Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Chapter 5
May 3, 2012 – Brooklyn, New York
"J-Man, you got an extra com so I can keep in touch with you?"
"There is an earpiece in the drawer next to the controls."
Darcy retrieved it and fitted it over her ear, satisfied that it worked just fine.
"Might I also recommend the mask. The air is quite thin with the high altitude – "
"Thanks, Jay."
Her body was thrumming with anticipation and she wanted nothing more than to be back on the ground, safe in her little farmhouse. Preferably with Clint. There was no way that she'd be leaving here without him. Come hell or high water, she'd wrangle his stubborn ass back into her borrowed quinjet.
Scouring the jet caused her to come up with a grappling gun, a few widow bites, and now the mask. In her own opinion, she looked pretty kick ass with her catsuit and big boots and the half mask that allowed her to breath without dying. She was a little concerned because she didn't know how far she could push her body without breaking, but her journals indicated that she was a force to be reckoned with. She had to take her at her own word, she supposed.
Her eyes caught movement and suddenly a helicarrier was right in front of her. "Holy shit."
"Would you like me to drop you off at the entrance or would you like to accost Mr. Barton while he attempts to take down the helicarrier?"
Darcy spotted Clint shooting seemingly in the wrong direction before his arrow was blown back into one of the engines of the carrier.
"This is gonna suck," she mumbled mostly to herself before she shook her head. "Get me as close as you can and then hover nearby if possible. I don't want to fall to my death if I can avoid it."
"Of course, Ms. Lewis. Good luck."
When the back of the quinjet opened, Darcy took one breath to steal her nerves before literally diving out of the plane. The air whipped around her face and she was thankful for the little mask. She did a tuck and roll, landing on the edge of the helicarrier just as it exploded.
"JARVIS, what the fuck!"
"Apologies, Ms. Lewis. Mr. Barton has detonated his arrow, causing the engine to malfunction."
"For the love of Thor," she groaned, hanging by the edge as the engine sputtered. Her leg swung up and she managed to get herself safely onto the part of the engine that wasn't on fire. "I've gotta have a death wish."
With a running leap, she jumped onto the center of the engine, her knees smacking against the unforgiving metal as she assessed the damage. Clint's arrow had completely blown it out, but if she could manually start it, it might keep the carrier in the sky. She wasn't sure how many engines this thing had, but she'd do her best.
"JARVIS, can you connect me to Tony?"
"Yes, Ms. Lewis."
Darcy grabbed a blade from her back and dug it into the metal of the wing, hoping it would keep her from being bucked off as it nosedived once again.
"Short stack, what're you doing here? Barton's gonna shoot me again," Tony whined as he sidled up next to her in his full Iron Man suit. "What do we got here…"
"Super conducting cooling system needs to get back online," Darcy said, pointing towards the center of the swirling vortex of death. "Then you can fly to the rotors and work on getting all the shit outta there that doesn't belong."
"Damn. Gonna keep you around, short stack." Tony flew to the other side and spoke into his com as he surveyed the damage. He used his repulsor to blast a piece of metal away from the rotors. "You plannin' on going inside? Clint's trying to get to Reindeer Games and - "
"On it."
"Who the hell is that?"
"Short stack, Capsicle. She's here for Barton."
Steve blinked out the gaping hole of the engine and focused on the slender form of a girl. She didn't seem too tall, but she was able to swing herself around on the wing like she was born to do it. He nearly had a heart attack when he watched her grab a stray wire and swing past him into the helicarrier.
"You sure she's not planning on killing him?"
"Not really my problem!"
The catwalk was rickety beneath her feet, but she knew she was light enough to move soundlessly. Clint was in front of her, walking stiffly with purpose.
"Clint – wait! Hold on!"
It took her by surprise when he turned around and shot an arrow at her. She narrowly avoided it by swinging herself off the catwalk and back on again, her foot collided with his chest and threw him against the railing when she found her feet once more.
"I'm not gonna hurt you! Stop it!"
His hand wrapped around her throat and held her up, the tips of her boots barely touching the ground.
"Clint! Please!" She gasped out. When he didn't let go, she pulled another blade from her back and slashed his arm. Her knees slammed against the harsh metal of the ground and she struggled to get breath in her lungs as his foot seemingly came out of nowhere and kicked her halfway across the catwalk. Doing a backwards summersault, she ended up back on her feet, dodging his hit as he tried to smack her with his bow. Her fingers wound around the string and pulled it back, grimacing when she heard it bounce off his face.
As soon as Clint staggered back, she grabbed his left arm and shoved his face against the railing, cringing when she heard a sickening smack.
He slipped to the ground and looked up at her, the blue tint still coloring his eyes. "Darcy?"
She hauled back and punched him hard. And again. And again.
It wasn't until he was slumped against the ground unconscious that she timidly asked, "JARVIS?"
"Yes, Ms. Lewis?"
She swallowed. "Can you connect me to Talia?"
"Romanoff."
Darcy sobbed at the sound of her voice. "Can you come get me and Clint? We're on a catwalk on…fuck the south side of the carrier? Ask JARVIS. He's got a quinjet waiting and I need to get out of here."
"I'm on my way, myshka."
Natasha had wanted to go back to Stark Tower, but Darcy had deemed that to be out of the question as soon as JARVIS had informed them that the Avengers would be there shortly. Clint needed some time just work through what had happened to him.
They'd carried him in and made him comfortable on the couch. The women were waiting on pins and needles, hoping he'd wake up soon. Darcy had switched her com off, but Natasha had kept hers on, communicating with Tony occasionally.
"What the hell," Clint slurred, struggling to get up.
"Stand down, soldier," the brunette warned as she sat on the coffee table and took his hand. "You're gonna be fine."
His green eyes were normal, no hint of blue to be seen. However, his agitation was palpable as he squeezed the living hell out of her hand and tried to get up once more. "You know that? Is that what you know? That I'm gonna be all right?" He pulled away from her. "I gotta go in, though. I gotta flush him out."
Natasha set her hand on his leg and shook her head. "You have to level out. It's going to take some time."
"You don't understand! Have you ever had someone take your brain and play with it? Pull you out and stuff something else in? You know what it's like to be unmade?"
The redhead glanced at Darcy and gave a curt nod. "You know that I do. We both do."
He sighed, losing the steam that had accumulated. He sat back down against the pillows and gave them a lazy look. "Why am I back? How'd you get him out?"
"Cognitive recalibration."
"I hit you really hard in the head."
They both spoke at the same time.
"Thanks," he said, looking between them and rubbing his head thoughtfully. "Loki get away?"
Natasha nodded. "Yeah. Don't suppose you know where?"
"Didn't need to know," he shrugged, reaching for Darcy's hand and kissing the back of it. "He's gonna make his play soon though. Today." His green eyes gave her a stern look. "Don't think that we're not gonna talk about this. I see that Kevlar."
She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. "We'll talk about it after New York is safe and sound."
"C'mon, sweetheart. Let's go kick some ass."
"JARVIS is going to drop Darce off at the tower, Nat you need to go figure out what's going on in the streets, and I'm going to find Cap and put some arrows in these sons of bitches."
Darcy tightened her laces and reloaded her pistol. "Erik's on the roof of the tower, right?"
Clint shifted, looking over his shoulder in the quinjet. "Don't you even think about going up there. I'll tie you down in the damned apartment – "
"Kinky."
"Darcy!"
"I'm not going to sit this out! I saved your ass on the helicarrier and I'm gonna fight for what's right now. Talia – "
"She can handle herself, Clint," Natasha interjected, strapping a blade to her thigh. "Tony will be close and Bruce can control the bulk of it. She's friends with Selvig; it might be a good thing." She peered out the small window and tapped a button, letting the back of the jet open up. "Come on, Barton. We've got to get this under control."
Clint rolled his eyes and unstrapped himself. "JARVIS, drop Darcy off on the roof."
In a matter of seconds both Avengers dropped down into the fray as the quinjet soared upwards. She strapped the mask back on her face just in case. As soon as they reached the top of the tower, she sighed and jumped out, landing gracefully on the balcony.
"You're not what I expected."
Darcy whirled around and was met with the sight of a tall man in a green and gold outfit, a ridiculous golden horned helmet on top of his dark-haired head. He was lean and ridiculously fit. And definitely not what she expected.
"Likewise, horned serpent."
He cocked his head at her, a scepter materializing in his hand. "You are not the man of iron. Nor are you the soldier…not the archer or the arachnid." His lips quirked up in a smirk. "You're a child…are you not?"
"I'm older than you think," she answered. "You're Loki."
"God of Mischief, at your service, m'lady," he said, bowing with a flourish. "I truly hope they didn't send you here alone to stop me. It would be devastating to destroy something so beautiful."
She scoffed behind her mask. "Dude, go back to wherever you're from. Earth is at its capacity for visitors."
Loki raised his scepter and placed it against her chest. "You'll be useful to me."
"Get away from her!"
A red, white, and blue shield swung past her face and knocked the scepter out of Loki's hand, causing the God to turn and snarl at the newcomer. "The soldier. Can never mind your own business, can you?"
"Civilians are my business."
"Ah, but she's not a civilian, is she?"
Darcy ignored the man behind her and lunged at the other, knocking him onto his back. She straddled his waist and kicked her boot up, pulling the blade hidden there. A moment longer and it was buried in his side, causing him to throw her off of him and off the balcony all together.
She screamed for only a second before she pulled the grappling gun from her belt and shot it towards the tower, praying it latched onto something. A sharp tug had her hanging onto the gun for dear life as she swung through one of the windows and broke the glass.
"Motherfuck," she growled, prying a piece of glass out of her thigh. It wasn't that deep, but it was bleeding like hell. She ripped off her boot and took off her long sock, tearing it down the middle and wrapping it around her thigh.
The com buzzed in her ear and Clint's frantic voice assaulted her.
"Where the hell are you? I saw you get thrown off the fucking building like a ragdoll. Cap's up there by himself. Stay where you are – "
"I'm making my way down to the ground floor. Send Tony up to deal with Loki," she hauled herself to her feet and shook out her limbs. She was about ten stories up from the street and she sighed. "I'll be there in five."
"Darcy – "
She switched off the com and jumped out the window. She had a city to save.
Steve watched as the girl careened off the balcony. He screamed out for her, but she was already gone. Running to the railing, he watched as she whipped herself through a window below and breathed a sigh of relief.
"How touching."
The blond picked up his shield from where it had bounced of the ground and struck blindly at the God. His fist connected with the other man's jaw and sent him reeling just as Tony soared onto the balcony.
"Cap, get to short stack. She's running around in the streets, but JARVIS told me she's hurt. Sliced up her leg somehow. Get down there and get her to medical."
Steve wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, grimacing at red stain on his suit. "I'll get to her. Tony…don't follow Loki. Nothing good can come from it."
Tony put his mask down and gave Steve a curt nod before flying away to chase the God of Mischief.
He took inventory of his pain, noticing that his ribs were just a bit sore, but all in all he was fine.
"Cap! You gotta help me. I'm near the bank on – "
"JARVIS will get me there, Barton. What's going on?" Steve leapt down a couple of stories, landing on one of the Chitauri's bikes and shoving the alien off. It wasn't that much different than landing the Valkyrie – down meant down in All-Speak.
"There was a bomb," his voice was shaky and there was so much noise in the background. "I can't get her out. She got the civilians out, but – "
The blond swallowed hard when he heard the other man's voice break. He pushed the flying machine harder, jumping off of it when he reached the crumbled remains of the bank. The whole front of it was collapsed in on itself with civilians literally running for their lives down the street.
A second bomb went off and Steve threw up his shield to protect himself from the debris. He'd have to climb on top of it to get inside.
"I'm on my way, Barton."
There was a choked sob as a reply and a muttered, "Hurry."
Using his shield, he dug out enough rubble to reveal an opening. He dropped down inside it and surveyed the scene, his eyes finding the archer trying to lift what looked like a piece of the roof that had fallen.
"Barton, move."
"I can't," he rasped out, his jaw clenched in exertion. "If I let it down, it'll kill her."
Steve gave him a curt nod and strode over to help him. His hand gripped the stone slab and he hauled, only briefly surprised when it shifted almost completely. He watched as Clint grabbed his girlfriend, panic written across his face.
The girl had some sort of mask along the lower half of her face and her dark hair was untied from how it had been earlier. She looked so…small. Black smudges covered her eyes and he dropped the stone as soon as she was clear.
"C'mon, sweetheart. Open those baby blues for me," Clint coaxed, checking for her pulse. His face lost even more color as he waited, suddenly ripping her mask away and sealing his mouth over hers.
Steve turned away. His cheeks were tinted with embarrassment. It was too intimate to watch –
"She's not fucking breathing!"
His head whipped back around and he collapsed to his knees next to her. His hand went to her ribs and he winced. "Something's broken, Barton. Maybe even punctured. She's gotta get to medical – "
"That won't be helpful if she's not breathing!" Clint growled as he started compressions. He glared up at Steve and demanded, "At least hold her head. I don't know if she broke anything else. She fell really hard."
It was impressive that the archer managed to get that out between mouth to mouth and compressions, but he'd never been one to slow down.
The blond awkwardly shuffled towards her head and straightened in out, glancing down at her face when it wasn't obscured by Clint's. She looked familiar. Her lips were full and her eyelashes brushed against her cheeks. Brown hair wrapped around his fingers and he stilled.
He felt her lips at the base of his throat and tangled his fingers in the wild curls of her hair to hold her closer.
"Nat, I need airlift to the – yes." Clint let out a breath of relief as the girl's chest rose.
Steve shook his head to clear his thoughts of his girl and turned around, speaking into the com while the archer fussed over his girlfriend. "Have medical on standby at the tower."
"What happened to my myshka, Steve?"
"A building fell on her."
There was mild cursing on the other end of the com – mild for the Russian's normal temperament, anyway – and he watched Clint scoop his girlfriend into his arms.
"I'm gonna need your help to get outta here, Steve," he said, shifting her mostly to one side and strapping his bow to his back with his free arm.
"You shouldn't be moving her – "
"Her ribs are healed," he said sharply, "'m more worried about all the shit she breathed in and if her bones are settin' right."
May 5, 2012 – Manhattan, New York – Stark Tower – Medical Wing
"She needs a blood transfusion."
Clint gritted his teeth and shook his head. "I'm not a match. She's O Negative…"
Natasha perked up from her chair on the other side of Darcy's bed. "The serum isn't regenerating it?"
The doctor looked over his clipboard and shook his head. "The injury in her leg actually cut an artery. It's a miracle that she was able to clear out that building before it came down on top of her. The serum, while different that what you've received, Ms. Romanoff, is working overtime with trying to repair the fractures and breaks that she endured. I'm afraid a blood transfusion is absolutely necessary at this point."
Clint stared down at his hands, itching for his bow so he could shoot an arrow through the ass that the God of Thunder called his brother. Loki had been taken to Asgard while New York tried to repair itself – mainly with the funding of Tony Stark.
"Wait, there's someone on the team with her blood type," he said, recalling seeing it when he'd flicked through files.
Natasha's eyes met his and she was out of the room before the doctor could get a word in edgewise.
Steve did his best to be involved with the rebuilding of New York – particularly Manhattan. He didn't want to be stuffed in the tower while Barton clambered over every flat surface to thank him and then hole himself up in the medical ward.
His dreams had been haunting him. Barton's girlfriend had pulled something to the surface that he'd buried deep down inside about missing his girl. The way that the archer had held his girlfriend in his arms, the emotion in his voice when he was trying to rescue her, the way he hoisted her into his arms despite being worse for wear and carried her to safety.
Barton reminded him of Bucky sometimes, stubborn and proud. Ignoring authority if he thought he knew better.
God, he missed Darcy. He missed her little hands against his back, the way she fitted beneath his chin so perfectly even when he was still small. She knew everything there was to know about Steve Rogers. Sometimes, he wondered how she would feel about him being Captain America. Sure, she was outspoken and loud for a girl in the '30s, but how would that have rolled over to today's society?
It was weird.
He had been present when Natasha had threatened Tony with destroying no less than five suits if he didn't willingly donate his blood to her myshka.
Between myshka, short stack, and sweetheart, Steve was beginning to wonder if he'd ever find out her name. Not that they'd ever talked. And the one time he'd seen her face it had been covered with dirt and bruises and mostly Clint's face.
He shook his head and headed up to the gym. He had some energy to burn off.
May 6, 2012 – Manhattan, New York – Stark Tower – Medical Wing
Clint flat out refused to leave the hospital room that Darcy had called home for the past two days. He didn't want to miss it when she opened her eyes or if something worse were to happen.
The bruises that had covered her face were now more of a mottled yellow and green – still ugly, but not near as bad as when he found her.
Getting Tony to agree to a blood transfusion had been difficult at first, but Natasha had threatened him a hundred ways to Sunday when he finally relented with mumblings of blackmail.
"If you tell me it's been five years since I last woke up, I'll punch you in the face as soon as I get the strength to lift my arms."
Green eyes found blue and he was wrapping his arms around her before he could think better of it. "Fuck, sweetheart. What'd I tell you 'bout running into buildings – "
"Not to. But only if they're on fire," she rasped out, her fingers digging under his shirt in an attempt to ground herself. Frankly, she was tired of waking up in hospital rooms. The sterile scent and scratchy sheets – but these sheets weren't scratchy. "Where am I?"
Clint pressed his lips right below her ear and she melted in relief. "Stark Tower, medical." He pulled away and brushed her cheek softly. "A fucking building collapsed on you, sweetheart. If it wasn't for Cap, I don't think you'd be sitting here right now."
"Laying," she pointed out, making grabby hands at him so he could help her sit up. Which he did without complaint. A glance down at her arm made her wince. "What the hell happened?"
After making sure she was situated, he followed her line of sight and sighed. "You were dehydrated and needed a blood transfusion. It'll heal in a couple days. Your face already looks better – "
"Myshka."
It didn't take long for Natasha to worm her way into Darcy's bed, wrapping around her like ivy as they flipped on the television that JARVIS had alerted them was in the room. The redhead caught her up on the outcome of the battle – Clint's 'we won, duh' – and that Tony had been the unlucky person to donate blood to her.
"He complained, but he did it," Natasha said, producing a band-aide out of seemingly nowhere and stuck it in the crook of her elbow to cover up the worst of the bruises.
"Because he thought you were gonna trash his suits," the archer mumbled.
She shrugged, "It's wasn't an empty threat."
Darcy smiled at their banter and snuggled deeper against Natasha's side. She was getting tired and Clint picked up on it immediately, asking JARVIS to lower the lights in the room.
"Yes, Mr. Barton. When you're finished visiting, Sir would like to see you in his workshop."
Clint nodded sharply and got up, pressing a kiss to the corner of Darcy's lips before he looked over at Natasha. "Keep her safe while I'm gone."
"How do you know short stack?" Tony asked as soon as the door to the lab sealed behind him.
Clint looked up from his watch and scratched his head. "Uh, old friend?"
"She's eighteen."
"Her father's an old friend?"
"She's an orphan," Tony deadpanned, tossing his screwdriver down on the metal table and grabbing a towel to wipe the grease from his hands. "I don't really care about specifics, Barton, but the black market blood exchange brought up a few questions."
The archer took a seat at the cluttered metal table wearily watching the mad scientist that was still puttering around the room. "What's your question, Tony?"
The dark-haired man looked up from his computer distractedly. "Do you know how many people have my blood type?" Obviously it was rhetorical because as soon as Clint opened his mouth, he snapped it shut again because Tony kept going. "One in fifteen. One in fifteen! So, that's not super rare, I know, but it's rare enough that two people in New York – the most highly populated city, mind you – found each other when there's a fucking blood shortage is just all sorts of tuna, man."
Clint was about ready to smack his head against the table, but he refrained in hopes that Tony would get to his point eventually. "Tony – "
"The lab ran our blood together. We're related, Legolas."
He stopped, his green eyes wide as he shook his head. "No, Tony. It's not possible – "
"I was young and stupid! I probably spawned her and spurned her mother. Think of the snark, Barton! It's a wonder I didn't see it before. She's got my color hair, too. Not my eyes, but – "
"She's not your daughter, Tony," Clint bit out, throwing the abandoned screwdriver at Tony's head, only slightly saddened when the latter caught it before it could connect. "I'm positive."
"Why? Is she yours?" He asked as he slipped the screwdriver in his pocket to avoid injury.
Clint just shook his head as he stood up. "Just…run it again, Tony. I'm positive she's not your daughter. I'm headin' back up if that's all you wanted me for."
May 8, 2012 – Manhattan, New York – Stark Tower
The cut on her thigh had disappeared into nothing but a slight scar that she knew would disappear, too, if she gave it enough time. It had taken pleading with the hospital staff to be released into Clint's care, but she figured that her puppy dog eyes finally did it when they granted her the mercy of release papers.
"It looks better," Clint said, brushing his thumb along the faded mark, causing her to shiver. He stood behind where she was perched on a barstool in the kitchen.
Sometimes, she really hated when he touched her. It was hard to control herself from leaping on him. She mused that it was because she had memories of him being a child, but no longer had the firsthand knowledge of taking care of him.
Her hand captured his and held it against her leg, not wanting to part with him quite yet. She remembered how he'd tried to sleep with her so many years ago and it hurt her heart to know that she wanted him now, but it was unreciprocated.
"Sweetheart," he murmured, his thumb digging into the expanse of her ivory thigh as a ragged breath slipped between his lips. It tousled the hair on her neck and she leaned back against him, more than surprised when his other arm wound its way around her cinched waist. "You know I'm not strong enough for this, right?"
Her plush lips pressed a soft kiss under his jaw, right beneath his chin. "You don't have to be strong."
Clint ducked his head and sucked a punishing kiss along the column of her throat, laving as his teeth bit into her soft skin. With a final squeeze to her thigh, he pulled away and gave her a strained smile. "I'm not strong enough to give you what you need without needing more. I've had you in my heart since I was sixteen years old and I've wanted you in my bed for nearly as long. I can't…I can't be a one time thing, Darce. I love you too much for that."
May 12, 2012 – Manhattan, New York – Stark Tower
It was late when Steve wandered into the lounge. It was well after midnight and the only light in the room was the light by the coffee maker in the kitchen. Blue eyes scanned the room and he noticed a petite brunette curled in on herself on the couch. Her hair obscured her face and he could see her hands, peeking out from beneath her long sleeved shirt, clench and unclench.
It took him a moment to pry his eyes away from her and start a pot of coffee brewing. It would be appreciated later, he was sure.
A breathy sound caught his attention and he looked over to where Barton's girlfriend was whimpering. He had experience with nightmares, he got them occasionally, but he was torn between comforting her and calling Barton to come do it himself. It wasn't like leaving her was an option, besides, well, it was, but he was never one to run.
"James."
He froze when he was only a few steps away from her, glad that he'd left the mug on the counter because he was sure he wouldn't dropped it. Swallowing noisily, he reached out and shook her shoulder. "Uh, ma'am? Are you all right?"
She jerked awake and Steve was surprised to suddenly have his back up against the couch and a lap-full of feisty brunette. Her forearm pressed into his windpipe uncomfortably and he managed a slight cough.
"You're safe. You want me to call Barton?"
"James," she whispered so low he barely caught it.
Steve couldn't see her face, the light from the kitchen illuminated her form, leaving her face a mess of shadows even with his enhanced vision. His heart twisted at the name, but his hand found her waist as he softly said, "No, I'm – "
He never got a chance to finish because her lips crashed against his, effectively silencing any protests that tried to make themselves known. As soon as the surprise wore off he was kissing her back like his life depended on it. Her lips were so plush against his and his fingers dug into her hips, pressing her down on the arousal that was begging to be freed.
It was wrong, so wrong, but Steve Rogers had always been one to ask for forgiveness instead of permission.
He could see the glint of her teeth biting into her plump bottom lip and he was so sidetracked that he didn't notice that she wasn't wearing panties. And that she'd managed to maneuver his cock out of his jogging pants.
"Hey, hold on – holy shit."
She was as tight as a glove around him and he had to grit his teeth. He hadn't been with anyone since '36 and even then it had been just Darcy. Sweet, beautiful, soft Darcy…
A soft cry was torn from her throat and it took him a moment to realize that he'd been thrusting pretty hard from beneath her. His feet were anchored against the floor and he could feel her fingernails biting into his shoulders.
"I'm sorry," he said huskily, his hand moving from her waist and rucking her sleep shirt up so he could press his thumb against her swollen little clit. He remembered how Darcy liked it…
She snapped her mouth shut with an audible clack to keep her noises to herself and it wasn't long before her clenching cunt pulled his own orgasm from him as well.
Barton's girlfriend slumped against him, her breath ghosting across his collarbone. Hands made their way under her shirt and rubbed her spine delicately.
"You're incredible, doll," he managed to get out as he caught his breath and obviously it was the wrong thing to say.
She leapt off of him like he'd burnt her and pulled her sleep shirt down before she flitted from the room like she'd never been there at all.
The sweet slick around his cock and her panties on the ground were the only thing to let Steve know it hadn't been a dream.
Darcy awoke from the most pleasant dream. A dream she wished to relive a million times over. Hands all over her, something hard deep inside her, lips pressed against hers in such a familiar way that it made her heart ache.
She'd woken up without her normal panties, which was odd within itself, but she also woke up to something smeared down her thighs and that made her a little fidgety. There was no way that Clint would do anything like that when she wasn't awake and it definitely wasn't just from her.
"Jay, has anyone been in my room since last night?"
"No, Ms. Lewis. You've been the only occupant."
"Huh," she mused quietly. "Where's Clint?"
"Mr. Barton is entering the gym. He's been on the range for the past few hours. Shall I alert him that you'll be joining him?"
"Nah, it's okay, J-Man. Thanks."
"My pleasure, Ms. Lewis."
Maybe she'd go find Talia.
Smack. Smack. Smack!
Steve watched as another bag met its untimely end and shook his head. Three hours of destroying boxing bags hadn't left him in any better of a mood and he knew he was fucked until he came clean to Barton.
Sleeping with his girlfriend wasn't something that he'd ever planned. Hell, he didn't even know what her name was, let alone what she looked like! She was petite, had a nice bust from what Tony had said, and dark curls that he wanted to tangle his fingers in. Again.
How could he tell Barton? It wasn't something that came up in everyday conversation. Or what if she told him first? He could take Barton, but Natasha on the other hand…he didn't look forward to the legendary Widow finding out that he'd slept with her myshka. Even though said myshka did the initiating. All the initiating.
Part of him felt like scum. And not because he slept with a girl that had a partner, but because it felt like he cheated on Darcy. Technically, they never broke up, so that meant he was still with her, right? Even though she was long gone. He hadn't truly had a chance to mourn their relationship as he had her. Her and Bucky. He couldn't think of one without the other. That was his family.
"What'd that bag ever do to you?"
Steve's head jerked up at the sound of the voice, noticing Barton grabbing a few weights and looking him over. He didn't look angry.
"Maybe you should talk Tony into inventing one that can withstand super soldiers."
He nodded and gave a laugh. "That'd probably be a swell idea."
They worked in silence for a while, only serving to key Steve up more than he already was. He was no good at lying. Skirting the truth, maybe. But lying was difficult.
"So, you and Dee have a chance to talk yet?"
Steve faltered, missing the landing of the punch against the bag and letting it swing back and hit him in the face. "W-what?" He assumed that Dee was Barton's girlfriend and it got more awkward than he'd envisioned.
"Y'know, about you saving her?"
"Oh." He swallowed and shook his head, rubbing his knuckles absently. "Haven't seen her."
Barton eyed him suspiciously. "JARVIS told me she was in the lounge with you last night. Did normal rounds in the apartment and her bedroom was empty, so I asked." He shrugged, setting a weight down.
"She was sleeping on the couch," the captain offered, "I just made some coffee and left."
"Oh. Yeah, she falls asleep in strange places. Sleep walks, too."
Steve thought that was the end of the conversation until the double doors to the gym slammed open and an angry redhead was marching right up to him, pistol in hand. He wasn't ashamed to admit that he took a few steps back and held his hands up in surrender.
"What. Did. You. Do?"
Barton looked between them, dropping the weight with a dull thud as he leapt up. "Nat, what's goin' on?"
"Get out, Clint," she bit out. "That's an order."
The archer scoffed. "It's a good thing you're not my boss then – wait! Don't aim that at me!"
"Now!"
It was almost comical the way Barton scurried out. He probably would've laughed if there wasn't a gun aimed at his chest by a former Russian spy.
"JARVIS, engage privacy protocols. Widow 9-9-2-3."
"Privacy protocols engaged, Ms. Romanoff."
There was a beat before Natasha holstered her gun and smacked him upside the head so hard he was sure his eyes were doing that spinning thing like the cartoons did.
"What were you thinking?" She hissed, resisting the urge to kick him.
"What are you even talking about? I've been here all morning – "
She growled and picked up the weight Barton had dropped before chucking it at his head. "You defiled my myshka!"
"Is that what she's saying?" He managed to get out as he sidestepped the workout aid. Trying to come up with a good excuse was hard when a woman was throwing things at you.
"She doesn't remember! But, luckily, there's an AI that remembers everything, Steve. Everything."
He groaned. "It was consensual. I was going to tell Barton – "
"They are not dating, Steve. I don't know how many times I have to tell you."
"Well, if JARVIS told you about what happened, you should know that she left me in the lounge. Not the other way around!" He had to add that. It was no fair that she thought that he slept with her and ran. No, she ran out on him after rocking his world. Lord, he needed to step away from the internet.
Natasha crossed her arms over her chest and sniffed haughtily. "It doesn't excuse the fact that you don't even know her name."
"Her name's Dee," he replied, slightly proud of himself.
The redhead cocked her head, a livid expression lighting up her face. "Who the hell is Dee? Her name is Dar – "
"DARCY, GET BACK HERE!"
The privacy protocol meant nothing when Natasha had allowed her myshka to override any number of them. And where her myshka went, Barton was sure to follow, seemingly yelling and running.
"Talia! Don't kill him! I'm pretty sure killing a national icon will get you in prison."
Her voice…
"I mean, killing anyone would get you in prison, but, like, killing Captain America would be like prison without parole ever."
Steve looked over Natasha's head and spotted the brunette spitfire in all her glory with Barton trying to move between her and Natasha. She was wearing an oversized shirt and a pair of shorts that seemed to disappear underneath the shirt's hemline, leaving her legs bare. Her curls were piled on top of her head in the most familiar way, but it was her face that nearly had him crumpling against the dirty gym floor.
It was her voice. It was her body. Her lips, her waist, her hips. The way her hand was on her hip as she tried to dress down the Black fucking Widow.
It was her. His Darcy. His girl.
"Darcy…" he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. He wanted to reach out and touch her, convince himself that she was real, but Barton and Natasha stood in front of her defensively. As if he would hurt her.
"Now that is her name, Steve."
He could see it on her face the moment she heard his voice. Her head whipped up from the redhead and focused on him behind her.
"Steve?"
"Oh, honey."
He wasn't sure how she found the strength to move both of her body guards out of the way, but it was a mere matter of seconds before she had her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.
"I thought I'd lost you," he whispered against her hair, feeling her nose snug against his neck. He'd never been strong enough to hold her like this. Like Bucky had.
"I'm right here," she said wetly, only clinging tighter. "I'm right here."
"Darcy – "
"So help me Clint, if you come anywhere near me right now, I will gut you like a fish," she all but growled. The slight waver in her voice took a bit of the bite out, but Clint liked his organs exactly where they were, thank you very much.
Steve opened his eyes and could barely see through the curtain her stray curls were causing, but it was enough to see Natasha giving him a look that didn't bode very well for anything south of his waist.
"Will you spot me if I try to pry her off of him with a crowbar?" Barton stage whispered, his eyes wide.
The redhead shook her head. "This is her Stevie."
There was a beat of silence before a hushed, "Stevie? Like Stevie that took her virginity?"
Darcy whipped her head around and sniffled. "Stop climbing in the fucking vents and gossiping like an old woman!"
The blond was just more than happy to have her back in his arms. He didn't care that it was seventy years later. He didn't care that she seemed to have a weird relationship with the archer and the Widow. All he cared about what somehow, some way she was still alive and they'd made their way back to one another.
"You…you're different," she whispered against the line of his jaw when she turned back around. Blue orbs observed him unflinchingly, taking in every new detail. Granted, her mind was muddled most of the time, but she remembered Steve being…smaller. Less than he was now.
He smiled and shook his head. "Can I…can I take you back to my place?"
"Hold it, Rogers – ow! What the hell, Nat!"
Darcy stifled a giggle and nodded as she wiped the tears from under her eyes. "That'd be great, Stevie."
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~Grace
