OMG you guys. Over 50 reviews for the last chapter! I had over 30 in the first four hours after posting it. You guys rock! I'm so glad you're enjoying this story so much! Your words give me inspiration! A big thanks also goes out to those who have reviewed as guests, and those that have private messaging turned off, since I couldn't thank you personally. Please continue to review, because it just really gives me warm fuzzies knowing that you're invested enough to take the time to comment.

So…what happens now that Hulk has claimed Darcy as his and Bruce is almost ready to stop holding himself back?

Darcy was expecting to be in a lot of pain when she woke the next morning. She was not disappointed. Even before she opened her eyes, pain registered on every inch of her body. The left arm was the worst. She'd been assured that it wasn't broken, but the sharp, bone-deep pain was just tortuous. If she hadn't managed to break a bone, she just wished it didn't feel like she had. A slight gasp escaped her as she tried to shift positions.

"Darcy?"

Darcy pried her eyes open in surprise. Jane was sitting by her bedside, nibbling in agitation on her bottom lip, brow creased in concern.

"Oh hey, Jane," she greeted. Her voice sounded (and felt) like broken glass. Darcy's good hand flew up to her throat, processing just how much it hurt. Swallowing was even more difficult than the day before.

Jane frowned, and brushed at her eyes. Darcy tried not to stare at that, because there was no way Jane Foster was crying over her. No way.

"Darcy…you…you didn't have to go out to get Pop Tarts. I would have been fine."

Darcy shook her head minutely. "I've seen how you get, Jane, remember? It's my own fault for not keeping an eye on our inventory."

Jane shrugged. "You've had other things on your mind. Other goals. I was irritated at first, with your lack of focus. But then I remembered what I was like when trying to find a way back to Thor. You stuck by me and put up with all of my bitchiness." She looked down at her hands, clenched in her lap. "You scared me. When Jarvis told us that you'd been attacked and hurt, and that you were being brought in to medical…"

Darcy swallowed painfully. "Hey don't worry about me. I have a big, green boyfriend to protect me."

Jane frowned briefly, and then looked up to meet Darcy's eyes. "I didn't like the idea of you pursuing Dr. Banner. I'm still not sure if I do, because of the danger factor. But I can't deny that there is chemistry between you. And while chemistry isn't my forte," she grinned with an old joke, "I'm willing to go on faith that things will work out for the best. Anyhow…I'm sorry for being less than supportive. You were my rock in the year that we were trying to get Thor back. And I haven't really been yours and I'll do better."

Darcy sniffed, and wiped her eyes. "Don't make me cry," she rasped. "It hurts too much."

Jane half laughed, half cried, and carefully hugged her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

A small noise at the door drew their attention. Bruce stood there, eyes still puffy from sleep, pillow creases on his face. His hair was flattened on one side, and a wild bird's nest on the other. He was wearing low slung sweat pants and his usual button up shirt. It was not tucked in and only three misaligned buttons were done, exposing a slice of skin above the waistband of his sweat pants. He was barefoot and stubbled.

Darcy stared, mouth hanging open. Beside her, Jane also stared, mouth open even wider. They had never seen Bruce looking so…well…like he just rolled out of bed. Bruce always looked somewhat rumpled, but put together. Right now he didn't look together at all.

His eyes darted back and forth between the two of them, and then he ran a hand through his hair nervously. "Um…Jarvis notified me that you were awake," he said to Darcy, voice sleep-roughened.

"And you rolled right out of bed, pulled on a shirt and came to see me?" she asked in her damaged voice. She didn't miss his wince and look of sympathy at the sound.

"I…I wanted to make sure someone was with you," he explained, still tugging at his hair. "I didn't want you to be alone, in pain."

Darcy sighed, and tilted her head to one side. "Doc, you just made my morning. And just so you know, I'm totally imagining that it's my bed you just rolled out of."

He flushed only a little, and had to shake his head with a smile. "You bounce back quickly," he offered.

She smiled at him. "Hey, Big Green totally claimed me yesterday. I think that's enough of an excuse for imagining you rolling out of my bed in the morning."

"You need an excuse?" he returned quickly, one corner of his mouth quirking up into a smile.

"No, not really."

Jane stood and excused herself hastily. Bruce only smiled and walked across the room to sit in the chair she had vacated. He pulled over a rolling table that held a cup of water, and two pills.

"Painkillers," he said, with a pointed look.

Darcy winked, because that didn't hurt too much to do. "So…trying to knock me out to take advantage of me, or to keep me quiet, Doc?"

He raised an eyebrow. "How could I possibly take advantage of you when you're the one pursuing me?"

"I'm helpless right now, at your mercy." Darcy tried her hardest to look vulnerable.

Bruce wasn't buying it, and rolled his eyes. "Your taser is in the bag beside you. You are not helpless. Although keeping you quiet…that's an idea worth exploring." He transferred the cup to her waiting hand, and then dropped the painkillers into her free hand.

"That was a zinger, Bruce. I totally didn't expect that from you." She dumped the pills in her mouth and took a grateful swallow of water to wash them down. Swallowing hurt enough to bring tears to her eyes.

"I'm full of surprises," he returned, snagging a tissue and pressing it into her hands. Darcy dabbed at her eyes, and took a deep breath. Wow. Overnight it seemed they had moved steps forward in their…whatever.

"Do you remember?" she asked quietly.

"Bits and pieces," he answered. "I was still me when Barton relayed that you'd hit your panic button. He must have given the address, but I don't remember that part. Everything went green." The corner of his mouth twitched. "I remember the Other Guy pointing at you, claiming you."

Even though it hurt, Darcy did a fist pump. "Ah hah! That's because I'm awesome, Bruce. And you know it!"

Bruce inclined his head. "It seems the Other Guy is convinced. I'm a tougher sell, you know. There's things I have to worry about that he doesn't."

She'd heard this before. "Social acceptability? Bodily harm? I'll be gentle, I promise."

Bruce snorted. "You know I'm worried about you getting hurt because…because of the Other Guy."

Darcy spread her hands. "Uh…hello? I managed this all by myself, Bruce. If it wasn't for the Other Guy, I'd probably be dead right now."

He clenched a hand into a tight fist. "You are probably hurt worse than you should have been because of him."

She frowned. "How, exactly, did you come to that conclusion?"

Bruce shrugged, dragging his unclenched hand through his hair. "If they hadn't been confronted by the Other Guy…"

Darcy smiled tightly. "That's an easy one, Bruce. If they hadn't been confronted by Big Green, then you and I wouldn't be having a chat this morning. I'd be in a body bag."

He winced. "You don't know that for sure."

"Nope. But luckily, my big, green, boyfriend came to my rescue, and I didn't have to stare down the barrel of a gun. Again." She batted her eyelashes at him.

The mood, which had been sliding away from the easy flirtation they had begun with, swung right back, to her relief. Bruce was trying very hard to suppress a smile. "Your big, green, boyfriend?" he asked.

Darcy rolled her eyes. "Well duh, Bruce. He claimed me, remember? We're involved. I have to update my Facebook status!"

He shook his head. "How will you explain that you're dating the Hulk? Well actually, I'm betting S.H.I.E.L.D wouldn't even let you." His forehead wrinkled. "You can't tell anyone outside of those who already know." The ghost of a smile surfaced again. "That must be very frustrating for you."

"Another zinger. You're in rare form this morning, Bruce."

"I've spent too much time around Tony, I think," he admitted. "It's having a negative effect on my personality."

"Yeah it must suck. Having those few moments away from the relentless despair and self-loathing. Having normal conversations with people without visibly being worried about breaking them. That all must suck big time for you."

He glanced down at the floor for a minute. "Being around people who know about my…problem…and choose to stay around me, not flinch away or shoot at me…it's something new. I'm still adjusting."

"I get that, Bruce. Just don't close yourself off from others, okay? You don't get to make the hard choices for us. That's on us."

He looked up at her, eyes conveying a jumble of feelings that Darcy couldn't sort out. "But what if…what if someone gets hurt?"

"Then we get hurt," Darcy said decisively. "None of us are really bubble type people, trying to avoid all dangers."

"You and Jane and Pepper, you're more breakable than the others though."

Darcy frowned at him. "Sexist, much?"

"No. You'll notice I didn't include Natasha in that list. I just call them as I see them."

She snorted. "Just because I don't wear a skintight catsuit doesn't mean I can't kick ass. I have a taser, you know."

"It wasn't really a help against those guns though, was it?"

Darcy shook her head. "You've definitely been around Tony too much. That had snark to it."

Bruce's mouth twitched in a suppressed grin. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately, but Darcy preferred it over the angst-ridden expressions. "Well, it's hard not to snark when you spend time with Tony Stark."

She giggled. "And you're poetic, too." She batted her eyelashes at him. "Face it, Bruce. Between me and Big Green, we'll wear you down."

He didn't say anything, just fought that grin again, hands nervously twisting in the bed sheet.

A tousled blond head peeked in the door. "Darcy!"

She looked up, smiling at Thor. "Hey your hunkiness. You didn't have to come check on me. Jane already did."

Thor's expression was quite serious. "It is a duty, and one I partake of gladly, to ensure the well being of comrades or those under my protection." He frowned. "You should not have come to harm, not while under my protection and the protection of Dr. Banner's other self."

Bruce flinched, and Darcy looked at him questioningly. "Sorry Thor," Bruce apologized, staring down at the floor. "Tony told me that you got in my way yesterday, when I heard about Darcy." He turned then to look up at the Asgardian. "Sorry about that."

Thor heaved a huge sigh, and waved a dismissing hand. "It is of no matter, Banner. I am not used to being so humbled. It does not sit well, but I am adapting."

Darcy had to laugh softly. She just had to. "It's one of those important life lessons we talked about, Thor. Realizing that there is someone stronger than you. It forces you to use your mind and think."

He scratched his head. "Thinking through a problem was never really my strong point. That was always Loki's-"

Seeing the pained look that crossed his face, Darcy really wanted to hug him. Thor didn't talk about it too much, but the betrayal of his brother had left deep wounds. He had thought Loki dead, after the rainbow bridge thing had been destroyed, but instead, Loki had fallen into nefarious hands. He emerged on Earth at the head of the alien army, and sociopathic, where before he had only been troublesome.

"Well you don't have him to think for you anymore," she said softly. "So you have to get used to doing it." Then she smiled. "Start thinking of how to make Big Green like you."

Bruce groaned and hid his face in his hands. "Honestly Thor, I have nothing against you. Or Steve. The Other Guy just seems to like to hit both of you."

"That's because they can take it," Darcy said wisely. The painkillers were kicking in, thankfully. "I'm getting sleepy, Thor. Make sure Bruce doesn't take advantage of me while I'm out, huh?"

"Darcy!" Bruce's yelp was pitched high, and the expression on his face was priceless. She wished she would have had a camera to capture it. When he raised his hands and backed away, chased by Thor's dark glower, she had to laugh.

"Oh Bruce…your face! Thor…I was joking!" she assured quickly, as the Asgardian's right hand began to rise. "Don't call Meow Meow so you can Whackamole Big Green."

Thor tilted his head with a perplexed look, and Bruce shook his head. "Darcy, I have no idea what you have just said," the god admitted. "Banner?"

Bruce shrugged. "You're not supposed to call…someone? And you're not supposed to hit the Other Guy."

Darcy made a brief hammering motion with her closed fist. "Meow Meow, Thor. Don't put the hammer down on Big Green."

Bruce nodded wisely at Thor. "Strong painkillers can scramble the brain," he explained. "Although with Darcy, it's hard to tell."

Thor's loud laughter was insulting. "Hey…" she protested. "That's not fair."

"Fair?" The blond prince walked into the room, and crossed his arms over his chest, raising one eyebrow. "You call the mighty Mjolnir 'Meow Meow" and you expect us to be fair?"

Darcy pouted at him, trying to really pour it on, but she was getting hazy with the painkillers, and couldn't give him the full effect. "Bruce? Help me out?"

The scientist bit back a grin. "You're on your own with this, Darcy. While I do think Thor has an unnatural attachment to his hammer, it's still not nice to call it by silly names."

"Unnatural attachment?" the god sputtered. "What are you suggesting, Banner?"

Darcy laughed at both of them. "I need to take a nap. You guys get out of here. Unless Bruce wants to stay to take advantage of me."

"Darcy!" he protested again. "You can't say things like that."

She yawned, eyes growing heavy. "I can say anything I want to, I'm an invalid."

She was vaguely aware of Bruce and Thor sharing wise looks as her eyes slowly closed. "Ah," she heard Bruce say. "She's that kind. I'll keep that in mind for the future."

Awe, her fuzzy brain thought. Bruce sees us in the future.

"Now Banner, know that I do not trust you with Darcy while she sleeps," she heard Thor say as she finally drifted off. Hahahahahahaha…

Darcy was kept in medical recovery for two more days, while the worst of the pain passed. She was bruised from head to toe and looked like someone had tie-dyed her skin. She couldn't move without hissing in pain, and the left arm felt like it had been steam-rolled.

After her painkiller-induced fun, Thor refused to allow Bruce to stay in the room while she slept. Poor Bruce took it in somewhat good humor, with a little smile whenever Thor would take up his 'virtue-guarding' stance, as Darcy called it. The Asgardian would stand five paces from her bed, arms crossed over his chest, with a grim expression on his face.

On her last night in medical recovery, the painkillers were not succeeding in putting her to sleep. Darcy finally opened her eyes, and sighed. Her virtue guard was still in position, and he turned to look at her.

"Unable to sleep?"

"Yeah," she admitted. "It's just not happening right now. You know, you really don't have to stand there and guard me, Thor. I was joking. Bruce would never take advantage of me while I was sleeping."

"I know this," her guard replied, with a slight smile. "But it makes Dr. Banner smile whenever I do it, and I will try anything to gain an advantage with his inner beast."

Darcy was surprised into laughter. "You're making this big show of guarding me against the lecherous Dr. Banner just to make him smile?" She shook her head. "Now I think that you are spending too much time around Tony, Thor. That's just devious."

His smile was a little sad. "I did not spend centuries with my brother without learning how to manipulate events to my best advantage."

When the medical team released her the next morning, Darcy was able to climb out of bed, dress in normal clothes in her tiny little bathroom (clothes brought by Jane, thank you), and shuffle back to her bed to rest. Everything hurt, and she wasn't sure if she was ready for the hike down the corridor to the elevator, and then to her apartment.

When Tony and Bruce arrived in her room with a wheelchair, Darcy promised eternal gratitude to both men. They were nice enough to help her into the wheelchair, and wheel her back to her apartment, several floors up.

"You'll start feeling less pain each day now," Bruce assured her.

That was good news. "But what am I supposed to do now?" Darcy asked, pouting up at both men. "Someone should stay with me, to make sure I can move when I need to."

Bruce didn't even blink. "We thought of that, so Natasha volunteered to keep an eye on you. Jarvis will notify her if you need assistance."

Darcy clapped a hand to her heart. "Bruce – you wound me. This would have been the perfect opportunity to be alone without the guardian of my virtue glaring at you."

Bruce's mouth twitched, and Tony just threw his head back and laughed. "Sorry, Darcy," the billionaire apologized. "Bruce has deep moral hang-ups about tumbling into bed with an invalid."

It took another two days for Darcy to feel remotely human and be cleared to go back to work. She didn't lack for company in that time. Even though Natasha was her 'guardian', she saw Jane, Thor, Tony and Bruce on a regular basis. Natasha came in only twice. Once when Jarvis notified her that Ms. Lewis was stuck in the middle of her bed, unable to roll either way or sit up (and wasn't that just humiliating when the S.H.I.E.L.D agent finally came to her rescue), and once again after Darcy shared a dinner with Bruce.

She hadn't been expecting Bruce to knock on her door, takeout bags in hand, as the day was just turning to night. She'd propped her door open, not wanting to feel closed off from everyone else. When the soft knock sounded, and she called for whoever it was to come in, there was Bruce, food bags in hand, looking adorably uncertain yet again.

"Have an appetite?" he asked softly.

She couldn't help it. She'd been behaving all day. Darcy ran her tongue over her upper lip and peered at him over the top of her glasses. "For you, Bruce? Always."

He flushed bright red and blinked at her, and then smiled and shook his head. "I set that one up for you quite nicely, didn't I?"

"It was perfect," Darcy agreed with a wink. "Sure Bruce, I can eat. Get you a drink?"

He shrugged. "Sure. Water would be fine."

Darcy rose from the sofa, painfully, and made her way across to the kitchenette, where Bruce joined her. She snagged plates from the cabinet and handed them off the Bruce, and then grabbed two bottles of water from the refrigerator. After he had spread their food out on the plates, they walked back over to the sofa and settled in. Darcy marveled that once again, Bruce had ordered her favorites for her.

They ate in companionable silence, with only the TV for sound. Darcy hadn't really been watching it. She'd been daydreaming. Actually, she'd probably been about five minutes away from touching herself, since her thoughts had been exclusively of Bruce. She couldn't get the picture out of her head of him all sleep tousled, with thrown-on clothing. She'd seen him naked, so she wasn't sure what the appeal was of the slice of skin she'd seen. But it had been very appealing, and she had been imagining her hands on that skin, right above the waistband of his sweatpants ever since.

Food was a slight distraction from those thoughts, but Bruce's proximity, sitting on the sofa cushion beside her, was going to drive her nuts. It was his warmth, and his scent, she decided. The man was like a furnace, practically radiating heat, and he had his own unique scent. She could smell the barest whiff of some type of cologne, but there was also the lab scent, a tangy combination that she'd become quite familiar with in her time with Jane. And finally, there was a scent that was all Bruce's, and smelled something like Big Green. It all blended together to create a pleasing scent that was complimented by his radiating warmth.

Darcy didn't realize she was leaning toward that warmth until their shoulders brushed together. She didn't react, as if she didn't notice, but Bruce froze for a moment. She was sure he would move further away, but he didn't, and instead angled his knees toward her a little, so that they were lightly brushing her right leg.

Darcy was almost scared to breathe. She wondered if he was reacting consciously, or if his subconscious was now guiding him.

Then he took a long drink from his water bottle, and she just stared at the movement of his neck as he swallowed. She wanted, desperately, to put her mouth on his throat. To feel the warmth of his skin and the muscles of his neck move as he swallowed again.

Oh no. She was ovulating.

Darcy could always tell when she was ovulating, because her body went absolutely nuts with the desire to mate. She had heightened awareness of the men around her, almost constant low-level arousal, and was more likely to flirt madly. It didn't always strike hard, but this one was going to be a doozy, she could tell.

She drained her own water bottle in one long pull, and thought that the safest course of action was to put some distance between herself and poor Bruce. She tried to rise too quickly, and pain flashed through her whole body to remind her that she was not in her usual shape. A hiss escaped her before she could stop it, and Bruce turned to her in concern.

"You okay?" he asked, setting his own bottle back down on the coffee table.

"Just tried to move too quick," Darcy told him. She was not looking at his forearms, displayed by his rolled up sleeves. She really wasn't.

"What do you need?" He was close, leaning in toward her in concern, having no clue of the wicked thoughts flashing through her mind.

"I need to get up," Darcy almost squeaked. "I just…I need more water, and it's better if I don't stay in one position too long, so I need to get up."

Bruce placed his plate down on the coffee table and rose. He turned to face her and reached out to take her by the arms. "I'll help," he assured.

Darcy tried to rise, but there was a very sore spot on her left thigh that was giving her problems, and she was struggling. Bruce applied steady force on her arms, and pulled her up the rest of the way. Darcy found herself suddenly upright, standing bare inches away from Bruce. He bent his head to peer at her face, concerned by her silence, just as Darcy tilted hers up to thank him. They both froze, lips close enough to touch, and Darcy wanted to make that move, but didn't. She could feel his breath puffing softly against her mouth and found that her hands had come to rest on his chest when he pulled her up.

It was so sweetly painful.

Under her palms, Bruce's heartbeat increased, along with the warmth radiating from him. Darcy could not move, for fear of unleashing her inner need, but her hands did curl slightly, bunching Bruce's shirt. She didn't know if the small sigh came from her mouth or his, but it was Bruce who leaned forward the half inch required to bring their mouths together.

For one awful, terrifying moment, he froze. Darcy wanted to cry in that moment, because she knew that he was thinking of all the reasons why it was really stupid of him to be kissing her. Her hands gripped his shirt tighter against the inevitable withdraw, but instead, Bruce only made a small noise and seized her bottom lip between his, pulling gently. His mouth began to move on hers, pressing small kisses to her plump lips, nipping with his teeth and soothing with his tongue.

Darcy, stuck in a moment, suddenly blinked and realized that Bruce was kissing her, and she wasn't kissing him back! She corrected that problem immediately, lips firming against his, opening to draw him deeper. It was tentative at first on both parts, but as their tongues tangled and their breath mingled, it moved into comfort, and then boldness.

He tasted like that elusive food she sometimes craved, without ever knowing what it was. The craving that sent her out on a grocery store run on a day she'd rather stay in sweats, yet when she got home, nothing of what she bought tasted like what she wanted. The craving that meant no matter what she ate, nothing satisfied. There would still be a growling emptiness in her stomach because it only wanted this unknown food.

Bruce satisfied that craving.

Darcy gasped for breath against his mouth, hands fisting even tighter into his shirt, pulling him closer. One of Bruce's hands uncurled from her upper arm and slid up to cup her cheek, angling her head so he could delve deeper into her mouth. Darcy's eyes, squeezed shut in pleasure, opened just the slightest, to peek at Bruce. His eyes were shut tightly, though she couldn't tell if that was in fear or pleasure.

Darcy couldn't get enough. She'd felt cheated all her life in her interaction with the opposite gender. From the boys she'd let grope her in high school, to the self obsessed jerks she'd dated in college, they'd all fallen short. Not a single one of them had managed to fill up that empty, craving space inside of her. Not even when she'd had a mild panic attack at thinking she might be a frigid bitch, and gone on a mad dating spree for three months. Fifty guys in 92 days. Most hadn't made it beyond heavy petting because they did nothing for her. They aroused neither her body nor her mind. At the end of that mad binge, Darcy had sworn off dating for awhile, hoping against hope that it was just some weird stage in her life and it would pass.

Now though, she realized what had been missing. Maturity. They were boys, every single last one of them, focused mostly on themselves without a thought for the world beyond them. Meeting someone the polar opposite, who was so intensely focused on others rather than himself, had opened her up to new possibilities.

Bruce conveyed that maturity and levels of deep emotional pain in his touch, which was tentative and reverent at the same time. His thumb softly stroked her cheek while his mouth continued to consume her. She tasted desperation, and a terrible, abiding sadness that brought the sting of unshed tears to her again closed eyes.

A noise at the door pulled Bruce's mouth away from hers. Darcy opened her eyes and saw an open-mouthed Steve Rogers over Bruce's shoulder, frozen in place, hand raised to knock against the door frame. He swallowed hard, and withdrew out of sight.

She lifted her eyes to meet Bruce's. He appeared shell shocked, mouth open, panting for breath. His thumb was still stroking over her cheek as his eyes flicked over her face as if memorizing her. His eyes were slightly glazed.

She wanted to cry when he pulled away from her, blinking. Now he would flee, she knew.

"I…I need to leave," he told her breathlessly, walking backward toward the door, away from her. "Keep the food."

Darcy couldn't even formulate a response, still tongue tied from the mind-numbing kissing of moments before. She reached a hand out, but Bruce was already turning, walking through the door. That empty place inside her cried out for him, but he was gone.

She sat back down on the sofa numbly, wishing desperately that he hadn't fled. She didn't know where she stood with him now, if that blissful kissing had undone weeks of work getting him to relax around her, or if it had merely scared him. The food that had tasted so wonderful while eating sat like a leaden weight in her stomach.

Darcy exhaled, shrinking into herself a little. Her mind was still fuzzy, not able to think far beyond that incredible kissing. She wanted more. She had suspected that before, but after having sampled the edges of what could be, she wanted the whole thing. And Bruce was running from her.

She managed to stand up again, gathering up the food and taking it to the kitchenette. After it was wrapped and put away, and she'd downed another bottle of water, Darcy headed to the door. Now she felt like being closed off. So she kicked aside the small doorstop, and turned to go back to the sofa.

A whisper of noise told her that someone had slipped inside before the door closed. Darcy drew into herself even further. "Not in the mood for company anymore," she warned, walking slowly, painfully, toward the sofa.

"I would not consider myself company."

Natasha's clipped tone brought Darcy to a halt. She reluctantly turned back to face the assassin. "Oh? What do you consider yourself then?"

Natasha shrugged with one shoulder, expressionless as always. "A friend, perhaps. Do not give up, just because of this minor setback. Bruce has held himself apart from others for a long time. It is terrifying for him to let people close. He needs some time to process."

Darcy sighed deeply. "Some part of me knows that, but most of me just feels rejected."

"That is a natural way to feel. Also choose to remember that he came to you. He kissed you." The tiniest twitch of her mouth looked to be Natasha's idea of a smile. "He will return to you. I have no doubts on this."

It made Darcy wonder if Natasha had been physically watching them, or viewing a Jarvis feed (despite her orders that there would be no cameras active in her room). Judging by how quickly she'd appeared, Darcy was betting that Natasha had been watching from somewhere close.

"What do I do now?" she whispered.

"Continue as you had been before," the S.H.I.E.L.D agent advised. "Bring him food tomorrow. This will let him know that you do not intend to allow him to push you away. Wait for him to seek you out again."

"I hate waiting."

The assassin cocked her head. "The best things in life are those worth waiting for." The ghost of a smile crossed her face. "If you don't believe me, ask Clint." She withdrew to the door, and opened it to slip out. "Have faith, Darcy."

As she curled up on the sofa again, lips still tingling, Darcy knew Natasha was right. It didn't mean she had to like the waiting part though.