Chapter Text
The leather punching bag buckled under the force of his fists, with every strike his knuckles left indentations in the tired surface. Each blow flew faster and harder, his muscles screaming in protest, his back held taut as he continued the brutal routine. Maybe it was because he’d been born in the first half of the 20th century but pummelling stationary gym equipment was just about the only therapy he could manage. He could feel the rage and the guilt slowly seeping out from his bones, his thoughts drifting away from him.
A flash of something long buried and half forgotten surged to the forefront of his mind. A girl with jet coloured hair, rivers of blood cutting through the freshly fallen snow. A quiet sob echoing through the still air as one final breath was forcibly squeezed from failing lungs, a tender heart left crushed and broken. The sudden spark of life snuffed out from bright, brown eyes. He could feel the blood dripping down his wrist; he could feel the knife handle held firmly in his hand. He could feel the grim pleasure of a mission completed.
Bucky growled, his left fist ploughing into the side of the punching bag, sending the thing careening away from him, the chain that held it whining with the strain, eventually snapping under the weight.
“You wanna talk about it?” Asked a voice from the corner of the room.
The ex assassin stiffened before forcing his body to relax, he wasn’t under attack. It was only Steve. His friend.
“Not really,” Bucky replied stiffly. Reaching for a sports bottle and taking a gulp of water he wiped his forehead on a small towel hastily stuffed into an old gym bag. “More of the same.”
“I’m here Buck, if you need…” Captain America offered, his eyes full of heart felt sincerity as he looked towards his best friend.
“I know Steve,” Bucky nodded slowly, exhaling a soft, tired sigh as he did so. “I’ll work it out, I just need some time.”
“OK,” the blond nodded, acquiescing, but there was a hint of doubt staining his eyes.
“Gimme a minute and we’ll get out of here. I fancy Thai food. Barton told me about a place over in the West Village.” Bucky picked up his gym bag and headed towards the showers adjourning one of the many training rooms in Avenger’s Tower.
“The West Village huh?” Steve questioned mildly, withdrawing the magazine he’d tucked into his back pocket. Flipping disinterestedly through its creased pages he glanced towards the door that lead to the shower room. “Is there any particular reason why we’re going all the way to the West Village for food when you live in Brooklyn and you’ve been going to Na Lek’s ever since you discovered miang kham?”
“Barton said it was the best.” Bucky huffed as he came out of what must have been the quickest shower on record.
“On whose recommendation did he try it?” Steve prodded; his eyes alight with humour as he teased his friend.
“Darcy’s.” Bucky snapped, his blue eyes shining with poorly concealed annoyance.
“Darcy huh?” Steve questioned, rising to his feet as Bucky gestured for the two of them to move.
“Yes, Darcy.”
“You going to do something about whatever’s going on between you two or are you just going to hang out at her favourite restaurant. Like a creepster.” Steve asked, sending a sidelong glance towards his companion, gauging the ex assassins reaction.
“Nothing’s going on Steve.” The Winter Soldier ground out as he resisted the urge to punch his friend in the face. "Creepster?"
"The Urban Dictionary has a Word of the Day feature - it's useful," Steve strayed momentarily before getting back on point. “You want anything to be going on?”
Steve had always been tenacious.
“No.” Came Bucky’s curt reply but his face suddenly softened and a look of absolute desperation flew across the crease in his brow. “Maybe… I don’t know, she might not even want anything.”
“Buck.” Steve attempted to keep his voice level but he couldn’t help the laughter that crept into it. “Since when did you second guess yourself over a girl?”
“Since I came back,” Barnes sighed. “I’m not the same. I’ve lost so much of myself, patched up so many psychological wounds that I can’t remember who I’m supposed to be trying to be anymore. I don’t know if Darcy’s ready for that. I don’t know if I’m ready for anything like that – any sort of emotional entanglement.”
“Bucky… I know it seems like I want it to be how it was before, when we were just running around Brooklyn. But I don’t, not really. We can’t live in the past, what happened to you, the attack on New York and DC; those events have changed the both us profoundly.
“What I’m trying to say is, I know you want to be a good man and that’s enough for me and I’m sure that’s all Darcy wants. Besides, you can’t force away your feelings. That’s not how it works.” Steve took a shuddering breath as the two companions wandered onto the sidewalk, the city streets giving off waves of heat after a particularly hot summer’s day.
Bucky sighed in frustration, half at himself and half at Steve’s unwavering optimism. “What if I’m not capable? What if I can’t atone for everything?”
“Bucky you’re the most capable, resilient person I know. You’re trying to be a decent human being and that’s a lot more than a lot of people can say.”
“You know there’s a reason why I decided to break one of Tony’s punch bags.” Bucky offered mildly, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
“You didn’t want to talk about it?” Steve laughed.
“Yeah, so how about we go get some Thai food and watch the LA Dodgers.”
Steve scowled, “Seriously?”
“Get over it punk, it’s just baseball.”
Steve sighed.
Bucky sat perched on one of the metal stools that were scattered about Tony’s lab, his shirt a messy pile on the workbench next to him, his arm exposed for its monthly fine tuning. The billionaire playboy philanthropists had disappeared into one of the adjoining room, something about a Phillips screwdriver muttered under his breath.
“So you gonna tell me if that was you hanging around my favourite Thai place the other day?” Darcy’s voice sounded in Bucky’s ear as she leant over his shoulder, her brown hair piled atop her head as she wielded a clipboard with startling dexterity. “Sign here please.”
“I wasn’t hanging around, I was waiting for take out.” Bucky groused, reaching for the pen offered him. “What is this?”
“SI are updating their life insurance policy, seriously you probably should read this…” Darcy sighed, Bucky had already put pen to paper. Rolling her eyes she returned to their earlier conversation. “You sure you weren’t stalking the joint in an effort to see me? Because that would be creepster-y even for you.”
“Even for me? The hell’s that supposed to mean doll?” Bucky questioned, somewhat annoyed.
“Well, you do have that watching thing going on…” Darcy shrugged, moving away from Barnes and leaning against the granite work surface.
“Watching thing?”
“Fine, you observe people,” the brunette conceded with a groan.
“It’s hardwired into my brain. And no I wasn’t stalking a restaurant in the hopes of seeing you. Clint said it was good.” Bucky’s blue eyes flitted across to Darcy; a wide smile was gracing her features. Something tightened in his chest – he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so taken by a girl.
“So, worth trekking over to the West Village for?” Darcy asked, her gaze raking across his exposed chest, lingeringly slightly at the fissure between his arm and torso, the jagged fusion of flesh and metal.
“Maybe,” Bucky shrugged.
“Well next time you’re in the neighbourhood we should totally order in,” Darcy smiled. “Anyway, I’ll leave you to it.”
Bucky nodded, watching her retreating figure. Screwing his hand into his fist he suddenly called out. “Hey Darce!”
“Yeah?” The brunette returned, shooting a coy look over her shoulder.
“How do you feel about Old Fashioneds?” Bucky questioned.
“Well I think you’re swell,” Darcy grinned, her eyes dancing with good humour.
“I was talking about the cocktail but I ain’t gonna complain if a beautiful dame expresses a preference for me.” Bucky smirked, there was something familiar about this, the casual ease with which he talked to her. How willing he was to give her his affections.
“Can’t say I’ve ever had one.” Darcy shrugged, stepping back towards the now standing Barnes.
Sucking in her breath Darcy tried not to stare, every well-defined muscle normally hidden by a layer of cotton were out in full view. A blinding urge to press her lips against his skin, to caress every scar that ran across his torso with her tongue surged through her. Forcing down the errant thought and willing herself not to blush she fixed Bucky with a casual look, but she had a sneaking suspicion she was failing at nonchalance.
“You’re still trying to find your drink right?” Bucky asked, his voice hitching ever so slightly as Darcy ran her tongue across her bright, cherry coloured lips. His eyes pulsated with desire before he checked himself and dragged his gaze back up to meet Darcy's eyes.
“Yeah, you offering to help?” The brunette asked, the light teasing betraying all together far darker thoughts.
“Sure looks that way doll.” Bucky smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners, a sudden wave of elation filling his chest. “I’ll meet you when you’re done with work?”
“It’s a date.”
Darcy grinned.