Prompt from Tumblr. It was definitely fun to write! (:

Feel free to send me more prompts! sassygoddess dot tumblr dot com 3

Enjoy!

Darcy Lewis wasn't exactly known for being the most organized person.

Particularly when it came to her own life – Jane's stake of papers? Perfectly ordered from most urgent, to the least; Erik's collection of home movies? Alphabetized. She could get someone else's shit together, just, of course, not her own.

Naturally, when she suddenly jerked awake, she trusted her gut when a sense of dread crept in; it crawled up from her toes, all the way to the hairs on her neck. Fuck. What time was it? Whipping the covers off the bed, she searched the floor for the digital clock that she'd knocked over some time during the night when she got up to go pee.

8:15 am. Her life was officially over.

"Shit! Shit, shit, shitty, shit-shit!" The seemingly endless string of curses fell off of her tongue easily as she scrambled to put on some close – Fury would have a goddamn kitten if she showed up in a short-shorts and teddy, even if it did make her boobs like delicious. Hopping on one foot, she managed to put on her favorite pair of boots, and tie her hair up in a messy, half-assed bun. Coffee…coffee, guh.

Unfortunately for the lowly intern, there didn't seem to be a can of coffee beans in sight. Not in the whole damn flat. "What the fuck did I do with all that coffee?" Drank it, duh Darc. Get it together, and get your ass to S.H.I.E.L.D before Fury tells Stark to invite something to wipe your memory, so he can fire you.

Half-asleep and looking like a hot mess more then usual, she ran out of the apartment, silently cursing Jane's tendency to sleep at HQ while working on her theories and research.

Somehow, Nick Fury didn't kill her.

He only gave her his infamous stare-down that made her wish she was dead. Him not talking, was worse then him yelling….which he did quite a lot, especially around her. Fury was nice and all, but he took his job seriously, which made sense. So she made a note to bring him his favorite cinnamon flavored coffee tomorrow, extra early, with extra cream.

Jane swept by, looking fan-fucking-tabulous as usual, even though it was clear she still hadn't had a shower, and was in day-old clothing. "Hey! I tried calling you, to make you were up – didn't you hear your phone?"

Her phone. Her phone. Darcy's blood pressure rose a little, before she managed to get a hold of an outburst she was sure would turn even Stark red in embarrassment. "Uhh, no, not really. I must've misplaced it, y'know, somewhere. It's probably underneath a pizza box or something. Er, can I get your phone, just in case, though? Maybe someone around here picked it up."

True to Jane fashion, she handed over the her phone easily, wishing her good-luck in finding it.

Just because she worked for a non-official, not-really-existing government didn't mean she rolled in cash, after all. Leaning back in her chair, she decided to give calling her phone a try – it went to voice mail.

Darcy sighed.

And then a text message came.

Now, what kind of responsible adult loses something as…precious as their phone?

Her eyebrows rose in surprise, before knitting in confusion; biting her lip, she responded, trying not to huff in mild offense. Uhm, adults who aren't paid for overtime? Listen, I don't really care how you got it – but, I kinda really need it back.

No, it didn't sound pathetic begging for your own phone at all.

How about we have a little trade?

Blinking, her nose scrunched as she turned a little in her seat – to seem productive to the agents walking by – while trying to not be startled by the stranger on the other end of the textual line. Still…she was intrigued.

God, she was hopeless. What kind of trade?

Surprise me.

For a moment, Darcy wasn't sure what she could do trade; anything she wouldn't mind letting go of wasn't worth anything. And, well, it wasn't like she had any money. But, being the creative, if only mildly unusual and utterly random ball of awkward that she was – an idea came to mind. Taking a quick look around, she closed the door to the meager 'office' was in, her heart beating against her ribs.

Biting her lip to keep from laughing at the sheer outrageousness of this situation, she lifted up both her shirt and bra, and snapped a quick picture of the girls to send. Frankly, she wouldn't mind having a smaller pair, but, they had their uses.

Darcy quickly sent the picture message before she could change her mind – and her lapse in judgment did not go unrewarded.

Though she did not get another message back during her hellish long hours at work, her phone was on the doorstep of the flat when she got home, in a box, with a hand-written letter attached.

You showed me yours, so, it's only polite that I show you mine. Enjoy your new background.

— LL