Darcy's pretty proud of the packet she's put together for Steve - she used JARVIS and the threat of Pepper's wrath to get all the information that she couldn't wheedle out of Maria, who was surprisingly forthcoming, so there's literally a metric fuckton of information for him to go through.

Maria had given her a pretty intense eyebrow look when she'd asked for everything that could be found on cult deprogrammers who could be trusted with Captain America's almost-wristwatch partner, but then she'd smiled the tiniest bit and accepted the fancy coffee Darcy had run all the way out to the cute little coffee shop on the corner to get, instead of being both lazy and cheap and going for Starbucks-

Focus, Lewis, she reminds herself, adjusting the thick strap of her watch before knocking on Steve's door. She's never been in his apartment - she basically lives in Tony and Pepper's, much to her annoyance, and Thor and Jane pretty much just keep the couch made up as a bed for her, because she never seems to get quite as far as her own little box room (she says box room, it's actually huge compared to any apartment she's lived in since moving out of Grammy's), all the way down on the very bottom residential floor of the Penis Tower. Hell, she's been in Nat and Clint's place a couple of times, and even in Bruce's, but never in Steve's.

Which, she is not too scared to admit within the safety of her own head, is because she's a big baby who doesn't want to risk being rejected.

Steve clearly thought that he was being summoned for some sort of global emergency, because when he just about restrains himself from tearing the door off the hinges, leaving Darcy eye-to-nipple with his upsettingly perfect chest, he's naked except for a small white towel. Fully naked, without even his wriststraps or his bands or anything to cover any of his Marks.

She looks away, because that's what you do unless you're Thor, and then looks away, because no matter how tiny that towel is or how clearly the name Steve is written on the inside of her left wrist, she isn't a pervert. Much.

"I found some stuff that might help your friend," she says, holding out the folder, risking a glance upwards to find him blushing, which is ten kinds of adorable. "Sergeant Barnes, I mean. Figured a different approach couldn't hurt, right?"

Steve's smile is really, honestly beautiful, and not just because his teeth are toothpaste ad quality and his cheekbones would make Da Vinci cry. He sort of lights up from inside when he really smiles, all bright baby blues and a sweetness that hits Darcy just under the ribs and holds her breath there.

"Thanks, Darce," he says, and his usual earnestness is turned up so high it hits her like a slap. He catches his towel with one hand, takes the folder with the other, and because she's not looking at his chest or stomach or thigh, where it's peeking through the gap in the towel, she sees it. Right there on the inside of his right wrist, plain as day.

Darcy.

"Holy shit," she says, brain cringing away from her mouth in preparation for what's to come. "I have got to tell Jane about this."

Yep, there it is. She can't even look up to see how he reacts, she's so embarrassed.