Happy Birthday, techbeck!
May 25 - Bucky/Darcy "Is there a mirror in your pocket? Because I look great - wait, I said that wrong." for @techbeck
(and thank you to @celiaequus ’ mother for putting Lurky Barnes in my head)
“I’m gonna hit on him,” Darcy said, putting her empty shot glass down on the bar.
“Who?” Jane looked up in alarm.
“Lurky.”
“How many of those have you had?” Jane eyed the shot glass.
“Enough, finally.”
“Just don’t forget that his name’s not actually Lurky McMurderThighs!” Jane called cheerfully after her as Darcy set off across the bar in a determinedly straight line, which, if she could only have seen it, was decidedly wavery.
She’d been trying to pluck up the courage to ask him out for weeks now. He flirted, gave her bedroom eyes across the room even, but didn’t seem predisposed to make an actual move. And asking out an Avenger was really rather out of Darcy’s life experience. Very different to hitting on a fellow intern or college student.
So, after a lot of Dutch courage she’d found in a tequila bottle, she’d decided that tonight was the night she was going to hit on him. He’d been giving her those bedroom eyes across the room again.
What shall I say? she mused as she strode (wove) determinedly in his direction. Some cheesy pickup line, he’ll laugh at least… maybe ‘Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?’
She tried it out in her head. Could work. Or there’s always the old standby ‘Is that a mirror in your pocket? Because I can see myself in your pants’.
Actually, he’s wearing really nice pants tonight. Tight black denim jeans which were setting those fabulous murder thighs off nicely. He tipped his head as she approached, his far-too-swishy hair falling gracefully around his ridiculously good-looking face.
Totally thrown by his attractiveness - even regular exposure didn’t seem to alter how he affected her - Darcy’s tongue tangled up on her and delivered a muddled mess.
“Is that a mirror in your pocket? Because I look great!”
Bucky’s eyebrows went up.
“Wait. I said that wrong. Oh God.” She’d just made an utter idiot of herself in front of him. Again.
“You do look great, doll,” he said with a low chuckle. “I ain’t got a mirror, though. ‘Cept this,” he gestured with his shining arm.
“It’s so pretty,” Darcy reached out to touch the gleaming, shimmering plates lightly. “Like you. Everything about you is so pretty.”
“I think maybe you’ve had a few drops too many, doll,” Bucky slipped his other arm around her waist gently.
“Can’t talk to you otherwise,” Darcy confessed, tongue thoroughly loosened by the alcohol. “You’re very inti - intiminat - intermin - scary.”
“Not to you, doll. You don’t ever hafta be scared of me.” Bucky laughed at the thought. “Or intimidated, if that’s what you were tryin’ ta say.” Gently, he reached up, smoothed her hair back from her face. “Why don’t we go an’ get some coffee into you, huh?”
“Is that a date, Lur- Bucky?” she asked hopefully, just covering the slip on his name in time. She hoped.
For a moment, he looked a little surprised, and then he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s a date, Darcy.”
