Chapter 3 is up! It's a bit shorter than expected, but I decided to post what I had and break chapter 4 into two parts, since it'll be longer.
I hate it when characters don't get along, so it's hard for me to write arguments. (Don't get me started on all my feels about Civil War!) Let me know what you think!
A month later, Darcy was glad she had not confided her crush on Barton to anyone. He had turned from rebel-hero-rescuer to rebel-asshole-annoyance. After their second encounter in the kitchen when he talked her down from a panic attack, she thought they were on their way to a beautiful friendship. He was funny, smart and seemed to get along with everyone. Natasha loved him like a brother - well, not really a brother, because they had slept together for a while, but Nat said they ended it because they were almost constantly fighting and they were better off friends. Anyway, for a whole week, Darcy had nurtured a crush on Clint and everything had looked on it's way up.
Then he suddenly turned from sweet-and-funny to sarcastic-and-biting. He seemed to find a way to leave the room when she entered, his remarks to her were curt and just this side of mean and when they did spend any length of time together, she always ended up wanting to punch him in his slightly crooked nose. He was the only blemish on her otherwise spotless existence in Avenger's Tower.
Darcy took to living on the Avenger's floors like a duck to balmy, food filled, lots of super attractive other ducks to look at, water. Once her ribs were healed enough to venture out of her new apartment (and that would never get old - her own apartment on the same floor as an alien God, an assassin and a super soldier), she started kicking ass and making friends, same as always.
Thor and Jane were already her BFFs, and Tony was like a loud, possibly drunk uncle that she loved dearly and who doted on her in return. Getting on Bruce's good side proved no more difficult that learning how he liked his tea and making sure she moderated her voice level a bit. He was also now firmly in the 'beloved uncle' camp.
She had been nervous about Natasha, AKA The Black Widow, AKA she-who-can-kill-you-with-a-look, but meeting her was actually rather anti-climactic. Darcy had been 'recuperating' on the couch with a Firefly marathon when Natasha just appeared beside her on the couch. Darcy managed to contain the swear words in her mouth, but couldn't help the startled jump. Natasha didn't say anything, just relaxed back into the cushions and watched the rest of the episode as if materializing next to people was normal. Which it probably was for her.
When the credits of that episode rolled, Natasha stood up and looked down at Darcy. "Snack?" She asked.
Darcy just nodded mutely, wondering if this was a test, a poisoning perhaps? Did the word 'snack' mean something different in Russian? Still, she paused the show as the next episode started up. Waiting on Black Widow, she pulled her phone out and texted Jane, who was down in the lab.
: I'm watching shows with Black Widow. You know, just in case you never find the body.
: Also, she's fixing me food.
: Also, if I die, you can have my StarkPhone.
Knowing that Jane wouldn't even bother to check her phone if she was engrossed in Science!, Darcy sighed and tucked the phone away. Natasha returned a moment later, bearing two mugs. She handed one to Darcy, who sipped at it to discover it was coffee with a touch of sugar and cream, just the way she liked it. Natasha then pulled out a heap of cookies, wrapped in a paper towel. Laying it out on the couch between them, she regarded Darcy from the rim of her own mug.
"You did well, for a civilian."
"Huh?" Darcy was not sure exactly what they were having a conversation about.
"Kidnapping. Torture. You did well, and are healing well. Let me know if you ever want to talk about it. I have experience on both sides."
Darcy looked down and worried slightly at the tiny hole in her yoga pants, pointedly ignoring the 'both sides' part. "I kinda don't want to talk about it. Ever."
"Understandable," said the tiny assassin. "When you're healed up, you should meet me in the gym. I think you would enjoy learning to fight."
Darcy looked up then, seeing the smile on Natasha's face. Was the Black Widow trying to be her friend? Darcy just nodded, not sure she wanted to learn to fight, but completely unwilling to tell her that.
"Good, start the show. I like this episode."
"Cause you're pretty much River incarnate," mumbled Darcy, brain to mouth filter once again shorting out.
"True, but less crazy. Cookie?"
And that was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Natasha turned out to not be the scary, emotionless spy that everyone made her out to be. She liked pop music and margaritas, enjoyed the adorable cat videos Darcy sent her, and could paint nails like a pro. And sometimes, when the nightmares came back, Darcy could knock on Nat's door and they would watch cheesy rom-coms on Netflix until Darcy fell asleep. Also, Darcy did like learning to fight.
Meeting Steve Rogers, however was not anti-climactic. It was very, very climactic. He had been gone from the Tower for a while, 'finding himself' on the road with a motorcycle or something. It was all very Easy Rider without the drugs and free love -or maybe not, what happens on the road stays on the road- Darcy thought, but kept that to herself.
Darcy was out to lunch with Jane and Thor one day, enjoying the culinary offerings of New York when Dr. Doom decided that Midtown at lunch hour was a great time and place for his new and improved Doom-bots. Thor was ever the protective gentleman and flew Jane and Darcy to a rooftop where they would be safe, but could still watch Thor flex his muscles and smash some bots. It was actually a rather enjoyable few moments. Like dinner theater with more destruction.
It was all going swimmingly, Thor taking out Doom-bots left and right, Iron Man sweeping in to clean up the edges, Jane swooning over her boyfriend's amazing arms. Just as the fight was nearing it's inevitable conclusion however, a second wave of enemies came in from a new direction, right towards Jane and Darcy on the roof. Iron Man came by, blasting a good portion of them into tiny metallic confetti, but not before one of the bots sideswiped Darcy, causing her to tumble off the rooftop.
Falling fifteen stories seemed to take no time at all, and Darcy couldn't even create a coherent thought. Her last words would have been "Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh shit!" had she not been hit mid-air by a blur of denim and brown leather jacket. The wind was knocked out of her, her almost fully healed ribs creaked in protest and she landed with a thump on the sidewalk. Something was digging painfully into the fleshy part of her butt and the back of her head, and a muscley, warm arm was curled underneath her. Her rescuer was lying atop her, shielding her with his body, and Darcy was again in the position of thinking it would be a very romantic rescue if she weren't being suffocated to death by the heavy body on top of her. Seriously, how much could this guy weigh?
She hit the brown leather body with her hand, trying to get him to move. He shifted over her, raising up on his free arm, allowing Darcy to take a gasping breath of air. She stared up into bright blue eyes, side-parted blonde hair and a sheepish smile.
"You alright, miss?" he asked, pulling his body farther from hers as if embarrassed by their close contact.
"Peachy," she groaned in reply, shifting her back, trying to relieve the pain of that something bruising her butt.
With a loud 'thunk', Iron Man landed next to them on the sidewalk. The blonde shifted farther, looking up as Tony pulled back the faceplate to look at the couple entwined on the ground. "Welcome back to the Big Apple, Capsicle. Darcy, meet Steve. Steve, meet Darcy."
"Ma'am," he said politely, as if they were both standing around at a party with champagne in hand, not rolling around on dirty New York sidewalks. He struggled upwards, his arm under her pulling her upright along with him.
As Darcy's rump finally hit cold cement, she realized the sharp edges that had been digging into her were Captain America's shield, which had left a rather sizable dent in the sidewalk where they landed.
Tony extended an armored hand to her, pulling her to her feet. "You okay, kid? You're either the luckiest or unluckiest girl I know. Can't figure out which."
Darcy rubbed a hand across her butt, cursing the inevitable bruises. "Luckiest unlucky girl, definitely."
Steve looked inquiringly at both of them, a raised eyebrow asking for an explanation.
"She's Jane's handler, the one from the warehouse we got to blow up," Tony answered.
"Ah," Steve nodded knowingly. "Clint's..." Steve stopped mid-sentence at Tony's quick head-shake.
Darcy looked from one hero to the other, her eyebrow's raised. "Clint's what?"
"Nothin', short-stack," Tony answered quickly. "Let's get you home and let the medical staff check you out." Darcy could see right through the evasion, but held her tongue for once. Clint was a bit of a sore subject for her right now, and discussing it with Tony and Steve (still a stranger) was just asking for trouble.
Stupid Clint and his stupid attitude. His stupid blue eyes and stupidly perfect arms. And how he made her totally, utterly, unbelievably stupid every time she thought of him.