Chapter 5
Erik Selvig gambols around Jane and Darcy's modestly sized kitchen wearing nothing but a cotton t-shirt and a pair of black and white Calvin Kleins. He bares his pasty legs without a trace of shame, muttering nonsense under his breath as he gathers together a medley of ingredients needed for an authentic Danish brew.
Brock takes hesitant bites of his crepe between glances at the slightly deranged man. He wraps his arm around Darcy's waist and pulls her chair flush against his. "Is he okay?" He whispers into her ear dubiously.
Darcy nods. "Yeah, he's fine. This is normal." She says lowly.
Jane nods solemnly. "Very normal. Since New York, anyway."
Darcy picks up her fork. "Where are his pants?"
"They're in the machine," Jane divulges. "Apparently, they smelt like an aeroplane. Whatever that means. He took them off on the doorstep. I couldn't convince him to put them back on."
"Of course," Darcy sighs. "No surprise there." She looks at Brock. "Did you ever see the news story about the naked scientist being arrested for streaking nude across Stonehenge?"
Brock nods slowly.
Darcy points at Erik with her manicured index finger. This week, her nails are hotrod red. "That's him."
Brock looks between Darcy and the half-dressed man, blinking rapidly. "Oh."
"Yeah." Jane sighs. "Loki really messed him up. Poor guy."
"He was institutionalised for a while," Darcy tells him. "Ian and I had to break him out when the whole, you know, Dark Elves attacking London thing happened."
"Right," Brock says.
"He's getting better," Jane informs, defensively. "He just- struggles with certain things."
"Like wearing pants," Brock notes.
"Exactly," Jane says.
Brock pulls Darcy a little closer as he takes a bite from his crepe.
"Anyone want tea?" Erik asks, needlessly loud.
Darcy winces. Brock sits up a little straighter.
"No," Jane says, on behalf of them all. "Come and sit down. You need to meet Brock."
Erik shouts in amusement. "Ha! Who in their right mind would name their child Brock?"
"Erik." Darcy lectures. "Please don't be rude. Just come and sit down. You haven't eaten yet."
Without kicking up a fuss, Erik complies. Once seated, he studies Brock through narrowed his eyes. "Who are you?"
"He's Brock," Darcy tells him.
"I'm Brock," Brock affirms.
"He's Brock?" Erik asks Jane.
"Yeah." Jane nods. "He's Brock."
"Ah." Eric looks back Brock. "So, you're the one who got my Darcy-girl pregnant." He says bluntly.
Darcy splutters, choking on her sip of orange juice.
Brock nods once, stern-faced. "Yes, sir."
"Well," Erik studies him. "At least you're handsome. Her last boyfriend looked like a weasel. Sounded like one too."
"Oh my god." Darcy wheezes. "Oh my god."
Exasperated, Jane closes her eyes and massages her temples.
Brock smirks, puffing out his chest. "Did he?"
"Sure, sure." Erik waves his hand around wildly, apparently unaware of the mug of tea he's holding. The liquid splashes onto the floor. "Do you have a job, young man?"
"Yes, sir. I work for Shield. I'm a Strike Commander." Brock says.
"Ha!" Erik yells angrily. "Shield!"
Brock narrows his eyes.
Darcy pats his thigh. "Don't worry. It's not personal. He just really doesn't like Shield."
Jane nods. "Yeah. They won't let him work in their labs unless he wears pants. He hates that."
Brock frowns. "Oh. Right."
"Yeah," Darcy says. "And they didn't give him severance pay after New York. He was angry about that too."
"Jack-booted-thugs, the lot of them." Erik declares. "And now you're having a baby with one. You're having a jack-booted baby. Ha!"
"Erik," Jane warns.
"I am not having a jack-booted baby!" Darcy argues. She looks at Brock. "No offence."
"None taken, sweetheart," Brock says.
"Sweetheart!" Erik echoes loudly with mirth. "This just keeps getting better and better." He looks at Brock. "Have you met her father yet?"
Brock goes stiff. "I thought you were her father."
Darcy's eyes grow wide.
"I'm not." Erik chortles.
Darcy looks at Brock. "Erik's not my dad. He's, uh, Jane's dad's ex-colleague. It's complicated."
"Right." Brock sighs, rubbing his eyes tiredly.
"My dad's not Danish. He's Italian." Darcy says. "I told you that."
"Right," Brock repeats, looking slightly frazzled.
"I'm having dinner with him on Tuesday," Darcy tells Erik. "Brock hasn't met him yet."
"Ah," Erik says deliberately, with a contentious wink.
"I don't even know his name," Brock reveals.
"Antonio," Erik replies.
Darcy clears her throat, sounding slightly strangled. "Um, I don't know your ma's name." She says to Brock, effectively cutting Erik off.
"Giana," Brock tells her.
"Italian! Yes?" Erik checks.
Brock nods. "Yes."
"Good. Her father will be pleased." Erik nods his approval. Then he loudly slurps from the liquid that's somehow left in his cup.
"My grandfather will be rolling in his grave," Darcy says with a slight smile.
"Good riddance," Erik says. Jane nods and waves her fork around in agreement. "Her grandfather was a cruel man," Erik tells Brock. "Lucky he died before our Darcy was born, really. Darcy grew up speaking Italian. He would've shunned that."
"Italian was your first language?" Brock asks, slightly impressed.
"Eh. Technically." Darcy shrugs. "My first word was pane."
Brock smirks. "Your first word was bread?"
"I've always been a sucker for breadsticks," Darcy grins, cheeks glowing slightly.
"Cute," Brock mutters, making her cheeks glow even brighter. He squeezes her hip. "Your grandpa not like the language of something?" He asks.
"Or something." Darcy sighs. "He was American, a propagated patriot and my nonna was as Italian as they come. Lots of dark hair and enough recipe books to fill five suitcases. He loved her, but hated where she came from." Darcy frowns. Brock runs his thumb up and down her hip tenderly. "She died before I was born, but she was the main character in most of my bedtime stories." She manages a soft smile. "She was a good person. Beautiful. Patient."
"She'd have to be with your father as a son!" Erik booms, effectively breaking the tender moment.
Jane snorts. "Amen."
Darcy laughs.
Brock clears his plate and puts down his cutlery.
"I'm going to spend the day researching prenatal studies," Jane announces, pushing away her plate.
"Cool," Darcy grins around a mouthful of cold crepe. "Thanks, Janey. You're the best."
"Well, it's my job as future godmother to make sure you're taken care of, and effectively educated," Jane says primly.
Darcy beams.
Brock clears his throat awkwardly, pulling the attention back to him. "Actually, isn't that supposed to be my job? I am the father."
"The father." Darcy imitates. "Okay, Darth Vader."
Brock rolls his eyes and pinches her hip, making her yelp and squirm away.
Unamused, Jane scowls. "Are you the one who's about to spend the next twelve hours studying various medical journals? Hm? Are you the one who's going to be attempting to invent a cure for morning sickness?"
Brock blanches. "No."
"Then don't test me." She warns. "I'm your future child's godmother. Get over it."
Brock looks at Darcy. "You decided on godparents already?"
Darcy blinks. "Um, well, not officially." She says. "But Jane's my bestie and I kind of really want her to be the godmother."
Brock smiles at her assuringly. "That's fine with me, baby." He says. "You choose a godfather yet?"
Darcy shakes her head slowly. "No."
"Okay." He says and then kisses the side of her head, just above her ear.
"Erik, do you have any plans for the day?" Jane asks as she starts collecting the used dishes.
"Nothing beyond spending some time with my girls." He says.
Jane purses her lips. "Well, if Darcy doesn't mind, I'd appreciate your help in the lab."
Erik looks at Darcy.
"Of course I don't mind," Darcy says. "I'm just glad you came to visit. I missed you."
"Oh, Darcy-girl. I missed you too." Erik says. He reaches over to pat her hand before turning his attention back to Jane. "Yes, Janey, I'll join you in the lab. I might have some useful insight."
"You'll have to wear pants." She warns, stacking the plates on her left hand.
"Fandeme." He curses in Danish.
Jane pats his shoulder with a sympathetic smile.
"How long are you staying?" Darcy asks.
"I have to head home tomorrow. I have a lecture to lead on Tuesday." Erik says.
Darcy looks at him sadly. "Oh. You really have to leave so soon?"
He might be a bit of a pest, but he's Darcy's Uncle as much as Rhodey is.
"I'm afraid so, Darcy-girl." He says.
"Oh." Darcy pouts.
"I'll visit again soon." He assures, around a mouthful of crepe. "I swear on Thor."
Darcy smiles.
Brock leans back in his chair. "Jane, do you need Darcy for anything today?"
Jane looks at him sceptically before shaking her head. "No. Why?"
"I'm taking her out." He says.
Darcy blinks in surprise. "You are?"
"Yeah, baby." He nods. "We can go somewhere nice and take a walk. Stop for lunch somewhere fancy. Whatever you want." He says.
Darcy smiles. "That sounds nice."
"Yeah?" Brock checks. Darcy nods. "You want to take a shower before we go?"
"Yeah, that's probably a good idea," Darcy says. She's still wearing her pukey pyjamas.
He unwraps his arm from around her waist. "You should wear that cute yellow sundress. The one with the cherry print. It's warm out today."
Darcy blinks. "You- When did you see my cherry dress?" She knows for sure that she's never worn it to any of their, um, meetings.
"You wore it to work a few weeks ago." He says. She goes quiet. He raises his eyebrows. "You okay, baby?"
She stares at him. "You pay attention to what I wear at work?" She whispers.
He frowns and pushes a piece of hair out of her eyes. "Yeah. Of course, I do. You're my sunshine, remember? I'm always on the lookout for you."
"Oh." She feels her cheeks redden. "That's nice."
Brock grins. "Yeah?"
"Yeah." She says.
Jane clears her throat, jolting Darcy and Brock out of their bubble.
Darcy stands up abruptly, cheeks flushed. She avoids Jane's knowing stare and Erik's hyper-amused grin. "Um, I'll go and get ready. Give me thirty minutes."
As she's leaving, she hears Brock stand up and say, "I'll wash the dishes, Jane."
She smiles.
---
Brock takes her to Bryant Park.
Walking through the trees with their hands entwined, Darcy breathes easy.
"This is so nice." She says, eyes wide as she takes in the beauty of her surroundings. "I really should get out more. I spend so much time indoors."
"Fresh air is good. Healthy." Brock remarks, squeezing her hand. "You should get more of it."
"I know. I do my best, but it's just hard to find the time." Darcy says. "Jane keeps me busy. And when I'm not with her, I'm either doing paperwork for Coulson or convening with Asgard. It's a lot."
"Sounds stressful," Brock says. He guides them toward another path, one that's not so occupied by people riding bicycles. "I never knew you had so much responsibility."
"Yeah. Most people assume that I'm just Jane's ditsy assistant or something." Darcy shrugs. Brock frowns. She bumps her hip against his. "Don't brood. It's fine. I mean, it did bother me for a while, but I got over it."
"I never thought you were a "ditsy assistant"." He scowls. "I knew you were something special from the moment I laid eyes on you." He says, letting go of her hand to wrap his arm around her waist, hugging her close. "You remember the day we met, right?"
Darcy sniffs. "Yeah. I remember."
Brock smirks. "You hated me for months afterwards."
"I never hated you." Darcy protests. "I just- didn't particularly like you."
"Sure." Brock draws out sarcastically. "That's why you printed out those fake medical papers and told the entire Strike team that I'd tested positive for herpes."
"Oh, come on. You totally deserved that."
Brock raises his eyebrows, still smirking. "Oh yeah?"
"Yes!" Darcy insists. "You asked me if my tits were real. In front of a lab full of interns, may I add? You completely humiliated me."
"In my defence, I did tell you that your hair was pretty first."
Darcy rolls her eyes. "Oh, sure. Well then, all is forgiven." She says sarcastically. "You know what? Maybe I did hate you. You were such an asshole."
Brock chuckles. "I was, huh?"
"Such an asshole," Darcy affirms with a small grin.
He smirks and tugs her closer, leaning in and lowering his voice. "You gotta admit, the hate sex was incredible."
Darcy hums her agreement. "The closet."
"Fury's office."
"The locker rooms," Darcy says.
"Jane's lab," Brock adds.
"Oh, yeah." Darcy exhales slowly, the memory of the day cushioning all of her thoughts. "We can never let her find out about that."
"Never." Brock agrees. "Did she ever ask about the broken spectrometer?"
Darcy bounces her head. "She did. I blamed it on one of the interns."
"Did the kid get fired?"
"Yeah. He was an asshole, though. Spent more time trying to convince me to go on a date with him than doing actual work." Darcy says. "Jane hated him."
"Good riddance, then." Brock states. "You get any more trouble like that, you call me, okay? You're my girl now." He says firmly. "In fact, you should always call me. About everything. If someone says something stupid, you call me. If someone looks at you the wrong way-"
"Brock." Darcy interrupts his spiel with a soft laugh. “I can look after myself."
"That's the thing. You don't have to anymore, baby." Brock pulls them to a halt under a tree just a few feet off of the path. "You're the mother of my children. It's my job to keep you safe."
Darcy squints. "You keep saying that."
"Keep saying what?" Brock asks.
"That I'm the mother of your children. Children; plural." Darcy says.
Brock rests both of his hands on her hips and stares down at her. "You got a problem with me wanting to have babies with you? Because I hate to be the one to tell ya, but it's a bit late for that, sweetheart."
He presses his lips against hers and she melts. In that kiss was the sweetness of passion, a million loving thoughts condensed into a moment.
Against his lips, Darcy quietly asks, "you really want me to be the mother of your children?"
Brock rests his forehead against hers, opening his eyes to stare into hers. "I do."
Butterflies in her stomach, Darcy's cheeks flush. "Awesome."
Brock kisses her nose.
"You want lunch, baby?"
"I want lemon parfait."
"Then let's go and find my girl some lemon parfait."
Darcy grins.