Got lazy a few weeks ago and didn't post all my fills. As a form of procrastination, I am now rectifying that.
The book of love is long and boring
And written very long ago
It's full of flowers and heart-shaped boxes
And things we're all too young to know
'Book of love' – Peter Gabriel
It would be nice to meet you if this wasn't so awkward.
Darcy is dancing around their new lab, revelling in the extra space. "Go ahead go way low, I can do no harm…"
"Darcy," Jane pouts, "Do you see the delicate equipment? Yes? Respect it."
"Puh-lease, as if Tony can't afford to replace everything in this lab five times over."
"Not the point."
Darcy ignores her, shimming around a desk and bending low. "This will end badly," Jane predicts in a sage voice suggesting that this isn't the first time she's made that pronouncement to her assistant.
And like every time before, Jane is proved right.
"Go ahead go way low in my honey lovin' arms – woah!" Darcy stands up straight and spins around straight into someone's chest. She and Someone go crashing to the ground. Someone grabs her around the waist as if that will somehow stop the inevitable painful bump.
Spoiler alert; it doesn't.
Darcy ends up sprawled on top of Someone, hands flung out to the side, an arm still holding her and his legs and hers in a position that she simply labels as 'compromising'.
"Oh god. Thank you. I knew Velma would be good entertainment value."
Darcy's head snaps up. She can hear Tony Snark (as she renamed him four minutes into their acquaintance) but can't see him. What she does see is a pair of brown eyes behind crooked glasses. Nothing on earth, not even the flecks of mahogany she can pick out in Someone's eyes or the way his hair curls against his scalp, can justify the way her insides of melt like ice cream under hot fudge sauce.
"Darcy! Bruce! Are you all right?" Oh Jane, Darcy thinks distractedly, she's here.
"Doctor Foster," Tony says seriously, "I believe you said something about 'delicate equipment'?"
"Shut up, Tony."
"Um…" Someone-who-is-apparently-called-Bruce starts, "Can you get off me, please?"
Darcy's still staring at him, so there's no way Someone-who-is-apparently-called-Bruce misses the way her cheeks flush. However, if she's going for a ride on the embarrassment roller-coaster, he's sure as hell coming with her. "I would love to, but you're still holding me."
The arm around her tenses and tightens, as if he's checking that it really is there. With this ascertained, he lets her go. Much less gracefully than she'd like, Darcy rolls off of him and onto the ground. "This floor… is not comfortable," she decides. Glancing over at Most-likely-called-Bruce, Darcy catches what she recognises as the 'This chick is crazy' stare.
"Darcy Lewis, meet Doctor Bruce Banner, genius by day, giant angry green superhero by night." Tony sounds entirely too overjoyed for Darcy's peace of mind, "Bruce, meet Darcy, Doctor Foster's attractive, certifiably insane assistant."
Darcy's first thought isn't 'Holy frick, I was on top of the Hulk' but 'Huh. So his name is Bruce'. It's possible that her brain isn't functioning on the higher levels due to shock.
Looking up, she sees that Bruce is sitting up and staring down at her. He holds out a hand, "Hello."
Darcy takes it, "Hello."
I'm sorry, but my brain has literally just short circuited from how attractive I find you.
Darcy and Jane are waiting in the lobby of Stark Tower as the Avengers return from their latest round of daring do. Clint and Natasha file in first. After them comes Tony, face uncovered with an arm around Bruce, who for the record Your Honor is wearing pants. And only pants.
"Thor should be along in a minute," Natasha tells Jane, "some children got caught up in the fight. He and Steve are cheering them up."
It's entirely possible that Jane replies to this but Darcy is too distracted to notice. You don't go for chest hair Darce. Seriously, a game of 'Never have I ever' in college established that. With great will power Darcy prevents her eyes from straying any further south.
"Jane," she whines, pawing at her friend's arm. "JaneJaneJaneJane."
"What?"
"I am in pain. Brain pain."
Jane sighs the sigh of the long suffering, "I repeat; what?"
"Darcy?" Her attention snaps back to Bruce and Darcy's mouth goes dry. What is with that? Okay. Be calm. He doesn't need to know that you want to jump his bones. Bruce is skittish!
"Hey. Uh, hello…" Think of something! "Hi."
Great job. Ten points to Slytherin.
By this point Bruce has his 'Darcy is a crazy person' expression down pat.
Pay attention to me, not SCIENCE.
"Hey." No response.
"Hey, Bruce." Darcy crumples a piece of paper in a ball and chucks it at his head. Briefly it looks as if it's going to stay lodged in Bruce's hair, but after a valiant struggle it falls to the floor. "Hello, earth to Robert Bruce Banner, come in?"
A cough from Darcy's left distracts her. Jane has torn herself away from her work and is mouthing, " . ," with as much venom as she can insert while having her hair held in place by a cleverly placed spoon (liberated from Darcy's cup of coffee).
"Seduction," Darcy mouths back. Jane scowls - though Darcy is 50/50 on whether it's because she's interrupting SCIENCE or because she's essentially poking a giant green bear with (in Darcy's opinion) a very attractive stick.
Whatever dude.
Darcy sidles over beside Bruce, who is currently absorbed with what's under the lens of his microscope. Leaning over so her loose hair brushes against his collar Darcy whispers in his ear, "Hello, doctor."
She's close enough to see Bruce seize up slightly. "Darcy," he says carefully, "is there something you want?"
Upon seeing the tension in his frame most people would back off and beg for forgiveness. Darcy does not (re: poking giant green bear with very attractive stick). Instead Darcy bows her head, so her lips are a hairs breadth away from his ear, "No, I'm good."
So…this is your alter ego?
Hearing descriptions of the Hulk, watching footage of him on TV and actually being in the same room as him are very, very different things.
For a moment all Darcy feels is the instinctive panic of an animal confronted with something much bigger and stronger than she is. Why is no one else in the lab? Of course Jane and Tony are taking a break from their wondrous science now. Of course. That is exactly my life. At least his pants held up.
When the moment of madness subsides, Darcy looks up and sees the Hulk watching her. Somehow she gets the sense that her first reaction is crucial, something on which the whole encounter will hinge.
"Hello," she smiles, giving a jaunty wave.
"Funny," Hulk (no 'the' Darcy realises) rumbles back.
"Who, me?"
"Yes. Funny." She's a little confused about whether 'Funny' is being used as a noun or an adjective, but Darcy isn't going to question.
"We haven't met yet," She holds out a hand, "I'm Darcy."
Hulk and Bruce are obviously connected somewhere, because when Hulk looks from his hand to hers he pulls off a pretty impressive imitation of Bruce's 'Is this girl actually insane and not in the good way?' look.
Tentatively, Hulk reaches out a hand and lets Darcy clasp his fingers by way of a handshake. "Darcy."
"Okay. I don't mean to be rude or anything, but as Jane likes to remind me, there are a lot of very breakable things in here. Tony installed a panic room in here that can hold you."
"Darcy want to lock Hulk up?" She thinks it's a question not an accusation, but the way Hulk growled it out really confuses the issue.
Darcy holds her hands up and makes damn sure meets his eyes, "Of course not. I just don't want Jane to come back to a busted up lab. She'll probably blame me. Somehow."
Seeing that joking isn't the way out of this, Darcy takes slow steps towards him until she can rest her hand on his forearm. "No locks, I promise. Just a Hulk-sized room. I'll come with you if you want."
"Darcy stay with Hulk?"
"Yep. As long as you want."
The sheepish smile he gives her makes Darcy's insides do the unfortunate melting-thing.
First dates are awkward and turn me into an awkward turtle. Please don't think I'm a loser.
Darcy is actually running late. Seriously, they live in the same building. How is it even possible? Alas it is and she's tapping her foot impatiently against the floor of the elevator, silently willing it to just get to the lobby already.
When the doors open (finally) she takes three quick steps out turns to the right and bam! Face first into someone's chest. Darcy doesn't even need to look up.
"Hello, Bruce."
His laughter is a wavering uncertain thing, betraying the part of Bruce that thinks he doesn't have any right to laugh at all. His hands rest on her upper arms as he steps back. "This is becoming a bad habit."
Oh ground, wilt thou swallow me whole? Pretty please?
Darcy adjusts her glasses, "At least I'm consistent." Since they're this close anyway, she reaches up and smoothes out the creases on the front of his shirt. Darcy could swear she hears Bruce gulp.
We totally had awesome sex last night.
Waking up is much less painful than it usually is. The sheets are soft against her skin and comfortably warm. Rolling over, Darcy's head bumps someone's arm.
Arm. Body. Person. Bed. Bruce. Bruce. Ohhh, those are good memories.
Darcy allows herself a moment to bask in the 'waking up after good sex' glow. Lazily, she opens her eyes to peek up at Bruce. He's propped up on one of his elbows and looking down at her.
"Hello," Darcy yawns.
"Hello to you too." He brushes a strand of hair out of her face, a smile playing on his lips.
"Huh," Darcy muses, "I thought you'd be freaking out more."
"I did it while you were asleep," Bruce admits.
"Smart. I'd probably have hit you."
His hand is stroking her hair and Darcy tips her head back into the touch. "So…we're good?"
If Bruce hears the hesitation (and worry) in her tone, he doesn't comment on it. "Yeah. We're good." He lies down and Darcy shimmies closer. Rolling over on to his side, Bruce uses the hand that had been in her hair to pull her closer. Resting her forehead in the space between his shoulder and neck, Darcy inhales. Bruce.
Don't worry, you're already forgiven.
It's been half an hour and Darcy guesses that's enough time for Bruce to plummet from rage into self-loathing. Getting up from her bed (she'd retreated there to give Bruce space – not because she was shaking with tears waiting to spill out) Darcy heads back to Bruce's suite.
The click of the door opening as she lets herself in is deafening. The living room is empty and Darcy can see dust swirling in the rays of light that come through the window. Stepping through the room to check Bruce's study, it seems as the world is holding its breath.
She's careful to make as much fuss of opening the door as possible. Startling Bruce right now would not end well for anyone. He's hunched over at his desk and doesn't react to her entrance. As slowly and as gently as she would with a startled animal, Darcy lays a hand on his shoulder, stroking him with her thumb.
When he lifts his head to look her Bruce is pale, his eyes rimmed red. The only word Darcy can think of is haunted.
Darcy breathes. "Hi."
She swivels his chair around to face her. Cradling his face in her hands, Darcy presses a kiss to his forehead. This isn't about their little spat. Not anymore. "We're okay, babe, it's okay." Bruce sags forward, resting his head against her rib cage and she can feel the frames of his glasses digging into her bones, arms snaking up to cling to her back.
"I was scared I'd hurt you."
"The Other Guy?" One of her hands is rubbing circles on his back, the other pressed to the spot where his hairline ends and his neck begins.
"No," he whispers, sounding like a frightened child, "me."
Darcy feels something hard in her throat and words flee from her, all of them woefully inadequate. Something tells her that Bruce's eyes are closed. She doesn't want to know what memories are playing out behind his eyelids. His father. His mother. Blood. Why won't mom move?
Kneeling down, Darcy makes him look at her, "You wouldn't, Bruce not ever. No more than you could hack off your own arm."
Some people put their faith in God, some in heroes, some in leaders, some in themselves.
Darcy gives hers to Bruce. He needs it most.
You just saved the world and I'm lost for words.
The assembled SHEILD personnel, soldiers and Darcy doesn't care who else are applauding. Why shouldn't they? The Avengers just saved the world from some crazy powerful dude who apparently has a bit of a thing for Death. The team are looking sheepish and dazed, their brains taking time to catch up with reality. They're all injured except Tony, whose latest suit is destined for the recycling plant and Bruce in his usual post-hulk state of undress.
Jane and Pepper are doing slow, emotional walks towards their respective partners, proud smiles blooming on their faces. Darcy can practically hear the triumphal Hans Zimmer number playing.
Screw that shit.
Darcy runs past them all. She crashes into Bruce and throws her arms around his neck. He's alive. He's safe. He's home. Reality hits Bruce at that moment and he holds Darcy as if someone is about to take her from him. Then he's laughing as the tension unwinds, lifting Darcy clean off her feet.
She pulls back to look at him and Darcy can't take her eyes off his. She tries to communicate what she's feeling. Impossible. Nothing can express the fear, the joy, the pride and sheer love that she feels in every part of her body. Her lips meet his in one chaste kiss.
"Hello hero."
Bruce blushes pink and Darcy presses her lips to his, and this time there is nothing 'chaste' about it. Distantly, she can hear that the agents have started up the applause again.
Sometimes we don't need words
It was inevitable that SHEILD would poach her from Jane. Darcy misses the lab – the day seems a little dull without Tony's explosions and Jane's half crazed mutterings as she thinks out loud. After training (eight months, there was a boot camp) she wasn't a different person, but she felt a lot more 'put together' as if she'd finally stumbled across what she was supposed to be doing all along.
It's different not seeing Bruce at work every day. However it's not the wrench that Darcy thought it would be. She knows that when she comes home, he'll be there waiting for her.
The first time they bumped into each other in SHEILD HQ everyone in the corridor (everyone including a cleaner, some of the most highly skilled agents in the country and Director Fury) went into slow motion, suddenly had to tie their shoe laces or found something on the blank white wall incredibly fascinating. They are waiting for some kind of dramatic statement of devotion or possible a make out session. Darcy doesn't blame them. They've never been shy about PDA.
Unfortunately the peanut gallery are all out of luck. Everything that needs to be said about the new arrangement has already been said. Anything else is silently understood and doesn't need to be voiced.
Darcy spares him an exhausted smile, "Hello, doc." My day sucks. Love you.
"Agent," Bruce nods with a wry grin. I share a workspace with Tony Stark. You don't know stress. I love you too.
I won't let you be alone
The more Darcy looks at Hulk, sitting on the ground with his back to her, the more she is convinced that the next time she sees General Thaddeus Ross she is going to kill him.
They shot at him. If I ever lay eyes on Ross again…
Tentatively, Darcy lays a hand on his back, all tension and hard muscle. His head turns the smallest fraction, "Hulk want to be alone."
"Hello to you too," Darcy smirks. She draws up beside him running her hand from his back to his arm.
"People hate Hulk." Oh God. Darcy hadn't known he could speak that quietly. The fury that bubbles in her stomach almost boils over. No one make someone Darcy loves sound that lost. No one.
"So what? You help save the world which is a damn sight more than Ross and his minions have ever done. Besides, plenty of people like you. They're the ones who matter. Screw everyone else."
Because he's sitting down Darcy can kiss his cheek, "And I happen to love you. That's the important part."
A tiny chuckle for Hulk sounds like a low roll of thunder to her. Hearing it, Darcy's anger calms. "Laugh all you want," she grins, "You know I'm right."
At this point, nothing else needs to be said.
Darcy isn't yet able to say if her wedding day is the happiest of her life. At this moment, the whole affair feels a little like the end of a cheesy rom-com.
It's a far cry from the traditional white wedding. When you spend as much time with superheroes as Darcy has, you start to see patterns. Some events just invite supervillian interference. That is why Bruce and Darcy's wedding is as low key an event as possible – Darcy does not have the patience required for a 'third time's the charm' approach towards such an important day. They hire an Indian restaurant and invite only those closest to them (all of whom had to be approved by SHEILD). To top it off, the whole thing is officially a party for the department managers of Stark Industries (Tony and Pepper are actually throwing them a party in case anyone checks).
Part of the restaurant has been cleared for the ceremony and she can smell spices coming from the kitchen. Her dress is white for the sake of her Nana Lewis and covered in lace, but because Darcy emphatically does not do the steeped-in-tradition- fairy-tale-princess-this-is-my-happy-ending crap, it's also knee length and short sleeved. Her bridesmaids Jane, Pepper and Natasha (who insists that she is a bodyguard) are wearing green cocktail dresses. Darcy is many things, but subtle is not one of them. Best man Tony has gone a step further and is actually wearing a Hulk t-shirt under his suit instead of a shirt.
The smile Bruce greets her with is dazzling and when Darcy thinks of everything he's been through, everything they've been through, she'd happily do anything to keep him smiling like that for the rest of his life.
Huh. Maybe she'd just stumbled upon the whole point of this marriage business. Awesome. This isn't their happy ending Darcy understands, it's a marker on a very long journey.
By the time Darcy reaches Bruce her face aches from smiling. They take the last steps towards the minister (another concession to the force of nature that is Nana Lewis) together and turn their heads to look at one another.
"Hello," Bruce whispers, "glad you could make it."
Darcy grins back and bumps his shoulder. That is insanely corny Bruce. You could do better. Hell, I can do better.
"Hello doc."
Dammit Darcy.