Chapter Seventeen
“Good morning, birthday girl!” Peter sang, walking into the bakery, one hand behind his back.
Darcy looked up from the cupcake she was icing and smiled. “Thanks, Peter. What have you got there?”
“Oh,” he shrugged, “Nothing that would really interest you. Just a present.”
“A present?” Darcy set aside the piping bag. “Lay it on me.”
Peter dropped a purple bag on the counter and turned to hang his coat up. He heard the bag crinkle as Darcy ripped it open. Before he could turn back around, Darcy had tackled him into a hug.
“You are my favorite kind of person, Peter Parker!” she shouted gleefully.
Tony sauntered into the room, his first of many coffees clutched in his hands. “Why are we excitedly yelling?”
“Because Peter is the greatest. He got me a new copy of The Breakfast Club,” Darcy exclaimed happily. “The last copy got a little banged up after drunk Peter tried to use is as a plate for his pizza.”
Peter flushed. “Are we still telling that story?”
“Of course we are. It’s hilarious,” Darcy smirked.
Tony, not to be outdone, held out a bag with a flourish of his hand. “My gift to you.”
Darcy reached inside and pulled out a flashy, custom-made birthday crown. “Holy shit. Thanks, Tony.”
“Put it on,” he told her.
She settled it carefully on her head and struck a pose. Peter and Tony clapped obligingly. Tony rummaged in the bag and pulled out a sash.
Darcy slipped it on and looked down. “‘It’s my birthday, bitch.’ I like it.”
“Thought you might,” Tony winked.
The front door of the bakery opened, Clint and Natasha struggling against the wind to get inside.
“Jesus, it’s windy,” Clint muttered. “Have you guys seen the amount of snow coming down out there?”
Natasha brushed a few flakes from her hair. “I lived in Russia for most of my life, and I think the snow’s ridiculous.”
Clint chuckled and moved to hang up his coat next to Peter’s. He made a point of reaching around Darcy so that their faces were only a few inches apart.
“Happy birthday, Darce,” he said with a smile.
She struggled to keep herself from blushing. They hadn’t told anyone about what had happened on their walk home the week before. They were constantly sneaking off for time alone, but neither of them was exactly comfortable with broadcasting their budding relationship to the entirety of the bakery. Natasha, sneaky woman that she was, had already figured it out. Peter and Wade had seen them sneaking out together a couple of nights before and put two and two together. No one said anything, mostly because they knew it wasn’t their place to spread the news. However, it was beginning to be a bit tedious not to act like a couple around everyone else.
Clint cocked his head toward the door. “A year of happiness and good fortune.”
She grinned. “I guess so. Not to mention a sash and a crown.”
Clint looked down at her sash. “I like it.”
Steve bustled in from the kitchen, his hands apron already coated with a light dusting of flour. “Loki just called from the truck. The radio is predicting a blizzard tonight.”
“Bring it! It’s my birthday. I can handle anything,” Darcy announced.
A few hours later, Clint was given command of the interns and he set them to work in the decorating balcony. Darcy was assigned the task of making the sugar lilies for a wedding order, while Peter was put in charge of cutting out a few hundred leaves from sheets of green fondant. Clint was piping lace around the edges of the tiers. The work was tedious and made his eyes hurt afterwards, but piping lace was one of his favorite things. It helped him keep his steady hand, and he liked that he was capable of making something so beautiful. When he was working on the lace, he could block out almost anything. He couldn’t hear Natasha thanking the customers who braved the snow for a sugar fix. He couldn’t hear Tony and Steve’s flirtatious banter. He couldn’t hear Darcy and Peter chattering about some movie they’d seen last weekend. He couldn’t even hear the radio, though it was only a couple feet from him.
So it took a few calls of his name for Darcy to get his attention. “CLINT!”
He flinched, though he managed to pull the piping bag away so he didn’t run the tip through the finished lace. “Shit, you scared me. What is it?”
Darcy pointed at the radio. “They just declared a blizzard warning for the entire city. We’re snowed it until at least tomorrow morning.”
Clint dropped the icing on the table and moved to the glass doors of the balcony. He pushed aside the curtains and stared out at the blank sheet of white that was the outside world. He heard Darcy call down to Natasha. She swore and her footsteps clicked across the floor as she hurried to the front window.
Clint turned to look at Darcy. “I think this means you win the lottery this year.”
“Peter!” Tony called from downstairs. “I need your brain for a minute!”
Peter brushed his green-tinged hands on his apron and scurried down the ladder.
Clint took advantage of the moment.“Hey, while we’re alone, do you want to open your birthday present?”
“Hell yes, I do,” Darcy responded, straddling her stool.
Clint reached behind his desk and produced a plain brown bag with her name scrawled across the front in blocky black marker. He set it in front of her, pushing aside the drying lilies. Darcy opened the bag and reached inside, her hands brushing what felt like tulle. She carefully took the object out of the bag and her jaw dropped. It was a little wooden jewelry box, with a ballerina in a bright pink tutu on the top. Under the ballerina’s feet, written in delicate cursive, he’d had ‘Dancer’ engraved. Darcy choked out a laugh and opened the box. The theme from Swan Lake began to play and Darcy broke into an all out grin. She carefully set the box down before throwing herself onto Clint’s lap, hugging him tightly.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She crowed. “I love it!”
Clint chuckled. “I can tell. I think this is the most enthusiasm I’ve ever seen you show.”
Darcy planted a thankful kiss on his lips. “Well, I love it.”
Clint smiled, but it turned sad.
“What’s up?” Darcy asked, nudging him with the knee pressed against his right knee.
“Darce,” he sighed. “Do you remember last week, when I got that call that I told you about? I’m not saying anything will come of it, but if it does, don’t worry about me. I’ll be okay and I promise I’ll be here for you. Okay?”
Darcy’s hands tightened on his shoulders. “You’re scaring me. What’s going on?”
Clint shook his head. “That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Nothing’s going on, and I promise I’ll take care of you.”
Darcy’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand-”
At the sound of footsteps on the ladder, they sprang apart. Darcy ducked her head and picked up a half-finished lily. Clint watched her for a minute, knowing he’d upset her. He contemplated telling her everything, so she would be prepared, but he knew he couldn’t risk her safety. She’d be fine, he told himself, picking up the pastry bag again.
“Happy Birthday to you...”
Darcy giggled as everyone sang to her. Steve had insisted she cover her eyes before they brought out the cake, so she wriggled impatiently in her seat as the song dragged on. Tony, little shit, that he was, held the last note for as long as he could manage. Steve gave her permission to look and she dropped her hands into her lap.
“Oh my god, you didn’t!” she cackled.
Natasha grinned. “We did.”
Darcy clutched her sides, glad she was already on the floor. “I can’t breathe!”
In the middle of the circle sat Darcy’s glorious birthday cake. It was two round layers, with lilac colored buttercream. Her name was written in gorgeous piping, thanks to Clint. Everyone had written a little birthday message in icing on the cake.
To many more birthdays.- Loki
Happy wishes, Lady Darcy!- Thor
Happy birthday to my drinking buddy, best friend, and roommate. You’re the greatest. -Peter
It’s your birthday, bitch!- Tony
Happy birthday to a beautiful, wonderful, intelligent young lady. We love you, Darcy!- Steve
Happy Birthday, Darcy! I’d be lost without you.- Bruce
С Днем Рождения миленькие.- Natasha
Here’s to another year of mayhem. Good luck, Dancer.-Clint
But the most glorious, beautiful, utterly fucking hilarious part of the entire cake was the bright pink sugar penis mounted on the top tier. At the last minute, Tony had decided it need a matching crown, so he made one out of paper and a little of Clint’s edible glitter. Of all the things he had ever created, this was what he was proudest of.
Darcy finally regained her composure and wiped at her eyes. “Thank you. It’s beautiful. A work of art, really. I’m not sure if I could ruin this masterpiece by eating it.”
“It’s double-fudge,” Steve said.
“And that’s why we have cameras. Slice it up, baby!” Darcy slapped her hands together.
Unsurprisingly, within the next hour, they demolished the cake, save for the penis. Natasha put it in a plastic bag and stuck it in the refrigerator per Darcy’s request. Tony had produced a couple of six packs from his office, to the surprise of no one, and they all sprawled across the floor in a sloppy circle, drinking and telling stories. It was well after midnight when Tony shuffled to his feet and clapped his hands together excitedly.
“Since Peter and I are awesome and because I’m also forgetful, you all have beds tonight,” he announced proudly. “Well, technically they’re hammocks, but that doesn’t matter.”
“How in the hell did you manage to McGyver up hammocks?” Clint asked skeptically.
“I forgot to take one of the boxes of sheets out of the trunk of the car when we moved. I stowed them in my office when I had to make a delivery and needed the space, and I forgot they were in there. Anyway, I mapped it out, and we can fit one hammock upstairs, plus the couch. Steve and I can share the foldout in my office, and we can easily hang five hammocks out here,” Tony explained.
Darcy’s hand shot up. “I call a hammock in the balcony. The doors offer the best view of the snowy depths of hell outside.”
“That’s pleasant,” Bruce mumbled, amused.
“I’m claiming my couch,” Clint said, swallowing the last of his beer.
No one protested Tony’s plan, so he pulled out the box of sheets and showed them all how to tie the ends and how to hang them. With a little help from Thor, Steve, and Loki, all the hammocks downstairs were set up. Darcy gathered up her hammock supplies and climbed up the ladder, waving off the offers of assistance.
“No way. This is the coolest thing I’ve ever done, and I’m doing it by myself,” she insisted.
A final round of ‘happy birthday’s went up, followed by a round of ‘good night’s. Clint joined Darcy on the balcony, watching her tug on the knots in the sheets to make sure they were secure before climbing in. She tucked her arms under her head and looked over at him.
“Jealous of my hammock making skills?” she asked, wiggling her eyebrows.
He laughed. “Very.”
She smiled and settled into her cocoon of sheets. “Thanks again for my present. I love it.”
“As much as the sugar penis?” Clint raised an eyebrow.
She thought about for a second. “It’s a tie.”
Clint shook his head and flipped off the light. He waited a moment to let his eyes adjust before he made his way across the room. He leaned over the edge of the hammock, his lips brushing softly against Darcy’s forehead.
“Happy birthday, Darcy,” he murmured.
She smiled softly, her eyes drifting closed. Blizzard or not, this was easily her best birthday ever.
The morning dawned bright and cold, but the snow had stopped falling. By some miracle, it appeared that the majority of the snow hadn’t stuck to the ground. There was quite a bit on the ground, but nothing unheard of, and nothing that kept the cars off the road. Darcy, woken by the blinding sunlight shining through the glass doors of the balcony, stumbled out of the hammock, her hair a holy mess. She rubbed her hand over her face and peered around, trying to get a sense of what was going on.
Downstairs, she could hear the low murmur of early morning chatter. She could smell coffee brewing in the bakery kitchen, and she was pretty sure she smelled bacon, too. She pulled her hair into a ponytail and looked around the balcony. The couch looked rumped, but it was empty, the sheet Clint had used thrown aside. Darcy climbed down the ladder, letting her nose lead her toward the coffee. The hammocks downstairs had already been taken down, the sheets folded and tucked back into the box. The kitchen door had been propped open and Darcy could see everyone gathered around one of the prep tables.
She stepped into the kitchen and spotted a fresh pot of coffee. She decided she needed coffee more than she needed to say good morning. After sucking down half a mug of coffee, Darcy made her way over to the table and bumped her hip against Natasha. When the bump wasn’t reciprocated, she looked up, thinking she’d bumped Steve on accident. And that’s when she realized that everyone looked very, very worried. The kitchen was quiet as they all turned toward Darcy. Natasha and Tony exchanged a look. Peter moved from his spot beside Bruce, instead hovering next to Darcy nervously.
Her brow furrowed. “What’s going on?”
Natasha hesitated before answering. “Darcy...Clint’s gone.”
Darcy stared at her in confusion. “Guys, he always goes off on his little adventures. He probably went to play in the snow or get a pizza or something. He’ll be back soon.”
“No, Darcy,” Natasha swallowed hard. “The police called a little while ago. They found his body. He’s gone, Darcy. Clint’s dead.”
Darcy’s hand went slack, the mug slipping out of her grasp and falling to the floor. The hot coffee washed over her bare feet as the mug shattered, but Darcy didn’t feel it. She stared numbly at Natasha, her brain working to put together the facts. People looking sad, Clint not being there, Natasha’s voice, coffee. Darcy’s head swirled. Peter put a hand on her shoulder and Darcy jerked away.
“No,” she hissed. “No. You’re wrong.”
Tony stepped toward her. “Darcy-”
“No!” she screamed. “He’s not! You’re wrong! No!”
She stumbled backward, turning to flee into the front room. She scrambled up the ladder and snatched her phone out of her purse, dialing as fast as she could. The phone rang. And rang. And rang. And went to voicemail. Darcy hung it up and hurled at the wall. It broke apart, the screen cracking and the back of the case popping off. She whirled around, looking for something else to throw. Her eyes settled on the jewelry box and she froze for a moment. She reached out and picked it up, cradling it gently in her hands. She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up at Steve, his eyes filled with sympathy. She realized that she’d started crying, but she didn’t bother to wipe away the tears. There were plenty more coming.
She let out a shaky breath and set the box on the table, flipping open the lid. “He said he’d be here for me. He promised, Steve.”
Steve pulled her into a hug, his arms wrapping tightly around her. She crumpled in his embrace, clinging onto him gratefully. She cried into his chest, her whole body shaking with sobs. Steve never had to see Darcy and Clint sneak away during the slow parts of the day at work, never needed to glimpse a stolen kiss in the hallway. He’d seen the way Clint looked at her the first day, and he knew they would end up together. He knew how they felt about each other now, and it broke his heart to see them ripped apart like this. So he held onto Darcy tightly and let her cry all her tears, because he knew there was nothing any of them could say or do that would make this okay.
“Is she okay?”
Natasha sighed into the phone, remembering the look on Darcy’s face earlier that day. “No. She isn’t. She won’t talk, she won’t eat. She won’t let Steve get more than few yards away from her, which he doesn’t seem to mind. Peter’s a wreck, between both situations. Everyone else feels guilty for not being able to talk about what’s really happening. It’s hard. We’ll manage, though.”
“I wouldn’t ask this unless I knew it had to be done.”
“I know that. It doesn’t make watching this any easier,” Natasha grumbled.
The voice on the other end sighed. “I have to go. I’ll call when I can, I promise.”
“Okay,” Natasha said softly. “Be careful out there.”
She could hear the smile in his voice. “I always am. Take care of everybody for me. I’ll be home as soon as possible.”
“Clint?” Natasha interrupted. “Come home. If for no one else, do it for her. Come home for Darcy.”
“I will,” Clint promised, meaning it wholeheartedly.