Darcy loves New York City. She loves the lights, the noise, the crowds, museums, theaters, parks, restaurants, the fact that you can get delivery day or night, the history, the architecture, and even the weirdos she inevitably encounters on the subway. There isn't anything quite like New York City during the holidays, and she loves every second of the Big Apple in the autumn when the leaves bloom in all their vibrant, colorful glory and there is a chill in the air.

The only downside to living in New York City aside from the cost of living – heat waves. Damn it all, she hates heat waves with a fiery passion, and the concrete jungle is currently in the middle of one of the hottest summers on record.

She adjusts the straps of her camera bag and purse on her shoulder, feeling more beads of sweat slick down her back and between her boobs, making her t-shirt stick uncomfortably to her skin. Rounding the corner onto her street, she almost cries in relief when she sees her building. Darcy can practically hear the sweet, sweet siren song of air conditioning calling her name. Her phone rings and she grumbles before fishing it out of her pocket, her mood improving marginally when she sees Jane's name and face on the display.

"'Sup, genius?" Darcy greets. "Taking a break from science already? It's barely 4:00."

"It's too hot to think," Jane answers.

"Pfft. You work at Stark and it's probably a crisp 68 degrees inside. I don't want to hear it."

"I went out for food and I thought my insides were going to combust. I'm waiting on my body to regulate," Jane whines.

"Look, pal, I've been hoofing it for twenty blocks and I have sweat everydamnwhere. I most definitely win the 'who is more miserable in the heat' contest." Darcy starts up the steps to her building and notices that the front door is wide open. "Great," she mumbles. "Some dillhole left the front door open letting God knows who into my building. I hate this fucking city!"

Jane snorts. "No, you don't. I had to talk you out of getting the 'I heart NY' tattoo, remember?"

"Ugh, why do my drunken decisions always come back to haunt me? And anyway, I motherfucking do hate this city today," she argues, trudging up the stairs towards her apartment.

"Speaking of drunk, do you want to go out tonight?" Jane asks.

"Are you high, Jane?" Darcy yelps, rolling her eyes even though her friend can't see. She fumbles through her purse until her fingers make purchase with her keys. "It's hotter than Satan's taint outside and the only thing I want to do is strip every last sweaty piece of clothing off of my body and lay buck ass naked directly in front of the AC vent with a cold beer in hand." Someone behind her laughs and her hand freezes on the doorknob. Darcy glances over her shoulder and sees two of the hottest men she's ever seen in her whole entire life – and she's met Thor for Christ's sake – and a little part of her wants to die because she knows without a doubt her makeup has long since sweated off and she looks terrible. Her face flushes even hotter and she manages a half-hearted "Let me call you back" before she ends the call. She could very easily just duck into her apartment and meet the new neighbors later after she's showered and is wearing makeup again. But she's no coward and she really should try and scope out these guys to see if they're total freak shows or what. She turns slowly and folds her arms across her chest, mostly to cover up the sweat marks on her shirt.

"You paint quite the vivid picture," the dark-haired man grins.

The taller blond behind him looks a little embarrassed, if the blush blooming on his cheeks is any indication, but it's fucking cute regardless. Darcy pushes her sunglasses to the top of her head and quirks up an eyebrow at both of them. Part of her wishes she could just stare at both men for a while because they are ridiculously attractive, but that would be creepy. The dark-haired man is smirking at her and she's sure that look has raked in a ton of ass over the years. "Yeah. You should hear my limericks," she deadpans. "I really get creative around St. Paddy's Day." He laughs again and she sees the corner of the other man's mouth tick up.

"You've got quite the neighbor, Steve," the man says, elbowing his friend in the ribs. "I'm James, by the way. My friends call me Bucky." He reaches his hand out to shake hers and winks.

Darcy takes his proffered hand and smirks back. "James."

"That hurts, doll," Bucky teases.

"You'll survive, I'm sure," Darcy counters drily. She looks to the taller man – Steve – and smiles politely. "So, you're my new neighbor?"

Steve nods and steps forward, offering her his hand. "Steve Rogers, ma'am."

"Ma'am?" Darcy snorts, taking his hand and shaking it. "Oh, honey, no. That makes me feel ninety. Darcy is fine." He is positively adorable the way he bashfully looks down at his shoes, still holding her hand, color flushing over his face again.

He clears his throat and meets her eyes, a soft smile playing over his lips. "Sorry. It's nice to meet you, Darcy…?"

"Lewis. It's nice to meet you, too, Steve Rogers." She laughs a little and gently pulls her hand away.

"And what about me?" Bucky asks, a knowing smirk on his face.

Darcy jerks her head in his direction. "Well, Ace, unlike you, Steve here hasn't spent the last five minutes staring at my tits."

Steve chokes a little and starts to cough, whereas Bucky just chuckles and holds up his hands with a completely rakish grin on his handsome face. "Guilty. I'm sorry. They're just…really great," he sighs reverently, chancing one more look at her chest before pasting on his best smile and meeting her eyes.

Darcy shrugs, not the least bit offended. "I know. I'm just busting your balls, guy. Anyway, I'm gonna go—"

"Get naked," Bucky supplies with an approving nod.

"I've had enough of you," Darcy clips, jabbing a finger at him. "You," she points to Steve and she kind of wants to laugh at the owlish look on his face. "Welcome to the neighborhood."

Steve lifts a hand and manages to spit out, "Thanks!" She grins and slips into her apartment, winking at Steve before closing the door.

Darcy leans back against her door, unable to stop the stupid smile that stretches across her lips. "Well, well, well," she mutters before dropping her bags and peeling off her shirt, sighing in relief as the air conditioning works its magic. She picks up her phone and fires off a quick text to Jane. OMG U will not believe how HOT my new neighbor is!

…

Bucky follows Steve into the apartment and blows out a low whistle. "I'm so jealous of you right now. Please let me live here!"

Steve shakes his head and grins. "You are such a shameless jerk sometimes." His dog, Sarge, a three year old Border Collie barks his welcome and scrambles as fast as his legs will carry him across the hardwood floors to jump on Steve. "Hi, boy," he greets, giving him a hearty stroke of the fur on his black and white head. "Down," he orders, snapping his fingers. Sarge obeys and runs off toward his dog bed under the window.

"Don't tell me you didn't notice how gorgeous that dame is, Rogers. If you say no, you're a damn liar."

"I noticed," Steve answers, grabbing two bottles of water from the refrigerator and tossing one to his friend. Boy, had he ever noticed all that dark hair, those big blue eyes, full lips, and curves for days. "I'm smart enough not to get caught."

Bucky twists the cap off and drains half the bottle. "I couldn't help it. I just want to rest my head on those magnificent puppies. Christ Almighty."

Steve rolls his eyes, but laughs at his friend anyway. "Yes, I'm sure that's all you'd like to do."

"If you're smart, you'll make a move on that girl," Bucky informs him.

"C'mon, Bucky, I don't even know anything about her. A girl that pretty probably already has a boyfriend."

"Blah, blah, blah. I'm just hearing excuses. She's completely your type – brunette and curvy." He glances down at his phone and reads a new text message. "Hey, Steve, can I be released from move-in duty? Tasha's back from a mission and is requesting my services," Bucky says, wagging his brows.

"Requesting or ordering?" Steve laughs, knowing that Natasha Romanoff rarely asks for anything nicely.

"Ordering. Makes it even hotter. Gotta run, Cap."

Steve chuckles, shaking his head in amusement. "Sure thing – beat it, pal. Thanks for your help today."

"Anytime. Enjoy your new digs and that beautiful neighbor with the huge—"

"Bucky…" Steve warns.

Laughing, he flicks Steve a quick salute and hurries out the door.

Steve drinks the rest of his water and pours some food in a bowl for Sarge. The dog comes running and pants appreciatively at Steve's feet, thumping his tail on the floor the same way he has every day for the last three years. "There you go, Sarge." He reaches down and scratches Sarge behind the ears. "Welcome to your new home, buddy." The dog licks Steve's hand once and then proceeds to inhale his food.

He looks around his apartment and feels the corners of his mouth upturn. It feels good to be in a new space – his space. His and his alone, away from the prying eyes of SHIELD and the apartment they'd set up for him when he first rejoined the world. Steve knows he'll never be fully free of SHIELD, but this new place at least gives him a semblance of freedom.

Grabbing his sketch book, he sits down on his brand new couch and starts a rough outline of a pretty brunette with humor in her eyes and full lips twisted into a smirk.