Grant had never thought he would ever see the girl from the well - Darcy, his mind supplies needlessly - again.
After a month in a half of many more missions with Rogers, his becoming engaged to Jemma, and a few new injuries, it's still a surprise.
Until she's literally smacking into him while not looking where she's going in her haste. Body bouncing against his chest and nearly landing on her ass before his instincts flare to life and he grabs onto her arms in order to prevent her from falling as she rights herself.
"Jesus Christ, who the fu-" She stops short as she takes a look at him and he sees her go through the familiar signs of recognition. Eyes widening and mouth forming into an 'O'.
Her re-appearance into his life is not as surprising as one may think because through Steve, he'd figured out that Darcy the girl he had saved from the well a month ago is the same Darcy Lewis who'd been getting under his buddy's skin for past few months (not to mention taking up pages of his sketchbooks at a time). The same Darcy that had been rumored to have tasered Thor and also been on the ground in London during the Dark Elves mess.
And yeah, the same Darcy whom Coulson likes to tell tales about. His very own favorite non-SHIELD human.
The same woman living in the same billionaire's gaudy New York tower that houses his best friend who had recently invited him to stay.
The following words are not as expected, though. "Oh, hell no!"
"Nice to see you again." He says dryly as she steps away from him with a quick scowl. "You're looking better."
She does. The flowery, above-the-knee skirt and lavender blouse make her pretty in a light, airy fashion. The exact opposite of the shivering, sludge-covered woman with wet hair hanging all over her hair and dressed in soaked camp clothes.
He recalls Wilson, during a brief respite in Kiev, describing her as 'the very damn definition of bombshell' as Rogers had scowled in the back of their 'jet with a bleeding head wound after having complained about her grabbing 'inappropriate attention' whilst they had all gone to dinner once.
He honestly thinks everyone but, Steve could pick up on the brutish jealousy in his mood.
And now that he knows who she is, he can see why. Curvy, brunette, and different. He's seen the picture of Peggy Carter that Steve still keeps in his compass. Has heard him speak proudly about her qualities... same qualities he sometimes bitched about in the same woman standing in front of him.
Regardless, the bombshell part of her is pretty clear now as she stands straight with her chin pointing at him and in heels that bring her up a step.
"Oh, really?" She scowls even deeper while cocking her hip. "That's rich, coming from the guy who rescued me and then disappeared! Like a phantom got me out of that well!"
He... has no idea what to say to that.
And as it turns out, he doesn't get to because Dr. Foster appears at Darcy's side. "Darcy, I was calling- Oh!" She utters, spotting him a second too late and then adapting a welcoming smile once she recognizes him from earlier in the day during his surprise welcoming committee. "Agent Ward. Getting around okay?"
"Getting better." He says honestly, side-smirking at the tiny brunette still glaring at him.
He likes Jane Foster. She'd greeted him warmly from the croak of Thor's arm early in the cool, blue morning after he and Rogers landed their Quinjet on Stark's personal helipad. The aforementioned billionaire as well as Bruce Banner, Natasha Romanov, and Clint Barton standing out to greet him and their fellow Avenger.
As well an astrophysicist and the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company. To name a few.
Yeah, to say it had been an eventful morning would be a definitive understatement.
And now, as Foster demands an obliviously reluctant Darcy Lewis to accompany him on a tour of the tower and it's floors becauseyou have to be nice to our guest, Darcy, he starts to feel like it's about get a lot more interesting.
And a whole hell lot more amusing, too.
Of course, he'd show up for his stay in Avenger's Tower, on the eve of one of Tony Stark's parties - a semi-casual shindig that incorporates an evolving door of drinks, finger food, and mingling among a small crowd of the Avengers, their personal guests, and a few high-up SI (a few former SHIELD) employees taking turns about the room.
All in all, not that bad.
Even though, despite everything he's seen and done in the past decade couldn't necessarily prepare him for watching the Earth's Mightiest fucking Heroes lounging around in their nicest dinner/cocktail/evening wear while, saluting and tipping probably (most definitely) expensive alcohol in each other's direction.
And also, being Captain America's guest.
Something he hadn't known for sure until a conversation with said friend in which he hadn't even been sure that Stark had invited him, specifically, to the party.
"I'm pretty sure Stark didn't say anything about me going to this."
"Damn 'em. You're my guest."
And that had settled that.
Now, he's found a nook in the doorway of the Tower's fancy-ass, gleaming stainless steel kitchen with his propped up against one of the counters and his beer in his hand. Watching everybody interact as he made himself scarce - parties, no matter how casual, aren't really his thing. Watching Maria Hill share a laugh with James Rhodes in the far corner of the room. Thor (he of the Asgardian war garb) in swanky civvies while settling his hammer down on a coffee table before taking a seat a few spaces from Steve on the couch.
Not to mention, the way his friend literally danced around a certain brunette who, herself, mingled and socialized around the big living space. Laughing. Smiling. Charming people she came into contact with.
She makes an impression. He thinks as she gestured wildly with big eyes and small hands passing through the air as she told her tales. She seemed to stay with others even when she'd left them.
Though the most interesting interaction he'd watched thus far had been when she'd plopped down in between Thor and Steve.
Steve, who tensed and relaxed, as she did.
Steve, who eyed the way her skirt briefly rode up her thigh a bit before she righted it, seemingly oblivious to the attention she'd gotten from the supersoldier.
And Steve, who's nostrils flared and grip tightened on the neck of his beer bottle.
Interesting.
If he hadn't been who he is. If he hadn't had all his training and practice with observing the most minute of human behaviors throughout his career. Hadn't actually spent as much time as he had with Steve Rogers as much as he had. Hadn't been payingattention... he wouldn't have noticed most, if not all, these things.
Steve has it bad and it's funny as hell how much he barely knows it.
Or so it seems. Steve is one of the smartest, most intuitive people he knows, not to mention the most hard-headed and this just might be one of those things he's being stubborn about.
And Lewis? She's a lot more subtle in her own way. Which is... impressive. Impressive in the way she can quickly go from glancing wistfully at Rogers one minute and then schooling her features to joke around with the god sitting next on the other side of her.
She's impressive, overall. Everybody seems to love her. Each of the Avengers, specifically, kind of adore her in varying degrees.
Steve, being kind of the exception.
He wonders if they are both actually that oblivious or being intentionally stupid.
The most amusing part is that everyone else and their mother seems to notice. He's caught some of the inner circle of heroes sharing bemused looks at the pair every now and again as they avoided each other's eye.
The expression on Roger's face when Darcy had to get up and accidently (awkwardly) used to his shoulder as support to walk on by? Priceless. Soo priceless.
Maybe his vacation won't be as mind-numbingly boring as he'd originally thought.
And the more he watched his best friend and the woman he'd once rescued throughout the night, the more a plan of action started to brew.
So, he had come to a big conclusion: Darcy wants to get her hands on Steve in a bad way. She wants to climb him like a tree (dammit, Skye!). She wants to go on dates with and hold the enhanced soldier's hand. Ugh.
He takes a deep breath.
Clearly, he's gonna have to do something about this.
He's been SHIELD's best specialist for a decade. Has dropped into enemy territory under heavy fire. Diffused bombs under extreme pressure...
...So, matchmaking shouldn't be a big deal. Right?
Having Darcy Lewis show up at his door the next morning - looking at turns, apologetic and sheepish, of all things - is the first unexpected something that happens during his stay at Avengers Tower.
And he has a feeling it won't be the last.
"Hi." She greets cheerfully. The only indication that the alcohol from the night before having touched her at all, being the slightly croaky quality of her voice and the kind of bloodshot look of her eyes behind the dark-rimmed glasses she's sporting.
Otherwise, she looks fresh as a daisy.
Honestly. Between the fitted, red knit sweater she's wearing and the early morning, freshly made up complexion, Grant just assumes that she's one of those woman that can hardly look like shit even if they tried.
It's another, more subtle level of attractive than the kind he'd seen last night and he thinks it suits her more. Better, in fact.
Funny, considering, last he saw her, she had been on the losing end of a drinking contest with Thor. A contest he, himself, had taken part in before realizing he'd been way out of his depth in trying to out drink a Norse god with a limitless tolerance for vodka.
"Hi." He echoes with some surprise.
"Sorry, I just..." She lowers the hand she'd been so clearly about to knock on his door with before he had opened it with the intention of heading to Stark's allegedly well-stocked kitchen for coffee to quell this slight headache he has. "I just..."
She trails off, clearly embarrassed, shuffling a bit on the spot and he finds it kind of funny because something obliviously has changed since her combative response to him yesterday and he wonders what the hell it is.
"You just?" He asks, bemused but, not unkind.
She hums under her breath, clearing thinking hard and just when he's about to interject again, blurts out. "I wanted to apologize!"
He knows that. Even though she winces at her words, judging by her facial expression and body language, he'd understood that already but... "About?"
"Yesterday." She shrugs, trying to go for nonchalant and utterly failing in the attempt. "I had a talk with Jane yesterday." She's teeter tots on her feet anxiously. "Actually, less of a talk. More of rant..." She rolls her eyes, steam-rolling. "Okay, fine, I was ranting. I ranted a bit. A lot. I rant a lot about you disappearing after the well. And about how I was embarrassed that you'd seen me at my worst and were probably walking around, thinking about that half-blind dumbass you had save from a goddamn well and that that was the reason why I was so rude-"
"Darcy." He interrupts firmly, her rambling coming to a halt. "You. Need. To. Take. A. Deep. Breath." He stresses, remembering her endless, anxiety-riddled chatter after the well.
She does as he says just like she did then and then looks at him wearily. "Anyway, she said I should try and explain myself-"
Oh, jesus. "You don't have to-"
"-And so I was thinking when I woke up hugging a toilet." She continues as though he hadn't spoken. "And thought the best thing to give as an olive branch to someone is to buy them a cup of joe and so, I was wondering if..."
"If?"
"...If you would let me buy you a coffee." The further surprise must show on his face somehow because she reiterates quickly, eyes widening. "Oh no! Not like that. I mean, not that you're not..." She makes a vague gesture at his anatomy. "...Because clearly, you totally are and anyway, I'm not in the right place for that and whatever, that's not what this is about so-"
She's getting up to rambling again and so, he makes a quick decision. "Okay." He says, shrugging, because he'd do anthing right now to put end to her awkward talking and if this is gonna make her feel better well, it works for him.
Seriously. He's been jonsing for a good cup of coffee since he woke up and she is offering so...
"Oh." She says after processing what he said, a brighter expression lighting up her face. "Really?"
"Yeah." He nods. Really."
"Great!" She says with an enthusiasm that's hard to take when you're slightly hung over - damn Norse drinking contests, damn 'em to hell! - before nearly bouncing in place. "I'll meet you down in the lobby. Bye!" She bids before turning around and heading down to the hall towards the elevators.
"Bye." He echoes softly before closing the door, lips quirking up in the corners.
"Up for a walk?" Is the first thing he gets asked the minute he steps foot outside the Tower after meeting her in the lobby. The still early, cool morning biting yet pleasant in the air and the streets still decently bereft of it's usual crowds and he sees Darcy practically vibrating on her toes, having added on a beanie and gloves to her ensemble.
"Yeah. I'm up for it." He says, stuffing his hands into his leather jacket. "What'd you have in mind?"
She just grins and off they go.
It's still early in that the streets are more forgiving when they first start their track down to the coffee shop even though there's literally a Starbucks everywhere they turn and forget them, you're gonna love this place, Grant so, he forgoes any questions and follows her lead.
And it's a pretty nice walk. For a little while, at least.
Inevitably, though, people do start crowding into the New York sidewalks and even with his height, he has to fight not to squash people under him and makes sure he doesn't lose her in the crowds of morning commuters. Though, it turns out, he has no cause for worry because Darcy, small as she may be, is quick and light on her feet and he has to struggle to keep up with her, even after she's grabbed his hand to drag his taller frame behind her.
So much so that he hefts out a sigh once they finally round a corner in Chelsea onto a tree-lined block that seems a world away from the suits and busy bodies they've just left behind them and when she stops them in front of an unassuming store front, he pauses long enough that it keeps her from entering and she turns look at him as he stares at the shop logo.
"That supposed to be funny?" He asks, remembering a tipsy Dr. Foster admitting that Darcy had called him Secret Agent Grumpy Face (purely coincidence) after their first meeting at that well and his subsequent disappearing on her.
But, this is pretty much taking that joke to a whole new level.
She stands next to him so, that they're both looking at the roughly drawn outline of an unhappy lone face with it's eyebrows drawn inward over beady dots for eyes and a frown on the thin, angry mouth. "It's supposed to be hilarious. Come on, Stretch." She tugs toward him towards the entrance, pulling on his arm harder than necessary when he doesn't budge. "Come on. Momma needs her coffee."
He chuckles and allows her to move him into the coffee shop by his elbow.
"Hi, Darcy!" The petite blonde exclaims at the corner upon seeing her walk in, shaking her hair out of the beanie and then getting rid of her gloves during her walk to the counter. "Your usual this morning?"
"Hey, Steph." She greets in response with a free, friendly smile and a nod to the chalkboard menu. "Yup. That'll be fantastic right about now. Thank you."
The girl behind the counter nods, jotting down her order. "Alright. And..." She pauses upon seeing him looming behind Darcy, a frown similar to the sign outside pulling at her face. "Uh... Who-?"
Darcy waves her hand nonchalantly at him. "Ignore him and his face. He's just a... recently acquired acquaintance." She describes and he scoffs over her head.
"Hi." He smirks at the slightly alarmed expression on the cashier's face. Knowing the picture he's painting: Tall, dark-clothed man in a leather jacket sporting growing stubble and still healing facial scars.
He also knows, even without that, he could sometimes intimidate people. Though it couldn't hurt if some would exercise a little discretion. Can't be that hard, could it?
The girl continues to look at him in a way that makes him itch to act on the amusing thought of how she'd react if he adjusted his jacket just so and she got a peak at his side arm.
It's a café with other people around, though. Probably not a smart idea. But, very tempting.
He doesn't find it amusing, however, when she leans into Darcy and whispers. "Darcy... is everything okay... Do you need any help or-"
"I can hear you, princess." He snaps impatiently.
"I'm sorry about him." Darcy immediately says at the insulted glare on the cashier's face. "He's just... yeah. And anyway, he'll have..." She scours the menu and then looks at him, to which he shrugs. "Nnnn... Algae? Diesel fuel- Okay. I got nothing." She echoes his shrug. "You gotta help me out here, friend."
He rolls his eyes and turns to the girl who thinks he kidnaps people. "You ever heard of a black-eye?"
"Uh-huh." She utters wearily.
"I'll have a vat of that. Largest you got, please." He nods as she takes down his order, side-eyeing the woman next to him. "Happy?"
"Very."
They snatch a table near the front of the shop but, away from the windows enough as to not agitate their respective hangovers - Grant, taking a seat with his back to the wall, old habits and all that - him with his extra large morning coffee and Darcy with her big vanilla latte (extra espresso and vanilla with a dollop of whipped cream, he would soon learn) and he waits as she blows the steam off the top before taking a slow sip.
"Good?"
"God, yes." She says honestly, putting her café mug down. "I've been thinking about this since I woke up at ass o'clock in the morning with my head on my bathroom tile." After she takes another, much longer drag of her latte, she sets it down and gives him an amused, curious look. "How'd you fare? You slipped out pretty early from the fun."
He scoffs because he has no idea who she thinks she's fooling since he'd beenthere, still lucid and clear-headed enough when he had opted out of the drinking game from hell, that he knows with complete certainly that she had been losing hard at that particular junction and he's pretty damn sure that, no matter how great she actually seems like she's taking it, that she is feeling all of it.
Regardless, it gets the ball rolling and they spend the next while talking about... mostly nothing. Starting from their chat about Asgardians's unlimited tolerance to high-end alcohol as well as the odd party games that superheroes engage in when they're not saving the world, Ward doesn't think he's ever had a more casual, relaxing conversation since sharing those cheap beers at that dive bar with Steve all that time ago back in Moscow.
And no, the irony is not lost on him.
He also learns that Darcy's role within the Avengers is being a glorified wrangler of SI's most respected scientists: A manic, health-ignorant astrophysicist, a gamma-ray studying physicist with breathtaking anger issues, and a narcissistic billionaire who wears a metal suit of his own design.
And also, their fellow group of world-saving compatriots that include a WWII supersoldier, a very skilled archer, and a sem-enhanced former Russian assassin.
"...So, basically I'm an advanced nanny of sorts." She says, finishing up her latte and plopping her porcelain mug onto the table. "Though I get paid a shit ton more than I ever did babysitting five-year-olds in my neck of the woods." She adds, chuckling.
He also explains - now that there isn't any classification keeping him from doing so - his own work in what used to be SHIELD before it had fallen. Finding himself telling her about his missions as it's top specialist. His adventures (both on and off the job) with Trip and Bobbi. Making her laugh as he shares the more amusing anecdotes of his job and it's few (rare) fails.
At one point, there's an unexpected lull in their chatter and he watches her stare down at her empty latte cup, thumping her fingers on the sides of the sturdy porcelain and this is actually, since they'd met, that he's ever seen her this awkward.
Even way back when he'd gotten her out of that well and she'd babbled non-stop in anxiety, there had been a certain tone to her. A sharp edge to her personality... But, this?
"Darcy-"
"I didn't know it was you!" She blurts, barring no mind to the slight turning of heads in their direction. Though, clearing her throat before leaning closer in her chair and rolling her eyes. "I mean, back at the Tower. I saw some footage of you and Stev- uh, Cap - arriving in the helipad." She adds apologetically. "You look..." She waves a light hand over him. "...different then you did then, obviously and I... didn't realize it was you you. I just... anyway, I really do wanna apologize for the way I acted yesterday." She admits, looking at him earnestly in a manner he's certain is rare for her. "I was just..." He exhales through her words. "...remembering a very embarrassing moment in that damn well and you reminded me of that and... anyhow, I'm sorry." She extends a pointed hand at him. "Do over? Friends maybe?"
He stares at her and the clear offer of handshake.
He gets her not really recognizing him at first because, aside from his first name, he hadn't told her anything more about himself. Certainly not that he's working with one of the superheroes she just so happens to live around. Or that a huge part of why he'd so readily saved her had been because of his own horrible memories in slightly similar circumstances. Or that the whole time he had been seeing a younger, helpless Tommy in her place.
And with any luck, he won't ever have to tell her that last part.
In any case, he had been dressed in outdoors-appropriate clothing and gear and had been miles beyond a five o'clock shadow so, that had explained that, really.
And yeah, if she thinks he's gonna let her gloss over that little stammer over Steve's name, she's sorely mistaken.
"Do over." He says sincerely, shaking her hand and all too pleased at her firm grip.
And it's nice... until her phone rings.
"Oh, damn." She utters, frowning at her phone.
"What?"
She waves her phone at him. "Stark's got meetings. Means I gotta wear a dress." She tsks under breath, not happy. "Shit."
He laughs as they get up to leave.
It doesn't really take him long to realize that when Darcy Lewis labels you as a friend, no matter how casual, she definitely means it.
It's not even so much her scouting him out within the Tower as much as they keep finding each other and he actually doesn't mind. She's smart, funny, and once he's gotten past her initial abrasiveness, sweet. Being on Darcy's list of people she likes is something he enjoys, surprisingly, and there's nary an encounter that they have that he's not entertained.
She spends a good part of her day around Foster, Banner, and at most, Stark. So much so that she hardly ever takes a real lunch break and every so often he finds her in a form of organized chaos with the scientists and their jockeys in the lab as he has to try wisk her away for well-earned pastrami sandwich (or at the very least, for her to whip something up for the both of them that the others constantly pick at).
Which, yeah, it's something that happens: After that surprising trip to the coffee shop and she manages to grab a hold of him, there are more coffee trips. Coffee trips that turn into full-on breakfast meals - again, either out or something delicious she happens to cook. Breakfasts that turn into shared lunches.
It's nice. More than nice. Even though at times he feels like he's encroaching on his buddy's territory.
But, he's not. This is harmless.
Sooner than he'd thought possible, he even ingratiates himself in the daily goings on of Avengers Tower.
By way of his friendship with Steve, he already has enough pull on his side to gain, at least, some semblance of leeway within the Avengers proper. And they all ingratiate to him in their own ways.
(Which is to say they bluntly let him know that they'll do him a great deal of harm if he ever betrays their friend and colleague.
It's not often he gets threatened like that and actually takes it seriously but, well...
Most of them aside, there's a reason the Black Widow is the template in which espionage is held and the very fact that his record in such work has been compared to hers is a compliment onto itself. She has more cunning in her sleep than most people have in their waking lives.)
And nevermind, the looks he's been on the receiving end of because of his aforementioned interactions with Darcy. And he realizes, right quick, that it maybe has most to do with the fact that most, if not all, of them have the same inkling that he's gotten since seeing the two of them together for the first time:
Namely, the known fact that Cap and Lewis have... something... between them, to put it simply.
Even as they are both woefully unequipped to handle it.
Makes the frown he knows Steve is giving him when Darcy tells him to sit next to her on movie nights all that much more understandable.
He hasn't forgotten his plan. Oh no. He hasn't forgotten it at all.
And he thinks the best way to start is to visit a certain Avengers wrangler... Which is how he finds himself in her kitchen - one he's never been in despite knowing she has an apartment located on Thor and Jane Foster's sleeping quarters - on a Saturday morning. His feet propped up on another chair as he sits lounging until she wakes up.
Which she does at exactly the time he'd expected because there's one constant his intel has given him is that even though Darcy is most definitely not a morning person, her schedule throughout the official five day work week has started to bleed into her weekends and she actually rises earlier than she wants to.
The very same thing she's doing right now, in pastel hydrangea-patterned pajamas and bunny slippers, as she immediately heads to her automatic Stark model coffee machine. Not even noticing him sitting at her table until he greets her.
"Hey."
She starts, spinning quickly around with a hand to her chest and a shriek on her lips before gasping. "Oh my god, why?!" Before realizing who in fact is in her kitchen and squinting from behind her glasses.
"Morning." He says, with a shit-eating grin on his face.
"Jesus." She mutters, clutching her chest before glaring at him in exasperation. "What are you doing? How did you get inside my apartment?"
He points above his head. "JARVIS?"
"Apologies, Miss Lewis..." The AI's familiar British dulcet tones supply into the air. "...Agent Ward has told me he had a personal meeting with you this morning."
Her eyes narrow at him clearly trying not to laugh at her annoyance. "Has he now?"
"Yes... he actually specified that it had something to do with your relationship with Captain Rogers..." If they both hadn't known any better, they could have sworn that the AI sounded bemused. "...And I thought it best to let him into your apartment to handle the matter."
"Thank you, JARVIS." He says into nothing in particular before turning his attention back to the unamused brunette looking at him incredulously. "What?"
It'd been interesting. Seeing that odd shade of red take over her face the minute JARVIS had mentioned Steve's name. The way her eyes had widened and she started fidgeting in response.
Only now, she's just glaring at him.
"No."
"No, what?"
"No." She heads to her refrigerator and starts pulling out assorted items - orange juice, egg carton, packet of bacon, etc., - while she continues. "Whatever it is you are about to do, don't. Because you would not be the first one to try it so..."
"So?" He smirks. Of course, he shoulda known this wouldn't come easy. He'd just thought it might if he came out with the easy approach of telling her what he thinks (knows) is happening.
He'll just have to try harder, apparently.
"Soo... eggs and sausage this morning?"
The next few weeks - in between pizza/burgers/movie nights with the Avengers, their very significant others, and Darcy, the wrangler of All That Is Important - Ward comes to realize another ridiculously obvious fact: Matchmaking is a bitch!
Really. Every time he tries to go through with a plan he assumes is gonna take... it doesn't.
He's tried creating scenarios where they have no choice but, to sit next to each other during social activities in the common room.
He even has incidents to cause these two idiots to be alone together.
The most hilarious being sending Lewis to grab an item of import from Steve when there hadn't been one morning while, knowing full well that Cap sleeps sans shirt half the time anyway (shameless yet effective).
And so, when the brunette fluttered back to her apartment blushing and sputtering, he calls it a win.
And of course, Stark has to find out. It's not like he has enough difficulties on this mission.
("Soo... setting up the Capsicle and Lewis, are we?"
"Stark, I swear to Christ-"
"And you didn't invite me to the party, for shame!"
"Don't you dare say-"
"I personally, just to say my peace, think you're wasting your time."
"......................."
"Do you want in?"
"Yes, I do.")
And predictably, after that, it starts to become clear that everybody seems to know. Which, given Tony Stark's big mouth, would not be that big of a surprise. At all. Hawkeye asks him if he can spy on the two through the air ducts if need be. Thor, he of the massive biceps and literal ball-busting back slap, congratulates him on getting a 'good match together' which, ugh, like he needs the damn pressure. And true story, the mainly unintrusive Banner says he'd give him a cool twenty to 'just end the tension, please, the Other Guy doesn't like it either'.
All in all, it's not really that awful. Frustrating, yeah as hell, but he mainly enjoys spending time with Darcy.
Even if they both don't get their heads out of their ass, at least he can say he's got to say that.
When he's not spending it with Steve - sparing, leaving on sporadic leads on Barnes's whereabouts, being in the company of the Avengers - he finds himself in Darcy's apartment. Mainly her kitchen and then living room for once become their very own movie night.
If there's one major component he enjoys the most about hanging out with Darcy (easily in the top five) is that she's a damn fine cook. Something he'd learned quickly when she had made an amazing balsamic roasted pork loin for everyone on one of his first few nights at the Tower.
So, they'd have a movie picked out with dinner.
Tonight it's spaghetti pomodoro and the Godfather films.
"I can't believe you've never seen the Godfather!" She exclaims from her stove, the smell of alfredo sauce simmering hanging in the air, as Ward sits behind her at the kitchen counter. "It's like a crime against humanity."
"I'm sure it is." He responds sardonically, trying to discreetly sniff the air. "Are you gonna be done any time soon?"
"Take it easy, speed racer. The key to this dish is time."
"Well, make time move quicker then. I'd like to eat some time soon, please."
Apparently, arguing about patience when it comes to good food makes time really fly and sooner than his appetite thought possible, they're sitting in front of her television while Don Corleone dances with his daughter at her wedding with two heaping plates of food.
"Oh, that's good." He says freely after taking a big bite exploding with tomato sauce and herbs. "Damn, that's good."
"I know that but, thank you." She quips, folding her legs under her while balancing her plate on her lap. "Learned from my old neighbor back in my apartment in Brooklyn when I first moved here." She twirls a helping of spaghetti around her fork and after promptly taking it, starts speaking with her mouth half-full. "Mrs. Linetti. Crazy old bat but, she was always nice to me. Had this granddaughter, Gina, who I'm pretty sure is certifiable. Kinda cool though. Has a dance troupe."
He turns from watching Sonny fuck his mistress in a bathroom to ask her with sincere interest. "And you moved here after...?" He trails off, realizing that, aside from knowing her involvement with Dr. Foster and Thor, he hadn't asked exactly asked how she had gotten involved with the rest of the Avengers and had started living in Tony Stark's Tower, of all places.
Steve had been no help on that front. He mostly just opens his mouth when talking about her to grunt in sexual frustration and/or growl about something she'd done without realizing it. Taking said frustration out on other people because that's helpful.
"I actually didn't wanna live that closely to Jane and Thor because yuck, there's only so much godly sex I can stand hearing." She says, picking at her pasta distractedly. "And also, I wanted to have my own space without a needy scientist or a college roommate or my mother looking over my shoulder so, I rented from this pretty cheap building on the other side of the bridge and then found out on the second day that my squatter was a mother rat and her seven kids so, I bounced, took a job offer from Stark, and moved in here."
"Being the Avenger's wrangler?"
"That's right." She hums, taking another big hunk of noodles and sauce.
They start in again on the movie and lose themselves in the telling history of a Mafia family. Taking in the change of Michael Corleone. His transformation from black sheep to reluctant murderer. He's not had a lot of time for movies in the past because like music, it's just an indulgence he couldn't afford to pay attention to. He finds himself getting caught up in the story that he's actually surprised when Darcy pauses on Michael's rapt face upon meeting his future bride in Sicily and asks him. "More spaghetti?"
"Yeah. Thanks." He hands his plate and after some thought, follows her. His long-forgotten plan taking hold inside his mind after the earlier conversation. "You seeing anybody?"
She throws him a funny look over her shoulder. "I don't know. Are you?"
"We aren't talking about me. We're taking about you."
She scoffs, face still turned away from him as she piles on second servings onto their two plates. "No. No, I'm not." She finally says, just a touch glumly, he notes. "Why does it matter?"
He actually feels kinda bad because of that so, with a few vague words, he drops it and they get back to the movie with their refilled plates of spaghetti and twenty minutes into it, he gets to thinking and knows that even though Darcy has been opening up to him, he hasn't really been doing the same. She knows he had a dysfunctional childhood and that he's not had contact with his family in years.
She doesn't know about his brothers. Not exactly. She's his friend but, he can't... not yet.
Meanwhile, he knows that she's an only child with an easily frustrated single mother who never understood her and whom she still loves even though they don't speak as much as they used to.
He knows her coffee and tea order. Knows that a day without good cup o' joe is a day of hell down at the labs.
And also knows that Steve has sketchbooks upon sketchbooks of her hidden in a drawer he thinks Grant doesn't know about.
He thinks about the glum tone of her voice when he had asked if she's single.
He thinks about how much he desperately misses Jemma. How she's so far away from him and he aches to see her more and more everyday. How much she would actually like Darcy. That she would remind her of Skye, like he often thinks.
Which sends another fission of pain through him. He misses the former rookie. He misses Fitz and his neurosis. He misses a lot of things.
And Darcy must notice because once she glances at him, her brows pops up over expressive eyes and she asks. "What's the matter, frowny face? You're missing out on the movie. It's getting to the best part-"
"I'm engaged." He says calmly, gauging her expression. "Jemma. I have a fiancée."
Darcy coughs, clearly caught off guard, around her bite of spaghetti and sauce and he helps by patting her on the back for a bit before clearing her throat and taking a drink of soda before turning on him and socking him in the arm.
Surprising him because dammit, she could hit.
"Jesus!"
"What the fuck, guy?! I thought we were friends! You can't not say shit like that until the last damn minute!"
"Sorry. I didn't know there were actual rules to friendship." He says in annoyance, glowering at her because shit, what a reaction. "I didn't even know there's a timeline. Jesus Christ."
"Oh, come on." She scoffs, sitting back comfortably on the couch with her drink and booting him lightly in the shoulder. "I didn't hit you that hard."
After the movie ends and he gives it due appreciation - "see, I fucking knew it, how awesome am I?" - she brings up the subject again, giving him a look over her cola bottle.
"So, who's the lucky lady? What she do? What does she look like?"
"Okay, first of all..." He begins, already feeling the pounding in his head coming on at her incessant. This is what he gets for opening up. "...Calm down. Secondly, she's a scientist."
Her look becomes slack with surprise which, y'know ouch, but he gets it. "You bagged a scientist?"
"A biochemist and yeah, try not to sound too shocked." He says, mildly irked.
"Come on, you know what I mean..." She utters, flinging her hands in the air before settling in her kitchen stool and then leaning forward with her fists beneath her chin, causing him to shrink away from her semi-manic expression. Seriously, she's like the little sister he's starting to regret having.
(A place he knows instantly his mind shouldn't go... it makes him think of Elizabeth... probably more than that day at The Well, it's something that pains him too much to think about...)
He distracts himself by shirking out his cellphone and dotting through his few personal photos and finding the one he had taken nearly two months ago during one of the last two occasions he had last seen Jemma on a layover in Belgium following Steve saving her after her undercover stint at HYDRA ended badly - of which he'd been unaware of until then and he still has a bone to pick with Coulson about.
The picture is an intimate close-up of them: Her lovely face smiling into the camera beatifically while he gazes down in a manner being that of a, as Fitz would often say, 'besotted fool'.
Something he hadn't been wrong about because a few weeks later, after they spend four blissful days in Italy together, he had asked her to marry him.
Believe it or not, it's actually his least embarrassing so, he hands it over to Darcy.
"Oh!" She grins after a minute of observing it. The look almost gleeful. "Nice. Bravo. You did good."
He chuckles because yeah, he knows. Jemma is the most amazing woman he's ever known met and the only one he's ever loved and it's not something he has trouble admitting.
"Hmm." She hums, staring at the snap shot another moment later before giving him a very pointed look, a specific glint in her eye. "How's the sex?"
And that's the end of that.
It's an alien invasion, of all things, that puts everything in perspective.
Which is just... Thank you, Chitauri, for opening up those floodgates. Thanks a lot.
The Avengers, of course, take ground in upper and lower Manhattan to faze out the problem - those slimy, spider things being the out of this world problem - and Ward, being the only trained guest within The Tower, gets tasked with people control and making sure most of the building is safe.
Which is just as well because what's he do, try his gun on the aliens?
Once he's gotten every alive SI employee into a secure nook of the Tower (being the underground bunker Stark had built for this type of thing specifically), he's so busy that he forgets something important completely.
He'll later realize how foolish he'd been but, once he remembers, he turns to Dr. Foster.
"Where's Darcy?"
The doubling of panic in the astrophysicist's eyes only causes the feeling in his gut to get worse. "...Oh, god... I swear I thought she was behind me... I didn't realize-"
"It's fine." He interrupts, trying not to be terse in the face of her emotional reaction. "I'll go get her. Stay here." He orders before getting to work on the rest of the tower to find Darcy.
It's just lucky that he gets to the first place that makes sense, being the lab.
He finds her there.
And she's not alone.
She's with Steve.
He assesses pretty quickly that the lab is in near shambles and that Darcy must have got caught up in it if the head wound she's sporting is any indication.
That is what makes him wanna come forward and see if she's alright for himself. Check for head trauma. Broken bones. Twists or sprains. Literally conclude that she's in one piece.
However, what's actually happening in front of him right now causes him to pause.
Steve seems to have been in the act of helping her up off the floor. Gingerly cradling her arms and gazing into her face as he speaks softly to her in words Grant can't hear. One of his hands travelling from the croak of her elbow to the side of her face to settle a lock of dark hair behind her ear where he lingers for a beat too long. Hands ending up on her shoulders as he gazes at her with an expression Ward recognizes all too well in the mirror whenever he's with Jemma.
Of course, Captain 'I'm So Stubborn' America would wait until The Tower is in shreds with aliens outside and the woman he cares about has been injured. Typical.
Then, Grant had kissed Jemma for the first time after the organization they'd given their lives to had fallen flat on it's face.
well... that's... well...
In ay case, the scene in front of him feels too... much. Too tender and intimate for him to witness at least and he honestly feels like he's intruding. Despite the fact that, short of knocking their heads together, he'd been trying to get these two idiots to get on with it.
Regardless, this isn't the time and he should alert them to his presence before the situation evolves into something he really shouldn't see.
Though before he could open his mouth, Cap's gaze switches from soft to cool and lands on him.
Darcy follows his eyes and right when she spots Grant at the entryway, she pulls away from Steve and even from his vantage point, he could see the slightly pained look on his friend's face.
Darcy barrels into him with a bear hug that he returns a moment too late as she wraps her arms around his middle before pulling her face away from his chest to look up at him. "I know I shouldn't have been here. Come to yell at me?"
She sounds plaintive. Smaller than she normally is and he worries that she really had gotten a good knock upside the head and it looks like he's not far off, considering the drying blood at her hairline.
"Sounds like it would become my favorite past time but, no." He says just to indulge her. "...Dr. Foster's worried about you. Come on. Let's go." He adds, and as they start to leave, he throws a nod to Rogers that the other man returns with an unreadable look.
They're obviously gonna have to talk about this at some point but, for the moment, they both have things to do and he's just thinking about how none of his other plans had taken any of this into account. At all.
"You know that line between you've got..." He points in between his own eyes as he leans into the boxing ring behind him while watching Steve beat the crap out of a bag a week after the spider alien invasion. "...is soo tight you could snap a twig on it, right?"
The man in question just continues to pumble and pumble until he stops with a barely unintelligible grunt and walks to his usual bench in order to unwrap his hands.
"So?"
Steve looks up at him for the first time since he walked in here an hour ago. "So?"
"You've been avoiding me." There, he'd said it. One of the few best friends he has in the world has been avoiding him hard for the past week since the invasion. And he has a sick feeling he knows why.
But, he needs to hear it from him, just to make sure.
It'd actually be pretty damn hilarious if not so frustrating.
Steve merely grunts in response to his statement and finishes unwrapping his hands. "I've been busy."
"Oh, yeah?" He asks sardonically because bullshit. "What have you been up to? Because last I checked, the Barnes op is something we're in on together and correct me if I'm wrong but, none of you have had any Avengers missions in the past week, so-"
"So, what's your point, Ward?"
Oh, that's... he must be pissed then. He hardly ever calls him Ward unless it's on mission duty and usually sticks to calling him Grant whenever he's just being Steve and not the Cap.
And obviously, his more cautious approach isn't working it's charm and he could easily blame all the frustration, eye-rolling annoyance, and headache-inducing planning from the past few weeks for what he says next. "You haven't been in to see how Darcy's doing? Have an allergy against visiting young women you're so clearly crazy over after you've saved their asses?"
Steve looks up with a sharp look. "I don't-"
"Yeah. Right. Okay." He says, shaking his head. "She actually thinks that you're avoiding her, just so you know."
"I'm not avoiding her." The blond man grumbles under his breath, fists clenching at his side.
Good. He deserves this. "Yeah, because being here and punching things when you should be seeing the woman you care about is completely fine."
A sentence which he realizes soon after is a touch hypocritical but, well...
Steve laughs, a bitter harsh sound he's not used to hearing from his friend, before saying darkly. "And you would, of course, know this because she ran to you after I found her. Because you guys have gotten so close, haven't you?" He adds, looking at Ward with an expression which causes the cogs in his brain to sort everything out.
And the conclusion is...
"He thinks you're doing the nasty with her."
....horrifying. What the fuck??
Everything somes to a screeching halt then.
"Ew." He can hardly keep the sound to himself. Darcy isn't gross and he's not disgusted, per say. She's great and everything. Better than great. But... no. Hell no. No, thank you. She's like the long lost sibling he never knew he'd wanted and oh god, no. "What the hell?"
Steve blinks, the mood shifting and he shuffles on his feet a bit, looking severely uncomfortable. "Well, uh, I just thought-"
"You thought what? That I was sleeping with Darcy?"
Now, the other man just seems embarrassed, if a little defensive. "It crossed my mind."
"First of all, asshole..." He starts, knowing it not really necessary to call him that because he's honestly not that angry but, it is extremely important for what follows. "...I have a fiancée."
"I know." His friend hangs his head. A little glum. Somewhat guilty.
"...A woman you've met. In the flesh." He peers at his sullen-looking buddy. "And you know how I feel about her. Really. I can't believe you would think that I-"
"I'm sorry." The super soldier runs a frustrated hand through his hair. "It's just..."
"Just?"
"...You remind me so much of Bucky sometimes." Steve admits with a ragged sigh and Grant stays silent, not knowing what to say. Being compared to Bucky Barnes is not a light thing. "He was always so... confident. With everything. With women. With life. With..." Steve suddenly, unexpectedly looks his age. All the decades he missed visibly weighing down on him in front of Ward's eyes. "...One of the main reasons I became who I am was because of him."
"And where does Darcy fit into all this?"
"She doesn't." His best friend tells him after a long moment. Looking utterly miserable. "Ever since I met her, I just... I haven't been able to get her out of my head." He leans against the wall behind with a sound of exasperation. "She's just soo... much. She's loud and full of life. She grabs your attention and keeps it there." Grant could clearly something in Steve's voice. A quality he hadn't heard since early on in their friendship when Peggy Carter would come up in conversation. "And I don't know what to do with that. So, I just... started treating her like an acquaintance. Like she doesn't light up my day by being alive. By completely being herself and telling silly stories. Bucky would have liked her..." His voice is just a touch wistful before he scoffs. "Hell, Bucky would have gotten her already."
"Steve, really?"
"I know. I know." The other man says, shaking his head, a far off look in his eyes. "I didn't mean to presume you would ever... It's just you two had gotten so close." He jerks his head, a bitter twist to his lips now. "I thought I had lost my shot."
"We're just friends." He supplies honestly and is already starting to feel foolish about not having done this early on. Not coming to Steve and getting to the root of the thing instead of spying and planning. It is what his friend would do after all. "She's great. Honestly. But, we're not..." He trails off, letting the silence speak for itself.
Steve's head snaps sharply in his direction. "Do you think she could ever...?"
"I don't know." He says because he doesn't and he hasn't outright asked how she actually feels about Steve. Other than she obviously having a slight crush on him that she will not discuss. "You're gonna have to ask her."
They table that discussion for the time bring.
Grant doesn't even realize Steve has taken his advice until a week later during his and Darcy's movie night while said grumpy patient - most of her injuries having healed as well her head wound being on the mend - sits on the couch in Ward's guest quarters (located on Steve's floor in the Tower), clad in her favorite black stretchy pants and one of her favorite, silly printed sweatshirts, the one she's wearing at the memont being dark gray with 'Brooklyn Hearted' in red across the chest and he's busy getting a lasagna into the oven.
He's finally admitted to being a pretty good cook himself and Darcy had just started badgering him until he'd given in and agreed to make her something for their next movie night together as he's assigned himself to take care of her.
And he really doesn't mind much being nurse maid.
Not that she'd made it easy. At first. The only thing that had caused her to agree with the arrangement at all - something everyone else had no problem with, due to her injuries - had been that his own honesty in telling her it'd make him feel better if he could keep an eye on her.
Tonight, it's Goodfellas with his lasagna.
He's just about done checking on it when the not oft-used ringer of his door sounds out into the apartment. "I'll get it. Hang on!"
"No, no. I got it." He hears Darcy shuffling onto her feet. Probably enthusiastic because he hasn't allowed to be off her ass in the past few days. "I have a small concussion. I'm not a cripple."
Yeah, a concussion small enough that it makes you so dizzy that you become nauseous with most vigorous movement and also, let's not forget yourfractured wrist and cracked ribs. He won't say because once he gets started so, does she and it's generally much more trouble than it's worth.
He hears the door open and when an odd, long silence follows, he goes to see who it is until he hears Darcy say with some surprise. "Steve, hi."
He stops right where he is, holding his breath.
"Darcy." He hears his best friend say awkwardly and stifles the immediate urge to laugh because Captain America can take on a whole army and HYDRA put together... but, when you put a women he's interested in in front of him, well... "I wanted to see how you were doing."
"I'm uh, fine." Darcy says after a minute and he could picture her doing that thing that she does when she shuffles a little and avoids eye contact before taking deep breaths and going head on. "How-?"
"Jane. She told me you were. Is Grant around?"
"He's in the kitchen." She says before adding quickly. "Do you want me to-?"
"No. No. It's fine." Steve says just as quickly. "I actually came to see you."
"Oh."
Oh god. The tension. The tension. Grant chants in his head, keeping a chortle to himself. He actually feels kinda bad that he's spying on his two closest friends. For the first since... well, ever, it actually feels wrong.
But, he does wanna hear how this plays out.
Another beat passes and he should intervene but, then... "Steve-"
"Would you go out to dinner with me?" He hears the man in question ask and if he were the same, his own mouth would have fallen open and he would have gasped in shock. But, he isn't and so, he doesn't, thank you very much.
"Like a... date?" Darcy asks with hesitation and hope. He doesn't think he's ever heard her sound like that in the time they've known each other except for a few occasions and those had been rarer still.
Steve, on his end, heaves a sigh and when he speaks, it's just as hopeful as Darcy had seemed. "Yes. Yeah. Definitely. Exactly like a date." He adds and he could picture the half-smile on his buddy's face. "So... will you? Tomorrow maybe?"
"I- Yeah. Yes. I would love that." She says in a rushed exhale and this time, he does laugh into his fist. This is just too funny and weird. But... also, very good. Progress. A lot of progress.
"Good." Steve utters the happiest Grant has ever heard him sound. "Great. I'll... call you later then?"
"Yeah." She answers, equally as delighted and christ, these two...
He's happy. She's happy. We're all fucking happy.
Ward manages to block out whatever ends up being the rest of their conversation because he's heard enough of that right now to know not all his efforts these past few weeks have been for nothing. These two, he swears...
It's another few minutes before he hears some familiar footsteps and Darcy appears at the entrance of the kitchen, looking flushed and very pleased. Glowing.
He plasters on an innocent, unknowing expression before he faces her while taking the lasagna out of the oven. "What happened? Who was it?"
"It was, uh, Steve." She says, blushing more and more by the second, leaning against the counter.
"Really? What'd he want?" He asks needlessly, starting to smirk despite himself as he places the food tray on the stove.
"He just wanted to see how I was doing and..." She trails off once she sees his growing smile. "...And you're totally fucking with me. Were you listening?!"
"Spy." He says simply, pointing to himself.
She lets out an incredulous laugh and stomps off. "Unbelievable!"
He laughs.
These past few weeks have been the most frustrating, stressful of his life and having been SHIELD's best specialist for almost a decade, he would never have thought that matchmaking would be his worst feat.
He hadn't but, still worked out.
And if he just happens to have won the bet against Stark... well, that's just a big, fat bonus.