Steve's never been jealous of Bucky for anything. Not even before the serum when he was that sickly, scrawny kid and couldn't get a woman to literally give him the time of day while Bucky had scads of women to choose from; nor was he jealous when Bucky was going off to fight in the war and he'd failed his fourth screening to get in the Army. Bucky's his best friend and he has always had Steve's back no matter what. He loves Bucky like a brother and he's never felt like taking a swing at him before.

Until now.

He's at the bar getting another round of drinks for the three of them when he sees Bucky slide up next to Darcy at the pool table and whisper something in her ear that makes her laugh. That doesn't really strike him as odd because they're friends and the three of them hang out quite a bit. But something really rubs him the wrong way when his friend slips behind Darcy and helps her line up the next shot. Steve's teeth gnash together when Bucky touches her more than is necessary and notices that Darcy seems to be enjoying it.

It's just—he likes Darcy, okay? So, so much and doesn't want to just be her friend anymore. Of course he hasn't told her that because he hasn't worked up the nerve yet. He's been trying to figure out whether she likes him too before he goes and makes things awkward and messes up their friendship. Steve would rather settle for that than nothing at all.

Bucky's sitting on the edge of the pool table now with Darcy standing right in front of him smiling and looking pretty. She places a hand on his shoulder and leans in to whisper something that puts a wicked grin on Bucky's face. Steve gets a sinking feeling in his stomach and that urge to hit Bucky square on the jaw grows stronger.

When their drinks are finally ready, he carries them back to his friends and sets them down forcefully on the table. Darcy and Bucky both startle and stare at him with matching quizzical expressions. "I'm going to take off," he tells them, grabbing his jacket off the barstool. He's not going to hang around the rest of the night watching them flirt with each other.

"What, no. Don't leave," Darcy pouts a little. "You owe me a game of pool." That gesture only sours his mood further because it makes her already amazing lips look even better and then he thinks about her kissing Bucky and—fuck he's pissed. Mostly at himself for not acting on his feelings and letting Bucky beat him to the jump.

"Seems like you and Bucky are doing just fine on your own." He shrugs into his jacket and gives them a tight smile that is completely fake. "See you later."

He's just barely out of the bar when Darcy yells his name. Steve closes his eyes and blows out a breath before halting his steps and turning around. She's tugging on her coat and hurrying after him. "Yes, Darcy?" he snaps.

Darcy ticks up an eyebrow and purses her lips. "What crawled up your ass?"

Steve doesn't appreciate her snotty tone and he folds his arms across his chest and narrows his eyes at her. "Excuse me?" he asks slowly.

"You heard me. Why did you rush out like that?"

"Because I—" he trails off.

She takes a step closer. "Because why, Steve?" she asks softly.

He swallows thickly and rubs a hand over his face, deciding he needs to—in the words of Tony Stark—nut up or shut up. "I didn't want to watch you and Bucky flirt all night. And if I stayed I might have ended up punching my best friend in the face," he finally admits. His stomach rolls and he feels like he might be sick.

Darcy looks down at her feet and he's bracing himself for whatever blow she's about to deal him. He is caught off guard when she laughs. "You're an idiot, Steve Rogers," she tells him.

"Thank you," he retorts sarcastically, frowning at her.

She shakes her head and grabs his jacket, pulling herself up on her toes to press her lips to his. It takes him a second to get his bearings, but when his brain finally catches up he wraps his arms around her waist and deepens the kiss. He can taste the whiskey on her tongue when she curls it around his and there's a hint of cherry that must be from her lip gloss. Steve pulls her closer and the little moan she makes reaches right through him and twists something inside.

He pulls back first and watches her face. She's a little out of breath and her eyes are slow to open. It wouldn't be gentlemanly to be proud of that, but he kind of is. "I want to flirt with you," she grins, slipping her hands around his waist.

His lips twitch up and he cups her face in his hands. "I want to flirt with you, too." He kisses her again, his fingers tangling in her hair when he hears a wolf whistle, sharp and piercing.

"About damn time, Rogers," Bucky shouts. Steve can't stop the grin and Darcy laughs, burying her face in his chest. "Come on, lovebirds. I want pancakes."