"Candy might be sweet, but it's a traveling carnival blowing through town. Pie is home. People always come home." ~ Pushing Daisies
A hot blast of air from the oven temporarily fogged up her glasses, and it was only with an intimate knowledge of the kitchen that Darcy managed to blindly place the pie on the trivet that awaited it. Wiping her glasses clear on the edge of the apron, she surveyed her tiny kingdom.
Pumpkin, apple, pecan, cherry and the just finished blackberry pie all lined the counter top. In the fridge, lemon meringue and chocolate silk pies chilled side by side. Hands on her hips, she turned to the very last bowl on the counter, perfectly ripe peaches ready to be sliced and turned into pie number eight.
It was Thursday, August 7th. Not that the date mattered, it wasn't a very important day at all. Just a Thursday, a work day. No one's birthday, no special occasion or anniversary to celebrate. There wasn't even a holiday this month. But Darcy was homesick, and nothing spoke 'home' to her like pie. So she had told Jane that morning that she was taking a personal day and proceeded to acquire all the supplies she needed to make every kind of pie she and her dad had made in her childhood. Eight types of pies all made from scratch, by memory. Dad would have been proud.
The peach pie had bubbled over (it always did, peaches were just like that) and onto the cookie sheet placed there to catch it's drippings. Darcy was standing in front of the stove, risking scorched fingertips as she scraped the caramelized peach sauce into her mouth when the first visitor arrived.
"Whatcha doing, doll?"
Darcy turned, sucking sticky peaches off her finger as she watched Bucky take an appreciative sniff of the kitchen air.
"Makin' pies, snowflake. What about you?"
He grinned at the stupid nickname before replying, "Eatin' pies, I guess."
She smiled and shook her head at him before reaching into a cupboard for a large stack of plates.
"How many pies you think I'm gonna eat?" he asked, eyeing the stack.
"Oh, I assume that you and I won't be alone for long."
Sure enough, just as she was laying out the chilled pies and pulling the ice cream from the freezer, Steve sauntered in, Clint and Nat on his heels.
"What's the dinner plan?" Steve asked, leaning a hip against the counter's edge. Clint and Nat sat on barstools next to Bucky.
"I kinda got distracted and didn't make dinner," Darcy confessed, pulling a face at the row of dessert on the counter.
"Pie is dinner," declared Clint, grabbing a large knife and swiftly slicing the cherry pie into generous pieces.
And so it was. Slowly, all of the Tower occupants found their way to the kitchen and ate slice after slice of Darcy's pies. Instead of drifting back off to their labs or their paperwork though, they all stayed there, sitting on barstools or counters, leaning against each other's knees and shoulders with more comfort and companionship than they usually showed. And if Darcy's eyes grew a little misty when she looked at this newly made family around her, if Thor's hugs lasted a little longer than usual, if Natasha touched her a bit more than was normal, if Bucky's warm hand curled around hers and didn't let go, well, no one was going to say anything about it tonight. Tonight they had pie, and laughter, and love, and each other. Tonight, they were home.