((Shamelessly borne of some Tumblr prompting/queries over on Ophelie's blog. The basic premise is swiped from one of my favorite Star Trek: Voyager episodes. I thought it would provide a lovely stage for fluffy angst. Cause that's just what I do. I make you feel like dying with a smile on your face! I also thank the Skarsgards elder and younger for their excellent inspiration *cough*))
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Never Recite The Latin
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It started with books. Darcy knew they'd be the end of her one day, though this was certainly new. "Doesn't it weird anyone else out, that Loki just happened to leave this stash on Earth?" She asked aloud, running her hands over the spines of ancient tomes in their stout wooden box. From across the otherwise empty lab, Erik Selvig looked up, squinting at her as she drew out the least-heavy looking one at random, "I mean, Thor said these were all with him up in Asgard, like, two years ago, right? Way too convenient that we trip over them suddenly in Munic."
"Exactly," Erik pointed out, "Which is why Jane wants us to wait until Thor arrives before poking around in them." Darcy sighed dramatically, shaking her head.
"Erik, Erik, Erik, you really expect me to pass up on a pretty book?" She waggled her brows over her glasses, and the physicist threw up his hands.
"Don't come crying to me when your head's enslaved," He quipped. "It's not as glamorous as it looks on the television, I can promised you." Darcy yawned, shaking her head, flipping through a few pages of engravings and paintings.
"It's not like I can read it anyway, pretty sure it's in Swedish," She glanced up, grinning again, "So really, -you're- the one who shouldn't be poking..." She flipped a few more pages, coming to one that was entirely blank, but for a single line of script. Squinting, Darcy gave a shot at sounding it out.
"What did I -just- say, Darcy?"
"I've seen every horror movie, Selvig, it's only bad to recite -Latin- outloud," She tried again, her horrible accent causing the poor man to cringe.
"Loki doesn't work in Latin, though."
"And I don't speak Swedish, so we're good!" She maintained, trying the sentence one last time. Apparently her accent hadn't been the worst that time, as she suddenly felt a sharp pain in the back of her head, just before blacking out. Darcy hated when Erik was right...
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The muttered curse behind her broke Darcy Selvig out of her thoughts, a hand pressed to her brow as a flash of a headache came and passed. Setting aside the stack of picture frames, she turned, shaking her head free of cobwebs, as her husband set down another packing box. Erik winced as he straightened again, rubbing his back, "You should be leaving those for Thor and Steven, you stubborn ol' Viking." She piled her hair, with its liberal amount of gray, up onto her head, pinning it in place with a pencil from an open box...
"I am old," Erik sighed, as she approached, taking both his hands in hers, "Too old to be moving again, anyway."
"Well it's a good thing we'll be in this City for a long time, then," She kissed his cheek, "And we're both old. But that brilliant head of yours is working just fine, so let the young idiots do the heavy lifting."
"Right, as always...except that Thor is much older than me." The scientist chuckles, as heavy footsteps thump down the hall outside of their new, New York City apartment. Darcy winks, giving his shoulders a rub before returning to her box of pictures and photo albums.
"Coulda fooled me. Boss 'em around instead of trying to keep up, hun." She told him, as Steve Rogers hauled in another two boxes stacked atop each other, marked with china and pots and pans.
"These go in the kitchen, mom?" Darcy nodded, pointing her son-in-law toward the far room.
"Just leave 'em Steven, I'll go through those next..." She plucked up one of their framed wedding pictures, grinning at her dated dress and Erik's rumpled shirt, "See, now, you don't look -that- much older..." She joked, turning...aaaand he was gone, back to fetch more boxes. "Oh hell," She hurried to lean out the window, calling down to the moving van parked on the street, "THOR STOP HIM BEFORE HE BREAKS HIS BACK!"
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She pressed her palms into her eye, as yet another flare of her headache came and went. "Darcy?" Jane's wavering voice snapped her out of it, and she turned, looking the young woman over. Putting on a smile, Darcy opened her arms, stepping toward her in their small lab in Tromso, and the scientist hurried into her embrace. The tv droned on around them, but that one blurry shot of Erik on top of Stark Tower had been enough to leave both women as emotional wrecks.
"Thor's back, and he can handle it, like he handled his brother the last time." Darcy says firmly, both for Jane's sake and her own, swallowing hard as she hugged tight the girl who'd been like a second daughter to her for so long.
"Beth's there too," Jane whispers, as if Darcy needed the reminder that her only actual child was also toughing it out in the Big Apple today. There'd been one frantic text about something happening over Stark Tower, and then nothing more. "...How do you stand it?"
"Cause we have to," She sucks in a breath, stepping back, "And because the fact that they so very conveniently moved us and our research out here, without telling us about Erik or Thor, while the manly men fight off the nut, pisses me off. And that helps with the knot in my stomach," Darcy manages a grin, "So get good and pissed off, Janey, it's way more productive." As they spoke, though, the screens started showing giant leviathans in the sky, and the outlook was getting grim.
"...Well," Darcy went to her desk drawer, drawing out a veil-wrapped book, "Let's hedge our bets while we're being pissed," Jane nodded, drying her eyes and sitting on the floor, Darcy putting on her veil and setting her prayer book between them. Jane's lips did quirk a little, tilting her head.
"...You don't think Erik would have something to say, about you praying -for- him?"
"Pfft, that grumpy ol' Atheist I married can suck it," Darcy grinned right back, and the two of them began reciting.
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"Mama!" Elizabeth Selvig was holding up the picture she'd just finished, beaming with all the pride and self-possession of a carefree five year old. Darcy looked down, drawing her hands away from her aching temples and beaming wide. For her age, the picture of the family cat really was quite good. Beth might not be showing an aptitude for numbers, at least not yet, but the girl was clearly a born artist.
"It's -wonderful-, gorgeous girl," She exclaimed, grandly sticking it to the kitchen fridge with magnetic quantum theories (like magnetic poetry, only more boring, Darcy had noted). "How about that hot chocolate now, eh?"
Outside the snow is piling up, uncommon for their area of Virginia, but welcomed and cozy. Erik, and Johnathan Foster, are by the crackling hearth having a lively discussion over university politics. Darcy had drifted away once they'd left the science department behind and got into the Culver gossip mill. Honestly, sometimes they were worse than the female faculty Darcy found herself having to put on a smile and play nice with. When Beth brought her father his cocoa, though, the man's whole face brightened, and it started up a soft warmth in Darcy's chest. "Hey, sugar-plum," He grinned, tugging her into his lap. John chuckled.
"I'd have brought Jane over, but she's buried in homework. Fifth grade is a bit more than she was expecting."
"Oi, it's a shame they've got to grow up," Erik ruffled his daughter's blonde hair, and Darcy moved to his side, wrapping both arms around his neck and kissing his cheek.
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She tries to remind herself, as another jolt of pain goes through her, from her head to her toes, that they really had wanted this for a long time. They'd tried and tried, forgone dignity in the face of multiple tests, to make this baby. And now Darcy just had to...get her out. "JESUS FUCKING CHRIST YOU SAID YOU GAVE ME DRUGS!" She shouts at the poor male nurse by her head, who stares into her eyes as if she's possessed.
"G-give them a few more minutes, Mrs. Selvig..."
"Ha, rookie," The doctor smirks, snapping on her gloves, "Hang in there Darcy, we're almost ready for you to push..."
"Erik, where's Erik?!" Darcy swallows, looking around, grasping at the sheets.
"I'm back, I'm back!" He's hurrying to her side, the restroom door slamming behind him as he's tucking his shirt back in haphazardly. Darcy wonders why it's surprising her, how young he looks, leaner, his face smoother, no gray in his thick hair... 'Of course there's no fucking gray in his hair, Darcy, he's barely thirty-five!' The drugs must finally be kicking in, she thinks, taking his hand tightly in hers.
"I'm scared," She admits in a whisper, wide-eyes meeting his, which look just as terrified. But he grins, shakily, reaching up and pushing her hair back from her face.
"You'll conquer this like you do everything, you beautiful, brilliant lady, you. Trust me, I'm the Viking." He kisses her, right before the next contraction hits, like a ton of bricks.
"All right Darcy, we're gonna need you to start pushing!"
And it's the worst pain she's ever felt in her life, but sure enough, a little while later, with her baby girl tucked into her arm, not only is Darcy madly in love, but she feels like a goddamn warrior. "Hail me!" She cries weakly, putting a fist in the air. Erik laughs, and it's the best sound in the world.
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"Well, what if I asked you to marry me?" Darcy pauses, mid-way through writing out her equations on the blackboard. She turns, brows up, eying Erik Selvig up and down as he stands in the doorway of her classroom. It's hard, but she does manage not to let on, just how much the tall, handsome jerk and his stupid wonderful accent still makes her weak in the knees. Especially when he's got that look on his face, both hopeful and miserable at once.
"...We broke up three months ago, Erik," She reminds him, reaching into the purse on her desk for her bottle of tylenol, because staring at numbers all day was maybe harder on her head than she thought it had been, "You haven't said a word to me in weeks. And now you're proposing...to propose?"
"Don't say no yet," He suddenly blurts out, taking the room in a few strides, stopping just in front of her, his hands reaching toward her, before stopping himself. Darcy can't help it, what he's stirring in her again, especially this close, in his suit that, at almost thirty, still makes him look like a little boy wearing his dad's clothes, his clear blue eyes looking almost desperate, "I was an idiot, I know that, and I know you want...deserve...someone more, more passionate, more interesting, more sure of what he wants. But I am sure that I want you, Darcy Lewis." He swallows, nervously, but his voice is firm, "And you had to know that, before...before you say no and I never have another chance."
"Damnit, Erik," Darcy finds herself groaning in defeat, grabbing him by the lapels and yanking him down for a kiss. She's missed kissing him, missed it so much, missed the way he slowly wraps his arms around her. And yes he might always be absent-minded and eaten up with his work, and yes she might always embarrass him at parties with her crass humor. But he's hers, has been since that day she bowled into him on campus almost ten years ago, and nothing will stop that force, "...All right, Viking. Let's get hitched."
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Fleetwood Mac is really growing on her, Darcy thinks, as the hazy strands of Songbird float up from her record player and through her tiny dorm room at Culver. In fact, it might be helping her headache. She turns, resting her head against the window frame as Erik runs his fingers over the books on her shelf, looking good enough to sink her teeth into in just his jeans. She's just in her long camisole and underwear herself, her long hair brushing her hips, and she's really, really glad her roommate is back home for the weekend. Because being domestic like this with her boyfriend is fun. "You're taking religious studies?" He raises a blonde brow, that accent just so thick and delicious. Darcy nods, grinning.
"I'm Jewish myself, but I figured I'd get myself some knowledge on the rest," She shrugs, pushing off the sill and flopping onto her bed, "My parents were pretty rigid about it too, growing up. So having them pay for it is an added bonus." Erik gives her that boyish grin of his, tilting his head.
"And you still want to take me home to meet them?" He leans over, bracing himself on his elbows on either side of her head. His teeth dig into his bottom lip, and it makes her stomach flop, in the very best way.
"My big Atheist Swede of a boyfriend? Hell yes," She laughs, wrapping her legs around his waist, murmuring "Don't worry, I won't let dad get out the rifle," Right before tugging him down to kiss her. After a while of his hands sliding over her skin, her hips rolling up into his, he grins again at her little gasp, pulling back.
"I do not fear guns, for I am a Viking."
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"Oh my god, you CANNOT be serious!" Darcy throws up her hands, feeling a sharp pain developing somewhere between her brows. And she's more than willing to pin the blame on this IDIOT in her focus group. Sure, she'd thought he was pretty cute, maybe a little pitiable even, when they first ran into each other a couple of weeks ago. But now he's arguing her theory, and that, that is just NOT cool. "This equation is sound, you know it is!" She points sharply at her board.
"No, it's...what is word?" He huffs in frustration, finally just picking up a piece of chalk and adding a different fraction to her equation. Darcy blinks, her face freezing in an expression of annoyance as she realizes that he's just corrected her work. Correctly. And then she just shuts her eyes tightly.
"...Damnit, you effing ...Viking," She sighs, for lack of anything else to call him. Erik Selvig just grins, though.
"So, about dinner?"
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"Ow!" Darcy had been so busy looking down at her hastily scribbled map of the Culver University campus, she hadn't noticed the tall, young, fellow student in front of her, until her head collided with the corner of his physics textbook. She staggered, and his hand shot out to catch her elbow. Flipping her carefully ironed, Ali MacGraw hair out of her eyes, Darcy is met with tall, blonde and, when he opens his mouth, definitely Swedish.
"I'm so sorry!" He stammers, but Darcy's too busy grinning, and when he finally looks her in the eye, he is too, blinking in almost surprise. "...Hello."
"Uh, hi," Darcy straightens, clearing her throat, "And don't, that was definitely my fault...uh, are you heading to the physics department? Cause I am completely lost, man." She nods to his books, and the guy nods back, still grinning that goofy grin that just makes Darcy want to keep grinning back. Smitten on her first day at college, this didn't bode well at all.
"Yes, please, come with," And oh, that accent. It was wonderful. "I'm Erik, Erik Selvig."
"Darcy Lewis..."
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Darcy groaned, as she came back to herself, screwing up her face in protest to the waking world. "Ow," She croaked, "I tell you what, ow." Her head was KILLING her, though distantly, she could tell that little else felt wrong. Except...Darcy started, looking around the infirmary room wildly, expecting to see Erik, Beth, Steve...Jane. Jane -was- there, sitting up and hurrying to her side, taking her hand. And then everything fell into place, where she was, when she was, and there was a hollow feeling in her chest.
"Darcy? How do you feel? Erik said you just went out cold, what happened?" Jane was asking, and Darcy opened her mouth, realizing she should probably be answering right about now. It hadn't been real. None of it had been real, even though she'd felt it, felt everything, and every second of it had happened in front of her eyes.
Only it hadn't, not really. She shut her eyes hard.
"Um, where's the book...?"
"Erik says it turned into dust in your hands, right after you read from it," Jane tells her, and Darcy nods, pushing out a long breath. "I hope you've learned your lesson about not touching the relics."
"Have I ever...And yeah, that's good, it pretty much just made me pass out and my head hurts like fuck," She puts on a weary grin, and though Jane eyes her closely for a minute, it's with an answering smile, which is more than a little relieved around the edges. "...How long was I out?"
"A little over two days," Jane hands her a glass of water and three Tylenol, all of which Darcy downs like a pro. "You slept like the dead, but it wasn't a coma...and you were putting out some crazy brain waves. Dream about anything?" Darcy licks her lips, slowly bringing her cup of water up to her mouth for another long drink.
"...Not really."
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Thor finally returns from an assignment a few days later to inspect the book collection, and praises Darcy on picking the least lethal of the tomes to mess with. Darcy can't help grinning over that one. Yep, she sure was lucky that way, or something. By then medical has her cleared to return to the labs, and she does, while trying not to let it show on the outside, how bereft and subdued she feels on the inside.
She's not sure why she's not at least telling Jane the truth, of all people. But how do you tell your best friend that, anyway? That you lived an entire life in two days, backwards? Darcy tries, though, to push it all to the back of her mind, to not...mourn something, that had never really happened. Because physically she's fine, and she doesn't want anyone making any more fuss.
It's difficult.
But then, on her first day back at work, she finds herself alone, updating the filing system (that had somehow managed to go to complete shit in her short absence), when Erik pops in. Darcy gives him a wave, "Come to get your I-told-you-so's in, buddy?" She grins, and maybe it's easy to see him as the same guy from before, at least like this, in the lab, looking distracted as always. Maybe.
"No, just an I'm-glad-you're-better," He smiles warmly, his accent back to its long-faded state. "And...I can't seem to find my glasses," He admits, sheepishly. Darcy just laughs, standing and plucking them up from Jane's desk. She presents them to him with a flourish, and the poor man sighs, taking them gratefully.
"I swear, my mind's going on me, Darcy," He shakes his head, "I'm getting old, without you girls I'd be hopeless." After only a moments hesitation, she rests a hand on his, narrowing her eyes.
"Bite your tongue, y'Viking," She grins, "You're not old, you're just too brilliant for such mundane shit as where you left your glasses, let us young idiots mind that." He laughs, long and loud.
"Ha! That knock to the head finally give you some respect for your elders?"
"...Something like that..."
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