Soon after they start 'officially' dating, Darcy steals Bruce's favorite purple silk shirt and refuses to give it back or apologize.
Bruce is sitting in the common area working on his tablet when Natasha walks out with what looks like a familiar pair of Darcy's pajamas, a water bottle, and a pill-box. He glances at her, his gaze lingering a moment on the pill-box before it returns to his project.
"Aspirin." She informs his unspoken question as the elevator chimes softly, announcing its arrival. The doors open to the sound of Darcy's voice, protesting something in a loud whine.
"- told him a duzzen times. And y'kin lemme go. M' not hilplesssss!" Bruce looks up again to find Clint leading the brunette out of the elevator with one arm around her waist, supporting most of her weight; her heels are clutched in one of her hands along with a thin wallet.
"How bad?" Natasha asks, setting her wares down on the coffee table and helping settle Darcy into an armchair before sitting on the coffee table herself.
"Wasn't lookin' too bad, then I think some guy slipped her a tampered drink so I'm not really sure," Clint answers, "I got there just as he was tryin' to get her in a taxi."
"He was cute though!" Darcy whines.
"Trust me любовь, he was not as cute as your brain thinks," Natasha soothes, brushing Darcy's hair away from her eyes and handing her the bottled water, cap off. "I crushed up two niacin tablets in it. It should help."
"Where was she?" Bruce asks, locking his tablet and leaving it on the table next to the redhead.
"Some friend's little sister was having a 21st birthday at some bar downtown. Darcy texted me when she started feeling buzzed about an hour and a half ago." Clint answers as Darcy finishes off the bottle.
"You should head to bed Clint; I've got this," Natasha states, grabbing Darcy's jacket from him, "you have an early flight." Clint looks about to protest when Bruce speaks up.
"I can take her back to her room actually," both agents turn to look at him. "Didn't you just get back a few hours ago Natasha? Darcy trusts me and I'm not going to try anything; I'll walk her to her room and make sure she gets to sleep."
"Are you sure that's-?"
"That's fine," Natasha interrupts the archer, standing up, "just make sure she changes before she passes out." She brushes past Clint, hand barely touching his before he follows her out.
"Up you get," he mutters to Darcy, sliding an arm under her shoulder and around her back, grabbing the pajamas with his free hand.
"You have reallllly fluffy hair," she slurs, "do you use a spessal fluffing shampoo?"
"Sure Darcy."
"Does Mr. Mean-green-fightin'-machine? Heesh really warm. Big too."
"Very big," Bruce agrees, leading Darcy down a hallway. They make it halfway down the hallway before Darcy stumbles away from him, heading towards a door at a fast clip. A warning dies in his throat when the door to his room opens for her.
"JARVIS?"
"I detected that Ms. Lewis was moving too quickly to stop and determined the best course of action to avoid injury," the computer states.
"Thank you," Bruce sighs, walking over to stand just inside of his room to find Darcy lying face down on his bed. "Darcy you shouldn't lay like that." She grunts but obligingly rolls over. "I'm not gonna make you move, but will you at least put on the pajamas Natasha brought you?" In response, she quickly and clumsily shoves her skinny jeans down her legs and throws them at him, hitting the wall instead. She sits up and makes grabby hands at him, prompting him to walk over and hold out the loose cotton Betty Boop sleep pants. She stares at him blankly and he helps her to her feet before kneeling down and helping her lift first one leg and then the other into them. Darcy drops back into the bed, hands falling onto his shoulders.
"Why don't you like me?" She asks, her voice suddenly clearer; he looks up at her to find her eyes clear and bright.
"I like you," he answers simply.
"But you avoid me. We kissed on my birthday, and we've gone out for coffee and lunch and now you don't like me anymore. M'I a bad kisser?" She pouts, pulling her shirt off over her head and shaking her hair out.
Bruce stands up, setting the loose tank top left by Natasha drown on the bed and very carefully not looking at the creamy skin not hidden by Darcy's bra.
"You are not a bad kisser Darcy," he chuckles.
"Then why did we stop dating?" She whines. He looks at her again to find her wearing his favorite purple button-up that he had left on the bed.
"I hadn't realized that we were," he admits amusedly as she flops back onto her back, rolling to the middle of the bed and curling around his pillow; he pulls his desk chair over and seats himself in it.
"You kissed me and bought me coffees and lunch. How did you not know?"
"Then aren't we still dating?" He asks gently, passing her a fresh water bottle from the mini-fridge in his bedside table.
"Promise?"
"Go to sleep Darcy." She does.
Darcy walks out into the common dining area the next morning in a clean pair of her jeans and still wearing his shirt. Natasha simply raises an eyebrow at him and presses a fresh cup of coffee into Darcy's hands before walking out.
"God I love that woman sometimes," Darcy moans around the rim of the cup, sitting down next to him at the island bar, leaning against his shoulder. "So I was pretty out of it most of last night, but I seem to remember someone promising that we were actually dating."
"Straight to the point then?"
"Of course, Bruce; you meant it didn't you?"
"I-of course I meant it but-,"
"Good. I don't want to hear anything about age differences or the Other Guy, and you're taking me out to dinner on Friday." She kisses his cheek before settling her head against his shoulder again, finishing her coffee. They stay that way for the rest of the morning and she wears his shirt around the tower for the rest of the week until Friday night; he never gets the shirt back, but he can't say he really minds.
A/N: Wrote this a while back, but wanted to get a few other things posted first.
Translations:
любовь = love