Notes:

Chapter title inspired by Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner by Fall Out Boy.

My goal is to update two fics a week, once on Monday or Tuesday and then again on Thursday or Friday, so each one is updated every other week. I want to try to work my way down to only two fics, so that I can update them every week, but my muse isn't really cooperating on that front. So please be patient.

Please enjoy!

Everything Has Changed

Chapter 11: Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner

Clint sat at the kitchen table, his specialized quiver partially disassembled in front of him at she cleaned sand and grit out of the gears. Darcy danced around the room, a cookbook propped up on the bulk of the quiver that Clint wasn't using, pulling down ingredients and spices together on the kitchen island.

"What's for dinner?" Clint asked, distractedly as he used a small air can to puff dried grit out of the well that held one of his arrowheads.

"Making pizza," Darcy told him, dropping a couple of green peppers on the counter along with a can of stewed tomatoes. "Or pizzas, with the way the boys eat."

"Need help?" he blew gently over the arrowhead and replaced it into its holder. "I can chop and stir."

"Don't let him fool you," Steve told her has be placed a kiss against her hair on his way to the living room. "Man would burn water if it were possible."

"I am not that bad," Clint sounded mildly offended. "I make a mean pot of coffee, I'll have you know."

"Then he drinks directly out of the pot," Natasha called as she slammed the screen door shut and made her way to the stairs, back from where ever she'd been hiding.

"Talking to me again, Nat?" Clint asked quietly, looking down the shaft of an arrow and putting it aside. The other spy just shrugged her shoulders and continued up the stairs without looking back.

"You didn't talk to her, did you?" Darcy asked, leaving an onion and knife on a chopping block for Clint to get to when he was done with his current task. "Diced fine, please."

"Couldn't find her," he told her. "Not that I looked too hard. She took her weapons case with her, and when she's pissed, she doesn't pull her hits with her bites."

"Bucky said she never pulls them with him," Darcy mused.

"He made Darcy kiss each spot Tasha hit," Steve called from the living room.

"You gonna kiss my owies better, too?"

"No, she's not," Bucky jumped the last few steps and dropped onto the couch next to Steve, stealing his tablet. Darcy caught Bucky's eye and dropped a quick kiss against the archer's cheek. "Brat." She flashed him a bright smile and bounced back into the kitchen to work on her sauce.

"Onions, Hawk boy," she pointed to the cutting board with a wooden spoon. "Buck, be useful and get the mixer down for me."

"I don't know, baby girl," Bucky smirked. "You kissing on someone else, don't make me want to help you much."

"Steve," Darcy batted her eyelashes at the other super soldier. "You wanna help me?" she gave him big innocent eyes.

"For a price," Steve said slowly, not moving an inch from the couch.

"Anything you want, soldier boy," she grinned over her shoulder and swished her hips at him.

"To be determined at a later date," Steve finished, eyeing his girl.

"Done," she hoped over to the other side of the kitchen and pointed to the mixer. "See Buck, now you missed out on a favor."

"Don't need one, doll," Bucky kicked his feet up on the coffee table and started reading the intel that the two spies brought with them. "I got a sweet dame warming my bed and a big punk to keep us both happy, don't need no extra favors, got all I need." Darcy smiled at him and walked over, dropping herself down in his lap, abandoning her sauce.

"I love you, Bucky," she curled her hands around his face and pulled him into a long, slow kiss. "Steve, stir the tomatoes for me."

"Sure thing, sweetheart," he watched as Bucky curled his arms around their girl and she pillowed her head against his shoulder. "Clint, I may need more than just chopping help. How do you feel about making pizza dough?" Clint just groaned and dropped his air can.

"You may regret asking," he told the captain.

"Might do," Steve conceded. "But that sight is worth a few million bad pizzas," he pointed over to the two curled up on the couch, Bucky's flesh hand rubbing up and down Darcy's back as they both read from Steve's tablet, their heads close together.

"Yeah," Clint smiled slightly. "Must be nice."

"I'm sorry," the captain clapped his friend on the shoulder.

"Most of the time things with Nat are great," the archer told his friend. These three had only seen the bad in his and Natasha's relationship recently. There was a lot of good, too. "We'll get this sorted, too." Steve just nodded and went to stir the sauce before it burned. "We've been together for the better part of ten years, Cap. We've had plenty of ups and downs; it's been worse that a little jealousy before. I've spent my fair share of nights on the couch, and we've had some blow up fights, we always find a way."

"You aren't looking for more?" Steve asked, curious. "You don't want love?"

"Natasha loves me in her own way," Clint dumped a cup full of flour into a mixing bowl and checked the recipe again. "I'm not looking for anything more. Would I like someone to be soft and warm with, who would touch me the way Darcy touches you guys? It would be nice, but I'm happy with what I've got."

Neither of the boys saw the shadow move away from the top of the stairs, silently disappearing back down the hall, nor did they hear the soft click of the guestroom door behind her.

Darcy slipped from Bucky's lap, leaving the new Hydra intel to the professionals. She appreciated that they shared their information with her, but the more she knew, the more she worried about her friends' safety. Steve and Clint seemed to have dinner in hand, as long as she didn't look too closely at the mess that Clint was making.

She slipped up the stairs, not bothering to try and be quiet. Darcy could feel the weight of Natasha's presence in the guestroom as she made her way down the hall. She hesitated for a moment at her own bedroom door, mentally preparing herself for the confrontation with the Black Widow. She didn't have a clue what to say to the other woman, she didn't owe her anything. If anything, Natasha owed her an apology, though Darcy knew that wouldn't happen.

She drew a long slow breath trying to calm her rapidly beating heart before laying her knuckles against the door. Facing the Black Widow scared was just a bad idea. She used the breathing technique that Bucky had drilled into her head to use when she was shooting, slow in and out to drop her heart rate down so it wouldn't interfere with long range precision shooting. When she could feel her heart drop into control, Darcy gently rapped her knuckles against the guestroom door.

"I was wondering if you'd work up the nerve," Natasha said through the opening door, turning her back on Darcy to sit back on the bed. "You gonna stand in the door or come in?"

"I haven't decided," Darcy confessed.

"I'm not going to shoot you," she nodded to the locked weapons case on the single chair in the room.

"Like you need a gun to kill me," Darcy hesitated as she closed the door behind her, leaning back against it, feeling the lock engage with a distressing click.

"Smart girl," the assassin lounged back on the bed, threading her fingers behind her head. "We both know that I won't hurt you."

"Not physically," Darcy countered. "But that's not what I'm here for."

"Then what are you here for, little girl? You want to talk about my feelings?" Natasha scoffed, her eyes flicking up and down the younger woman. "You going to dress me down for not being a good little woman for Barton?"

"Not my business," Darcy told her, feeling Natasha's anger and discomfort against her skin, though it didn't show on the assassin's face, it burned against Darcy's mind. "I'm not a therapist, nor do I want to interfere in other's relationships."

"You were doing a good job sticking your nose in when you were down by the pond," Natasha told her, a sneer curling her lips.

"Clint chose to share," Darcy said, her eyes locking onto Natasha's. "If you friend wishes to share with me, I'm not going to turn him down."

"Make friends quickly, do you?"

"Nothing wrong with that," the younger woman said. "What I'm here for, is to let you know you're welcome to come down stairs and join us. We've invited you into our home. If you can drop the bitchy jealousy act, I'd like it if you'd come down and relax with us. You need it after all the running you guys have been doing."

"You didn't invite me anywhere, little girl, and this isn't' your home."

"We both know, if I asked Steve, he'd tell you to leave," Darcy shrugged, opening the door to leave. "Invitations open, doesn't mean you have to take it." She turned her back on Natasha. "You think on it. We'll be down stairs making dinner. I'm not saying we should be best girlfriends and braid each other hair, but I'm here."

Natasha said nothing as the younger woman closed the door behind her, her footsteps carrying her back down the stairs. Natasha leaned her head back against the wall, eyes turning towards the ceiling, not sure what to do.

Darcy bounced back down the stairs, steering Clint away from the mixer, where he was busy over mixing the pizza dough, dropping the ruined flour and water concoction into the opened trash can and starting over without changing a beat.

"What were you doing up stairs, sneaky girl?" Steve curled his arms around her waist.

"Just checking on our spider," she patted his arms as she added warm water and sugar to the yeast. "Want everyone to feel welcome." Steve nodded and kissed the top of her head, moving away to tend to the simmering pizza sauce.

"She'll come down when she's ready, Darce," Clint dropped down onto a kitchen chair, resuming his work on his quiver. "How on earth did I get glitter stuck in this thing?" he used the air can to send a burst of air into one of the arrow wells, and sure enough, a few specks of bright pink glitter floated out and landed on the table.

"You shouldn't bring your weapons to the strip clubs, hotshot," Darcy winked over her shoulder.

"I didn't," Clint took a moment and thought about it. "Oh."

"You didn't," Steve just looked at the archer, an unreadable expression on his face.

"It was an Op," Clint looked down at the stray glitter on the table. "I certainly don't know how the shit got into my quiver."

"You know," Bucky grinned evilly at the room in general. "You're not supposed to touch the girls."

"I didn't," Clint sputtered. "There was no touching, it was an Op."

"You especially shouldn't touch them and then handle your weapon afterwards, bird boy," Darcy teased. "You don't know what kind of strange glitter you'll pick up."

"You guys suck," the archer brushed the offending pink sparkles off the table, inadvertently sticking some to his hand.

"Well, Bucky does anyway," Steve chuckled. Clint's head hit the table with a defeated thunk.

"It was a Hydra front," he tried one last time.

"Keep telling yourself that, Sparkles," Darcy grinned at Clint affectionately.

Notes:

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