Chapter Text
Darcy feels her heart thumping in her chest like a fish struggling on a line, every thrust dragging her closer. This kind of heat, this intensity, like the only thing on his mind is discovering all the ways he can wring pleasured reactions out of her, it's like nothing she's experienced before with anyone else. And it hurts, knowing it's not really her that he wants.
He was just supposed to be a random bar hookup. A one-time thing. Bucky -James. That’s how he’d introduced himself- wasn't supposed to look for her again and she definitely wasn't supposed to be having these kinds of feelings for him. But that was almost a year ago now and she's in way too deep, knows this thing between them has to end before she slips up and says something she shouldn't.
It sneaks up on her, the slick slide of his thumb, right there, and she goes rigid, clenching around him, biting his shoulder to keep the words that want to spill locked behind her teeth. Another thrust, two, and he follows her over the edge, stilling inside her and finally ceasing the litany of exciting, hot, filthy things he’s been whispering in her ear. Darcy closes her eyes against the burning sensation of tears that she refuses to let fall.
It isn't the first time she's come home from work to find him waiting for her. It happens every so often, usually after he's been away for a while, -work stuff, he tells her, never sharing the details- when he barely lets her close the door before he pounces, pins her to the nearest empty surface, shifts her cloths out of the way just enough to give him access, and takes her. The longer the absence, the more intense and needy he is during his next visit. At least for the first round; anything after that is unpredictable.
Darcy hisses softly, releasing her grip on him and pulling back as much as she can when he nuzzles against the side of her throat, trailing kisses up to her jaw as he slips out of her. Darcy unlocks her legs from around him, feeling the back of her suit jacket catch against the wall as he lowers her carefully to the floor. Eyes still closed, she turns her head away and pushes lightly against his chest to get him to back up. As soon as she has enough space, she slips away, every movement deliberate and showing nothing but calm. A part of her wonders when she got so good at pretending; good enough to fool even someone with his skills.
She shimmies out of her jacket and lets it fall without a word, not trusting her voice just yet. Darcy doesn't say anything until she's halfway down the hall, leaving a careless trail of clothes behind her, desperate for a shower and something comfortable to wear. She almost hopes he'll take this opportunity to disappear again while she's otherwise occupied, but it's unlikely. That stopped happening after the first couple of times.
"You know where everything is," she calls back over her shoulder, unbuttoning her shirt as she goes. Darcy doesn't look back as she lets it drop, leaving it on the floor just outside the bathroom. She closes and locks the door behind her, knowing it won't actually keep him out if he decides he wants in, but giving her a few seconds of warning if he does. With the water set just short of scalding, she strips away the rest of her clothes and steps into the shower.
The heat is soothing and she leans, palms flat against the wall, letting the water run down her back. Darcy drops her head forward between her arms and her shoulders shake with silent sobs as she finally lets the tears go. How much time passes, she isn't sure, but the click of the door unlocking has her straightening up so quickly her head spins a little. She tilts her face into the water, hoping to hide the evidence of her little crash before he can get a good look at her. The rush of cold air that follows James as he slips into the shower behind her makes Darcy shiver. His hands fall to her hips, both flesh and metal cool against her heated skin, allowing her to feel the twitch at the exact moment he notices the tattoo.
He clears his throat carefully before his voice rumbles out of him, deeper than normal. "That's new."
"Not really. Already healed and everything." Darcy shrugs, hoping he'll drop it, but pretty sure he won't. He doesn't.
"You didn't have any ink the last time I was home, Doll." His right hand moves up, fingers lightly tracing the outline of the tattoo along Darcy's right shoulder blade. "Now you have this. Something you're trying to tell me?"
Darcy snorts. "I saw it. I liked it. I got it. End of story." At least as far as he's concerned. He doesn't need to know how she'd talked to Thor about it, wanting his permission first. Or how Thor had been surprised and delighted by her request to bear his mark, and more than happy to agree. Or how the prince had done her one better than just okaying the idea by bringing back a beautiful, one of a kind design of his symbol from a real Asgardian artist, just for her.
"So it's not some weird fangirl thing over a superhero?" If she didn't know better, Darcy would swear that sounded like jealousy in his tone. But it couldn't have been. That would be weird. She shakes her head.
“Has nothing to do with the superhero.” Not technically a lie, as she was thinking about her friend, the man who saved her life, when she got it, and not the Avenger, so it also slips past his notice. Again, Darcy wonders at her ability to lie so convincingly, especially to him. "You got a problem with that?"
"Just curious." He brings his hands up to her shoulders and rubs carefully, using just the right amount of pressure to have her leaning back against him with a groan. "You okay? 'Cause you seem tense."
"Long week," another half-truth that he misses. Darcy starts to wonder if it's not her getting better, but him slipping, but it's not like she can ask anyone. No one knows about this thing she has with him, and she cut almost all ties to that life before the Winter Soldier was recovered. Except for the occasional meet up with Thor and Jane, and that one memorable vacation they all took with Sif and the Warriors Three, Darcy hasn't seen anyone from her intern days in a few years. Just thinking about the truckload of non-disclosure agreements she had to sign when she left still makes her wrist ache.
But Bucky -James- doesn't know about any of that. He doesn't know about her history with his friends and employers, and has no clue that she knows exactly who he is, and has from the first moment she saw the flash of his metal arm in the gap between his glove and coat. She could have stopped it all then, told him the truth, but it was already too late for her to turn back. In that moment, with his lips on her throat and his fingers thrusting deep, she had wanted him more than she had any man, even Fandral during their brief fling. And it was only supposed to happen the one time.
Thinking back on that first time makes her shiver and Bucky -James. Gotta remember to call him James- presses up against her back, hands drifting from her shoulders to roam over every inch of slick skin he can reach. His mouth latches on to her neck, and she just knows she's going to have a mark there later. Cool metal slides over her stomach and lower, searching, and so very careful, until, oh, she should not find that as hot as she as does. Feeling the way he touches her now, Darcy can tell he got whatever urgent need was driving him for the first round out of the way. Now he seems content to explore her more thoroughly and at a less frantic pace.
"Let me help you relax?" his voice is a low rasp next to her ear and she knows she should say no, knows all the reasons why this is a bad idea, but can't bring herself to do it. She nods her permission, not trusting her voice, and arches into his touch as he stops holding back. He works her over, slow and gentle, until Darcy cries out, and then starts over again, and again, and again, until her legs give and the only thing keeping her upright is his arm locked around her. Then, and only then, does he slide inside her, the steady rocking of his hips keeping to the pace his fingers set until she clenches around him and drags him over the edge with her.
Bucky stays wrapped around her, pressing soft kisses to her neck and shoulders as the water still pouring over them begins to cool. Eventually, the distant awareness of his hands as they work shampoo into her hair draws Darcy back to reality enough to help him. Working together, they manage to get both of them clean and rinsed before the water turns cold, but only just. They stumble out of the shower and Darcy chucks a towel at his head when Bucky looks her over with a smug grin. He catches it with a laugh and wanders across the hall to her bedroom as he dries off. Darcy grabs her robe and gives her hair a rough going over with a towel to get out as much of the excess water as she can before deciding to tie it up. It’s not ideal, but she's too exhausted to deal with it properly.
"You don't mind if I crash here, right?" His voice travels back through the open doors and Darcy sighs as she finishes her quick braid. After a moment spent leaning against the counter, she feels steady enough to face him. She checks that her robe is secure before joining Bucky in the bedroom, where he's already ditched his towel to sprawl naked across more than half of the bed.
"If that's what you want." Darcy lets her momentum carry her forward and flops down onto the bed, face first, careful to avoid touching him as she does. She can feel him staring at her, but doesn't lift her head from the pillow. Sleep tugs at her and she doesn't put up much of a fight. "What?"
"You sure you're okay?" The mix of curiosity and concern in his voice isn't surprising, given her attitude so far. She's been cooler, more distant than usual this time, with a slight edge to everything she says. It isn't easy, but Darcy knows she can't keep putting it off. Tomorrow, this has to be resolved.
"Said m'fine," she mumbles, managing a weak hand flap as she drifts off. She is vaguely aware of feeling the bed shift before she's out completely.
-----------------------------------
Sometime during the night Darcy wakes with a gasp. It takes a few seconds for her brain to wake up enough to recognize why. Someone is... -oh- Bucky's mouth is... -Oh, god- He's... Her fingers reach down to tangle in his hair as he... -don'tstopdon'tstopdon'tstop- Pleasure shoots through her and she cries out wordlessly, all coherent thoughts disappearing when he keeps going.
-----------------------------------
She's sitting at the table, hunched over her third cup of coffee, when he wanders into her tiny kitchen, fully dressed and frowning at his phone.
"I gotta head out for a bit. Work thing." Bucky absently drops a kiss to her shoulder as he passes behind her to grab his own mug. Darcy doesn't look up from the table. She hears his appreciative sigh, so familiar to her, before he drops into one of the other chairs. He’s watching her, she can feel it, but she can’t bring herself to look at him. “It shouldn’t take too long, so I was thinking we could--”
“This needs to stop.” Darcy cuts him off, forcing the words out past clenched teeth. Bucky goes still.
"What does?" His tone is curious, but carefully even, and she knows his barriers have just slammed shut. This is where things get difficult. She's not afraid of him, even knowing what she does about him, but Darcy doesn't know how he'll react to this, and it worries her.
"This. Us. What we've been doing." She forces herself to take a drink, breathe, settle down and handle this calmly. She's the one who got in too deep and developed feelings. It isn't fair to force that on Bucky when she knows he's hung up on someone else. "I've been putting this off for a while, but it's time to end it. This has to be the last time."
"Why?" Darcy hesitates at the question, rolling her mostly empty cup between her hands. She stares into the liquid as if it holds the answers for her, and finally decides it's better to not press her luck. No outright lies, only half-truths and misleading words in the hope that he won't figure her out.
"I got a promotion." The words come out barely above a whisper and he has to lean in closer to hear it, but when he does, he reaches over and squeezes her hand.
"Congratulations," Bucky's voice is soft, and Darcy's sure she's imagining that he sounds proud of her. Not when they're having this discussion. She knows she's right when he continues and nothing but curiosity remains. "But what does--" He stops talking when his phone beeps, but he ignores it to keep looking at her.
"I'm moving." There is a pause as Darcy picks her next words carefully. He watches her, completely silently, waiting for her to finish. "They've offered me a place to live, on site, fully furnished and rent free. I have 'til the end of next week to pack and get things shipped over there before I start work."
Bucky's phone beeps again and he sighs, pulling back to check the text. It beeps again before he even puts it down, and from the corner of her eye, Darcy sees him type out a response with one hand. She winces inwardly as he drops the phone on the table, focusing back on her.
"Why didn't you say anything sooner?" The faintest hint of censure in his tone is too much.
"You weren't here." She snaps, finally looking up at him. A bit of the bitterness slips through as she continues. “You’ve been out of contact for months, James. When exactly, in the two weeks I’ve known, was I supposed to tell you?” She watches as his face blanks, eyes completely emotionless, and she knows this isn't Bucky she's facing anymore. He's slipped into his soldier persona, using his spy training to deal with the situation. Darcy can’t stand it and has to look away. "New job, new city. Feels like the right time to make a fresh start."
The silence between them draws out past the point of discomfort and it takes every ounce of restraint in her for Darcy to stay in her seat. She feels him watching her again and the urge to squirm increases, but she resists. She’s been so careful about not giving herself away for this long, she’s determined not to mess up now, when she’s finally worked up the courage to end it. It’s better for both of them this way.
"You moving doesn't mean this has to end." It’s not what she expected to hear from him, but before she can figure out how to react, a song Darcy doesn’t recognize erupts from the phone between them. They both stare at it in frustration for a few seconds before Bucky picks it back up and presses to ignore the call. Acting as if there was no interruption, he picks up his previous train of thought. "If it's just about distance, we can make that work. I can come see you. Or you could come back here to visit when you get time off." The song rings out again and this time he ignores it without even looking at the screen.
"A clean break is for the best." Darcy shakes her head at his suggestions, but feels herself wavering. The phone rings again and Bucky snarls, picking up and letting loose a string of curses in at least four different languages at the person on the other end of the line. Amid the tangle of foreign words is a name that Darcy is far too familiar with hearing him say, and she just barely resists flinching as she listens to him talk to the person he really wants. It firms her resolve, and when he hangs up, she continues with a steady voice. “It’s time to let go.”
“Look, Darcy, I have to do this thing right now, but I’ll come back when I’m done." The frustration Bucky let out through the phone leaves no trace when he focuses back on her. She risks looking at him again and, as far as she can tell, he's back to the even and closed off man from before, still a few shades off from the Soldier. She'll take what she can get right now. "We need to talk about this.”
“Nothing more to say." Darcy shakes her head. "My mind’s made up.”
"And I don't get a say in this?" For a moment, his voice flares with undisguised anger and Darcy bites the inside of her lip hard enough to draw blood. "What I think doesn't matter?"
"James, please don’t make this harder than it has to be.” Darcy’s voice is surprisingly even, words clipped and hard edged. -don’tcrydon’tcrydon’tcry- She pushes away from the table to pace in the tiny kitchen area, away from Bucky. "It's over, and I think it would be better if we didn't see each other again."
"Darcy-"
"I'll be at work on Monday," she keeps talking, knowing if she lets him say anything her resolve will shatter. That can’t happen. She crosses her arms as she turns her back to him, not sure how much longer she'll last before she loses control of her expression and can't hide her breaking heart anymore. "You can come back then to pick up anything you've left here, and drop off the copy you made of my keys."
"So that's it then. Just like that?" His voice is colder than Darcy's ever heard it before, and she knows she's lost him. Driven him away. Mission accomplished. She clenches her teeth so hard her jaw aches as she fights against the sudden urge to throw up. "It's just that easy for you to walk away."
"Please, just go." She barely gets the words out, but after a moment of silence he moves, stomping through the apartment, muttering darkly as collects what he needs from the other room and storms out.
Darcy hears the front door slam and lets go, sliding down the lower cabinets to sit on the floor with her arms hugging her legs to her chest. She slumps forward to rest her head on her knees and finally breaks.