heaven from hell - t - darcy/bucky - 2/4 [a]
title: so you think you can tell (heaven from hell)
category: thor/captain america
genre: romance/tragedy
ship: darcy/bucky
rating: nc-17/explicit
word count: 10,239
summary: As far as happy stories go, this was that. The beginning, the middle, they were the happiest times either of them ever knew. It's the endings that are sad, and every story has one. Some are just sadder than others.
playlist: 8tracks
polyvore: [1] | [2] | [3] | [4] | [5] | [6]
previous: [prologue]
so you think you can tell (heaven from hell)
-2/4-
I.
Bucky met her in the summer; it was a Monday, late-July, almost two years after he showed up on Steve's doorstep, asking for help.
He collided with her in the middle of a hallway as she came around a corner sharply and slammed right into his body, ricocheting off of his chest, her coffee dumped down his front.
"Oh, fuck, sorry, shit."
Those were her first words. Rushed and awkward.
And then, in between apologizing, she tried to clean him up with a napkin. She rambled the whole time: "I'm not usually this klutzy, I swear. This is just my first coffee because I've got three scientists that act more like toddlers than adults sometimes. Actually, no, only two, Bruce is pretty good. I mean, if we're comparing them to children, Stark's the shit disturber, Bruce goes along with it because 'science bros,' and Jane's yelling at them for interrupting her playtime. Anyway, the point is, I have not had enough caffeine this morning, and now you're wearing most of it, which, you know, not your fault, but wow, shitty timing or what, right?"
He stared at her like a putz. She was the first person besides Steve that talked to him like just a normal, average person and not like he was the deadly assassin everybody knew him to be, and he couldn't even form words. She looked up then, meeting his eyes, pressing a napkin flat against his chest, and he waited for recognition and horror to dawn on her face. Her very pretty face, with flushed cheeks and big, bright blue eyes, full pink lips, and the kind of smile that made his stomach twist up in knots.
But she didn't recoil in fear, she just quirked her head and said, "Hey, I know you… You're Steve's friend."
So he nodded, silent and curious. Did nobody inform her of who he really was? That 'Steve's friend' was a former HYDRA asset better known for killing people? Shouldn't a memo have gone out on that?
"You took out Eye-Patch, didn't you?" Her lips pursed. "Didn't know him, personally. But I hear you're the reason Coulson came out of fake dead-dom, so, y'know, props, I guess. Not on the killing part, that's a no-no, I hear. But it's kind of nice to see a familiar face around here, even if he pretends he doesn't have any other expression except 'exasperated.'"
Bucky's lips twitched, partly in confusion, partly in sincere amusement.
"Anyway, sorry for the first-degree burns." She tapped his chest with her finger, a wet napkin balled up in her palm. "I'll make it up to you sometime." She nodded her chin in farewell then and walked off, hips sashaying distractingly.
Bucky watched her go, his brow furrowed, and then he cleared his throat. "I, uh, didn't catch your name…" he said, his fingers curling into his palms as a flood of awkwardness hit him. Jesus Christ, he swore Steve said he used to be good with people, women especially, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out how.
She turned, her long, dark hair swinging at her back, and she looked at him over her shoulder, all bright colors and a sunny grin. "Darcy Lewis; scientist wrangler extraordinaire. Try not to forget me; you'll probably be running into me a lot and that'd be awkward."
He nodded faintly.
She offered a wink farewell before she left.
When she was out of sight, he started down the hall in the opposite direction. He said her name, quietly and to himself, rolling it around on his tongue, until it was familiar.
Making his way to the gym, he found Steve waiting, and wondered if his friend had any insight on Darcy Lewis that he'd be willing to share.
Darcy's favorite food was of the diner variety, cheeseburgers and milkshakes. And not just any kind of cheeseburger, but the messy kind, with the relish and ketchup squeezing out to plop onto the plate with every bite. Watching her eat wasn't pretty, but it was honest. She took bites too big for her mouth and stuffed whatever she wasn't chewing into the hollowed inside of her cheek like a chipmunk. She picked her teeth with her fingernails and put ketchup on everything, and she always drank half of whatever he was drinking. She could get as many refills as she wanted, free of charge, but she preferred to just steal his drink, leaving her lipstick imprint behind on the straw or the lip of the cup. And he found it endearing, in that way people do when they're so in love that nothing that person did could ever be a turn off.
Their first date started off as shit. They went to the pictures, but the one they wanted to see was sold out, so they saw something else, only it was terrible and they walked out half-way through in protest. But even though she complained and he couldn't get over just how much movies cost nowadays, she reached for his hand as they were walking down the street, so he knew it couldn't be a total bust. He offered up dinner instead and she shrugged. "Sure. Lead the way, Champ."
The first place they hit up was brimming with people and it was loud. He tensed up while they were waiting to be seated, flinching when people walked too close, squeezing past him, talking too loudly. He didn't have a good line of sight to the door and everybody was sitting so close together - too close together - that it was unnerving. His fingers twitched, his attention constantly elsewhere, his eyes scanning the room. He had to ask Darcy to repeat herself three different times because he couldn't focus just on her. She closed her menu, sighed, and stood up from the table.
He frowned, looking up at her, trying to block out the noise around him. And he knew he fucked up. He felt regret and shame well up in the pit of his stomach, because he knew she was going to tell him that it wasn't working and she'd find her own way back to the tower. It took him three months to ask her out on this date and he was screwing it all up. He was already trying to find a way to apologize, to ask her to give him another chance - "Please, doll, I'm just trying to get used to this; I can do better" - to explain that it was just the crowd and the noise and it was hitting all of his triggers.
But before he could get any of it out, she held a hand out for him to take. "C'mon. I know a diner a few blocks over. Best burgers you'll ever eat and it's almost definitely empty."
His brows hiked in surprise, mouth gaping a little.
She grinned, wiggling her fingers. "I don't have all night, Soldier. And I'm really craving a strawberry shake."
He nodded then, half-smiling, and took her hand, letting her lead him through the mess of people and too-close chairs, past the clattering of plates, scraping of cutlery, and the collection of noise, voices all clamoring to talk over each other.
When they stepped outside, he took a deep breath, trying to shake off the cloying, claustrophobic feeling of before. He watched his breath turn grey, like smoke, curling in front of him, coming out in a puff of relief as the noise became something more bearable.
"You all right?" she asked, squeezing his hand gently. "It's probably not easy… I forget sometimes, what it might feel like for you guys. I'm just a civilian, totally used to crowded… well, everything, so it doesn't bother me, really. But I bet it messes with you guys, always on the lookout. Can't really have an escape plan in a place like that."
He stared at her searchingly. "No, not really. I could probably just go out the giant window at the front, but I'd probably trip over half the chairs in there just trying to get to it."
She smiled then. "You could run across the tables. But chances are high that you'd step on somebody's pasta and trip, fall right on your ass, blow your BAMF cred right out the window…" She clucked her tongue disappointedly.
His mouth twitched, but his brow furrowed quickly after. "BAMF?"
"Badass motherfucker," she explained. "Do you carry one of those little 'Google this later' books, like Steve does?"
He reached behind him and dug the small notebook out of the back pocket of his jeans, waving it at her. "Comes in handy."
"I bet." She snatched it from his hand and released his so she could flip through it, nodding her head to tell him to walk with her as she started down the sidewalk. "Have you watched any of these movies?" she wondered.
He looked at the list over her shoulder, briefly distracted by the light scent of her perfume. Shaking his head, he refocused his attention on the pages full of his scribbled writing. "I don't even know where to start on half of it. Steve said it's better to watch it in chronological order, see how much everything's changed, but…" He shrugged.
"I could help you with it. Chronological order work for some things, but sometimes you just wanna watch something good." She tapped the notebook against her chin thoughtfully. "Why don't we get some dinner and then we'll pick a movie, watch it at your place?"
"Yeah?" he asked, wondering if he sounded half as hopeful as he felt right then. He cleared his throat. "That'd, uh, be nice, sure."
She grinned then. "A+ for effort; you sounded very laid back there. I almost believe you're not secretly pining away for me."
He chuckled under his breath and skimmed a hand through his hair as he arched an eyebrow at her. "Secretly? Thought I was being pretty obvious…"
"Only when you stare at me and think I don't notice…" She looked up at him, half-smirking. "Which you do a lot. And I notice, a lot. You might have to turn in your super-spy badge with Coulson."
"Yeah?" He stared down at her. "Maybe I wanted you to catch me."
"All part of your plan, huh?"
His mouth turned up on one side. "Worked, didn't it?"
"Night's not over yet, Sergeant…" She reached down for his hand and folded their fingers together.
"Good." He licked his lips and smiled when her eyes dropped to watch the progress of his tongue. "Got a little more time to impress you then."
Darcy raised her eyes up to meet his. "Impress away."
If asked later, he couldn't say what exactly he did that convinced her to take him up on a second date, or a third, or the many more that followed. But he was really glad she did.
Darcy was a naturally passionate person and sex was no different. She was unashamed, proud of her body, happy to share it with him, to laugh when things didn't go perfectly, to talk and communicate and make sure they were riding the same wave length. She was beautiful, all tousled hair and flushed cheeks and fingers folding with his, pulling him in close. Her favorite part was the build-up, it was pushing him back on the bed and stripping off every piece of clothing and layering every inch of skin with kisses, her fingers reaching and kneading and touching every part of him. There was no hesitation, no uncertainty, only a mutual drive for completion.
She was easy to get lost in. Every light touch, like he was delicate, something to be treasured, something she needed to take her time with. Darcy could do quick and fast, but he liked it better when it was slow and lingering.
They sat in the living room, on his couch, with her in his lap. Her fingers slowly pulled at his shirt, tugging it up and over his head, dragging it down his arms, her fingers stretched out to drag down each, tripping over the interlocking strips of metal that made up one. Shirt tossed away, she pressed her hands to his back, palms pressed flat to his skin, while she ducked her face down to his neck, letting her eyelashes brush against his skin, followed by her lips, just as soft, faint enough that he could have imagined her phantom kiss.
His hands skimmed up her thighs, under the fabric of her dress, fingers pausing over the thin straps of her underwear at her hips, and higher still, shuffling her dress up. He reached one hand up and undid the belt at her waist, unwrapping it from around her and tossing it toward the shoes she'd kicked off earlier. He skimmed a finger over one strap of her dress before curling it under and pulling it down her shoulder. Leaning back, slid her arms out from each strap and he tugged the front of her dress so the pink fabric all pooled at her stomach. Her bra was all black lace and hiding nothing. He cupped his hands over her breasts, thumbs rubbing circles over the pale, rosy nipples pebbled beneath. She arched into his hands before reaching up to pull the straps of her bra down her arms and around to undo the clasp at her back. The flimsy fabric fell loose, tossed away as he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her in closer, his mouth skimming over her shoulder and down her chest, pressing sucking kisses across her skin. She shivered, biting down on her lip as his chin, raspy with stubble, dragged over the tops of her breasts.
Her hands slid down between them at worked at the button and fly of his jeans, pushing the fabric down and out of the way as he lifted up. She cupped one behind his neck while her other wrapped around his shaft, pumping slowly, twisting her wrist, rubbing her thumb over the head of his cock. He buried his fingers in her hair, reaching in long waves down her back, and gripped it tight. He arched his hips up into her fingers, reaching down to tighten her grip on him the way he liked it. His knuckles dragged against her inner thigh as he slid his hand up to cup her, the fabric of her underwear damp. He pressed it to the side so he touch her, feel her wet and warm on his fingers. She let out a little breathless noise as he teased her open, his thumb rubbing circles around her clit. Darcy rocked her hips for friction, her breath stuttering as his finger curled up and slid inside her.
He brought her down for a kiss, their mouths slanting together, as his finger picked up speed. She squeezed his neck, nipping at his lips, and pressed her forehead to his as she spread her legs a little more. She panted his name against his mouth as he pressed his thumb to her clit, his hand dragging down her back and palming her ass, kneading and arching her hips for him. He kissed down her chin and scraped his teeth down her neck, sucking kisses at her collar bones before he ducked lower, his tongue swirling around one nipple, teeth gently digging in to her skin. She tightened around his finger, mumbling that she was close, so close, and he slid a second in beside it. It didn't take her long to come after that, her nails biting into his neck, and then she slumped against him, trying to catch her breath.
He rubbed one hand up and down her back soothingly, the other resting on her still trembling thigh.
"You remember when Stark kept bringing up how lethal your metal arm was?"
He brushed her hair back from her face to see her and nodded. "Mm-hmm."
"I can personally attest to the fact that those fingers are killer… Just not in the way he thinks."
He chuckled, leaning down to kiss her. She held him close, nuzzling his nose with hers, before finally leaning back and climbing off of him.
Grumbling disagreeably, he reached for her, tugging her back in by her hips. Laughing, Darcy pushed his hands down a little and brought her dress up and over her head, tossing it toward the coffee table. Curling his fingers around the sides of her underwear, he dragged them down her legs for her to step out of. Naked, she reached over and grabbed up her purse, taking out a condom while he shuffled the rest of the way out of his jeans and briefs.
She was all soft skin and curves as she climbed back onto him, her hair falling over her shoulder again, the ends brushing against the tops of her breasts. She grinned at him, dropping the condom on his chest. He tore the wrapper open with his teeth and rolled it on before reaching for her, one hand fitting around her thigh while the other found her fingers and knit them together with his own. She kissed him as she sunk down onto his cock, her breath hitching against his lips. She pressed her palm to his stomach and rocked her hips forward and back and around. He pressed up into her, his fingers digging into her skin as she clenched around him.
The way she said his name when she was riding him always made his gut tighten. The way she looked at him, her eyes half-lidded, the pleasure crashing over her face, the way her teeth dug into her lip, it sent waves of warmth through him. She was so fucking beautiful, her skin flushed and her head back. She slid her hand up his chest, her nails scraping against his skin. Her fingers wove into his hair and pulled him forward. He pressed a kiss to her chin and nuzzled his nose down her neck, breathing her in, sweat and perfume and the faint scent of her body wash. He licked a strip down her neck and buried his face in the crook as his hand wrapped around her hip and pulled her down harder, rising up to meet her, quicker and deeper.
Coherent thought spiraled out of reach. It was just fragments of pleasure and smells and sounds. It was Darcy and the taste of her skin, the feel of her pressed to him, around him, squeezing and fluttering, and so fucking good. It built and built until it reached its pinnacle and crashed over him, a wave of intensity that stole the breath from his lungs. He could hear her crying out against his ear, her body tensing up and then relaxing completely, and then they were just leaning against the couch, panting, sweaty, wrapped around each other tightly.
She pressed sloppy kisses down the slope of his neck and across his shoulder, never pausing as she met metal instead of skin. Somehow that, more than anything else, felt so much more intimate. It was acceptance, fully and completely, and she gave it to him without reservation. It was moments like those when he knew he could fall in love with her and never regret it.
Darcy loved dancing. With or without music, she always seemed to find a good reason to start dancing. Sometimes he walked by the labs and caught her mid-dance, usually on her own but occasionally pulling Stark or Jane or Bruce into an impromptu dance with her. And they balked sometimes -more Stark than the others, and usually just for show- but they always gave in. The music varied depending on which scientist she was with, but she always danced with the same kind of enthusiasm.
Whenever they went to galas, the only place she wanted to be was the dance floor. And if his feet got sore or he just needed a break, she waved him off to go sit somewhere while she searched out a new partner to keep up. She would take anybody, but her favorite was Steve. Not because he was good; in fact, it was probably because he was terrible. Steve, for all of his coordination, for some reason just could not tackle dancing. Slow dancing, sure, he mostly just swayed. But anything with complicated steps and it resulted in a lot of stepped on toes. Darcy never complained, though.
"Never ceases to amaze me how terrible his footwork is when music's involved," Sam said, taking a seat beside him at the bar, waving a finger for a drink as he put his empty glass down.
Bucky shrugged, absently swirling the ice in his drink. "Probably a good trade-off. Shitty dancing for everything else."
"Darcy seems to be enjoying it. She laughs every time he steps on her toes. Which is a lot."
His mouth turned up, amused. "Helps take the edge off. She's pretty sure he's only bad at dancing because he worries about it too much."
"Makes sense."
"Darcy's smart like that. About people." His gaze stayed on his best friend and his girl, moving around the dance floor, Steve's eyes stuck perpetually downward while Darcy told him where to move his feet, grinning at him knowingly, reaching up to raise his chin each time it dropped to concentrate. As per usual, focusing too much made Steve step on her toes, and while she smiled and shook her head as he apologized, Bucky knew he'd be rubbing her feet for her later.
Pushing off his stool, he clapped a hand to Sam's shoulder before he left, crossing the floor to his two favorite people.
Steve grinned when he saw him. "Come to save Darcy's toes?"
"That and your reputation. You keep stumbling around out here and somebody's gonna start wondering how you manage to stay upright in the field."
Steve snorted, rolling his eyes as he handed Darcy over to him. "Show me how it's done?" he joked.
"Gladly." Bucky took Darcy's hand and twirled her, bringing her in close so they were chest to chest. "Whattya say, Doll? You up for a spin on the floor with me?"
"Be still my heart, two superheroes in one night. I'll have to write home about this later." Wrapping an arm around his neck, she dragged her fingers down his neck lightly. "Save me another for later, Cap?"
"Sure," he agreed. "Maybe I'll get you to stand on my feet so I don't crush yours."
She winked at him. "Man with a plan; I like it."
He chuckled at her, shaking his head as he left.
Turning her attention back to Bucky, she smiled up at him. "You having fun?"
"More now." He rubbed a hand over the opening of her dress across her back. "You?"
"You know me, a little dancing and I'm golden." She tipped her head back and looked up at him from under her lashes. "You wanna duck out early?"
"Thought you wanted one more spin with Steve?"
"So we stay another hour, then we sneak out, get some real food, see what your to-watch list has to offer."
Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Sold."
Bucky liked dancing; it was one of his favorite pastimes. But more than dancing, he just liked holding her.
Darcy was the most impatient person he'd ever met in his life. Bucky wasn't sure if it was because she used up all her patience between Stark and Jane, but she complained anytime she had to wait on anything. When they went on dates, if there was a line, she only lasted five minutes, tops. She was no longer allowed to order out for food or ask how long it'd be because she always argued that there was no way it should take that long. When she wanted something, she wanted it immediately.
"Instant gratification; it's what I live for," she told him, standing in the living room, a glass of wine in one hand while she scrolled through one of her playlists on her iPod until she found something she liked. Kicking off her heels, she placed her iPod in the dock and turned the volume up a little.
He watched her foot, dressed in black stockings, slowly rub up the back of her calf. He licked his lips and raised an eyebrow. "How instant?"
She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder, her dark hair spilling down her back and a smirk turning up the corners of her red, red lips. "The only time waiting is good is when the pay-off is an orgasm or chocolate… or a chocolate-flavored orgasm."
He shook his head, grinning at her, and crossed the room to stand at her back. "Should I ask?"
She hummed, turning her eyes up thoughtfully. "The short explanation is me eating chocolate while you eat me."
Sliding his hands up her sides, he drew her hair to one side and laid it over her shoulder as he reached for the clasp on her necklace. "What's the long explanation?"
She watched her necklace drop, caught in his silver fingers and placed on the cabinet in front of her. "I'd tell you, but it'll take time and probably a demonstration…" She bit her lip as he pulled the zipper of her dress slowly down her back, his knuckle dragging softly against her skin "Interested?"
He laughed under his breath and drew her dress down her arms as he dropped his head down to press a kiss to her bare shoulder. "Always."
"Yeah?" She turned to face him, curling her finger into one of the belt loops on his jeans and giving it a tug. Raising up onto her tip toes, she bumped his nose with hers before she kissed him, just a quick peck, full of temptation and promise. "Fair warning, I probably won't share my chocolate with you."
He leaned in close, one hand buried in her hand and the other teasing up her thigh. "I think my mouth'll be busy anyway," he said, his voice husky.
Darcy nodded, leaning into him, her arm sliding around his neck. "So busy."
For all that Darcy was impatient, there were some things, really important things, that she could be patient about. Things she didn't push on, things she understood were a lot bigger than her, that she couldn't make better with complaining or wishing it so. And when Darcy needed patience, she had it in spades. Enough that he wondered when she'd get sick of it, when she'd finally just toss her hands up and step back, away, and forfeit. But she didn't.
The nightmares still hit him hard. Two years after leaving the muzzle behind and he still woke up in a cold sweat, panting, eyes wide, every muscle tensed.
Darcy stirred next to him, blinking sleepily, and stretched her body out beside him. "You want me to call Steve?" she asked, her voice thick.
He shook his head, short and sharp, hands balled up in the blanket.
Darcy's hand was soft and cool as it ran up his back gently; she rubbed in soothing circles for a few minutes before kicking her legs out from the covers and shuffling off the bed.
He'd been leaning into her touch, letting it calm him down, but having her pull away set a pang of panic up his spine. He bit back the words, the worried 'where are you going?' that climbed up his throat, and instead watched her progress.
She was wearing one of his shirts, the end reaching half-way down her thighs, and nothing else. Her hair was tangled and frizzy on one side. She reached up and pulled it off her neck, using the elastic around her wrist to tie it in a messy bun. Yawning, she walked out of the bedroom, stealing his slippers as she went, and he listened to the shuffle of them moving down the hall before he heard the clatter of a cupboard door and the rushing water of the kitchen tap. His shoulders relaxed minutely and he blew out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.
It wasn't that he thought she'd leave him, not really. In the last nine months, she'd seen more than her share of night terrors from him, a few of them a lot worse than this, but she'd stuck with him. Whether it was just keeping him company as he came down from it or calling in reinforcements to help him, she didn't complain. It didn't stop him from feeling like a burden, like he was interrupting her life with his issues. But Darcy always gave him a look when he brought it up, her 'don't give me that bullshit' look, and he figured if Darcy wanted out, she would've walked already.
She came back from the kitchen with a glass of cold water and handed it to him as she crawled across the bed to sit beside him again.
He guzzled the whole glass, panting a little when he finished, and put the empty glass on the end table before he fell back against the pillows, rubbing a hand down his face.
Darcy shuffled over, resting her chin on his shoulder, and looked up at him. "We can talk about it if you want to."
He considered it. It wouldn't be the first time he told her what his head came up with; scenarios, real and made up, that felt so real that they left him shaken and confused. And she listened without judgement. Sometimes she knew what to say and sometimes there just wasn't anything that could be said. But he didn't feel up to talking tonight, so instead he turned over, rubbing a hand over her tummy, and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "'m good," he said.
She stared up at him, considering his words, and then nodded. She turned over so her back was to his chest, and reached for her iPod on the bedside table. She flipped through it and found one of the playlists she'd made for him months ago. It was a mix of loud, angry, pulsing music that he could feel right down to his bones and other, more soothing songs that helped him come down. He wrapped himself around her, kissing her shoulder and her neck, and buried his face against her hair. He closed his eyes as the music began and let it consume him, let it take him away and reach inside him and piece back together all the fractured parts that couldn't be helped with superglue.
Her fingers stroked up and down his forearm lightly, a soothing repetition he could focus on. She would fall asleep long before he did, and when he followed, the nightmares would skip him that time, letting him find peace again. For a while.
[continue]