Darcy/Pietro
Darcy made a face at her phone, not that he would see it. “Why am I always the welcoming committee?” she complained.
It was rhetorical, but Tony answered anyway. “It’s those big…”
“Hey!”
He snickered, continuing like she hadn’t cut him off. “…eyes of yours, you come off very welcoming.”
“Bite me.”
“Love to, honey. Just as soon as you talk to Pepper about arranging a threesome. If you ask me, I think she thinks you’re hot, she’s just worried that you would be a bad influence.” She could practically hear the air quotes in his voice.
Darcy rolled her eyes. “How far out are you?”
“About… Ten minutes?” There was a purposely innocent note to his voice.
“Tony…”
He hung up before she could give him a piece of her mind. And the next time she saw him, there would be new people, and he knew she wasn’t likely to yell at him in front of new people. It might scare them away.
“Fuck. Hey, JARVIS? Did he at least warn you to get some rooms ready?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Well, that’s something.” Darcy sighed. She tossed her phone onto bed and swung her feet over the edge to get up, making sure that she was wearing something at least slightly presentable. It was her “job” to welcome new Avengers people, show them around the tower, answer questions, and generally make them think they’d have a good time while they were there. She’d done it… Twice, before. No, three times. Rhodey totally counted.
She grabbed a sweater before making her way up to the landing pad. The quinjet stirred up a lot of air, it got all chilly and shit. Once outside, she sat down, leaning against the outer wall, and waited.
It wasn’t too long before the quinjet shimmered into view, lowering to the roof below. Darcy pulled her hair back into a makeshift ponytail with her hand, holding it until it stopped being quite so blowy up there. She got to her feet as the ramp at the back opened, making her way over there.
There was a bit of a blur, and it felt like something pushed her enough to set her off balance. She was falling, heading directly for an elbow-meets-cement type of experience, but then the blur again, and she was caught in someone’s arms before she got there.
He was tall, lean, blond, and looking infinitely amused. “So sorry,” he told her in some kind of accent she would place as eastern European. “It is nice to be on the ground again.”
Huh. That was interesting. That was very interesting. Because those words, those exact words, looped around her left ankle. “Well,” she told him, looking up into piercing blue eyes. “Welcome to New York.”