The Alley Cat is dead except for the handful of regulars Darcy's fairly certain singlehandedly keep the doors of this establishment open. Everyone has drinks and the bar is well-stocked and clean, so she finds herself bored for a change. She's mulling over some ideas for her possible gallery show when the door opens and Jane walks inside. This is the first time she's seen her in a month. Jane practically lives in the lab and Darcy's been avoiding her because she's still annoyed over that awful blind date her "friend" set her up with.

Jane marches directly towards her and dumps her purse on the bar. "You can't stay mad at me forever, you know," she snaps in lieu of a normal greeting.

Darcy frowns and folds her arms over her chest. It's just like Jane to come in and start demanding things. "Hello, Judas, welcome to The Alley Cat," she says dryly. "What can I get you?"

"Darcy," Jane sighs. "I'm sorry about the bad date. It was a co-worker's son and the way she talked him up made him sound really great."

She snorts derisively. "Of course his mother would talk him up. She has a failure-to-launch situation on her hands and wants that loser out of her house, I'm sure."

Jane chokes out a laugh. "I'm really sorry. Don't be mad at me."

"I have a new best friend now," Darcy shrugs. She's being a brat, she knows, but sometimes she really feels like Jane only cares about their friendship when it's convenient and that's pretty shitty.

"Yes, I know," Jane says tightly. "You mentioned that on several voicemails and texts that night of the bad date. But I came here tonight with a peace offering and I am hoping I can move up on your list again."

Darcy eyes the woman dubiously though she is definitely curious. "It'll have to be one hell of a peace offering, Dr. Foster."

"Ouch," Jane cringes. "You are pissed."

"If you think this all has to do with that bad blind date then you really aren't as smart as you think you are. Excuse me; I have to go refill Jonesy's whiskey." Darcy turns and walks to the other end of the bar to take care of her regulars.

She's probably being a little too hard on Jane and perhaps she should listen to what the woman has to say. "Okay," Darcy sighs when she returns to stand in front of her friend. "I'm being a bigger bitch than this situation requires. What is this peace offering, then?"

"There's a children's charity event next week and Pepper Potts needs a photographer. I recommended you."

Darcy arches an eyebrow. "I appreciate the job, but I really need to work on—"

"Captain America will be there," Jane interrupts.

"Shut. The. Front. Door!" Darcy yells and giggles like the school girl she hasn't been for ages while jumping up and down behind the bar. "You sure do pull out the big guns when necessary."

Jane shrugs and gives her a warm smile. "I missed my friend and I know I screwed it up. I'm sorry, Darcy."

"Thank you. I'm sorry, too. Just please promise me you won't try and set me up again. Ever."

"I promise," Jane says so solemnly they both burst into giggles. "I also promise to make more time for you and not be such a shitty friend."

"You're not a shitty friend, Jane, you just…I don't know, need to make room for things other than science from time to time and that should include me. Deal?"

Jane nods and smiles brightly. "Deal."

"Alright, let's hug it out." Darcy holds her arms open and leans across the bar to wrap them around her petite friend. "How long do you suppose it will take to make Captain America fall in love with me at this thing?" Darcy asks when she pulls away from the hug. Jane laughs and shakes her head.

"Go fetch me a drink, bar wench," Jane teases with a wave of her hand, and Darcy does an exaggerated curtsey.


It's almost closing time and the only person left in the bar is ol' faithful Jonesy. He never misses last call. Darcy slaps his bill down on the bar in front of him with a cup of coffee. "That ain't whiskey," he grumbles, but slides the cup closer, lifts it to his lips.

"Good eye, Jones. Now, drink up and go home," Darcy orders, walking away to stack all of the chairs and barstools on the tables.

The front door opens and Darcy rolls her eyes; there's no way she's keeping the bar open even one minute past scheduled and this person needs to go away. "We're closed," she hollers, turning over a barstool. Okay, so technically they're not closing for another fifteen minutes, but this person doesn't need to know that.

"M'not drinkin'," Steve says casually. "Just here to see a woman about a dog." He folds his arms across his chest and stands in the doorway, watching Darcy with an amused smile.

Darcy turns around, a smirk over her full lips, and feels her bad mood ebb away. "Hey, stranger!" Her smirk turns into a full-fledged grin as Steve walks through the bar. Christ, the gray Henley shirt he's wearing fits him like skin and defines his exceptional muscles. It's really not fair that he always looks so damn good. She meets him in the middle, laughing when he unexpectedly lifts her off her feet in a crushing hug.

Steve swings her around playfully, nose buried in her hair to drink in the apple scent of her shampoo, before setting her back down again. She laughs up at him, this big, bright sound, blue eyes sparkling happily. "Hey, Darce," he grins.

"Missed you, big guy," she tells him, swatting his stomach with the back of her hand before walking behind the bar. "As for your dog—you've been gone for two weeks. I'm pretty sure Sarge loves me more than you. Just sayin'."

Steve sits down on a barstool. "That so?" he chuckles.

"Mhmm," she nods. Darcy rests her elbows on the bar, cocks her head to the side, and smiles at him. Not for the first time does she think how unfair it is that he has such long, thick eyelashes that she'd kill for. "Can I get you anything?"

"Nah, I'm good. Just came to see you." He shrugs and gives her a slow, lazy smile that crinkles the corners of his blue eyes.

There's a weird flip in her belly accompanied by a wave of butterflies and she's not sure what to make of that. Darcy tamps those feelings down and gives him another friendly smile. "Well, I'm glad you did, Rogers. How'd everything go? Did you get the bad guys?"

Steve barks out a laugh and briefly glances down at the bar before meeting Darcy's amused stare again. "Yeah. Yeah, I got some bad guys, Darce."

Darcy clasps her hands together and tucks them playfully under her chin. "My hero. Oh!" she exclaims, slapping her palm down on the bar. "Speaking of, I have very exciting news!"

Her enthusiasm makes him laugh and whatever is responsible for that look on her face, he can't wait to hear. "I'm intrigued."

Jonesy staggers over, fumbling for his wallet. "Hold that thought," Darcy says. "Want me to call you a cab, Jones?"

"The train'll do, thanks," he answers gruffly and tosses a few bills onto the bar. "See ya next time, sweetheart."

"Goodnight," Darcy calls after him. She calculates her meager tip and frowns. "Cheap bastard," she mutters.

Steve gives her a sympathetic look. "Rough night?"

"Slow night," she corrects, shaking her head. "Lousy tips. I need a beer. You want a beer?"

"I've got beer at my place. Why don't I help you with these chairs and then we can get some food, hang out, maybe watch a movie? Unless you're too tired—I just—you usually like to unwind after working the bar."

There's that stirring again, and her lips curve slowly. "Yes. Best offer I've had all week."

"It's only Tuesday," he tosses back, a crooked grin on his face, watching her walk around from behind the bar.

Darcy rolls her eyes and chokes out a dry laugh. "For that lame joke you have to earn my exciting news. Better start stacking, pretty boy."

Steve smirks and arcs a brow at her. "You think I'm pretty?"

"The prettiest," she teases, batting her eyelashes playfully.

He grins and pushes up off the barstool. "Bet I can stack these chairs faster than you."

Darcy snorts and pats him on the cheek. "Oh, Steve, you say that like I'm going to try and win. It is a good thing you're pretty."

Steve grabs her wrist and spins her, looping his left arm around her shoulders, and proceeds to give her a noogie. Darcy squeals his name, laughing and wriggling to get free of his grasp. He laughs and lowers his right hand, keeping his left arm wrapped firmly around her, and tickles her ribs.

"Steve!" she squeals again, but he is undeterred in his efforts to tickle her. "Stop it, you're hurting me!" And just as quickly as he'd grabbed her he drops his hands and takes a deliberate step back from her.

"Shit. I'm sorry, Darcy," he says soberly. "I was just playing—"

Darcy turns around and the corner of her mouth ticks up impishly. "Sucker!" she taunts.

Steve blows out a relieved breath, grateful he didn't actually hurt her. Sometimes his strength gets the better of him even though he always holds back. "Dirty pool, Darce," he tells her.

She winks and sets to turning over chairs.


"So—?" Steve asks as Darcy turns the last lock on The Alley Cat and dumps the keys in her oversized bag.

Darcy shivers and reaches for the zipper of her black leather jacket, wishing she'd grabbed a scarf before she left her apartment. She knows what he's after, but she's having fun dragging out the suspense of her news. He tried guessing while they were stacking chairs, but her lips remained sealed. "Yeah?" she asks, one eyebrow cocking up.

Steve rolls his eyes. "C'mon! Your big news—let's hear it."

She smirks and starts walking; Steve quickly falls in step beside her. "Jane stopped in tonight."

"That's your big news?" he asks, disappointed.

Darcy giggles and hip checks him. He staggers a little on his feet, but since he's roughly the size of a truck, she's fairly certain he did that just to humor her. "No, wise guy, it isn't. As I was saying, Jane came by and apologized. We're friends again."

Steve smiles down at her as they wait at a crosswalk. It was about time. "Happy to hear that. You missed her, even if you didn't wanna admit it."

She stares at him, blinking slowly, her insides going all swimmy over how well he's come to know her. Her lips curve and she nudges him with her elbow.

"What was that for?" he asks.

"How well you know me," she says softly. Darcy shrugs and turns her eyes forward, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "It's nice." The light changes and they cross the street in comfortable silence. "Anyway," she starts up again once they're on the sidewalk, "Jane came with a peace offering. She scored me a photography gig next week and guess who's gonna be there!"

"No idea," Steve says evenly, though from the excitement in her voice, he can take a pretty good guess. "Captain America?"

"Yes!" she all but shouts, bouncing on the balls of her feet in front of him. "Captain America! Can you believe it?" Darcy throws back her head and lets out an enthusiastic whoop that dissolves into raucous laughter.

Steve finds her excitement infectious and laughs at the little dance she's doing as they round the corner to their street. There's a tiny part of him that's nervous about it, worried that she might recognize him and get pissed for all he hasn't told her about himself. It's not that he doesn't want to tell her who he is, he does, absolutely, and she's the first person he's trusted enough outside his team to keep his secret. But the bitch of it all is his feelings for her and her crush on his alter ego.

He wants her to want Steve Rogers.

His secret will keep a little longer.

"C'mon, Darce," he says, grabbing her hand to pull her along. "You can go crazy for Cap later. I wanna get home and see my dog."


Darcy plops down next to Steve on his couch and passes him the big bowl of popcorn. "What are we watching?" he asks, shoveling a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

"Friday the 13th. It's truly cheesetastic and terrible."

He huffs out a laugh. "Then why are we watching it?" he asks skeptically.

She grabs a handful of popcorn and smiles. "Because sometimes it's fun to just hate-watch movies or shows and openly mock them."

"If you say so," he shrugs. "What's it about?"

"Camp counselors being stalked and murdered by a chainsaw-wielding-hockey-mask-wearing psycho."

"Sounds great," he retorts sarcastically.

"Don't worry, Steve. If the movie gets too scary for ya, you can just hold my hand," she teases.

A slow grin sneaks its way across Steve's face and his eyes flick down to where her hand rests on her thigh. "Good to know," he murmurs. He wraps a hand around hers and laces their fingers together.

Her hand warms in his and she swallows the imaginary lump in her throat before turning wide eyes his direction. "Steve," she says hoarsely. Her heart is hammering so hard in her chest she can't hear anything over the roar of it, and it feels like her stomach is doing gymnastics.

Steve whispers her name, eyes glancing down at her lips and back up again. His eyes are so warm and blue as he leans in closely. She sucks in a breath and shuts her eyes. A shiver runs the length of her spine when his lips land on hers. His other hand curves gently around her jaw, fingertips brushing against her earlobe as he licks into her mouth. Her foot tickles and she tries to shake it off, focusing instead on her first kiss with Steve. The sensation in her foot doesn't stop. Reluctantly, she pushes at Steve's chest and turns her head.

Darcy's eyes blink open and it takes her a second to get her bearings. She's definitely not in her bed or even her apartment, and her pillow is most definitely Steve-shaped, his arm a warm, sure weight draped around her middle, hand pressed low against her back. What the hell? Her foot tickles again and she angles her head, sees Sarge sitting up and licking her foot. "Sarge!" she hisses. The dog stops and bows his head.

It's early still, given the dim light that's just starting to filter through the room. She's half asleep and disoriented and very much curled up next to Steve on the couch with their legs tangled together. He sighs in his sleep, his breath a warm tickle against her neck. The last thing she remembers is sitting next to Steve watching the movie, both of them laughing and yelling at the idiot characters to run. She'd been tired, sure, but…how did she go from that to having dreams about kissing her best friend and waking up next to him. Seriously. What the hell?

What she needs to do is go home and sleep and avoid any potentially awkward conversations with Steve that could upset the balance of their friendship. She tries to slowly extricate herself out of Steve's arms, being extra careful not to wake him. Steve shifts and pulls her closer. "Darcy," he murmurs and buries his nose in her hair. Her heart skips and the butterflies she felt last night in the bar are back in full force. Uh oh.

She tells herself to get up and leave.

She snuggles closer and goes back to sleep.