Chapter Eleven
“A little help here?” Clint’s voice wobbled as he tried to balance the trays of cupcakes he was carrying in from the kitchen.
Natasha helped him set them down on the counter and instructed Darcy to start boxing them up. There was a huge wedding order due to be delivered first thing tomorrow morning. It was one of the biggest orders they had ever received, and everyone had been busting their asses to get the work done in time. Steve and Bruce had been baking nonstop for days trying to keep up with the regular orders and finish the wedding order on time. The order was for six hundred cupcakes and a four-tier wedding cake decked out with the best of the best. The bride had requested her favorite diamonds be incorporated into the wedding topper, so Clint had spent the past three days trying to come up with a design to please her, then piecing it together and adding the jewels. Darcy and Peter had been elbow deep in frosting all week. The order was so big that even Tony pitched in, rolling up his sleeves and tying on an apron. Natasha and Darcy had both made sure to get pictures, just in case they needed it for blackmail later in life. With the delivery deadline looming, everyone was running around like crazy, and Steve and Bruce hadn’t been to sleep in a couple of days.
“Clint!” Peter called from the balcony. “We’re out of sugar pearls.”
“Again?” Clint whined. “How many cupcakes do we have left to decorate?”
Peter turned to count. “At least two hundred.”
“I’ll go to the supply warehouse. Do we need anything else?” Clint asked, grabbing his keys.
Peter surveyed the balcony. “Not on the decorating end.”
Darcy pushed through the kitchen door. “We’re almost out of eggs and butter.”
Clint grabbed his jacket. “Good timing. I’m going on a supply run. Anything else?”
“Caffeine?” she requested.
Natasha glanced up from the order book. “Darcy, could you go with Clint? He tends to get distracted in the warehouse and we need those supplies as fast as possible.”
“Ma’am, yes, ma’am!” Darcy saluted, pulling her sweatshirt on.
Clint held the door open for her and followed her out to the car, leaving the bakery in relative silence. Had Tony gone with them, it would’ve been the quietest the bakery had been in three years.
“Whoa,” Darcy stared at the scene in front of her, jaw hanging open. “What is this, heaven?”
Clint grinned. “Pretty close to it for people like us. Come on, I’ll show you the pearl section.”
Darcy followed him slowly. “They have a whole section just for pearls?”
“Yep. And two whole aisles devoted entirely to gumpaste,” Clint told her, knowing gumpaste was her weakness.
Darcy stopped walking. “You’re shitting me. Can I live here?”
“That might be frowned upon. Especially since we finally got all our stuff moved into that freaking mansion a couple of days ago,” Clint pointed out.
“I can’t believe Tony bought us a house,” Darcy shook her head. “I can’t believe I share a house with eight other people that I actually like.”
“I can’t believe that there are eight people you actually like,” Clint teased.
Darcy rolled her eyes. “Keep laughing, Pearl Boy. Only one of us has a date tonight. The other will be spending the evening with a vat of Tiffany blue buttercream.”
Clint stopped at the end of a wide aisle, throwing his arms out to the sides. “Welcome to the pearl section.”
“No freaking way! This is so cool!” Darcy jumped up and down. “This place is like the Home Depot of baking. Is that a keg full of sugar pearls? I didn’t know I needed this until right now.”
“You’re in luck,” Clint said, hoisting the keg onto his shoulder. “Because this is exactly what we need. What else is on the list?”
Darcy glanced at the hastily scrawled notes on her wrist. “Eggs and butter. Also a room alone with that mixer. Hey, baby, how you doing?”
Clint grinned and kept walking. He’d no idea how much Darcy actually liked all of this bakery stuff until this week. She didn’t seem to mind staying up until three in the morning frosting perfect swoops on cupcakes. She actually enjoyed using the itty-bitty tweezers to pick up the miniscule spheres of pearly sugar and arranging them just so on the perfectly shaped mound of frosting. She had even willingly skipped a date to help Clint dye three vats of buttercream the exact shade of the Tiffany’s box the bride had given them as reference. Now, seeing her in the warehouse, he could tell that, even if she didn’t say so, she really enjoyed working at the bakery. Clint wondered for a moment if her boyfriend knew that, or if he, like Clint had initially, thought that Darcy was just in it for the college credit.
“Clint!” Darcy gasped, pulling him out of his thoughts.
His muscles tensed, mistaking her urgency for terror. “What? What’s the matter?”
Darcy pointed silently at the aisle in front of them. She made a noise on par with the angelic singing at the gates of heaven.
“Ah, you found the naughty cake section,” Clint sighed.
Darcy stepped into the aisle, dazed. “So many penis molds. So many model vaginas. Where have you been all my life?”
Clint bit back a chuckle. “Darcy. Focus. We have to get this stuff back to the bakery.”
“But,” Darcy whined, “look at the sugary phallic confections I could make with this!”
Clint pulled out his phone. “Okay I have to send this to Peter. Smile!”
Darcy struck a pose with the penis mold held in front of her like Excalibur.
“Okay,” she said, after Clint took the picture. “We can go now. My life is complete.”
Six dozen eggs, eight pounds of butter, and one leering cashier later, Clint and Darcy loaded their spoils into the back of the car and headed back to the bakery. They spent the entire ride back singing oldies very loudly and usually off key.
Peter hurried to hold open the door when he spotted Clint with the keg of decorations on his shoulder and Darcy laden down with bags of butter.
“Thanks, Parker. How’s it going?” Darcy asked.
Peter pulled the door shut behind them. “Not bad. There are only a couple dozen cupcakes left to frost, so we can just focus on decorating for a while. Steve and Bruce put the last batch of batter they had made into the pans. I’ll run the ingredients back there.”
“I’ve got it, Peter,” Steve volunteered, walking in from the kitchen with Tony right behind him. “Thank you two for going on a supply run. After tomorrow, I might rethink taking on cake orders for celebrities. This has all been one big kick in the ass.”
Natasha snorted. “No shit. If that little princess calls here one more time to check on the status of her order, I’m going to shove my foot-”
Natasha was interrupted by a loud crash in the kitchen, followed by dead silence. All of the blood drained out of Steve’s face and he dashed into the kitchen. Clint raced to the ladder and climbed as fast as his body would let him, throwing himself onto the floor of the balcony and snapping the curtains shut. The rest of them glanced at each other in fear and followed Steve quickly. The sight that greeted them had them screeching to a halt.
“ARE YOU FUCKING JOKING?” Bruce shrieked. “BECAUSE I’M NOT LAUGHING. THIS IS ME NOT LAUGHING!”
The top two tiers of the cake were splattered across the kitchen floor, a smear of blue frosting arcing across the front of the ovens. Bruce was covered in flecks of buttercream and cake debris.
Bruce was seething, a deadly glare burning into the mess on the floor. “THREE DAYS! I HAVEN’T SLEPT IN THREE FUCKING DAYS. MOTHERFUCKER! WHAT IS MY LIFE ANYMORE?! I SPENT THREE GODDAMN DAYS BAKING THAT PIECE OF SHIT AND GIVING IT ALL OF MY TENDER MOTHERFUCKING LOVING CARE AND THIS IS HOW IT REPAYS ME? BY FALLING ON THE FUCKING FLOOR? I- I- UGHHHH!”
In a fit of rage, Bruce ripped off his apron and tore his shirt in two, screaming in the agony known only by those who have seen their life’s work ripped into pieces and scattered to the wind. Bruce was breathing heavily, his jaw clenched and his eyes flashing. He looked as if he was about to drop to the ground and start pummeling the cake with his fists. Tony stepped towards him carefully.
“Take it easy big guy. It’ll be okay. Just calm down,” Tony cooed soothingly, taking the man by his shoulders
Bruce looked up at him, his eyes wild. “Threedays, Tony.”
“I know,” Tony nodded. “I know. It’ll be okay. Let’s go get some fresh air and track down a shirt.”
“Three days,” Bruce whimpered, letting Tony lead him out to the back alley.
Steve was staring down at the floor helplessly, his face pitiful. Peter moved around him to grab a mop and bucket from the cabinet. Darcy went in the front to track down a trash bag and some plastic gloves. Natasha helped them scoop up the ruined cake remains and scrub down the floor. Peter worked at the edge of the splash zone, wiping down the ovens and the counter. It only took about ten minutes to clean up, but Peter knew that it had taken them hours to bake the tiers, shape them perfectly, and frost them. He glanced at Steve worriedly. The man hadn’t moved a muscle in the time it had taken them to fix the mess. Peter wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t fallen asleep standing up. He was surprised when Steve suddenly turned on his heel and started gathering ingredients on the counter.
“Here, let me help,” Peter offered, moving toward the pantry.
“No, it’s okay. I’ve got it,” Steve sounded defeated.
Peter stepped in front of Steve, forcing the man to stop. “You taught me how to do this. I can take care of it. You need a nap. Go crash on the couch in Clint’s nest for a few hours. We can get the cake in the oven.”
Steve hesitated for a second before smiling sleepily. “Thank you, Peter.”
Peter watched Steve to make sure the man didn’t fall asleep halfway up the ladder.
He then turned to Darcy and Natasha and wiped his hands on the apron around his waist. “Ladies, let’s get to work.”
It only took them a few minutes to fall into a solid rhythm. Soon, they were cranking out cakes like a machine. Natasha had made the executive decision to close the bakery for the rest of the afternoon. The bakery was pretty well off anyway, but the extra revenue from the wedding order would more than make up for the missed hours. Tony passed through the kitchen only once, to deliver Bruce straight to the couch in his office. He poked his head in after an hour or so to tell them he’d called Thor and Loki in to help decorate, but other than that, he stayed with Clint, adding pearls to the tops of the cupcakes.
By the time Steve stumbled into the kitchen, the replacement tiers had been baked, cooled, stacked, and halfway through being frosted. Steve smiled proudly and left the three of them to finish up. Bruce emerged from Tony’s office looking much calmer and wearing one of Thor’s t-shirts. Clint’s balcony was full of cupcakes, and the sight of Thor and Loki dropping the pearls on the cupcakes with the mini tweezers was comical. It had taken nearly half an hour for Thor to arrange the decorations correctly, but once he got it, he worked faster than Tony and Loki combined. Clint kept an eye on them while he worked on the sugar flowers for the cake. When the cake was completely iced, Natasha and Peter carried it out to the front of the bakery carefully, placing it on the counter to decorate. Everyone moved down to the counter to help put the cake together. With the help of everyone in the bakery, they had the rest of the cupcakes and the entire cake decorated in a little over an hour.
Tony stepped back to survey their work. “Ladies and gentlemen, we deserve a fucking award.”
“I’d settle for some food,” Clint yawned.
Tony pulled out his cell phone and walked into his office, putting a call in to a pizzeria down the street. Half an hour later, the cakes were in the walk-in, the cupcakes were boxed up next to it, and the employees of the bakery were sprawled across the floor in a circle, half a dozen boxes of pizzas and a few six packs in the middle.
Darcy popped the cap off of a beer and nodded proudly. “We did damn good today.”
Steve nodded in agreement. “We couldn’t have pulled it off without you and Peter.”
“And you questioned my choice to bring them in,” Natasha clicked her tongue.
Peter took out his phone and nearly choked on his pizza. “Darcy?”
“What’s up, Parker?” Darcy bit into a slice of pepperoni.
“What the hell are you doing?” Peter held his phone out, showing the picture from the warehouse.
Clint leaned over her shoulder to see the screen and burst out laughing. “Darcy found the naughty cake aisle at the warehouse.”
Natasha smiled knowingly. “The silicone penis molds.”
“Yes!” Darcy slapped the floor with her free hand. “I’m telling you, we would get so many more orders if we had a giant sugar penis on display.”
Loki smirked. “I’m not entirely sure we want drunken college girls trying to break into the bakery at two in the morning trying to eat it.”
Darcy pointed at him. “Valid point. But I’m requesting now that my birthday cake have a sugar penis on it.”
“Noted,” Steve nodded.
“Uh, Darcy?” Peter pointed to his phone. “You’re forgetting something.”
Darcy looked at him blankly. “Wh- oh shit!” She shot to her feet, wiping her greasy hands on the butt of her jeans. “Shit, shit, shit. I’m late!”
Clint handed over her sweatshirt and she took it gratefully, pulling it on. “I’ll see you guys later!”
“Be home by eleven!” Peter called jokingly. “And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“No promises. Don’t wait up!” Darcy called over her shoulder, making a run for her car.
Steve smiled indulgently. “She’s a sweet girl. Whoever that boy is, he better take care of her.”
Tony pulled a face. “What do we actually know about this kid? Peter?”
“Not much. His name is Jack Hart or something like that. He’s an art student at the university. I met him once or twice. He’s all right, I guess,” Peter shrugged. “He can’t be that bad. This is the first semi-committed relationship Darcy has been in since I met her.”
“Well,” Tony reached for another beer. “A background check couldn’t hurt.”
“I’m on it,” Natasha assured him, snagging another piece of pizza.
The house was dark. The moon was a thin sliver in the sky, and the streetlights didn’t reach halfway up the drive, let alone the front porch. Darcy tried to move as quietly as she could, not wanting to wake anyone. She stumbled over a bush and caught herself before she face planted into the grass. She climbed the front steps slowly, being careful not to fall. She tried the front door. It was locked. Darcy didn’t feel like searching through her purse in the dark for the key, so she followed the porch around to the side door, which was usually unlocked. She tried the handle and pushed open the door. She stepped inside and shut the door gently. Two steps in, the room was flooded with light. Darcy flinched, her hands coming up to cover her eyes. After a moment, her eyes had adjusted enough to look up. Clint stood in the doorway, clad only in sleep pants, his hair tousled and his eyes heavy.
“Hi,” he grunted.
Darcy straightened up, trying to maintain her dignity. “Hello. Fancy meeting you here.”
Clint quirked an eyebrow. “You just getting in?”
“Maybe. Are you waking up for the day?” Darcy asked.
“Hell no. It’s two thirty,” Clint said.
Darcy glared at him. “Were you waiting up for me?”
“No,” Clint laughed. “My room is right above the front door. I heard someone stomping through the bushes and then trying to get in the front door. I figured it was either you or a ballsy thief, so I came down to check it out.”
“Oh. Well, thanks. I think,” Darcy dropped her purse on the counter next to Natasha’s and kicked off her shoes. “Oh, sweet baby Jesus.”
Clint was watching her curiously and Darcy couldn’t help but notice how attractive he made bedhead look. Clint yawned and stretched and it took everything in Darcy not to drool like an idiot.
She cleared her throat. “Well, I should go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Clint nodded and waited until she was out of the kitchen before shutting off the light. Darcy kept one hand on the wall to guide her up the stairs. She felt Clint’s presence behind her and had to remind herself to keep moving. She finally made it to her room and threw open the door, collapsing face first on her bed. She realized a second later that Clint stood in the doorway.
“Can I help you?” she whispered, rolling over.
She could just barely make out Clint’s grin in the dark. “Nope. Just admiring you grace.”
Darcy pulled the comforter up to her chin and wriggled out of her jeans, tossing them on the floor. “I was a ballerina in a past life.”
Clint laughed softly. “Good night, Darcy.”
“Good night,” she called softly as he shut her door soundlessly.
Darcy rolled onto her stomach and buried her head in the pillow, trying to block out the image of Clint standing in her bedroom without a shirt on. Jack, she scolded herself. Imagine Jack half naked. Yet, somehow, even with her very creative imagination, Jack couldn’t pull off the look half as well as Clint did.
“Fuck,” Darcy mumbled into her mattress.