Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers, Twilight, the Terminator movies, or body glitter. The combination of them together was a product of too much chocolate and not enough peanuts. Blah, blah, blah don't use the rack.

Clint Likes Ketchup and Air Ducts

Darcy was eating lunch in the Avenger's kitchen with Clint, son of Barton, when an explosion rocked the tower. Without looking up both of them grabbed their drink glasses to stabilize them and continued eating.

A few seconds later there was an angry roar and the tower rocked again. That wasn't an every day occurrence, but it wasn't that unusual. Dr. Big and Green Hulked out for various reasons once every couple months or so. Darcy side eyed Hawkeye just to be sure there was no danger.

It took her a few moments to realize that something unusual was, in fact, happening. Darcy looked up at the ceiling. "JARVIS?"

Clint finally lifted his head from contemplating his ketchup smothered fries. What that man did to his spuds was a sin against potatoes.

"JARVIS?" Darcy called with a bit more urgency in her voice. If the silence from the AI and the commotion upstairs turned out to be Stark's idea of a prank, she was going to poison the next set of waffles she sat in front of the man.

When a bullet imbedded itself into the cabinets three feet to her left shit got real. Darcy fell to the floor and flailed. When she realized there were no following shots she cautiously removed her arms from around her head.

Son of Barton stood before her. The sun streamed in the windows glinting off his extremely cut biceps. How biceps could reflect light Darcy wasn't sure. Her money was on body glitter. But it was equally likely Clint was secretly a Twilight vampire. It would explain Natasha.

When her gaze followed the turn of his head she saw the situation was bad guy down. Hawkeye's weapon of choice? His plate of French fries. Darcy could admit that it was kind of bad ass.

"Come on," Clint demanded, reaching his hand down to her.

And with that Darcy had her very own 'come with me if you want to live,' moment. The moment died a swift death when she realized Hawkeye wanted them to travel through the air ducts.

"I'm not gonna fit through there," she protested, gesturing toward the absurdly small opening. Darcy had hips. She had boobs. It wasn't happening.

"You fit or you die," Clint announced.

She always knew take out was going to kill her. Gunfire sounded from down the hall and Darcy started praying she was having a skinny day. A few wiggles, some discreet cursing, and she was in like Flynn. Amazing how motivating the idea of being shot could be. Her boobs were pressed flat like pancakes though.

Darcy had visions of getting stuck in some corner and EMT's having to use the jaws of life to rescue her. Stark would laugh his ass off and post the video on you tube.

With a glance down at the dust and dirt coating her arms Darcy resolved to have a chat with the billionaire. The ducts were filthy and they were breathing that shit in. If she crawled through lab dust and ended up a radioactive super woman Darcy promised herself she would kick all the asses.

The man in front of her slipped along like he was a greased pig. Maybe Darcy was wrong about the glitter and Clint had a glandular disorder. Her knees were bruised. Her elbows were bruised. Her hair was a mess. Darcy's urge to murder was rising.

Occasionally Clint dropped out of the vent and shot up a room full of bad guys. Darcy stayed securely in the ducting tapping her fingers impatiently against her arm. Then he would climb back in and they would continue moving onward. After about an hour of that Clint finally dropped into a room full of familiar voices and motioned to her to join him.

Darcy crawled over the opening to drop feet first. When Thor caught her she made a mental note to give him a pass on the next time he needed her assistance.

Jane was there and she looked completely fine. Obviously she'd been evac'd by someone who didn't enjoy HVAC quite so much. In fact, though the rest of them had been through actual battle, Darcy looked the worst. A click from her right drew her attention.

Stark smirked at her from behind his phone. "Thanks for cleaning out my ducting Lewis," he snarked.

'Poisoned waffles,' Darcy thought. 'Definitely poisoning his waffles.'