((Still easing in. I'm always trying to get a better hang of Cap, hopefully in this one I can manage broody without falling into tropes. Which is really my biggest pet peeve with my own work these days, veering away from the cliches. I think this is why building a crossover world is so appealing, leaving the familiar lands this fandom tends to settle into. Hopefully I can pull it off, really I just write to entertain my own weirdo brains. ANYWAY, here have some meandering.))

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Chapter 2

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Someone was knocking on the shop door. This wasn't too terribly unusual, in and of itself. What was unusual was that the person -kept- knocking, intent rolling off the door frame in waves that even the most idiotic of supernaturals couldn't miss. Despite a million and one protections against wandering eyes, this person kept knocking, which could only mean one thing: Aziraphale had known they were coming...at least at some point, he had. Alas, sometimes he sported the short-term memory of a large colander.

"...Yes?" He asked, pushing up his spectacles as he opened the front door, light penetrating the dusty innards of his shop. A very tall man and a very short young woman stood outside, the latter smiling brightly, and the former already eying the stacks of comic books looming behind the tweed-clad angel. Aziraphale's first instinct was to hiss protectively, in a manner that would make Crowley proud. He manages to stop himself in time, though.

"Hi! Darcy Lewis, we spoke on the phone?" The young, clearly American girl tells him, and he reaches up, touching his forehead, blinking furiously.

"Oh! Yes, Anathema told you where to snoop me out. Half a moment..." He turns to go back inside, and then looks back, fixing her tall princely oaf of a boyfriend with a sharp look, "They're not for sale," Aziraphale informs him firmly, before heading into his back room. He had, in fact, known a week ago that a newly indoctrinated Witch, with excellent references, had called at some point, and as such he had set aside a copy of a not-uncommon, yet perplexedly still difficult to find tome for her. He hands it to Darcy outside, her small hands wrapping around the worn book reverently enough to please the stuffy old bloke.

"Thank you so much..."

"I warn you," He hesitates, thinking a moment, before nodding to himself, deciding that yes, telling her 'things' was really all right. He was pretty sure Anathema hadn't told these people what he was, exactly, anyway, "Most of those you're looking for. They're not much for the black and white, good and evil, sort of thing. In fact if you told them humanity was in trouble, most would probably heave a sigh of relief," He smiles, ruefully, at the utterly confused look on the handsome fellow's face. Aziraphale could swear he's seen him somewhere before. Perhaps some American film poster, he's got the jawline and all. "If there are powers to be fought, best entice them in a manner to which they're accustomed. Don't go bringing up 'debts to humanity' and 'the world needs you'. They shall laugh in your faces."

"Gotchya," Darcy gives him a wee salute, "We'll remember that, thank you, again, very much."

He watches as they walk away, chuckling a little to himself as he turns to go back inside, overhearing the tall fellow ask her what the devil sort of people were they going to talk to, exactly. Humans, they were just wonderful, really.

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"I'm feeling way more out of my depth than usual," Steve confesses to her, as they sit just inside a small pub near their hotel that evening, greasy wrappers of vinegary fried cod and chips on the table between them. Darcy looks up from the pages of the book she's been so graciously gifted, carefully turning the pages, her greasy fingers guarded by napkins, grinning wryly, even as her eyes are full of sympathy.

"Already, Cap? That's no good," Darcy sighs, shutting the simply -fascinating- tome for the moment and reaching over, wiping crumbs from his chin with the napkin still in her hand, "What did Coulson actually tell you, about this mission?"

"He threw around words like 'ethereal' and 'reclusive', and implied that I'd be working to get SHIELD on the good side with folks kinda like Thor," He looks a little bashful, rubbing his chin himself, and it makes a warmth twist around in Darcy's chest. "Am I off?"

"Not really, he just wasn't as specific as he could have been," She assures him, taking a drink of her somewhat neglected beer, "They're like Thor in that most of them are thought to only exist in legends. So in other words...magic. Supernatural. Bound to make you seriously question some shit." Darcy reaches over, patting his hand as he winces.

"...But like Dr. Foster says about Thor and Asgard, it's all just...magic being science that we don't understand yet, yeah?" Steve asks, and Darcy can tell from his expression that he needs something solid to grasp onto right now, in this moment. But she also doesn't want to lie to him, because, she realizes, he's readily taking her word. Rolling with the weird, as always. Then, recalling that Jane had mentioned something about Captain America 'being a good Catholic boy about some stuff', she decides to betray a confidence, for the good of Steve's sanity.

"Not all of it," She admits, biting her lip, "But if it makes you feel any better? That guy we got this book from was totally an honest-to-god angel." Steve pauses in his confusion, processing that. Darcy counts it a win when he smiles again, and maybe he's just a little brain-broken when he does, but hey, it's a smile, and it totally counts.

"...Well, all right then."

Darcy's smile softens further, keeping her hand on his for a bit. She realizes how complacent she's become with these kinds of things in the past year, and it's only partially thanks to Thor. Really, the big lug was just an opening act to the stage production of weirdness that was her adult life. She'd experienced personally the depth of his brother's moral ambiguity and emotional instability, and watched as a race of elves tried to burn away the world. Steve's experience was, hopefully, not to be as traumatic as her's had been, but it was still a lot to take in, even if you were a super-soldier, best friends with a man in a metal suit, a giant green rage monster, the god of thunder, and a kid bitten by a radioactive spider. Weird science was one thing. Gods and demons and faeries and spirits were another entirely.

"Look, this is all kind of new to me too, but I promise you, it's all real," She assures him, in her best comforting voice. There'd been a time when comforting, kind, those were the last things in her arsenal of dealing with people. Darcy's grown a bit recently, which hey, she can tell her shrink all about when she gets back. "And from what I'm told, it's a lot less concerned about us than we fear, so..."

"How do you know this, all of a sudden?" He asks her the inevitable question, looking her in the eye now, seeming somewhat steadier with the knowledge that at least, maybe, the mythology he'd been raised to believe in as a child might actually be up there too, "I mean, always noticed you were smart," He tells her, and that kinda feels good, "But you were Miss Foster's lab assistant last I saw you, and now you've got your nose in a dusty book about fairytales," The corners of his lips are turning up as he says it, and Darcy finds she's okay telling this guy just about anything.

"...Well," She sighs, "...The short answer I'm willing to share?" He nods, "...When we went back to Tromso, finally, for our equipment, and the whole Malekith shit went down, I was..." She pauses, thinking, sipping her beer again, "Compromised, as they'd say back at work. Indwelt, as they'd say in other less professional circles, which is a way more accurate term," She swallows, shaking her head, "...One good thing the bitch who inhabited my body left me with, though, was her knowledge of myth and legend, and what was really there in all the wacky realms. And hey," She coughs on a mirthless laugh, "If you're gonna almost kill your best friend against your will, might as well get something useful out of it, yeah?"

"...That's horrible," Steve frowns, his hand suddenly turning, palm-up, fingers wrapping around hers. Darcy sighs, smiling a little.

"We won in the end," She maintains, squeezing his hand right back. It was a nice hand. Steady and big and warm.

"Still..." He looks at her carefully, watching as she drains her pint, and it's oddly comforting. As opposed to similar looks she'd gotten from coworkers, or even from Thor sometimes, wondering if something hurt, or murderous, or broken, lurked behind her stare. No, Steve looked at her like Jane did, or even Coulson did: As if he was just a friend, making sure she was okay. Mind, he didn't know EVERYTHING she'd been through, but trying to kill Jane was pretty much the worst of it, "I mean, I'm curious, but I bet you don't wanna tell me what else you might've pulled while someone else was controlling you."

"...And the fact that you didn't look me up before this mission, with your clearance level, and all? Puts you higher up on my list of favorite people," Darcy grins, shaking her head, "Ahhh Steve, you and I are gonna get along great on this crazy mission, I can tell," He smiles again, "So yeah, after they'd determined that knowledge was all I still had in my head, SHIELD put me in contact with certain other branches," Darcy shrugs, "Honestly, I've always wanted to be really good at something specific, instead of all over the place. I -am- smart, proud of it, but kinda lacked, you know, a -thing-. So I'm kinda thankful for the bitch and all the supernatural shit she shot into my head, cause I rock at it now."

"That's...a good way to be," Steve suddenly frowns down at his fish and chips, stuffing another handful into his face, and Darcy bites her lip, watching him, until he looks up again. The rueful smirk returns, "Don't mind me, y'just. Reminded me that I've been kind of impossible to live with back home lately," He admits to her, "And...why? Because I got my best friend back from the dead and Peggy had a full life, with kids and grandkids? Meanwhile you've had someone inside your head, who tried to make you KILL your best friend, and you're excited about the job prospects they left behind..."

"No, don't do that," Darcy shakes her head firmly, hair flopping in her face, "Trust me man, I've got plenty of shit I'm working through. Plus you forgot to mention the little thing about you being asleep for seventy years, that's kind of a big deal..."

"Less than you'd think, at least these days..." Steve admits, surprising her a little, "I mean, when I think of the things that bother me now...they're not actually all that modern," He shrugs, "Figuring out my phone, getting used to more cussing in public by people who aren't soldiers... McDonald's..." He grins again, "That's nothing. Having the shine of the Army, governments, taken away... underhanded transactions...secrets. Wars that could've been avoided. Those aint new under the sun, Darcy," He dips his head, "Woulda happened to their super soldier anyway, now or then."

"Still. Being able to rationally articulate something doesn't necessarily mean you're dealing," Darcy points out bluntly, though her voice is kind. "I rock at self-analysis. Actually dealing is a whole other beast."

"You might have a point there," Captain America allows, sighing. "Ahhh, sorry, guess I kinda carried my mood along with me." He reaches up, rubbing the bridge of his nose, and Darcy squeezes his hand again.

"Let it all out, man, road trips are purging forces of nature, even if we are working," She declares, setting down an empty pint glass, "And if you're hanging on to anything, well... Let's just say some of our targets might poke at your damage. Fair warning."

"And yet, they thought I'd be perfect for this," He chuckles, and Darcy grins.

"Because you go with the madness around you..." She pauses, once more wondering if she should share this bit of information already, or at all. But again, Steve Rogers looks like he could use another pick me up. Heaven forbid he actually ask anything of her, Darcy wonders if she'd ever be able to say no to that face. "We're um, heading to Ireland next, after some more business here. I thought you might like to know..." She reaches into her voluminous satchel bag, rummaging for a bit, before finding the slip of paper. "SHIELD tracked down your only living relatives some time ago...yanno, in case you washed up with 'em," She grins, at the incredulous look on his face, "...Your father's brother stayed in the homeland. You've got a cousin still alive, Rebecca..." Darcy licks her lips, pressing the paper into his hand, "And almost all her children and grandchildren live in County Kerry. We could...we could stop in. Say hi...they know about you, at least that you're Captain America..."

"Yeah? Becca? We wrote letters as kids..." He looks up from the scribbled names and addresses, face bright for the first time since he first said hello to her on the tarmac, and Darcy feels something tighten in her chest, her smile widening in response. "I mean...if they'd want me coming around..."

"I'd think they would," She's quick to assure him, "And...well, work's gonna keep us in that part of Ireland for a while I figure, you'll have plenty of time to reforge some family ties, yeah?" His grin and the vulnerability in those blue eyes of his, together, could melt a heart of stone, Darcy's sure of it. It's certainly getting to her's.

"Thanks, Darcy..." And he means it so much, it almost hurts.

"...Hey, I just like seein' you smile, big guy."

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