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Disclaimer: I don't own stuff. Ugh.
The second time that Steve and Darcy run into each other, it is at one of Tony's parties. A big, lavish affair, in a big, lavish ballroom, that Steve hates and wishes he were anywhere else.
He is stuffed into his military dress uniform, slightly too warm, with a glass of champagne that, even were he minded that way, will not get him drunk.
He'd rather have a beer, but Tony insisted that champagne is the way to go at these sort of things.
At least he doesn't have to make a speech tonight.
He and Bruce are standing in a corner, sending furtive glances at Pepper, who they know will force them into dancing with some trust fund barbie doll brat at the first chance she gets, and desperately ducking the advances of women over Bruce's age, and less than half of Steve's, if he is counting the time he spent frozen.
Some random duchess that Tony's probably hooked up with in the past is leaning up against the table, openly displaying her cleavage for all to see, and trying to cajole Steve into dancing with her, when Darcy rocks up and plants a kiss on his cheek. The duchess's mouth falls open and she storms off in a huff.
Which of course, had been Darcy's intention.
Bruce is trying, and failing not to laugh, and casts a small wave at the pair of them, leaving and heading straight for the bar.
"Wretched bitch. All she wants is to get in your very crisp pants, Cap." Steve mutters something uncomplimentary under his breath. Darcy giggles.
"I think people forget you were a soldier." She sniggers, and covers her bright red lips with a dainty hand. Steve grins, and sips his champagne. Running his eyes over Darcy, he first clocks the deep red velvet of her dress, which would be tacky on anyone but her. Then he zones in on the way it gathers under her bust, and the elbow length sleeves, then flicks his eyes down to the hem at knee level. Tall burgundy heels adorn her feet, bringing her just about level with his chin.
And now he's going to think about anything but the way the material clings to Darcy's curves, and exposes her cleavage, that is somehow classy.
"Nice dress." He says.
"Thanks. Pepper picked it." Darcy wrinkles up her nose adorably and he bites back a chuckle.
"Well, it suits you." She smiles at him, then downs her flute of champagne. He pans his gaze across the room.
"Shit. Miss moneybags is coming back." Darcy says, following his gaze.
Before he can take a breath, his glass is on the table and he and Darcy are spinning across the dance floor gracefully. His mother taught him to waltz as a child, so the steps are ingrained in his muscle memory, and Darcy is keeping up with him, one small hand burning through his uniform, and the other clasped in his own large hand. Darcy shoots him a massive smirk when they make a pass past the duchess, who pouts and flounces off to the bar to be comforted by her husband.
They stay on the floor for the next few songs, conversing easily, and swaying comfortably together, until Pepper forces him to dance with some random woman, who thankfully, isn't as awful as the other, and then another, who is worse.
When he finally gets free of her vice like grip and escapes to the bar, he runs into Tony, who is pleasantly sloshed.
"Steven! How're you?" He slurs happily.
"Pepper made me dance with Lady Kate." Tony winces.
"Eesh. I danced with her once. She pinched my ass and told me I was a nice young boy. Bad luck, capsicle." Tony saunters off, presumably to find Pepper, before Steve could ask him where Darcy was. Clint fills the space as soon as he blinked, and leans against the bar, martini in hand, and Natasha at his elbow.
"She's on the balcony."
The spies promptly vanish.
"Right." Steve says to himself, and makes his way towards the balcony. He finds Darcy leaning against the stonework, purse abandoned on the bench, champagne in hand.
"Hey Steve-o." She is sipping her champagne and gazing out over the gardens.
He leans next to her and waits.
"I danced with a fat bald man, who couldn't leave my ass alone and smelled of gone off cheese!" She spat out suddenly.
He scowled.
"Would you like me to kill him for you?" Darcy throws back her head and laughs.
"Funny, that's what Natasha and Clint said. What did I do, that I have professional badasses offering to commit murder for me, after two meetings?"
Steve thinks.
"You're Darcy." He says simply. She blushes, and looks at her shoes. "Wanna get out of here? I came on my bike." She glances up and nods.
They run right through the middle of the ballroom, attracting some puzzled stares, hop on Steve's bike and drive back to the tower, where they proceed to get into pyjamas, Steve stares at Darcy's socks again(they're blue and have cats on today) and they watch movies until they fall asleep on the over comfy sofa.
thumbs4.e baystatic d/l225/m/mqokWdPs TMhA Darcy's dress
Enjoy, lovely people.