A/N: After some clamoring over on AO3, I wrote another chapter for you all. Enjoy!
Darcy Lewis was hungry.
Galas thrown by Stark, as the Avengers gala had been "for tax reasons," had no shortage of food. In fact, once people successful made it through the spectacle that was the red carpet to get inside, they were greeted with freely flowing food and booze in the form of passed finger foods and champagne.
After sufficient mingling and getting tipsy time had gone by, guests were moved into a ballroom where they were given more food and the run of an open bar. If there were speeches to be made, Tony insisted they happen no earlier than the second course.
Of course, Darcy hadn't made it to that point. She hadn't made it to the first course or even to her seat, though she had noticed that her assigned table had been switched by someone. Instead, she'd mingled, grabbed a couple hors d'oeuvres and then had to cram them into her mouth unceremoniously as she began putting out fires.
Non-literal fires. That was about all the situation had going for it.
First there were medics who had to be rallied to deal with the injured party. Then there the rest of the wait staff and their supervisor had to be assured that it was an isolated incident so that they'd continue to work. And then there'd been reporters to charm and bribe for their photos and footage. That one had probably been a losing battle, but a lady had to try.
And her ladies had helped. Still, the story was going to break, so Darcy had grumbled under her breath about missing the party she hadn't even really wanted to go to as she rode the elevator up to her office.
"Arrows should never be used to shoot the 'last' crab cake from across the room by way of 'calling dibs.' Never," Darcy typed into the text she saved on her computer to reuse for her team meetings before events. After careful consideration, she added, "nor knives or any other weapon. If you are a trained spysassin, or have enhanced strength, your body counts as a weapon."
Mumbling under her breath about how she'd "thought that was a given and were they raised by wolves?" Darcy saved that document and opened up her drive once more. She scanned through the files, trying to decide which forms she needed to fill out in triplicate- a copy for her, one for Steve, and one for Maria Hill.
She made her selection, and started typing. A rap on her door had her pausing in her next step just as she sent the papers to print- Steve and Maria both liked hard copies, and she had a ritual burning to do with her staff on Monday. (Doing so gets rid of the bad joo joo.) Holding up a finger, she didn't even look to see who it was.
Instead, she took just a little bit of joy out of opening up a new message to Barton and attaching a file to a firmly worded email. She cackled with delight as she hit send. When she looked up, Steve was leaning against the doorframe watching her with a look in his eyes she just couldn't identify.
"I came to make sure you weren't working too hard, and I find you're goofing around? This is your event, Miss Lewis," Steve said.
She was about 60% sure he was joking. It was enough to have her joking back, but it also left a heavy tone of uncertainty in her voice as she did.
"Oh, I was working," Darcy stammered. "I was just anticipating reading Clint's paperwork justifying the use of deadly force on a crab cake that should come in tomorrow."
Steve's eyes twinkled with laughter as he nodded solemnly, "after all, the crab was already dead. Defiling a corpse is technically illegal."
Darcy's eyes widened momentarily before she recognized his levity. Still she sighed as she turned in her seat to look up at Steve more comfortably. "Seriously though," she said after clearing her throat a moment of silence later. "This is two of his messes I've had to clean up today, and I have to take my revenge somehow."
Steve nodded in understanding before asking, "so, are you ready to get back out there?"
Darcy blew out a breath and told him, "I have to write a press release now that somehow makes it seem perfectly normal that a waiter was injured at an Avengers party because he passed out when an arrow struck the tray he was carrying and literally scared the piss out of him."
"Oh," Steve's confident bravado crumbled a little. "Well, you look beautiful."
"Uh, thanks," Darcy flushed and responded.
"I was looking forward to the evening and seeing you and…" Steve trailed off with his flush putting Darcy's to shame.
They were uncomfortably silent for a moment before Darcy finally said, "well, you saw me. And you've got to get back out there; it's your job. This is my job." She finished by jabbing a finger over her shoulder at the computer monitor. "Wouldn't want my boss to get angry."
Steve blinked at her for a full minute. "I'm not your boss," he finally reassured her.
"Oh, contraire," Darcy retorted. "I work for the Avengers, and you're their leader."
Steve was rubbing the back of his neck as he argued, "just in the field. I'm pretty sure when it comes to your work, you're the boss and I have to listen to your orders."
A chill went up Darcy's spine at the words, but she kept her mouth shut. A couple times she opened it, but couldn't come up with a way to respond. Finally she turned back to her computer.
"Haven't you been working since two this morning?" Steve asked a few minutes later.
Darcy startled because she assumed he'd made his way back to the party. Distractedly she told him, "yep!"
"If you're up here, what are you going to eat?"
"Is this you wondering or the Avengers?"
"I.. Uh… I don't… Either? Both? I just want to make sure you're okay."
"I promise to eat something before I crash," Darcy told him, holding up the Girl Scout promise hand sign she learned as a child, even though she was pretty sure he wouldn't know what that was. She stood and started ushering him back toward the elevator as she continued. "But I can't promise to go back to the party at this point. When I kicked off my shoes, that was pretty much guaranteed not to happen. Don't worry about me! You just go back to the party you were looking forward to so much. I'm sure there are plenty of hearts who will be broken if you disappear! Lots of ladies looking for a dance with the closest thing to a real life Prince Charming- only much hotter."
Steve was so confused by what he perceived to be an expertly crafted soft letdown followed by such compliments that he let her get him into the elevator. She gave him a wave and a big smile as the doors shut. In disgust, Steve thunked his head on the wall behind him.
When the doors opened once more, Natasha was standing there with a look of pity on her face.
"Went that well, huh?" She asked.
"Am I Darcy's boss? Do you think that's why she won't go out with me?" Steve responded with a question of his own.
"Not really, no. And have you ever actually asked her out?" Natasha asked rhetorically. Deciding to take pity on him she shook her head and instructed, "next time you make telling her she's beautiful the first thing you do. Then you say you were looking forward to spending time with her, not just at the party. If she jokes about you being the boss, it's probably insecurity, and you remind her that she reports to the head of the Operations food chain, Maria Hill, and Maria Hill alone. Nothing she says or does to you that is personal can in any way affect her job security- Hill wouldn't stand for that. And instead of what sounds like asking if she's worked enough hours to file a complaint and whether or not she legally needs a break, you just ask her out to dinner. If you absolutely must qualify it, make it about wanting to spend time with her and not about authoritative concern. Acting like her supervisor does you no favors in that regard."
Then Natasha spun on her heel and strode away.
"Wait," Steve called after her. Do you have her office bugged?"
When Steve, as he could have predicted, didn't get a response, he made mental plans to burn everything he was wearing just in case he was bugged. And maybe have JARVIS run a scan on his body to check for implanted devices...