So. This is my first story, and I'm writing it at like, one in the morning, after watching Angela Kasaseva doing her thing on youtube.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my idea.
Darcy had been acting suspicious all day, Steve had noticed. She had told him she had to cancel their weekly movie night, that she had practically forced on him when she found out he hadn't seen the Star Wars movies, and hadn't waited for him to reply before rushing out of the room, throwing a "See you tomorrow, Steve!" over her shoulder as she did.
So he was doing what any friend would, and following her as she left S.H.I.E.L.D.
Or as Clint had said, spying, and "I would know cap, I am the spy!", at which point Natasha had scowled and thrown a russian literature novel at his head. Apparently Natasha disliked her partner stealing her title. Vehemently. (It had turned into an all out war, because Clint did not appreciate having Dostoevsky launched at his head. Then Tony had joined in, just because he had invented some random egg shaped object that he called 'ninja eggs'. They were full of flour at the moment and broke on impact, but he said that Natasha could put what the hell she liked in them. "Happy birthday Natasha!" Natasha had actually hugged the billionaire, before skipping, skipping off to fill her ninja eggs with Clint only knew what. Tony had announced himself 'the king of gift-giving' and flounced off to bother Bruce in the lab. "Is it even her birthday?" Jane had muttered, before going back to her calculations on whether she could create a physical rainbow. Scientists.)
So anyway, the 'spying'.
He shadowed Darcy three blocks, mentally noting he should have the wonder twins, as he called the two spies, teach Darcy how to tell when she was being followed.
In his own head space, because if Natasha ever heard the nickname, he would likely be missing a few key parts. He likes those parts just where they are, thank you very much. Very useful.
Darcy heads for a side alley, and his heartbeat picks up a bit. Hurrying to catch up, he is rewarded with a glimpse of Darcy's ponytail as she enters a...dance studio? Furrowing his brow, Steve waited until Darcy vanished into a changing room, and then dashed into the studio. Throwing a casual smile at the receptionist, he waited until he heard Darcy greet 'her bitches' and slipped through the door.
Whereupon he freezes dead. And then hides. The first because Darcy is decidedly not dressed in the pencil skirt and blouse she was when she left the office, but loose tracksuit bottoms and a very tight tank top that shows off all her womanly assets very well.
No, really. Very well.
Steve takes a split second to appreciate modern day fashion as he ducks behind a conveniently placed stereo set, that somehow has enough room to fit a large, Captain America sized person. He quiets his breathing and strains, not very hard, to hear what Darcy is saying. Oh. She is asking if they remember last week's routine.
Routine?
But Steve has no time to wonder what she means because he can hear Darcy's footsteps as she jogs over to the stereo, and proceeds to what he assumes is place a CD in and hit play(he memorised the rhythm of Darcy's gait a long time ago, because he doesn't want to freak out when she 'sneaks' up behind him. Not that it is really sneaking in her heels. And it isn't weird so shut up.) A song with peculiar noises at the beginning starts playing, and he hears Darcy shouting instructions to the beat of the music. After a while, he hears her telling them to take it from the top and "I'll join in, okay?", and he gathers the courage to poke his head out, only to jerk it back when she returns to make the song start over. When he hears her go back over, he cautiously peers around the stereo.
His jaw drops.
Darcy is moving swiftly to the beat of what he now recognises as Cannibal, by Ke$ha("C'mon, Steve, this really is awesome, it's so sassy!"), in a strangely hypnotic, jerky movement.
Otherwise known as dancing.
Steve is fairly sure his eyes have fallen out of his head. He is at the very least staring. A lot.
Darcy looks so sure of herself and confident. Like all the hoopla that being part of S.H.I.E.L.D throws up has just melted away and she has been replaced by a sensual, writhing, beautiful woman.
He has always known that Darcy is beautiful, just...
He has never seen her like this. He briefly wonders if anyone has. Then he is drawn back in by the sway of her hips and the coy expression plastered onto her face. The song ends, and Darcy congratulates the other people in the room, yanking him out of his reverie and forcing him to pull his head back reluctantly.
And contemplate when he started imagining his best friend thrashing and moaning beneath him, then flipping them over and riding him to completion.
He thinks it was when she started swaying her round, plump ass like that.
"Same time, on tuesday next week. Sorry I moved it this week, my work has been pure hell and I needed to blow off some steam. See you guys, have a good weekend!" Darcy calls several more farewells, and then switches out the CD for a song that proclaims that it has something 'in it's trunk'. Bemused but barely deterred from watching Darcy again, he resumes watching the object of his new found desires, and is once again mesmerised and aroused. Darcy finishes, and he yet again hides. He can hear her clattering around, cleaning up and drinking from her water bottle. All sound stops and, thinking she has left, he gets up, stretches and goes to dart from the room and never tell anyone of this ever, especially Darcy, when said person-who-was-never-supposed-to-see-him-here taps him on the shoulder. He spins around, gasping.
"Hey Steve." Darcy is grinning up at him, hands on hips. A curious expression creeps onto her face.
"Did you just squeak?"