Darcy/Rumlow 3
Darcy knew. She absolutely knew that the guy she’d chanced on in a bar one night after work was trouble. She knew that he was keeping secrets, that there was something about him that just wasn’t…
But she couldn’t seem to stay away.
Night after night she returned to his apartment, or let him into hers.
They hardly ever went out, they didn’t really hang out with friends. Darcy was okay with that. All she wanted to do at the end of her very long days was collapse on the couch with the man she was seeing, eat some dinner, and chase away the shadows of the day in each other’s bodies.
One day, she realized that she hadn’t really gone home in about a week, and the next weekend, Brock helped her move the rest of her stuff into his apartment.
Things didn’t stay easy, though. She knew he worked for SHIELD, but not what he did. Chances were pretty good that he was some kind of field op, though, and his missions started keeping him away.
One morning, he came in after having been away for the night. Darcy was at the kitchen table, drinking her coffee. He moved to her and pulled her up against him. He smelled like sweat and guns, the sharp note of adrenaline that usually had him pushing her pants off and burying himself deep inside her.
Not this time, though. This time, his arms wrapped tightly around her back, she could feel the lines of tension in his body as she returned his embrace.
He seemed to hold her forever, his nose buried in her hair. At last, though, he pulled away, one hand coming up to cradle the back of her head. He didn’t speak, but there was a whirlpool of emotions in his eyes- worry, tenderness, regret, sadness. And then he left again.
When Darcy got home from work that night, there was a piece of paper on the table with his spidery scrawl- “Get out. It’s not safe here.”