Chapter 2
After that first impromptu movie night, things changed around the Avengers facility.
For one, Tony Stark began taking notice of her existence. He particularly seemed to enjoy calling her down to his workshop and ordering her to do menial tasks- like get him coffee. He had somehow managed to acquire her phone number and would text her repeatably until she managed to take a quick break from Jane and show up at his lab. Stepping into Tony Stark's lab for the first time was a memory she knew would be burned into her mind forever. The floors were a soft, almost padded, cement like base. The walls gleamed with bits of suspended Iron Man suits. Multicolored holograms spun slowly as rock music blasted from the walls. Tony, almost always up to his elbows in whatever he was tinkering with. Rather than take offense at the menial tasks he kept requesting of her, Darcy instead seized upon the opportunity. He would text her thirty times only for her to arrive and discover he wanted her to hand him a wrench- so she would hand him a hammer and walk away. Requests for coffee were equally fun- creating all manner of wild flavor combinations; some of which were probably not technically edible. (Edible? Drinkable? Whatever.) And when he wasn't doing that, he'd take it upon himself to appear in Jane's lab; making snarky comments about Jane's handmade equipment which, although amusing, was probably not great for Jane's health.
The other change came from the Black Widow. It seemed Darcy had passed some test or another because the woman no longer disappeared on those rare instances they ended up in the kitchen together. Darcy would rate them as basically best friend's- meaning that the Russian no longer puffed up like an angry cat when she entered the room and was generally content to peaceably ignore her existence entirely.
The only way life could be better was if the multiple non-disclosure agreements her had signed would let her blog about it on Tumblr. Of course the NDA's hadn't stopped her from making an Avengers theme blog and promoting positive Avengers awareness anyway but that wasn't really the point. She could only dream the number of likes she'd get for being able to post actual interviews and behind the scenes photo's with the team.
"Boo!"
Damn it. She'd definitely jumped.
Darcy looked up from the 265th page of Jane's latest report to glare at Tony. He leaned against her desk, smirking as he popped a blueberry in his mouth. Darcy had been in the middle of triple wielding highlighters to color coordinate the data reports and now she was tempted to take one and color the tip of his nose. "You threw off my grove, man."
"It's Iron Man actually. Emphasis on the Iron. Besides what are you even doing here? It's like 8 on Friday." He said like he himself wasn't infamous for spending entire weekends locked up in his workshop. Tony snatched a few pages of the report off the desk and flipping through it idly. "Gross. This is what we have computers for."
Darcy rolled her eyes and grab the pages back. "No, this is why Jane has me."
The man huffed rudely, "So skip out. And if she fires you then you can come work for me. Guarantee I pay better and, bonus, I won't make you miss your hot Friday night dates."
"Darcy doesn't date." Jane called from the top of one of her heavily modified telescopes.
That woman was a terror. When had she climbed up there? And why? Darcy might need to consider one of those child leashes. Or maybe some climbing helmets.
Tony spun around and gave Jane a disbelieving look. "Of course she dates."
Darcy felt a flash of indignant irritation. With long practice she pushed the feeling aside, she knew Tony didn't mean anything by it and she wasn't in any mood to play educator today. Instead Darcy just shook her head and said, "Nah man." He's eyes squinted at her suspiciously and she shrugged casually back. "Why do you care anyway, aren't you like- with Pepper Potts?"
The smile slipped a little on his cheeks. Something flashed across his eyes that made Darcy sure she must have miss-stepped somehow but the man shook whatever it was off quickly. "Not the point I was making, beanie baby! Get it? Cuz you wear beanies and are a literal child." He said emphatically, pointing a finger at her.
Glad he was brushing aside whatever bomb she had unknowingly stepped on, Darcy allowed the change in subject with a dismissive toss of her hair. "Pretty sure that's just code for you being old, dude." He gaped dramatically at her, hand clutching his heart. She shrugged unconcernedly back at him. Darcy had worried the first few times she had rejected his demands she quit and go work for him that he might take offense. She needn't have bothered though. In fact, he seemed to grow more delighted the more she refused.
Behind him Jane began scuttling down from her telescope. (Darcy was definitely going to have to order some climbing helmets. She made a mental list to add that to her Amazon cart. ) Once her feet touched solid ground Jane marched over. Darcy didn't bother suppressing her smile. Jane had that possessive look in her eyes that had developed following their first run in with S.H.I.E.L.D. "Alright, what is the point of all this, Mr. Stark? Why are you harassing my intern?" she asked pointedly, taking a defensive position beside Darcy.
Darcy looked fondly over at her boss lady.
Jane was crazy, no denying that, but she was also basically a total sweetheart. "You don't want to irritate her, she's become a little trigger happy after Shield. She'll have Thor sic Mewmew on you." Darcy warned half seriously, giving Jane a bright smile.
"Oh please, I can totally take Fezzik." He said dismissively. "The bigger picture here is that we are all now late." He shrugged, blatantly tapping his worth-more-than-your-house watch.
Jane paused. "Late? Late for what?"
…and he totally had her.
"Movie night."
All three of them looked to the elevator door where the Falcon stood sheepishly with his hands in his pockets. "Sorry for interrupting but Natasha's getting impatient." He said rather ominously. Darcy wondered vaguely who 'Natasha' was for a moment. Also- what? There was a movie night? and she was invited?
Tony clapped his hands and made for the elevator. "You guys coming or what?"
Darcy looked at Jane. Jane looked at Darcy, then at her equipment. Darcy looked at Jane. Jane looked at Darcy. Jane sighed, hiding half a smile with a head shake. "Oh, why not."
"Yes!" Darcy exclaimed happily. She pulled Jane by the arm over toward the elevator and the two waiting Avengers. "So what are we watching?" she asked excitedly.
"Anybody want a peanut?" Tony smirked in an exaggeratedly deep voice.
"Yes! Love that movie! Westley is so hot!" Darcy grasped excitedly as the doors slid closed.
And thus with a viewing of The Princess Bride, the tradition of Friday movie nights with the Avengers began.
-….-….-…-
Kitchen run-ins with the Widow (occasionally accompanied by Hawkeye) continued as the days wore on with some arguable improvement. The female agent would perch at the marble island reading while Darcy padded around making lunches and snacks, often leaving the Widow offerings of warm tea and bowls of fresh fruit. Most days the woman would offer Darcy a vague and dismissive smile, then blatantly leave the offerings untouched as she finished reading a chapter in her latest book and stalked calmly out of the room. Which was kind of a bummer.
But Darcy had never been a quitter!
(Truthfully she had quit quite frequently until she met Jane. Then survival instincts had led her to cultivate her stubbornness into a formidable ally against the insanity of scientists.)
With bullheaded determination Darcy continued to offer the woman food (Since her brain seemed to forget how words worked while she was in the room with her.) Darcy would place her offerings before the superhero and bow slightly as she backed unobtrusively away.
And over time she successful began to notice a pattern.
The Black Widow was fond of sweets. Anything marshmallow or meringue-like in particular. Those offerings tend to go over better. (One time Darcy experiments by purposefully not clearing away the rejected offering of extra marshmallow rice crispy treats and found one gone by the time she returned to the kitchen to check in. She was almost 75% certain it was Widow who took it. Plus it was only after that incident that the Black Widow began to actually occasional accept the things Darcy made for her.)
She also began to pick up on 'bad days'.
Days when the pressure in the room would build and build, like a constant crescendo of warning buzzing ominously through the air. On those days, the red haired woman would pin her with a cold stare that clashed horrifically with a knowing smile and the flashing of teeth. Darcy had never known a glare to bother her but there was something...terrifying lurking behind those eyes. A black void of darkness that waited patiently for the opportunity to utterly destroy it's prey. Darcy was very careful on those days. She moved a little slower, was extra careful not to push or crowd, and forcibly kept herself from running when she left. That was a thing, right? 'Only prey runs', or something like that.
On good days the feel of the whole room would be different. The air more free and light. And the Widow would be there in her seat at all random hours of the day, Hawkeye occasionally glued to her side, and Darcy's presents would be greeted with grimaced suspicious smiles (a half amused half disgruntled Hawkeye complaining good naturally about his lack of deity-ship worship) and the occasionally sharply offered "Spasibo."
It gave one the feeling not dissimilar to when a cat designed to put its paw on your hand.
Therefore, when Darcy strolled into the kitchen one night to find the other woman sitting in at the island in the dark, it was nothing too unusual.
Except that she was dressed in what appeared to be in incredibly expensive evening gown. Black low-cut silk with rhinestones around the hem, and notably, ripped in several places. Darcy could see hints of bandages peeking through several tears in the rich fabric.
On the marble island sat a pair of matte-black hand guns.
The Widow did not look up at her entrance.
She had her eyes fixed on the guns with a dark hallow look etched into her face. Her burning red hair was tussled in wild curly disarray. The woman sat so still she didn't appear to be breathing- she could have been nothing more than shadow.
Darcy rocked back on her feet and wondered why she seemed to find herself in these situations.
As with Iron Man, she hesitated for a good few moments; unsure if her usual brand of brashness would be welcome here. But well, it had turned out better then expected last time she had attempted to help a superhero. So whatever.
Leaving the lights off, Darcy went to the cabinet and grabbed a large mug. Then she scrounged around for the necessary butter, sugar, eggs, vanilla extract, flour, and the half eaten bag of chocolate chips. She melted the butter for a few seconds then mixed in the rest of the ingredients. Darcy set the mug back in the microwave for another two minuets, feeling the Widows gaze on her back. Determinedly, she ignored the somewhat hostile feeling stare and poured a glass of milk and grabbed a spoon for good measure as the microwave dinged.
As she turned to present her infamous cookie-in-a-mug, she found the Black Widow watching her with a tired but contemplative look.
Darcy bit her lip and placed the mug and the glass of milk down before the hero. "Hi. Here, this is for you. Obviously. I mean, if you like cookies. And who doesn't like cookies? I'm Darcy, by the way. This is a little weird because like we've met before but never really introduced ourselves."
The Widow tilted her head gently, red hair falling over her shoulder. A small smile crept across her haunted face- it looked just the same as the last smile The Widow had given her. The light crinkles around the eyes entirely identical. Only this felt...different. There was a conspicuous lack of buzzing in the air. "I know. Natasha Ronanoff." She nodded at the mug, "Thank you."
"Oh yeah, sure, no problem! I do it for Jane all the time…I'll just leave you to it cuz I honestly cannot remember what I came in here for."
Still smiling slightly the Widow picked up the spoon and twirled it deftly between her thin fingers. The long nails were painted a glossy black and not one was chipped. If that wasn't proof of divinity Darcy didn't know what was. "Let me know how you like it." Darcy called, looking back as she made her slow and steady retreat.
Rational thought was starting to catch up with her. Natasha. 'Natasha' was The Black Widow's name. How fucking cool was that? Natasha Romanoff.
Natasha rested her head on a fist, eyeing the mug full of cookie. "I will."
Darcy fled to the elevator.
Mark that one down as a success, she thought.
As the metal doors slid closed a memory from her tour of the facility sprung to the forefront of her mind and she impulsively hit the button for the top floors.
Darcy stepped out on to the empty hall.
Taking a wild guess she walked down the corridor and knocked on the room to the right. When she received no answer she moved to the next door. On her third try a bleary eyed Hawkeye answered. His hair was a ruffled nest of tangled locks and he was dressed in a pair of Hawkeye Avengers brand brief which would have been hilarious if it weren't for the cold squint his metallic grey eyes pinned on her.
Apparently a sleepy Hawkeye was a grumpy (deadly) Hawkeye.
"Your partner is down stairs in the green tile kitchen and could probably use you there. Like, I gave her a cookie but you should probably drag her to the gym or do whatever you crazy people do after a shitty mission."
Hawkeye blinked slowly and disappeared from the door. He returned before Darcy could decide if that was supposed to be a dismissal with a huge bottle of vodka in his hand.
"Oh, yeah. That would work too." Darcy approved emphatically. Ignoring her, Hawkeye stepped out and locked his door, leading the way back to the elevator in silence. She felt a little bad for waking him, watching him blink wearily during their quiet decent. They reached Darcy's stop first and Hawkeye seemed slightly more alert as she excited the elevator.
"Thanks for gett'in me, Lewis." She caught him say as the doors slid closed.
Was that a southern drawl? …weird.
With a shrug she headed down the hall to unlock her door. Darcy had plans for some alone time with herself and then she was going to pass the fuck out.
-….-….-…-
Natasha heard Clint coming long before she saw him turn the corner.
The soft even steps of one used to making only the quietest whisper of sound. She knew them because they were the same. Because she and Clint both had those footsteps. Although, with her specialized training and heightened hearing, even Clint Barton had trouble sneaking up on the Black Widow.
(Except for that one time in Venice that she would never admit to.)
She didn't bother to turn and greet him upon his arrival, opting instead for another spoon full of soft delicious cookie.
Natasha was both surprised and entirely unsurprised that he would find her here. On the one hand, it was not unusual at all for Clint to check in on her after a difficult mission. On the other, she knew for a fact that he himself had just gotten back from Nigeria and Clint tended to crash after missions like that for at least 48 hours. Perhaps his 'retirement' was going him some good after all- allowing him to bounce back quicker than he had before. (Retirement meaning that he was running half as many missions as he used to. No spy ever truly retired until they were dead- sometimes not even then.)
The man staggered into sight, a familiar bottle clutched loosely in one hand, and went straight for the shot glasses. Not batting an eye at the sight of her torn dress he grabbed two glasses and splashed a liberal amount of clear Russian imported vodka into both, then pushed one across the island marble to her. Natasha picked it up with nimble fingers and the two toasted with a wordless clink.
Although, Natasha realized, it had been a while since they had last done this.
Clint was splitting his time between Laura and the kids and hunting down their former colleagues. He was taking shorter assassination missions. Jobs where he could go in, get it done, and get home faster. She herself had been running longer undercover jobs; hunting leads on the Winter Soldier all across Europe. It involved a great deal of time, patience, and intimacy. (and betrayal of that intimacy.)
One of the best things about Clint was that he never pushed her to talk, Natasha mused, always content to sit in silence with her.
She observed the dark circles under his steely eyes, the slightly swollen knuckles wrapped around the shot glass, the scrape hidden at the top of his messy hairline, the childish boxers. So he had been sleeping then.
Natasha frowned.
"Thought you'd be asleep" she admitted after a moment. How did you know to come find me?
"I was." He shrugged and refilled both of their glasses. "Your little fan came and got me."
She had to think for less than half a second.
Darcy Lewis.
Natasha furrowed her brow.
Clint knocked back his second shot. Alcohol beginning to zing through him he looked far more awake. Natasha considered this to be regretful.
Placing the bottle down, he stepped back and hopped up on the counter beside the sink. He was always careful not to crowd her on nights like this. She never bothered to tell him that it wouldn't bother her if he got closer. That he meant too much to her to be mistaken for a mark now.
The man licked his lips slightly, "I like her. She's spunky."
If Natasha was a normal woman, she would have fidgeted at the soft rebuke tucked away in his meaning. As it was she ignored him and scooped out another bite of her cookie.
Natasha did not do well around civilians. (The real Natasha anyway- not Natalie, or Nicole, or Nancy…) They made her…uncomfortable. What was that thing Steve had said? Something about the troubles of finding someone with shared life experiences? It was true enough even if she had ragged on him a little. Civilians were witnesses, targets, casualties, obstacles…she could deal with them well enough when she had to. It was just irritating to have to have them invade a space she thought was going to be a place she could be herself.
"Aww come'on Tasha." The obnoxious man grinned with a hint of drawl slipping through his tone. The overgrown child swung his feet ever so slightly. "I think it's kinda cute. We don't often get fans. Or, not stable ones anyway."
'Cute', that was something she really didn't want to touch. (Because part of her liked Darcy Lewis more than she wanted to admit and the last time that had happened she's been standing drenched in the rain in Kiev with a gullible idiot aiming an arrow at her heart.)
"Certainly not any of yours." She deflected easily with a playful smirk.
The thought of fans made her just as...unsettled- as civilians. Historically, fans of the Black Widow had been interested for very different reasons than fans of people like Captain America. Darker reasons that had left her hands stained in blood. (Ah, but that was your own fault wasn't it? You knew exactly what you were doing.)
Besides, all things considered Natasha thought she was doing rather well; it had been her idea to join the Avengers after all. Did she really need to be spending time around civilians too? (Even if they did make her treats that melted in her mouth. And, according to Thor himself, tasered Norse gods. And managed to make even being around Tony Stark tolerable….that man had been even more on edge lately…)
Barton rolled his eyes with that charming smirk of his and came off the counter with a slight leap. His landing was suitable silent. He tilted his head, eyes honing in on her mug, and his nostrils flared. Damn.
"Is that a cookie in your cup? How did you even do that?"
A wise question as Natasha was a terrible baker. How annoying that Clint was one of the few people in the world to know that. "No." She denied even as she scooped up another bite. It was going to get cold if she waited too long and she was enjoying the way the warm chocolate chips melted in her mouth.
He pouted like an overgrown child, "I don't even get one bite?"
"No."
"Na-at!" He whined, creeping closer.
Unimpressed Natasha took another bite.
She caught the kitchen knife he threw out of nowhere at her head smoothly between her fingers, the point half an inch from her eye. Still chewing the last of her bite she let him snatch the mug from counter.
"Oh come on!" He frowned in disappoint at the empty mug.
"You can put that away for me." Natasha told him. She slid out of her seat. She wanted to get out of this dress. "I will meet you in the sparing room in ten."
Heading off to change into more comfortable workout clothes she tucked any thought about Darcy Lewis out of her mind for now. She had other things to worry about; her next moves on the hunt for the Winter Soldier, Hydra, and the fractures in the team left by Sokovia. She didn't have time for anything else. (Natasha had always been skilled at lying. Even to herself.)