February 26th, 2017
And I'm changing, I swore I'd never compromise
But you convinced me otherwise
I'll do anything you please
February 26th, 2017
“You’re feeling okay?” He asks, on her screen she sees him leaning over his phone. His shoulders hunch, and his hair dangles around his face.
“I’m fine.” Darcy promises. She doesn’t actually feel fine. She feels like shit, but it has nothing to with stepping onto the rainbow bridge later today.
It has to do with the fact that Bucky is in New York alone, because the rest of the team had come down to see them off. And she’d asked him not to come.
“Okay.” He nods, still watching her closely. “Well, just remember to be careful. Don’t let anyone push you around. There’s no one like you on Earth, and I’d feel safe in betting that’s true of the rest of the universe.”
Darcy swallows, pretending to see something past her phone. “Buck, I gotta go.”
“Alright, doll.” He watches her, eyes practically glowing, but mouth clamped shut. It doesn’t matter. Lately, she can read it in everything he does, in every look, every expression. What he wants to say. What he won’t say, because she’s asked him not to.
“See ya on the other side.” Darcy quips halfheartedly, then flicks the end call button. The other side? Ugh.
She collapses back onto the stiff couch in the Space Center guest lounge. She has to figure this out. She can see she’s hurting him.
They can’t keep doing this.
“Jane said you would like this.”
Darcy manages to bite back the stream of inventive cruse words because she’s been working on that ever since she stubbed her toe in front of the Prime Minister. But only just barely. “Pietro. A little warning would be nice.”
He shrugs, unconcerned, and holds out one of two white and blue to-go cups.
“I love Jane.” Darcy says after she pries off the lid and finds what smells like a caramel latte. “And you, buddy.”
Pietro drops onto the couch to sit next to her with a grunt. “You were talking to Bucky.”
Darcy kicks him lightly in the side of the leg. “Do you want to lose Darcy privileges?”
Pietro’s smile is smug. “Natasha can’t catch me.”
She still hasn’t decided if Pietro is brave or just stupidly reckless. But she likes Pietro, for how hyperactive his power makes him he’s surprisingly chill. Natasha is all about people keeping their noses out of the whole clusterfuck between Darcy and Bucky.
Seriously, Darcy hasn’t been in a room alone with Steve in months. Apparently he can’t stop himself from being Bucky’s wingman, and had been shipping Bucky and Darcy ever since they broke up.
Natasha thinks Darcy needs space to make up her own mind, and that Bucky needs to prove himself on his own without a second super soldier stepping in. It means lots of quelling looks from Natasha and Steve mutinously pouting. Natasha is also running interference with Sam, who pretty much lives to be a pain in Bucky’s ass.
“Besides,” Pietro says, nudging her knee with his own as he slumps further down against the couch, standing his coffee cup up on his chest, “You’re leaving for three months.”
“Point.”
“Relationships are hard.” Pietro says after a few minutes of drinking their coffee in a comfortable silence.
Darcy snorts and turns to express her disbelief that his attempt at this was that cliched, but stops at the look on his face.
“Spies everywhere, Tony with his AI recording everything, trying to - how do you say - trying to navigate this new thing, and then there’s a mission and it feels like everything has changed while you were away.” He does this face shrug thing he can do, pursing his lips. “I am not so sure it is worth it.”
“Pietro.” Darcy cocks her head. “You’ve met someone.”
“Psh.” He drums his fingers on the couch cushion. “I knew this person before, so no, I have not met someone.”
“Do you want to talk about-“
“Darcy!” Thor smiles at her. “Your presence is required outside. Jane’s passions do not appeal to our current company. I fear the man has succumbed to sleep.”
“The vice president.” Sam breaks in. “She talked the vice president to sleep.”
Darcy tosses back the last of her coffee and lets Thor pull her to her feet. “At least it wasn’t the president?”
“Oh no, he ran as soon as she started talking refraction lenses.” Sam looks towards the window, eyes distant. “Not that it looked like running. That man is smooth.”