Must Include Cowboy Boots - PG - Darcy/Logan
Her boot heels clicked against the wood of the bar’s floor as Darcy made her way through the crowd. She would definitely have preferred to be in her favorite worn Doc Martens, but… when in Rome and all that. The pair she’d found for this little adventure did at least have a bit of her own personal style. The leather was a rich chocolate brown with details in deep purple and a brilliant turquoise. They even had a few flashy rhinestones embedded in the design and pretty tassels that dangled just over her ankles. Of course, that still didn’t make up for the fact that she was wearing cowboy boots and a poofy crinoline skirt in a bar that played nothing but Alan Jackson songs and had a steer’s head on the wall.
She was going to kill Steve Rogers for talking her into this.
“Howlett’s always had a soft spot for a pretty dame in a cute pair of boots,” he’d insisted, batting those All-American baby blues in just the right way to make any woman who’d ever vaguely considered liking the dick to do exactly what he wanted. Patron of truth and justice he may be, but anyone who’d spent more than a passing amount of time with Steve knew that he was just as much of a charismatic manipulator when he needed to be. Stupid Captain Americ-ass with his stupid freedom booty and promises to help lug equipment for every foreseeable Sciece! adventure the future might have to offer.
Steve was convinced that his old army buddy was going to be an asset in the fights to come, but with the whole fugitive thing he obviously couldn’t go make a show in public to recruit the man himself. So, she’d agreed to bite the bullet, release the old Texas accent she’d been trying to shuck for the majority of her life, and go fetch the Wolverine from his latest smoke-filled dive. She was, at least, getting the perk of a decent hotel room and a wallet stuffed with cash to get her through the process of convincing a new soldier to join the ranks.
Darcy spotted James “Logan” Howlett on the far end of the bar surrounded by a cloud of cigar smoke. His eyes were fixed on the game showing over the bar, but she saw the moment his nostrils flared and he caught a whiff of her perfume. Steve told her to avoid strong scents. She’d ignored that completely to give herself a liberal spritzing of her favorite offering from Bath & Body. It was a risky move since he might hate the smell and tell her to fuck off on principal, but at least she’d caught his attention.
“Did Rogers suggest the boots?” His question froze her in place when she was still a few steps away. He hadn’t even turned from the television screen. “Dumb kid always was naive enough to believe it was a lady’s shoes I was interested in.”
Sighing in annoyance, Darcy hopped up on the stool beside him and flagged down the bartender. “Hi, yeah, give me bourbon. Double. Neat. Not the cheap shit.” The bartender didn’t bat an eye, which was a nice change since most bartenders seemed to think girls and whiskey didn’t mix. “I don’t know who I’m more mad at,” she admitted once she had her drink. “Steve for talking me into this getup or you for not appreciating it.”
“Oh, make no mistake, darlin’,” he assured her, finally turning away from the game to flash her a cocky grin. “I’m appreciating it plenty.” His eyes trailed from the top of her head all the way down to her toes and back up before they settled on her face. “Maybe the kid was paying more attention than I thought.”
A thrilling buzz chased its way up her spine as he looked her over again, and she was suddenly very grateful for the king sized bed back in her hotel room. The tugged the wallet full of bills out of her bra and gave it a teasing wave in front of his face. “Well, then. Want to see how much of Steve’s money we can spend and what kind of trouble we can get into?”