Chapter Word Count: 6,153
Overall Word Count: 58,680

I Climbed The Tree To See The World (When The Gusts Came Around To Blow Me Down, I Held On As Tightly As You Held On To Me)
-Novel-

VI.

The incessant ringing of her phone was driving her nuts.

She only left it on because she needed the alarm to let her know when study time was up; truth be told she was waiting hopefully for that time so she could close up her books and walk away with a 'Well, I tried,' feeling. She wasn't above hating school, even if it was unconventional one being run out of a dark room in a secret government agency. Alas, it wasn't her alarm, somebody was calling and they weren't giving up.

With a sigh, she grabbed it up and flipped it open without checking the ID. "Yo," she greeted distractedly.

"I thought you were supposed to be some big shot adult now. Pretty sure 'yo' is too hip for you."

Darcy grinned. "My, oh my, if it ain't my prodigal little brother…" She leaned back in her chair, notebook in her lap. "What's up half-pint?"

He snorted. "Darcy, I'm like a full foot taller than you… And also, since you haven't called in ages, you're the prodigal daughter."

"Well, special's always been my middle name, might as well stick to it in my old, old age."

"Yeah, what are you now, like thirty? Forty?"

She rolled her eyes. "Such a charmer, Mikey, how does your boyfriend put up with you?"

"I've mastered your princess pout; falls for it every time."

Laughing, she swiveled her chair side to side and stacked her legs up on top of the desk in front of her. "Don't use it too much; they get immune if you oversell it."

"Hence why our parents aren't wrapped around your finger…"

"How are mom and pops?" she wondered, drawing cartoons in the margins of her notes.

"Good, good. Mom's pissed because I didn't apply for college and dad still things I'm going through a gay phase."

She snorted. "I don't know why. Jack's awesome. Personally, I'll adopt him into my own little family if you two ever break up."

"Thanks for the family solidarity," he muttered drolly.

"Plus I think it'd be funny if you guys ever have a son… Michael and Jack's son…" She grinned to herself. "Michael Jackson!"

She could practically hear him rolling his eyes through the phone.

"I know… You tell that joke every time you come to down to visit and get drunk when mom gets snippy."

"Which is always," she reminded.

"She's worried about you."

"Wow, subtlety just don't exist in our family… Like when you came out of the closet…" Darcy snorted, shaking her head at the memory.

Half asleep, Michael shuffled his feet as he entered the dining room. Yawning, he took a seat in between his sisters and said, "Hey, pass the toast… Thanks. I'm gay. Jam too, please."

While Darcy watched her dad start choking on his bacon and their mother simply roll her eyes, as if she'd always known, she passed him the apricot jam and added, "I'm brunette. Egg me!" She made a gimme motion at the plate of scrambled eggs.

And Laney shrugged, unperturbed, and said, "I have blue eyes. Pass the salt."

When her dad finally stopped choking, he looked between his three children, taking a united front of support and making it clear they knew Michael's sexual orientation not only wasn't a choice but something they understood and loved about him, and finally he just sighed. "Fishing?" he asked him. "This weekend?"

Michael half-grinned. "Cool."

"Whatever, some things don't need subtlety…" he dismissed. "And don't change the subject. Are you gonna call mom or what? Laney keeps trying to tell her you're fine but she won't believe it until it comes from you."

"I've been busy."

"Yeah?" His tone suggested whatever it was keeping her busy it would never be important enough. "Doing what?"

"Top secret spy stuff; very hush, hush," she said, smirking.

"Darce…" he sighed, in a tone that replicated their mother's exasperation.

"Hey, did I mention I made friends? Met a cute boy? Have a shiny new job?" She wiggled her eyebrows even though he couldn't see her. "Wanna talk about that?"

"We'll talk boys and shit later. Try n' focus," he said seriously. "Look, I know you don't like it when I play this card, but you owe me… I covered for you every time you asked me to. I even helped forge dad's signature when you brought home principal's notes," he reminded. "So do me this solid and call mom."

"Nobody ever says to call dad. He's getting the short-end of the stick, y'know? What if dad wants to talk? He's the one suffering through a mom-enforced diet! Give the man a break!"

He snorted. "Don't make me come out there, okay? I will throw you over my shoulder and drag your ass home."

She frowned. She was pretty sure, before all the SHIELD training, that he totally could. Michael was six foot five, lean but wide-shouldered. He was an athlete through high school and a bit of a daredevil considering his love of doing tricks on his modified dirt bike. And growing up with Darcy and Laney, he'd been wrestling his sister's most of his life, just for things like time in the bathroom and the TV remote. Since puberty, he had a height and weight advantage that he used to get his way too often. Though not as much lately, since Laney went away to college and, a few years later, Darcy followed in her footsteps, leaving him at home with just their parents and Otis, the wheezy, on-its-last-day Jack Russell terrier they'd had since Darcy was ten.

"Listen, when I have the time and energy, I'll call mom," she assured. "I'm just…" She chewed her lip. "I like what I'm doing and I'm kind of scared that if I tell her, she'll do something or say something and I'll screw this up."

"Like what?"

"I dunno…" she sighed, frustrated. "She just… She says these things and suddenly it's like, I rethink everything and I—I hate it. She makes me feel bad about the choices I make so I—I change them."

"Darcy, you give mom too much credit," her brother said. "If you like where you're at, stay. Mom is just mom; she says things, does things, you gotta take it with a grain of salt, y'know? She's not perfect."

She snorted, slumping down in her chair. "Yeah, I'm not so sure."

He blew out a long breath. "Look, whatever she says, however it makes you feel, in the end, she's your mom and she loves you and she just wants to know that you're okay and you're happy."

"Yeah…" she rasped back, swallowing tightly. She reached up and scrubbed at her eyes. "Listen, I gotta go. I'm working, so…"

"All right. Just… Call me more, okay? It's boring and quiet over here… I don't like it."

Her lips twitched. "All right, I'll call. God, you and Laney, you're so needy."

He snorted. "Whatever."

She grinned. "Love you, M."

"You too, D."

Darcy hung up and dropped her phone down to her chest, gnawing at her lip.

She folded up her books and hopped out of Coulson's chair, making her way out of his office. "Hey, Dolores," she said to the secretary. "You see Bossman, tell him thanks for letting me have his office today."

"Of course, Darcy," she assured.

Saluting her goodbye, Darcy made her way up to her floor, dropped her things off in her room, and then went down to the old gym Steve liked to frequent.

He wasn't around and she knew he didn't often remember to keep his cell phone on him. Instead of bothering him, she found the roll of tape he left on standby, wrapped her fists, and started taking her frustrations out on the old, swinging punching bag. She let the smell of the gym, musty and dusty, the weight of the bag under her knuckles, and the general feel of the room that was no longer bright with her presents and birthday banner, sink into her.

Her mind zig-zagged in and out of thought; starting with her mom, frustrated with her all her life, seguing into her dad teaching her how to hold a baseball bat, followed by a memory of her sister trying to show her how to do her make-up, and her and Michael dancing in her room, singing at the top of her lungs. She thought about college, about sitting in her interior design classes, looking at fabrics and colors, buttons and zippers, and being overwhelmed by how the others did it, how focused and driven they were. She remembered her languages class and how so many students struggled or stressed out while she picked them up so easily, but bored just as quick when it became more than just a cool thing she knew. When her professor started making suggestions about internships and job opportunities. She remembered the disappointed noise her mother made each time she called and said, "Yeah, so that wasn't really working, but it's cool because I found something else and I really think this one will fit…" She thought of her poli-sci classes and how things started to fit together a bit. Not perfectly, but more than the rest. And she thought of Jane and New Mexico and Thor. Of jack-booted thugs and stolen iPods.

And finally she thought about being at SHIELD. Of her languages and customs classes, her training with Tima, hiring Peter, trying and failing at ruffling the stoic super-agent Coulson, and of meeting Steve. Of reality TV and painting her room, breaking into the staff room for ice cream, and admiring his good-boy charm while secretly wanting to tarnish it with dirty, sweaty sex on the same mats she was circling the punching bag on.

When she stepped back, she was exhausted, more emotionally than physically, though sweat dribbled from her temples and collected on her back.

Groaning, she hugged the punching bag and pressed her forehead to it, closing her eyes.

"I'm so fucked," she muttered under her breath.

She turned her head, letting her cheek rest there, and squeezed her eyes as they burned. Her tears broke through and sniffling, she laughed to herself about how very un-badass it probably was.

But she wasn't some cold, efficient, super-kickass agent.

She wasn't anything.

Just a grunt.

Like always.

Darcy enjoyed the element of surprise, mostly because it worked in her favor. So when she saw Steve walking in the opposite direction down the hallway, frowning in confusion down at his phone, she hooked her arm with his elbow and said, "Walk with me."

He looked up, eyebrows hiked. "Darcy, hey!"

She smiled; there was something about how his pitch always went up when he saw her, like he was really and truly excited to be around her that just made her feel good. "Sup, Cap?" She steered him down the hall. "So what do you say to getting out of here?" She wasn't so much asking as telling though, and hustled him onto the elevator.

Steve could've gotten away at any time. She figured, if he wanted to, he could untangle himself and give her any number of reasons he couldn't go before he planted his feet on the floor and didn't budge. But instead he went with her and didn't kick up any fuss at all. She chalked it up to trust and mentally patted herself on the back.

"Is there anywhere particular that we're headed?" he wondered.

She shrugged; she had an idea, actually. "You got somewhere to be?"

He smiled slowly before saying, "Not if my other option is spending time with you."

She bit her lip. "That was some smooth talkin', Steve." She squeezed his arm. "Keep it up and this girl might just fall for your charms." She raised an eyebrow. "And then where would you be?"

He ducked his eyes. "Hopefully on a date with a beautiful woman…"

Her heart thudded in her chest, but before she could do anything, like potentially ruin the moment, somebody else joined them on the elevator. Darcy and Steve shuffled to the right and she leaned herself against his side, her head falling against his arm. He probably didn't know she could see him in the shiny surface of the elevator walls, but he was mirrored there, looking down at her and smiling widely.

Ugh, she was so totally not going to survive whatever they turned out to be.

When they reached the main floor, they had to go through a few different security procedures before they were released into the general public, none the wiser of the secret government agency under their noses. The city was loud; she winced at the sudden influx of noise and turned left down the sidewalk, bringing Steve along with her. He didn't ask where they were going, but she knew he was curious.

They bypassed a coffee shop she'd visited the few times she managed to leave HQ and go exploring— more like, got lost, but she wasn't telling anybody that— and she waved at the barista who recognized her and smiled when she walked by.

It was six blocks over that she finally stopped, just outside of a small, underused jungle gym. Maybe it was the time, kids were still in school at one in the afternoon, right? But the place was empty, leaving the swing set she specifically came to sit on wide open. She slid her hand down to take Steve's and tugged him along as she delightedly hopped onto a swing, the chains jangling.

He half-smiled at her and gently sat in the one next to hers.

The park was surrounded by tall, brick housing complexes, which meant, for the part, that the outside noise of traffic was mostly blocked out. She could hear the whistle of the wind and the flap of laundry on the wire. She pushed off with her feet and let the swing take her up. She leaned forward, pushed her feet back, and enjoyed gravity's pull. For a minute, she just closed her eyes and pumped her legs, letting the air whip around her, cool against her skin.

When she finally looked, she was high up in the air and staring at the cloudy sky. As she came back down, the wind forced her hair forward and it crowded around her face. She dropped her feet down and let them skid against the ground, slowing her down.

Steve sat watching her; a familiar warmth filled his face, like just looking at her was something to be reveled at.

As she came to a full stop, she leaned her face against her hand, gripping the chain loosely. "You remember when we met?" she asked him, eyebrow ticked.

He nodded, mouth curving at the corners faintly. "I heard you yelling in pain from the hallway," he said, amusement lacing his tone.

"Hey, that cramp was reaching threat level red!" she argued, her eyes round.

He chuckled under his breath.

"Anyway… I was just thinking… I said something, about how my life was in a tailspin and you said you got it…" She looked over at him sidelong. "And later, when I was having my freak out at the gun range, and I said something about wondering what happened, what went weird in my life that made it this way, you said you knew how that felt…" She frowned. "I never really asked, and I'll bet it has something to do with the top secret serum thing you brought up, but…" She stared searchingly at him. "You okay, Steve?"

His eyes were set on the ground a long moment, brows furrowed. "We came all this way to talk about me?" he tried to joke.

But Darcy pushed her feet into the ground and moved her swing closer. She covered his hand where it was tightly gripping the chain of his swing. "You've done a pretty good job of talking me down from my freak-outs," she told him. "And I might be using this to avoid another, but I'm still seriously interested… So what happened in your life that screwed you up? Mom issues? Dad? Girlfriend cheat? Dog run away?" She shook her head. "Lay it on me."

His head turned and for a while he just stared at her hand covering his, looking pale and small in comparison. She rubbed her thumb over his knuckles and waited.

"Do you remember when you asked me if my parents were big on World War II, and that's why they named me after Captain America?" he wondered, a sardonic twist on the title.

She nodded.

"They didn't. They… weren't. I…" He ground his teeth together. "I am that guy. I…" He cleared his throat, gaze slowly lifting to meet hers. "I was born in 1920… I had a lot of health problems, but I… I tried not to let that stop me. I tried to be stronger than my body was." His jaw ticked. "And when the war started, I tried to enlist…" He smiled sadly. "Multiple times… Until finally, I met Dr. Erksine and he… He had this amazing opportunity for me…"

Darcy listened as he laid it all out; he wasn't kidding about the serum. As he explained what he'd been like before, she created a picture in her mind of a short, thin, pale man, lean in the face, but with Steve's same bright, strong eyes. She imagined his resolve and his friendly, good-nature were just parts of the original package, passed on to the beefier body. She smiled to herself as she thought about how the good person he was hadn't been changed by the outside package.

And then he talked about Peggy and the adoration in his voice made her stomach drop out a little. Her smile strained and she turned her eyes forward, still listening, still cataloguing every immensely important detail. Because it all made some weird sense; it all explained so much of who he was and the things he didn't know or do like modern men. And sure, fine, his lack of knowledge on romance movies, that was easily dismissible, even if Titanic and When Harry Met Sally and Dirty Dancing were all classics, but there were other things like his inability to use, and general frustration with, certain technology. Or the way he talked sometimes, adding 'Miss' and 'ma'am' and he was so polite and chivalrous and sure, the 20's and 30's weren't perfect but they obviously instilled some qualities in him that men of the modern world didn't have as much of.

"And then I woke up here… And I realized they were trying to convince me that I was still in my time, but… I knew something was off. I…" He shook his head. "I escaped and then Director Fury met with me personally and he offered me work at SHIELD while… They worked out the kinks in a special program or something, I'm not sure." He sighed. "And for first few months I… didn't know what to do. I didn't know how to survive. I… My friends, they were all gone. Bucky…" His voice went out, strangled, and his hand squeezed the chain tighter. "Bucky was gone and I'd always… I relied on him." He closed his eyes and sighed. "And Peggy. I just… I finally got my chance, you know? Things were coming together and… Then it was all gone." He frowned.

"Heavy," she said, her voice soft. She tried to take it all in; there was so much to process. "So I guess I must've been some trip for you, huh? I mean…" She smiled sarcastically. "You go from life in the 30's with all those 'dames' and you come here and you get a face full of me…" Her brow furrowed. "I hope I didn't ruin you for modern women, Rogers; it'd be a crying shame for the future groupies you'll collect."

He turned to look at her, confused. "Darcy… You've been amazing." He stared searchingly at her. "You were the only one who treated me like a regular person. I… To everybody else I was either Captain Rogers or I was Captain America…" He smiled slowly. "I was just Steve to you. Which…" He sighed. "Which is why I was so selfish and kept it to myself. I shouldn't have… I should have been honest with you from the beginning, I just… It… felt good…" His eyes fell slightly. "When you said we could be friends, it was… You were my first friend since what happened and… I relied on it. I relied on being normal with you. On watching reality television and eating ice cream and… listening to your conspiracy theories on SHIELD and the agents…" He smiled to himself. "I know it's complicated and you probably need some time to think about it, but… I hope it won't change how you think about me."

He said it so sincerely, but she could see in his face that he was expecting it would. That he was waiting to look at her and see that her whole reaction to him would be different. Maybe she should have questions. Maybe she should be more freaked out. But… A few months ago, she was just a poli sci graduate with little chance of doing anything with her life, and now she was settling in at SHIELD as a kickass liaison under the kickassiest super agent. Her former boss and current friend was creating a bridge between worlds and she was starting to think the boy she'd hired to replace her as Jane's assistant was an underground cage fighter of some sort. Don't even get her started on pre-SHIELD and the Norse God she tased. And now here she was, sitting on a swing next to Captain America… who was possibly still in love with a woman from the 40's.

So she laughed, pushed off, and started swinging again. "Well, I think you give credit to the hot grandpa movement, if it's any consolation…" She smiled, swinging back and forth. "Hey, you wanna go dancing with me tonight?" she wondered. "I was gonna take Jane out to karaoke but Peter said she had a breakthrough and, since I know you're more of a jiving jazz type, I think I know a bar we could hit up. Real low key, good music, cheap drinks…" She raised an eyebrow. "You in?"

He stared at her, like he was both surprised and… not. She imagined she had that effect. "Uh, yeah, sure, I… I'd love to."

"Cool," she said, leaning back and smiling as she swung through the air. "I'll snag Coulson's company card off him and we'll charge SHIELD, call it a field trip if anybody asks…"

Slowly, he shook his head at her, smiling. "Are there any rules you won't break?"

"Just the ones I make for myself."

"Is it a long list?" he wondered, beginning to swing next to her.

"Not long enough," she sighed.

She added fall in love with a man already in love with someone else to her rules list and tried not to let the way he smiled at her make her heart flip so much.

On the walk back, she tucked her hands in her jeans pocket so she wouldn't touch him; she had to be firm with herself, after all.

And yeah, she knew taking him out dancing would test that. But she had no brain-to-mouth filter and she'd wanted to reassure him that he was still just Steve to her.

It was either going to be a phenomenal disaster or a terrible success.

"Run that by me again," Jane said, pausing in her work.

"Steve is in love with someone else but I think I might have real feelings for him and not just the 'wanna get in your pressed pants' kind of feels, and we're going dancing tonight so I need to know if I should dress down, to remind myself that this is a no-go zone, or I should dress up to show him what he's missing and maybe boost my confidence…"

She blinked at her.

Peter rolled across the room on his desk chair to admire both outfits Darcy was holding up. "How do you know he's in love with someone else?" he wondered, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

"Because he basically said so, Peter Piper," she snapped.

"He told you he was in love with someone…?" His eyes narrowed. "And then said yes when you asked him to go out dancing?"

She frowned. "He's super polite and I don't think he thought I meant like date-date, just… Y'know, two friends, dancing…" She shrugged. "Whatever, we had a heart-to-heart and I knew he was worried I didn't think of him the same way, so I wanted to show him I did."

"By taking him out dancing and possibly trying to make him regret that he's in love with someone who isn't you?" He shoved his glasses up the slope of his nose and frowned. "I don't know, Darcy, I think maybe you heard him wrong."

She deflated. "What do you mean, Genius-Boy?" she sighed.

"He means he thinks Steve likes you…" Jane stared up at her, brows hiked. "Like like-likes you."

"What she said," he agreed.

"Yeah, well, you weren't there, so you didn't see how he lit up when he talked about perfect, ballsy, shoot up the bad guy, Peggy, okay?" She waved the clothes at them. "So? Confident hottie or comfortable friend?"

Jane stood from her chair, frowned, and then walked right past her. "Come on…" She shrugged her lab coat off.

"Uh, where are you going?" Darcy wondered, staring in confusion.

"We are going shopping," she declared, motioning between them. "We'll get you something to wear for tonight that'll make you feel awesome and him regretful but also walks the understated, 'didn't even have to try' line."

Darcy lowered her arms. "Yeah?"

Jane smiled at her. "Yeah."

"Well, who am I to pass up a shopping spree?" She dropped her clothes over the back of a chair and started for the door with Jane.

"Uh… I'll just… wait here then," Peter said.

Darcy snorted at him over her shoulder. "Don't you have some pickled peppers to pick?"

He smirked. "Just a peck."

She laughed in appreciation as she walked out the door.

As it turned out, Jane was an awesome shopping buddy. They tried a number of stores and, for a woman who hardly ever left her lab, Jane was surprisingly good at finding her way around New York. They settled on a killer red dress that hugged her body, with cap sleeves, fabric that crossed over her chest in a v-fashion to emphasize but still cover, a tiny ruffled waist-skirt that hailed back to another generation of fashion, and a square bow to top it. Lastly, she dropped way too much on a pair of black velvet platforms, and resolved to wear them every day to make them worth it.

"So what's the deal?" Jane wondered as they sat outside of a coffee shop. She licked the foam from her top lip and raised a brow at Darcy. "You and Steve hang out almost every night."

"Yes, I've officially moved up in the world to favorite person to watch reality TV with…" She rolled her eyes.

Jane reached over and squeezed her hand. "I don't think that's it…"

"Please don't join Peter's line of thinking and try to convince me that Captain Awesome wants me to be anything more…" She shook her head. "I have enough issues; this is just a really handsome, unattainable topper."

She frowned. "What else is wrong?"

"How about my life? My entire existence thus far?" she complained.

Jane rolled her eyes. "Could you be more specific?"

She pouted, slumping down in her chair. "I haven't called my mom."

"So call her now." She shrugged. "What's the big deal?"

"No, I mean… I haven't talked to her since right after I graduated…"

Jane's eyes widened. "Darcy it's been, like… months." Her lips pursed. "Right?"

"Yes, Jane…" Her eyes rolled. "Despite the fact that you have completely lost contact with the stream of time, it has been months."

"Does she even know you're in New York?"

"Yeah, but only because my sister told her…" she admitted, shrugging one shoulder. "I just… didn't know what to say…"

"Well, it's good to start with 'Hi'."

"Sure, and I'll add 'Sorry it took me so long to call; you probably thought I was dead, but surprise!'" She offered a sarcastic thumbs-up.

Jane snorted. "What's the deal with you and your mom anyway?"

"Nothing. Just everything I do is a disappointment. You know, totally normal stuff…" she trailed off, turning her eyes away.

"Oh."

She frowned. "Don't 'oh' me. I don't want your sad, poor Darcy 'oh,'" she muttered.

"It wasn't. I—"

"So what if my mom constantly thinks I'll never do anything with my life and I keep proving her right, huh? Who cares if all she has to do is say my name a certain way and I feel like stepped on crap?" She threw her hands up. "Plenty of people have mom issues!"

Jane blinked. "Okay…"

"That's right! It is okay!" She crossed her arms over her chest and sat back in her chair. "And I'm fine. F. I. N. E. Fine."

"Yeah, you are," a random man walking by called out.

"Oh shove it, asshole. Private conversation," she snapped, rolling her eyes dismissively before turning back to Jane. "I'm all coffee'd out, you wanna head back to SHIELD?"

"Um, sure…" She stood up, drained her mug, and then picked up her own small bag of clothes she'd bought, at Darcy's insistence.

As they started back toward HQ, Jane reached over and hugged Darcy around her shoulders. "I'm proud of you," she said.

Darcy looked up at her, her throat tight. "What's not to be proud of?" she joked, but her voice was choked with emotion, so it didn't quite hit the right note.

Jane took pity on her and just smiled. "So how much is Steve Rogers going to wish you were his girlfriend tonight, right?" she said, changing the subject.

Darcy appreciated her for it and went with the new topic of conversation.

It happened to be one she quite enjoyed, in fact.

"On a scale of seven to ten, how much do you trust me?" Darcy said as she walked through his office door. "And before you ask, seven is a lot, ten is with your life."

"I think the scale might need adjusting," a voice that wasn't Coulson's answered.

Darcy blinked and then tipped her head at the man sitting behind Coulson's desk. Immediately, Darcy was put on the defensive; she started searching the room for things she could use as a weapon, and really, Coulson's office was a veritable torture chamber of pointy, deadly things.

The man across from her gave a chuckle. "Easy Killer, I'm not one of the bad guys…" He kicked his feet up on the desk and stacked his hands on his stomach, adopting a pose Darcy often did when she was on the phone with her siblings, complete relaxation.

She thought she should be offended that he wasn't the least bit worried about what she could do to him.

"Coulson doesn't let just anyone behind his desk, guy wearing Kevlar like it's in season." She frowned at him. "And where is the oh-so-special agent if you're a friend of his?"

He shrugged. "In a meeting."

"Did Dolores let you back here?" She backed out the door to look for the secretary, but didn't find her, and when she looked back, the smirking man was looking her up and down.

"Hey! This dress is not an every-man's ogle," she warned, pointing at him. "This has specific eyes waiting on it."

He raised a skeptical brow. "You and Coulson?"

"Oh my God," she sighed. "Is it so insane that maybe I just work for him? That maybe we're just friends?" She put her hands on her hips. "Do boobs automatically mean tail to you jerks?"

He blinked at her. "I'm sorry?"

"I'm so tired of this male-ego bullshit. Coulson is my mentor; the Miyagi to my karate kid, okay?" Her eyes widened for emphasis. "And if you make a wax on, wax off sex joke, I will end you!"

His lips twitched. "You must be Darcy," he finally said, nodding. "I almost didn't recognize you…" His eyes narrowed. "You were in Puente Antiguo when Thor touched down."

She frowned. "The hell do you know that?"

"Barton," he introduced himself, before shoving off the desk and standing. "Agent Clint Barton, ma'am. I'm one of Coulson's strays too."

Her brows furrowed. "Did you just call me a dog?"

"You get riled easily, don't you?"

She glared. "Are you saying I'm volatile?"

He chuckled, grinning. "You must really push his buttons…" He examined her thoughtfully. "Good. He needs that. He's got too much stress in his life." He started looking around then, as if he thought Coulson was nearby, watching or listening.

She wouldn't put it past him.

"So you're an agent?" she asked, eyeing him up and down. "You don't look like the others."

"I'm… special."

"Gold star for you," she scoffed.

His lips twitched. "There a reason you were looking for Coulson?"

"I believe she was hoping to borrow my company expense card," the man in question suddenly appeared at her back.

"Ninja," she said, turning her head to see him, smirking when he offered a half-smile of acknowledgement. "So?" She held a hand out. "On a scale of seven to ten?"

He stared at her a long moment. "This is for your outing with Captain Rogers?"

She gave him a spin to show off her red dress. "What d'ya think?"

He raised an eyebrow. "He's either a very lucky or very stupid man," he admitted.

She grinned at him. "Won't know 'til the night's out." She winked at him.

Coulson dug into his jacket and pulled out his wallet. "You have a limit, Miss Lewis." He handed over the shiny new card, freshly printed with her own name.

Her eyes were wide as she looked up at him. "Holy skittles! All for me?" she joked.

"You deserve it," he said.

She frowned. "My tests aren't until tomorrow, how do you know I'll—" The look he gave her cut her off.

"You'll do fine," he assured. And then, with a knowing tilt to his lips, added, "F. I. N. E. Fine."

She snorted. "Spy," she said, like it was an insult, before she swept past him toward the door. She paused, looking over at the curious Barton. "Nice meeting ya," she said, waving a hand.

"You too," he returned, before turning his blank, stoic agent-face on Coulson.

Darcy rolled her eyes and walked away.

Steve had agreed to meet her outside of his gym, in part because not as many people frequented the area, which meant they wouldn't get nearly as many curious stares.

Darcy fidgeted anxiously in the elevator, playing with the fabric around her waist, flattening the small bow, readjusting her bra. When the doors dinged open though, she put on her brave face and stepped off to meet him.

Her stomach flipped when she spotted him, his hair parted immaculately, his pants freshly pressed, and his buttoned shirt tucked in. He was talking to himself, pacing, waving one of his hands. And then he paused, and she smiled, because she knew it was her perfume. It always gave her away.

When he looked up, she watched as his eyes widened and his lips parted, brows hiked high on his forehead.

"Darcy, you… You look amazing…" He took a step toward her and then thrust forward a bouquet of flowers. "Here, uh… I… I got these for you."

She smiled, her eyes falling to take in all the different kinds and colors. She'd never been a twelve, long-stem roses type; she liked the mix and match much better. She collected them into her hands and brought them up to breathe in; the scent was beautiful, and the soft petals and reaching baby's breath tickled her face.

"Thanks," she said, turning her eyes up to see him.

He smiled, nodding, and then offered her his elbow. "We'll just stop at your room and then…" He eyed her searchingly. "If you're ready?"

She swallowed thickly and stared into the bright blue of his eyes. "Yeah… I am."

As they started toward the elevator, he said, "You know, for a second there, when I looked at you… I forgot what year I was in."

Her smile faltered.

And Darcy remembered her rules list.

Off limits, she reminded herself. Steve Rogers was just a friend. And he was going to stay that way.

[Next: VII.]