heaven from hell - t - darcy/bucky - 3/4 [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: 9,830
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: [11] | [12] | [13] | [14]
previous: [prologue] [the beginning]
so you think you can tell (heaven from hell)
-3/4-
II.
Darcy's way of telling him she wanted to move in was a short conversation. After two and a half years of dating, she said, "I'm lazy and I don't want to take the elevator home anymore."
So, they made home his apartment, which was a little bigger, with an extra bedroom and a larger kitchen and living room. Plus, the view on this side of the tower was better than hers, or so she told him. Moving was a lot easier than he thought it'd be, and it didn't come with all of the uncertainty he thought it would. They were solid; he didn't see himself backing out of the deal anytime soon. She spent most of her time at his place anyway, and half of her stuff was already mixed with his. So it just made sense. Plus, he liked it. He liked knowing that he would go to sleep each night and wake up every morning with her right there beside him. Not that he didn't already, but now there was a guarantee he would.
"We need to get rid of one of these toasters," she told him, an open box in front of her, half full of stuff of his she was getting rid of to make room for her own things. He wasn't complaining, exactly. Darcy liked color; all of her dishes matched. His were old, generic, plain white, with chips here or there. Simple. She had a real set; four dinner plates, small plates, bowls, and mugs, all of which were a chocolate brown color on the outside, with the inside painted blue, red, yellow, or green. She had a matching mixing bowl and a whole fleet of baking gear. His kitchen was going from basic to Martha Stewart, or so she told him. He had no idea who Stewart was, but apparently she would applaud how good his kitchen was about to look.
"I like toast," he said, sitting at the island, a bottle of beer in front of him. She'd been off work for an hour, but was still dressed up, and her new point of focus was emptying the boxes in the kitchen.
"So we'll keep the four-slice toaster and you can stuff your face with as much toast as you want. But we're getting rid of the extra toaster. When are you going to need six slices of toast at one time?"
He shrugged. "When Steve visits."
"Steve can bring his own damn toaster over when he visits then. Or you guys could make four, have two each, and while you're eating that, put on another four," she told him.
Bucky sighed, more than a little dramatically. "I don't know. That sounds like more work than just making it all at once."
Darcy rolled her eyes. "Are you purposely trying to piss me off?"
He half-grinned. "I wouldn't turn down angry sex."
"Really?" She turned to him, her head cocked and her hands on her hips. "Because I was more on board with 'happy we're living together' sex."
"Yeah, but you get rough when you're angry…" He smirked. "I like it when you're rough."
Darcy snorted. "You keep it up and 'rough' will be me throwing this extra toaster at your head."
Chuckling under his breath, he hopped off his stool and circled around the island to join her. "All right, I can live with four slices." He scooped the extra toaster off the counter and dropped it in the box with the other things of his she was donating.
"Thank you. Your sacrifice has been noted and filed away for future compensation."
He raised an eyebrow and reached for her, hands fitting into the dip of her waist and squeezing. "Yeah? How far into the future?"
"Mmm…" She hummed thoughtfully, her mouth twitching as he backed her up toward the island and lifted her onto it. "How busy is your morning?"
"I could move a few things around…" He reached for the flimsy fabric of her blouse and pulled it up from where it was tucked into her skirt. "Make some time for you."
"Yeah?" She grabbed up the end of his shirt and pulled it up and over his head, dragging it down his arms and tossing it away. Her legs wrapped around his waist and pulled him in close as her hands skimmed down his chest, fingers sliding under the waist of his low-slung sweatpants. "Wouldn't wanna put you out, though. I'm sure we could always make it up later. I hear patience is a virtue. Some people enjoy the anticipation."
"What happened to instant gratification, huh?"
He ducked his head down and kissed her neck, nuzzling his face against her as he undid the button at the nape of her neck and drew her top up and off her. He pressed lingering kisses down the slope of her shoulder, nipping at the strap of her bra as he reached around to undo the clasp. She reached behind her to undo the button and zipper of her skirt and shrugged her bra down her arms to toss out of the way. His lips trailed down her chest, nipping the top of one breast as he pulled her skirt and underwear down her hips, licking a stripe across her skin as she wiggled her hips to help.
Nodding, Darcy threaded her fingers in his hair and held him close, arching up into the scrape of his stubble against her skin. "Instant's good, too."
His hands dragged down her sides, squeezing and kneading, scooping under her thighs and spreading them further apart as he pulled her close to the edge of the counter.
Bucky kissed down her stomach, hitching one of her legs over his shoulder before he turned his head and kissed from her knee down her thigh. "You happy you moved in?" he asked, scraping his teeth over her skin.
She bit her lip and stared down at him before she leaned back on her elbows. "You know, I could use a little more selling on it. What are the upsides to this arrangement again?"
His mouth curled up in a smirk. "Your roommate's a good guy."
"Is he?" She licked her lips, letting out a shuddery breath as he rubbed his chin against the soft skin of her thigh, his hand skimming down the other, stopping only to frame itself around her pussy.
"Generous. A real giver." He looked up at her, enjoying the flush that bloomed on her cheeks and spread down her chest. "And focused."
As he buried his mouth against her, she let out a cracked moan. "Oh, I like focused," she agreed, arching her back up and tangling her fingers in his hair. He had a feeling this 'living together' thing was going to work out just fine.
Darcy was always loud when they argued. Well, she was loud when she was doing most things; that was just her personality. But in arguments, she stomped instead of walked and banged things around and raised her voice. It was a sight to see; sometimes he thought her hair frizzed up, like the fur on a cat raising when it was faced with an opponent. He was used to it. They fought sometimes, they talked it out, made up, had sex until one or both of them couldn't move, and that was that. It got easier over time, realizing that a fight wouldn't be the end of it all. In the beginning, sure, he got a little skittish, worried she might walk out and just not come back. But after three years together, he knew that sometimes she needed space, sometimes she needed to go out with the girls, get shitfaced, and talk about what an ass he was. But he was still her ass, so she came home and they figured their shit out, and they moved on.
But damn, if that woman couldn't make every fight feel like it was a production. And it wasn't just her, he knew it was him too. Where Darcy got loud, he got quiet. He brooded and shut down and refused to answer each grating noise she made. In part, because he knew it pissed her off, but also because that was just how he'd learned to deal with what he didn't like. Take a step back, show no emotion, analyze, consider options of survival, search out an escape plan, act. Only there was no escape, and Darcy wasn't aiming to kill him, just make him suffer a little bit.
Steve told him fighting was normal; that they wouldn't agree on everything and sometimes things built up. Darcy got upset when he got injured on missions; not because she didn't think he could handle himself, but because she knew he took risks. He maintained that they were calculated to give him the best chances of survival, but 'best chances' weren't good enough for her. And he got what she was saying; she didn't want to leave it up to chance, she wanted a definite. He couldn't give her that, so it was a sore spot.
On the flip side, he worried about her, too. She worked with three of the smartest people alive, sure, but things happened. Lab accidents, explosions, attempts on their lives, giant green rage monsters, etcetera, and he didn't want her in the crossfire of that. But, much like him, she argued that precautions were taken. Banner had his containment area, JARVIS was always on alert for problems, and the Tower was a veritable fortress. Only 'veritable' to him sounded like 'just about' and 'just about' wasn't 'complete and total.' So they fought about that sometimes, and it was a stupid thing to fight about, in his opinion. It made no sense to yell and argue and then walk away from each other when the whole reason they were fighting was that they were worried they might lose each other. But the fear was there and it was real and it had its way of hanging onto them, especially after a bad mission or a lab mishap. And they learned to cope.
But all of that was a given, considering their lives. It was the little things that really drove him nuts. Like her mother calling every week and Darcy avoiding it, making him answer and give some shitty excuse, because she only wanted to deal with Gina once a month, if that, and weekly was just too much for her. There wasn't much love between him and Gina, not after her visit made it pretty clear that she didn't have much respect for Darcy, so the phone calls were a struggle, to say the least. It was like pulling teeth on his part, trying to be polite while she complained to him that her daughter never had time for her and what was she even doing that she couldn't answer her phone at seven o'clock at night? Question and jab, repeat, and no pause for breath, or for Bucky to answer. Sometimes he left the phone on the arm of the chair and muted his side, watching TV while she ranted and raved. He'd only pick it up when her voice finally started to peter out, and then he'd offered a half-hearted, 'I'll let her know you called,' before hanging up. But it had reached a point of cringing whenever the phone rang and Darcy slinked as far away as she could get.
"If that's your mother, I'm not getting it," he called after her as she tried to sneak down the hall, a bowl of Cheerios in hand, her go-to snack when she was bored.
Sighing, she looked back at him, brows hiked. "C'mon, please…? I don't want to deal with her tonight."
"Yeah, well, neither do I. She's called every damn night, Darcy. Just put her out of her misery already. I'm sick and tired of listening to her complain about your aunt and how she's pretty sure you always have time to email her." He shook his head. "Tell her you're tired, it was a long day, you'll call her tomorrow. But Jesus Christ, talk to the woman."
She glowered at him, stomping toward the phone. "Fine. But if you think that's getting you out of hearing a Lewis complain, you're sorely mistaken. 'Cause as soon as I finish listening to her rant about how shitty a daughter I am, I'm coming out her to complain to you." She shoved her spoon in his direction meaningfully. "So you decide which one's worse." With that, she grabbed up her phone and grunted, "Yeah, hi, mom, sorry it's taken so long to talk…"
Darcy crossed her eyes and started toward their bedroom, hugging her bowl of cereal to her chest while still managing to give him the finger as she went. He was mildly impressed, and not really all that worried about her complaining later. She was pissed, sure, but she always felt guilty when she didn't talk to her mother, anyway. She might not like it, but Gina was still her family, and having Bucky deal with her for her was only a temporary solution. They'd talked before about how she needed to stand up to her, but actually doing it came and went. That first time Gina visited and Darcy dressed her down for her behaviour wasn't how she usually dealt with Gina, and since Darcy didn't see her every day or hear all of her many complaints regularly, it took a lot longer for her to finally lose it and tell her mother to back off. Maybe getting her to answer her own phone calls would help, or maybe it wouldn't. But at least he didn't have to listen to Gina for the next hour. And when it came to Darcy, he knew how to cheer her up.
So, despite the fact that he knew she was mad at him, unjustly in his opinion, he still made sure that when she wrapped up her phone call with her mom, she had her favorite cookie dough ice cream to dig into after. And when she curled up next to him, head on his shoulder, with her ice cream and two spoons, he knew it was a peace offering.
"I still might flake and make you deal with her in the future," she admitted, licking her spoon.
His mouth twitched as he dug a large bite out. "Yeah, I know."
"Still love me?" she asked, puckering her lips up to him expectantly.
He laughed under his breath and kissed her, licking melted ice cream from her mouth. "Still love you."
All in all, he could take a few fights; he'd fought worse.
Darcy always stole the blankets. It was basically an expectation at this point. He had no reason to think anything else would happen. As soon as she fell asleep, she automatically started twisting and turning until she was a lump, blankets wrapped all around her. He'd gotten smart about it early on and just started storing an extra blanket on the chair, in close reach for him to grab when he got cold. In the beginning, she used to tell him he didn't need it, that she shared just fine. Arguing with her accomplished nothing and she did share until she fell asleep, so he would wait until she was snoring in his ear and then reach for the blanket.
Of course, in the morning, she always argued. "I don't like it. Separate blankets now, sure, but what if it's a gateway blanket and next we'll have separate beds." She turned to him, her eyes wide, brows hiked high. "And then separate bedrooms and apartments and before you know it, separate lives entirely."
He bit the inside of his lip to keep from smiling, but she caught on and slapped his chest.
"It's not funny!"
He snorted, grabbing her hand and laying back on the bed. "Darcy, we're not getting separate beds. Or rooms, or apartments, or anything."
"Except blankets," she muttered grumpily.
"Yeah, well, it's either that or turn the heat up and then you'd complain you were too warm…" He shrugged. "This seemed like a smarter plan."
Sighing, more than a little dramatically, she plopped down beside him, her head on his shoulder. "It's just weird, isn't it? I don't know why I do it. I like being close to you when I go to sleep."
"You're still close to me, there's just an extra blanket."
"A blanket I'm not under," she reminded, tipping her head back to look up at him.
He smiled down at her, stroking a hand over her curly, sleep-tangled hair. "It's just a blanket, Darce. It doesn't change anything."
She pursed her lips, turning her face down and rubbing her nose against his chest. "Fine. But if we get separate beds, I vote bunk beds."
Bucky laughed and ducked down to press a kiss to her forehead. "Whatever you want."
Separate blankets or not, there was no chance they were getting separate beds, or lives, as far as he was concerned.
"This is an engagement ring."
Bucky blinked at him. "Yeah, I figured that out all on my own, punk. If this was a pop quiz, you'd be acing it. I'm not asking what it is, I'm asking you if you think she'd like it."
Steve stared down at the velvet box in front of him, his mouth gaping a little. "I just…" He blew out a long breath. "I know we talked about it before, about you and Darcy, long term, but… I didn't think it'd be this soon."
"We've been together four years… It's not that soon."
"Yeah, well, I spend so much time on undercover missions, the years get a little hard to keep track of." Steve sat back a moment, taking a long breath. "Four years. Really?"
Bucky half-grinned at him. "Yeah. Together four, living together a year and a half. You sure you didn't take a hit to the head on that last mission. You looked a little dazed after we took out that last wave."
"No, head's fine, just…" He laughed, a smile breaking out across his face. "I… I'm happy for you. It… It's weird, I guess. Half our lives feel like they're been lived in a warzone, waiting on the next shoe to drop, but you… You carved out a life for yourself. A good life. And you should be happy. You should be ecstatic. I mean… You and Darcy…" He shook his head. "She's perfect for you, Buck. And you're a lucky man."
"Yeah. Yeah, I am." He licked his lips, looking down at the box, and furrowed his brow. "So? You think she'll say yes?"
"You kidding?" Steve grinned at him, pushing the ring box back over for him to take. "Darcy'll probably talk Stark into hiring a sky-writer and have 'em write 'yes' outside your damn window." He laughed to himself, rubbing a hand over his chin. "Can't believe you're getting married before me."
"Never had any problem getting women, just had trouble keepin' 'em."
"I don't think you worried too much about that until you met Darcy…" Steve's smile softened then. "I mean it, I'm really happy for you. You deserve this."
Bucky shrugged, dropping his gaze to the table.
"You know I'm right, don't you?" Steve stared at him searchingly. "You've had a tough time… Life wasn't easy on you. A lot of things happened, things I'd change if I could, but… Where you are now, who you are, who you're with, who you've become, that… that's not anything I'd change."
"No?" Bucky raised his eyes to meet his searchingly. "I still think about it, the things I did, the people that I…" He ground his teeth and looked away, his brow furrowed tightly. "I think about that, who I was before, and I wonder what the hell she's doing with a guy like me." He picked up the velvet box and rolled it around in his hand. "And then she looks at me and she tells me I'm an idiot. Hand to God, that woman's got telepathy or something, 'cause she always knows when I get weird and start doubting myself."
"She doesn't need telepathy… She just knows you. You said it yourself. Four years." Steve grinned then. "She stuck with your sorry ass this long, what makes you think she doesn't know you?"
Bucky snorted, his mouth ticking up on one side, and he nodded, scrubbing his fingers over his chin. "Yeah."
Steve stared at him a long moment. "You love her?"
He didn't hesitate. "More than anything."
Nodding, Steve grinned. "Then marry her."
"Simple as that?"
Steve let out a faint laugh. "Yeah, Buck. Simple as that."
He had it all planned out to a T. It was going to be elaborate, involving all of their friends. He spent a couple weeks going over details with everybody, making sure Sif would be planet-side, that everybody Darcy loved would be around for it. It was going to be something they could tell their kids and their grandkids. Jane and Sif were going to take her out for brunch at her favorite restaurant and talk her into going for manicures and pedicures. Pepper was going to invite her out for an impromptu shopping spree and get her a new outfit for the occasion. Steve would be the one to get her upstairs to the ballroom; there she would find all of her friends, her favorite aunt and cousins, maybe even her mother, depending on how Gina was treating her lately. He had all of her favorites picked out; flowers, music, food. But he should have guessed things wouldn't go exactly to plan.
The night before he had everything planned out, they went for a walk. Darcy wore her rattiest jeans and one of his sweaters, pulling her favorite beanie on over her hair, which he was half-sure she hadn't even bothered to brush that day. They weren't going anywhere in particular. Sometimes she just got tired of being in Stark Tower and wanted to get some fresh air, so they walked aimlessly around New York, picking up a coffee or a hot chocolate on the way. They were a few blocks from the tower and stopped at a corner, waiting for the light to change, when she stepped in front of him, pulling out a grey beanie from her bag and fitting it over his head, pulling it down the way he liked it and brushing his hair back.
"Warmer?" she asked, tucking it over the tops of his ears.
The grin he gave her was lopsided. He took her hands down from his face and kissed her palms before he pulled her in, hugging her and rubbing a hand up and down her back. Darcy rested her face against his chest, her arms loose around his waist. With his chin on top of her head, he watched the lights, waiting for them to give the go-ahead to cross.
"Hey?" she said, plucking at the back of his sweater to get his attention.
He rubbed his chin over her head. "Hm?"
"So I've been thinking…"
"Yeah?"
"Yeah, and I think we should get married."
He went still, his eyes wide and his brows raised. The light changed, telling them they could walk, but he didn't move an inch. He opened his mouth but nothing came out. This wasn't the first time they'd discussed marriage before. There was a reason he had a ring at home and a proposal all planned out. They'd talked about it a few times, in that 'one day, we'll get married and have kids' way. But 'one day' was always attached, and it was only recently that he'd realized he wanted that day to be now. Hence why he'd spent the last few weeks planning out his proposal.
"We've been together four years and I like what we have. Okay, 'like' is an understatement. I wouldn't be asking you if I didn't think this was something I really wanted. That you're what I want. As in, always, and forever, and all of those cheesy words people throw out when they look at someone and think 'hey, I think I could spend my life with you and wouldn't mind calling you husband,' you know? Which is what I think when I look at you. That I could spend the next fifty or sixty years with you. Or however many we've got. And that'd be cool. If you want." She sighed. "I think I'm screwing this up, because it made a lot more sense when I was thinking it and now my mouth is being a betraying betrayer and it's not coming out the way I want it to, and you're not saying anything, and that's freaking me out. So just… say something. Okay?"
His mouth opened and closed before he finally asked, "Are you… proposing right now?"
"I'm not… not proposing…" she hedged. "It depends on your answer."
Turning his eyes up, he let out a huffing laugh and shook his head. "You just… couldn't wait one more day?"
Frowning, she looked up at him. "I'm confused. The question is more of a 'yes or no' kind of thing…"
He bit his lip as he smiled and reached a hand up, brushing her hair back from her face. "You know, just for the record, I had a plan. I had a huge proposal figured out. As in, your aunt is flying in tomorrow with your mom and your cousins. And Sif and Jane are gonna wake you up and take you out all morning so we can set up the ballroom. So just, later, when we're telling our grandkids about how you proposed to me on a street corner, just remember that my original proposal had a chocolate fountain, all right?"
Darcy's eyes widened before she slapped his chest. "You got me a chocolate fountain!?"
He laughed. "I did."
"Okay, okay…" She bounced back onto her heels. "Okay, pretend I didn't say anything. We're gonna do it your way." Grinning excitedly, she turned, her arm still looped around his waist. "C'mon, I'm buying you dinner at your favorite hot dog vendor."
He chuckled, pressing his face down against her beanie. "This mean you're gonna say 'yes'?"
"Shush, I don't know anything about what you're talking about, no proposals have been made on street corners," she told him, bouncing a little, her fingers flexing against his side.
He couldn't stop grinning the rest of their walk, and neither could she. She pretended she was completely surprised when Sif and Jane turned up the next morning, even if she was a little over the top, and she went along with everything, feigning complete shock. And when he got down on one knee and finally asked her to marry him, for real this time, she accepted his ring and, in between kisses, said, "No take-backs." As if he'd ever want to.
Darcy wore red heels with her wedding dress. The brightest red he'd ever seen in his life. They peeked out from beneath her dress when she walked, and they were so her that it made something twist up in his chest.
It was Thor that walked her up the aisle, grinning proudly, his head held high, arm wrapped in Darcy's. He stood beside her like it was the highest of honors, like she was a treasure and he was filled with gratitude that she would allow him to stand at her side.
Bucky imagined that was what he looked like every day since he met her.
Thor paused before Bucky, saying sincerely, "It is with great joy that I would see you, my brother in arms, wed my friend and my shield sister. I put my trust in you to honor her as she is due, and to love her as she so loves you." He raised Darcy's hand and pressed a kiss to the top before he placed it in Bucky's outstretched palm. With a bow of his head, Thor stepped back, moving to take his seat at the front beside Banner.
Darcy grinned back at Thor, winking at him, before she let Bucky lead her up to stand in front of him. She turned to pass her flowers off to Jane, who stood, beaming, beside Sif, and tangled her fingers with Bucky's, wrinkling her nose up at him as she smiled.
He squeezed her hands, grinning down at her.
He would be hard-pressed to tell anyone what the minister said, his attention staying solely on Darcy. Her hair was down, falling in curls, looking delicate and soft. She was beautiful. She always had been, from the moment he met her. It wasn't any one thing but a collection of everything. How stubborn and loud and excited she was. How she would happily break into a dance at any given moment, off-beat and ridiculous, but so enthusiastic. It was that gleam in her eye when she got to rant about something she'd studied and knew like the back of her hand. It was the way she laughed; and there were so many different ways she did. Just like her smiles; they were all shades of happiness, levels of amused, and she saved the biggest and the loudest for him. It was how she reached for him at night, how her fingers slipped between his, metal or fresh, and never seemed to find any difference in them. She was beautiful when she just woke up and she had crust in her eyes and drool dry at the corner of her lips. She was beautiful when she was angry and when she was sad and when she cried at Disney movies or cheered during sports games.
She was beautiful.
He remembered saying, "I do." He remembered even more how her lips shaped the words in return. He remembered taking the wedding band from Steve and sliding it on her finger while she did the same to him. He remembered it, but it didn't feel real; it felt like a dream too good to be true. He'd had dreams like those; they were almost as bitter as the nightmares. Hope used to leave an ashy taste in his mouth, but that was Before. Before Steve. Before he got his memories back. Before Darcy. Before. And it was over now. Now he woke up next to Darcy every morning. He had his best friend back and a team he could trust. He had a life; a good life. And he deserved this.
Finally, the minister was saying, "By the power vested in me by the state of New York, I now pronounce you, husband and wife. You may kiss your bride." And Darcy, being Darcy, reached her hand up around Bucky's neck and brought him down to her, slanting her mouth over his laughing lips. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in tight, squeezing hard enough to prove to himself that it was happening, she was real and solid and not a figment of a fractured, desperate mind. And she didn't complain.
Instead, she nuzzled his nose with hers, clicked her ruby red heels, and whispered, "There's no place like home."
And he laughed, even as a tear tripped down his cheek. He buried his face against her neck and smiled. Because he'd never been happier, and she was right. She was home. They were home.
[continue]