"Dearest friends, dear gentlemen, listen to my song. Life down here's been hard for you. Life has made you strong."

Darcy is in the communal kitchen, humming along to her music and kind-of dancing as she stirs the three large saucepans she got on the stove. Each one has the same thing in it, but she's cooking for a demi-god, a super-soldier, three master assassins, two scientists, a CEO, a man-child-genius, and her own self. That's nominally ten people. She's cooking for (roughly) twenty-four. If there are any left-overs, she will be surprised.

It had been a strange, staggered sort of progression that brought her to this point. Political Science major that needed six lousy credits to graduate, got internship. Graduated, but stayed with the boss-lady as she went all over the place (in no small part because Coulson had recognised that, apart from Erik, who was needed elsewhere, Darcy was the best person for Jane-handling). Followed the boss-lady to Tromso, then London, then back to New York where they moved into Stark Tower, aka Avengers Tower. Adopted the other science-bros (Tony and Bruce), and started forcing them to leave the lab for food and sleep and showers. When SHIELD shat HYDRA all over the place (or was that the other way around?), Pepper Potts claimed Darcy as an official Stark employee. She was doing essentially the same thing, but now for a truly epic pay-check, rather than a government salary that meant little more than her student loans were paid off and she wasn't starving or living in the streets.

In the wake of that, the rest of the Avengers (plus one) had found refuge in the Tower, and Darcy had pulled them all into her orbit (or was that, too, the other way around?). As a civilian, and one that rather obviously relied on a taser, the master assassins in the group only had to watch her prepare food for a week before they trusted her enough to not poison them if they didn't watch the cooking process.

"Let me lift the mood," Darcy continued humming as she turned the heat right down, stuck lids on the pots, and left them to simmer while she went to get pie dishes. "With my attidu~ude."

Of course, just because the master assassins trusted her not to poison them meant that they stopped watching her cook. Hell, there was just about always at least one person lounging about in the breakfast nook, watching appreciatively as Darcy shimmied and sang her way around – dinner and a show, as it were, with the show happening before, rather than during or after.

The man that Steve Rogers had brought in, vouched for, and treated like glass despite an impressive metal arm (one of the master assassins) was a regular audience member. The only reason he ever missed a show would be if something came up, or Darcy was cooking earlier in the day than usual because dinner needed more time to just simmer and take up all the flavours. The super-soldier himself joined his friend at least once a week, but he also understood that the metal-armed man needed a little space and an anchor in reality apart from himself.

One or another of the master assassins came in a couple of times a week, generally to try and steal tastes or snark about her song choices. Scientists and man-child-geniuses had to be physically dragged away from the labs when the food was being put on the table, so they never caught the show. The demi-god sometimes stayed and talked to her, but more often he went off elsewhere until called to eat. It was more or less expected though. The guy was a prince. Talking to the cooks while they worked was probably something that wasn't done where he was from.

Pepper generally made it back from the last meeting of the day just in time to sit down with everybody else. That is, if she was in the city at all.

"Hey fellas, the time is right. Get ready, tonight's the night. Boys, what you're hopin' for will come true. Let me be good to you," she cooed along with the song, and once the pie dishes were on the bench, she danced around to give her single most dedicated audience member (and currently sole spectator) a sweet smile just for him.

It must have been a good day. He smiled back.

"You tough guys, you're feelin' all alone. You rough guys, the best a you soldiers and bums, all are my chums."

Well, the singer on the track said 'sailors', but Darcy said 'soldiers' and gave Bucky a wink which, still smiling, he shakes his head at a little.

"So dream on, and drink your beer. Get cosy, your baby's here. You won't be misunderstood. Let me be good to you!"

The music built a small crescendo, and Darcy washed her hands quickly.

"Hey fellas! I'll take off all my blues!" she pulled off her apron, leaving her in just her grey leggings and thigh-length knit-dress that hugged her curves just right. Wearing her usual three-to-five defensive layers of clothing that hid her curves wasn't practical while cooking. "Hey fellas! There's nothin' I won't do, just for you!"

The smile on her one-man audience's face widened when she pointed to him at that.

There was a bit of just-instruments, during which Darcy pulled out yet another three large pots, as well as a bag of potatoes and a peeler.

"Your baby's gonna come through. Let me be good to you~!"

"And what's that one from?" Bucky asked when the song was ended.

Darcy had stopped the music before the next song could start, since she couldn't very well dance and peel potatoes at the same time.

"Basil the Great Mouse Detective," Darcy answered promptly. "It's on the 'forgotten songs' playlist on my ipod. The whole movie is just about forgotten in general. Not quite the hit it could have been. I had to modify the sound-file myself to get what I've got."

"You've had to do that for just about every song on that playlist though, haven't you?" he checked.

"Most of them, yeah," she agreed.

Bucky promised to look the movie up after dinner. Darcy countered by having JARVIS pull it up on a small screen on the kitchen counter so that Bucky could watch it while she peeled potatoes.

They got all the potatoes peeled by about the time Basil was escaping from Rattigan's over-complicated 'mouse trap'. Darcy ran them all under the tap to get off any lingering dirt, then it was chopping before putting all the spuds in the pots to boil before they'd be mashed. The second part of the job went quicker, and the end-credits were rolling as Darcy shifted the pots onto the heat.

While she was there, she lifted the lids on the three that were already simmering (one at a time of course) and tested how each one was coming along flavour-wise.

"Wow that smells good," Bucky sighed, breathing deeply as he relished the aromas. "What exactly are you making us?"

"Ma always called it pot-pie," Darcy answered with a shrug. "Not sure what kind of debate a title like that will spark around the table when there's not going to be any crust, but that's what Ma called it."

"Family recipe then?"

"Kinda, but at the same time not," Darcy admitted with a shrug and a shake of her head. "It's a 'gazinta'. Everything 'gazinta' it."

Bucky chuckled.

Score!

"Sure there are basics," Darcy continued. "The mince is the ultimate must-have, apart from the potato that goes on top. Tomato paste, tomato sauce, ketchup... hell, I remember once Ma had a half-tin of tomato soup lying around and in it went to add flavour to the sauce. Onions, or onion soup powder, or onion flakes, doesn't matter which really. Bacon is always a bonus. Then whatever vegetables, fresh, frozen, doesn't really matter. Just as long as they're cut up small. Only reason people should need a knife to eat it is to help scrape up the last bit onto the fork. Let the lot simmer in its own flavours for however long, put it in the pans, spread the mash over the top, brush extra butter or a beaten egg over that, then put it in the oven."

Bucky frowned. "Why egg?"

"Helps the potato go golden and crunchy," Darcy explained with a smile. "So does extra butter. No milk when mashing the potatoes for this," she asserted firmly.

The apron went back on before the meat was poured into the butter-greased pie dishes, and Bucky watched, entertained in a different way, as Darcy used a fork to make scratchy pictures in the top of the potato. She explained that if the potato was smooth, it wouldn't have any crunchy bits no matter what, and the crunchy bits were the best, and why shouldn't she be artistic about it?

The pot-pie, when it was done and golden and served and being eaten with appreciative moans and polite but eager requests for more... Bucky would swear that it tasted like comfort.

~oOo~

"Honey, you're a sweet thing, a~and you look so fine."

She wasn't in the kitchen at all. There were five large crock-pots (well, that's what Darcy called them, anyway), lined up along the bench, their contents slowly bubbling away. Judging by the smells and consistency of the contents, Bucky guessed that Darcy had probably set the five pots of stew to a slow, all-day simmer not long after breakfast.

But there was the sound of her singing tickling his hearing still. He followed the sounds of the music through the dining room to an area designated by Tony as the 'party floor'. Bucky hadn't ever gone there, not being particularly sociable any more. Or wholly safe to have in a social situation that was more involved that sitting down to a meal with the rest of the team.

But there was Darcy, hair completely free, her ipod plugged into the sound-system... and slowly shedding her layers of clothing as she swayed to the music that was playing.

"A~all I ever wante~d is to make you mine. Give me~e a clue~, tell me what I need to do to get lucky with you."

Her eyes were closed, and the way she was moving was... strangely familiar to him. His memories were an honest mess, but some things just needed a little trigger and he'd remember them. Some things hurt to remember, some things he didn't want to remember, and some things he probably never would, but this... pinged something.

"Boy, I really love you! With my heart and soul! Honey won't you take me~e where I want to go? Give me~e a clue~, tell me what I need to do to get lucky with you."

The way her arm had stretched out, then curled back as she spun around snapped it into place. She was dancing the way Bucky Barnes had taken dolls and dames dancing back in the day, before he'd been drafted. He wondered all of a sudden if his feet would remember how the steps went, if he slipped into the room properly, took her hand in his, and tried to lead.

"Gettin' lucky, mm~ gettin' lucky is really what it's all a~ba~out. Gettin' lucky, mm~ gettin' Bucky. It's somethin' I can't do withou~out!"

No, wait, he'd misheard that. He definitely misheard that. The voices of the singers that were being amplified through the sound-system had said 'lucky', but Darcy had definitely said 'Bucky' that last time. She hadn't seen him. Every time she faced him, her eyes were closed. Any time she faced a mirror that would give him a view of her face – and therefore, give her a view of him – her eyes were closed.

She had no idea he was watching. Listening. Had heard that.

"Honey, I've been waitin', waitin' patiently. Let me unlock your heart boy~, I think I got the key. Give me~e a clue~, tell me what I need to do to get lucky with you."

He slipped fully into the room, silently. He didn't want to be heard over her music until he had his arms around her waist.

"Oho~o give me~e a clue~, tell me what I ne~ed to do to get lucky with you. Oho~o give me~e a clue~, tell me what I need to do to get lucky with you. Give me~e a clue~, won't cha tell me what I need to do to get lucky with you. Oh honey, honey, give me~ a clue~, tell me what I need to do to get lucky with you."

"That works," Bucky whispered in Darcy's ear as he slipped his hands into place on her person, one at the waist, the other claiming one of her dainty hands.

"Eep!"

"But you know, the kind of dancing I think you were going for there? That works better with a dance partner," he offered.

Appreciate the Lady from the Fox and the Hound was next on Darcy's playlist, and while it wasn't a long song, it was enough for Bucky to start Darcy swaying in his arms. It was a dramatic contrast to what had come immediately before, but a soothing change.

"You really can dance," Darcy noted softly, a faint blush on her cheeks as she peeked up at him from within his hold.

"Taught Steve, even," Bucky answered with a smile. Then he frowned. "I don't remember doing that though. I know that I did, because I can remember once ribbing him that I didn't teach him how to dance just for him to never go dancing, but I don't remember actually teaching him."

The song changed.

If just one person believes in you, deep enough and strong enough, believes in you, hard enough and long enough, before you knew it someone else will think, if he can do it, I can to it...

Bucky chuckled and shook his head.

"Where do you get these songs?" he asked with a slightly rueful smile. "They're not the latest pop drivel, I know that from what I hear playing from the speakers any time I so much as wander near a shop."

"They're all on the 'forgotten' playlist," Darcy admitted easily. "Full of songs that generally get overlooked in favour of others, or forgotten about altogether. Just the good ones though. This one is from the movie Snoopy the Musical, which most people haven't actually seen in the first place."

They swayed until the next song started.

My name is James, that's what Mother called me. My name is James, so it's always been. Sometimes I forget, when I'm lonely or afraid, then I go inside my head, and look for James.

Bucky tensed in Darcy's arms.

James Buchanan 'Bucky' Barnes, she recalled suddenly. James. He'd forgotten himself.

"James, James, James, how are ya?" Darcy sang along when the song got to that bit, and she held him a little tighter. "Isn't it a lovely day? James, James, James, we're so glad you came here where we are, from so very, very, very far..."

Bucky's head sank down to Darcy's shoulder. My name -

"- is James," he hummed lowly. "James. James."

Darcy gave him another squeeze.

"These songs aren't very long," Bucky said, his voice a soft rasp by her ear, "but they seem to pack a lot of punch for that."

"Some of them, yeah," Darcy agreed. "Sorry, I forgot I had that song on the list."

"It's okay. Could we have something a bit more cheerful now though?" he requested. "This one seems a bit depressing."

The song that had come on next was I'll Try from the sequel-movie Return to Neverland.

"Sure," Darcy agreed with a nod. "You might have to let go of me so I can fiddle with my ipod though. Any requests? You've heard a lot of my music since you came to live here."

"... Maybe we should move out of the Disney options," he suggested as he slowly, oh so slowly, lowered his arms from around her. "Let me be good to you might be good, but I think it's on this playlist, yeah? We might get back to this point again."

"Haven't played that one for a while," Darcy said, surprised.

Bucky shrugged. He'd gotten JARVIS to add the song to his own music collection after that dinner, so while Darcy hadn't played it for a couple of months, he'd had it playing over the sound system in his suite while he was in the shower that morning.

"We watched the movie it was in, and then it was chased up with your pot-pie," he defended, not admitting anything near the full truth. "It stuck."

Darcy gave an understanding (but still suspicious) hum as she nodded and turned back to her lists.

"You want something from your era maybe?" Darcy offered as she moved quickly to scroll through the options while the next song (Tell Me Lies from Cats Don't Dance) started. "I've got some Edith Piaf -"

"I asked for something cheerful, Doll," Bucky cut her off with an amused snort and a wry cant to his lips. "She ain't that, and neither are most war songs, not really. Tunes might be upbeat for some of them, but the words, not quite so much."

Darcy nodded in understanding and switched to her 'confidence' playlist. While the intro to the first song played, she crossed back to her dance partner.

"You ready?" she asked, even as the artist on the first called out the same thing.

Let's go! Yeah. For those of you that wanna know what we're all about, it's like this, yo! This is ten percent luck, twenty percent skill, fifteen percent concentrated power of will, five percent pleasure, fifty percent pain, and a hundred percent reason to remember the name.

Bucky laughed.

Dancing like he knew how, to what was essentially a rap, was not easy. They managed though, and had a lot of fun along the way. It was easier for the next song, Tom Jones' She's a Lady.

"If the first one was about me, this one's about you," Bucky asserted with a charmingly crooked smile as he spun her out.

"Oh yeah?" Darcy said with a naughty little smile of her own to answer, and plastered herself to his front when he spun her back in.

"Yeah," Bucky affirmed, and bent his head slowly down, giving Darcy plenty of time to back away if she wanted (though, his mind prompted him, considering the song he'd walked in on, and the little slip she'd made during it...).

Well, she stretched up onto her toes to meet him half-way and make sure he didn't hurt his neck.

~The End~