Darcy/Steve 9
Darcy shuffled through the papers on her desk. She had… Six. Six signatures. She needed seven. She knew Steve wasn’t purposely being a pain in the ass, but he’d really taken his new and improved leadership role seriously, and pinning him down to get him to sign the massive quantities of paperwork they went through every fucking day really was a pain in the ass.
Sighing, she pushed her rolling office chair back and got to her feet. The paper was clutched tightly in her hand as she left her office, heading down the hall towards the training center. Because if Steve was going to be anywhere, it would be there. She missed JARVIS. Not that Vision wasn’t awesome, but Vision wasn’t an omnipotent, helpful AI that lived in her ceiling.
Sure enough, Steve was in there going over something with Sam. “Hey, guys,” Darcy greeted as she got close enough to speak to them without yelling. “Can I borrow Steve for a second.”
He looked over at her, and then took a second look, eyes wide. A mute stare of appeal went to Sam, who shrugged and grinned, hands resting on his hips. “Hey, Darcy,” Sam said before wandering off to give them some privacy.
“Darcy…” Steve’s eyes moved over her, from the teeth-edged hood of her shark onesie down to her plush shark slippers. “Is there a reason you’re dressed like that?” His tone said he was asking out of obligation, and he wasn’t really sure he wanted the answer.
“Fury doesn’t care what I wear, as long as I get my work done. And it’s Shark Week!” Steve’s blue eyes had a complete lack of understanding. “Shark Week? You’ve never heard of Shark Week!? Seriously, you’ve been defrosted for a few years now, how is that even possible?”
“What’s Shark Week?” Again, like he wasn’t really sure he wanted the answer.
“Discovery Channel has a whole week that’s devoted to sharks. Although…” She made a face. “Lately it’s been a bit shitty, in the vein of the History Channel with their whole, ‘Let’s make shit up and present it as actual facts.’ But… Sharks!”
“Sharks.” His was face was still a big question mark.
“Okay, sharks have been around for millennia. I know they had sharks back in the forties.” Darcy sighed. “Here. You sign this-” She handed him the piece of paper and a pen from the pocket of her onesie. She waited until he turned and pressed the paper against the wall to sign it, fully taking the opportunity to check out how his ass looked in his sweats, to speak again. “Then when you’re done beating the fuck out of Sam, you’re going to get a pizza- pepperoni and pineapple- and you’re going to come over and we’ll watch Shark Week together.”
He turned back around, eyebrow raised a little as he handed her back both her paper and pen. “Really?”
“Yes. By the way, Nat told me your size. I may have one of these waiting for you.”
The expression on his face was totally worth it as she turned around and left the training center, unable to keep herself from snickering.