Darcy is furious. Her Comparative Politics professor had been an absolute asshole during class, as per usual, her partner for Social Stats bailed on their project meeting, and some frat dude playing ultimate frisbee in the quad had barreled into her and spilled her cinnamon spice mocha all over her favorite sweater.
It was a day for the bad day hall of fame and she'd been so ready for it to be over. So of course the minute she steps out of the shower, some idiot sets off the fire alarm and now she's standing outside in the brisk chill of early November, still dripping wet, in her bathrobe.
She is cold, damp, miserable, and there are at least three freshman boys trying to sneakily check her out. Even the appreciative grin that hot dance major on the third floor gave her isn't enough to perk up her spirits and she usually has silent explosions of twitterpated glee over every brief interaction with her.
Someone rests a hand on her back and she lurches forward away from the unexpected touch, swearing under her breath as her bare feet shuffle awkwardly on the cold sidewalk.
There's a soft laugh and she turns to see her kind-of boyfriend (kind-of in that they have had one actual date, many makeout sessions, and not a single conversation about things like titles but also are spending basically every free moment together.) He's grinning at her, a sheepish light in his blue eyes and a smudge of what looks like charcoal on his left cheekbone.
"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you."
She punches him in the arm before huddling in close, silently demanding he share the body heat all those ridiculous muscles put off. "Pro tip, Rogers, sneaking up on a girl is a good way to startle her."
He laughs again and obligingly wraps his arms around her, dropping a kiss on top of her hair that makes her melt a little, though she'll never admit it. "I'll keep that in mind."
She grumbles some more before resting her chin on his sternum and staring up at him. "Think you could beat someone up for me? Just a little bit? Because whatever asshole decided to reheat their pot brownies in the microwave or hang their mardi gras beads from the sprinkler or whatever stupid thing it is this time deserves punishment."
He coughs and won't meet her eyes. "What if it was an asshole trying to make a sweet treat for his girl who didn't realize his roommate turned off the oven timer?"
She stares at him, torn between anger, confusion, and growing delight.
"His girl, huh?" she finally manages to say, frustration at her terrible day fading away as she realizes that smudge on his cheek isn't from his latest piece for the art show.
He grins again, no longer bashful, and she's reminded just how damn pretty he is right before he cuts off her thoughts with an all too brief kiss. "Provided I'm her boy."
She sniffs imperiously, pretending her bones aren't half-mush. "I suppose your girl could forgive you, if she's provided with something sweet enough."
There's an answering spark of devilment in his eyes that makes her grin, reminding her why she'd first started flirting with the boy in her Con Law class last semester. She'd already liked him for the look he'd get when someone said something particularly stupid or bigoted, and his smart mouth when he took them down, but the icing on the cake had been when she'd caught him pranking his best friend by sneaking catnip into his laundry.
"He loves cats, he just doesn't know it yet," he'd confided in her, when she'd stumbled on him in the laundry room. "Me and his roommate's therapy cat are going to fix that."
"You're awesome, want to get dinner?" The words had come out of her mouth unbidden and his answering grin had almost blinded her. That encounter had led to their first date, and she's had no regrets. Including her current cold and still damp state.
The RA sounds the all clear and Darcy pushes Steve in front of her, using his bulk to bull their way through the crowd and back into the building. Once inside he takes her hand, still grinning. "Your place or mine?"
"My roommate's at her girlfriend's and the other room is still vacant, while at least one of your roommates is an asshole who turns off oven timers. Obviously my place, but you still owe me sweets."
"Yes ma'am," he salutes her and Darcy bites down on some very inappropriate thoughts. She will definitely be exploring that potential new kink with him later.
She starts down the hall, leaving him to run up the stairs to his room on the fifth floor while she decides if she wants to stay in the bathrobe, put something else on, or be wearing absolutely nothing when he gets back. She's still a little chilled so she leaves the bath robe on and gives her hair a quick towel dry before sitting down on the couch in their common space and pulling a throw over her feet.
"Come in!" Darcy yells, when she hears the knock on the door after more minutes that she expected. She's going to give Steve grief over his tardiness until she sees the two steaming mugs in his hand and smells spiced chocolate. "You are my favorite."
He laughs, pushing the door closed with his foot and coming over to sit next to her. He hands her a mug and she inhales the smell with a blissful sigh before taking a cautious sip. Her eyes slide closed and she hums with pleasure. It's rich and sweet with just the right amount of spice, clearly not some shitty packet of powder like all the cocoa in her cupboards.
"Mmmk. You're forgiven. I'm keeping you," she says, not even bothering to open her eyes as she savors the rich taste of the cocoa. Best boyfriend ever.
She almost jumps when the mug is taken out of her hand and is fully prepared to chew him out for startling her again, but then he's cupping her jaw and pulling her in for a kiss that tastes of chocolate and cinnamon and all she wants to do is see how fast she can get his shirt off.
Today's entry in the bad day hall of of fame is officially revoked.