“Damn! Shit shit shit damn it to hell!”

          Clint raised his eyes to the ceiling at the sound of Darcy’s voice, dropping his newspaper on the counter.

          “God damn it, Darcy, get your shit together-ow!” There was a loud crash from above. “So stupid…late for your own funeral…ouch! Little bastard. Where the hell are my keys…gonna kill Peter…button you whore!”

          She came thundering down the stairs and burst into the kitchen in a flurry of brown curls, her toothbrush sticking out of the corner of her mouth. The flannel button-up she’d thrown on over her tank top was inside out, her jeans weren’t zipped, and her socks were two different colors. She flew around the kitchen, oblivious to Clint’s presence. He watched her tug on her boots, stumbling to keep her balance. She grabbed a banana from the basket on the counter and pulled her coat off the hook.

          Clint cleared his throat. “Morning.”

          Darcy shrieked in surprise, throwing the banana at him. It him square in the chest and fell onto the newspaper. Darcy froze with her hand over her mouth.

          “Jesus! You scared the shit out of me,” Darcy snapped.

          He tossed the banana to her. “Sorry. Do you know your shirt’s inside out?”

          Darcy looked down. “Oh. Thanks.”

          Clint nodded and took a sip of his coffee as she fixed it.

          “So why exactly are we not at work?” Darcy asked, making a beeline for the coffee pot.

          “Not sure. Natasha never woke me up to go running this morning,” Clint lied smoothly. “I thought I was alone.”

          Darcy leaned across the breakfast bar. “You sit on a throne of lies.”

          “And you call your buttons whores,” Clint smirked.

          Her eyes narrowed. “That is something that does not leave this room. I shouted that because I thought I was alone.”

          Clint nodded seriously and stood to rinse his cup in the sink. “Let me know when you’re ready and we’ll go to work. No sense in taking both cars.”

          Darcy saluted and stole his seat. Clint left the room to get his boots. He passed a window and caught sight of the porch swing. The events of the night before flickered through his head. He peeked into the kitchen quietly. Darcy was staring into her coffee cup, her face a mixture of sadness and anger. She reached up to adjust her glasses and Clint noticed her hand.

          “Damn, you must’ve gotten him good!” he exclaimed, walking into the kitchen.

          Darcy looked up, startled. “Yeah, I guess.”

          “You should’ve iced it last night. It’ll bruise pretty badly,” Clint warned.

          Darcy shrugged. “I’ve done worse. Hard to believe, but that wasn’t the first time I had to rough up some jerk.”

          Clint leaned back against the sink. “Now I’m intrigued.”

          “When I was little, I had this friend. She was the sweetest girl I’ve ever met, but she got picked on a lot because she was tiny and she wouldn’t tell the teacher if someone was messing with her. One day, I got in trouble for mouthing off and they made me stay inside for recess. My friend came in after, crying her eyes out. Some jackass had pushed her off the monkey bars. I got pissed, and I challenged the kid to a wrestling match on the playground. We went all out. We had an announcer, and a bell-we even had stage names. It was great. I kicked his ass. To this day, people still talk about the legend that was the Darcy “The Dancer” Lewis and Tommy “Twinkle Toes” Newman grudge match.” She smiled fondly at the memory.

          She looked up and caught the soft, teasing look Clint was giving her. “What, you’ve never wrestled with a bully before?”

          “I’ve wrestled with more than my fair share of people,” Clint admitted. “But never under the pseudonym ‘The Dancer.’”

          “It was ballerina phase,” Darcy said defensively.

          Clint held his hands up. “I’m not gonna go there.”

          “Okay, now it’s your turn,” she challenged. “Share an episode of the Adventures of Baby Barton.”

          Clint’s smirk faltered for a second. “When I was about ten, my brother and I ran away to the circus. Hey! No interrupting!” he added, seeing her face. “Anyway, this guy sort of took me under his wing and started training me. His name was Trickshot, and after a couple of months with him, I could use a bow and arrow like I’d been trained since birth. One night, I was up in the rafters, watching the show and I noticed this kid throwing popcorn at a girl a few years younger than him. I got an idea, knight in shining armor that I was, about how to get back at him. I swiped one of the red clown noses from the costume trailer and a little paint from the supply truck. I made a kind of homemade paintball and replaced the tip of a rubber arrow with that. I went back up into the rafters and let it loose. Got the kid right between the eyes. I don’t know how she found out, but after the show the little girl came up and thanked me for pegging her brother.”

          Darcy waited to make sure he was done. “You were in the circus? As an archer?”

          “Marksman,” Clint corrected.

          Darcy gasped. “Show me.”

          Clint hesitated. “I don’t kn-”

          “Show me.”

          “Darce-”

          “Show me!”

          “Darcy-”

          “Please?”

          Damn her.

          “All right. I’ll take you with me the next time I go to the range,” Clint relented. “But right now, we need to get to work.”

          “So what are your plans for revenge?” Natasha asked when the two of them had snuck out for a cup of coffee and a chat.

          Darcy sighed. “I haven’t thought about revenge yet. I’m still in the silently angry bordering on depressed stage. Maybe I’ll superglue his car doors shut.”

          “Done it,” Natasha said. “It’s good for a laugh when you get to watch them discover it and break a window to get into their car. We can do better than that, though.”

          Darcy pictured Jack wriggling through the broken window of his car. It sounded pretty satisfying to her.

          “What do you suggest?” Darcy cocked her head to the side,

          The smile that slid across Natasha’s face gave Darcy chills. “Give me a day or two to call in some favors.”

          They stood and tossed their empty cups, then walked back towards the bakery, hunched against the cold wind. Across the street and a few shops down from the bakery, Natasha stopped midstride.

          “Oh dear god,” she groaned.

          “What’s the- who in the name of hot is that?” Darcy gasped.

          Natasha covered her face. “Bucky.”

          Darcy looked at her in awe. “No offense, but his name suggested someone who looked like a pudgy dork of a little brother.”

          “The jawline makes up for it,” Natasha admitted.

          “I can’t see his jawline from this angle, but he has the ass of Apollo,” Darcy slapped Natasha on the back. “Go forth and get some on behalf of the entire world.”

          “He isn’t supposed to come to the bakery. If anybody sees him and makes the connection, I will never hear the end of it. I’m going to kick his ass,” Natasha growled.

          “Wait here, in the bookstore,” Darcy instructed. “I’ll get him away from the bakery.”

          She turned to go but Natasha grabbed her wrist. “Tell him ‘pineapples’ and he’ll know it’s me.”

          Darcy nodded and crossed the slushy street. Bucky was faced away from her, leaning against the brick of the bakery’s storefront.

          “Hey. Tall, dark, and sexy,” she called. “Your girlfriend requests your presence in the bookstore. Oh. Pineapples.”

          Bucky grinned. “You must be Darcy.”

          “The one and only,” she winked. “But really, you should go before she comes up with a way to kill you from across the street.”

          Darcy watched him go, admiring the view, before ducking into the bakery. It was quiet and Clint was behind the counter, two things that usually only happened in an emergency situation.

          “Did someone die?” Darcy asked.

          He didn’t bother to look up from the cash drawer. “Ha. Funny. Tony kidnapped Peter for the afternoon, Thor and Loki are on a delivery, Steve ran to the warehouse, and Bruce is next door flirting with the florist.”

          “Betty? Wow. Go Bruce.” Darcy plopped down on a stool behind the counter. “Have we got another night of frosting till we drop?”

          “Negative. I’m declaring a movie night. Forrest Gump, tonight,” Clint announced. “Feel free to join in.”

          Darcy laughed. “Fun fact: that was my favorite movie of all time in high school.”

          Clint handed her a broken cookie. “I approve.”

          “Yes! Finally I can die happy! Do you hear that world? He approves!” Darcy threw her head back. “Thank the powers that be!”

          “Eat your cookie, smartass,” Clint chuckled.

          That evening, Peter was sitting on the couch in the living room reading, Wade sprawled across his lap, when the door burst open. He looked over at Darcy, who wore a pair of dark aviators, even though the sun had gone down at least an hour ago. She held a plastic grocery bag in one hand.

          “Lieutenant Dan!” she screamed, closing the door with her foot.

          Upstairs, Clint stopped his conversation with Natasha midsentence, breaking into a grin. He threw himself down the hall and leaned over the banister.

          “Ice cream!” he yelled.

          “Lieutenant Dan!” Darcy’s voice was thick with the accent.

          Clint copied it. “Ice cream!”

          Darcy ripped off her shades and held the bag above her head. “Lieutenant Dan, ice cream!”

          “Ice cream!” Clint shrieked.

          He then proceeded to throw one leg over the rail and slide down the banister, landing with a shocking amount of grace at the bottom. Darcy erupted into laughter.

          “Oh my god, you are such a child,” she gasped out, holding her sides.

          “Yes,” Clint agreed. “But it’s part of my masculine charm.”

          Darcy shook her head. “Lieutenant Dan, would you put this in the freezer?”

          Clint took the bag from her and walked into the kitchen, throwing a sloppy salute as he left. Darcy watched him walk away, grinning. She turned, pulling off her jacket and noticed Peter and Wade staring at her, Wade upside down.

          “What?” she felt her cheeks heating up.

          “Did you just-” Peter stuttered.

          Wade blinked. “Every time I watch that movie now, I will have the image of Clint sliding down the banister stuck in my head. You two are the reason I start laughing at the serious parts of movies, I swear to god.”

          “Eh, you know you love me,” Darcy teased.

          She hurried up the stairs, her shoes in her hands.

          Wade shifted to look at Peter. “I ship it.”

          Peter laughed and returned to his book.