i. Pancakes and Lady Bits
Light spills into the room, soft and slow in the blue hues of the early dawn. She doesn't notice at first, fingers hitting the keys in a constant rhythm, Jane's scribbles are laid out flat beneath the light of lamp her focus is singular—from paper to screen, digits moving without pause. Etta James crooning about church bells cut through the silence of the early hours or late hours if the fact she hadn't gone to bed yet was taken under consideration. Normally her earbuds would be tucked in snuggly in her ears but Clint had taken to sneaking behind her, chin hovering over her shoulder until she noticed and nearly jumped out of her skin when she was distracted. All the while his crooked grin grew wider and wider each time he managed to catch her unaware.
Which considering he was a professional spy meant it was a lot of the fucking time.
So J.A.R.V.I.S was playing D.J for her and the last playlist that had been accessed was Steve's, but good music was good music not matter the decade so she didn't bother to change to her own. Taking a moment to stretch her cramped fingers she notes the sun was beginning to crest over the impressive New York sky line. Saving the document she closes her laptop—new and improved thanks to her employment at Stark Industries, she was official science gopher slash guinea pig slash wrangler of the Triad. Or as HR liked to call her Project Manager of Applied Sciences, sounded fancier but hers was more accurate.
Really putting that PoliSci degree to work there Darcy.
Snorting at her own self deprecation she decides its too goddamn early (too late, whatever) for those kinds of thought but it seemed just the right time for pancakes. Delicious, buttery, smothered in honey (syrup was a classic but she liked honey, sue her) and fresh strawberries. Only it was going to be strawberries on the side since Pepper was in the building and no doubt would be up soon. Oh and Jane would need that weird agave syrup she was hooked on, with as many modifications as she'd need to make she might as well go the extra mile.
"Hey J-man?"
"Yes, Miss Lewis?"
"Can you tell our motley crew that today's menu will consist of a buttload of pancakes and toppings a la whatever the hell we have in the kitchen?"
It was weird at first just speaking to the out air but easy enough to get used to. Taking a half gallon of milk she dumps it in a jug and combines it with vinegar to cur. That would need to set for at least ten minutes before it was ready which was fine, batter needed to be made, fruit washed and condiments set out.
"Of course Miss Lewis-" the A.I's clipped tones paused for a moment, "Dr. Foster wishes me to express her distain at being woken this early on a Sunday and Miss Romanov is requesting coffee be made available. The others have given various degrees of confirmation to their attendance."
"Can you get that coffee going for me J? Got my hands full with this batter." Grandpa Lewis was the only cook her family had produced in generations before she'd come along and shown interest in learning what he had to teach. Growing up poor he had always been thrifty with ingredients and a supporter of hearty, home cooked meals. His pancakes were the best she'd ever had, hands down, even better then the swanky brunch place Pepper had taken her to once to introduce her the other members of Applied Science. Primarily she was assigned to Jane, Tony and Bruce when was in the Tower but she was also going to manage the schedule for the other underling and interns. It was a daunting task but in the end J.A.R.V.I.S helped with most of the organizing and she was really left delegating.
Which was cool and all but lacked the pizzaz of New Mexico and London.
Things were quiet, a more cliché inclined individual would follow that up with and ominous too quiet but she hated that cryptic shit. Instead she settled this quiet into the safer category of 'Boring' which she knew Stark would take as a personal offense if she ever uttered the words out loud. Still, it was a more mundane daily life then she'd had before—college had been full of new people, learning (yes, she liked learning) and yeah, maybe a Keger or two for weekends.
Mixing together the dry ingredients in the largest bowl (making sure not to forget the baking soda, secret to fluffiest pancakes ever) she could find—because there be super soldiers and Gods in these waters—she cracks a carton of eggs into the milk, puts in a few shakes of vanilla and butter before combining everything and whisking it all together. Letting the batter sit was important to let it work in the air bubbles from the vinegar and baking soda combining. Setting out various fruits (cause despite the fact that she didn't think anyone but her and Banner could identify the right end of a spatula the kitchen was always fully stocked) and preserves, she also took down Jane's weirdo syrup, the real Canadian stuff and her preferred orange-blossom honey.
Feeling magnanimous she also brings down the brightly colored marshmallows too—cause Clint was literally twelve and loved them, he wasn't in the Tower all that often to enjoy these Sunday get togethers so she'd indulge him. The first to arrive was Thor with a rumpled looking Jane following behind him, "Lady Darcy, always a pleasure to break fast with you-" (he says it like its two words and she honestly finds it adorable) he guides his lady love to a chair at the table and brings her a cup doctored with several spoonfuls of sugar before coming over to assist. He brings down plates, cups and utensils and sets the table all the while striking up idle chatter. Marvin Gaye has taken over for Etta for a while now and she mentally rolls her eyes at Wilson's influence on this playlist.
"J, can you please play brunch-munch playlist three?" Jane snorts into her coffee but its all she can manage before she consumes a second cup so Darcy just sends her the stink eye. Sinatra and horns take over for the mellow tunes of Marvin. Setting out the two griddle she slathers plenty of butter on them (listen, she subscribed to the Julia Child school of cooking) and watches it melt and swirls it around the pan to cover every inch. The pans is big enough to squeeze four decent sized pancakes per pan so it doesn't take too long before she's got a decent batch going. Natasha and Banner (and she's not gonna comment on the coincidence of how the Widow manages to always be running into the good Doc because she values her skin thank you very much) arrive next and settle in, like a gentleman Bruce pours first the russians mug of coffee then his own-his one cup of the week.
He strikes up a subdued conversation with Jane who replies in what she assumes are highly intelligent grunts and Natasha just sips her coffee watching the exchange over the rim of her cup. Clint apperates (no really, he fucking has to be pulling some Harry Potter shit) next to her, hip cocked against the counter tossing up marshmallows in the air and catching them in his mouth. She doesn't so much as flinch (and she's proud of it) just raises a brow before handing over pancake laden plates for him to heap on the table.
Steve walks in fresh as a daisy (which is absurd seeing as its like, six thirty in the morning at most) engrossed in an argument with Wilson, he's flanked by Barnes who doesn't engage his companions but is looking less murder-death-kill today. Thor it would appear had decided pancakes simply won't be enough (eh, probably right) because he's taken it upon himself to whip out eggs and bacon at lighting speed (she's only slightly ashamed of that pun). Commander 'Call me Maria' Hill was serving up toast and not for the first time she seriously considered putting bells on these people (where the hell did they keep crawling out from?). The last to arrive to no one's surprise are Tony and Pepper who looked pretty sexed up (good for them, at least someone was getting laid, well so was Jane...and if Bruce could then she was sure the Widow would take care of that soon.)
With the remainder of the pancakes flipped and plated she brings the last serving to the table and finds two seats empty, one between Steve and Pepper which Hil—Maria-takes with a smile at Pepper and an under the lashes look at Rogers who honest to God looks like he's about to blush, and the other between Natasha and Barnes.
Breakfast with the Russian mob it was.
Golden light is now filtering in and damn if it this wasn't a Kodak moment with all these ridiculously attractive people (even Barnes had a hobo-chic thing going on) all gathered over food. Putting down the final plate was like a signal for the others to begin when she was finally seated. At least three different conversation began, her attention jumped between all of them but she took part in none—content to simply be. Stacking her plate three pancakes high with a nice helping of eggs and bacon she reaches for the honey at the same time a metallic hand had wrapped around it before its owner snatches it back—the brush of metal cool against her fingers.
"Oh, sorry dude—my bad." picking up the honey she drizzles (and drizzles and drizzles) it over her pancakes and holds it out to Barnes. "I thought I was the only one who liked honey on my pancakes." She sense more then sees Natasha's attention shift to them. "Help yourself." He doesn't pick up the bottle until she's put it down on the table and slides it over before turning her back to her plate seemingly disinterested (anyone else and she would have called them out but this was Barnes and he had a whole theme park of issues going on in his head—so he got a pass).
They send compliments her way, Stark goes as far as logistically planning out the grand opening of her cafe (named Tony's of course), over the pancakes. Accepting the praise as humbly as she is capable of being, she tells them to just not let her hard work go to waste. Not that it's a question whether or not there will be left overs, Thor is an enthusiastic eater but Steve might match him in appetite. Barnes is an efficient eater, putting away forkful after forkful like it might be taken away from him at any moment. No doubt it had been taken before and she finds herself angry at the though of what H.Y.D.R.A had done to him. She takes the plate with the last two pancakes and shifts it close to Barnes who pauses for the span of a breath before he takes those too and continues eating.
At the end of the meal Pepper excuses herself when J.A.R.V.I.S chimes in that she has an urgent call from the board—Tony follows to weasel away from the possibility of even having to do dishes—Hill and Clint are gone as quietly as they came but Sam and Steve are gathering dishes. Piling them in the sink and flowing smoothly into a wash and dry rhythm. Natasha slinks her way to sit on the counter near the two soldier and glances occasionally at the Foster/Banner brainstorm session.
Left with Barnes at her side, under the watchful eye of Rogers (God she hoped he didn't think he was being subtle) she turns and tries to look as harmless as possible which isn't hard, she's small, plump and more fragile looking then she was comfortable with.
"How did you like Grandpa Lewis pancakes?"
Safe, boring subject.
He looks at her as if he wants to check behind him to see if she's addressing someone else, she's never been this close to him—he's got the bluest eyes she's ever seen surrounded by thick, pointed lashes.
"They were good." he gives the barest nod more to himself then her, as if making sure the reply is sufficient "Very good, Ma'am".
He says ma'am with a duck of his head and rises from his seat to bring his dish and utensils to the sink, exchanges brief words with Steve and Natasha before making his exit. She tries not to think about the way ma'am rolls off his tongue with a hint of Brooklyn to it and does these funny things to her lady bits (very pleasant thing to her lady bits).
Watching is ass as he leaves, because it is a sight worth watching she shakes her head and turns back to last of her meal (God, she really needed to add herself to the list of people being laid around here before she did something dumb, like jump poor, traumatized Barnes and riding him for all he was worth.)