Work Text:
Tony was the first to bring it up.
Not that he knew it. Coulson needed paperwork signed, and Darcy was his Girl Friday, so she jumped on the case. She was six weeks along, and morning sickness set in three days before.
It was unfortunate that Tony’s curry lunch turned out to be one of the three things she’d definitively confirmed triggered her newly sensitive gag reflex.
She passed him the paperwork, he passed it back, and the fluttering pages pushed all those potent curry scent molecules right up her nose. She managed to grab his trashcan just in time, emptying her stomach of her minimal breakfast.
“Woah, Lewis,” Tony said from his quickly achieved defensive perch on the other side of the room. “I haven’t seen that clean a stomach ejection in years. If you’re sick though you have to wear a mask.”
Darcy wiped a hand across her mouth and gave Tony a dark look over the rim of the trashcan. “I’m not sick. Sign the damn papers.”
“Not sick?” He scratched a pen over the papers. “What? Are you up the duff?”
Darcy shrugged and snatched the papers off his desk, hugging the trashcan to her chest. “I’ll have this cleaned and brought back.”
“I expect answers, Lewis!” Tony called after her retreating back.
—
Clint was next.
“That’s the tenth time we’ve had to pause so you can pee,” he whined as she returned from her fourth trip to the bathroom.
“It builds anticipation,” Darcy said and threw herself back onto the couch at his side. “You need to learn that not all things come through instant gratification.”
“Rude,” he commented as he hit play on the remote.
She tried to get back into Lieutenant Paws’ storyline, but she could feel Clint’s eyes on the side of her face. She leaned forward and hit pause.
“Do you need something, Clinton?” She raised an eyebrow daring him to comment.
He swallowed and rolled his shoulders, his eyes darting over her face. “No.”
“Good.” She leaned forward and hit play.
“It’s just that,” he said, and she sighed, leaning forward to hit pause, “Tony said you threw up two weeks ago, and you turned down margarita Monday last week…” he trailed off.
“And?” She channeled every bit of Nat into her stare, and his brow scrunched up.
“And I’m glad that you seem to be feeling better?” He tried.
“Thank you,” she said primly. “Do you want to watch the rest of the episode?”
“Yes please.”
She leaned forward and hit play on the remote before leaning heavily against his side until he dropped an arm over her shoulders.
—
Nat was the obvious follow-up to Clint.
She didn’t drop unsubtle hints or ask questions. Instead, she handed Darcy a bottle of prenatal vitamins and a box of ginger tea, then suggested a boutique maternity shop on the Upper East Side where Tony Stark had inexplicably set up a charge account two days before.
Darcy just smiled and thanked her cheerfully before returning to her desk outside Coulson’s office.
—
Coulson, as was his custom, brought it up via paperwork.
Darcy had gone off the day before. Hormone rage was real, and Darcy felt like keeping it on a leash was a waste of the excuse to express herself.
Coulson didn’t scold her for yelling at the three agents who filed their paperwork improperly. He did leave an ML-72-83A leave form on her desk with a post-it note on it that said, “You’re glowing.”
Darcy returned it completed the next day, requesting the standard 12 weeks of leave in 7 months’ time.
—
Dr. Banner never brought it up outside of the exam room.
—
Darcy was okay with the idea of being a single parent.
It wasn’t what she’d planned for her life, but when she’d seen those two pink lines, she’d taken a deep breath and accepted her new reality. She knew she could do it. Her mother had.
She didn’t even consider contacting the father. Not that she’d know how if she was so inclined. She was a sex-positive, modern woman, thank you very much. Three months ago, she’d let that modern positivity lead her right into the single-stall bathroom of a heavy metal bar in Brooklyn with the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen.
The best decision she’d ever made? No.
The best sex she’d ever had? Absolutely.
She could do this on her own, though. She’d moved from unpaid intern to administrator with code word clearance two years ago. She had a decent walk-up apartment, a quick ride on the train from work. She had a spare bedroom (walk-in closet) that would fit a crib. How much room could a baby realistically need for the first year anyway?
She was headed into her second trimester, and she 100% had this under control.
What she did not have under control was this Sharkmen situation. She’d left the office for lunch. Honestly, that was her first mistake. Nothing good ever happened when she tried to go outside in Manhattan for fun.
One minute she was trying to determine if an oversized dolman sweater was more likely to hide or emphasize the bump that was sure to appear any day now. The next, she was crouched behind a parking meter, wondering if she wanted to risk finding out if she was faster than a half-man, half-shark in a fight.
She’d just decided she wasn’t willing to risk it when the familiar sound of Iron Man’s repulsors announced the arrival of the Avengers. “For fuck’s sake.” She wasn’t just near the Sharkmen. She was at ground zero for the Sharkmen fight. And if there was one thing Darcy had learned from two years of filing paperwork at Coulson’s desk, it was that ground zero in an Avenger’s fight was not a great place for someone as squishable as her.
She needed to take cover. She needed to find a weapon. She needed to —
“Come with me.” He had less of an accent than he’d had three months before. He’d cut his hair. He was wearing different clothes. He was still undoubtedly the same guy she’d fucked in a reasonably clean club bathroom. “Now,” he added, and Darcy raised an eyebrow.
“Are you —“
Their rom-com-worthy reunion was violently interrupted by a Sharkman launching himself at tall, dark, and handsome teeth first. Darcy watched in horror as several rows of razor-sharp teeth latched onto his left arm. Her horror grew when instead of screaming in pain like a normal man, he let out a growl and punched the Sharkman in the nose hard enough to send it flying into a parked car across the street.
“Now!” He held out a hand. The hand connected to the arm that had just been gnawed on like a shark chew toy.
“Yes.” She nodded, “Yes. I should come with you.” She took his hand and did not overlook that he was wearing leather gloves. In late July. She’d let it go in the bathroom three months ago. Thought it was kind of hot, honestly. Now, combined with the not losing his arm to the Sharkman thing, it seemed pretty suspicious.
He dragged her behind him for two blocks. He also took out three more Sharkmen. He finally pulled them into a closed bodega just outside the worst of the fight. She grabbed a bottle of water from a cooler and leaned against the counter to watch her savior pace circles by the door. He seemed torn between peering out the windows to watch the fight and wanting to stare at her.
She won.
“You’re not injured?”
“Nope.” She popped the P and stood up straighter. “Thanks for the assist.”
“You should be more careful leaving the tower.” His voice was just as deliciously low as it’d been in the bar. Also, clearly, he’d been stalking her a bit. Darcy decided to let bygones be bygones in the face of him saving her life.
“I needed to go shopping,” she said with a shrug, one hand subconsciously rubbing at her small baby bump.
His eyes locked on her stomach, and Darcy shifted on her feet. She was impressed with his Sharkman repelling abilities, but that didn’t mean she needed him. She had it under control on her own.
His brow furrowed, and he looked like he was doing complex equations. “You are pregnant?”
She narrowed her eyes. “I’m not sure how that’s any of your business.”
“Mine?” He still had one eye on the door.
“Biologically, but not conceptually,” she said.
He stared at her, his mouth a thin line. Darcy defiantly crossed her arms over her chest. The movement pushed her new pregnancy breasts up to their best advantage, and she enjoyed the way his attention was diverted.
He shook himself like a dog and refocused on her face. “I will get you back to the tower.”
“Thank you.”
She got back two hours after the Avengers due to not having a flight suit, and dark-and-broody’s insistence that they take a very roundabout route “for safety.” Coulson took one look at her and sent her home early.
She didn’t argue. She wanted a nap.
—
Steve brought it up the first time he saw her after returning from his months away.
“Darcy?” He said her name like a question. As though the addition of a baby bump and two extra cup sizes was enough to make her unrecognizable.
“Steve?” She replied as though his new beard meant she couldn’t still see his patriotic profile with her eyes closed.
“Congratu—“
“It’s so nice to meet you.” Steve’s very handsome companion clearly understood twenty-first-century social norms. “I’m Sam Wilson.”
“I’ll bet you are,” Darcy purred, and she let Sam Wilson kiss her hand.
“I just wanted to say—“
“Steve has told me a lot about you,” Sam interrupted again. “He says you’re the woman to know when it comes to getting all the best equipment.”
“That’s me,” Darcy agreed, shifting on her feet. She’d run into them on her regularly scheduled second mid-morning bathroom break. “Are you both coming back to the city long term?”
“I don’t understand why we can’t talk about—“
“We’ll be in the city until new intel pulls us away.” Sam Wilson gave her a grin, “Hopefully we’ll get to see more of you?”
“Anytime fly boy.” Darcy took her chance to exit on a great line like a fucking boss, “Bye Steve.”
“Bye Darcy,” poor Captain America said. Then quieter to Sam, “I don’t understand why you kept interrupting me. I just wanted to congratulate her on the baby.”
She was a dozen steps away but could still hear clearly when Sam replied, “Man, you don’t talk to a woman about her being pregnant unless it’s yours or you’re actively watching her give birth.”
She had a smile on her face for the rest of the day.
—
Her fuck-boy baby daddy turned up again when she was 20 weeks along, having a hot flash and trying to drag a flat-packed IKEA crib down a Brooklyn sidewalk by herself. One minute she was silently listing reasons not to curse the parasite in her stomach for making her fat, clumsy, hot, and hungry all at once, and the next, she’d run into the very solid chest of her unamused one-night stand.
“You need help, doll?” Darcy blinked at him. The nickname was new. If she hadn’t seen him demolish a Sharkman three times her size with her own eyes, she’d have his balls in a vice for using it.
“I’m fine,” she snapped, attempting to continue past him, dragging the heavy as fuck box behind her.
“Then let me put that cardboard box out of its misery.” He picked up the box with one hand, bracing it against his chest, and stared her down.
She stared right back.
He raised an eyebrow.
She caved.
“Fine,” she grumbled. “It’s this way.”
She had no qualms about letting him into her building. By the time they got there, she’d dragged that damn crib twenty blocks from IKEA after she couldn’t find a cab and then walked another fifteen while he carried it at her side. She wasn’t going to try to push it up two flights of stairs to prove a point.
She did pause at letting him into her apartment. He was here, though. And she was so tired. And she really had to pee.
“Just leave it in the living room,” she rushed out as she pushed past him toward her bathroom.
She hoped to emerge to find him gone. Instead, she walked into her living room to him examining the photos on her bookshelf, the crib box leaning against the door to the spare bedroom.
“I’ll build it for you if you want.” He didn’t turn around when he spoke, and she examined his back. She still hadn’t entirely figured out the situation with the bite-proof arm.
If he built the crib, she wouldn’t have to. That was very tempting. On the flip side, if he built the crib, it meant he’d be here, in her space, for longer, and she wasn’t sure yet how she felt about that.
“How long do you think it will take?”
He did turn around at that, his gaze assessing, and when their eyes met, she found approval there.
“An hour or so. You can watch the whole time.” His smile was more reminiscent of the flirty man she met at a bar five months ago than the stone-faced killer who’d saved her on the street weeks later.
“An hour.” She agreed, and he nodded.
He never took off his flannel shirt or his gloves. He was methodical. Carefully laying out every part, checking the instructions at every step, using the allen wrench like a pro. One hour later, he stepped back to stand next to her in the doorway, a finished MYLLRA crib filling the entire far wall of the otherwise empty room.
“You need more things for the kid?” he asked, his eyes trained on her bump.
“I’ve got it under control,” she said. He made a noncommittal noise. “Your hour is up bud,” she warned.
He nodded and let her follow him to the front door. “If you change your mind —“
“I won’t.”
He nodded again and left. She locked all three deadbolts.
But later that night, she found herself sitting in the “nursery” staring at the crib with unshed tears in her eyes.
—
At first, she thought the packages were from Tony. The rocketship mobile and the glowing slug night light seemed like things he would imagine a baby might need. Then the onesies arrived in several shades of gray and cream, and green. By the time the cloth diapers showed up, she knew there was no way Tony Stark was involved.
It was the tiny little band t-shirt that gave her secret admirer away. Small and black, it bore the anarchy symbol and terrible font favored by the band whose heavy double-bass drumbeat had served as the backdrop for baby’s conception. There was only one person in the entire world other than Darcy who knew that.
He was a dead man.
She’d made it very clear she didn’t need help. And who cared if the soft gray blanket looked nice over the end of the crib and the sheets with the little red stars matched the mobile. She had this under control. She was absolutely fine on her own. He had no right. Absolutely no right.
“You okay there Darcy?”
She shrieked in surprise, throwing the stapler she held on instinct.
Steve caught it in one hand, centimeters from his face, and lowered it to hang at his side.
“You scared me half to death!” She pressed a hand to her heaving chest, and Steve leapt into motion. Like he’d been waiting weeks to dote on her, he was instantly guiding her to a chair and offering to fetch her water, apologies falling from his lips.
“I’m so sorry. I just heard banging. You were really going at those papers.”
Darcy looked over at the mangled meeting packets she’d been putting together for Coulson. Perhaps she had gotten a bit enthusiastic with the stapling in her rage.
“I was upset,” she said lamely, and Steve nodded, eyes full of understanding.
“I remember when Bucky’s mom was expe— upset.” Steve clearly remembered Sam’s advice, “She would get so riled up and Bucky and me would go down to the grocer to see about getting her some chocolate. She always craved it when she was — upset.”
Bless Steve Roger’s heart. He really was trying.
“I will allow you to admit you know I’m pregnant.” Darcy put him out of his misery, and his shoulders slumped in relief.
“Can I get you anything?” He asked plaintively.
She considered it. He could probably get her anything she wanted with those baby blues and his status in the city. “Actually, chocolate sounds good. Do you think you could find me a Hersey bar?” He looked thrilled to be given a task.
“Anything else?” He asked.
“Not unless you want to find my unwanted baby daddy and explain that his gifts are unnecessary and change nothing.” She said it out of frustration, but Steve’s shoulders went Captain America straight, his eyes serious.
“Is someone bothering you?”
“It’s nothing,” she hedged, but she could already tell she wasn’t going to wiggle away from the stare of justice so easily. “Just the father.” She rubbed at her stomach. “I thought I’d never see him again, but I ran into him during that Sharkman attack a few months ago and then again a few weeks ago in Brooklyn. Now he’s sending me gifts even though I told him I didn’t need anything from him.”
“You were out in that Sharkman mess?” Trust Steve to focus on the most critical facts.
“Well yeah, but I’m fine. Actually only because the guy — the father— stepped in. Was the weirdest thing, a Sharkman actually bit him. Had his whole arm in his mouth and he just punched it off, not a scratch on him.” Darcy said it absently. When she thought about it later, she would blame the pregnancy brain for over-sharing.
Steve made a choked-off noise. She looked back at him, expecting to find confusion or possibly interest on his face. Instead, he’d gone still and pale. “Darcy, what does he look like? The father?”
Darcy rubbed at her stomach. “About 6’2”, brown hair, blue eyes, chin dimple. Hot as fuck, to be honest.”
“Does he have an accent?” Steve was getting to his feet, and Darcy was pretty sure it was not to rush out to find her a Hersey bar.
“Sometimes,” she said, “I thought he was from Brooklyn the night we met but during the Sharkman thing it had changed. It was back the last time, though.” She hadn’t overthought it.
Steve had his phone out and was scrolling rapidly. He held it out, “Is this him?”
“Hey! Yeah — oh no.” Darcy stared at the grainy news screen grab on Steve’s phone. The hair was longer, and the face paler, but that was undoubtedly her baby’s sperm donor. Unfortunately, it was him wearing body armor. With his metal arm exposed. The words “Wanted: The Winter Soldier” in CNN’s custom scrolling font right there under his perfect leather-clad thighs.
“Darcy?” Steve made another choking sound.
“You know what?” She stood from her desk chair, gathering up her purse and blazer. “I’m going to take the afternoon off. I’ll email Coulson when I get home.”
She pushed past Steve and almost made it out of reach before his hand wrapped around her arm. “Darcy.” It was more pleading this time.
She looked from his hand back up to his face. “Are you planning to detain me Captain Rogers?” He released her instantly.
“No, no. No!”
“Then I’m going to head home. I’m not feeling well.” She left without a backward glance.
—
She was 24 weeks along, and she felt fluttering movement in her abdomen for the first time while staring out her apartment window. She’d been trying to figure out how to ditch the two plainclothes agents who’d been hanging around since her conversation with Steve a week before.
Coulson hadn’t brought it up beyond dropping the required surveillance forms on her desk and making small talk until she signed them. Clint had dropped by several times and hinted that he wouldn’t be opposed to a virgin margarita night to discuss the new development. Nat had left a set of knives on her desk. Tony seemed oblivious. Bruce just put her on a new vitamin regimen, muttering about some kind of serum. She hadn’t talked to Steve since.
It had taken Darcy one afternoon to come to terms with her new reality. She’d gone home, googled the Winter Soldier, finally learned his real name, and promptly used it to write him a letter. Not knowing where to send it, she’d left it on the fire escape outside her apartment. He seemed the type to hover. It had been gone the next morning. No more gifts arrived. She figured either he got the message or ran out of money.
Single parenthood was looking even more attractive after this latest revelation. What wasn’t going so well was single pregnancy.
She was horny.
She’d been horny.
The pregnancy book on her coffee table told her to expect to continue to be horny.
She’d been hoping to ditch the agents, go downtown, and see if she couldn’t find a nice man willing to help her out, baby bump or no, but that plan was quickly dissolving in the face of her inability to run or be sneaky with 15 extra pounds hanging off her front.
She sighed and turned back to the apartment. It was going to be another night of TV, takeout, and her trusty vibrator.
The soft tapping at her bedroom window woke her just before 2 am. She blinked rapidly in the dim light to be sure she was seeing what she thought she was seeing before stumbling clumsily from the bed to yank up the window.
Father of the year was perched on the fire escape looking like something out of a spy movie.
“What are you doing here?” She asked around a yawn, and he had the audacity to give her a grin that made dimples appear in his stupid stubble-covered cheeks.
“Wanna let me in sweetheart? I’ve only got another 45 seconds before your friends come this way on their rounds.” His eyes were so blue she could tell even in the near dark. She hated him just a little.
“I should make you stay out there. You lied to me.” She blocked his path into the apartment with her body, and his eyes fixated on her rounded stomach, more obvious than ever in the tight camisole she wore to bed.
“You know you want to let me in.” He at least looked her in the eyes when he talked to her instead of speaking to her stomach.
She counted to fifteen in her head and then stepped back. He rolled inside, closed the window, and then froze just in time for the beam of a flashlight to bounce around in the alley below.
“What’s wrong Bucky, don’t want to see your old friend Steve?” She crossed her arms under her chest and stared down at him sprawled at her feet, still hiding under the windowsill.
“Don’t be like that, doll. Close the curtains so I can stand up and let me explain. I came by to explain.”
She counted to thirty this time and sighed before reaching out to snap the roll-down shade into place. He jumped to his feet immediately. “I brought you something.” He walked past her into the living room like he owned the place, and Darcy followed with a frustrated groan.
Ten minutes later, she was drinking hot chocolate made with real milk and a melted Hersey bar and was seriously considering forgiveness for all his past sins, including the ones that were technically international crimes. She had some pull working for Coulson. She could make it happen for more of this warm, chocolatey goodness.
“Told you, you’d like it.” He looked far too smug. She glared at him over the rim of her mug.
“Explain.”
“How’s the nugget?”
“Explain.”
“I noticed you kept all the things I sent.”
“Explain.”
“You know most of it based on that letter you left me,” he sighed, running a gloved hand through his hair. “At least the public parts. The rest is just me trying to outrun Steve and remember who I am again.”
“And that ended with you fucking me in a club, how?” She took another sip of her cocoa, and he let out a humorless laugh.
“Well, you were there for most of that. Nothing too mysterious about two people finding each other attractive and doing something about it.” He paused and nodded at her stomach, “I am sorry about— I honestly thought they’d sterilized me decades ago.”
Darcy let that sink in for a moment and then set her mug down. He refilled it from the pot immediately. “I was a week overdue for my depo shot. I thought it wouldn’t matter,” she admitted. He nodded knowingly.
“I know you want to do it on your own. Your letter was very clear.” He ran a hand over his face, “Obviously I’m not able to be here even if you did want me around.”
“What with being wanted by every international law enforcement agency there is.” She finished for him.
“Yeah, that,” he agreed. “Would you at least tell me how it’s going?”
Like it knew it was being talked about, the spawn gave a kick, and Darcy rolled her eyes. “Fucking push over,” she muttered.
“What?”
“It’s kicking?” She knew she’d said the right thing from the way his face lit up. His eyes went wide in surprise, his mouth open in a silent exclamation. “It just started up today,” she added.
“Can I feel it?” One of his gloved hands jerked toward her almost involuntarily.
“Not yet,” she said, and she almost felt bad at how his eyes dimmed. “In another few weeks.” She paused, “If you come back, then you can.” She let the offer hang between them, and he looked hopeful.
“I can do that,” he said.
She looked him over. He was still gorgeous. And she’d never admit it, but she’d watched those videos of him fighting Steve on YouTube all afternoon. They had not helped her second-trimester sex hormone problem. Her baby daddy could get it.
“Do you still want to help?” She asked.
“Anything.” The answer was immediate. “What does it need?”
“Not the baby. Me. Do you still want to help me?” She clarified.
His smile went wide, “What do you need, sweetheart?” Oh, she could definitely work with that.
“I need to get laid.” No reason to be shy.
His head cocked to the side, his grin wolfish. “Well why didn’t you say so before?”
She stood up, pressing a hand to her aching lower back. “No need to be cute about it. You’re doing all the work and I expect to see that arm.”
His eyes went wide in something just a bit like worship. “Ma’am, yes ma’am.”
She turned toward the bedroom, not bothering to make sure he followed. “You can call me that during if you’d like.”
His breathless “fucking hell,” was music to her ears.
—
Jane brought it up for the first time when Darcy was 30 weeks along, heavy with extra weight, and no longer had discernible ankles.
“Well how was I supposed to know?” Darcy’s oldest friend asked around a bite of her pancakes.
“You’ve seen me in this lab for breakfast-for-dinner night every week for the last seven months. We have talked about nursery themes and my plans to skip the epidural,” Darcy said dryly.
Jane’s chewing slowed, a sure sign she was thinking hard. “I thought the nursery was for your friend Marlene. The one that works on the floor below you.”
“Marlene got a new puppy last month. The nursery was for me,” Darcy said with infinite patience.
Jane swallowed. “How can I help?” And that was why Darcy hung around through all the absent-minded craziness that was Jane Foster. Because she may not be particularly observant of those around her, but once she got there, she was the best person to have in your corner.
“I could use a lamaze partner. I was hoping it would be you.” Darcy couldn’t think of anyone else she’d want in the delivery room. At least no one who could be there.
“I can do that,” Jane agreed instantly. “Do you think you could find a class that’s during the —“
“3 pm every Wednesday on the fourth floor. I’m pretty sure Tony rented retail space to the studio just because I’m pregnant but I’m not going to complain. He’s single handedly clothed me for the last five months.” Darcy took another huge bite of her waffles.
“I’ll be there!” Jane said, “And in the delivery room. Do you want me to send a message to Thor? He’s also the god of fertility you know.”
Darcy did not know that.
“Couldn’t hurt,” she said with a shrug.
“So does it have a dad?” Jane seemed hesitant to bring it up, and Darcy sighed.
“Technically we all have dads Janie.”
“You know what I mean.” Jane gave her a stern look.
“It does have a father. One who is unable to be present at this time.” Darcy hedged, “But if he could be around I think he would be.”
“His loss. You’re going to be a great mom.” Jane added more syrup to her pancakes, and Darcy was glad she’d gotten the whole grain ones to balance the sugar.
“Thanks. I think so too. I’ve got this covered.”
“Of course you do. You’re you.”
—
“God that feels so good,” Darcy moaned, arching her back to increase the pressure.
“Right there?” Bucky asked, his fingers digging in deeper.
“Yes, oh my god.” She let out another low moan. “So good.”
“You’re going to give me a complex, doll. You sound like a blue film,” he said around a chuckle, his fingers continuing to work on the knots in her lower back.
“Don’t even talk to me about sex right now,” she warned, and he let out another laugh.
“I got that message. Loud and clear the other night,” he agreed.
He’d been coming by at least once a week, often more, since the night with the hot cocoa. Apparently, the agents watching her apartment were not the deterrent or protection Steve and Coulson thought they were. It had been about the sex at first. And, my god, was it great sex. Then it had become about continuing to bring her gifts. Now it seemed more about general companionship and possibly affection.
Darcy was trying not to look too hard at it. He still wasn’t going to be able to be a father to the kid. She couldn’t have him sneaking in the window to do middle-of-the-night diaper changes after all. She was going to handle this on her own. She was just taking advantage of helping hands while she could. And what great hands they were. Large and strong and willing to do almost anything she asked, including rubbing her aching back for an hour at a time.
She was just about to tell him he could stop when the spawn started to kick. Bucky still hadn’t gotten to feel it move, having missed it during his previous visits. Darcy had a theory about sex putting it to sleep, but she wasn’t sharing that one with anybody.
She sat up quickly, ignoring Bucky’s noise of surprise to pull her camisole up and reveal her rounded stomach. “Quick, quick.” She grabbed his right hand, the flesh and blood one, and placed it over the place she felt the last push. “Just wait.” He was patient. She knew he’d wait all night, he’d tried to once, but she’d kicked him out, needing her sleep.
When nothing more happened after a count to ten, Darcy poked, “I know you’re awake, you little monster. It’s got to be getting tight in there.” She poked again, pressing hard on the side opposite Bucky’s hand.
The kick in response was sharp. Almost painful from the inside but 100% worth it for the punched-out noise Bucky made. She looked up to find him staring firmly at her stomach, awe written into every line of his face. Darcy poked again, and another sharp punch came in response.
“Here, can you feel it with this hand?” She grabbed the metal hand and put it on the other side, so he was cradling her pregnant belly. “I think the head’s here?” She pressed at a spot where she was pretty sure her liver used to be, and another flurry of movement followed.
He looked up from her stomach to her, and Darcy was surprised to see his eyes were wet, his dark lashes clumped together. “I never thought—“He cut himself off and swallowed thickly.
“Yep,” Darcy agreed. “I told you we’d get it to move for you eventually.”
“Thank you,” he said, and Darcy had a feeling she was being thanked for more than the opportunity to grope her stomach.
She floundered for a minute, uncertain of how to proceed past what was clearly such an emotional moment. “You’re welcome?”
“I know you don’t need me Darcy.” His eyes were dark with emotion. “But I’d like the chance to prove you might want me around someday.”
Now it was her turn to swallow around a lump in her throat. She’d never admit it, but she’d been having similar thoughts. It was hard not to when he kept showing up with his manners and charm, and talented hands. Not to mention his earnest desire to mold himself into whatever she needed at the time.
She could almost see it. Them at a playground. A little dark-haired, blue-eyed kid swinging on their hands as they walked. Bucky kissing her sweetly on the lips over the sprout’s head. Getting ice cream on their way home.
“We can talk about that,” she finally said, and it was the closest she’d ever gotten to admitting she might not want to do this parenthood thing alone since it all started.
“Yeah?” He looked so hopeful.
“Yeah,” she agreed.
—
She was 35 weeks in and miserable when she had her first contraction.
It was just bad luck that it happened while she was standing next to Coulson on the landing pad of the tower, welcoming the team back from a successful mission. One minute she was joking with Sam Wilson about his new flight suit, the next, she was doubled over, clutching her abdomen in pain.
“Darcy!” It was Steve who immediately leapt into action. An arm around her waist and another pulling her hair back from her face. “What is it? Are you okay?
“Hurts,” she yelped as another pain rippled through her stomach.
“Alert medical,” Coulson was ordering, and then Darcy’s feet were off the ground as Steve scooped her up like she weighed nothing.
“You’ll be okay. We’re going straight down to medical.” Steve sounded calm, but his eyes were huge.
It wasn’t supposed to happen for another month. That was the only thought racing through Darcy’s brain as Steve rushed them into the elevator, and Tony shouted to JARVIS to make it a non-stop to floor 37. Another pain gripped her as they rode down, and she writhed in Steve’s arms.
She’d had a plan.
There was a burner phone in her purse up on the landing pad with one number in it that was crucial to the plan.
The elevator doors opened on the medical floor, and Steve ignored the gurney waiting for them to carry her down the hall and into a room quickly being set up. Tony had clearly been busy.
Nurses were attaching sensors the moment Steve set her down, and Darcy cried out as another pain wracked her abdomen. He turned to go, and she caught his hand. “Get Jane,” she asked.
He nodded, “Of course.”
“And —“Darcy cut herself off, but she saw the hope land in Steve’s eyes.
These contractions were far too close together to be normal. She needed to breathe. Another pain tore through her, and she squeezed Steve’s fingers so hard she heard him grunt. When it passed, his eyes were still locked on her face, “And what?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Nothing,” she said.
“I’ll get Jane.”
Jane showed up, but the party was already over. Braxton Hicks, Bruce explained. Expected at this phase of pregnancy, very painful but not real. The baby was fine. Everything looked normal. It had even started to turn, getting ready to enter the world. Not long now, Bruce reassured her.
Jane kissed Darcy’s forehead and went back to her lab. Darcy put her work clothes back on and was ready to get home on Coulson’s orders.
Steve caught up with her at the nurse’s station on the way to the elevators. He had her purse in one big hand. He walked next to her in silence, waiting until they were on the elevator to reach out and hit the stop button.
“This is technically kidnapping,” Darcy commented dryly, and Steve gave her a stern look.
“You know where he is.” It was not a question.
“Who?”
“Bucky.”
“If you don’t, I’m not sure what it has to do with me.” She reached out to take her purse, and Steve pulled it back against his chest.
“There’s a burner phone in here with only one number in it. Who would pick up if I called?” Steve Rogers was too smart for his own good.
“My drug dealer.” She just wanted to go home.
“Is he really the father, Darcy?” His eyes pleaded with her.
“He’s more than capable of reaching out if he wanted to talk to you, Steve. I’m not a bargaining chip in the middle of your bromance of international consequence. I have just had a very traumatic experience, and I’d like to go home and rest.” That did the trick. His shoulders slumped in defeat, and he handed her bag over.
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He pushed the button to start the elevator moving, and Darcy let out a breath.
They were five floors from the bottom when he spoke again, “Does he remember? Is he safe?”
Darcy tensed. He did remember. He’d taken to telling her stories of pre-serum Steve Rogers to help her fall asleep at night. “Your mother’s name was Sarah,” she whispered. “And you used to have to use newspapers to make your shoes fit.”
Steve’s gasp could have filled volumes.
The elevator doors opened, and Darcy walked out.
—
“You’re sure it’s okay?” It was two days later, and Bucky had both hands pressed to her distended stomach, his face inches from her once-an-innie belly button.
“Yes.” She carded her fingers through his hair.
This level of intimacy was new. Developed sometime in the last month. She was pretty sure he lived in her apartment now. She was choosing not to ask questions she didn’t actually want answered.
“Have you had more pain?” His hands slid over her tight skin, one finger tracing the dark line that led down into her sleep pants.
“A little but Bruce says that it’s normal. Only a few weeks left.” She was so ready for it to be over. To meet the little person she’d been growing all this time.
“Have you decided on a name?” She liked the way he phrased it. Full acknowledgment that she might have already picked something out before he pushed his way into the situation and wrapped himself around her and their little monster so entirely she wasn’t sure what she wanted anymore.
It made her feel grounded.
It also made her feel lonely.
They should name it together. That’s what parents did, right?
“Not yet. Do you have any ideas?” She tried to sound casual. She knew from the way his hands flexed against her skin, and his breathing stuttered that she’d failed.
“My ma’s name was Winnifred. Kind of formal these days, but I’ve always liked it, and she could go by Winnie.” He said it so soft and kind that Darcy almost had to sit up to hear.
“Winnie,” she whispered to herself. “You know with our luck, she’ll grow up a rebel and insist on going by Fred.”
He chuckled, and Darcy could feel his breath against her skin. “Nothin’ wrong with that either.”
“Okay,” Darcy said, and his head popped up over her stomach so fast it made her dizzy.
“Okay what?” he asked.
“Okay, if it’s a girl we’ll call her Winnifred.” It was worth it just for the way he smiled.
—
“What if it’s a boy?” Jane asked.
They were out shopping. Darcy was 38 and 1/2 weeks along, and she was pretty sure she didn’t actually have feet anymore.
“Theodore,” Darcy said, “After my father.”
“That’s perfect.” Jane held up a pair of heeled boots, and Darcy shook her head.
“There is no way I can wear heels for at least a year. My feet no longer exist as far as I’m concerned.”
“Should we be shopping for the baby?” Jane was looking quizzically at the racks of adult-sized shoes as though just realizing they weren’t for the soon-to-be arriving guest of honor.
“I think I’ve got all that covered.” Darcy brushed her fingers over a pair of suede heels. She missed sexy shoes.
“Do you need snowsuits? Babies wear snow suits right? I swear I’ve seen them, little things with built in mittens….”
Jane was still talking, but Darcy was no longer listening. Something had shifted inside her. Something more significant than a kick. Different. She pressed a hand low on her stomach, trying to feel out any clue as to what might have changed, and then she felt a warm trickle of liquid rush out, trailing down her legs.
“Uh Darce?” Jane was staring, “Did you just pee?”
“My water broke.” Darcy’s heart pounded in her ears.
“Your water broke?!” Jane’s shriek could have shattered glass. “Are you having contractions?”
“I’ve had a backache?” Darcy admitted, and Jane let out another inarticulate shout.
“Okay, let’s go.” Jane herded Darcy from the store. Waving off the efforts of the saleswoman to assist.
On the curb in the biting February wind, Jane stretched on her toes to flag down a cab while Darcy huddled in her coat, both arms wrapped around her stomach. They were in Brooklyn. Darcy’s doctor was in Manhattan, in tower medical, if, of course, he wasn’t on a mission being the Hulk right now.
She was just starting to work herself up into a panic when a familiar arm wrapped around her waist. “You in labor?” Bucky’s voice was warm in her ear, and Darcy looked up in time to see Jane’s eyes widen in recognition.
“Yes.” It came out much weaker than she would have liked.
“That’s okay, sweetheart. We’ll get you where you need to go.” He raised a hand to his mouth and whistled like a pro. A cab appeared at the curb like magic.
“I could have done that,” Jane whined.
“Of course, you could have,” Darcy consoled as Bucky got them into the backseat.
He gave the tower address and then held out a folded hundred to the cabbie, “Another on top of the fare if you make it quick.” Darcy felt her heart stutter in her chest.
They made it to Manhattan in record time. Jane timed her contractions, and Bucky sacrificed his flesh hand to Darcy’s need to squeeze something until someone else was in pain with her.
Steve met them at the curb. His eyes locked on Bucky through the car window like he was a miracle. To Steve’s credit, though, the minute Bucky helped Darcy out of the cab, he immediately focused on the situation at hand, which was not tackling his oldest friend to the sidewalk and never letting go.
It wasn’t until Darcy was in a hospital gown on the 37th floor, hooked up to all sorts of monitors, that she turned to Bucky and asked, “How is it you’re here right now?”
He gave her a half smile and an aww shucks shrug. “I figure it’s about time I set a better example when it comes to taking responsibility for my actions. Can’t exactly ground the kid one day if I won’t take my own licks.”
She opened and closed her mouth a few times because that was a gross oversimplification of his circumstances, and they both knew it. Her eyes drifted to the armed guard posted outside her hospital room. “He here for you?”
Bucky blinked. “Yeah, doll. But not until later and not forever.” He squeezed her hand, and she closed her eyes to ward off the sting of tears.
“I think it might be the hormones but I both really like you and I really hate you right now,” she said.
He laughed and leaned forward to press his forehead to hers. “I know,” he agreed. “And I bet it’s going to tip much closer to hate here in a few hours so why not be sweet to me while you still can?”
She opened her eyes and looked into his pretty blue gaze. “Well if you’re going to play daddy you can get me some ice chips.”
He stole a kiss. A quick peck that had nothing on some of the better ones he’d laid on her in the last few months. “There’s my girl.”
She rolled her eyes. “Not your girl,” she warned.
“We’ll see,” he said confidently.
Darcy’s reply was cut off by a grunt of pain as another contraction tore through her.
It was not an easy labor. Darcy did hate him before it was over. She told him so several times. She got Jane to tell him so when the pain got so bad she couldn’t get the words out. He let her squeeze his hand until his bones ground together and whispered encouragement in her ear.
And 28 hours later, Winnifred Jane Lewis entered the world absolutely furious, at a whopping 8 lbs 12 ounces.
They laid her on Darcy’s chest, covered in a disgusting mix of blood and white gunk, while Bucky cut the umbilical cord. Darcy looked down at her daughter, and she knew she’d never love anything more.
It was Steve who bought them some extra time.
Not a lot. Not what might have been needed to escape. Not that Bucky seemed inclined to run.
No.
He seemed content to sit, perched on the edge of Darcy’s bed. One arm around her shoulders, his head tucked close to hers, a finger rubbing at his daughter’s cheek while she nursed from her mother’s breast.
He was holding Winnie when they finally came for him. His arms, both flesh, and metal, carefully cradling the life they’d created together, and Darcy was pretty sure her heart had grown three sizes at the sight of his face when he stared down at their little girl. He did not seem concerned that she more closely resembled a potato than a human child. Had, in fact, scolded Darcy for saying so.
“Steve agrees, doesn’t he?” Bucky asked like his best friend wasn’t standing in front of him looking like a kicked puppy with four guards in SWAT gear at his back. “She’s the prettiest baby girl ever born right, Stevie?”
“She’s gorgeous Buck,” Steve said, and Darcy wanted to hug him despite how mad she was about all of it. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks, Steve,” he said, and then he danced over to Darcy’s bed, “Back to your ma little one.” He passed Winnie over like she was made of glass. “Be good. Take care of each other until I can come back.” He pressed another kiss to Darcy’s lips and smoothed her hair back from her face to take a long look.
“Come back,” She said, and she watched his eyes widen, his mouth twitching up into the lazy grin she’d gotten to know so well.
“Course I will, sweetheart. Couldn’t keep me away.” The last was said with a look at the guards, and Darcy knew a threat when she heard one. They did too, based on the way they all shifted nervously.
He went calm and easy. Steve, a pillar of strength at his side. Darcy watched them walk away until she couldn’t anymore. Then she looked back to her daughter.
The two of them, alone together. Just like she’d planned from the start.
The tears weren’t really a surprise after that.
—
Single parenting was hard.
Single parenting, when no one would tell you what had become of your baby daddy, felt harder.
It was the emotional weight Darcy decided.
Bucky’s unknown fate and Steve’s continued absence like a physical anchor tied around her neck. She felt it every time she found something else of his hiding around her apartment. She felt it in every lonely midnight feeding and blow-out diaper change that she would have preferred to pawn off on him.
Jane helped. Jane helped far more than Darcy expected.
Clint and Nat helped too.
Tony sent a robotic nanny that Darcy banished back to the tower within an hour.
Winnie was 10 weeks old and finally looked less like a potato and more like a cute human baby when Darcy decided to take her to the park for the first time. They’d been cooped up in the apartment for most of her life, Darcy too scared and too exhausted to take her out in the frigid New York winter. It had been getting warmer, though, and spring was starting to settle over the city.
So she bundled her girl up, dragged the stroller down the two flights of stairs, and took them on an outing. It was a good decision. The fresh air helped clear her head. Winnie made adorable faces. All the books said she could still only see shapes, but Darcy let herself imagine anyway.
She could be a single parent. She was a single parent.
The thing was, she thought to herself on the walk back, she didn’t want to be a single parent.
She’d never planned to end up raising a kid with a guy she banged in a nightclub bathroom, but she could not have gotten luckier in her choice of guy. She missed Bucky. Missed his flirting and his smile, and his easy confidence. She really missed his hands on her back and his mouth on her skin. She absolutely missed his sense of humor and his kindness. She wouldn’t say no to getting another look at his ass, either.
She let out a breath as she came around the last corner to their street. She’d ask Coulson again tomorrow. He’d been dodging her calls but maybe if she went into Manhattan. She wasn’t due back at work for another three weeks, but she could still go visit. Show off her cute as fuck kid. People did that.
She didn’t see him sitting on the stoop until she was almost on top of him. When she did see him, she froze.
He was on the top step, long legs stretched out in front of him, leaning back on his elbows. He was wearing a flannel, jeans, no gloves. The metal hand glinted in the sunlight. He grinned as he jumped to his feet and loped down the steps, pausing to coo at the sleeping Winnie for a moment before straightening up to stand only a few inches away.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes.” He was nothing but 1940’s charm. Darcy punched him in the chest. “Ow.” He rubbed at his right pec.
“Arrested hours after she’s born, gone for weeks with no word, your dumb golden-retriever best friend gone with you, and that’s how you come back?” She was sure the neighbors would have a story to tell tomorrow based on her volume alone.
He caught her hand before she could hit him again, “They don’t exactly give out phone calls at the places I was being kept,” he said, and then he reeled her in with one hand, the other steadying the stroller. “Doesn’t mean I didn’t miss you,” he said quietly, “certainly doesn’t mean I didn’t want to be here with you both the whole time I was gone.”
She was pressed against him now, and the hand he didn’t have on the stroller was tight at her hip.
“Are you here to stay?” She wasn’t sure she could watch him leave a second time. There was strong, and then there was impenetrable. She’d always had a soft underbelly.
“Yes,” he said against her mouth, so close she could feel his breath. “Free and clear. If you want me?”
She met his eyes and found all the insecurity he’d been hiding behind his swagger lurking there. She swallowed.
“I wouldn’t mind some help.”
His smile rivaled the afternoon sun.
“Anything for my girls,” he said, and then he kissed her. Long and sweet right there in the street, and Darcy swore her toes curled.