Chapter Text
Darcy banged her head against the elevator door as it rose smoothly up into the tower. She should have realised that trying to end her dry spell with Derek from HR was a stupid idea. When he’d asked her out a few days ago, she’d though ‘why not?’ and agreed to dinner. Maybe the first sign not to agree should have been that he hadn’t said her words (which shouldn’t really be an issue), but when he’d booked the table under ‘D-Dog’ she ought to have run for the hills.
Give everyone the benefit of the doubt, that’s what her Mom always said, but she wished she had followed her gut instead. Then she might not be traipsing back to the tower, alone, at 10:45pm after spending three hours listening to the man drone on about himself and his “extreme”-fucking-sports.
Puh-lease, she was friends with the Avengers. Some clown who liked jumping around on a BMX just wasn’t going to cut it.
The elevator opened on the communal floor, causing several heads to turn in her direction. Oh this was just perfect, they were having an impromptu get together and everyone was here to witness her lone return. However, Jane was there and her need for a cuddle outweighed the embarrassment.
Darcy shuffled over to the sofa that Jane and Thor sat on and threw herself down face first. She felt a small hand pat her hair and rolled over.
“Janey,” Darcy heard the whine in her own voice. “Why does nobody love me?”
Jane gave her a sympathetic smile. “Darcy, we all love you,” she pointed out. Darcy just huffed.
“You guys don’t count. I’m pretty sure I added ‘Must Love Darcy’ as a clause in all your contracts,” she moaned.
Jane rolled her eyes. “You’re hopeless, Darce!” she stroked the curls off Darcy’s face. “Think about your words.”
Darcy propped herself up on her elbows.
“Yeah, but they mean nothing until I actually meet them. Until then, it’s just one of the many things that drive people away,” Darcy pouted and rested her head back onto the cushioned seat.
Jane looked around at the quiet room crossly. “Well? Someone tell Darcy there’s no reason for people not to love her!”
Clint made an ‘eh’ noise and both Jane and Darcy glared at him. He shrugged. “You do snort when you laugh,” he pointed out.
Darcy looked at Jane and wailed, “He’s right, I do!” Jane spluttered for a retort, but Tony spoke up first.
“You interfere with my science. Like all the time,” he said. Darcy gave him a withering glare. “I make you function as a human being, Stark,” she reminded him. Tony winced dramatically, “But I’m so much better than that!”
Darcy gave a small laugh.
Clint piped up again. “You swear like a trucker!”
“Go suck a dick, Hawkass,” Darcy smirked in response, much to Clint’s delight.
"Such language!” he cried, putting on a (terrible) Southern accent, and causing Darcy to grin even more.
“Motherfucking douchenozzle,” Darcy winked.
“You’re so loud for such a small person,” Tony lamented, not one to be upstaged.
Darcy scoffed, “Are you sure you want to play the size card, Tony?”
There was a flutter of laughter around the room, loudest of all from Pepper and Tony slumped back in a sulk.
"You drink all the good coffee,” Clint complained from his beanbag.
“I make all the good coffee,” Darcy said, sighing.
“And another thing!” Tony shouted, sitting up again. “JARVIS likes you more than me!”
“How is that a flaw?” Darcy threw her hands up in despair.
Tony held up a hand. “It just is, don’t question your shortcomings.”
Clint raised his hand. Clearly the man had yet to graduate fifth grade.
“You and Natasha being friends is just plain scary,” the archer mused.
Natasha chuckled, and leaned over to offer Darcy her fist.
"Damn straight,” Natasha said, giving Clint a superior smirk.
Darcy accepted the fist bump willingly, a smug expression on her face. That made all the fricking training sessions at ungodly hours of the morning worth it.
“Honestly,” Tony began, causing the room to groan collectively. “No, hear me out! Lewis, you have a shitty taste in men.”
Tony spread his hands in a surrender motion.
Darcy made a noise of derision.
"Tony, that is literally the problem right now, you are not helping at all!” she cried before burying her head in a cushion.
Tony opened his mouth to reply, when an unfamiliar voice spoke from the back corner of the room.
“I think you’re perfect.”
The whole room froze.
Bucky was sitting in the corner, looking vaguely stunned that he had made a noise at all.
Sam stared between Darcy, now sitting bolt upright on the sofa, and Bucky, who was going paler by the second.
“Did he just-?” Sam spoke in disbelief. He prodded Steve, who was stunned into silence beside him.
“Has he spoken to you yet?”
Steve shook his head dumbly.
Darcy had managed to unscramble her brain and pause the hyperventilation for a moment. “Barnes?” she asked, voice higher than normal. “Can I, uh, have a word? Outside? Like, right now?”
Bucky, back to silence, followed her as she almost ran out of the room.
Once they were safely out of eavesdropping distance, in some unremarkable corridor far from the communal area, Darcy turned to face the still stricken Bucky.
“You said my words,” Darcy declared. Bucky’s eyes widened.
“I, uh,” he began, voice rough with disuse. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure, moron,” Darcy told him, affectionately. “Look!”
She hitched up her dress and showed him the soulmark that twisted across her upper thigh. The look in Bucky’s eyes as he stared at the mark made her swallow hard. She watched him reach out his flesh hand towards her leg, but he faltered at the last moment and looked away from where his words were etched into her skin.
“Are you sure you want it to be me?” He murmured.
Darcy’s heart melted a little, watching the man scratch nervously at the back of his head. Even now, even after she had made every effort to reassure him that he was worth something, he still doubted his importance.
Darcy let her hem drop, covering her soulmark and drawing Bucky’s attention back to her face. She watched him for a few moments, allowing him time to process before she spoke again. This time, her voice was soft and gentle.
“Can I see yours, Buck?”
Bucky looked pained.
“Darcy,” he started, her name unfamiliar on his tongue. “I don’t know if you’ll like what you see. I’m sorry.”
Darcy felt her stomach drop. She was a fucking idiot. She had latched on to the first person to say her words, one of her best friends nonetheless, and was about to be humiliated and heartbroken beyond measure. Blinking back tears, she nodded anyway. Better to confirm it. “Please. I need to,” she whispered.
Slowly and carefully, Bucky turned around and pulled his shirt up over his head. There, on his right shoulder, was a bold, black sentence. Darcy’s heart leapt – she definitely said those words. But with closer inspection, she felt sick.
Someone had clearly tried to carve the mark out of Bucky’s flesh. The words were marred with harsh, raised scar tissue, distorting the letters. The cruel act must have been repeated on multiple occasions, as the scars varied in colour – from almost translucent white to angry red welts that looked recent.
“Bucky,” Darcy breathed, reaching out to brush her fingers across the words. “I don’t know what to say.”
Bucky drew a shaky breath.
"Did you say it?” he asked, so quietly she had to ask him to repeat himself. “Did you say… what it says?”
Darcy gently pulled him around to face her, his shirt still clutched in his hands. She took in the apprehension written all over his face, watched the way his anxious eyes tried to read what she was thinking.
“Do you remember meeting me?” she said finally.
Bucky’s expression grew tense. “I, uh… I don’t really know. I keep getting flashes, but I think they tried to wipe you from my brain. They must have seen this,” he gestured to his marked shoulder. “And realised what you were to me.”
Darcy was quiet for a minute, unsure how to react to the soldier’s confession. So many questions burned on her tongue, but she didn’t want to overwhelm the already fragile man. She started with something easy.
"Why haven’t you spoken? Until now, I mean,” she asked gently, gazing up at him with imploring eyes.
Bucky looked down at his hands. “I guess I wasn’t sure what would come out. I didn’t know whether I’d be speaking English or… y’know… if they’d programmed me to only speak Russian or somethin’,” he replied carefully, trailing off towards the end.
At this, Darcy couldn’t control herself any longer. She stepped forwards and threw her arms around Bucky’s waist, giving him the hug that HYDRA had deprived him of for seventy years. Bucky was tense for a few moments, before wrapping his arms around Darcy’s shoulders and exhaling softly. They stood in silence, folded in each other’s arms, for a long while.
“You were sitting in the lab,” Darcy murmured into his chest. “And all the lights were off. Jane does that a lot, forgets to turn the lights on after it gets dark. So I, um, called you a nerd? And then I guess I must have startled the Soldier…”
Darcy felt Bucky’s arms loosen around her, sensing him prepare to recoil into a shell of guilt and self-hatred for something the Soldier did. Darcy reached up and put a hand on either side of his face.
“James Buchanan Barnes, you stop that,” Darcy said, forcing him to focus on her. “You are not allowed to blame yourself for what HYDRA brainwashed the Soldier into doing. That was not your choice, you hear me? Do we blame Clint for what he did while he was being controlled by Loki? No. Do we blame Pietro and Wanda for being manipulated by HYDRA and Ultron? Not one bit. So we do not blame you for the actions of the Winter Soldier!”
Darcy glared up at him, the fire in her eyes daring Bucky to try and take responsibility for HYDRA’s brainwashing. Darcy was prepared to argue until she was blue in the face.
However, she was definitely not prepared for Bucky to lean down and plant his lips on hers, so softly that she had barely registered what was happening before he was pulling away.
"I'm sorr-" Bucky didn't get to finish before Darcy chased his lips with hers, using her hands to draw him down towards her.
This time, Bucky didn’t pull away.
He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her flush against him, tangling his flesh hand in her hair. Darcy sighed softly as he danced his tongue across her lips, begging for entrance. She complied, and joined her hands together behind his neck to press herself ever closer to her new-found soulmate as he deepened their kiss.
Bucky seemed to notice Darcy straining up to meet him, so bent down slightly to scoop her up with his metal arm and press her against the nearest wall. With a small gasp of surprise (that she quickly got over), Darcy locked her legs around his waist, enjoying the new angle that allowed her to properly sink her fingers into Bucky's unfairly soft hair.
After a long few minutes, Bucky pulled away softly, causing Darcy to pout.
“People are going to get the wrong idea, Darce,” Bucky smirked, his nose bumping hers. “Catchin’ us in a compromising position, me with my shirt off.”
“People are going to have absolutely the right idea,” Darcy grinned in return. “You’re my soulmate now, Bucky Barnes. Expect spontaneous hallway makeout sessions to be a common occurrence from this moment forward.”
"I’m looking forward to it, doll,” the soldier said, a huge smile on his face.