Party Tricks
2
Darcy woke up the next morning thinking about Clint, wishing she hadn't made such a fool of herself. There was something intriguing about him and she hated herself for scaring him off before she had the chance to discover it.
The next several weeks did little to quell her feelings on the matter. It was more a vague feeling that she had missed out on something, like she had driven right by a road she should've turned down.
But she had never seen much of the agent before, and she didn't now.
She considered asking about him, really did, but it would've been out of place. It would've seemed weird, might've raised some flags, or at least some gossip. She didn't want that and she especially didn't want Clint hearing of it.
So she did her job, tried to forget about it. She was mostly successful. It was just the occasional gnaw of regret, the brief thumping of her heart at the mention of Clint or Hawkeye or Agent Barton.
She refused to admit that maybe she had a crush on the guy and maybe it had been developing long before she chatted him up at the most boring party in the history of the universe.
But it was just that: Denial.
She sighed, tearing into her second granola bar. She was having the most awful day ever.
She had woken up an hour late because her alarm clock hadn't made a sound because her power was off because apparently you had to pay those things every month. Who knew? Darcy knew, she just had a huge freakin memory lapse and forgot.
As a result she had a very cold shower, no breakfast (how was she supposed to toast her bagels?), and a generally foul morning.
Things didn't improve much when she got to work. For starters she was pretty damn late, and Jane had a major hissy fit about it. Then some clumsy idiot spilled coffee all over the ridiculously long report she had just finished typing. Seriously, it was like a novel.
Now she was forced to skip lunch to re-do said report, gnawing at granola bars between keystrokes like a starved gerbil.
And if one more person called her Marcy she was going to scream.
Her cell phone quacked from under a pile of paper. She growled under her breath. She was this close to decapitating the next person that bothered her.
Turning on her phone, she saw a text from an unknown number. Actually it was a blocked number, which was just a little more interesting.
She opened it to reveal a picture of none other than Clint. He was flexing one of his arms with a smug smile on his face. The awkward angle and absence of his other arm made it look like he had taken it himself.
The text underneath read: Here's a picture, it'll last longer
Darcy's shock melted into a tingly excitement. She glanced around, like someone might see her smiling like an idiot.
She texted back: Clint?
What gave it away?
She mentally slapped herself. Yeah, that wasn't the dumbest thing she'd ever said but it was up there.
How'd you get my number? she responded.
Shield agent, he said, as if that was a complete explanation.
She nodded to herself, she guessed that made sense. But still... Why the hell was he texting her.
Her phone quacked again, interrupting her thoughts. A little birdy told me you were having a bad day
A smile crept on to her face, then she quickly glanced around conspiratorially. Who would've told him that? Better yet, why would they have told him?
She made a mental note to interrogate Jane later and maybe check her coffee mug for bugs before returning her attention to her phone. She stared at it for several seconds, trying to think of a not-stupid response.
Kind of, she finally keyed in and sent. But the picture helped, Her face twisted in thought and she erased the last part. Well, it had. She typed it again and sent it, sucking in a deep breath.
That was the plan
She pulled the picture up and looked at it again, grinned at the archer's expression. She studied the background. Behind him was a dusty looking tapestry with pots of various shapes and sizes littered around it.
Where are you? she asked, That pot on the right would look killer in my dinky little apartment. After she sent it, she let her head fall on the keyboard of her computer.
It was a very good thing he wasn't right in front of her. She was able to ponder her responses this way and she still managed to sound stupid.
Sorry, classified, he sent back. Gotta go, Darcy. I hope your day gets better.
She started to say it was, but it felt cheesy and fluffy and lame and... Why the hell did he text her?
/thanks/ she sent back and then she tossed her phone away like it was a traitorous piece of electronics.
Her day did get better, but it took her twice as long to type up that report. She couldn't go long without reopening the picture of Clint.
She was so screwed.
Darcy spent the next couple of days wondering who could've contacted Clint about her. She wasn't really very close with anyone in SHIELD except Jane. But she din't think Jane and Clint were even acquainted, much less buddies.
She tried to come at it another way...
Who was Clint tight with? She thought...
And thought...
She figured he was supposed to be cozy with the other Avengers, but it didn't seem that way. Just look at the party, he was like a damn outcast. Or maybe he just liked it that way.
Or maybe her office was bugged.
Well duh, it was SHIELD but she doubted she did anything important enough to warrant them listening in on her life. And that still didn't answer the question of why they would tell Clint and why the hell would he text her?
He was Clint freakin Hawkeye, world's best archer, superhero, guy who she'd made a big ass out of herself in front of.
Also, guy who should be staying far away from her craziness.
Maybe it had been Jane, she was always trying to set her up with guys like she was somehow an expert now that she'd scored a buff dude from another planet or whatever. Which didn't really seem fair since Thor had fallen out of the sky. Literally. Jane didn't do a damn thing except run into the guy. She so should've taken credit for that. Digressing...
Yeah, that seemed like Jane now that she thought about it. And maybe she'd felt guilty for chewing her out that morning. It had to be.
And maybe she and Clint were somehow closer now that she'd hooked up with the hammer wielding guy. Or maybe she'd seen them together at the party.
Maybe both.
But still... Why the hell had he texted her?
Thanks for reading everyone, I hope you continue to follow. Stuff will happen :)
I've been writing on this for quite a while, but It's my first stab at this cast. I was trying to finish before I put it up, but thought "What the heck!," so here you are!
Thanks for the reviews, follows, and favs. Drop me a note and let me know who you think Clint's informant is. :)
Cheers.
