His soul mark showed up when he was thirteen. It was longer than most people's and showed an almost unbearable amount of snark. He loved it.
Her's showed up at birth, and when she was old enough to understand what it said, she realized why her mother tried to cover it up most of the time. Most people's soul marks didn't include curse words. She loved it.
The usual problem with soul marks was that most people had one that said something innocuous. You were always trying to figure out if that person who just said 'hello', or 'excuse me' or 'welcome to Starbucks, can I take your order?' was really your soul mate, or just some random person who happened to say the exact same words you had imprinted on your body.
Darcy had no such problem. And if she was a little free with the swearing and dropped f-bombs into conversations to see what the result would be, most people could forgive her, she was just looking for her soul mate.
Clint was pretty sure that what was marked on him was the beginning of the conversation, so he just sat back and waited patiently (mostly) to see when that crazy phrase would show up in his life.
It was late May and Darcy was just coming back from a Pop Tart and coffee run - balancing the caffeine and sugar levels in Jane's bloodstream was her chosen profession now it seemed. She had just handed Jane her cup when the whole lab seemed to explode inward.
Darcy woke up on the ground, ears ringing, body covered in dust and paper shreds and the tiny metallic remains of all of Jane's hand-made machinery. Jane was out cold beside her, the coffee in her cup still pouring sluggishly out of the to-go lid. Fumbling for her phone, Darcy called the emergency number they had made her memorize after the whole thing with Thor and Mew-Mew and the creepy eye-beam monster/robot.
"Coulson," came the familiar, calm voice.
"Secret Agent Man, I think someone blew up the lab."
"Are you or Dr. Foster in the lab right now?"
"Yes! She's out cold and I'm covered in crap. What do I do?"
"Stay put. Don't move Dr. Foster. Call back if anyone besides SHIELD shows up." The line went dead just as Darcy started to argue.
"So not helpful," she says, brushing the worst of the dust out of her hair.
Of course, that's when she sees the creepy para-military guy sneaking through the broken glass window. There's 'annoying but helpful' jack-booted thugs and then there's 'creepy, probably going to kill us' jack-booted thugs, and she's pretty sure this one falls into the latter category. Trying not to make any noise, Darcy crawls through the broken machinery to reach her bag and the taser kept within. She's hiding under the desk as CreepyBoots crunches through the lab, making his way to Jane.
His back is to her, he's checking to see if Jane is alive or not. So Darcy tasers his ass and then cuffs him to the desk with his own handcuffs. She gets Coulson back on the line as she pulls Jane's prone form into a more defensible area away from CreepyBoots.
"What?" he answers shortly and Darcy can hear alarms going off through the phone.
"Someone besides SHIELD showed up."
"What happened, Darcy?" he asks with... is that actual concern in his voice?
"I tasered him and cuffed him to a desk. Could you hurry it up with the rescue?"
"We're dealing with some issues of our own, Ms. Lewis," he answers with that infuriatingly calm tone of his. "We'll have someone there soon."
"What do I do if there are more not-SHIELD guys?"
"There is a weapon secured behind the refrigerator. Please don't make me regret telling you that."
Darcy clicks the phone off and heads over to the fridge, pulling it out with a grunt. Sure enough, there is a handgun taped to the back of the fridge. "It's like a crazy Bourne movie up in here!" she mutters.
She returns to Jane, checking to make sure she's still breathing, and sits to wait for rescue. Or more bad-guys. She's prepared for either.
Clint finally finds a SHIELD vehicle that isn't a smoking ruin or otherwise incapacitated. Coulson had been very insistent that Clint get to Dr. Fosters lab quickly, the tone of his voice was actually more in the 'Get there five minutes ago!' variety. He pulls out of the parking lot of the once secret SHIELD installation like a bat out of hell, headed across the desert to Dr. Foster's rescue.
The 'lab' is actually now even more run-down than it had looked in pictures, and Clint makes his approach on noiseless feet. There are still-warm SUVs outside of the lab, and he fears that he's going to have to shoot his way in. He unslings the bow from his back and nocks an arrow, ready to take on the enemy inside.
What he finds inside however, is three enemy soldiers bleeding out on the dusty floor, one more handcuffed to a desk and a ravishing (if dusty) young woman pointing a SHIELD issued handgun at his midsection.
She lowers the gun as she notices the SHIELD logo emblazoned across his chest and opens her mouth. "Well, it took you fucking long enough! There are like nineteen different ways that could have gone faster! Literally. I'm literally counting all nineteen of them right now!"
Clint blinks as the words hit him in the heart, and an unbelieving smile crosses his face. "Holy fucking shit. You really are a snarky one, huh? I think I love you."
Her eyebrows raise up high on her forehead and a shit-eating grins tugs at the corner of her mouth at his words. "Darcy," she says, the grin in full force now.
"Clint," he replies. Yup, he loves his soul mark. And his soul mate.