A Darcy Thanksgiving, Ch. 3
By lacorsetiere (formerly iyaorisha)
Timing: let's say the fall after the events in The Avengers. Manhattan has begun to recover from the Chitauri attack, but Darcy's only recently arrived so she hasn't had a chance to wreak too much damage of her own.
Pairing: Darcy Lewis/Clint Barton eventually.
Summary: Clint plays bodyguard so Darcy can travel home for Thanksgiving. Nothing involving Darcy is ever that simple.
Ratings/Warnings: Teen/PG-13 for violence, bad language, and icky injuries in the first couple chapters. Probably PG-13/mild R before it ends.
Spoilers: Major spoilery for all of the Marvelverse movies (up through Thor: The Dark World) and for the first season of the ABC show Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Really though, it's so thoroughly tainted by my own head canon that I might be forgetting something so I apologize in advance.
Feedback: Desperately seeking it! This is my first attempt at writing in this fandom. This fic was conceived while I was trying to find a cheap flight home for Thanksgiving and discovered you can fly cargo class if you don't mind giving up creature comforts. I know that I suck at making up titles, so I'm open to suggestions. I also suck at writing action scenes.
Thanks for all of the comments. I'm happy if you've enjoyed it so far and apologize for any errors (grammatical, canonical, or otherwise). I'm also sorry for the long delay. When I wrote as iyaorisha, I had vastly differently life circumstances and often had several chapters done before I began posting. Now, I'm lucky if I can write a paragraph over a weekend. I hope I am making the wait worthwhile. This chapter is short because the holidays.
Disclaimers: I don't own anything here. I'm not making money off any of these. Just having fun.
Darcy was as surprised as the gun man when Clint attacked. The master archer's steel-toed boot hit Sweaty in the vulnerable nerve cluster with devastating force. The goon sharply exhaled and collapsed, firing a shot into the ceiling of the plane as he fell backwards. Then, Barton was on top of him.
Unable to breathe properly, let alone yell for help or fight back, Sweaty was quickly disarmed by Barton. Clint slipped the gun into his waistband and then trussed up their former captor using the man's own belt around his hands and Barton's around his feet. Clint then snagged Darcy's infinity scarf off her neck and used it to gag the goon. It all took less than a minute.
"Wow!" Darcy said. "Wow!"
Clint quirked an eyebrow at her.
"I mean, um, I know you're an Avenger, but" she breathed. "Just wow!"
He gave an amused shake of his head and then put a shushing finger to her lips before pointing at the front of the plane.
Oh, yeah, Darcy though. Stop babbling like a fangirl. We've still got one more baddie to deal with.
The older man who was Sweaty's partner in crime was still in the cockpit. No doubt with a gun to the head of the pilot. The thought sent icy chills down Darcy's spine. But the odds were in their favor now, right. Sweaty was tied up, Barton had a gun, and she had…
Darcy suddenly remembered something and bent down to rummage in the bottom of her messenger bag. When her fingers pushed aside a couple lip gloss containers, a handful of hair ties, and a third of a smushed Pop Tart to brush cool metal, she gave a happy cry of relief.
"Sweaty, meet Sparky!" She cackled as she pulled her tazer out of the bag to brandish it at the bound gunman. She was tempted to give him a taste just because of the crack he'd made about her breasts.
Clint gave Darcy a thumbs up. It made her feel more glowy than it should have, but she chalked it up to effects of the adrenaline and not the frank approval in the master archer's eyes. Were they blue or green? Focus, Lewis! She stood up and took the slightly wide stance that fellow tazer-wielder Coulson had shown her after her S.H.I.E.L.D. basic field training instructor gave up trying to force Darcy carry a firearm.
Barton nodded and then began moving toward the cockpit.
Darcy kept the tazer trained on Sweaty. She gave him what she hoped was a menancing glare, but the truth was, he didn't need any extra scaring. The man was perspiring so hard now that his sweat had completely darkened the silk scarf gag. Eww, she thought, grossed out. Then, piqued because sweat stains never came out of silk and the vintage sari print scarf had been a birthday gift from Pepper Potts. She'd had it less than a month. S.H.I.E.L.D. is why I can never have nice things, Darcy thought bitterly, still rankled by the loss of her iPod.
Then, she had greater concerns because a shot rang out and then the plane lurched sickeningly before starting what was unmistakably a dive.