Chapter 1
Darcy had never been one to be bound by fictitious standards of appropriate time designations for consumption when it came to food. Plus she worked for Jane and that meant her body schedule was more than a little out of whack (basically, time had ceased to have meaning at all).
So she when she walked into the kitchen at 2:43 in the afternoon on Wednesday she expected it to be empty.
She turned the corner and- there she was.
The Black Widow.
The tiny, deadly, beautiful Black Widow was seated at the large island with a mug and a book in what appeared to be Russian. The woman's dark magnetic eyes flickered to her then back to her book. Darcy consciously maintained trajectory and headed for the fridge. She opened the door and stared in. Bottles of condiments. She blinked.
And she had completely forgotten what she had come in here for.
Darcy closed the fridge and went for the cabinet. Inside were green ceramic plates.
Dammit.
This wasn't the kitchen she normally used but Jane had dragged half of their new lab supplies to a different side of the building last night and this one was now closer than the old kitchen.
Darcy tried another cabinet further down but this one was full of serving plates and mixing bowls. Where the hell was the food in this damn kitchen? Closing the cabinet, she sighed and turned to beg for help. Not at all the cool introduction she had been hoping to make but what could you do?
When she turned back around the room was empty though. An empty mug in the sink and the Black Widow gone.
'Okay', Darcy thought, 'that was cool.'
-….-….-…-
Surviving an encounter with the black widow felt pretty amazing despite Darcy's poor showing. She hadn't even introduced herself! God damn idiot she was sometimes. Her brain was still generating nature documentary parodies about the encounter the next day when she called the elevator she needed to reach Jane's lab. She absentmindedly adjusted the beanie on her head, tucking in a few stay hairs. She clicked the down button again.
At last the doors opened and she ambled in and swiped her ID card to choose her floor. As the doors began to slide closed a man with short blonde hair and huge arms pelted toward the opening, just managing to sneak in before they shut entirely.
She glanced sideways at him as he swiped his card and selected a floor several down from the labs. She knew that face from somewhere.
He was so familiar.
Blond hair and blue eyed but he was definitely shorter then Captain America. As they began to move down, she licked her lips, casting her mind about. Hawkeye, she realized sharply, going through a mental list of Avengers. She was standing in an elevator with secret agent superhero expert marksman Hawkeye. Holy shit. Her fingers fiddled excitedly with her ID. She shouldn't even be freaking out really because this crazy awesome fucking bizarre, slightly terrifying type of thing was exactly the sort of thing that had become the new standard in her life really.
She glanced at him.
Oh.
Darcy glanced sideways at him again.
Oh man.
She glanced at his arms and he shifted, casually crossing them over his chest.
'Dammit, woman up Lewis.'
"Dude," she said turning to face the former assassin.
He was smirking slightly at her, leaning back on the side of the elevator. "Yeah- I'm Hawkeye." He told her with a cocky grin.
"No dude. I know that. It's just…" Her eyes fell to his incredibly muscular biceps. "You've got like black grease or something all over the back of your arm."
He blinked at her, following her line of sight as he twisted his arm around. "Wha-, oh. Shit."
He seemed to forget about her for the moment as he scrubbed a little helplessly at his forearm. The doors dinged open to the lab floor and Darcy ducked out. The crazy assassin dude paid her no mind, muttering about vents and Tony Stark.
"It was nice to meet you hawk-guy!"
"Its Hawkeye!" he yelled as the doors closed.
-….-….-…-
Two weeks later at 1:45 a.m. Darcy needed lunch. Darcy had pretty much surrendered to the idea that working for Jane basically meant becoming nocturnal for monthly periods. Especially when Jane went on of one of her science binges, it became impossible to reason her into anything resembling a normal sleep schedule. During those times Darcy had to be satisfied stuffing food into Jane when she could and desperately riding out the crazy.
She walked into the dark kitchen with a softly grumbling stomach and behold- there were the deadly twins. They sat together hunched over the table slightly, looking exhausted and still dressed in combat gear. Both sets of eyes already pinned on her as she came around the corner. The Black Widow's catsuit zipper was down precariously low and they were both splattered with flecks of blood.
Yep, she was definitely interrupting.
"Oops. Ah, sorry. For interrupting your…whatever." 'Evil council?' "Ignore me. I'm not here. I'll be gone in like, 30 seconds."
The Black Widow's eyes darkened as she made to stand. Her partner's hand landed gently on her forearm to stop her and he eased himself back in his seat. The Widow sat again sharply. Scowling, the woman snapped something in Russian at him as Darcy made a desperate beeline for the easy-make microwave mac and cheese bowls.
Not exactly the food of champions but she take what she could get and get out of there fast.
As she pulled out the bowls and peeled off the plastic lids to begin filling them with water, the two spies continued to converse in low tones behind her. She was pretty sure they were switching languages between responses too. The hum of the microwave felt unnaturally loud in her ears when she hit start.
The Widow snarled something that sounded more like a growl then a word. Darcy had no idea what language they were speaking now but the conversation certainly didn't sound pleasant. She glanced back again at the two exhausted agents. Feeling awkward standing there and very self-conscious, Darcy made a quick decision and grabbed two big mugs from a cabinet.
The multilingual mutterings continued as she filled the mugs just passed the halfway with water. She popped the two mugs in the microwave beside the mac and cheese and grab the gallon of milk out of the fridge. From a drawer she grabbed a pair of spoons and then she found a box of pre-packaged hot cocoa mix because -yes.
Grabbing the hot mugs out of the microwave she plopped her whole haul before the two agents.
They broke off their angry mutterings to stare at her.
"I always find hot chocolate good for dealing with the crazies. Remus Lupin was dead on. Best medicine ever. 10 out of 10, would drink again. Also I know I interrupted your like whatever is happening here so- peace offering." She told them gesturing to the mugs lamely.
The Widows eyes took in the mugs and then slowly drew them up Darcy with a painfully kind and conciliatory smile across her lips. The crinkling around the woman's green eyes light and friendly. There was something chilling about it that sent terrified tingles down Darcy's spine. Like the woman was itching to stab her.
Adjusting her beanie with a hand she marched back to the microwave, retrieved her mac and cheese bowls and packets of undoubtedly fluorescent fake cheese, offered a fake salute and marched off toward the exit.
"Thanks, Lewis!" the archer called.
Darcy wasn't the type to pause because a super spy magically knew her name. Not any more, anyway. Frankly she was just happy for some levity to cut through the considerable tension running through her. So Instead of questioning it she just hollered back, "No problem Hawk-guy!" As she turned the corner, and wouldn't deny feeling generally badass about it.
Being in the same room as the Black Widow was cool but also kind of terrifying and Darcy was beginning to get the distinct impression that the woman maybe hated her.
-….-….-…-
Thankfully by Friday Jane had finally ran out of her science-steam and pretty much collapsed mid rant on the importance of ultra-high-energy particles. Whatever those were.
"Time for bed, Jane-y."
"Darcy, no." she argued a little hopelessly like Darcy was a particularly annoying dog.
Alright so maybe Jane wasn't quite out of steam yet but Darcy's patients had worn out.
Enough was enough.
"Jane, yes." She said, hands on her hips. "You haven't slept in a real bed in like, four days. We both need to shower, sleep, and eat something that isn't made entirely out of artificial preservatives."
Jane scrunched her nose in that way that meant that she knew Darcy was talking sense and just didn't want to admit it. Darcy held strong- carefully maintained the eye contact. She could show no weakness here. Jane hesitated; eyeing her work and sizing up Darcy. At Darcy's determined look her shoulders slumped and Darcy knew the battle was won. Herding her friend out of the lab she pat her reassuringly on the arm. "Don't worry boss lady, the sky will still be there when we get back."
Jane pouted unhappily but allowed herself to be dragged from the lab. "You don't know that" she grouched under her breath which Darcy happily ignored.
Darcy close the door to Jane's room after seeing the scientist safely inside and took off for her own room.
After a quick shower, Darcy changed into a pair of black sweatpants (her favorite pair because of the large pockets) and an overly large shirt from the Broadway production of Wicked. Feet stuffed into her fluffy socks, she grabbed her bag of knitting and made her way to one of the many living rooms in The Avengers facilities. The plush carpeting padded under her socked feet as she turned the corner to the 'blue living room' as it was so aptly named for its walls.
She blinked for a moment, taking in the unexpected scene she had managed to stumble upon.
The blackout curtains had been pulled down over the large windows, casting the room in a deep darkness. It may as well have been midnight. Crumpled on the far end of the white leather couch was Tony Stark. Hunched over, his hands covered his face, fingers gripping his hair.
Darcy hesitated at the entrance.
In Darcy's new reality she had come to accept being constantly surrounded by superheroes. They were amazing people and she respected and admired them all for a multitude of reasons. But she also knew that their lives, more often than not, tended to be pretty shitty. Messed up, crazy crap happened to them and she was seriously aware that it had to leave some intense and visceral scars.
Hugging her knitting bag to her chest she tentatively made her way into the room.
Just one of the many benefits that came from working in the Avenger circle was that the building was tricked out with what was essentially Netflix on crack. Meaning she had access to just about every movie ever made. Darcy decided to put it to good use now. It took her a moment, fiddling with four different remotes as Stark continued to breathe rigidly into the silence, but eventually Darcy managed to find and pull up 1998's direct-to-video musical 'Cats'.
Setting the volume low, she grabbed a couple of plush blankets from under the coffee table and sat gingerly beside Iron Man. She was close but hopefully not close enough to feel like she was overcrowding. As the play began Darcy wrapped one of the blankets around her lap and got her knitting ready. She was almost halfway through this plain-stitch red scarf.
Darcy cast another glance at Stark as the opening song began. His breathing was maybe slightly better but he had not yet removed his hands from his face.
Frowning slightly she unfold another of the soft blankets, this one white paisley, and slowly wrapped it around his shoulders. The muscles in his back rippled but he made no other move.
Emboldened by the lack of negative reaction Darcy picked up her knitting again and purposefully scooted herself just a little closer so that their sides lightly brush together. She kept her eyes on the TV and her knitting, but her focus on the tension that was ever so slowly bleeding out of Tony Stark. The music played on softly and by 'Rum Tum Tugger' he had removed his hands from his face and slunk back against the couch, eyes closed but clearly awake by the way his hands switched and fidgeted.
Darcy threw another blanket on him as the previous one had slipped from his shoulders and was pinned by his back. She shifted a little again, careful to keep her eyes on the dancing cats, until her arm leaned softly against him.
Slowly he began to lean on her too.
"Thanks, Lewis." He muttered thickly.
He sounded exhausted and incredibly uncomfortable. It was hard to believe this was the man she'd seen on T.V. schmoozing crowds of both celebrities and politicians. That man has been cocky and sharp, clad in flashing suits and cold polished shoes. Exuding a devil-may-care vibe that controlled every room he walked into. The man beside her was warn and pained, dressed in a tattered t-shirt with grease on his fingers. It was…surreal.
He shifted as though to stand so Darcy let herself fully lean against him and pulled her feet up beside her. Also, wow he knew her name. That was pretty cool.
"Wasn't ganna let you hog the couch, Stark." She said dismissively.
He snorted at that and settled a little uneasily back on the couch which she took as a positive sign.
"This musical sucks." He said after a moment.
"It does not." She said firmly.
"It's shit." He insisted.
"It's the shit."
He laughed. Point for Darcy.
Just before the start of 'Mungo Jerrie and Rumpleteazer' his head thudded against her shoulder. Out like a light.
Darcy was feeling rather pleased with herself until she heard voices coming from around the corner. Twisting her head around, trying not to dislodge Iron Man from his position on her shoulder, she could see Hawkeye and Black Widow looming at the entranceway. The redhead had her arms crossed over her chest while Hawkeye looked at her. "Have you seen Star-"Hastily she put a finger to her lips and jerked her head meaningfully at her side. The Archer pushed forward into the room as the Widow trailed silently after like a perfectly polite murderous specter.
When the two came around the edge of the couch and saw Stark conked out, Hawkeye started to laugh. Quickly, Darcy took a free ball of yarn from her knitting bag and chucked it at his face. It hit his torso but whatever. She put a finger her to her lips insistently. He grinned at her and his right hand came up to sign 'Ok, ok'.
Darcy considered the two for a moment before gently putting her knitting down, careful not to drop any stitches, and clumsily signed back 'Sit?' nodding her head towards the TV.
'You know - - sign? Where -?' His fingers flew excitedly as his grin widened. The Black Widow hovered behind him, face disconcertingly neutral. 'Know little' she replied sloppily, able to guess the general gist of his question. Was Hawkeye Deaf? Hard of Hearing? She wondered. Or maybe he just knew sign. She imagined a silent language would be helpful for stealth missions.
He turned his partner fingers a blur and she though he must have switched out of ASL because she didn't recognize any of those signs. The Widow frowned and sign something back to which her partner shrugged and perched himself on the other end of the sofa.
Riveted Darcy watched the play-by-play:
The Widow frowned, Hawkeye smiled brightly, she raised an arched eyebrow, he wiggled back in into the cushions, she sighed but the corners of her mouth twitch and she smoothly sat herself in the plush armchair.
Action over, Darcy purposely turned her attention back to the musical. Her hands absentmindedly returned to their knitting. The gently clicking melding with the music.
'Cats' always brought her back to her childhood. Those sick days home from school when her mom had had to work and she would bundle up under her comforter, alone in the basement. Little Darcy had loved it so much, the catchy and occasionally gut-wrenching music performed by dancing cats. What more could a child want? For maybe a year after first seeing the video Little Darcy had given every cat she'd encountered a name from the play.
Older now, Darcy could see why it was the bane of musical theater performers the world over. It lacked any kind of cohesive plot and was basically a bunch of individual songs strung together by nonsense. That hadn't stopped little Darcy from loving it and it didn't stop older Darcy's nostalgia. By the time 'Memories' started she was fully engrossed. Even after years between viewings she still knew every word.
Remembering suddenly that she wasn't alone in the room, Darcy glanced over at the two agents. Tony Stark's breathing was still deep and slow beside her and her mind spent a brief moment to wonder at how similar he was to Jane- had to be a genius thing. Working yourself to the brink of nervous collapse.
Neither of the two agents were paying her any mind, their attentions held on the screen as Grizabella the glamour cat sang her absolute heart out. 'Touch me, it's so easy to leave me, all alone with my memory, of my days in the Sun…'
The Widows face had…, while not exactly softened, at least dropped the eerie blankness that had shrouded her previous expression. She seemed less tense and some powerful emotion lingered at the very corners of her mouth.
Looking at the woman, Darcy wondered suddenly if the Widow had ever had anything like those sick days…
'If you touch me you'll understand what happiness is. Look, a new day has begun…'
As the credits began to roll the two spies stood in perfect sync. Darcy twisted a little; the billionaire, playboy, philanthropist was cutting off the circulation in her arm.
'That was good' Hawkeye signed to her, fingers perfectly clear and concise. He glanced at the still sleeping Tony before shrugging. He shot a quick glance at Black Widow who nodded, then made his way out with a lazily signed 'later!' over his shoulder. Pausing in pursuit of her partner for just a moment, Black Widow stopped and gave her a short nod of acknowledgement.
Darcy barely managed to suppress her grin until she was alone with the sleeping genius. She could totally say she was friends with the Black Widow now. She couldn't wait to tell Jane.
Tony gave a soft snore from her numb shoulder.
Just as soon as she figured out a way to escape Iron Man.