Chapter Text
Her brain was trying its damndest to push through her eye sockets. At least, that’s what the unforgiving pounding in her head felt like, but maybe that was the dramatic flair her mom always used to warn her about.
Fuck.
Her mom.
Darcy hadn’t even opened her eyes yet, but she could already feel them filling with tears.
This wouldn’t do. She wouldn’t blubber anymore about shit she couldn’t change. Hell, if anything, Darcy had gotten the thing most desired by anyone who had abruptly lost a loved one: the chance to say goodbye. She just had to keep telling herself that she was lucky. Repeat it often enough, and maybe she’d believe it.
A grumbling snore from above her had Darcy finally opening her eyes, steadfastly ignoring any moisture that happened to roll down her cheeks. Angling her head, she looked up the warm chest under her to find Bucky, softly breathing into the ends of her long hair, still asleep. It was rare for her to wake before him. They’d been in Asgard for a couple of months, sharing a bed throughout all that time, and though she awoke every morning tangled up in Bucky, she could count on one finger the number of times she’d woken first.
Which was a shame because, Jesus, was Bucky pretty while he slept. He was pretty when he was awake, obviously, but that he trusted her enough to sleep in her presence after all he’d experienced? That lent something to the overall picture that both broke and bolstered her heart.
Also, his bedhead was nine kinds of hot.
“You know,” Bucky mumbled, “You’re maybe the only person who’s seen the Winter Soldier sleeping and lived to tell the tale.”
Chuckling lightly, Darcy shifted up, bringing her body flush with his by hitching a knee over him, getting comfortable as she propped her chin and folded hands above his heart. She didn’t miss the beat that heart skipped nor the way his metal hand came to rest on her bent leg, pulling it slightly tighter around his hip. For the first time since waking up, the pounding was not in her head. It was base, to be sure, but as long Bucky didn’t mind, Darcy was okay with their habit of using the tension between them as a distraction. Judging by how hard his hand was gripping her thigh, Bucky was more than okay with the practice.
“You say the most romantic things,” she sighed, moving to tuck his hair behind an ear.
“Oh, I’ve got moves,” Bucky said, and then surprised her by pulling her thigh over a bulge that Darcy had gotten very good at pretending not to notice. At the sudden escalation, a small beat of nerves made itself known in Darcy’s gut, but Bucky was rolling her off him a moment later and pressing a sweet kiss to her forehead.
“But now’s not the time for those moves,” he continued, sitting up and discreetly moving a fur over them, hiding anything lower than his navel from view, “This is maybe a dumb question, but how are you feeling?”
Darcy was still in a bit of a stupor from how far Bucky was apparently alright with taking their game and the following implications so answered with a curt, “Fine.”
Bucky frowned and pulled her up to lean against the headboard, facing him. “Fine?” he repeated dubiously.
“Hm?” Darcy asked, wondering exactly what else Bucky would be okay with doing. Bucky seemed to realize the source of her distraction, likely due to the way Darcy was now stroking his pectorals.
Laughing somewhat smugly, he rolled his eyes and stilled her wandering hand. “Come on, Darce, my eyes are up here. I’m trying to be serious.”
Chastened, Darcy focused on his face, but if he expected her to be embarrassed, then he had another thing coming. “Trying to be serious? Sure, trying to be seriously attractive and distracting.”
The slow grin that lit up Bucky’s face only further muddled her senses.
“I don’t have to try for that, doll,” Bucky drawled, cocking a brow at her.
Luckily, that broke the spell, and Darcy couldn’t help the punch she gave his shoulder. For his part, Bucky didn’t stop grinning as he chimed, “There’s my girl.”
Darcy returned his grin and realized quickly that, despite the sadness she still felt over her mom, she hadn’t been lying earlier. She was fine. Or rather, she would be fine, she thought as she snuggled back into Bucky. He accepted her embrace like he always did, immediately and with his whole body, and whispered into her neck, “You know you can talk to me, right? It doesn’t always have to be you being strong. That’s not fair, and I wouldn’t want that. I can be strong, too, especially if I’m being strong for you.”
“I know,” Darcy whispered back, respecting the fragility of the moment, “I know I can talk to you and that you can be strong, Bucky.”
“Jane told me that you saw your mom.”
Darcy burrowed deeper into his arms before answering.
“Mephisto released her soul,” Bucky made to interrupt, but she kept on over him, sure that the only way she’d get this out was all at once, “Her soul had been in Hell. That’s what happens to the souls Mephisto collects, they go to his Hell world… Odin told me once that it’s not like the Christian Hell, but it still can’t be pleasant, right? I mean, it’s Hell, and that’s where my mom’s been for…” Darcy choked on a sob.
Bucky stroked her hair, still holding her tight, but seemed to understand that she didn’t want him to speak until she was done.
“She seemed okay, though, exactly like I remember her except she was dead. Mom told me… She said she was proud of me, that she’d heard about the things I’d done, and was proud of me. She said that… that she would… she’d do it all again! She’d make the deal and give her soul up and die all again!” Darcy was hysterical, and as much as she hated it, she knew she could fall apart here with Bucky in their bed. He’d hold her together.
And that’s exactly what he did.
“She’d do it again because she got you out of it,” Bucky soothed, wiping the tears from her hot cheeks, “She’d do it again because she got you, Darce.”
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Jane was in the deepest level of the palace’s archives, tracking down a translation of an account from an experiment done with the Tesseract by some of the earliest Asgardians, when a strong hand on her back startled her. In Jane’s defense, her volatility was well known throughout Asgard, with many a joke about the raging Odinson having met his match filling the alehouses of Asgard, and so her reaction to a hand suddenly touching her in the dark should be excused.
As the All-Father rubbed his cheek from where she had landed a solid right hook in her surprise, Jane distantly thought that she was three for four in smacking Asgard’s royal family. Most people would be quaking in their stylish yet affordable boots after having punched the King of Asgard, but Jane, well, Jane was not most people.
“I’d say I was sorry, but you shouldn’t sneak up on women who think they’re alone, your highness,” Jane said, moving to mark her place on her scroll before giving Odin her full attention.
“Quite true,” Odin agreed gamely with a spark in his eyes that Jane recognized, having seen it often in Thor’s own blue gaze: amused approval, “I merely wished to know how your work has progressed. The scribes have been giving excellent reports and largely credit your work.”
Whatever Jane had expected Odin to say, it was not that. Aside from his general prejudices against any race other than his own, Thor had also spoken of his father’s opposition to her and Thor’s love. Odin’s seeming disapproval did not bother Jane personally. She’d faced too much disapproval from old white dudes in her life to start letting it bother her now on principle, but she knew it upset Thor. For him, she had tried to be nice and pleasant while on Asgard. Not that Jane thought she was generally unpleasant or rude, but as Darcy lovingly teased her, Jane was not a great socializer. Hearing Odin acknowledge her work, perhaps even compliment it, was both surprising and pleasing.
“The scribes have been really welcoming,” Jane began, “It’s been hard to tear myself away from the archives, truth be told. There’s so much to learn.”
“Thor and Princess Darcy have often commented on your determination and single mindedness in your work. The Princess swore to me there was no beast so fierce as yourself in pursuit of knowledge,” Odin ran a finger along his jaw where her fist had connected minutes before, “I should be happy that only your fist struck me, I suppose.”
“It’s because I was only reading. Had I been doing my own research, I might have taken your other eye,” Jane baited him, curious how far Odin’s good will extended. The scientist in her never could resist a good experiment.
Odin only laughed and began to guide her from her table. “Aye, I am thankful then that I had not already bestowed the opportunity I wished to give you today. I admit to purposefully limiting your resources for these first few months. Given the cautionary tales that I have heard, I thought it best to force you to truly immerse yourself in our existing knowledge before allowing you to pave your own way further.”
Jane frowned as they left the archives entirely, heading towards an unfamiliar portion of the palace. “I don’t understand. You had the scribes hide books from me?”
“No, no, you had access to all of Asgard’s written tomes. More access than most scribes are ever allowed as befits the Crown Prince’s consort. I meant access to a more physical resource…” Odin opted for showing rather than telling here, guiding her through a series of locked doors and passed numerous guards until they were in the belly of a massive vault. With a wave of his staff, a stone wall crawled forward, revealing a small chamber lit by a dancing blue glow. As the chamber became fully visible, Jane let out a gasp.
“The Tesseract.”
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After twenty minutes, Darcy concluded that Jane wasn’t coming to dinner and served herself some of the heavenly smelling soup, ignoring the bright purple coloring.
“Should we be worried?” Bucky asked, but his concern was clearly only for show because he was quick to help himself to the soup as soon as she’d relinquished the ladle.
“Nah, she’s fine,” Darcy said while she blew on a steaming spoonful, “Just caught up in work, most likely.”
Bucky’s concern did then turn a touch more pointed. “Most likely?”
Moaning at the taste of the soup and doubly regretting having slept through lunch, Darcy waved him off absentmindedly, waiting until she’d taken a few more spoons of her dinner before explaining, “Jane and I’ve been together for years now, and she’s the one who helped me the most in trying to hone my powers or whatever. I’m always aware of her energy. It’s background noise now and totally an involuntary thing. If anything is ever wrong with her, I’m gonna know before anyone, even her,” Darcy paused to gulp some more soup before guiltily adding, “Except for that one time she was kidnapped by HYDRA, but that was only because I was exceptionally drunk at the time.”
Bucky chuckled, and they ate their dinner in comfortable silence, still raw from the afternoon. Darcy had told Bucky everything that had transpired with her mom which had wiped her out both physically and mentally. They’d stayed in bed up right up until dinner, alternately dozing and talking, limiting conversation to palace gossip. Fandral was a favorite topic as Bucky had found an unlikely friend in the Asgardian. Darcy much prefered Sif and Volstagg to Fandral, but Bucky liked Fandral’s stories. A part of her believed it was because Bucky could recognize aspects of his pre-War self in the stories of Fandral charming his way into the hearts of Asgardians or of Fandral talking his way out of some skirmish or another. In the scant days they’d taken to prepare back at the Tower before leaving for Asgard, Darcy had covertly read up on what the history books said about Bucky.
She’d done it covertly because, at the time, she wasn’t sure how the man refusing any and all contact with the only remaining piece of his past, Steve, would take reminders of that past. She later realized that Bucky’s aversion to Steve was because of something more recent and personal and so had little to do with his past life. Coming clean should have been her next move, but Darcy had felt uncharacteristically embarrassed at having read up so much on Bucky. It wasn’t that she was hiding what she had learned, but she was unsure about how to bring it up without making it seem like she wanted him to remember things he might not be able to recall. The last thing she wanted was to pressure him, and thus she kept what she had learned to herself for the time being.
Part of what she had learned was that Bucky Barnes had been quite the flirt in his day. It didn’t surprise her given the lines he fed her when he wasn’t thinking, when he was acting on instinct. Darcy most assuredly was not worrying that Bucky was trying to live vicariously through Fandral’s conquests; she’d have to be blind, deaf and stupid to miss the affection and the loyalty Bucky showed her. Even if they hadn’t officially begun any kind of relationship, they both knew there was something there. They’d talked round it while they tackled more pressing issues, but neither of them doubted it was there. So Darcy thought Bucky liked Fandral’s stories because without memories of his own, the stories were the closest explanations he could find for the motives behind his own actions and feelings. Something familiar enough to give him some context.
Bucky interrupted Darcy’s musings, “Nothing against Jane, but I could probably help you with your powers some, too.”
“You’re sweet, but I think I’m good. As Dragon Ball Z as it is to say, I feel like I got the full gist of my powers once I tapped into my full demon form and went all super saiyan.”
“What you do with a dragon’s balls is your own business,” Bucky glided on by yet another reference he didn’t understand, “I get that you know what powers you have now in a general sense, but I can still help you with how you use those powers.”
There was a more assertive quality to his voice that Darcy was noticing more and more as time went by. As frustrated as Bucky might be with what he saw as little progress, he actually moved farther and farther from the emotionless automaton that was the Winter Soldier under HYDRA control with every day, and she was loving seeing new traits and quirks emerge in him. However, this was one trait she didn’t want to indulge in the present situation. She’d had enough powers testing with her Science Ladies to last a lifetime.
“I really think I’m good, Buckaroo,” Darcy evaded, reaching across him to grab a roll so that she could mop up the last dregs of soup in her bowl. Before she could reach the bread, though, she was being pulled from her chair and the room became a blur of motion until she was resting belly down on the ground, hands locked in a metal fist behind her back and Bucky’s flesh hand pressing into her throat hard enough to burn. With a start, she realized the hand at her throat was pinning her so that she couldn’t get any air and so could not scream or hum.
Bucky released her quickly and rolled back to settle on his haunches. He didn’t even have the decency to pretend to be out of breath from his display.
Rubbing her neck even though she knew she was completely fine, she glared at him. “What the hell?”
“You couldn’t have escaped that before I broke your neck. You rely too much on the assumption you’re going to be able to make some noise and disappear away from danger,” Bucky shrugged, “You think that your powers as you understand them are enough to save you. I just showed you how deadly that assumption can be.”
Darcy used the chair to leverage herself up, irritated at both his actions and what he was implying. “I can take care of myself! Something you should know considering I beat you twice.”
“Wouldn’t have happened the second time if I hadn’t been wiped, doll,” Bucky said calmly, staying seated.
“Oh, you think so?” Darcy could feel her eyes going a little black with anger, and she wasn’t even sure why. Bucky was only trying to help, but she couldn’t stop the rage building within her. “I’ve kept myself alive this long! Against flaming metal deathbots and space elves and gods and, oh yeah, cyborg assassins bent on killing me!” she screeched, regretting how shrill her voice sounded.
A second later, she regretted having grouped Bucky in with her enemies even more.
“No, I didn’t mean…” she began, eyes skittering down, “I’m sorry, you’re trying to help me. I don’t know…”
Bucky, who hadn’t so much as twitched when she was yelling at him, jumped up at the wobbling way her sentence trailed off, reaching for her before she could embarrassingly cry for the millionth time that day.
“Hey, doll, it’s alright. You’re not mad at me, I know that. I’m just the safest place for you to direct your anger right now, that’s all.”
Shame burned bright in her at that realization, that she’d reflexively used Bucky as an emotional punching bag because the person she really wanted to punch was somewhere off gallivanting in some brimstone and hellfire.
“I’m sorry. I won’t let that happen again,” she promised, “I didn’t realize, but I will next time.”
“It’s been a day so don’t beat yourself up too much. I’m tougher than I look,” Bucky cajoled, drawing a watery giggle from her because if Bucky were any tougher than he looked, then he’d be nigh-invulnerable.
Wanting to give him more than platitudes and also realizing his point from earlier was valid, Darcy sighed, “You’re right. I need more help, especially if things are only going to get crazier once my Deadbeat Dad shows up. I’d love for you to help me.”
“I’ll go easy on you,” Bucky said, “To start.”
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The next morning, Jane dragged herself to breakfast in yesterday’s clothes, prompting a full body sigh from her assistant.
“Clearly, I should have popped into the archives for you last night,” Darcy said, “And here I thought you were getting better about tucking yourself in at night.”
Jane stuck her tongue out at Darcy before zeroing in on the coffee that Thor had long ago made a staple import from Earth into Asgard. “Joke’s on you because you wouldn’t have been able to find me in the Archives.”
“It’s a big ass library, sure, but I would have found you eventually. I’d have followed whatever trail of destruction your research had left straight to you.”
Jane smiled at Bucky after he pulled out her chair and daintily sat down. Darcy blinked at the exchange, curious as to what had shifted the two from polite tolerance to friendly overtures, while Jane responded.
“I don’t leave trails of destruction wherever I work,” she muttered halfheartedly into her giant mug of coffee.
“Not going to bother arguing that one because your record speaks for itself. You’re an adorable and terrifying Tasmanian Devil of Science.”
Jane flipped her off, almost spilling her precious coffee because she really needed two hands to safely maneuver it. The mug was ostensibly Thor’s, but Jane had long ago swiped it despite the obvious disparity between her human metabolism and his Asgardian one.
“Whatever,” Jane clamped both hands on the mug before disaster struck, “I mean that I’m not working in the Archives anymore. New project.”
“Oh?” Darcy asked, intrigued. Bucky continued with his usual habit of stuffing his mouth with breakfast sausage rather than engaging in the surrounding conversation. He was usually chattier during lunch and dinner, but Frigga help the poor soul who interrupted his morning meal.
“Tell you all about it later once I have a better handle on it,” Jane tilted her head at Darcy, narrowing her eyes, “You look good.”
“I’d usually be insulted at the tone of surprise, but given the day I had yesterday, I’ll give you a pass, Janie-pants. I’m okay.”
Jane squinted at her, clearly skeptical.
“Really,” Darcy reassured her, leaning over to playfully butt her friend’s shoulder with her own, “I was really torn up yesterday, and it still sucks balls hard, but I’m really okay.”
Jane squinted harder, but then turned to face Bucky and nodded approvingly.
“Good job, Wiener Soldier.”
Bucky, who at that moment had been stuffing two sausages at once into his mouth, choked on said wieners at the nickname. Darcy perked up in her seat, face beginning to glow with delight much to Bucky’s chagrin. Swallowing quickly, he bit out a hard, “No.”
“Jane, you brilliant, genius angel of a human!” Darcy exclaimed, every tooth showing in a wide grin, “Wiener Soldier!”
“No,” Bucky tried again, face going white, “This is not happening. That name is not happening.”
While Darcy lost herself to body-wracking laughter, muttering ‘wiener soldier’ to herself over and over, Jane pat Bucky on the arm.
“Welcome to our weird little family, Wiener Soldier,” she said before stealing a sausage from his plate and taking a large, self-satisfied bite.