted to come. Ruth is his age, and had been in his year at school. She’s newly engaged and very close with her closest sister in age, Evelyn. The two Prescott sisters had all but ignored Steve’s presence, passing him over for the other male guests without so much as a greeting.

Marion, the youngest Prescott sister at eighteen, is the only kind one present as far as Darcy is concerned. She’s also the most popular, constantly in demand on the dance floor.

“I could teach you, if you want.” Steve’s ears are bright red.

“Here?” Darcy squawks.

“No.” He shakes his head. “After dinner some night. At your apartment. Rebecca can help, she’s the best dancer in the neighborhood.”

“I can help what?” Rebecca asks, slightly out of breath. She’s alone, so Darcy scans the party for John. He’s preparing two glasses of lemonade over at the buffet table.

“Teach Darcy to dance.”

And that sealed it. Rebecca hadn’t let it go, stating that it was even more important than being able to sew. Then Mrs. Barnes had gotten in on it, saying she’d like to see young people dancing.

So Steve and Darcy danced in the small living room while Mrs. Barnes and Rebecca traded off cranking their record player. Rebecca gave Darcy advice, sometimes stepping into Steve’s arms herself to demonstrate. Mrs. Barnes focused on Steve, correcting his arm, straightening his elbow, tapping his spine.

It turned out that Steve knew how to dance in theory, but had never done so in practice.

There were a lot of colliding feet, and once Darcy almost tipped over but Steve’s arm banded around her, keeping her upright. It reminds her that he carried her here from the alley, and that he’s stronger than he looks.

After a long night spent nearly avoiding each other’s feet, Darcy is exhausted when she crawls into bed with Rebecca. Her hair is wrapped around curlers and tied with a kerchief since it’s her night and they trade off.

“I think Steve is sweet on you.” Rebecca whispers, turned to face Darcy. Her hair is braided back, Darcy’s only contribution in the hair department.

“Steve?” Darcy asks in surprise, glancing reflexively to the window. They can see the glow of Steve’s lamp from his window across the alley.

Rebecca gasps and sits up with a scowl. Cold air invades Darcy’s warmth and she reaches up to drag Rebecca back into place. “What’s wrong with Steve?!”

“Nothing’s wrong with Steve!” Darcy hisses, worried Rebecca’s loud question might have carried through the thin walls to Mrs. Barnes’ room. “He’s just so...good.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” Rebecca asks, resituating the covers, her face pillowed next to Darcy’s. “I know he’s... smaller than the average-“

“Why would he be interested in me?” Darcy interrupts. “I curse in church!”

And while Mrs. Barnes hadn’t heard particularly what Darcy had said, during her dressing down she’d seemed to be able to see in Darcy’s freaking soul that she didn’t know the half of it. She’d asked if Darcy shouldn’t take over the dishes for the week and Darcy had meekly agreed.

“Darcy.” Rebecca giggled.

“You should hear what I say in my head!” Rebecca only giggles more. Darcy looks at the wall separating them from Mrs. Barnes, but the older woman’s snores continue. “Fuck.”

Rebecca’s eyes go wide and her hand comes up to clamp over Darcy’s lips.

“Fshee?” Darcy asks, her words muffled by Rebecca’s hand, which is promptly removed. “Not the gal for Steve Rogers.”

“Oh, like he’s an angel.” Rebecca whispers. “We both know better than that.”

“Uh, have you seen those eyelashes?” Darcy sighs dramatically. “Which go with those eyes?”

Rebecca squeals and it’s Darcy’s turn to cover her friend’s mouth.

“Shhhhh!” Darcy hisses.

“You are sweet on him! I knew it!”

“On Steve? Who wouldn’t be?” Darcy asks. Steve, who waits everyday outside her work without fail, even though Darcy had learned the place that he works on Mondays only is not, in fact, just around the corner. Steve who came home with a busted lip and a black eye four days ago only to have old Mr. Grant stopping by with a loaf of raisin bread to thank him for standing up for his granddaughter.

“None of the girls here can see past a pair of broad shoulders. Half the neighborhood is swooning over Fred Banks, and he’s a complete bully.” Rebecca’s smile dims. “There was one girl, Bucky found her. I thought maybe... but she didn’t stick around.”

“I was pretty sure you two were destined for each other actually, you’re both so good.”

Rebecca rolls her eyes, opens her mouth, then shuts it again. Darcy’s heart sinks, thinking that maybe Rebecca does hold a candle for Steve after all. Which shouldn’t matter, because Darcy has no claim on him at all.

“Fuck.” Rebecca whispers, then grins victoriously though her eyes are as wide as half dollars. “There. Now I’m just as unsuitable.”

“Your mother is going to be able to see this. We are so dead.”

“We are so dead.” Rebecca echoes teasingly, apparently another saying that hasn’t quite made it big yet. “I happen to think we’re golden.”