A Darcy Thanksgiving

By lacorsetiere (formerly iyaorisha)

Timing: let's say the fall after the events in The Avengers. Manhattan has begun to recover from the Chitauri attack, but Darcy's only recently arrived so she hasn't had a chance to wreak too much damage of her own.

Pairing: Darcy Lewis/Clint Barton eventually.

Summary: Clint plays bodyguard so Darcy can travel home for Thanksgiving. Nothing involving Darcy is ever that simple.

Ratings/Warnings: Teen/PG-13 for violence, bad language, and icky injuries in the first couple chapters. Probably PG-13/mild R before it ends.

Spoilers: Major spoilery for all of the Marvelverse movies (up through Thor: The Dark World) and for the first season of the ABC show Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Really though, it's so thoroughly tainted by my own head canon that I might be forgetting something so I apologize in advance.

Feedback: Desperately seeking it! This is my first attempt at writing in this fandom. This fic was conceived while I was trying to find a cheap flight home for Thanksgiving and discovered you can fly cargo class if you don't mind giving up creature comforts. I know that I suck at making up titles, so I'm open to suggestions.

Disclaimers: I don't own anything here. I'm not making money off any of these. Just having fun.

Thanksgiving was Darcy Lewis' favorite holiday. Lots of people had family drama on Turkey Day, but it was the one special occasion that her relatives to be counted on to act like sane people. Well, as sane as could be expected from people who fought over the Tofurky Jurky Wishstix™. Still, it was a comforting insanity. Unlike the Avengers-related craziness around her. So Darcy desperately needed Thanksgiving with her family, simulated turkey bones and all. Which is why, two days before the holiday, she found herself bursting into Agent Coulson's office waving her rejected leave request form in her fist.

"No? Seriously? NO?!" She yelled. "Because I'm pretty sure that the new hire orientation packet specified Thanksgiving is a day off for non-essential S.H.I.E.L.D. civilian personnel." Darcy was bluffing because she didn't actually read the packet.

Coulson didn't look up from his stack of forms. "Ah, but you are essential personnel, Ms. Lewis. By virtue of your relationship with Dr. Foster, you are essential to her emotional health. Which is critical to her continued ability to focus on rebuilding the Bifrost. If you were abducted or…compromised, it could set her work back for the foreseeable future."

Darcy stared at the man in disbelief. Is that how he'd really see something awful happening to her? As a setback to a S.H.I.E.L.D. mission? Yeah, a little voice in her head said. The guy probably saw the 8 seconds he was dead as a temporary setback. "But…" she said.

"No buts, Ms. Lewis." Coulson interrupted. "The fine print on your contract says that you can't set foot outside the Five Boroughs without a S.H.I.E.L.D. escort." Darcy made a face because she hadn't bothered to read her contract either. At least not beyond lines that stated the salary plus major medical coverage for her new position as "primary companion to S.H.I.E.L.D. consultant Jane Foster, Ph.D."

Coulson continued. "Normally, I'd send a Level 5 agent with you, but anyone not on actual leave for the holiday will be working."

Something whizzed over Coulson's shoulder to land on his desk. Darcy yelped and took a step back before frantically scanning the back of the small room for the source of the attack. Coulson didn't flinch. "Barton. Air vent," he explained as he picked up the object. Darcy squinted at the narrow slits of the grate covering the vent. She couldn't see the master archer or figure out how he'd fit anything through the tiny openings.

"A paper dart? Are you in fourth grade." Coulson chided the air vent's occupant. Still, he unfolded the missive. Scrawled across the sheet of paper was "I'll do it".

Coulson shook his head. "No. You're on medical leave for two more weeks."

The next paper dart clipped Coulson's ear lightly. He turned to glare at the air vent. "Make that three more weeks."

This time Darcy retrieved the message, tearing the edges a little in her haste to unfold it. "No turkey. No parade. Might as well be useful." She read aloud. "Huh?"

Coulson sighed. "Barton has a broken jaw from the Avengers' last run in with the Doombots. It's wired shut for a few weeks so he can't eat solid food." There was a wistful sounding clunk from the air vent. "And Director Fury thought it an unnecessary security risk to have Avengers actually marching in the Macy's Parade." The next clunk sounded resentful.

Something that the senior agent would have vehemently denied was a smile ghosted across his lips. "He actually can talk, but no one can understand him."

"Sorry," Darcy called out. A split second later, a third paper dart landed gently in her hair. She tugged it loose and read it. "Tell him that I can go baby sit you or he can stay here to babysit both of us." She showed the note to Coulson. "Please?" She grinned mischievously at the senior agent and was rewarded with an air vent clunk that sounded a lot like laughter.

"Fine. The two of you deserve each other." Coulson made a dismissive gesture and returned to his paperwork. "Go. Make travel arrangements. Barton, keep her on a ridiculously short lease. And I expect you both to return in 72 hours without a single scratch."

Darcy blew a kiss at the air vent as she left.

Two hours later, Darcy stared at her Stark tablet in disgust. She should have guessed something was up when Coulson yielded so easily. True to his word, the senior agent immediately cleared Darcy's travel to Chicago under Barton's supervision. However, even the brief delay on the day before the busiest travel day in the U.S. meant that she had missed booking on flights that would allow a roundtrip within Coulson's 72 hour limit.

A paper dart landed skittered across the tablet. "Hey!" she exclaimed before looking up at the air vent above her sofa in Avengers Tower. She unfolded the note. "Flying coach sucks. Let's hop a StarkIndustries jet."

"I can't just borrow a jet from Tony Stark."

Another dart rained down. This one fell inside the loose neckline of her oversized Culver University t-shirt to wedge between her breasts. She scowled at the vent before fishing it out. "Yes, you can. Stark thinks you're totes adorbs."

"Great." She muttered. "I'm team mascot."

The clunk above her head was clearly amused.

Despite, Barton's assurances Darcy was too uncomfortable to ask Stark directly. But a quick call to Pepper Potts got the plane and a substitute pilot reserved for an 8 AM Wednesday flight to Chicago. The generous CEO threw in door to door car service on both ends, a full champagne breakfast on board, and what she described as "the cutest cabin crew men in the StarkIndustries air fleet". If Pepper thought Darcy's "choice" of traveling companion odd, she kept it to herself.

The same was not true of Darcy's parents. If Lida and Ben Lewis had been delighted by Darcy's news that she would indeed make it home for Thanksgiving, they were outright delirious when she asked her mom to ready the guest room because she would be accompanied by a friend. Darcy had a bit of trouble explaining to her mom that the man she was bringing home for Thanksgiving was definitely just a co-worker and not a boyfriend.

"No, Ma, he's not gay." she whispered, peering nervously at the ceiling vents. "It's um…complicated. He's uh…recovering from an accident and our boss asked me to keep an eye on him because he doesn't have a family."

If there was any subject that engrossed Darcy's mom, Lida, more than matchmaking, it was illness. Darcy spent the next five minutes recounting the Barton-approved cover story for his injuries: He worked in security at StarkIndustries (Darcy's parents knew nothing about S.H.I.E.L.D. and thought she was interning in the municipal relations office of SI's consumer products division.) Barton was injured when he interrupted and foiled the robbery of the new Starkphone prototype. He had a broken jaw, couldn't speak clearly so he'd write notes on a Stark tablet, and would need liquefied meals during his three day stay in Chicago.

The cover story must have satisfied Lida because she stopped interrogating Darcy about her unexpected guest's romantic eligibility and started asking about his food preferences. "Ma, I really don't know him that well," Darcy said in exasperation. "I'm sure he'll be fine with soup and some protein shakes. I really gotta go. Thanks, Ma. I love you and Daddy. Can't wait to see you."

At 2 AM, JARVIS woke Darcy with the news that weather forecasts for the Midwest were calling for airport closures by mid-morning. If she still wanted to make the trip, the AI could secure seats for her and Barton on a StarkIndustries cargo plane bound for Vancouver. That flight was scheduled to leave LaGuardia at 4 AM and could make a stopover in Chicago ahead of the predicted storms.

"Sounds good, but I oughta check with Barton first. Can you patch me through to his room? And put it on video."

JARVIS complied. A few seconds later, Darcy was (virtually) face to face with a bare-chested Barton. The master archer's physique wasn't as impressive as Thor's or Captain America's of course, but she still had to stiffle an instinctive wolf-whistle at the sight of his biceps, pecs, and abs.

He held up his Stark tablet on which he had written "What?"

Darcy quickly explained the weather situation and JARVIS's offer. Barton ran a hand roughly over his already sleep-rumpled hair and then gave her a thumbs up before clicking off.

It took a skipped shower and the fast suitcase packing of her life, but before sunrise, Darcy was airborne. She was thoroughly disappointed that she wouldn't get to check out the rumor that the Starkjet featured stripper poles. And flying cargo class definitely didn't include a full champagne breakfast. Or cute crew men, just two dour-faced workers in jumpsuits who accompanied the cargo.

Worse still, the cargo compartment was near freezing and so noisy that even if Barton's jaw hadn't been wired shut, she wouldn't have been able to understand a word he said. They both donned noise-cancelling earphones and then wrapped themselves scratchy, dusty smelling blankets that Barton snagged from a box at the front of the plane.

Nonetheless, beggars can't be choosers. In a couple hours, she would be home for Thanksgiving. Nothing else mattered.

Well, at least until she felt Barton tense beside her and Darcy looked up from her Stark tablet to see the younger of the jumpsuited crew men pointing a gun at them.