Marvel-ous Birthdays

“It’s fine,” Jane muttered distractedly, gaze sliding back to her notes.

Too busy taming a stray curl, Darcy didn’t notice Jane wandering back to her work station and playing with a few dials. Nor did she notice Jane move around to the other side, or when the unfamiliar heels caught on a loose cord, sending Jane crashing into the dashboard. She did notice the flash of white light that filled the room, momentarily blinding her. As she blinked the spots away, someone grabbed her hand.

“C’mon, let’s dance.”

She yanked her hand away - or tried to. His grip was too strong.

“Don’t be like that,” the guy said, dim lights reflecting off his greasy hair.

“Get off me!”

Before it could do any further, a figure stepped up beside her, at least half a head taller than her, even in heels.

“You heard the dame,” the new guy said. “Leave her alone.”

“She your girl?” The first man met the other guy’s stare and faltered. “Sure, whatever,” he muttered.

“Thanks,” Darcy said, turning to her rescuer and hoping she wouldn’t have to fend off his unwanted advances as well.

He grinned. “Couldn’t leave a pretty dame in trouble now, could I? If you want me to scram as well, just say the word.”

Charmed by his easy offer, she smiled up at him. “And if I don’t want you to go?”

His grin grew broader. “Well then, it is a dance. How about we dance?”

Darcy looked around in surprise. He was right, it was a dance. Had Jane transported her downstairs? Out has she been knocked out or somehow didn’t remember leaving the lab? Whatever it was, the room looked great. Tony’s decorators had done a fantastic job of transforming the blank event space into a dance hall exactly in line with the forties theme.

She scanned the crowd and couldn’t see Jane - but the stranger was still looking at her, though his smile had faded somewhat. She realised he was waiting for her answer.

“Sure, I’d love to dance,'' she answered belatedly and took his hand.

Darcy wasn’t exactly good at dancing, but her partner held her with enough confidence that they spun around the room effortlessly, chatting about nothing and laughing about everything. One song merged with the next until they were flushed and her feet were aching. She stumbled and her partner slowed, frowning slightly. “Can I get you a drink?”

Breathlessly, Darcy nodded, and he led her to the seats on the side of the room. “Wait here.”

She sank into the seat with a relieved sigh and took another look for Jane. Not only could she not see her friend - not hugely surprising, given Jane’s height - she didn’t recognise anyone in the room, not even Tony or his superhero buddies. 

“Looking for someone?” her partner asked, reappearing from the crowd with a drink in each hand.

“My friend,” she explained, pausing when his face darkened. “She promised to keep me company because neither of us know anyone but I think I lost her.” Darcy made a rueful face. “I feel really bad now.”

Face clearing, he handed her a glass and took the seat beside her. “I’m sure she’ll turn up. Where did you last see her?”

Darcy sipped at her drink, trying to remember. She’d definitely been upstairs with Jane, but she’d been alone when that guy had grabbed her, and… had that been a flash of light? Her brow creased and she looked down at her glass, surprised to find it empty. She must have been more thirsty than she’d thought. Putting the glass on the floor by her chair, she looked over at her partner - and damn, she really needed to get his number. And, you know, his name. He had this lopsided smile and a way of looking at her that made her insides swoop.

“Do you want to go look for your friend?” he offered.

She nodded. “Yeah, I think I need to.” Standing, she flashed him a smile. “I’m Darcy, by the way.” Before he could respond, she pressed a light kiss to his lips. The last thing she saw was his stunned expression before everything went white. Again.

“Darcy?” Jane asked, and Darcy blinked hard, turning to see her friend half-collapsed over the workstation. “Did you see that?”

“Did I see - I -” Darcy gulped. She was in the lab again, her tube of lipstick still open next to the mirror she’d brought from her suite. A quick glance at her phone confirmed the party had started only ten minutes ago, five minutes since the last time she remembered checking it, but her feet throbbed as if she’d been standing all day - or dancing. “Jane, what did you do?”

“I don’t know,” Jane admitted. “There was a flash of light and then everything went all shimmery. I couldn’t even see you for a while. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” Her head spun and she exhaled hard. Living at Avengers Tower was never dull, that was for sure. “Ready to go?”

~~~

Steve nudged him in the side. “Looks like Stark went all out on the decorations.”

He forced a smile, wishing he could slink away from the podium Howard’s kid had set up for his ‘surprise guests of honour’. “Man does know how to throw a party.”

“You used to love this,” Steve mused. “Danced with a different girl every night. Sometimes more than one.”

No, he’d gone to the officer dances to find her, the one who stole a kiss along with his heart before disappearing into the crowd. With the resurgence of his memories, it felt like yesterday that she - his thoughts stuttered to a halt. “This your friend?” he asked, without thinking.

Darcy beamed and held up her friend’s hand. “Yep! Found her. This is Jane.” Dropping her hand, she stepped closer, and he jumped off the podium to stand in front of her, ignoring Steve’s worried questions. “Is this a dream?” she murmured, almost to herself.

The first thought to cross Bucky’s mind was: What the—? You’re my platonic soulmate? The second was that, no, surely the universe wouldn’t be so cruel as to bring someone into his life in the middle of this mess, would they? He was in no shape to be any good for anybody, and if there was somebody he was still capable of being a good friend to, it was Steve Rogers, and Steve Rogers only. He wasn’t in the right mindset – no pun intended – to be making new friends right now, and he didn’t need the man in front of him.

Still, there was no harm in saying something, and gauging the guy’s reaction. “Where the hell’s Steve?” He’d better be around here somewhere, or Bucky was going to find a way to break out of this restraint and go find him.

Eyebrows rose on the face of the man across from him, surprise flickering through his features, there and gone and rapidly followed by a mask of calm. “Is that how it’s gonna be?” he muttered, gaze sweeping across Bucky as he reassessed him, probably measuring him up alongside the new information Bucky had apparently just given him.

Bucky glared for a second before he slouched back down, too exhausted right now to even muster a convincingly threatening expression. He groaned, looking again at the clamp that was holding his arm in place.

“Alright, then,” the man muttered to himself. “Nobody cares about Sam Wilson.” Bucky didn’t tell Sam Wilson he was wrong, so the next, far more helpful, thing Sam said was, “Hey, Cap.”

~~~

Sam Wilson was as sassy as little Steve had ever been, Bucky decided to himself in the middle of a crazy airport fight between a giant man, a boy with spiderwebs, and Natalia Romanova, to name a few of the participants. He was also a little more capable of pulling his weight in a fight, which Bucky could appreciate. Just… not while they were trapped to the ground because of spiderwebbing, with Sam having the gall to tell him to shut up.

She pulls her hand out of his and turns in his arms, expression disbelieving even in the dark, even with the pillow lines on her face and her eyelids half-closed. He holds her gaze, knowing what she’s searching for. He would never lie to her, but he lets her look anyway.

“It was a good dream,” he tells her softly. “I wish I could remember, but it was good.”

Everything feels good like this. The nightmares are few and far between, the panic attacks fewer and easier to handle. He will always have the pain, but he will always have Wanda, too. 

His hand curls around her side, thumb stroking over her ribs where the lines mark her skin. She lifts her hand and mirrors his movements, lighting him up with the same warmth she must be feeling. Something he assumed he’d never feel, only heard about from others, until they locked eyes across a parking garage.

In the true pattern of their lives, it came at the most inopportune time. There was no time for a conversation between soulmates in a parking garage in Germany, with Steve telling them to suit up and Wanda’s teammates coming to capture both of them. He didn’t know her, or the white-haired boy at her side hovering over her every move, but everything in him had howled at leaving her behind on that tarmac. It was wrong, wrong, <i>wrong</i>.

Something happened to break the pattern, though. It led him to Wakanda. It gave him Shuri and her bright smiles and unerringly positive attitude about fixing the junk in his head. It sent him a new arm, one that still felt like a weapon but one that he’d happily carry to protect the people he loved. Dubiously, he had the remote forgiveness of Tony Stark and a friendship with Steve again, no matter how strained. Whatever chink in the universe that had allowed him all of these small bits of happiness had bestowed him with a tiny hut in a country where he felt valued and useful.

The most miraculous of all was that through all of this, he had a soulmate.

Wanda smiles up at him sleepily, her fingers tracing the swirls on his ribcage. “Perhaps you should go back to sleep and see if you can finish your dream.”

“Perhaps,” he says, teasing her. 

He slides his hand lower, abandoning the symbol that marks her as his, smoothing his palm over the curve of her hip instead. If she’s truly tired enough, she’ll swat him away. She doesn’t. Instead, she scoots closer and he dips his head to kiss her, long and slow. Her hands move up his chest and clasp around his neck instead and he groans into her mouth. 

Sometimes, the bond between them creates a heat that neither of them can resist. It’s led to frantic post-mission meetings in supply closets and near-misses in the community kitchens.

There’s heat now, but it builds slow and pleasurable in Bucky’s gut as he rolls to position himself on top of Wanda. Her thighs grip his hips, warm and soft, and he nips her lips while guiding them higher on his waist. When he breaks away from her mouth to breathe, she looks up at him with red flashing in her eyes, and suddenly the slow build doesn’t seem like enough.

It won’t do to hurt her, and seeing her carefully crafted expressions give way to genuine pleasure is one of his favorite past times, so Bucky intends to do just that. Wanda rubs his back, her painted nails digging faint lines into his skin and setting his blood on fire while he adjusts between her legs. When he’s settled, his cock is nestled against the lips of her pussy. She lifts her hips, trying to take him inside, and he pushes her firmly to the bed with a tut.

“Not yet, doll,” he tells her. “Patience.”

She whines at that, because his witch has absolutely <i>no</i> patience for the things she wants. But he ruts into her, sliding against her hard clit, and she changes her tune abruptly.

The rhythm is easy, and soon she’s slick enough that he’s worried he’s not giving her the friction she needs. His worry goes completely out the window when she stiffens with a wordless cry, her head tipping back against the bed and exposing her throat.

It’s an irresistible invitation. Bucky dips his head and bites at her skin gently, sucking a mark near her collarbone while she grinds into him to ride out her high. He waits until she goes slack against the bed and then he rolls them again, pulling her limp body on top of his.

“Unnecessary,” Wanda huffs out as she rises up with her hands braced on his chest.

Bucky perks an eyebrow at her. “Complaining about orgasms?”

“Never,” she says, lifting up and reaching between them to grab his cock. “I just prefer them with you inside me.”

His mind blanks as she sinks down onto him. The visual itself is enough, Wanda leaning over him with her hair mussed on one side and her body on display, but the wet heat gripping him tight doesn’t hurt, either.

They move together, Bucky never able to stay still even when she’s in control. His hands slide over her body, mapping out her stomach and the curve of her ass and the twin swells of her breasts. Wanda’s rhythm is careful and controlled until he flicks one of her nipples with his cybernetic thumb. She whimpers, leaning back to change the angle and give herself less leverage to move.

“You’re beautiful,” Bucky says. 

His breathing picks up as hers does and the quiet hut fills with the sounds of their lovemaking. Wanda lets out gasping moans, increasing in volume when he plants his hands on her hips and holds her still to thrust into her repeatedly from below. 

“James,” she breathes. “Please.”

Better than any dream, he thinks. 

One of her hands is pressed to his ribs, spreading warmth all along his soulmark, but he grabs the other and guides it between them. He could touch her all by himself, but he loves seeing her do it, watching her explore her body and ratchet up the pleasure he gives her. She frames her clit with her middle and index fingers, keeping rhythm with his relentless strokes, one, two, three, and then she’s coming again.

Her body jerks on top of him, her pussy pulses like the sweetest vise, and Bucky groans, planting his hand firmly on her hip to keep her steady. He goes still beneath her, guiding her through her aftershocks slowly and then bringing her down hard onto his cock until he follows her over the edge.

More sweat cools on his skin and Wanda is still in his arms, slumped over with her face tucked into his neck. He rubs her back with his flesh hand, twisting her hair between his fingers with a lazy smile.

She must feel it, or maybe she can hear the quiet in his head, because she smiles against his neck too. “Do not get cocky. This will not happen every time you wake me in the middle of the night.”

Bucky laughs at that, the mark on his skin flaring. The universe has taken so many things from him. He will never get to hold Becca’s hand again, or forget the faces that haunt him on his bad nights, or step foot in Brooklyn ever again.

Even a week later, long since the swelling in her throat went down and her face settled from a beet to her usual, only slightly ruddy complexion, he just couldn’t stop slipping into her office with a gourmet lunch over an hour before her lunch break actually started.

“Hey Pep,” he said on Friday. He was wearing his best suit and carrying a cooler. “I got you some sushi. It’s your favorite from that one Japanese place.”

“Is that the Japanese place here in Malibu or the one in Japan?”

Tony bit his lip, suddenly refusing to meet her eye. “Well…”

Pepper pinched the bridge of her nose. “Tony, you can’t fly halfway across the world to get me lunch.”

“Sure I can,” he said, looking affronted. “I upgraded the suit to fly faster on less fuel-”

“Okay, then you shouldn’t fly halfway across the world for lunch. How about that?”

“I just wanted to make it up to you for our anniversary-”

“Tony, for the thousandth time, it was not your fault.” Pepper was starting to get that throat closed feeling again, but it might’ve just been the headache playing tricks on her. “There was no way you could’ve known I’m allergic to hydrangeas. I didn’t even know.”

“Yeah, but I’m still the one who got the hydrangeas,” Tony said, hunching over. “If I had just gotten roses or dandelions like a normal person. None of this would’ve happened, and we could still be on the French Riviera right now having cocktails by the ocean.”

“No we wouldn’t, because I had six meetings this week,” Pepper replied. “And dandelions? Really?”

“What? I like them,” Tony said.

There really was no arguing with him. After so many years, Pepper didn’t know why she even tried. No matter how angry, annoyed, or exasperated she was with his antics, every attempt to ream him out ended in her grinning like a fool. Now that they were married, it also ended in sex. 

She was kind of craving seafood anyway.

“You can have lunch with me this time,” she said, motioning at the chair he was already in the process of pulling up. “After this, you have to let it go. I’m fine now, and we know not to do that again in the future.”

“But have I really apologized enough?” Tony wondered out loud, tapping his chin in deep thought.

“Yes, you have,” Pepper said.

“Have I?”

“Yes!”

“How about a do-over this weekend? Rio de Janeiro is nice this time of year.”

Pepper sighed, hiding a smile. “If it’ll get you out of my office so I can work, absolutely.”

“It’s a date!” 

They kissed on it. Once, twice, and then a few more times. Tony would not stop kissing her. Each time was longer and harder, making Pepper feel hotter in certain key places.

“Tony-” she gasped as he trailed down to her neck. “What are you- ah!”

“What a nice sound,” he growled. “I think I’ll bite there again.”

“This is inappropriate.” He was on her desk now, pulling her up with him. Somehow, the button was pressed to lower the blinds. The doors would automatically lock and all personnel would receive an alert that the boss was not to be disturbed for at least the next few hours. 

“Yes it is,” Tony agreed, unbuttoning her shirt. “That’s why it’s fun.”

Every time. Every single time they argued. Pepper really should’ve known better by now. 

But she couldn’t really complain. The man’s hands were good for so much more than forging metal.

“Happy Anniversary,” Pepper murmured as she kissed his ear.

“Happy Anniversary,” he said.

“Your father has personal experience of the influence the Mindstone can have over one’s thoughts… and that was without someone else actually consciously wielding it against him.” Loki placed a hand against his chest, apparently unconsciously. “You might ask Barton if what he did when under the stone’s influence felt right and logical at the time.”

Darcy bit her lip. Everyone had long since made it clear to Clint that they didn’t blame him for what he’d done when under the control of the Mindstone, but they were all so wrapped up in remembering Loki was the one who’d given Clint the orders, they forgot Loki himself was under control and under orders at that time, although Thor had told them and Wanda had even delved Loki’s mind to confirm the truth of it.

“Were you under the stone’s influence when you brought the Frost Giants to Asgard?” she asked. “Or when you sent the Destroyer to New Mexico?”

“No. Only that of my own hubris, and a desperate need to impress my father.”

Darcy knew exactly how that felt. Even though she’d always known Tony Stark was her father, and he’d always acknowledged her, she’d never felt like she was enough for him. Interesting enough to distract him from living out his playboy lifestyle, smart enough for him to be proud of her. She’d done some dumb shit before Tony finally wised up to what she was trying to do and, in his inimitable way, pilled her aside and told her quite directly to stop it. That he loved her just as she was. Obviously Odin had been much more crap at letting Loki know he mattered.

Although if Darcy had an older sibling as perfect as Thor appeared, she supposed she might have a whole ‘nother stack of insecurities to deal with, too.

“I don’t think you’re a terrible person,” she said finally.

“That’s good.” He smiled at her, green eyes sparkling. “I’d hate to think your taste in men was that bad. I know I’m sexy, but I don’t think I’m hot enough to overcome your good judgement.”

She started to laugh. “So modest.”

“False modesty has never been one of my vices, of which I do admit to quite a number.”

“Oh yeah?” Leaning on his chest, Darcy raised an interrogative eyebrow. “Like what?”

“A certain amount of vanity, and - this one is a family failing - a firm belief in my own rectitude.” He smirked. “Plus one other, in which I have rarely had the opportunity to indulge.”

She couldn’t imagine what that might be. He’d been raised a prince of Asgard, indulged and rich beyond imagining for almost a thousand years. So naturally, she asked what.

“One of what you Midgardians consider one of the seven deadly sins.” His grin turned wicked, long arms snaking around her, inhuman strength shifting her atop his body. Her eyes widened as she discovered the evidence of his arousal.

“Lust?” she asked, suddenly breathless.

“That’s the one. You inspire lust in me, Darcy Lewis-Stark, lust such as I have not felt in a long, long time. Courtship customs here on Midgard are unfamiliar to me, so I must fall back on honesty and ask; do you share this vice?”

“Oh definitely,” Darcy said. “Definitely. But I don’t think on my dad’s couch is the right place to indulge it.”

“You could be correct in that, much as I am occasionally tempted to tweak your father’s nose just to annoy him,” Loki agreed. “Despoiling his daughter on his couch is a step too far. Even for me.”

“Despoiling?” She had to laugh. “Is that something that can be done mutually?”

“I have no doubt we can make the effort. In my quarters? I have a large and comfortable bed with fine silk sheets…”

“I can’t believe this is happening at last,” said Steve.

“Me neither,” Darcy replied. “Tell me more about this fancy proposal you planned.”

“Oh, well, it’s nothing too fancy,” Steve said. “Um, I’ve ordered your favourite takeout and there’s  cheesecake for dessert. One or two dozen bouquets of flowers to set the scene.”

Darcy drew away slightly and peered up at him with wide eyes and eyebrows halfway up her forehead. “That’s a lot of flowers, Steve.”

Steve shrugged sheepishly. “I couldn’t decide which ones I liked the most.”

Darcy snorted and tucked herself back into Steve’s side.

“I suppose you had a speech all planned out as well?”

“Oh, you’re still getting the speech,” Steve assured her. “It’s got some very important words in it.”

“I can’t wait.”

Reaching the edge of the park, they crossed the road. Two turns and three side streets later they were standing in front of their apartment door.

“Are you ready?” Steve asked, hand on the doorknob.

Darcy nodded and Steve opened the door.

Stepping into the living room, Darcy gasped. One or two dozen bouquets of flowers was an understatement. There were vases and arrangements on every available surface, in a rainbow of colours.

“Oh, Steve. They’re beautiful.” She moved further into the room, sniffing at random arrangements as she passed them. “Oh my god, and they smell!”

“I went to an independant florist and specifically asked for flowers with scent,” Steve said. “They won’t last as long but what’s the point of flowers if you can’t smell them, right?”

She turned to look at him, her whole face lit up with happiness. “They’re wonderful.”

“I’m glad you like them.” He followed her through the room, enjoying her delight in the flowers.

“I love them.”

She bent down to breathe in the scent of another bunch of flowers and even though she’d already asked him to marry her and they’d said yes to each other, a wave of nervous anticipation rolled over him. This could still go balls up.

There was a knock on the door.

“That’ll be our dinner,” Steve said, relieved at the interruption. He collected their order, taking it straight to the kitchen.

“We gonna eat first?” Darcy asked, following him. She’d tucked a daisy behind her ear and looked so happy his breath caught in his throat.

“Pizza is best eaten hot,” he replied, busying himself with arranging the pizza boxes on the kitchen counter and pulling out plates.

“It is,” agreed Darcy. “Feed me, Steve! Feed me.”

After they ate, Steve poured them a glass of wine each and they retreated to the couch.

“I guess we’ve gotten to the secrets part of the evening, huh?” Darcy asked. She set her glass on the coffee table and turned toward him, tucking her legs underneath her. “Who goes first?”

“I think I’d like to go first,” Steve replied.

“Hey, you don’t have to be nervous. I promise not to run away screaming… well, not immediately anyway.” She winked at him.

“So, you know how I work in international search and rescue?” he said, deciding to start with the easy bit… because telling your new fiance you actually work for a super secret spy agency was easier than telling her you were actually a 95 year old superhero, right?

“I am familiar with that fact, yes.”

“Well, it’s not so much search and rescue as it is intervention and enforcement,” he said, watching her face carefully. “The full name of the organisation I work for is Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division.”

Darcy blinked. “You work for S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

Steve blinked too. “You know S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

“Um, yeah. I kind of work for them too.”

“What?” Steve wondered if this what flummoxed felt like.

“I work with Jane Foster,” Darcy said. “I was with her in New Mexico when Thor arrived.”

“You know Thor?” Yep. Flummoxed. “I thought you were just a fan.”

Darcy giggled. “I mean, yeah. I’m a huge fan but we’re also best buds. I can introduce you if you want.” She grinned, waggling her eyebrows as she did so.

A knot loosened in Steve’s chest. If she was already friends with Thor, then surely the revelation of his own true identify wouldn’t be a big deal- as big a deal.

“Actually, I already know him.”

“You do?” Darcy’s eyes widened in delight and her grin got wider.

Steve nodded and decided to just drop the bomb, as it were. “I’m the Steve Rogers,” he said. “I’m Captain America.”

Darcy’s mouth dropped open and her eyes almost popped out of her head.

“You’re kidding.”

Steve’s heart beat faster and he shook his head.

“Nope,” he replied, aiming for nonchalance by having a sip of his wine. His heart thudded in his chest.

Darcy continued to gape at him silently and then she stood up, the abruptness of her movement startling him.

“Is that- is that a problem? Darcy?”

She moved down the couch and took his face between her hands. “No problem at all,” she said, kissing him. “I love you, and you turning out to be Captain America doesn’t change anything. Now follow me because I need to show you something.”

She took his hand and led him over to their television. Turning it on, she selected the channel they used to video chat.

“I’ve been a little bit worried about telling you who my dad is,” she said, navigating through the contact list, “because he is an egocentric asshole. He’s been wanting to meet you for a while, and last time we discussed it, he said he wanted to be there when I told you who he is because he wants to see the look on your face,” she continued. “Now I thought it was just cos he likes being the centre of attention so I wasn’t going to bother but now I understand why-”

“Okay…”

She selected a number he’d never seen before, but before tapping the call button, she stopped and looked at him. “God, I can’t believe we could have been honest with each other this whole time. We’ve probably signed all the same NDA’s and everything!”

Steve smiled. “Huh. I hadn’t even realised that yet.”

“A lot of people have just landed on my shit list,” Darcy grumbled. “Okay, fair warning - there’s gonna be some yelling here, and you’re probably gonna be very confused, but here goes nothing.”

She tapped the button and they waited.

“You don’t wanna give me a clue?” Steve asked.

“Honestly, I think we all deserve this,” she replied.

Several seconds later Tony Stark appeared on the screen and before he could say more than “Hey-” Darcy launched into a miniature tirade.

“You asshole! You absolute sneaky, double dealing, cheating asshole! How long have you known?”

“What?” The look on Tony’s face was priceless. “Known what?”

Steve’s brain went into overdrive connecting the dots as soon as Tony appeared on the screen.

“Your father is Tony Stark?” His words were lost as Darcy continued.

“That my boyfriend is Captain America!” she almost yelled at the screen, flinging an arm behind her to point at Steve.

“Fiance,” Steve corrected, still reeling from the revelation.

“Oh, that.” A glimmer of guilt passed over Tony’s face but melted into a self satisfied grin. “Hey, Cap,” he said, “she finally said yes, huh?” before returning his attention to Darcy. “Since just after Christmas. And that is no way to talk to your father, young lady.”

“Like you don’t deserve it,” Darcy retorted.

“Tony Stark is your father,” Steve repeated, completely nonplussed. “I’m going to be Iron Man’s son in law.”

“Ahuh!” Tony crowed triumphantly. “That’s the face I wanted to see.”

“No!” Darcy snapped. “You are going to be Captain America’s father in law. There’s a difference!”

“Spoilsport,” Tony pouted.

“I don’t believe this,” Steve muttered before raising his voice. “You never mentioned you had a daughter, Tony.”

“No one knows I have a daughter, Steve. It’s a secret.”

“It’s a safety slash security slash privacy thing,” Darcy said. “Mom wanted me to have a normal upbringing and as I’ve grown older I’ve really come to appreciate that.”

“That’s fair,” Steve agreed.

“Anyway,” Darcy said, “I guess we don’t need any further introductions, seeing as you two know each other already. I’ll talk to you again soon, Dad. Say hi to Pepper for me.”

“Congratulations, sweetheart,” Tony said. “I’ll expect you here for a celebratory dinner soon.”

“Of course! Love you, bye.”

Darcy ended the call and turned to Steve. “Soooo… now we know each other's secrets.”

Steve nodded. “We do.”

“You’re Captain America.”

“And your father is Tony Stark.”

“You’re okay with it?” she asked, an uncertain lilt in her voice.

“Yeah. Yeah, I am. Are you?”

She nodded. “I’m not gonna change my mind, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Whatever secrets we have, we will deal with them - that’s what we said, right?”

Darcy nodded, and smiled at him.

“So… I believe you said something about cheesecake?”

Tony watched the screen go black and grinned. The grin grew into a chuckle and the chuckle turned into a laugh. The look on Steve’s face had been just as priceless as he could have hoped for. Wiping a tear from his eye he stood up and called through the open door to Pepper.

So, she isn’t happy. She’d been ‘volunteered’ by her aunt and dragged here, tied to the altar of the old gods. She’s struggling against the bonds when the candles around her start glowing brighter,  enough that she has to close her eyes against the light. A moment later, it’s gone, and when she opens her eyes, a man is standing before her. He’s tall, has dark hair, and a muscled body that she gets a good look at because he’s completely naked.

“Oh no,” Darcy says, tugging at the ropes even harder, but when she looks down she sees the knots are just getting tighter. “Shit, shit, shit…” When she looks back up, she’s not sure what she’s expecting, but not his expression of exasperation.

“You people,” he says with a sigh, stepping forward. He reaches for the ropes, easily untying the knots before stepping back. She sits up cautiously, a bit confused. Everything she’s been taught since childhood has said that the old gods can be full of rage and greed, their needs and wants superior to all others, but he’s...not pouncing on her, like all the stories make it seem like he’d do.

“Um…” She shifts, moving until she’s sitting on the edge of the altar instead of lying on it, her feet dangling over the ground.

“If your people still sent priests and priestesses, you would know that I have said I don’t need sacrifices, especially unwilling ones,” he says. The ball of fear inside her releases, leaving her confused and intrigued at the god before her.

“My village keeps having disasters,” she says, finding it surprisingly hard to make eye contact. Not just because his eyes are dark and otherworldly, but because now that she’s untied and unafraid, it’s impossible not to notice how attractive he is. His lips twist in a smirk, like he knows what she’s thinking. “They think the gods are angry, so they brought me here.”

“It’s an act of nature, not the gods,” he says dismissively. “Rituals like the one they tried to force you into are about prosperity, not sacrifice. They’re fools. Even worse because you were unwilling.”

“Okay, well, now that I’m not tied up and I see you and you aren’t like thirty feet tall with ten arms...what if I were willing?” she asks.

He stares at her for a moment before grinning. He moves slowly toward her, dark eyes roaming over her face. He only stops when he’s right before her, close enough that the fabric of her dress is brushing against his legs.

“I would bless you with prosperity,” he says, dragging light fingers up the bare skin of her arm. She shivers at the touch, making his grin grow. His hand moves up, resting on the side of her throat when he pauses, face going serious. “Only you. I won’t help a village that forsakes their gods then begs them for help using another’s life.”

“Well then,” Darcy says, sitting up straighter and smiling with more confidence than she truly has. “Bless me.”

He looks triumphant, then he’s moving closer, stepping between her spread legs, her dress shifting up with the movement. He wraps a hand in her hair, pulling her toward him, then he’s kissing her. She’s only kissed one person before, a local boy named Ian when they were young and curious. It was nothing like this, none of the overwhelming and possessive way she’s touched. She’s tentative at first, not sure what she’s doing, but he guides her, easily showing her what to do to make him moan into her mouth.

He pulls back, eyes glittering, and drops to his knees between her legs. He runs his hands up her thighs, pushing her dress even higher. She flushes, embarrassed that she has nothing on underneath, but she’d been preparing for bed when she’d been dragged here and hadn’t been in anything other than her simple dress. He doesn’t seem to care, spreading her legs wider and leaning closer.

“What are you - oh god!” Darcy gasps, eyes closing in bliss as he licks up her slit, tongue pressing against that little nub that makes pleasure shoot through her. He rumbles against her as he laughs, then he’s moving his tongue against her, pressing against that spot that makes her cry out, tension building inside her. She’s touched herself before, knows what she enjoys,, but his <i>mouth…</i>

It makes sense. He’s a god, he has an infinite existence of experience. It’s not a surprise that he knows how to play her body. Then he slides two fingers into her and she completely loses her train of thought. He crooks his fingers inside her and suddenly the pleasure is crashing through her,  making her body shake and gasps tumble from her lips.

She’s still trembling when he stands, looking pleased, and her breath catches when she sees how hard and thick he is between his thighs. He eases the dress over her head, leaving her as bare as he is, and though she wants this, she’s suddenly nervous. She’s never had anything inside her larger than her fingers, and he’s significantly bigger than that.

“What is it?” he asks, large hands cupping her jaw.

Darcy swallows hard. “Will it hurt?” she asks.

The confusion clears from his expression. He leans in, kissing her forehead, and tells her, “I won’t bring you pain, little one.”

Then he’s pushing her back until she’s lying on the altar. He crawls up her body, powerful muscles moving under his skin. Her family has always worshipped the old gods, and lying nude on an altar feels sacrilegious, but he <i>is</i> a god. He came to her, accepted her offer. He’s a god, and he wants her.

“And I’ve heard your every prayer,” he whispers in her ear, then he’s entering her, sliding slowly into her wet opening. She gasps, back arching, clutching at his arms. He was right, it doesn’t hurt, but the sensation is a lot. Still, being filled by him is better than she could have imagined. He’s brushing her hair from her face, murmuring soft words of encouragement until she’s able to relax completely, her grip on him loosening. “There we are,” he murmurs.

He rocks forward, shifting inside her, making her whimper. He finds a rhythm, thrusting into her welcoming body, grinding against the hard nub, zings of pleasure flowing through her. He runs a powerful hand over her body, rolling his thumb over her nipple, dragging blunt nails down her torso, pressing gently between her thighs. Everywhere he touches her leaves a trail of warmth.

His face is beautiful, especially this close, those dark eyes focused solely on her, expression raw, breath ragged. His thrusts are getting shorter and quicker, his fingers pressing against her clit. Tension is growing deep in her, her body beginning to tremble under his. She’s close to release and she thinks he is too. She rolls her hips into his thrusts, taking him in deeper. He growls, an otherworldly sound that makes her breath catch, then she’s flying apart, body rushing with pleasure.

He doesn’t stop, dragging her release out, then he’s stilling, his length jerking inside her, making a low, pleased groan. He presses his forehead against hers, thumb brushing over her cheek as they breathe heavily. She should feel cold and uncomfortable on the stone altar in the unheated temple, but he’s radiating warmth and safety, and she’s surprised at how comfortable she is in his arms.

“You will be blessed with prosperity,” he murmurs, and the skin where her’s cradling her face starts to tingle. “You will be blessed with happiness. You will be blessed with love.”

Darcy swallows hard, the warmth of his blessing coursing through her. “That’s more than we agreed,” she says softly. She’s pleased and doesn’t want to offend him, but she doesn’t want to seem greedy.

“You offered more. You deserve more,” he says, finger still stroking over her cheek. “You worship the gods. You believe.”

She’s not sure what to say to that, so she just nods. He looks satisfied and moves back until he’s standing, no longer touching her.

“I would suggest you find a new home,” he says. “I’m not inclined to save your village, especially after what they did to you.”

“I have no intention of staying,” she says.

“Good. When you go, I will guide your steps and offer protection,” he says. She knows she looks surprised but he just smirks. “A gift for the faithful.”

So far down it wasn’t even on the list, because it just wasn’t a possibility. Not considering on his last birthday, Barnes was a popsicle in a Wakandan cryogenic cell, and the birthday before that, an international fugitive from justice.

Yet somehow, here he was, smiling and laughing at the inane joke made by a silver fox in a sharp suit who was, mystifyingly, apparently Barnes’ ex. Sam just couldn’t imagine the two together. Obviously, it made sense that the older guy would hit on Barnes - anyone would hit on Barnes, he was so pretty Sam had even seen supposedly straight guys stop talking and stare - but even though the older dude was fairly good-looking, he was also a pretentious dead bore. Bucky was way too smart to be taken in with this sort of crap.

Finally escaping, Sam cornered Bucky by the bar. A longneck beer bottle dangled from Bucky’s fingers, but he wasn’t drinking from it.

“So tell me.” Sam swiped the beer and took a sip, since there was a queue for the barman’s attention, “what did you see in Mr. Corporate Suit?”

A dull flush coloured Bucky’s cheeks, and he refused to meet Sam’s eyes. “I was in a bad headspace.”

Sam stopped drinking mid-sip, lowered the bottle. “Tell me it’s not because he looks kind of like Alexander Pierce, in the right light.”

“Okay, I won’t tell you that.”

“Power down, sass robot. I know you’ve been gettin’ therapy for that shit, and I know you’ve been doing real well, too. So what went wrong?’

Bucky sighed. “He caught me on a bad day. Before I knew what I was doing, he was askin’ me to move in.”

“Oh shit, Buck.”

“I panicked. Said I thought we was just fooling around, that I actually had a boyfriend.”

“Oh… so I’m not just supposed to be your boyfriend, I’m the boyfriend you were fooling around on with that guy? Wow. No wonder he looked so smug. I wanted to punch him.”

“Sorry, Sam.” Bucky gave him a slightly pathetic look. “I shoulda told you.”

“Yeah, you should.”

“If it’s any consolation, if you really were my boyfriend, no way would I cheat on you with that guy. Or anyone else.”

“Thanks,” Sam said dryly, taking another sip of beer.

“Oh hell, he’s coming this way.” Bucky gave Sam puppy eyes. “Help.”

“Oh, now you’re asking for help from me, after running around behind my back with Mr. Corporate Suit?’

“Sam!”

Bucky was too cute when he was desperate. Laughing, Sam set down the now-empty beer bottle. “Alright, I’ll get you out of the mess of your own making. Come here, darling,” he made the last words loud enough for the approaching older man to hear, before pulling Bucky into his arms, bending him back over his arm, and kissing him within an inch of his life.

He hadn’t quite reckoned on the way Bucky melted against him, the way the rock-hard, solidly muscled tank of former-Russian assassin went completely soft and yielding against him, plush lips parting to accept Sam’s kiss. Or the way Bucky tasted.

A faint whir hummed in Sam’s ear as a vibranium arm hooked around his neck. A cough sounded in his other ear, and then another, as Corporate Suit tried vainly to distract them from each other. Sam was in no mood to be distracted. He only came up for air when his lung capacity failed to match that of the super-soldier currently kissing him back to within an inch of his life.

“Sam,” Bucky whispered, blue eyes dazed.

“What,” Sam said, “the fuck was that?”

Corporate Suit had retreated in the face of their PDA, so Sam wasn’t worried about him overhearing.

Bucky smiled. “I’m kinda hoping that was the first shot in a new skirmish.” Vibranium fingers whirred and flexed, pulling Sam’s face close to his again. “Ready for round two?”

This time, Sam vowed, he wouldn’t be taken by surprise by how good it felt to kiss Bucky.

“Did you say something?” Steve looked over his shoulder at Bucky.

“Nup. Nothing at all.” Bucky averted his gaze from America’s ass, which didn’t help, because it landed next on Hawkeye’s ass, which was damn near perfect as well, and then skipped along the row to Natasha’s ass. “Help.”

Rhodey was next in line, and thank God for bulky armor and Tony’s preference for function over anatomically correct representation when it came to armored suits. Bucky fixed his gaze on the blocky, squarish ass-portion of the War Machine suit and kept it there. He couldn’t afford for his fixation on his teammates’ distressingly perfect buttcheeks to become a distraction right now. Not when they were about to go out in a celebratory parade in front of what seemed like half the kids of New York, and especially not considering how tight (and therefore revealing) his own pants were. He really didn’t need to be arrested for public indecency, not when he was working so damn hard to rehabilitate the Winter Soldier’s public image.

Somehow, he got through the entire parade, several interviews and too many photographs to count where he had to put his arm around one of the indecently attractive people he worked with, without popping a boner. He even mock-wrestled with Thor and somehow stayed decent when the Asgardian pinned him to the wooden stage, powerful body half-covering Bucky’s own. It took a lot of thinking about cryogenic chambers, but he pulled it off.

When he finally got back to his apartment and closed the door securely behind him - after firmly refusing Tony’s invite to a party with the remark that he’d absolutely had enough peopling for the day - the first thing Bucky did was unfasten his belt and fly and take the pressure off. He let out a deep groan of relief as his erection finally popped free.

“Hey Buck.”

Bucky almost jumped out of his skin as Steve knocked on the door behind him.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m good!” Bucky yelled hastily.

“You don’t have to come to Stark’s party, I was just gonna get some food if you wanted to come up to mine.”

He has no idea I’m standing here with my dick in my hand, and I really don’t want him to know. Any minute now he’s gonna offer to bring food to me…

“Or I can come hang with you and we can order takeout.”

Knew it. “Listen, punk, you know I love ya, but I have really, seriously had enough of other people for the day. I need some alone time.” To jerk off.

“I hear ya. Okay, I’ll leave you to it. Call me if you want company, though.”

Bucky listened to the sound of Steve’s retreating footsteps, waited until he heard the elevator doors slide shut behind his friend before moving again himself. First things first; check he’d double-locked the door, bolted it and put the chain in. Not that any of those things would keep any of his teammates out if they decided they really wanted in, but at least their presence would hopefully make any of them think twice.

Walking stiffly because his erection made moving uncomfortable, Bucky made his way to his bedroom. Taking his boots off was downright painful, but eventually he managed it, finished getting his pants all the way off and wrestled out of his jacket and shirt, laying back stark naked at last with another sigh of relief, hand curling around his stiff, aching cock.

Would his teammates mind, he wondered as his hand began to slide back and forth, if they knew he fantasised about them? He was in no way emotionally ready for any kind of relationship beyond a cautious friendship, but his sexual appetites were still alive and well, his enhanced body eager for gratification at the slightest stimulus, and his teammates provided plenty of that. Quite apart from their physical attractiveness, there was just so much about all of them that called to him. Tony’s pure brilliance, Carol’s fierce determination, Maria’s sheer competence. Even their imperfections turned him on. The gap between Sam’s front teeth. The way Scott mixed up his words when he was star-struck by Steve, which still happened all the time. The way Strange reverted to arrogant formality when around anyone he didn’t know. Natasha’s scars. Clint’s stubborn refusal to accept Bucky was a better shot with a sniper rifle.

He didn’t think any of them would mind. Hell, Tony at least would probably encourage it, saying with one of those signature snarky smirks that he knew he was irresistible, and making some crack about how he deliberately designed all their outfits to be spank fodder. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d said exactly that, usually with the obvious intention of making Steve blush.

Bucky’s hand stroked faster as his thoughts inevitably came back to Steve again. It had been a very, very long time since the two of them shared a tiny room on the top floor of that walk-up in Brooklyn near the docks; so many years had passed since they’d come to sexual awakening in each others’ arms. Of course, the punk was a lot smaller then, but nothing Bucky loved about him had changed.

Maybe one day, Bucky thought. One day, he’d mention those cold winter nights when they’d snuggled together for more than just warmth, see what Steve would say.

This would have to be enough, his own hand wringing the orgasm from his body until he was gasping and drained, sticky ropes of white seed spraying across his stomach and chest, teeth gritted to keep the screams of release back to strangled gasps and grunts, lest someone with super-hearing think he was actually in distress.

Jane followed her line of sight across Stark’s game-room to Steve and Bucky, an eyebrow twitching at how Darcy chose to downplay the Avengers’ now-smoothed-over Civil War. “Yes, everyone knows they’re soulmates now, but I’m pretty sure everyone with eyes also knows that they’re very…”

“Yummy?” Darcy suggested brightly as Jane trailed off.

Jane side-eyed first Darcy’s face, and then the drink in her hand. “How much have you had to drink, Darce?”

Darcy turned to Jane, lifting up her glass as she objected, “Just this!”

“Are you sure you’re not drunk?” a voice behind her asked, with amusement laced through an unfairly gorgeous New-Yorker’s tone.

Darcy froze, registering Jane’s mouth dropping open – many half-sober girls’ nights fueling her knowledge of what those words meant – before the astrophysicist silently slid off her stool and disappeared into the crowd of partygoers. Darcy squeaked quietly at the abandonment before turning around to face none other than Captain America. His soulmate., Bucky loomed over her, too, from just over Steve’s shoulder.

“You know,” sass came out of Darcy’s mouth almost before she thought about it. “That’s one hell of a first thing to say to a girl, especially coming from you.”

He blinked rapidly at her, clearly as startled as she was, and Darcy heard Steve’s otherwise-silent partner in crime suck in a surprised breath. “Sorry to disappoint,” he said, an edge of teasing finding its way into his voice as he continued, “But… we could hear you talking about us from where we were standing. Super-soldier hearing, you know. Buck suggested we come over and introduce ourselves, said we might—”

He grunted as Bucky elbowed him in the back, speaking over Steve to say, “—Find our third. That’s what I thought we might do, since it sounded like you liked what you saw with both of us.”

Darcy wasn’t buying it, but she didn’t say so, only let the upward tick of an eyebrow show her disbelief as she pointed out, “Everyone likes what they see with the both of you. Apparently, you heard me say so.” This was so not cool. This had to be one of the most embarrassing ways to meet your soulmates, she thought in the moment. Except Captain America and the Winter Soldier were her soulmates, and that was pretty unbeatably awesome. She drank the rest of her alcohol in one long drag before she set the glass down and said aloud, “I just happen to be the lucky girl who you overheard.”

“And I, for one, am very glad we did,” Bucky said, sitting down beside her on the stool Jane had vacated.

Steve slowly took Darcy’s hand as he sat down in the seat on her other side, giving her plenty of time to pull away if she’d wanted to. As if. “From what I’ve heard of you, Miss Lewis, Bucky and I got pretty lucky in the soulmate department, too. We look forward to getting to know you.”

“Mm hm,” Bucky cracked open an eye, smiled at his beloved. “Just feeling blissfully fucked out.”

Thor looked smug as he settled into bed beside Bucky, leaned over to kiss his shoulder, uncaring that it happened to be the metal one.Bucky hummed with pleasure as the sensors in his shoulder transmitted the pressure; his brain interpreted the gesture as the loving one it was even if the nerves receiving it were only synthetic ones.

“It is good to have you safe here with me in New Asgard,” Thor said quietly, and Bucky opened his eyes fully. He still struggled to comprehend, even now, that he and half the population of the universe had been just gone for five years, but seeing those they’d left behind and how much they’d changed had hammered home the truth. Thor’s devastation had been more visible than most, not that it mattered to Bucky how his soulmate looked, except that the changes had been an unspoken message of just how badly Thor’s soul had been wounded when Bucky was torn away from him.

“It’s good to be here with you,” he told Thor, shifting so he could put his arm around his soulmate. “So good.” The Asgardians had been overjoyed to welcome Bucky into their community; he could envision a place for himself here among them. Wanting to tease away the shadows he saw lurking in Thor’s eyes, he reached up and lightly tugged on his soulmate’s beard. “Your Majesty.”

“Will you stop?” Thor smiled, though. “I told you. You don’t need to call me that.”

“Well, I never expected to be soulmate to a king. Still gettin’ used to it.”

“Get used to being called Your Highness then, future Prince Consort.”

Bucky snickered at the mere thought; a boy from Brooklyn becoming a prince was beyond ridiculous. “Still want to go through with this?” Though the Asgardians didn’t have taboos against non-heterosexual marriage, he’d heard a few quiet mutterings about the line of succession to the throne.

“Can you doubt it?” Thor kissed him, and Bucky lost himself in the kiss for a few moments.

“I don’t doubt how you feel about me, or how I feel about you,” he said when he got his breath back, “but I do worry about what happens if something happens to you.”

“The Valkyrie takes the throne,” Thor said, accurately divining his thoughts. “She would be a far better ruler than I anyway, and I have already named her my heir.”

“And after her? Because she says she’s not going to have children.”

“Hm.” Thor looked thoughtful. “I see what you’re getting at. I suppose humans live such short lives, succession plans have always had much more immediacy for you.”

“Odin had a couple millennia to get that shit sorted and it still almost went sideways,” Bucky pointed out dryly.

“You make a good point. Well.” Thor looked a little tentative. “I had been considering… when Asgard was evacuated, there were a good many children left without parents. New Asgard has welcomed all children to our hearts, but… there are still some who have not found a true family to be absorbed into. What if we were to adopt one, or more?”

“Raise kids?” Bucky leaned up on one elbow, thinking it over. “You and me?”

“Perhaps we wouldn’t be a traditional parental unit, but for the orphans of Asgard, a family is a family.”

“Y’all don’t have to tell me about choosing your own family, Thor.” Bucky smiled wryly. “If you think any of them would choose us… hell yeah, I’m up for that!”

Thor’s delight was plain to see as he leaned in and hugged Bucky close. “We’ll make our own family,” he said, almost fierce in his determination, and Bucky knew he was thinking of those he’d lost too recently. “And they will know from the beginning that neither we, nor anyone else, will ever care that they were adopted.”

The word Loki hung between them, almost tangible even though it was never spoken.

“And maybe, one of them will be king or queen of Asgard,” Bucky said gently.

The scientist finally looked up from her sciente, her brow wrinkled in consternation. “You don’t have to shout.”

“Considering I’ve been trying to get your attention without shouting for the last five minutes?” Darcy countered. “Um, yes. I think I do.”

“Oh. Fair,” Jane said, blinking and pushing the notes she’d been scouring slightly aside and sitting up straight to give her friend her full attention, a gesture Darcy appreciate. “What do you need?”

“Nothing needed, just a reminder. It’s five now, and I’m out for the day. You are allowed to science for another hour and a half, but at six thirty, FRIDAY’s putting the lab in blackout and since I’m not here and Thor’s offworld at the moment…”

“The Dickinson Protocol is in effect.” Jane grimaced. “Yeah, I don’t ever want that to happen again.”

“Hey, it wasn’t all bad. You had to have a pretty good view of America’s ass.”

“While slung over Captain’s America’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes, then dropped unceremoniously in the common kitchen in front of half the tower’s residents?”

“Yeah.”

“It is a nice ass,” Jane admitted. “But all the nice asses in the world aren’t worth it.”

“Speaking of nice asses,” Darcy segued. “I’d better be off, ‘cause I’ve got a date with another owner of a very fine ass, and I’d better get out of here fast if I’m going to have time to curl my hair.”

“Oh, right, it’s yours and Bucky’s anniversary, isn’t it?”

“One year,” Darcy confirmed. “Who’d da thunk it, that a superhero super soldier would want to stick around for ordinary me for that long?”

“You aren’t ordinary, I hope said super soldier knows how lucky he is to have you, and we will be discussing this lack of self esteem if I have to program a new FRIDAY protocol, but I’m letting you off the hook for now because I know how long it takes you to get home.”

“The commute isn’t that bad,” Darcy said.

“It would be shorter if you lived in the tower,” Jane said, then cut Darcy off when she opened her mouth to repeat old arguments, waving them away. “We can argue another time. Go. You’re eating into my ‘sciencing’ time.”

Darcy grinned, then stuck her tongue out at Jane, then headed out of the lab.

“Have good sex!” Jane called cheekily as she left.

“Always do!” Darcy laughed back, then made her way to the elevator.

A few floors down, the elevator stopped, and who should step in but her boyfriend, with Sam, Steve, and Natasha.

“Hey, Darce,” Bucky said, leaning down to drop a quick kiss on her lips.

“Hey, babe,” she smiled up at him. “Where are you guys off to? No call to assemble, I hope.”

“Nah,” Bucky said. “Just doing a quick bit of patrolling in one of the boroughs, keeping trouble at bay.”

“Well. Don’t get blood on your outfit. We have dinner reservations at seven,” Darcy teased.

“We’ll keep him out of trouble,” Sam grinned at her. “And hose him off for you if needed.”

“I packed a spare outfit for him, just in case,” Steve said, his eyes twinkling.

“Great, so my shirt will be two sizes too small.”

“Darcy won’t complain,” Nat grinned. “Give the other restaurants some eye candy.”

“Why am I friends with these guys?” Bucky bemoaned as the elevator doors opened. Darcy just laughed and waved them off, then made her way to the subway.

The line was thankfully running on time, giving her plenty of time to pop on a showercap and have a nice steamy shower, then took her time curling her hair and applying her makeup. By the time she was pulling on the great red dress she knew her boyfriend was going to love taking off later, she was feeling pretty good about herself and the prospects for the evening. She topped the outfit off with a great pair of heels, then hurried out the door to hail a cab to the restaurant.

She’d never regretted not taking Stark up on his offers to send for one of his fleet of drivers he made available to lab staff. She’d lived in the city long enough that she was a master at public transportation, and finding a taxi was usually fairly quick and easy, more so than waiting for a driver to make it to her. Still, as rough hands grabbed her hard enough to leave bruises, shoving her toward the vehicle that definitely was not the cab she planned to wave down, she definitely was having regrets.

She fought back, kicking and screaming as she reached for her trusty taser. There were three of them, though, and only one of her.  One of the thugs grabbed her wrist, twisting. The sharp pain made her lose her grip on her taser. She managed to hit one of them in the nose, and he swore as it started to bleed, shoving her roughly away from him. She heard her dress tear as the other two manhandled her into the back of the van, and another one of the bruisers hit her in the face hard enough she saw stars. He grabbed her purse, throwing it onto the pavement before slamming the doors. The engine engaged, and then they were driving her to goodness knows where.

Darcy blinked back tears and took a deep breath. Took stock. Her wrist hurt like a bitch, a burn of an ache resonating through it, but it likely wasn’t broken. She’d lost one of her shoes in the melee, and though the other did have a stiletto heel, she wasn’t sure if it would be that great of a weapon. They’d thrown out her purse, so she didn’t have her taser or her pepper spray. They hadn’t counted on her secret weapon, though: her boobs.

Not a weapon in the traditional sense, of course. But through the course of her life since puberty, she’d found herself underestimated because of her breasts, as though her cup size meant she couldn’t be a savvy, resourceful young woman. And it wasn’t that she was expecting that her boobs, as great as they were, presented such a sight that baring them would stopped several trained henchman in their tracks.

No, her boobs were her secret weapon because, since her dressiest purse was pretty small, it wouldn’t fit her taser, pepper spray, lipstick, wallet and phone, and her cup size meant there was room to tuck her phone down one side of her bra. So there, in the back of the van, she dug it out, unlocked it with shaking fingers, and called in reinforcements.

It was all over fairly quickly after that. Bucky had thankfully still been with Nat, Steve, and Sam when she called. Thankfully because she could tell from the moment she told him what had happened, he’d seen red. Nat had been able to take over the call while Bucky imitated Bruce hulking out, Sam had pulled in Tony to trace her whereabouts, and then Steve had called an assembling or whatnot, and a rescue was mounted.

Whatever the thugs had been preparing for when they’d kidnapped her, they certainly weren’t ready for a full force of Avengers dropping on them while they were still driving the van out of the city. Within ten minutes of placing the call, the van was slamming to a stop, and mere seconds later, a familiar metal arm was ripping the door of the van right off its hinges.

Darcy scrambled toward Bucky even as he came to her, launching herself into his arms and laughing tearfully. He scooped her up and out of the van, and she clung to him as he moved them away from the fray, even as she could see if was very obviously dying down. A handful of thugs were definitely no match for a team of very angry superheroes.

“Are you okay, Darce?” Bucky asked, his eyes scanning her face.

“Yeah,” she said, then amended as he looked doubtful. “I’m a bit battered and bruised, and I could definitely use some ice for my wrist, but that’s really the worst of it. Except my dress. I’m pretty sure I ripped my dress, and I am pretty bummed about that actually.”

“It’s a really good dress,” Bucky said, “but I care more about the person in it, so…”

“The person in it is okay,” Darcy said. “Shaken, yes. Bruised, definitely. But I think I handled the situation pretty well, and I’m proud of how I kept my head, so there’s that. And hey! You didn’t even get any blood on your outfit.”

“I’m afraid I can’t say the same about you,” Bucky said grimly. “I thought you said you were just bruised.”

“Oh!” Darcy said, looking down to see that, sure enough, there was blood drying on the skirt of her dress. “That’s not mine. I hit one of the dudes in the nose, and I must have got him good.”

“Good,” Bucky replied darkly.

Darcy sighed, and snuggled into Bucky. The fight was definitely over, the others sort of milling as they waited on whatever transport was going to come for the bad guys. And maybe medical to check her out. Probably some SHIELD bureaucracy was going to happen now. The thought made Darcy groan.

“What’s wrong?” Bucky asked alarmed. “Does something new hurt?”

“No,” she said. “It’s just… we’re going to have to spend the rest of our anniversary debriefing to SHIELD, aren’t we?”

Bucky shook his head. “They can wait. Once medical clears you, I’m taking you home.”

“Oh, good. We can order in. They’ve probably given our reservation away, and I’m honestly not feeling up for out, at the moment.”

“I figured,” Bucky said. “We can reschedule. If they give us trouble, we can sic Pepper on them.”

Darcy smiled, then leaned back into him. “I hope medical clears me quickly. I just want to go home.”

“Speaking of home,” Bucky said, his voice taking on a weird quality she’d call nervous if her boyfriend did nervous. Which he didn’t. Did he? “I know this is going to sound like it’s coming out of what happened tonight, but I was planning on suggesting it tonight, and you should know that I’m not going to pressure you, though I suspect given tonight’s events the team might insist on some changes regardless and-“

“Spit it out, babe,” Darcy cut off his rambling, though not unkindly.

“I think we should move in together. It doesn’t have to be at the tower, if you don’t want, but… I love you, and I want to keep building a life together.”

Darcy smiled slowly. “I’d… I’d like that. Very much.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” she said. “I love you, too, and I absolutely want us to keep making a life together. So tonight, let’s go to your home, and tomorrow? Tomorrow, we can start figuring out what our home will be.”

“Perfect. I mean, that sounds perfect, but also, our home will be perfect. Because you’re there.”

“Why Buck, I didn’t know you were quite the sap,” a voice broke in.

“Shut it, Sam,” Bucky said without rancour. “You guys about done there?”

“SHIELD’s going to be a few,” Sam said, “but Stark’s offered to give you and your gal a lift if you don’t want to wait to get out of here.”

“What do you think, Darce? You up for it?”

Apparently falling through a portal for six months and reappearing on the other side of the Atlantic was the type of event that generated a lot of paperwork. She’d been listed among the missing, presumed dead, in London, and there were more technicalities to becoming officially alive again than one would think.

Of course, her first order of business was to phone her parents, but she had to do that from Medical (and who knew Tony Stark would have a whole floor dedicated to that?) as Jane dragged her there once the initial hugs were done.

After the medical checkup, there were more tests, both physical and mental. She was the only one of the missing to have returned, and while some of them were bound to have died in the chaos, the news of Darcy’s survival and return was sure to hit headlines around the world. That her return had been aided by Jane’s research and Heimdall’s help would in no way prevent the families of the missing from demanding the return of their own loved ones.

All in all, it was quite a while before she had a moment to herself, and by then, the doubts began to set in. She’d fished for details on Jane’s new neighbours during the checkup, and Helen had been only too happy to chat.

“This is all public record,” the doctor assured her. “Or at least, well known around here. See, Sergeant Barnes survived the mission in 1944 that supposedly killed him, but was retrieved by HYDRA and brainwashed into an assassin. He was sent to kill Steve during the fall of SHIELD a few months ago but Steve managed to break through the conditioning and bring him here to recover.” At Darcy’s expression, she had patted her on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, you’re not likely to run into him. He tends to keep to himself. There are big gaps in his memories so he doesn’t like to be around people very much.”

It was all rather a lot to take in.

“What if he doesn’t remember me?” she wondered aloud when Helen stepped out of the room to check something. “What if he’s not the Bucky that I knew?”

The empty room had no answers for her.

~~~

Her mom demanded she return to the family home in Pennsylvania and Darcy acquiesced, in part to escape the dizzying juxtaposition of a New York that was not the one she knew and had grown to love. That she still had no idea how to approach Bucky was not an insignificant part of her reasoning, either. It was a good two weeks of smothering love and catching up with family, but then her return hit the news. After three days of reporters camping on her parents’ lawn, she signed the new contract Jane had emailed her and flew back to New York, where she wasn’t the most newsworthy person on her floor, let alone in the building.

She spent the whole flight back dithering (and really, there was no better word for it) about what to do when the choice was taken out of her hands.

~~~

For his part, Bucky was not fine either.

Sure, he was no longer an international criminal and Stark had been surprisingly understanding about the whole ‘might’ve killed his parents’ thing, but he’d still done — if not those particular murders, certainly numerous others. His hands were stained with blood he couldn’t remember. Of course, those gaps in his memory were generally preferable to the nightmares that filled them.

He wasn’t sure if the return of his memories was a blessing or a curse.

Even the times before the war were bittersweet to remember. His baby sister was aged and frail, their childhood home demolished, and the life he had thought he would lead had vanished just as thoroughly as the girl he had hoped to marry.

It was quite safe to say that his therapist had her hands full.

The wind was bitingly cold when he stepped out of the Tower to wander Manhattan. Six months out of cryo and his memories continued to plague him at the most inconvenient times, but they’d mostly stopped bleeding into his everyday life. As long as he kept his days predictable and the daily news far from hand, he found himself managing. With scarf wrapped tight and shoulders hunched against the chill, the journos by the entrance didn’t give him a second glance.

When he’d had enough of being outside, he decided to return to the Tower via the underground concourse from Grand Central Station. There was a woman ahead of him, struggling with her luggage near the top of the stairs. Something about her caught his eye, just as she lost her balance. Her foot slipped, the suitcase dropped, and the woman went flying.

Past merging with the present, Bucky ignored the suitcase and found himself moving to soften her fall.

She landed with a soft oof as his arms came around her, steadied her. She turned, perhaps to extricate herself, perhaps to thank him, but then her blue eyes met his and they both froze.

“Darcy?”

“Um. Hi?” She sounded exactly the same, looked much as she had in his patchy memories — if he ignored the modern clothes.

“Wh- what are you doing here?” he asked, disbelieving.

For a heart-stopping second, he wondered if this woman was a stranger with his girl’s face and voice, but then he took a second look. Dark curls fell from an oversized beanie and as she pushed them out of her face, a locket swung free from her jacket.

He caught it in his free hand, memory sparking. “You still have the necklace?” Somehow it came out a question, a plea.

For an answer, she used her free hand to pull him closer and press her lips to hers. His arms tightened around her instinctively and for a moment, everything was as it should be.

“You’re here,” he said when they separated, a little inanely, only to realise she had said the same thing.

“But how —?” he tried again, before stumbling to a halt on words that were too big, too wonderful to voice.

Darcy smiled, and it was the best thing he’d ever seen. “How about you help me get moved in and I’ll tell you?” she offered.

He nodded and went to pick up her fallen suitcase as she collected the handbag she must’ve dropped. “There’s this place Steve found,” he said, feeling a memory click into place as they made their way up the stairs. “Says it’s a nice place to go dancing.”

“I should warn you, I’m still terrible at dancing.”

“So am I,” Bucky grinned.

“Is he going to be as dumb as the last one? Because trying to tell Jane that the lab can only be open at certain hours is a short trip to me getting on the phone and chewing your ear out again.”

“Trust me, Miss Lewis,” Fury said, bone-dry, “Agent Rumlow knows his business. Part of his job description is keeping you out of my ear.”

Darcy grinned at Fury’s tone. “Fair enough. I’ll give him a shot. Is he at least better looking than the last dude? I could do with some eye candy around here.”

Fury was, for once, shocked into silence. Darcy laughed and ended the skype call before swiveling on her lab chair. Jane had already returned to muttering over some equations, and Darcy, hearing a vehicle outside, got up and headed to the door to look. A black SUV had just pulled up in the parking lot, pretty much screaming government issued vehicle.

“Looks like a dead bore already,” Darcy muttered, and then had to lean against the door to hold herself up when the man driving the car got out. Medium height, there was absolutely nothing else average about him, from the spectacularly carved cheekbones to the incredible physique doing very nice things inside a tight black T-shirt. “Well, hubba hubba!”

Muscled, Dark and Lickable swung a hefty-looking kit bag onto his shoulder and headed for the door, and Darcy suddenly realized she was standing right there staring at him. She didn’t have time to hurry away and pretend to be doing something else, so she decided to just brazen it out; she wasn’t going to pretend she hadn’t seen him coming.

“Afternoon, ma’am,” he said as the door swung closed behind him and he saw her standing there. “Agent Brock Rumlow.” Instead of offering a hand to shake, he held out a leather ID folder; Darcy had been reaching for the handshake and quickly adjusted into taking the folder from his hand instead, flipping it open to check the picture inside.

“Thank you,” she handed him back. “Darcy Lewis. I’m Dr. Foster’s assistant…”

“Lab manager, is the job description in your file.” Rumlow arched a black brow.

“Call it whatever you want, up to and including babysitter. I’m the one who makes sure Jane has whatever she needs to get her research done, including food and sleep. You’re here to keep her safe.”

“And you.” He plucked his ID folder from her fingers, stuffed it back in a pocket. “Operationally, you’re almost as good a target as Dr. Foster, because you’re of value to her.”

“Wow, that’s cold,” Darcy said when she got her breath back.

Rumlow smiled, but there was no warmth behind it. “I’m not here for warm and fuzzies, Ms. Lewis. I’m here to keep Dr. Foster and her work safe. Part of my job is thinking like the bad guys. What would I do if I wanted to disrupt the situation? What’s the easiest way in? Who’s the softest target?” He shrugged. “No offence, but Dr. Foster rarely leaves the lab. You’re the one who goes wandering off to coffee shops whenever the urge strikes.”

He was right, and worse, he’d obviously been surveilling her for at least a couple days before turning up to start work. Darcy wanted to smack the smirk off his face. Instead, she bit on the inside of her cheek, lifted her chin, and said “Then tell me what I need to do. I’m not about to jeopardize everything Jane’s worked for by being careless.”

His eyes warmed, just slightly, and he held out his hand to shake. “Good. I’m glad you’re willing to listen.”

She didn’t like what he was saying at all, but he was right, damn him, so she took his hand with a nod. And gasped, because the powerful zing of electricity shooting up her arm was way, way too powerful to be just static.

“Holy shit,” she gasped.

Rumlow’s hand tightened around hers. He blew out his cheeks, shook his head, and finally laughed ruefully. “Well. This changes everything, huh?”

My soulmate. This infuriatingly cocky, overly handsome man is my soulmate? Darcy found a smile in response, just as stunned as he seemed to be. “Yes,” she agreed, though it wasn’t until more than a year later she’d discover just how much that simple touch of hands had changed, when Rumlow finally admitted who he used to work for. “Yes… this changes everything.”

* * *

Two Years Later

Remy LeBeau whistled under his breath as he walked quietly up to the lab’s front doors. At three in the morning, the building was dark and silent, and for once, he was absolutely certain neither Dr. Foster nor any of her small team of brilliant boffins were working late, because every last one of them was in Sweden, and would be watching the doctor accept her Nobel Prize for Physics later that day.

And while they were gone, Remy would slip into the lab, copy onto a specially made hard drive all the data from their network-isolated server, and be gone again with nobody the wiser and research worth a cool hundred million dollars in his pocket.

The electronic door yielded easily to the swipe card he’d lifted from one of the science boffins’ apartments an hour earlier. He’d even put the card back exactly where he’d found it when he was done. This whole heist depended on nobody knowing he’d ever been there.

And it all came spectacularly undone when he padded silently into the server room and found a couple having extremely enthusiastic sex on a desk.

The woman, an attractive brunette, saw him first over the man’s shoulder. Blue eyes widened and she shrieked. “Brock!”

Remy had to give the man credit; he was both fast and completely unconcerned about his nudity. He spun away from the desk - and the woman on it, who was distractingly beautiful enough to slow Remy down at least a little while he got an eyeful - and whipped a keyboard at Remy’s head. Remy snapped an arm up to block and very nearly missed the foot coming for his groin at the same moment.

For a few minutes, Remy had his hands full, respect quickly dawning for the guy who was doing his level best against a superhuman, naked and unarmed to boot. It was never going to be an equal fight, though, and Remy was absolutely there to cheat, flicking a playing card into his opponent’s face in a blaze of energy and sweeping his legs out from under him while the guy was distracted.

The mission was shot to shit; the best thing he could do now was knock the guy unconscious, do the same for his lover, and steal the data anyway. Hopefully it would still have value even though the burglary itself was compromised.

The two pins slamming into his chest interrupted his plan to go down and choke the guy out, and he gasped and shuddered as the Taser emptied 50,000 volts into him. The woman was staring at him, eyes narrowed, Taser in one hand and a gun in the other, obviously both grabbed from pockets of the clothes strewn around on the floor.

Shouldn’t have underestimated her, Remy thought, and then he thought again. A Taser didn’t have the same effect on him as on normal folks due to his ability to absorb energy, but a bullet… that would hurt. A lot. At this range, she could hardly miss.

As the shock cut off, Remy shut his eyes and let himself drop limply to the floor.

“Brock, you all right?” the woman asked.

“Yeah.” Brock pulled himself up off the floor, cursing under his breath. “Who the fuck is that guy? The only person who ever got the drop on me like that was Cap himself. Something ain’t right about him, Darcy.”

“Yeah, well, this Taser took down Thor, and it got him too.” Darcy sounded smug, and Remy had to bite on his lip to hide his smile. He liked her, dammit. But he was still gonna snatch that gun out of her hand the second he got the chance. She was coming closer, bending over him… he prepared without letting muscles tense, keeping his breathing slow, focussing on the precise moves he’d need to make…

Soft fingers grazed his neck, and a bolt of energy far greater than the Taser’s 50,000 volts sent a convulsion through him. Eyes snapping wide open, he sat bolt upright, forgetting all about the gun, and stared into his soulmate’s blue eyes.

His soulmate, who he’d just found banging another man…

… not a great start.

“What the hell!” Brock snatched the gun from Darcy’s hand, aimed it at Remy’s head with rock-steady hands.

“That was a soulmate shock,” Darcy whispered, utterly stunned. “Brock. That was a soulmate shock.”

“Sorry,” Remy offered, aware it was inadequate. “You two look like you’re, uh, yeah. Sorry.”

“You don’t get it.” Darcy smiled. “We’re soulmates, Brock and I. You must be the third we didn’t know we were missing.”

“I’m just trying to wrap my mind around the idea of one soulmate,” Remy confessed after a moment of stunned silence.

Brock chuckled a little roughly. “Join the club. I’m still gettin’ used to it, two years in.” He offered a hand, to help Remy up.

“May I join you?” a rumbling deep voice asked from the doorway, surprising Sage as their eyes flew back open.

They turned at the waist, peering over the back of the couch to see Thor – certified Avenger and god of thunder – standing in the doorway. Sage shrugged, a little uncomfortable and a whole lot in awe. The whole “frequently being around superheroes” thing was taking a little bit of getting used to, especially when they hadn’t met most of them yet, save for Pepper  and Maria Hill – who both completely counted as superheroes in their own ways – and all of the geniuses that milled around the labs. “It is the common room, right? For everyone to use as they wish?”

Thor nodded, stepping inside and over to the minibar. In the dim lighting, he poured himself a glass of something from the very top shelf of Stark’s… inventory. “I didn’t want to disturb you if you were preoccupied,” he explained, calm, and graver than Sage would’ve expected from him, as he joined them on the couch.

“I am preoccupied,” Sage murmured, glancing down at their murky tea as they added, “But not by anything that I don’t mind a distraction from.”

Thor studied Sage for a long, still moment, sipping from his glass before he declared, “The battle today disturbed you.” It wasn’t a question.

Sage nodded. “I knew that such things were a possible… side-effect of living and working here, but I guess I wasn’t prepared to encounter it already.”

“I noticed you for a moment today, in the battle. You were guiding some of your coworkers to safety, were you not?”

Sage shrugged away the thread of careful admiration in his tone. “I had to help where I could. Well. Someone had to help, so I just… did.”

“You acted very courageously, especially if it was truly your first time encountering a battle.”

Sage drew in a deep breath, murmuring, “Doesn’t change the fact that I can’t sleep now.”

Thor hummed. “A perfectly normal, unfortunate ‘side-effect’ of battle. In Asgard, we drown such inability to rest in ales, and, failing that, in taking a bedfellow for the night – oftentimes to celebrate our victories, but sometimes, much less spoken of, it’s so that there’s someone at our back, which helps to soothe the… vigilance.”

A smirk momentarily tilted a side of Sage’s mouth as they held up their mug and admitted, “I would rather have a cup of tea than sex.”

Thor held up his own glass. “And I would rather have ale than tea, but I understand your sentiment.” He considered them for another long moment before he said, “However. If having someone at your back would help you to sleep, I offer my own accompaniment, and my absolute word in regard to perfectly gentlemanly behavior. After your actions today, you deserve to be able to rest.”

Sage froze, taking a moment to process that offer – though they remained completely unsure how to respond to it. In the end, they ignored the offer itself, saying only, “You deserve rest, too; you certainly did more than I did.”

Thor took that in stride, and said, somewhat more gravely than Sage had been prepared for, “Eventually, to a warrior, skirmishes like the one today lose their… sharpness.”

“You’re saying days like today, battles like that, become just another day at the office?”

He nodded. “Perhaps unfortunately so, but, yes, they do.”

“Then do you think I’ll ever get used to them?”

“Perhaps. So long as you do not become jaded to them, I do not see that as necessarily a bad thing.”

He narrowed his eyes at them over his ale, thinking again, until Sage asked, “What?”

“If you believe it would help you in situations such as the one we encountered today, I could teach you some things, about how to defend yourself and maybe even a little of how to handle weaponry.”

Sage hesitated. “I’m not a weapons sort of person, and I’ve taken a couple of self-defense courses, but a brush-up wouldn’t hurt, I guess.”

“Do you have your mobile device with you?” Sage arched an eyebrow but handed him their phone. He maneuvered through the technology with surprising ease, and when he returned their phone to them, Sage saw he’d entered his own cellphone information into their contacts. “I let very, very few people know I even have a mobile device,” he said with an almost conspiratorial smile. “I don’t want to contend with the distractions and demands that they put on my comrades. But, please, contact me when you’re next available, and we can work on some training. It shouldn’t be too difficult to arrange since we both live in the Tower.”

“How do you know I live here?” Sage asked carefully.

Thor shrugged. “I’m sorry if it sounded disturbing. I only like to… monitor who belongs here and who doesn’t. A part of my own… hypervigilance, I suppose. Miss Potts humors me and sends me a list of new employees in much the same way she does Mr. Hogan and the rest of the security team. That way neither I nor any of the others feel the need to interrogate and terrify new employees.”

“How considerate of her for everyone involved,” Sage remarked dryly.

“I am trying to… work on it,” Thor admitted. “My hypervigilance, I mean.”

Sage studied him this time before they asked curiously, “So… how long have you known I was here, then?”

“Since you were hired – the point at which I learn about every new employee here.”

“But you… remembered me? Why?”

Thor sipped at his ale before he answered. “I am not always very good at introducing myself to people who catch my eye, but… I was taught from a young age to look out for others – I see now it was my mother’s way of trying to prepare me to take the throne of Asgard – and I try to keep a particular watch on the people who take up residence in the Tower as you have.”

“Meaning?”

“Stark does not house all of his employees onsite. Those he does house here… he gives them a place to live because they were homeless when his company hired them.”

Sage nodded. “That’s true.”

“And for those people who have been through so much,” Thor continued. “I like to ensure that life is becoming easier for them now.”

“You know,” Sage allowed themselves to give Thor the same kind of conspiratorial smile he’d aimed at them a minute ago. “You took something that could’ve been creepy and made it kind of sweet.”

“That is good… I believe.”

“It’s not bad,” Sage allowed, taking a drink of tea before they asked curiously, “If I may… why are you up at one in the morning?”

Thor shrugged. “Because I cannot sleep, and there is no one with whom I share my bed these days, so I thought I might take some comfort in the ale of my people.”

“And I interrupted your plans?”

“No, you only added to them.”

“Well,” Sage suggested, “I’m not a ‘jump into bed at first meeting’ sort of person, but if you’d like to stay up and talk until one of us falls asleep, I wouldn’t be averse to trying that.”

She tells herself it’s necessary, that she’s doing it for the greater good, but Natasha’s horrors won’t leave her mind, especially when she dreams.

Later, when she’s in the thick of it, fighting back Ultron’s army from retreating families, she briefly ends up back-to-back with Natasha. She flings a robot away that was trying to attack Natasha from behind, earning a nod and a quick acknowledgement in what Wanda thinks is Russian before she’s off again, taking down bots as she goes.

Wanda feels a sting from her shoulder, but ignores it. If it isn’t terrible pain, she can deal with it later. Her focus is on the task at hand, on keeping the innocent people alive.

Later that night, after she’s visited Pietro in his hospital room, she’s peeling off her dirty clothes, body aching and ready for a shower. She leans over to turn on the water and nearly falls over when she notices her reflection in the mirror. She turns, craning her neck to see the hourglass symbol near her shoulderblade.

Wanda...has no idea what to think. Soulmarks show up when your soulmate first speaks to you, signalling you’ve met the person fate’s chosen for you. She thinks of all the people she’s talked to today, all the people screaming for the loved ones, all the ones who’ve begged for help, who’ve asked where to go. Then she goes cold remembering Natasha’s quick words, the stinging on her shoulder after, right where that little hourglass appeared.

Oh god. Her soulmate is Natasha. She’s tortured her soulmate. She has to brace herself against the counter at the nausea rolling through her. She swallows hard, looking down at her trembling hands. She tries not to think about all the pain she felt from Natasha’s mind, all the shame and guilt and fear. She showers quickly, trying to focus only on the task at hand, but she can’t hide from herself.

She dreams of Natasha again that night, of her dancing alone in the middle of a dark room, in a black tutu and pointe shoes. Wanda knows nothing about ballet, but she knows Natasha’s good, spinning and jumping elegantly in a way Wanda knows she’d never be able to replicate.

Then Natasha is stopping, turning to look right at her. She speaks but Wanda can’t tell what she’s saying. It doesn’t matter, because Natasha’s pulling her by the hand, tugging her into a dance she doesn’t know. She spins, trying to learn the steps, to keep up with Natasha’s quick movements. Right when she thinks she understands, when she can keep herself balanced, Natasha begins to fade, until she’s intangible, until Wanda can see her but can’t touch her. She reaches out, her hand traveling right through Natasha’s transparent fingers.

Wanda wakes with a start, wincing at the aches in her body that make themselves known at the jerky movement. She sighs, knows she won’t be getting back to sleep, and gets up, pulling on a sweatshirt and walking out, planning to maybe walk around the compound until she’s tired. She’s not expecting to run into Natasha reclining on a couch in a sitting room area, a book open in her lap.

Wanda freezes in the doorway, not sure what to do. She’s not foolish enough to think Natasha doesn’t know she’s there, but she isn’t being chased out, and she’s sure that if she weren’t welcome, it would be obvious. She takes a tentative step into the room, then another when she isn’t asked to leave.

She hadn’t been seeking Natasha out, but now that she’s near her, she’s hesitant to leave. Natasha glances up and smiles slightly when she sees Wanda making a cup of tea, before looking back down at her book. Wanda folds herself into a chair across from the couch, looking down at the green mug in her hands, nearly snorting when she realizes it has a cartoonized Hulk face on it.

“There’s one of each of us,” Natasha says, her eyes on the cup in Wanda’s hands. “Except for Clint. He’s still a bit peeved over that.”

Wanda laughs, looking down at the mug. Yeah, she can imagine his indignation. When she looks back up, Natasha’s studying her, head tilted slightly to the side. She hasn’t considered what she’s going to say to her, what her first words to her soulmate will be, but she was hoping for something sweet or clever. What she ends up saying is…

“I’m sorry for what I did.” Wanda immediately wants to kick herself. She’d planned on apologizing, of course, but not first thing. She’d wanted to start things on a more positive note, not...this.

Natasha sits up straighter, her book falling to the couch cushion next to her. Wanda’s frozen under her gaze, clutching at the mug in her hands. She swallows hard and sets the mug down with trembling hands. Natasha slowly reaches around, hand resting on her own shoulderblade, the same spot where Wanda’s soulmark had appeared.

“That...is not what I was planning on saying,” Wanda says.

“What were you planning on saying?” Natasha asks.

Wanda shrugs. “Something clever, ideally,” she says. “But I hadn’t expected to run into you yet. I hadn’t really thought about it.”

Natasha leans forward, elbows on her knees. “In Sokovia,” she says slowly. “That’s the first time I spoke to you.”

Wanda nods. “I don’t know what you said, and there was so much going on that I didn’t even realize until later,” she says. She bites her lip, unsure if she should go on, and says, “I dreamed of you.”

The corner of Natasha’s lips quirks up slightly. “What’d you dream?” she asks.

“I was dancing with the ghost of you,” Wanda says. “I couldn’t really touch you and couldn’t keep you from disappearing.”

Natasha looks at her contemplatively, then stands, extending a hand. “Then dance with the real me.”

Dancing with Natasha is much better than the dream of her. Her hands are warm and strong, her movements fluid and sure, guiding Wanda easily on where to step and how to move. Wanda doesn’t always feel graceful, but it’s hard to feel clumsy with Natasha leading her.