Darcy swirled the wine in her glass and tipped her head back, the sun shining down, sweat beading on her warm skin. The balcony was deserted and since everyone else had headed off to do various things she had the place to herself. Hence the bikini, the wine and her lazy summer play list blaring on the sound system.The only thing missing was ice cream. She’d checked both the kitchens and called down to catering but it seemed there was none to be had. Typical. The temperature soars and no one has any.
She’d grumbled about it all the way down from her room with her hot pink towel and sunglasses already placed firmly on her face.
The only other resident of the compound, apart from her, had been conspicuously absent. Bucky Barnes tended to hide when Steve and Sam weren’t there to be a buffer, but he was usually around to tease her at least once a day. It was a damn shame because she could really use a hand right about now with her sun cream.
As though the assassin has heard her prayers, she detected the faintest sound of someone clearing their throat and tapping lightly on the glass before he came sauntering into view.
“Lewis”
“Barnes”
She looked at him over the top of her over sized sunglasses and made a noise of outrage.
“Where the hell did you find ice cream?”
Bucky smiled slowly.
“Why? You want some Doll?”
“Hand it over Barnes, it’s too hot and I’m too tired to play games.”
“Not a chance, sweet cheeks, I had to travel over to Queens to get this.”
He made his way over to the other sun lounger and placed the tub of ice cream down on the table before stripping off his shirt.
Darcy’s mouth went dry. Behind her glasses her eyes widened and she cursed silently as her heart raced. Fuck. She knew he was built, that he was a super soldier, but the man wore layers, all the time. She reached for the wine and took a discrete gulp. Bucky smirked over at her and lay back on the wooden lounger, twirling the spoon between his fingers. Narrowing her eyes in annoyance she smiled back sweetly, silently cursing.
“You’re looking a little pink sweetheart, see something you like?”
“Nope, I just need a little more sun screen. Speaking of which I hope you won’t burn.”
Her tone was saccharine sweet. She enjoyed the way he flinched. She hoped he choked on that ice cream.
Darcy reached for the bottle and squirted some onto her palm before slicking it over he shoulders pointedly ignoring the man.
Bucky regretted being so obstinate about a half a second after he spoke. Darcy was a hell of a dame. She looked like a pin up girl in her two piece, every curve shown off to it’s best advantage and her pale skin glowing.
“You need a little help with that?” He asked, trying to sound as though he didn’t want an excuse to get his hands on her.
“From you? Nope, no sir. I’ll manage just fine. I wouldn’t want you to go out of your way after that long journey to Queens.”
“Don’t be like that Doll, maybe I was a little hasty…” He trailed off as she dipped down to smooth the cream over her legs.
She looked up sharply and caught him staring. So, he was interested. It had been hard to tell, he certainly didn’t give much away, but she had had enough men stare at the girls to know when someone was imagining sticking their face between them.
“Hasty?”
Bucky could feel a blush rising in his cheeks as she peered over the rim of her sunglasses, her cleavage fully on display.
“Rude.” He back tracked. “I don’t know what I was thinking, My Ma taught me better than that.”
Darcy hummed in agreement. “Swap?” she asked, holding the bottle of sun cream out. “I’ll even help you rub it into you back.”
He bit his lip, suddenly realising the game they were playing. But he could be forgiven for being a little rusty, right? It had been awhile since a dame had flirted so prettily with him. He stood, picking up the ice cream and made his way over.
“Would you like some Doll?”
“Why thank you kindly Mr Barnes, I don’t mind if I do.”
Darcy gives him her best smile, teeth flashing as she takes the tub and spoon in exchange for the sun cream. She’s hyper aware of the nearness of his body as she shifts, turning so he can sit beside her on the lounger, shifting so her back to him.
Bucky swallows a little, she wasn’t afraid to turn her back. It might seem like a small thing, but the measure of trust it implied was heavy. He didn’t think many people would trust him with their goldfish let alone their back. He got to work, his hands smoothing along silky sun warm skin. She felt soft under his finger tips. It was the tiny moan of pleasure she made that had his mind come hurtling back to the present.
“You enjoying that?” he asked her, a smile creeping into his words.
“Sure, the ice creams to die for.” Darcy managed to grit out. The feel of his hands on her, had her wetter than a Scottish spring.
“Just the ice cream?”
Darcy didn’t know whether curse him or laugh.
“Well the company left a lot to be desired, but I think he’s turning it around.”
“Is that so?”
Darcy bites her lip, suppress the need to arch her back as he rubs the cream in, his fingers kneading into her back and working out all the kinks while he’s there.
“You know…” Darcy started. “it’s meant to be even hotter tomorrow.”
“That your way of asking for more ice cream?”
“Maybe.”
They share a small smile before he turns his attention to her back once more.
“You’re not worried about tan lines?” He asks snapping one strap on her top.
Darcy giggles and turns her head to look at him
“Really? I mean, if you want me to strip, you could just ask.”
“Can I ask for some of my ice cream back?”
He peers over her shoulder just as she finishes the last spoonful, creamy white slipping between lips red as sin.
She feels caught in his gaze, unable to swallow that last spoonful and doesn’t move as his eyes move to her lips. Doesn’t move as his head tilts closer, intentions clear. Instead she leans in and feels the soft brush on his lips on hers, feels him pluck the tub and spoon from her fingers and discard them on the patio. Then she’s on his lap as he licks between her lips, sweet, sugary, wet kisses, as he practically eats her mouth out. She surrenders into the kiss completely, a keening moan let lose as he grabs her hips, rocking her forward and the hardness nestled into her grows, her body acting on instinct and moving over him, trying desperately to create more of that delicious friction.
When he breaks the kiss, both of them are panting heavily, the sweat slicked skin of his chest pressed tightly to hers.
“I think we’re gonna need more ice cream.” She says with a giggle.
Bucky’s smile turns dangerously wicked.
“I might just have another tub back in my apartment. Want to share?”
If anyone had been there to see, they wouldn’t have believed it. Darcy Lewis slung over the shoulder of a half-naked Winter Soldier, both of them laughing all the way back to the residential floor.
Well. There was one person. Friday recorded the event for Dr Foster and Captain Rogers. Both of whom had asked her to keep an eye on the two. Being the helpful AI that she was she placed an order for a large quantity of ice cream to be delivered for the next day, after all, it was forecast to be even hotter.
Day 7 of the molly appreciation week prompt. content warning! slightly smutty under the cut……. enjoy!
Sherlock rolled his eyes and checked his watch.
“Do you have somewhere to be brother mine?” Ask Mycroft from his spot standing by the window in Sherlock’s sitting room.
“No, you’re just boring me.” Came Sherlock’s droll reply.
“Are you sure? It is Tuesday night after all, you usually have your scheduled date with Miss Hooper, tonight don’t you?” He said smirking.
“And yet dear brother, knowing that information you still chose to come here and bore me with your silly problem.” Sherlock retorted, shifting his legs in his leather chair.
“National security is everyone’s silly little problem Sherlock.” Mycroft responded.
“Good, go talk to someone else. I’m busy.” Said Sherlock rising from his chair and showing his brother to the door.
“I’ll leave the file here then.” He said putting the manila envelope on the table. “In case your date ends early again.”
Sherlock felt a cool drop of anger roll down his back. “Leave.” He said staring his brother down.
Mycroft opened his mouth to reply, but thought the better of it. He calmly walked past the younger Holmes to the door. “Love, is making you slow brother dear.” He said quietly as he walked down the stairs.
Sherlock slammed the door behind him in response, and walked to the couch, throwing himself down like a petulant child.
It had been three months since the Sherringford incident and Mycroft was always tense when he knew Sherlock had a visit scheduled. It was a constant reminder of how he had failed both his siblings and their parents. Sherlock knew he was just lashing out. But bringing Molly into it was a low blow. He sighed and checked his watch again. Molly finished work in half an hour, she would go home and change and expect him to arrive in an hour.
He had some time to kill. Sherlock though he should probably look at the case his dear brother had left him, but instead he chose to lament.
They were fine, he had been assured. Their relationship was progressing normally. Which would be good if he had any idea of what normal meant. John told him earlier today that self-doubt was a perfectly natural occurrence when talking into consideration the feelings of those he loved, but it was new to him.
The problem was, he didn’t know how to gauge how she was feeling. They went out to dinner, to films, they held hands and kissed. But only on their dates. In the morgue, it was strictly business, and they rarely spoke outside of work unless they were on a date. He wanted more. He wanted her to be with him always, he wanted to reach out and brush the loose hair from her face when it fell as she looked through the microscope at Barts. He wanted to fall asleep next to her. To talk to her until the sun came up and they were both too exhausted to work.
But he had to respect her, he would move as slowly as she needed.
******************************
Molly sighed and rubbed her tired shoulder. Today had been exhausting, she had been filling in for Mike’s classes as he was on holidays and the interns had drained her. Maybe she was just used to a higher caliber of intelligence these days. Sherlock was spoiling her.
She smiled thinking about the tall Mr Holmes and checked the clock on the wall. Fifteen minutes until she could sign off and get ready for her date. Sherlock would be at her flat in forty-five to pick her up.
It didn’t give her long to get ready. She missed Mary the most on date nights. Molly had never really had many girlfriends, and Mary had been the best. Always up for a laugh, or gossiping about their boys. Molly wished her friend could have been there to see her and Sherlock start dating. Mary would know how to tell Sherlock how she felt.
It wasn’t that things weren’t going well. No, it was nice, they were nice. But she couldn’t help wanting more. They had been officially dating a week when Sherlock had shown up with a flow chart and a calendar to schedule their dates for the next six months. “It’s practical Molly, this way I can’t get lost in a case.” He had explained.
At the time, she thought it was cute. Now, she wished he would see her more often than the one date a week two in the last week of the month schedule. He came into her work of course, but that was always case related and he never acted like they were together. Ever professional, ever frustrating.
She wanted to run her hands through his hair, and kiss his cheek as he looked through the microscope. She wanted to have a picnic on the roof at midnight. She wanted to do more than just kiss him and hold his hand.
But she had to respect him, she would move as slowly as he needed.
**********************************
She had just gotten home and was just about to get in the shower when the shower head burst out of the wall. She screamed as it broke through the glass shower door sending the glass shattering at her feet. The water poured out of the gap in torrents as she irrationally tried to plug the hole with her hand. She slipped on the wet tiles and winced as a shard of glass pierced her bare foot. “Fuck!” She cried.
Abandoning the still running shower Molly grabbed her towel and wrapped it around her middle before limping out into the kitchen to her first aid kit. She was surprised when she saw a heavy breathing Sherlock standing in her hallway. “Molly, I heard screaming. Your bleeding! What happened?” He asked rushing over to her.
She scowled in embarrassment, what was he doing here? She still had fifteen minutes until their date started. “I’m fine, the stupid shower head just exploded out of the wall.” She replied pushing him away and attempting to limp over to the kitchen.
A moment later she was lifted off her feet as he scooped her up and walked to the bench. “You’re getting blood on your pants.” She said softly.
“It’s not the first time.” He replied setting her down. “Now let’s take a look.”
“It’s fine, really.” She argued as he lifted her foot up to inspect the wound.
“It’s not deep, and I don’t think you have any glass in it. It should be fine with some butterfly clips don’t you think?” He assessed.
“Yeah.” She replied going red. “First aid kit is over there.” Said Molly pointing to the top of the fridge.
He glided over and grabbed the kit, resting it on the bench next to her. Taking off his coat and jacked he pulled out the iodine, gauze and some clips. Then he set about cleaning the offending wound. She winced as he dropped the iodine into the fresh cut and saw his eyebrows crease in concern. “Alright?” He checked.
“Yeah, sorry. Stings a bit.” She replied nodding at him to continue.
When the wound was clean he pinched the skin together and stuck on the lips before wrapping her entire foot in a bandage.
“There now, all better.” He said his eyes catching her own tenderly.
She was suddenly aware of the fact that she was only clad in a very small, very wet towel. “Ah, Sherlock, can you help me get to the bedroom? I need to put on my robe.” Her cheeks were completely crimson now.
He nodded and scooped her up again, this time she wrapped an arm around his neck to help support herself. As Sherlock carried her into the bedroom he couldn’t help notice the similarities to this situation and the bridal tradition of carry your new wife over the threshold. Of course, the brides weren’t usually bleeding at the time. He placed her on the bed and walked into the bathroom to assess the damage.
The shower head had taken out some tiles as well as the glass door and the water still poured out of the pipe where it once lived. He made his way quickly to the taps and turned off the water soaking himself in the process. Well, he thought, can’t be helped. At least the blood wouldn’t set on his pants now.
Molly heard the water go off as she shimmied across the bed to grab her robe. Tying it up over the towel she looked up to see Sherlock standing at the door to the bathroom. She let out a laugh, she couldn’t help it. He was flooded with water, hair that usually sat in dark curls across his head now lay flat in sodden chunks. “So” She said between fits of laughter. “You got the water off then.”
“Yes.” He replied. “And I had a look at the shower head, it’s completely rusted through. You should have told me it needed replacing.”
The idea of Sherlock filling in as her plumber set her off in to hysterics again, and as she laughed she wondered if she was going into shock from the ordeal. “It’s not funny Molly, you could have been killed.” He said pushing his matted hair back from his face.
“Sorry, I, I, it’s just. Well you look ridiculous.” She laughed.
“Yes well.” He said with a sigh undoing the buttons to his shirt.
He had removed his possessions from Molly’s house months ago, so as to make sure she was comfortable with the new relationship. But now he was stuck with an interesting problem. He was soaking wet, the only towel in the room was currently draped around his pathologist, and he had nothing dry to wear. His hand paused on the second button of his white shirt. “Do you have anything I could change into?” He asked.
The laughter died in her throat with a cough. Of course, he didn’t have any clothes here anymore, she thought, biting her lower lip. There was something…. but he wasn’t going to like it.
She leaned over to the draws by her bed and rolled out the bottom one. Inside was a pair of black silk pajama bottoms with chili’s on them and the words ‘hot stuff’ written on the waistband. She held them out to him hoping he wouldn’t ask who’s they were, she really didn’t want to explain why she kept her ex Toms pants in her bedside table draw. Not that there was any bad reason for it, she just like the way the material felt on her legs and had never returned them when they broke up. Sherlock stepped over to grab them, shoes squelching from the water in them.
He looked at them with a pained expression but took them out of her hands. “Thank you, I’ll just go to the spare room and change.”
She nodded and watched him walk out of the door, closing it behind himself. When he was gone, she limped over to her cupboard and pulled out a pair of fleece pajama pants and a tank top. After putting them on she snuck a glance into her ruined bathroom.
It was a mess, shattered glass and tiles lay everywhere covered in water. She sighed and shut the bathroom door, thankful that she had a guest bath down the hall. She would worry about the room later.
She had just hobbled her way to the bedroom door when she heard a knock. Rather than answer she opened it. On the other side was a topless Sherlock wearing only the long silk pants, she took a very small moment to admire him. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him with a shirt off before, she wondered.
Whilst Molly was busy admiring Sherlock, he took a moment to do the same. She was clad in a skin-tight singlet top which hugged her small curves and left nothing hidden, and a pair of baggy flannel pink pants covered in cats. 'Your purrrfect’ the pants read. He tried not to let the grammatical errors bother him.
“Here.” He said offering his arm.
She took it and he slid it around her small waist as she rested her arm around his shoulder. He had to stoop to support her but he managed to get her over to the sofa. Sitting down she said. “Well, I guess date night is ruined.”
“Not necessarily, we can order in and watch a movie here.” Said Sherlock sitting down next to her. Stop staring! He said as his eyes glanced down at her curves again.
“That sounds nice.” Molly replied. Failing to keep her eyes of his exposed chest. “What do you feel like?”
He couldn’t stop looking at her lips. “Are you cold? You look a little blue, you lost a bit of blood.” He covered.
“I’m fine, you’re the one not wearing a shirt.” She replied. If he didn’t put something on soon she was going to be unable to stop herself from running a finger across his chest.
“What?” He said looking down. “Oh yes, well. My clothes are in the dryer it shouldn’t take long.”
“Sherlock! You can’t put those pants in the dryer! They’re dry clean only.” She said exasperated.
He shrugged in reply. “I have many pairs.”
Molly lifted her wounded foot up to cross over her other leg, but she bumped the wound in the process. Sherlock was alerted to her discomfort by the sharp intake of breath. “Are you alright? Here,” he said lifting her up and shifting her on the sofa so her legs lay over his lap. “You need to keep it elevated.”
He looked odd, she thought, and it’s not just because he’s half naked. His eyes seemed darker than usual, and he was sitting so straight she knew it couldn’t be comfortable for him. She sat up and finally let her hand dance across his chest. What are you doing? Asked a voice in the back of her mind. She ignored it.
Sherlock turned to stare at the small woman as she ran her hand across his skin. It was intimate, more intimate than they had been yet. Quickly he studied her face, he could see some reservations, like she wasn’t quite sure what she was doing. But beyond that, he could see her desire to touch him. He reached down and pulled her into his lap so she sat sideways across him. She gave him a quizzical look, in response he reached out to run his hand through her hair to settle onto the nape of her neck. She closed her eyes and leaned in to meet his waiting lips.
They had kissed before of course, but most of those kisses had been chaste, standing outside her flat, or in the darkened cinema surrounded by people. This kiss was different, deeper. With a hungry passion, their relationship had been missing. He brought up his other hand and pressed it into her back, pinning her against him. Her hands ran circles over the skin of his arms.
She broke free of his lips panting slightly. Leaning back, she had exposed her neck to him and he wondered what it would be like to kiss her there. It was an experiment he was happy to try. Molly let out a pleased hum as she worked her fingers into his damp hair.
She twisted her body trying to capture more of his exposed flesh but was restricted by the position she was in. She rested her good foot on the ground and maneuvered her other leg around until she was straddling him. Now with his whole chest exposed she could run her hands over him unrestricted as her lips met his own again.
His hands slid down her shirt coming to rest at the little strip of skin between the top and pants. He couldn’t understand how her skin felt so hot, he wanted to feel more of it but her shirt was getting in the way. So, he slid his hands up and under her the soft material. She arched her back and kissed him deeper, her tongue working across his lower lip. He couldn’t take it anymore, he wanted her, completely. Breaking their kiss, “Molly.” He said in a deep voice.
She looked into his eyes biting her Lower lip, she could see the question in them. Making sure he would understand she gave him a tiny nod.
He let out a groan and pulled her back to him, lifting her up as they still kissed. He walked them to the bedroom.
********************************
Sherlock opened his eyes as the sunlight streamed through the windows. He smiled down at the beautiful pathologist still sleeping on his chest.
She sighed against him and he knew she would wake soon. He ran his fingers lightly down her exposed back. “Morning.” She said, eyes still closed and a smile on her face.
“Morning.” He replied smiling.
There had been nothing to worry about, all the intrepid young couple needed was a few rusty pipes to get them started.
