It took a few days, but Darcy found herself a real comfort zone in Sal's gym. The guys found out that she wasn't precious about her training and could take a punch just like the rest of them. She found that there was a real community in the little gym. Everyone helped each other out, from the young kids just starting, to the fighters who competed in the ring, to the older guys who mostly were here to remember the past.
Walking in on a Wednesday morning felt comfortable. All the faces were familiar and there was a lot to be said for a place where everybody knows your name, even if it was a bit of a cliché.
"Darcy!" a voice called out to her from near the change room. She grinned.
And Steve. Steve was a real comfort zone too. He was the only one in the gym who was around her age, and he was there probably more often than she was, which was really saying something. After his initial reluctance, he'd settled down and seemed to really enjoy working with her. To be fair, he wasn't really working with anyone else, as he refused to coach any of the gym's real fighters and always sought advice from the older men, rather than giving it.
It was a real shame, in Darcy's opinion, because he was a great teacher. He was patient and observant and could spot things in her form before she ever noticed it.
"Hey Steve," she greeted him as he jogged up. "How's it going?"
"Just about to get into the ring with Max," he said, gesturing over his shoulder at one of the gym's top fighters. "You up for some sparring later?"
"My body can take it Steve, it's the ego that's the issue," she said with a grin.
Steve was blushing. After two weeks seeing him nearly every day, she knew exactly why and couldn't help but laugh. "You're looking for the joke in there about taking my body, aren't you Steve?"
"What! No! I wouldn't…" he paused, rubbing the back of his neck, "well I wouldn't have said it out loud." He finished sheepishly.
Darcy rolled her eyes, "get into the ring, you boy scout," she gave him a little push and set herself up behind a speed bag with a good view.
It was an education just watching him work. That man was almost inhuman in his abilities. She had asked him once why he didn't fight professionally, but his eyes had sort of clouded over and he had changed the subject, so she didn't ask again. She'd seen the look before. It didn't take a genius to know that Steve was ex-military. The olive green duffle bag was a dead give-away, even without what she knew about men with that straight-backed posture and distance in their eyes.
Mostly, he was really easy going around her though. She got the feeling that he didn't have too many friends. He never really talked about people from work or about doing anything over the weekend. From Darcy's perspective, that was a crime. He was funny and kind, and he still blushed to the tips of his ears every time he tried to make an off color joke.
And, let's not pretend here, the man was pretty easy on the eyes.
Darcy just could not figure him out, sometimes. A guy that gorgeous ought to be a lady killer with the kind of confidence that comes from never having had to work to get a woman. Not that Darcy was volunteering to help him realize that. No faster way to ruin a gym than with sex. Plus, she liked that Steve was still unable to let her finish a dirty joke without interjecting a comment about respect. It was just rare, in her experience.
He certainly wasn't the sort of guy she typically spent time with. But while Darcy had been a bit reckless as a teenager, and had done her fair share of running with the wrong crowd, she was finding that respectful and polite didn't necessarily mean boring.
Maybe she was maturing. She'd have to tell Jane.
Usually, he saw Darcy mid-morning at the gym. He looked forward to it. She treated him like any other guy, teasing and joking and comfortable with him in a way that just made everything easier. It did twist his conscience, every now and again, that as far as she knew, he was just like any other guy. But secrets were sometimes necessary, and it meant his time, at the gym and with her, was safe and sacred.
That sense of safety and comfort she carried with her was part of the reason why he had a deeply unsettled feeling when she didn't show up one Monday. He told himself that it was nothing to worry about. Everyone needs a day off. But he was anxious. He carried on with his day, only half aware as he ran errands and sat through a weekly meeting at SHIELD.
He was still feeling tense when 7:00 rolled around, so he went back to the gym. Just to work off some energy, he told himself, not to see if she was there. He could admit, after he looked up from the bag to see her walk through the door, that he was lying to himself. He was here to see her. It felt like he could finally let out his breath as she called to him across the gym.
"Steve," she called out as she dropped her bag on a bench, "You really need to get a life."
He grinned and walked over, his hands taped and his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, "But then who would be here to keep you in line?" he said, as he began to unwrap his hands, "Where've you been? You're not usually this late." He tried to keep the concern out of his voice. She didn't know, nor did she need to, how important the normalcy and routine she brought to his life was. Lord knows he wasn't finding it anywhere else.
She rolled her eyes, "No need for the third degree Steve, I just finally started my actual job today. Not all of us can spend our whole days in the gym."
"Oh hey! That's great!" he said in genuine excitement, completely ignoring her teasing dig at his lack of a social life. He really enjoyed the way she always seemed kind of frustrated when he didn't react. It was probably fairly unkind of him to think so, but one of the great things about Darcy was that he knew she wouldn't care, and would probably laugh. "Where are you working?"
"Well, in a lab actually." She started to explain as she pulled off her sweatpants and dug out her equipment, "I did a summer internship a few years ago with this astrophysicist. Like, the really young crazy smart change the world kind of scientist. I was around when some…stuff went down, and I know her work and her equipment pretty well, so when she decided to come work in New York and was told she could hire any assistant she wanted, she called me up."
He paused for a moment, the way she spoke about "stuff going down" concerned him for a moment. But then he shook it off. This was the real world, which was filled with normal people. Stuff going down didn't mean the same thing as it did when Natasha or, god forbid, Tony said it.
"Science hey," he raised an amused eyebrow at her, "Never would have pegged you for the type."
"Well, to be fair, what I do mostly isn't science. It's computer stuff and fixing mechanical things and ordering my boss around to make sure she eats and sleeps."
"Ah," said Steve, grinning, "That makes a lot more sense. You are really bossy."
She punched him lightly in the arm. "All right hot shot, let's see if you can put your money where your mouth is."
He always pulled his punches when he was sparing. There were one or two fighters in the gym who were lightning fast and could give him a real workout, but even then they couldn't compete with him for strength.
Sparring with Darcy, though, was an exercise in control of the highest order, both physical and mental. She was tough, there was no doubt about that. She could take a punch and it was by no means a pleasant experience to take her fist to the face. And boy did she like to shit talk in the ring.
But she was tiny, really, at least compared to him. She didn't have the reach to get around him, didn't have the strength to take him head on. So he pulled his punches and took it a bit slow and tried to concentrate on helping her improve rather than defending himself.
Which is how he got the first uppercut straight to the jaw that he could remember in years.
She hadn't even been mildly apologetic about it, dancing around the ring in mock triumph as he stretched his jaw and winced. Sometimes he wished he was just a little less super or maybe that he could let go just a bit of his firmly ingrained belief that even in the ring, you just don't ever really try to hit a girl.
Mostly because he knew she could see him holding back. Darcy gave everything her absolute all. He wished he could do the same.
He shook the thought away as they stepped into the ring. That would mean Darcy figuring out that he wasn't exactly normal, and then he wouldn't be Steve, or Steve-O, or even "hey looser" with that silly grin of hers. He'd be the Captain. And this was the one place in New York that Captain American wasn't welcome.
It was dark by the time they finished up that night, and it was only Sal left in the gym as they packed up their gear and pulled on their jackets.
"See ya Sal," called Darcy from near the door, and "Night Steve!"
"Hold up!" hollered Sal from the office. "Now lord knows you can take care of yourself Lewis, but your father would have my neck if he knew I let you out of here alone after dark."
Darcy rolled her eyes and made to object, but Sal was too fast.
"Steven," he ordered, "Make yourself and your freakish size useful, walk the lady home."
In that precise moment, the look on Sal's face reminded her eerily of her father. She had to grin.
"If it'll make you feel better Sal, I'll make sure Steve gets home safe."
Steve grinned at her, and took her jauntily proffered elbow easily enough, even if his height made it a bit awkward.
"Aw, get outta here you nutballs." Sal called fondly after them as they left.
Steve dropped her arm the moment they were around the corner, and she was about to accuse him of being skittish, but instead she found he had slipped her bag off her shoulder and onto his.
"Now hold on a minute Steven," she said in her best no nonsense tone. "I don't actually need you to walk me home and I certainly don't need you to carry my bag." She stopped walking, her arms crossed and a firm expression on her face.
"I know," said Steve, looking at her evenly. "I'm not doing it because you can't. I'm walking you home because while I know you can hold your own, anyone looking at you on the street wouldn't, and far better not to get into a fight you didn't plan to be in, right?"
She huffed, irrationally irritated. It had been a long day, full of paperwork and workplace safety lectures followed by a lot of science related craziness from Jane. "I'll give you the whole 'I look like a target' issue Steve, but how is the world going to move forward if I use you as a shield every time I walk home."
"Let someone else be the test case," he said firmly. "Besides, two against one is always better odds."
He was unflappable. It was really pissing her off.
"Well how do you explain the bag thing then? How is that not just misogyny parading around cloaked in chivalry?" She felt like her undergrad women's studies prof would be proud.
And, to her immense satisfaction, Steve did look a little bit chastised. "You know, I've never thought of it in quite that way before," he said. "And by all means, take it back. It's just that…well."
He paused.
"Spit it out Steve," but her tone wasn't unkind.
"Well, I'm stronger than you, and this thing is heavy. I watched you work your guts out in the gym, and I thought, hey, she's worked hard enough today, and it's easier for me to carry that brick, so why not help out?"
She would argue about the strength thing, but it was so patently true that it wasn't worth it. And she felt like taking the bag back now would be throwing his friendly and well meant gesture back in his face.
And it was Steve. Somehow, the old fashioned manners just fit so well into who he was, and Darcy liked who he was just fine. So she sighed and waved her hand in a carry on sort of gesture.
Steve grinned at her and kept walking. A moment or two passed in silence as they walked, before Steve asked her "where are we headed?"
"Not far, actually. Just three blocks more and then one block to the left."
"You're kidding," Steve exclaimed.
"Uh, no?" she looked up at him quizzically, "Why would I be?"
"I'm pretty sure I live just one block over from you."
"Huh," she said, "Neat. We're neighbours."
"I'm glad," he said, "Don't really know too many of my neighbours. Definitely don't like any of them as much as you."
It should have been flirtatious, should have had her putting up her guard. But it was so genuinely Steve that she couldn't help but laugh.
"There are people Steve Rogers doesn't like?" she asked in mock astonishment.
"Don't tell anyone" he said with a grin. And then he took a run, planted one hand on a stone wall running along the street, and flung himself up onto it, two bags and all, in one smooth leap. She laughed, because he looked like nothing more than an overgrown ten year old, walking with his arms out for balance down the wall.
"Show off," she said, elbowing him as he swung down and fell in step beside her. "But I'm calling dibs on you for the zombie apocalypse. You're on my team."
"The what?" Steve looked genuinely confused.
"Zombie apocalypse? You are clearly really good at parkour. It's generally acknowledged to be a really valuable skill in the post zombie world."
"I'll make you a deal," he said, "I'll be on your team and teach you some, uh, parkour, if you educate me about this whole zombie apocalypse thing."
"Seriously, you're going to teach me about jumping over things and you're going to let me immerse you in zombie media?"
Steve nodded seriously, although his face was an odd combination of amused and apprehensive.
"Deal," she said with enthusiasm. "If you walk me to my door," she continued as they approached her building, "I'll lend you your first DVD."
"Uh…" Steve stumbled, neck flushing, "I don't actually have a DVD player."
"Oh man," said Darcy, "We are really going to have to start from the beginning."