#run'verse

Paul Lewis stood on the artistically rustic deck of the pricy mountain resort. It was a lovely day, bright and vivid, the sun warm and the air refreshingly crisp. The view was pretty great, too.

The resort's sprawl of lodges, cabins, and sundry other outbuildings, were perched on the side of a hill that rolled up to a craggy, snow-capped peak. The view from the deck took in a broad valley with a white river rushing through it. Breaking up the dark green pine forests that blanketed the valley and crawled up the peaks, patches of birch and aspen trees were turning gold and vivid orange with the season. Across the river, beyond a scenic meadow, the valley gave way to another hilly rise up to another rugged and picturesque peak.

It was all very bucolic and pretty. Paul just wished it was peaceful. The main lodge behind him was absolutely crammed full of Perlmans and Marellis, gathered from the far-flung corners of the U.S. to attend the wedding of Marcia Marelli and Derek Young. The family had decided this wedding was the perfect excuse for a long over-due reunion. Those poor Youngs had no idea what they were stepping into.

Paul had no complaints about the Perlmans or Marellis; they were good people - with a couple of exceptions - and he had always felt warmly welcomed and included, but, by God, there were a lot of them. The two families had blended and expanded exponentially when Paul's sister-in-law, Jo, married Hugh Marelli. By the time Paul joined the family, they were well established as one giant, boisterous blob. And half of them hadn't even arrived yet! The place was going to be a madhouse for the next four days.

There was a sudden burst of noise - chatter, laughter, voices talking over voices - and then it dulled to a low murmur. He turned his head and watched his wife step on to the deck, pulling the lodge door shut behind her.

"Phew," she said, blowing a piece of hair out of her face. "And it hasn't even really begun. Just wait until the open bar opens. Hugh's going to have to take out a second mortgage to pay for it." Rebecca scanned her husband's face and narrowed her eyes consideringly. "How are you doing?"

"Oh, I'm fine," he said with a wave of his hand. "I just needed a minute of quiet to let my ears stop ringing."

"No kidding," she replied and leaned against the railing. "It's really gorgeous here. Darcy's due any minute or I'd say we should take a little walk."

"She called?"

"Yeah, she's reluctantly winding her way as we speak."

Paul smiled. Even coming from such a big family, Darcy did not really like the fuss. She was a bit of a Lewis like that. They weren't a small family, but they were tiny compared to the Perlman/Manelli mob. And, of course, you had to take into account the Stark family of two. Actually, that was just kind of sad; money didn't buy everything. Just as well she had the Perlman/Manelli/Lewis squads.

"And James?" Paul thew up finger quotes around the man's name.

James Buchanan "Bucky Freaking" Barnes was his daughter's partner and maybe boyfriend and she was bringing him to her cousin's wedding like he was just some guy. Like how she brought Steve Rogers home for Thanksgiving. That kid's life was unreal sometimes. But, they weren't supposed to call him Bucky because his status as a possibly wanted assassin was a little vague. Paul got the sense that nobody quite knew what to do with him. Anyway, best to not bring up that he was a hundred year-old super sniper.

So weird.

"Him, too." Rebecca laughed a little. "I can't wait to meet him. There's a weird sort of symmetry to Darcy knowing him, isn't there? Maybe symmetry isn't the right word," she mused, "but I find I'm not shocked they ended up partners."

"You expected the Greatest Generation brain-washed assassin?" Paul asked, a little skeptical.

"Bucky Barnes being alive was a shock," she clarified. "Bucky Barnes finding his way to Darcy? Feels like it was inevitable. Who, aside from Steve and Darcy, would understand him?"

Paul shrugged. "I guess."

"Besides," she continued, "according to Tony, Darcy has a nasty habit of collecting assassins."

"Not funny," he grumbled. Though it ended horribly, but he kind of understood Tony making an army of robots to protect his daughter (and the world, of course, or whatever). It was a conflicting sort of feeling, but it was the one point on which he and Tony always agreed - protect family. The destruction of Sokovia was terrible, but yeah, Paul got it.

Rebecca laughed at him again and rubbed a hand down his back. "Darcy doesn't need two dads grumpy about James. Let's give him a chance."

"Of course," he agreed easily enough, and despite some doubts, he did intend to give the man a chance. Darcy liked him; he should find out why. It wasn't easy to watch his little girl grow up, but she was a remarkable woman and he was proud of her. He trusted her to know what was best for her. Mostly. Still, Bucky Freaking Barnes?

The wall of noise rolled out of the lodge again, followed by the loud pronouncement, "Lafayette! We are here!"

"Darcy's arrived," Rebecca murmured with a smile an a shake of her head. She turned and held her arms out. "Are we taking on no-man's-land today?"

Darcy stepped into her mother's arms and gave her a good long hug. "Got to dig in first. And, you know, check in."

Letting go of Rebecca, Darcy turned to Paul and gave him his own long hug.

"Hey, baby girl," he murmured into her hair. "Missed you."

"Hi dad, I've missed you, too," she said back. Then gave him a smacking kiss on his cheek and stepped back.

Waving a hand, indicating the man hovering near her shoulder, Darcy introduced her partner, whatever that meant in her world. "Mom, dad, meet Bucky Barnes. Though, we're calling him James this weekend," she said. "Bucky, my mom Rebecca and my dad Paul."

Paul wasn't quite sure what he expected. Darcy had described Bucky as a little rough around the edges, and the word 'hobo' had been thrown around once or twice. But, the man before him looked like a nice, clean-cut fellow. His jaw was shaved, just a hint of a five o'clock shadow, his hair was trimmed short and tidy, and he was wearing a nice blue, cable-knit sweater and new jeans. He was tall, broad across the shoulders, but not Steve Rogers big. If he didn't know the guy was a hundred-something years-old, Paul would guess he was in his early 30s. Overall, except for the black glove on his left hand, he looked … normal.

"He decided he should look like a lawyer for the wedding," Darcy commented as Rebecca stepped forward to shake the man's hand.

"James, it's so nice to meet you," Rebecca greeted. "Ignore Darcy, I think you look very nice."

Darcy harrumphed. "I didn't say he didn't look nice."

"Mrs. Lewis, Darcy talks about you a lot, it's really nice to meet you, too," James replied, then gave Darcy a quick and narrow side-eyed glance. "She's always had a lot of opinions about my clothes. I mostly tune her out."

"Harsh," Darcy said, but she laughed anyway.

Bucky stepped up to Paul next, hand out. "Mr. Lewis, nice to meet you, sir."

"James. It's nice to have you here. It's always great to meet Darcy's friends." The other man's grasp was firm, but almost gentle, too, like he was being very aware of his own strength. Steve had been like that, careful in how he shook hands. And arm wrestled. God willing, James wouldn't be introduced to Lewis family dispute resolution this trip. He supposed it would come down to how well he and Sam got along.

Speaking of, Darcy was frowning, and asked, "Where's Sammy? Hiding from Aunt Edna's riveting account of her battle with lumbago?"

"He and Bryce went to explore the local town," Rebecca explained. "We weren't sure when you'd get in."

"Sorry," Darcy said with a shrug. "There was a problem with the concrete guys and then we got the wrong brick, and it was a whole thing for like three days. We got a late start."

Darcy was building something in New York. She said it was a bar, but Stark Industries was also involved, so Paul was sure it was a whole lot more than a local watering hole. Sometimes he wanted to know things, sometimes he didn't, but most times he wasn't sure if he did or didn't want to know.

"Well, you're here now and everybody's going to be so happy to see you," Rebecca told her.

"What's the plan for today?" Darcy asked.

"Nothing big," Paul put in. "The festivities don't start until tomorrow. But, we should go out for a family dinner tonight. Just us. And James, of course."

Bucky nodded from his spot at Darcy's side. He looked like a protective rottweiler. Interesting. "Sounds nice. Darce?"

"Yep," she agreed. "Let's go check in, and then you can hide while I brave the invasion."

The man snorted softly and shook his head. "I"m not hiding. You said you needed backup, I'm backup."

"You said I needed backup," she corrected him.

"Well, whatever," Bucky said, unbothered by the details. "I'm looking forward to meeting your grandmother."

Rebecca and Darcy gave him identical skeptical frowns. Paul sucked in his cheeks and looked up at the sky. He tried to stay neutral; nothing good came from getting in the middle of any Francine-related tussle. Or really a Francine-related anything. His mother-in-law was a walking landmine.

"That is such a lie," Darcy said finally. Then she gave Bucky a firm pat on the shoulder. "Okay, let's do this. Over the top, doughboy."

"I think you outrank me, so I'll let you lead the charge," Bucky told her with a smirk.

"I'm not impressed with your cowardice, Sergeant."

"I'd watch her," Rebecca put in, "she tried to court-martial a friend when she was eleven."

"Fourth Street was invading, we needed to shore up our defenses, and Becca was malingering. And whining. So much whining." She sighed dramatically. "Besides, she was always more of a frenemy."

"You tried to court-martial somebody when you were eleven?" Bucky asked, but he wasn't really asking. It was like he expected that, of course, Darcy tried to court martial somebody when she was in grade school. Clearly, he'd come to understand her well. Paul found that both comforting and discomfiting.

"Actually, I did court-martial her," Darcy said with an off-handed shrug. "And then we never spoke again."

"It was a kangaroo court," Rebecca laughed.

"I'll have you know," Darcy said with a superior sort of sniff, "that I stole Rhodey's UCMJ and I did it by the book! The literal book."

"Of course you did, sweetie."

Bucky was looking very amused by the whole thing. "You stole a copy of the Uniform Code of Military Justice?"

"Don't make it sound shady. I gave it back." She clapped her hands and started towards the door. "Now, it's time to storm the trenches."

"Why are we doing World War I today?" Paul asked, following along with Rebecca as they all headed back inside.

It was Bucky who answered with a wry twist to his lips. "Darce got the notion in her head that a family wedding was like trench warfare. It's been Verdun since Seattle."

Darcy opened the door and they were all smacked by the din. "It's not too late to call in artillery."

"Nah," Bucky said. "Bad terrain for artillery."

Darcy pouted at him then made a show of sniffing the air. "I smell brimstone."

"Oh stop," Rebecca chided as she shepherded her daughter inside. "You saw Ericka."

"What's an Ericka?" Darcy asked. "Oh, did you mean Satan's Handmaiden?"

"This is your mom's cousin?" Bucky asked, frowning like he was checking his memory for the list of potential hostiles.

"Yes," Rebecca confirmed. "And, Darcy, just stay away from her. No fights this weekend."

"I won't start anything," Darcy told her piously.

Paul laughed a little. She was so terrible at playing innocent. "But, you'll finish everything, won't you? How about we avoid getting to that point?"

"You're all determined to spoil my fun this weekend," Darcy said with a sigh as she stepped up to the check in counter.