Clint woke up to the sound of a blow dryer. He rubbed his eyes and looked around the room he was in. He was lying on a surprising comfy couch. There were posters on the wall of Van Gogh's "Starry Night" and for something called Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog. A coffee table, now covered in shopping bags, was in front of him, and behind that was a small, galley style kitchen with a bar separating the two rooms. To his right was a bedroom. Instead of a wall, it had open bookshelves separating the two rooms. They were filled – mostly with books, but there were some photos and knick knacks as well. To his left was another door – closed – but he went with door number one and walked into what, he decided, must be Darcy's bedroom.

The bed was unmade. Pillows and clothes and shoes were scattered everywhere. It made Clint smile – the chaos matched Darcy's personality. He followed the sound of the blow dryer into her bathroom.

Darcy was bent over at the waist, blow drying her riotous curls. Clint leaned against the door frame and watched as she ran her fingers through her hair, trying to comb out any tangles. As she flipped her hair back up, he caught her eye in the mirror.

She turned it off. As he watched, she started to put on her eyeliner. Clint noticed that Darcy had changed since he last remembered. She was wearing a flowy shirt that hid her bump and sinfully tight black jeans. "Going somewhere?"

Darcy didn't even turn around to answer him. "I have plans."

"But I just got back, and we obviously need to talk." Clint internally cringed when he heard the bit of whine in his voice.

Darcy raised one eyebrow at him in the mirror. "Now you want to talk to me?" She applied her lipstick – a dark purple color that starkly contrasted with her pale face. Clint watched, entranced, as she swiped the dark color across those lush lips.

She whirled around. "After four months of radio silence – after four months of me trying to call you or email you or get a damn smoke signal – now you want to fucking talk?"

Clint watched as a single tear rolled down her cheek, smudging her eyeliner. His shoulders slumped, "Look, Darcy, I'm sorry. I got reassigned to a top secret project that morning. They wouldn't let me have any outside contact. And then…" he took a shuddering breath.

"…and then Loki took over your brain, and then shit hit the fan. I know." Darcy gave him a sad smile. "I even know all about Project PEGASUS."

"How do you know about that?"

Darcy shrugged. "I'm Coulson's assistant now, among other things. I have a pretty high security clearance."

She tried to brush past him, but Clint caught her arm. "Darcy, please." He said, softly. "Talk to me."

She lifted his hand from her arm, and he let it drop to his side. "I'm late, and Bobby gets annoyed when people are late. Logan, not so much, but Bobby, definitely," she added offhandedly, sitting on her bed to pull on high-heeled boots.

A shot of jealousy sucker-punched Clint in the gut. He had been pining over this girl for the last four months and here she was, going out to meet other men. "Who are Bobby and Logan? And where are you going?"

Darcy stood and grabbed a leather jacket off her bed. As she slid it on, she said, "I'm sorry, but you lost any and all rights you had to play the possessive lover when you knocked me up and didn't call me. So if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go enjoy one of my last nights out with my friends." With that parting shot, she left.

Clint wandered around the Tower for an hour while he tried to figure out what to do to make amends with Darcy. He was somewhere on the floor with Dr. Foster's lab when, suddenly, Natasha appeared.

"Nat, when did you get back?"

She stared at him, expressionless. "About an hour ago. You?"

"This afternoon."

They had a silent Mexican standoff in the hallway, Clint wanting to ask her about Darcy and Natasha patiently waiting for him to do so. Finally, Clint gave in. "Do you know where Darcy went?"

Natasha raised one eyebrow. Clint knew, in Nat-speak, that gesture meant Dear Lord, you are being an idiot. "I saw her as I came in. She said something about meeting Logan and Bobby for drinks and invited me to join them."

Clint all but growled at those names again. "Who the hell are Bobby and Logan?"

Natasha just stared at him, a smile quirking her lips at his apparent jealousy. She took pity on the poor man. "Let me change and I will take you with me to meet them."

Darcy sat in a booth, nursing a glass of water (with extra lime, so it looks like it might be alcoholic). She, Bobby Drake, Logan, and Logan's friend called Jubilee are listening to a 80's cover band who was surprisingly good, and Darcy really just wanted to get up and dance, but she can't.

She leans over to Bobby, who has just done his fourth Irish car bomb and is feeling pretty good. "Hey Bobby!" she yells in his ear.

"Hey Darcy!" he yells back, leaning into her.

"Wanna go dance with me?"

Bobby smiles drunkenly at her as he leans his head on her shoulder. God, but Darcy misses the days when that would be her, leaning drunkenly on her friends. "Mm-kay," he slurs.

Darcy stands up, takes his hand, and drags him out of the booth. She catches Logan's eye and points to the dance floor. He nods, and Darcy starts to lead Bobby out when a glimpse of red catches her eye.

Not any red, but Black Widow red. Darcy jumps and waves to Natasha, trying to show the woman where the group is sitting, but she notices the man walking in behind her.

It's Clint.

Fuck.

Clint watched as Darcy led some drunken frat boy out on the dance floor. He wants to follow them, to come up behind them and rip that guy's hand from hers, but Nat holds him back. She stops at the bar, gets them both drinks, then leads him over to a table where a stocky guy with muttonchops and a young girl sit, listening to the band.

The man stands up to hug her. He can hear Natasha murmur, "Hello, little uncle."

"Hello, princess." The man says back. Natasha introduces the two men, and Clint plays nice and shakes the other man's hand. If this is Logan, the frat boy must be Bobby. The girl is introduced as Jubilee, and the four settle down to listen to the band.

Clint watches as Darcy dances with abandon. She shakes her hips and fluffs her hair and points her fingers at the ceiling. Frat boy – Bobby – spins her and a smile crosses her face. Clint realizes that that is the first moment he had seen Darcy truly happy since he had returned.

Guilt began to gnaw at him, so he took a long swallow of beer.

The band finished the song, and announced that they were taking a short break. Darcy and Bobby weaved their way back to the table.

Clint scooted over, trying to make room for Darcy. Instead, Bobby sprawled next to him, and Darcy pulled up a chair and sat at the end of the table. She fanned herself, saying "Shit, that was some exercise!"

Bobby drunkenly leaned over to her and put his hand on the back of her neck. "Lemme help." He slurred, and Clint watch as frost appeared on his hand.

Darcy lifted her hair and murmured her thanks. Clint saw red.

The next thing Darcy knew, Clint was jerking Bobby away from her – which sucked, because she was melting and Bobby's ice trick felt really good. But she could see the anger across Clint's face, and she quickly jumped in and intervened. After all, breaking up fights between superheroes with egos was kind of her day job.

Jerking Clint over Bobby, she said, "Okay, Robin Hood, that's enough. Bobby, Logan, it was good to see you but I think it's past my bedtime. Tasha, I'll see you tomorrow at the Tower. Jubilee, it was nice to meet you." She dragged the archer behind her as she stomped out of the bar.

When they reached outside, a blast of cool air hit them, cooling Darcy's temper. "What the fuck is your problem?" she said, turning to stare at Clint.

He mumbled under his breath, "I didn't like him touching you."

Darcy stared at Clint, trying to understand where this random jealousy was coming from. "I was dripping sweat. Bobby is like an icicle – literally – and was cooling me off. What's the big deal?" As Clint opened and closed his mouth, trying to think of a reason, Darcy waved her hands in the air. "Nevermind. Let's just go back to the Tower and get this conversation over with. My feet fucking hurt and I'm tired of trying to contain people's egos."

She turned and walked away. She could hear Clint jogging to catch up with her, but made no motion to slow down. The Tower wasn't far from the bar, and Darcy needed to walk off her anger.

A breeze came up behind them, and Darcy shivered, realizing she'd left her jacket at the bar. Hopefully Tasha would bring it back with her. She rubbed her arms.

The next thing she knew, Clint was wrapping his leather jacket around her holding her close to him. Darcy wrapped her hands around the edges of the jacket and inhaled. It smelled like him – like fresh cut wood and motorcycle grease and something indefinably masculine and Clint.

Oh no. Darcy would not be seduced by one gentlemanly gesture.

Damn baby hormones.

They rode the elevator up to Darcy's floor in silence. Darcy opened the door, and Clint followed her in. He sat down on the couch, uncomfortable, as Darcy went into her room to change. She sat down on the bed and put her head in her hands and took a few deep breaths, trying to reign in her hormones and emotions.

After a few breaths, Darcy stripped out of her smoky bar clothes. She put on comfy yoga shorts and an oversized t-shirt. She kept on her kickin' tube socks, which were bright blue and pretty much awesome. She took out her contacts and traded them for her glasses.

Taking a deep breath, she returned to her living and sat down on the opposite end of the couch from Clint. "So…"

"So…" he echoed back, obviously uncomfortable.

"Here's what I've decided." Darcy stated, without preamble. "I'm having this baby, I'm keeping it, but I won't force you to be involved. I know from first-hand experience that forcing someone to be a parent is a terrible, terrible idea."

Clint turned to look at her. "What do you mean?"

Darcy sighed and turned to stare out the window. "My parents were only together for the sake of their baby: me. Listening to them fight was…debilitating," she said, finally deciding on the right word. "No matter how this baby came to be, it will be loved and I will never make it feel unwanted."

Clint leaned across the couch and put his hand over Darcy's. "We will love this baby unconditionally." He swore solemnly as his fingers interlaced with hers.

She turned to face him. "Thank you." Admitting her parents' mistakes was not something she told people, but somehow, Darcy felt a connection with Clint. She pulled him to his feet. "Come with me. I want to show you something."

She led him to what was originally a spare bedroom but was now her nursery. It was empty, but Darcy had gotten Steve to start painting a mural on the walls. One wall was the London skyline at night, and Darcy had put small lights in the upper half of the wall to look like stars. Another had a knotty old tree. Around the door frame were rough outlines of Lost Boys. Darcy herself had started lettering above the window – "Second star to the right and straight on 'til morning." Her baby was going to have a Peter Pan-themed room.

Darcy watched as Clint took in the empty room and the paintings on the wall. Steve was ridiculously talented, and the murals were absolutely stunning. A child-like grin spread across his face. "I always wanted to be a Lost Boy," he said.

Darcy smiled as well. "And I always wanted to be Tiger Lily. 'Peter Pan' was one of my favorite books as a child. Movie, too, for that matter."

Clint came and stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and laying his head on her shoulder. "I guess we do have something in common."

Darcy started to resist his hug, but she was too tired and too lonely and simply gave into it instead, leaning back against his chest. They stood there, in the quiet of the night, and looked at their baby's nursery, each silently imagining what he or she would be like.

And then Darcy yawned – loudly. "I guess it's bedtime for me," she said, disentangling herself from Clint's arms.

They walked back into the living room and to her door. Clint stepped out, then turned back around to face her. "Will I see you tomorrow?" he asked solemnly.

Darcy yawned again and thought about her schedule. "I'll be at SHIELD tomorrow until after one. Then I will be in the lab. And oh…shit…the Stark Industries Gala is tomorrow night. Black tie. So it will be schmoozing in a too-tight dress until the wee hours of the morning. At least the day after is Saturday, so I don't have to get up early in the morning."

Clint nodded. "I was informed by Coulson that I have to attend that shindig as well. Do you want to meet for lunch in the SHIELD cafeteria tomorrow? I have my mandatory psych evaluation, so I'll be there for a good chunk of the morning."

Against her better judgment, Darcy nodded. "Sure. 12:30?"

He gave her a quick nod in return. "Okay." They stood in the doorway awkwardly for a moment, each wondering whether or not this was going to work out.

Clint suddenly leaned in and pulled her into a hug. "Goodnight, Darcy," he whispered into her hair. Darcy felt her arms wrap around him involuntarily. "Sweet dreams," he said as he kissed her forehead.

And then, in that moment, the baby kicked for the first time.