She looked completely out of place in her purple skinny jeans and grey chunky knit sweater, dusty brown boots, and the maroon knit hat with it’s cheerful flower to the side. She was comfortable, though, sitting cross legged on one of the uncomfortable chairs, a pile of black and gold yarn half spilling from the bag in front of her on the floor, knitting needles clacking an easy rhythm in her fingers. The lobby was done in blacks and greys and shiny steel, she was the only pop of color in the area.
Sitting in the lobby with her were two men who looked as though the belonged, done up in black canvas and heavy duty buckles and steel toed boots. They had stayed to keep her company, at Steve Roger’s request, while Jane and Thor went to discuss Avenger’s business with others who had the proper clearance. Darcy didn’t have clearance. She refused to sign the paperwork and then posted selfies on facebook and instagram, smirking at the vein that throbbed so obviously in Sitwell’s forehead.
Darcy Lewis liked to stand strong in her beliefs and use her rights to her advantage and troll SHIELD whenever she could get away with it. Jane and Thor seemed to approve of this.
Jack Rollins was a tall man with piercing blue eyes and a scar that traced the right side of his jaw and split into his lip. He was quiet, competent, and part of the STRIKE team Darcy absolutely knew nothing about. Not at all. Brock Rumlow was shorter, darker, and incredibly intense. He looked a person in the eye when they talked to him and had a dangerous edge to his personality that even the most obtuse person could feel. They were not kind men, they were known to be good at their jobs and keep to themselves, they didn’t suffer fools, and were well respected in SHIELD.
For some reason, though, when Darcy Lewis was in the building they ended up on babysitting duty. One or both of them. Usually both of them since the unfortunate lunch disaster in which it was proven that both Jack and Darcy should never be trusted to cook a meal for anyone. There was a reason the woman believed in the power of pop tarts.
Today found Darcy knitting a striped scarf, having decided she didn’t feel like being anywhere in the Triskellion (which required her to sit through three ten minute sessions of do and do not commands and to sign no less than four NDA’s). So she was in the lobby with her voluntary babysitters.
“All I’m saying,” Darcy insisted, looking at them and not her knitting as her needles clacked together, “Is you can’t trust a society that segregates and judges all of their members based upon the beliefs they held onto as tiny, stupid children.”
“It makes sense, they sorted them based on familial predilections. They were being groomed for this certain way of life, continue training them in that via their house and what they will be dealing with at home on breaks. And, in that way of thinking, they are being judged for their families and personal beliefs.” Brock countered, shrugging obviously with a single shoulder as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back, watching her with a vague smirk which was more affectionate than sneering.
“Besides, the kids had some room to argue. Look at Harry, the hat wanted him in Slytherin and he wanted Gryffindor. Look at Sirius Black, someone that sly and sneaky should have been a snake with the rest of his family. Instead he was a Gryffindor. People, even children, can make their own decisions.” Jack agreed, taking the other man’s side as usual.
“Of course you’d support the system, you’re Slytherins. You work the system from birth.” Darcy informed the men as she made a face.
“Says the Hufflepuff with Slytherin leanings.” Brock teased.
“Either way, given the option I wouldn’t let my theoretical wizarding children go to Hogwarts, though. Maybe Beauxbatons, because those uniforms are on point, but I’d probably keep my little heathens in the US.” Darcy decided to ignore their arguments completely, sometimes it was easier that way.
“Home school. For sure.” Jack announced with a nod, his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward and watched the yarn transform into a scarf. He was fascinated by the process for some reason. Every time she pulled out knitting his eyes ended up glued to her hands. It was strangely endearing.
“Heathens? Really?” Brock demanded, a laugh bubbling in his chest and not quite making it out. He wasn’t the type to let go enough to laugh, even when happy.
“I mean, they will be mine,” Darcy grinned over at him like all of this should be obvious. “Besides, they would get totally spoiled by Uncle Thor, and Auntie Jane would teach them science so they would totally be smarter than their teachers.”
“I don’t doubt that in the least, darlin’.” Jack replied, laughing easily as his eyes moved from her hands to her face and then back down.
“Knowing you they’ll call their teachers fascist incompetents whenever they have to do something they don’t want to.” Brock replied, voice dry as he grinned easily. He had a nice grin, kind of bad boy. It worked for Darcy.
“Speaking of incompetent fascists,” Darcy continued, tying off the yarn and holding it up to inspect the new scarf for flaws. “When are you two finally going to ask me out?” She looped the scarf around her neck and looked at the two men, eyebrows raised imperiously.
Jack opened his mouth but nothing came out and a moment later he closed it again, his eyebrows drawing together as he searched her face for an answer to questions she didn’t know. She was half afraid she’d completely misread this situation, but it had been six or so months of this and she was totally down with being the filling in their rather ripped sandwich. Or the topping if one of them wanted to be in the middle. She wasn’t going to be picky.
“Dinner and drinks tomorrow night? Eight?” Brock interjected, usually the one to do the talking.
“Take me home for dessert?” Darcy asked, shoving her knitting needles in her bag and rolling the excess yarn back up.
“Dessert?” Thor asked as he and Jane came back out. Somehow Darcy always managed to time her projects appropriately in these instances. Clint was sure it was a superpower, Tony just offered to make her electrified knitting needles so she could use them as weapons and Natasha offered to teach her how to use them properly. Why Natasha didn’t think knitting was a proper use of knitting needles, Darcy didn’t dwell on.
“I’m using it as a euphemism for sex.” Darcy informed the other man. He looked at the two men with a raised eyebrow and a dead look in his eye which had cowed many. They held their ground, Rumlow offering the Norse God a smarmy smile, and then Darcy wiggled her fingers at them, looped her arm through Jane’s, and led her scientist off as Jane admired the Hufflepuff Scarf and asked Darcy for one in Ravenclaw colors.