Clint's chance came sooner than he expected. The next day the town was almost destroyed by a massive fire-breathing robot (anyone would think he lived in a comic) and the Big Guy turned into a hammer-wielding God of Thunder. SHIELD higher-ups decided that the research should be returned to Selvig and Dr Foster along with all of their equipment, and so the following day he jumped into one of the vans to – as he told them – lend his muscle to the scientists. The tunnels which had been erected around the crash site were already being broken down and packed into lorries and he was more than content to be forgotten in the hustle and bustle there.
When they reached the damaged town, however, it wasn't much better. Most of the businesses on the main street had no windows whilst others had fire damage, although the gas station had thankfully been extinguished and made safe. Burned out cars had been pulled roughly to one side of the street so that traffic could once more pass through and there were groups of residents inspecting the damage to their individual little slices of life. And even this was serenity when compared to the headquarters of the astrophysicists.
It was barely controlled chaos. Jane Foster was yelling orders at the unloaders, Erik Selvig was directing laden men to various locations and Darcy… well, Darcy just looked a bit lost and overwhelmed. He knew from sneaking a look at her file (Coulson should learn to lock his office door) that she wasn't a scientist like the other two, and so he watched her do the only sensible thing she could: she grabbed her laptop and iPod and slipped through a door which swung gently closed behind her.
He made to follow when he felt a hand on his arm. Dr Foster gave him a quick appraisal before flashing him a smile and – surprisingly nicely considering the tirade she had released only minutes before when something had been dropped with a crunch – gestured to a heavy looking crate and indicated that it needed moving out of the doorway and towards the far side of the room.
For the next hour or so he became her personal fork-lift truck. The research and science guys that Coulson had sent had all the combined strength of a damp paper bag, and the SHIELD heavies were taking down the scaffolding at the crash site. That left him as pretty much the sole lump of muscle available, and Jane certainly gave him a good workout.
His stomach told him that it was well past lunch before the two scientists were happy with the way their equipment had been arranged and they set to unpacking the more delicate pieces from their Styrofoam nests and arranging them all in some sort of complex arrangement of wires and machines that went "ping" occasionally. The SHIELD nerds stood around talking shop with Foster and Selvig, and Clint realised that he hadn't seen Darcy since the door had swung shut behind her. There was a small refrigerator in the open plan kitchenette, and a quick diversion awarded him a couple of ice-cold Dr Peppers before he left the work area in search of her.
The door revealed a set of stairs which he assumed to be the roof access. He checked that no-one was watching (they weren't, but he didn't want interruptions) before ghosting up them.
He supposed later that it really was his fault. He simply couldn't let go of his training even around civilians and so he really ought to have made more noise on his approach. As it was, his passage across the shingle roof, to where he could see her head above the back of one of the old sun loungers, was near-silent. No doubt Natasha would have made even less noise, but he did have more weight to carry and it's not like he was *consciously* stalking the girl…
Still, he did at least have the presence of mind to stop a little way off – he could see she was concentrating on a game – and announce himself with a "Hey…" swiftly followed by a "What the fu..?" as he stared at a couple of Taser wires hooked to his combat vest just before the world went white and disappeared for a while.
He came round slowly, becoming conscious without opening his eyes. Playing possum, he managed to not flinch when something hard, wet and shockingly cold was pressed first to his forehead, then his cheek and finally the side of his neck. He realised it was one of the Dr Pepper cans, which he had evidently dropped when the Taser ran through him, and he had to fight not to smile at how thoughtful Darcy was towards a complete stranger. She was muttering under her breath "Second time within a week. Oh yes, I Taser *all* the hot men. Well done Darcy, you're a real and totally not psychotic catch."
Hot, huh? He stirred and gave a theatrical groan, followed by a genuine one as his head throbbed at the movement. A guiding hand helped him to sit forwards and an arm slung around his shoulders (oh god, now is NOT the time to flex) kept him steady. Not lying on the roof, so she must have somehow moved him onto one of the loungers. She was stronger than she looked, unless she had help… And how he really hoped she hadn't called anyone.
Clint cracked an eye, catching a glimpse of a concerned expression behind a tumbled curtain of soft, dark hair. He let out another groan to test the waters. Her arm tightened fractionally, but he didn't hear any sniggering in the background, so he guessed his bad-ass reputation was safe.
"Dude, I am so sorry, but that was totally your fault for sneaking up on the girl who had *just* helped save the world from giant killer robots and was neck-deep into an epic high score on an intensely awesome game of timed minesweeper." A pause, just long enough to draw a breath, "how're you feeling? Any side effects from Valerie? I really hope you're not a god too, because I don't think I can cope with Tasing two in one week."
Wow, the chick really babbled when she was nervous. It was kinda cute, like all her thoughts just ran out of her mouth and bypassed any filter which might have been in place when she was less freaked out. Wait, had she just called her Taser
"Valerie?" She waved it in front of him, and he was a little worried to see her finger was still on the trigger. He looked down quickly, and hissed as his brain protested the sudden movement, but he was relieved to see that the little hooks had been removed from his clothing. Had she *reloaded* whilst he was laid out at her feet? That was cold. Calculating. Kinda hot… "I guessed who Valerie was, and she made quite an impression. I do not need a second introduction. So how about you put her down, pass me a Dr Pepper and we start again without the application of what feels like a near-fatal dose of electricity?"
She blushed and bit her lip before she carefully placed her Taser on the floor, and Clint suddenly had a vision flash across his minds eye of her pulling that same expression as she worked her body towards orgasm just two nights before. This time, the scent of lavender and warm, sun-kissed flesh was right there and he had to cough and raise one knee as he felt stirrings in his groin. Best not to have to explain that…
"Darcy Lewis, Taser-aim extraordinaire and all-round dogsbody intern. Pleasure to haul you onto a sun lounger. And you are?"
He took her proffered hand and shook it. He couldn't feel any calluses except on the very tips of her fingers – everything about her flesh spoke of softness and indoor living and he relished the sensation. "Clint Barton, better aim than you and SHIELD agent. Pleasure to be sharing said sun-lounger with you". (Ooo, good comeback. Cool but without being a total arse). She flushed slightly again, and stood quickly to transfer to the other lounger. Clint could have laughed, but he didn't want to piss her off. "How'd you get me onto this thing anyway?"
She shrugged and pushed her glasses more firmly onto her nose. "A deadbeat ex-boyfriend who would drink until he couldn't see and lived on the second floor. There were only so many times I could leave him on his own front steps without feeling horrendously guilty". She tossed him one of the cans, and he neatly snagged it from the air whilst his vision swam again.
"Appreciate it, anyway. Sorry about your boyfriend" (yeah, sure he was. An ex-, did that mean she was available?).
"He was a dick. I was young and stupid. He seemed to fit the bad-boy mould." She shrugged again and cracked her can open with a hiss and fizz up of froth. She slurped at the cold foam as it spilled over and down the side, licking the can and sending Clint's brain spiralling towards filth as he imagined what else she could lick so delicately. "It's all in the past and that's firmly where he stays".
They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes. Clint had opened his own can and set about draining it in one go as the thirst worked up over the morning combined with the sun and the shock of the Taser to make his throat as dry as the New Mexico desert. Darcy watched him from behind the fall of her hair, eyes fixed on the flex of his throat as he swallowed, the curled bicep of his arm, and felt about as young and stupid as she had when she'd discovered a certain drunken deadbeat ex-boyfriend had been shagging her roommate behind her back. That was the reason she'd applied for an internship in the middle of nowhere, even though it had nothing to do with her degree.
"So, why'd you come up here anyway? Did they need me downstairs, like, half an hour ago? Wow, only half an hour. You came round faster than Thor." OK, he couldn't stop his smug smile at that.
"Nothing like that – I saw you avoid the hard work and thought you might want a drink after being up here for a while. I know I wanted one, and I didn't want to hang around with Dr Foster in case she found me something else heavy to lift for her. So I thought, you know, two birds with one stone and came to find you." Guilt flashed across her face, and her friendly smile dropped. "I've got a deal for you – I won't tell your boss you've been up here all day, and you don't tell *anyone* that you got the drop on me and knocked me out". She grinned and stuck out her hand again. He reached across the firepit and shook it. Did the contact go on just a little too long? Did that mean something? OK, time to bite the bullet – what was the worst that could happen? He cleared his throat, feeling more nervous than a man who had killed Big Bad Guys should in his position.
"Say, I've not been in town too long. Where's the best place to grab something to eat that doesn't consist of PopTarts and Eggo? I've seen what you've got in your cupboards and you're welcome to join me, if you like" Crap, why had his voice given that weird quiver at the end?
She shot him a sideways look with a smile. "Sure, I know a place that shouldn't have got damaged" her voice sounded…wry? "So it was you, then."
Clint kept his face impassive as he stood and tipped an imaginary hat at her. "I'll pick you up at 6". He took her hand once more and with a slightly cocky smile brushed his lips over the back of her knuckles before turning smartly on his heel and walking off. He managed to wait until he was safely hidden on the stairs before jumping in the air with a fist pump and a grin.