All the World's A Stage

Day 15
Supermarket AU- Kick Ass Crossover
Bucky/Clint/Darcy/Steve
Rated M

The Streets of New York City, Present Day

For Darcy, it started as a ruse to hook up with a totally cut guy that worked in the same building she did. It seemed silly now, to think about it, but how was she supposed to know that dressing up as a superhero and going out to defend the streets of New York from criminals and evil-doers would be something that satisfied a deep subconscious longing she didn't even know she'd had, until she’d tried it?

The simple request for ex-military hottie Clint to “show her a few things in self-defense” had ended up with him whipping her ass into shape for three months before she’d finally managed to pin him to the mat, which had led to him “pinning her to the mat”, which had proved even better than she’d been imagining.

It had evolved from there, from wild athletic sex into wild athletic role-playing sex, into actually becoming something they could do to spend time together outside of the bedroom, before they went home for more wild athletic sex. Now, it was to the point that, even though Clint was stuck at home with a broken wrist, (idiot had stepped in front of a mugger with a baseball bat trying to defend her, when she’d already been doing the sensible thing of just dodging the fuck out of the way), she still donned her costume and hit the streets.

She’d had a bit of a time trying to convince him not to come out anyway, managing only by threatening no blowjobs for a month, (a hardship for her, just as much as him, because seriously, if she had it in hand, she just wanted it in her mouth), in addition to promising to bring him home a nice surprise when she was finished. She was glad he’d caved. She wasn’t sure she could have followed through on her threat.

Her mind was drifting a bit, considering all the possibilities for what she could surprise him with, which is why the gang banger managed to get in a punch to her stomach and knock her backwards.

“Asshole,” she snarled as she swung her staff and depressed the hidden button that turned the end of it into a cattle prod. She jabbed it into his hip and watched as he twitched and jerked and hit the urine-scented cement of the alleyway pavement.

She whirled around and waved the long metal rod at the other two members of the NTG, if their tats where anything to go by. “Who’s next?” she snarled, her mask feeling tight across her nose and eyes.

One of them lifted a hand gun, but she stepped in, quickly, remembering Clint’s mantra about guns in close quarters, and slammed her weapon into his outstretched wrist, sending the gun skidding down the alley and under a dumpster.

“Bitch!” the kid snarled and fell back, cradling his bruised, if not broken limb to his chest.

“That all you got? Or did you wanna try again, dickhead?” She said, keeping her eyes on both him and his still standing companion.

“Fuck this shit, man, it ain’t worth it! Bitch be crazy,” the only one not bearing physical evidence of their confrontation said as he turned and ran after slapping the other guy on the shoulder. A few seconds later, the wannabe gunman cursed and took off after him.

Darcy, or Misstress Tisiphone, as she liked to be called when she was in costume, spun and moved quickly, putting zip-ties on the wrist of the one that had managed to land a hit on her. He was coming around and she didn’t want any more problems from him while she notified the authorities and checked on the two kids that she’d found the three gang members bulling/mugging.

“You guys okay?” she asked as she slid her staff into the brace on her back so that her hands were free, and felt the comforting weight of it laying at an angle down her spine. The two teens, a boy and girl, peeked out from behind a pile of stacked trash bags next to the dumpster.

“Are they gone?” One small voice asked, the girl, she thought.

“Yep, it’s safe. I’m going to text someone to come help you, okay?”

She notified her 99 contact, Detective Peralta, that she had a perp in custody as well as a weapon that needed collecting and some kids that might need a ride home. Then, as soon as she heard the approaching sirens, she waved goodbye to the grateful teenagers and slipped off into the night.

She was a few blocks away, with endorphins surging through her veins and making an excellent companion to the satisfaction of having done a good deed and saved some innocent kids, when her left tit started vibrating and playing JD Shelburne’s Farmboy. She smiled at the inside joke (it had been Clint’s ringtone since he’d told her about his childhood in Iowa), and pulled her personal cell out of the secret pocket in her bustier corset top.

“Hey, baby,” she said with a smile as she answered. Her strut down the sidewalk picked up a bit more swagger, (it had already had plenty, 4 inch wedge heeled boots always made her feel more cat-like and graceful), and she felt the first stirrings of lust at the sound of his reply. Ass kicking adrenaline plus his sexy growling voice always got her libido to perk up and get ready to play.

“Are you on your way back, yet? I’m bored and I miss you.”

Mistress Tisiphone let out a sultry chuckle that she knew would crawl right through the phone lines and straight to his dick, “Impatient much?” She loved to tease him so much.

He groaned, which did lovely things in her belly, and started in on his needy, whining bit which was still somehow a turn on for her. “Come on, Darce, you’ve been out there for hours already and I’m stuck here, all by myself, totally alone, and I just can’t stop thinking about what you’re going to bring home for me. You did promise me a treat if I was a good boy, and I’ve been such a good boy. I just want you home now so I can show you how good I’ve been…”

Fuck, that man! she thought as she bit her lip and paused to press her thighs together. He knew all her buttons and just how to push them.

Shaking her head, she responded, making sure to keep her voice light and even. Not letting him know how much he affected her was part of the game, after all. “1-It’s been two hours, Clint. Two only counts as 'hours' by only the most technical of margins. 2- Lucky is there with you and I’m sure you’re hurting his feelings when you forget about him, so you should apologize and give him a treat. 3- I’m not entirely sure that calling me and begging for me to come home and tend to you is being a good boy. And 4- you know you’re supposed to be calling me Mistress right now, which leads be to believe you’re being willfully naughty, Clint. Am I going to have to punish you when I get home, Clint?”

He whimpered just a little bit. “No, Mistress.”

“I hope not,” she purred and started across the street when the WALK sign lit up. “Now, it just so happens that I am just about to stop and pick up your surprise and then I will be headed home, but only because I’ve already managed to have a full night and I know I’m just going to be distracted if I try to stay out any later.”

Clint’s voice was suddenly sober and serious. “What happened? Are you okay?”

She smiled, her insides warmed just as much by his concern as his need. “It was nothing I couldn’t handle, just a couple of 9 Trays. One managed to get a lucky shot, but I’m totally fine. Probably won’t even bruise.”

There was silence for a beat before he spoke again. “But you’re okay?”

“Yep.”

“And you’re on your way home?”

“Just have one, maybe two quick stops to make, then I’ll be there.”

“Okay, then,” he sighed, his worry easing from his tone. “You will hurry, right?”

Mistress Tisiphone laughed again. “Maybe you should try and appreciate the anticipation, huh?”

“But you said you didn’t want me to start without you,” he said and she could hear the smile through his words.

“What a willful little slut you are tonight,” she laughed. “You know it is possible to appreciate things without having to put your hands down your pants.”

“I’m not wearing any pants,” he answered cheekily.

She just shook her head and grinned into the phone. “You’re beyond incorrigible,” she said finally.

“You love it.”

“Mmmmm,” she hummed and licked her lips. “I do.”

“I do, too,” he said, sounding pleased. “See you soon.”

“Bye,” she sighed and disconnected.

“Steve, I’ve lost sight of the targets. Do you copy?”

There was only static on the walkie talkie even after Bucky tried to get through a few more times, which meant Steve was out of range as he chased the thieves. They’d managed to interrupt a burglary in progress at the electronics store just down the street from their apartment. They’d split up, Steve, or the Patriot, in pursuit of the perps while Bucky stayed to secure the scene and call 911. It had only taken a minute or two, then he’d headed to the rooftop with his binoculars to help Steve try to catch their criminals.

Staying in touch over the walkie talkies, he’d helped guide his partner as the thieves fled on foot. They’d slipped into an alley between two tall buildings, however, and now he couldn’t see them or Steve. His anxiety was just starting to rear its ugly head when Bruce Springsteen’s Born in the USA filled the air.

He quickly pulled his cell from his pocket and pulled off his mask as he answered, all in a rush. “Steve, you there? Did you find them?”

“Sort of,” the Patriot announced. “They’ve got themselves locked in an apartment building. The doorman and I have them pinned down. As soon as the cops get here, I’ll hand it over to them, then we should probably head home.”

“You want me to meet up with you?” Bucky asked, his gear stashed in his cargo pants and his feet moving swiftly as he descended the stairs.

“Nah,” Steve said. “I can hear sirens now. It shouldn’t be very long. I’ll probably be done before you could even get across town. Those bastards lead me on a merry fucking chase, that’s for sure.”

“Right, you’ll probably even be able to skip your run in the morning, maybe we can stay in, sleep in late, fool around a bit… been a while since we had morning sex. What do you say?” Bucky was feeling playful and amped up after having stopped the robbery with neither of them even having to fight. They were both well trained and in good shape, to the point of even having been hired by a couple of the local business guys to do some private security, patrols at night, on-call if alarms went off, that kind of thing. It was a nice bonus to their already regular vigilante activities.

Tonight would earn them a nice little cash reward, not that he cared about the money, but he had been wanting to take Steve on vacation somewhere nice, maybe, or get him a nice gift. They’d been working a lot lately. He figured it was time for a break, something to treat themselves.

Steve was silent on the other end and Bucky could practically hear his face getting read under his helmet and mask. He had stepped out onto the street, exiting the building as he got his response.

“That- that sounds good,” Steve admitted after only a small stutter. “Hey, do you think you can do me a favor?”

“Anything, punk. What do you need?” Bucky answered with a grin as Steve tactfully changed the subject. He knew the blond both hated it and loved it when he got a hard on while they were dressed up and working the streets fighting crime. Not that Bucky considered it a challenge or anything. He would never take advantage of Steve’s dirty mind and vigorous libido to get his partner all hot and bothered while they were in public. Of course not. That would be wrong.

“I’ve worked up quite an appetite chasing these guys all the way across Brooklyn. You think you could pick up some take out? And maybe some ice cream?”

“Sure,” Bucky said, feeling the flirty smirk on his face. “You know how I enjoy taking care of you and your- appetites.”

“Christ, Buck, you think you can save it till we get home?” Steve whined, but it was all in good fun.

“Alright, alright. Indian sound good?”

“Perfect. The authorities are here, I gotta go fill them in. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Later, punk.”

“Bye, jerk.”

The Mistress stared in through the frosted glass door of the frozen section and frowned. The row of ice cream was all but empty. Only one tub of mint-chocolate chip remained. She knew Clint liked mint-chocolate chip, but she’d had her heart set on cookie dough. Besides, the green ice cream might stain the sheets…

Clutching the loops of the black plastic bag in her hand tighter she walked to the end of the isle and looked for an employee. Spotting a dour looking red-headed woman in a blue smock that bore the logo of the store across her breasts (nice breasts, fabulous breasts even, she noted), she called out to her. “Hey, do you have any more ice cream? In the back or something?”

The woman looked up briefly and then went back to her magazine, shaking her red curls. “Sorry. The truck’s running late. We won’t have more for a few hours.”

“Shit,” Mistress Tisiphone cursed under her breath. “Well, mint chocolate chip it is.”

When she turned around, though, her eyes fell on a tall dark haired dude dressed in black military cargo pants, a leather vest with more straps then were strictly necessary and black plastic face mask pulling open the door and reaching inside for the last half-gallon tub.

“Stop!” she shrieked and ran forward, her hand grabbing his wrist in a vice grip. He froze, muscles tense, and then turned to look down at her. “That’s mine. I saw it first.”

He scoffed, the sound muffled under the plastic face guard.

“You can’t call dibs on groceries, doll. If it isn’t in your hands, and you haven’t paid for it, it ain’t yours.” He pulled his arm back and ripped it out of her grasp.

When he moved to reach into the freezer again, she acted, mostly without thinking. She spun inside the circle of his arms and knocked his hand off the door handle. Her closeness made him step back defensibly, just as she had hopped and she pressed her back against the door slamming it shut.

“I will fight you for it,” she announced and held up her fists and lowered her stance for better balance.

He stared at her, eyes wide above his mask in surprise and then started laughing. “I don’t think you could take me, tootes, even if you are dressed up like a super-villain.” He crossed his arms over his chest and watched her, though his eyes were turned up as though he might be smiling under there.

“Hero, not villain,” she corrected and scowled at him. “Besides, I have skills. Are you one of those misogynist creeps that thinks just cause I’m a woman I’m weaker than you?”

“Gender’s got nothing to do with it. Size, maybe, but mostly it’s about the fact that I happen to know what I’m doing when it comes to fighting, more than most. It’s a very rare person that has enough skill and training to take me down,” Bucky answered without a trace of humility. Steve probably could, but other than him there were maybe only a handful of people in the world that could do it. He’d spent almost 15 years in the military and had the scars to prove it, but he had more than that, too.

She narrowed her eyes behind her mask and tilted her chin up so that it looked like she was looking down on him, though she was probably a foot shorter.

“You don’t know that. You don’t know me or what I’m capable of.”

“That’s true,” he said as he scanned down her body and really got a good look at her outfit and when it might hide underneath. “Though I think I’d probably enjoy getting to know you better,” he said with a cocky grin she couldn’t see, but might be able to hear. “I do, however, know what I am capable of. The name’s Sargent Sniper. Maybe you’ve heard of me?”

She stood up straight and tilted her head to look him over, really see him for the first time. She had heard of him. Him and his partner. “Where’s your sidekick? The Patriot, right?” They’d both made the news a few times with their good deeds. They weren't quite as big as Kick Ass, but they'd definitely made a name for themselves as the Soldiers of Good Fortune.

The man burst out laughing. “That’s him, though I’d love to see his face when you call him that.”

“So,” she continued, her back still against the cold surface of the glass case, “if you’re really one of the good guys, you don’t mind stepping back and letting little old me get the ice cream, then, right?”

She gave him a smirk and turned to pull the door open. He reached out and pushed it closed again, his hand next to her head and his body crowding into her space, just like she’d done to him. Turnabout was fair play, he figured.

“Hey,” she grunted and turned to look up into his face. Her blue eyes on his were full of fire and her chest was heaving slightly.

“Don’t confuse good guy with nice guy. I can be a very bad boy when I wanna be. Besides, it’s only fair. First come, first serve, and I would’a had it first.”

The Mistress shivered slightly at his words, not just what they were saying, but how they were being said. He was being more than just a little suggestive, and hitting all the right notes to get her blood pumping, just like Clint always did.

She stuck out her lip in a sultry pout and was felt rewarded when his eyes dropped immediately to he mouth. “I would let you have it…” she crooned and arched her body to give him the most advantageous look down her cleavage, (the V of the M on her chest was already fairly revealing, but with him huddled over her like that… he could probably see her belly button from there), and put her weight on one hip, “but you see, I promised my man I would lick ice cream off his rock hard abs, and I always keep my promises.”

His eyes fluttered shut briefly at the image her words conjured, (the feisty dame wasn’t even remotely playing fair), and suppressed a moan. He was still half-hard from his talk with Steve earlier and this wasn’t helping. It had been a while since they’d shared a woman, and he missed tits and pussy, which she seemed to have in spades. The tits at least. He could only imagine what was between her thighs would be just as good. Sweet, and juicy…

“I don’t supposed you’d be open to sharing?” He asked without really thinking. “I’m sure we could come up with a good compromise. Something mutually beneficial for all parties?”

One of her eyebrows shot up faster than a speeding yuppie heading to the Hamptons for the weekend. “Are we still talking about the ice cream? Or…?”

“Yes,” he said simply and saw her lips twitch.

“What about The Patriot? I sort of got the impression you guys were more than just partners.” She asked, her gaze drifting down over his throat and muscled chest.

“I’d never dream of leaving him behind,” the Sargent admitted. “He would have to come, too.”

“And he’d be okay with that?”

Bucky smirked. “More than okay, babe. From what I can tell, you are exactly his type, and he’s got plenty of stamina for everyone.”

Darcy licked her lips and considered the photo of The Patriot her and Clint had both admired in the paper. She knew Clint had dated guys before, he even still worked with one of his exes, Phil, whom both of them were fairly good friends with. They hadn't brought anyone else into the bedroom since they’d started dating, but they had talked about it. In fact, he’s specifically mentioned, when reading the article done on The Patriot and Sargent Sniper, that he wouldn’t mind having one of them join them for sexy times.

But what about both? At the same time?

As if reading her mind, he asked her, “What about your man, sweetheart? Think he’d be up for some two on two?” She had an overwhelming urge to see his mouth, but thought it might be considered rude to ask him to remove his mask before she invited him and his boy toy over for a foursome.

She grinned up at him and licked her lips one more time. “Only one way to find out,” she declared and reached into her top for her cellphone. His eyes followed her movements like he thought she was reaching for a weapon.

She pulled up Clint's contact and hit send, waiting while it rang in her ear. She remembered what he would hear on his end and smiled. She’d programed Venus by Bananarama as her ringtone personally and he’d liked it so much he’d never changed it.

“Please tell me you’re calling to ask me to come get the door because your arms are full of my awesome surprise,” He said as soon as he picked up.

“Nope,” she said with an extra emphasis on the p. “Sorry, I’m just picking up the second part of your surprise. So, I’m close, but not there yet.”

“That’s what she said,” Clint muttered grumpily.

She rolled her eyes and mouthed, “Big Baby,” at Sargent Sniper. He made no move to leave her personal bubble and she shivered at the contrast between his body heat at her front and the cold of the cooler door still against her back.

“On a completely unrelated note,” she affected an innocent, professional tone, “ I have a hypothetical question for you.”

He paused and she could hear his thought process adjusting. “How hypothetical?”

“Totally hypothetical. No reason behind my asking this question at all besides idle curiosity.”

“Darcy…” he growled, his suspicion mostly for show, but she knew she had his attention.

“What? Seriously, I’m just curious about something, no big deal.” She said, making it blatantly obvious that the opposite was true with her voice reaching a higher than normal pitch and her speech pattern accelerating. She knew he watched for that kind of thing. He’d taught her to do the same.

“What’s the question?” he grudgingly asked after another wary pause.

“Well, you remembered how we talked about bringing another guy to share our boudoir?”

The silence that followed was absolutely pregnant with tension.

Finally, “I remember,” came over the line. Clint’s voice sounded a little funny. She let her bright red lips twist up on one side.

“Well, my question is this. What would you think about letting two guys join us?”

Mistress Tisphone squeezed her eyes shut as she waited for his answer.

“Are they both hot?”

“Hypothetically?”

“Yes, hypothetically,” he amended, emphasis on the ‘I know you're full of shit, Darcy.’

She let her eyes roll down over the Sarge’s body, spending an extra second or two on the noticeable ridge in the front of his pants. When she raised her eyes back to his face, she noticed that he’d reached up and removed his mask with his free hand. She felt like the fucking Cheshire cat at that point.

“Oh, yeah. Smoke’n hot.” She felt the inside of her leather pants become uncomfortably slick. She knew she shouldn’t have gone commando tonight. “Hypothetically, of course.”

“Of course,” he mimicked.

It occurred to her that he might say no. That he might turn her down and they’d miss out on this once in a life time opportunity and what was she going to say to Sargent Sniper if he said no? She tried not to let her smile fade, but something must have shown because he was starting to look as if he was suddenly considering the same possibility and was just as disappointed by the prospect as she was.

She needn’t have worried.

“Sure, why the hell not? The more the merrier, I always say,” he laughed, and it was music to her ears. And her vagina.

“When have I ever heard you say that?” she argued momentarily, relief and anticipation twirling around in her brain with irritation that he was being such a little shit about things, especially at a time like this.

“All the time. I guess you just weren’t paying attention.”

“Whatever. I pay attention.”

“You gonna be forever longer, woman, or what?” he inquired, changing the subject.

“Just a few more minutes. I’m on my way, just around the corner.”

“Can’t wait,” he said and she could hear is smile.

When she disconnected she looked back into his gorgeous face, his blue eyes dancing.

“Well, how ‘bout it, soldier? You wanna see if your boyfriend wants to come over and play?”

His smirk was possibly the filthiest thing she’d ever seen in her whole life. It was glorious.

When Steve’s phone rang he was just about to cross the street in front of their apartment building. He recognized the song as Brooklyn Boy by Kevin Devine.

“Bucky?” he asked when he picked up. “Everything okay?”

“Better than okay, punk. I just met this nice lady who invited us to come have our ice cream with her and her man. I figured it’d be rude to say no, but I wanted to make sure you were down first.”

“Well, I mean, I guess, sure. What about dinner?” Steve said, not sure what the hell was going on, but knowing that the tone Bucky was using usually meant trouble. Trouble or fun. A lot of times, both.

“Shit, I forgot to go pick up the take out!” Bucky swore and Steve thought he heard him slap his palm to his forehead. “Sorry, Stevie, I just got so distracted.”

The Patriot knew just how focused a guy Sargent Sniper could be. It was in his title, for god’s sake, and there were very few things that could distract him. If he had to guess, it was probably a sex thing.

He took a second to sort things out in his head. Distracted Bucky=sex thing + nice lady and her boyfriend for ice cream. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to draw the appropriate conclusion.

“What do you think, Stevie? I can text you the address and then I’ll go get the food and meet you there.” His partner’s voice sounded particularly excited. Even if he wasn’t horny as fuck, himself, there wasn’t a whole lot of things Steve would say no to when Bucky was that excited about it.

“You really like this girl, huh?” He didn’t manage to hide his fondness at all.

“Just wait till you meet her, punk, she’s exactly your type. Stacked and sassy, just the way you like ‘em.”

Steve frowned. “She’s not stand’n there listening to you talk about her like that, is she?”

“No way,” the Sargent scoffed. “You know my mama raised me better than that. She went to pay for the ice cream.”

That didn’t make Steve feel much better. “You’re making her pay for the ice cream,” shot across the air waves in his ‘The Patriot disapproves’ voice.

When the brunet man on the other end started laughing he had to admit he was confused.

“Trust me, Stevie, when I say she insisted.”

So apparently, there was a joke there he didn’t get yet, but he couldn’t wait to hear the story.

“So, can I tell her we’re in?”

“Send me the address, you jerk. And don’t forget your manners. Make sure there’s enough food for everyone.”

The voice that answered back was so full of silky smooth sex that Steve felt his it from the base of his neck to the tip of his spine. “I’m making it my personal mission to make sure no one walks away unsatisfied.”

Fuck, Steve thought, that man!

Clint was in the kitchen making sure there were enough beers for four when he heard the key turn in the lock and the door open.

“Honey, I’m home!” Darcy’s voice called. “And I come baring gifts!”

He thought he was prepared for anything.

He was wrong.