I'll be the first to admit that this chapter kind of got away from me a little bit. Unlike Physical Phenomena, however, I'm reining this one in and the later parts will be more of a return to form. As I really like how this chapter came out, I'm posting it as is. If you have any questions or comments, you can leave them below or stop by my tumblr at .com and let me know there. Thanks for reading!
This Strange and Beautiful Thing
Darcy bangs on the door to Steve's apartment. It's not that he's been avoiding her since that dream (which was admittedly intense and, frankly, pretty damn hot), but he's seemed a bit…distant, for lack of a better word, she thinks. And as Steve isn't exactly mister talks about his emotions to begin with she can only guess at what's been going through his head. So it's time to cut that behavior off at the knees, Darcy knows, which is what leads to her practically pounding down his door a week later.
She can hear Steve's heavy footsteps on the other side, and resists the urge to tap her feet on the tiled hall floor. He's hesitating, she thinks, because he's got to be standing right on the other side of the door and it's not opening, not yet. Eventually Steve opens the door, looking nervous and sheepish and all other sorts of adjectives he has no real reason to look like. He opens his mouth to say something, but Darcy cuts him off with one pointedly upraised finger.
"Just answer me this," she says. "Do you or do you not have any control over what you dream about?"
"Darcy—"
"Yes or no."
Steve's silent for a moment, his arms spread out and gripping either side of the door. "No," he finally admits, not meeting her stare.
"So then why the hell do you think I'd be offended by dreaming something like that?" Darcy questions, which brings his eyes back up to her. She's standing there with her arms crossed over her chest, eyebrows arched above her glasses and hoping like hell that he gets the message. "For the record, I'm flattered," she says.
"And w—if it happens again?" Steve asks, releasing his grip on the doorframe.
Darcy notices the small catch in his voice, but chooses to focus on the question, not the words. She can at least provide an answer to that. "Then we deal with it as it comes."
Now it's Steve's turn to send an eyebrow arching skyward. Darcy quickly rubs a hand over her forehead, hoping like hell it's enough of a distraction from the blush she can feel blooming on her cheeks. "Okay, bad choice of words," she says. "But you know what I mean. So, we're cool?"
Steve just offers a wry grin and nods. "We're good."
Darcy claps her hands together. "Good! Now that that's out of the way, what are your plans for the night?"
"Excuse me?"
"It's not a difficult question."
"No, I know. You just caught me off guard there. What's going on?" he asks.
Darcy resists the urge to smirk at the worried look on Steve's face, knowing that he's not going to see this one coming. "The roommates and I are having a little get-together tonight. Noshes, drinks, couple of movies, real casual sort of thing. I was wondering if you wanted to come over and hang out with us?"
Steve's lips purse briefly, but then he shakes his head. "I don't really think I'd be good company right now. And chances are I won't understand most of the things you're talking about anyway."
"You mean the shadowy government agency that set you up with this cushy place didn't give you a plausible back story in case anyone ever asks you any questions?" Darcy crosses her arms over her chest, preparing to fight him on this one. She's of the firm belief that he needs to get out of his apartment and see the world, at least a little bit. Movie night at her apartment is a pretty tame step in the right direction.
"The backstory's not the problem," Steve says. "It's if someone asks questions that the backstory doesn't quite cover. I'm sure S.H.I.E.L.D. would love to have to run interference because I stepped in it."
"That's what I'll be there for," Darcy fires back, resisting the urge to call Steve out on being one of the most stubborn fuckers she's ever had to deal with. "Okay, I'm going to lay it out as I'm seeing it," she says. "S.H.I.E.L.D. may be doing a good job at catching you up with all of the historical events that have happened since the War, but I'm betting that they haven't given you the slightest hint as to how to interact with people your own age in the 21st century."
He opens his mouth to rebut the claim, but then he pauses, looking off into the distance. "Thought so," Darcy continues. "What I'm offering is a sort of…controlled setting, nothing loud or, well, overly crazy, where you can hang out with people your own age who have no clue about who you are or what you've been through, which is probably a nice change from the people at the shadowy government agency that you normally see. And the best part is you don't have to tell them anything you don't want them to know." She shrugs, tossing her last hat into the ring. "Worse comes to worse you get a free dinner out of it."
Steve looks warily down at her, but Darcy suspects that she's wearing him down a bit. Even though they haven't really known each other all that long technically (though if she includes the time dreaming and sleeping and time spent frozen they've actually known each other for years, which is the strangest sort of thought) she's a bit amazed that she can tell what Steve's face looks like when he's warming up to an idea. "Can I leave whenever I want?" he finally asks.
Darcy nods. "Absolutely. Though I do hope you stick around for at least a little while."
She doesn't breathe until he nods in agreement. Steve disappears for a second, then comes back wearing his coat and locks the door behind him. Before they hit the stairwell Darcy stops mid-stride, then turns around back to him. "Just one last thing," she says.
"What is it?" Instead of speaking, Darcy reaches out and begins to quickly unbutton his shirt. "Hey!"
"You look too tightly wound up for a movie night with a bunch of twenty somethings who will most likely not be sober in the space of an hour," Darcy says, unbuttoning the plaid shirt and then pulling that and the t-shirt underneath out of his pants. "There, that's it." She steps back and raises her hands in supplication. "You can at least fake being relaxed like that."
Steve looks down at himself and frowns. "It looks a bit sloppy."
"You're still better dressed than any of the guys who are going to be there, I promise."
When they arrive back at Darcy's place the night descends into a whirlwind of introductions. This girl's the assistant to a talent agent who herds a bunch of models convinced that celery and Adderall are legitimate food groups, another guy bakes vegan muffins, and someone else is a bike messenger with a perpetually bruised calf. There's the boyfriend and girlfriend duo that Darcy's not quite sure what they do for a living, but they pay their share of the rent so no one asks questions. There are a few other people drifting around who may or may not live there, but Darcy thinks it's likely that they wandered up from the art studio on the first floor. It wouldn't be the first time it's happened, she explains. "Which is why I'm the only one with the key to the lock on my bedroom door," she grumbles under her breath. No one asks Steve any questions that he can't answer in a convincingly modern way, and Darcy can't help but feel relieved for him. Once the introductions are done she grabs two beers out of the creaky old refrigerator in the kitchen, shoves Steve down into a corner of the couch, and settles down next to him.
"So far, so good?" she asks, clinking her beer bottle against his.
"Too early to tell."
Darcy just nods. She hopes that Steve's at least willing to stick it out for a little while and possibly, though it is a bit of a radical thought, enjoy himself just a little bit. She gets that it's hard for him. He's a freakin' modern day Rip van Winkle who woke up in a world that's progressed further than his wildest imaginations and everyone that he knew is long gone. But he's also got this amazing second chance in front of him that's just going to waste (possibly. She doesn't know what he does every single hour of the day, but there's the sneaking suspicion that he's not taking advantage of all the wonderful things the 21st century has to offer and instead spending far too much time with the punching bags at his gym). So if she has to drag Steve kicking and screaming out of his apartment for the night – metaphorically, at least – then that's what she's going to do.
But Darcy also knows that she may be slightly out of her depth in this situation, so she's got to tread somewhat carefully. And if S.H.I.E.L.D. was to find out what she's doing? Aw, hell, they still owe her for the iPod after the New Mexico incident, so fair's fair.
Jess, the modeling agent's assistant and the old college friend who had convinced her to take the room in the apartment, wobbles over to the coffee table on a pair of absurdly high heels and plonks down a giant pot full of something. "Dinner's up," she says as she straightens up and pushes some wayward blond curls out of her eyes.
"What is it?" Darcy asks, leaning forward to sniff at the pot.
"Barrett says it's supposed to be chili."
"Supposed to be?"
Jess just shrugs, and totters off to check out the latest face that's wandered into their apartment. Darcy grabs two bowls from the mismatched stack and dishes up some chili for them. "Well, bottoms up," she says, handing one over to Steve.
After about twenty seconds of chewing Steve grimaces, and swallows roughly. "It's…interesting," he says with a wince. "Is that what chili's supposed to taste like?"
"God, no." Darcy makes a disgusted face of her own and chokes her own mouthful down. While she's tempted to throw her bowl across the room and drop the rest of the pot out the window, she can't take the risk of her roommates or any of the other wandering souls getting poisoned. At least the serum would make Steve somewhat immune she thinks with a loopy internal giggle. "Hey, Jess!" she yells instead, waving her back over. When she gets there Darcy pushes the bowl into her hands. "Try this. Now."
Jess takes one small bite and they watch as her eyes go wide and her jaw stops working. She lunges forward, grabbing for a nearby napkin and spitting the rest of the mouthful into there. "What the hell is that?" she gasps.
"No idea." Darcy shakes her head. "Did Barrett flunk out of culinary school again?"
"Whatever that," Jess points her finger sternly at the pot, "is, it is not acceptable at my party." She glances wildly around the room, her eyes landing on Steve. "Do you like Chinese food?" she asks him.
"Uh, sure."
Luckily Jess is predictable and Darcy knows exactly what she's thinking. "I'll start taking up a dinner collection," Darcy says, pushing herself to her feet.
Jess grabs the pot, looking a lot steadier on her heels than she previously did. But Jess always managed to wear the high shoes easily, a talent that Darcy kind of envied. "I will make this disappear. Forever."
"Any preferences for your dinner?" Darcy asks Steve, who's still sitting in the corner of the couch and looking slightly bewildered.
He looks up at her with a wry grin. "I think the last time I had Chinese food was in 1943," he says in a low voice, and Darcy responds with a grin of her own.
"I'll pick out some of the classics for you then," she says, clapping him on the shoulder.
A crashing noise echoes down the hall from the direction of the kitchen, followed up by voices yelling back and forth. Darcy just smirks. "With any luck she's setting the rest of Barrett's experiments on fire."
After the rough start the rest of the night mellows out into a more relaxed event. Various food containers speared with chopsticks are spread across many of the flat surfaces of the apartment, the lights have been lowered to a dim but comfortable level, and the wandering guests have all settled down onto couches, chairs, and cushions. The first movie was chosen by the boyfriend-girlfriend duo (Steve has a hard time telling which one is which by appearance alone; they look startlingly identical to each other), with the images bright and clear across the large flat screen set up against one wall.
Darcy bites down on her lip and stares hard at the screen, squinting in the darkness. "Do you have any idea what's going on?" she leans over and asks Steve. They've chosen one of those artsy sorts of flicks that feature long, drawn out shots of people walking and discussing deep things that even though it's in English some subtitles wouldn't be a bad idea to understand what exactly is happening on the screen. Not exactly her style; absurd humor's more her speed. She wouldn't mind something that at least has a bit of a plot to it either.
"Not a clue," he replies, and Darcy exhales with relief.
"Thank god, I'm not the only one who can't make heads or tails of this mess."
"It'll be over in twenty minutes," Jess whispers from her position on the overstuffed cushion by Darcy's feet. "I call next pick."
"Aim for something lively," Darcy suggests, levering herself to her feet. "Time for more beer. Steve, you want another?" she asks as she stumbles over his legs to head out of the room.
"That'd be great, thanks. Anything to make the movie go faster," he blurts out.
"Good man," Jess snickers.
Darcy drifts off during the second movie, the only thing keeping her upright being the arm that she's got braced on Steve's shoulder. Steve manages to stick it out a while longer (this movie, while a bit on the silly side, at least has a clear story and he's surprised to find he's actually kind of amused by it) but even he can't hold out as the clock ticks closer to midnight. Soon enough they're both asleep, with the movie still rolling on.
It's the smell that hits Darcy first, a combination of salt, heated tar, something a little bit like fish, and cool sea air. She cracks open her eyes to see a dark, glittering sky above her and can feel soft, lapping waves brushing up against the soles of her feet. There's sand beneath her, slightly rough against her bare limbs, and it retains some of the heat left over from the day before. She can feel Steve lying on the sand beside her, tense and still. He's breathing carefully and slowly, but there's really no reason for him to worry.
Darcy twists her head to one side, spotting the shadowy posts and piers that stretch out into the wine-dark ocean. She smiles, recognizing the familiar shapes and knowing that this is her territory. With her arms she pushes herself to a sitting position, catching sight of the sand dunes behind her and the endless Atlantic stretching out to the horizon and beyond in front of her. It's peaceful, and she relishes the feeling.
"So I'm guessing this is your dream?" Steve asks, propping himself up on his elbows.
She smiles and twists back to the sand dunes, waving a hand in their general direction. "Yeah. My parents' house is, hmm, maybe half a mile back that way. We'd spend most of our summers here trying to either avoid the tourists or make money off of them."
There's a thin, lighter grey strip glowing along the horizon, and Darcy's seen that sight enough times to know that the sun will soon be making its way upward, setting the sky aflame. But right now it's darkened and peaceful, with the only lights coming from the pale moon and the twinkling stars. And it's perfect for swimming, she thinks.
Darcy scrambles to her feet. "I think it's time for a swim," she says, ready to plunge headfirst into the waves.
"I think I'll take a pass on that one, thanks," Steve replies, sitting up straighter but not budging from his position.
She looks down at him, watches as his eyes scan the horizon like he's searching for something he can't quite find just yet. "It's only a dream," she says. "If you don't like it, you can just wake up."
Steve shakes his head, mouth twisted into a bitter grin. "Only if I don't open my eyes to find out seventy years have passed again."
"Not in my ocean," Darcy says firmly. "Come on, Steve. The world's yours for the taking. This is only the start of it."
It's not her job to teach him all about the future; she's no professor and, frankly, doesn't have the patience for it. But she can easily encourage him to step out of his comfort zone, to explore what's right at his fingertips and maybe just beyond. That, Darcy knows, is something she's pretty damn good at. Yes, it may have gotten her into trouble in the past, but still, no regrets.
Eventually Steve pushes himself to his feet, still staring off into the distance. "Just a dream?" he asks, dropping his eyes to hers.
"And a peaceful one at that." Darcy smiles widely and runs for the waves, diving under the water with a splash without any worry for her clothes. She sails forward and twists, kicking her legs behind her until she breaks the surface laughing. She waves once, beckoning Steve forth into the water.
With a shake of his head he jumps in. It's not a graceful move, and the resultant wave crashes over her head, dripping water into her face. Still, she laughs again, because this is home and she's in a good mood and it's absolutely fantastic to see Steve loosen up just a little and relax.
They play in the waves like children until the sun comes up, painting the sky in shades of yellow, orange, and gold.
When Darcy awakes the next morning she finds that she's still on the couch, having slept there the entire night. Not so surprising, all of the roommates have fallen asleep on there at one point or another. What is surprising is that Steve is still there, sitting upright yet fast asleep in the opposite corner of the couch, one of the throw pillows shoved between his head and the armrest. At some point during the night she must have wiggled her toes into the space beneath his thigh. Darcy flexes them quickly to try and get some of the feeling back. They do feel nicely warm, though, she thinks through the early morning mental fog.
It's got to be the wiggling that wakes Steve up, because not long after that he comes to with a jolt. His eyes dart rapidly around the room until he remembers where exactly he is, and a hand comes up to massage wearily at his forehead. "Morning," Darcy croaks, still feeling sleep-dazed herself.
"Hi," he replies, voice a little scratchy.
"Hangover?" she asks, sympathetically. She has to admit that she kind of lost track of just how many beers had been handed out the previous night, and there's a sneaking certainty that they had broken into some locally made rye whiskey sometime during the second movie. Darcy had made sure that Steve had indulged in his fair share as well, thinking that he probably needed the drinks more than the rest of them just because of reasons.
Steve just shakes his head. "No. I wish that was it, but no."
"Okay, that's a story you're going to have to share at some point."
Before she can wrangle any more info about that odd statement out of him Jess comes over, dropping to a crouch in front of them. "Come on," she says. "Barrett's working on the food truck; he owes us breakfast after last night."
"I am always up for free muffins." Darcy stretches out, arching her back to try and ease some of the inevitable stiffness after a night spent curled up on the couch. She prods Steve in the thigh with her toes. "You want breakfast?" she asks, hoping that he's not thinking of running back to the safety of his apartment. She feels like there was progress made throughout the night, between the movie and the dream, and it would be a total step in the wrong direction if he were to wimp out on her now. "I promise he actually knows how to make muffins, unlike dinner last night. You haven't been to the Prospect Park farmer's market yet either, have you?" she continues on, not giving him a chance to answer.
Jess looks over at Steve, curls bobbing as she nods in agreement. "It is a pretty fun way to spend a Saturday morning," she adds.
Steve gives Darcy a shrewd look. "You're not going to let me say no, are you?"
Darcy just prods him in the thigh once more and grins.
The three end up eating breakfast on a bench somewhere in Prospect Park. The air's cold but the sun's up high, and the cups of strong coffee from one of the tents keeps Darcy nicely warmed from the inside. Steve has his first experience with gourmet vegan muffins (the banana nut with maple almond butter-like spread turns out to be his favorite), while Jess tucks into a breakfast cobbled together from various tents.
Steve's impressed with the volume of food she packs away. "I think you're putting some of my army buddies to shame there," he says, waving his cup of coffee at the blue corn pancakes she's just put aside in favor of some cream filled pastries. Darcy reaches over with her fork and stabs one of the pancakes, wanting to try them before they disappear.
Jess just shrugs. "I consist on smoothies most of the week thanks to my crazy boss. The weekends are mine, and I want real, delicious food." She shoves the rest of the pastry in her mouth, cheeks bulging out like a squirrel and chews happily.
"Cheers to you," Darcy says, raising her coffee cup in salute. Steve raises his own in agreement, and with a shared grin they click their paper cups together.
A/n: Chapter title from 'Sunrise', by The Divine Comedy (a song which, seriously, everyone needs to listen to. It's eerie and breathtaking and manages to go from mournful to amazingly hopeful in the space of a simple bridge. It's one of my favorites from Neil Hannon ever).