Darcy Lewis/ Jack Rollins
Darcy Lewis did not have a glorious job, but she loved it anyway. She seldom had to mind people the way she looked after Jane, and she got to listen to her music pretty much all the time. She really couldn’t complain. Not to mention that she was generally working with a hot STRIKE agent most of the time.
It was tedious and sometimes laborious, but Darcy enjoyed her work. For every time that a mission called for an actual safehouse, instead of a cheap motel or even a tent, that safehouse needed to be cleared and stocked. Sometimes it was dangerous. More than once squatters had found them, or they had been turned into drug dens. Sometimes there were some really bad people waiting for the team that cleared the safehouses for use. That’s where Darcy’s handsome STRIKE agent came in.
While Darcy supervised what foods, medical supplies, basic living and hygiene supplies went into any given safehouse, the weapons and ammo restock had to be supervised by a field agent. Said field agent was also required to walkthrough the safehouse first, checking for any traps, damages, or other dangers before Darcy could start her assessment. Since it was generally considered that Commander Rumlow would be too busy, and one of the lower agents wouldn’t be up to the task, Darcy had been working with Agent Jack Rollins two to three times a week for the better part of a year. The only times she was assigned to someone else was when Jack was required on a bigger STRIKE mission. She hated those. Jack had a tendency to be reckless and come back hurt.
She didn’t understand how everyone in the agency thought he was such a hardass. Sure, he was stoic and reserved around the base, but in his position, that was to be expected. On base, he smiled less than Agent May, which was impressive, but Darcy’s Jack was all smiles and laughing. He could lay out the filthiest jokes she knew, and manage to not make the silence afterwards awkward. Jack could make Darcy smile on bad days when she just wanted to shout, and when he smiled at her, she felt something in her chest lighten up just a little.
Darcy had it bad. She knew when she started having feelings that were definitely not of the ‘we’re chill because we work together’ variety. Having gone through an incredibly bad breakup, Darcy had started drinking an awful lot. People had started to notice. Her superiors had started to notice. Jack had noticed it right away. After two weeks of coming in surly and hungover, Jack had pulled Darcy into his office and let her cry all over him about how miserable she felt that nobody wanted her. He held her tightly in his arms, and tucked her under his chin, and told her that any man would be damn lucky to have such an amazing woman to call theirs, and anyone who couldn’t see that should be shot.
After Darcy slept had off that particular hangover on the couch in Jack’s office, she thought about how good and right she had felt in Jack’s arms. She had woken up alone, Jack was a busy man after all, but he had draped his jacket over her, and turned the lights down so she could rest. He had left her a paper cup of water from the cooler and a bottle of Tylenol. It was then that she knew she was in trouble.
Now, half a year later, Darcy had an awesome best friend and an awesome job. Now she just needed to get laid. This was proving difficult. The person she wanted to take to bed, oh so very desperately, was absolutely not interested. Darcy had been very forward with Jack the few times she had let herself drink since her breakup. She knew that she had flustered Jack before, so she knew that he was interested in women, but he didn’t seem to be interested in her. Flustered or not, he always made sure that she made it back to her room, and always alone. She tried not to let it hurt her pride. And if she tended to wear lower cut tops, and tighter jeans on the days she worked with Jack, well that was her business.
This particular mission was to an old, but steadfast safehouse in the Colorado Mountains. It was something of a frequent flyer safehouse, so it generally had to be stocked for several consecutive uses, and have several bedrooms. It was not a place that seemed fantastic while she looked at the paperwork, but in person, Darcy thought it was beautiful. It was cold, bitterly cold, with snow falling already. Darcy thought it looked like a wonderland.
The snowfall made for cold but busy work. Jack had already cleared the safehouse and unloaded most of the heavier supplies. Darcy was stocking the enormous freezer with food when the weather advisory alert came in.
Ducking his head in the doorway to the kitchen, Jack called out, “So how do you feel about being stuck with me a few more days?”
“I think it’s a great chance for me to lose a few dozen more hands of cards.” Darcy grinned. No one had beaten Jack at cards in years. Rumlow came close once, but he folded. While Darcy had certainly improved, she was still no match for Jack’s legendary poker face. She was sure that even if he didn’t have his SHIELD salary, he could make a living as a career gambler.
Smiling, Jack ducked back around the corner. Darcy heard the quinjet powering down, and after a few minutes heard the bolt in the front door slide. Two soft thuds meant Jack had taken off his boots. Darcy liked the rare times she got to spend with Jack like this. It made it seem like she wasn’t trying too hard to hang out with him. By now she knew more about Jack than even Commander Rumlow.
As Darcy closed the fridge, she turned to fill the first aid kit, only to find it missing from the spot where she had left it. Walking through the living area and toward the bedrooms in search of Jack, who must have moved it, she heard a soft groan.
“Jack, are you alright?” Peering into the bedroom that Jack seemed to have claimed, she saw the first aid kit, opened, and Jack holding his side. "Jack, what happened?"
Darcy rushed into the room to check Jack for injuries. He had taken off his winter coat, and all of his field gear. His outer shirt had been cut off, and the tank top he wore underneath was pulled up above his rib-cage. "Darcy, I've got this-”
“No, you’re hurt. God, we haven’t been here an hour, are you okay?”
“It’s okay, looks worse than it is. Just slipped on some ice, landed on that pile of firewood. Some scrapes are all.”
“Thank god you had your gear on, that could have really hurt you.” Darcy’s face was scrunched up with concern. She started cleaning Jack’s very minor wounds, which, thankfully, wouldn’t need stitches.
“You’re really worried about this, aren’t you?” Jack asked softly.
Not meeting his eyes, Darcy replied, “I’m always worried about you.”
As Jack tilted his head and opened his mouth to speak, the power shuddered and went out. The cabin was pitched into almost complete darkness. Darcy stood and pushed the blinds aside.
“It’s really coming down out there.” Crouching back down to Jack, she made short work of dressing his wound. Jack was still looking at her strangely.
“I should go check the generator.” He was already standing and reaching for his coat when Darcy stuck a hand out and shoved him onto the bed. The look of total shock on his face was hilarious.
Smiling, Darcy said, “Relax big guy, I’ll go. You’re hurt, and I know how to check a generator.”
“That snow is bad, Darce, the wind too.”
“It’s okay Jack. It’s a short walk.”
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Darcy had never believed that famous last words were a thing, but boy did she now. After more than an hour of failing to re-start the generator, she was cold and headed in to find Jack. Not being able to see the ice through the snow, Darcy slipped, rolling down the bank of piled snow. Tumbling for almost twenty feet, she landed on her back and sank into the deep snow. Something solid knocked the wind right out her, and the last thing she remembered before her vision hazed out, was that she hoped Jack would be able to find her.
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Warmth surrounded Darcy. Everything was warm and cozy. Her back hurt terribly, but she was warm, and everything smelled like the cedary spice that Darcy recognized as Jack's cologne. Only Jack would even bring cologne along on a mission. As she tried to sit up, she let out a soft moan of discomfort. It was then that she noticed Jack in the room. And then she noticed that Jack was shirtless, and changing his bandage.
“What happened?”
"Well," Jack began, giving her the disappointed voice he used when someone had fucked up, "After you decided to check the generator when I told you that I would take care of it, you must have slipped, too. When I finished changing my clothes and washing up, and you still weren’t back, I went to look for you. I found you at the bottom of the hill after more than an hour of looking. You were outside for almost three.”
“I feel terrible.”
“I’m sure you do. You aren’t seriously hurt, but I’ll be surprised if you aren’t sick.”
“Great.” Laying back with a huff, Darcy felt the bed dip. “Jack?”
“Yes?”
“Thanks for coming after me.”
He smiled. “Of course, Darcy. If I left you out there to die, who would I have to play cards with for the next couple days?”
“Jack?”
“Yes?” He sounded a little more exasperated this time.
“Why am I in your bed?”
Jack flushed a deep scarlet that made Darcy’s heart flutter. Jack wasn't the blushing type; he would usually be silent or say something rude and move on. He turned away from her quickly. “I couldn’t get the generator going either, so it’s going to be a cold few days. We’ll have to double up if we want to stay warm.” He gestured to the firewood he had brought in, and the fire he had started in the wood stove in his room.
Darcy lay back, tugging on Jack’s arm. As they lay together, he wrapped the blankets around them both. One of his hands came up to her forehead.
“Already working on a fever.”
“Yay me.” Darcy sounded dejected, but nuzzled in closely to Jack’s chest, telling herself that the way his heart thumped erratically meant nothing, and let herself go back to sleep.
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When Darcy awoke, she was cold- more than cold. The fire was still blazing in the wood stove, but the bed beside her was empty. She shivered and tried to call for Jack, but no sound came out. Then the pain registered. It felt like someone had taken a bottle brush to the inside of her throat. Her eyes watered, and her head hurt. Climbing out of bed, and putting on Jack's heavy coat, she headed for the kitchen, where she heard Jack humming to a tune she didn't recognize.
Hearing her soft steps, Jack turned. The smile on his face faltered when he saw her face, with tears running down, and red puffy lips.
"Oh, Darcy." He gently led her to the tiny kitchen table and sat her down. Stepping to the cabin’s living area, he grabbed a thick knit blanket and draped it around the coat she already wore.
She opened her mouth to speak, but only a whimper came out, and she grabbed her throat. Jack’s look of concerned pity only compounded her misery.
“I’m going to make you some tea.” Darcy crinkled her nose. She was vehemently not a tea drinker. She felt that tea was for people who couldn’t handle coffee. She gave Jack shit for it all the time, because he usually drank tea if it was available, and coffee only if it was all that was there.
“I know, I know. But the coffee here is not only instant but decaf." Darcy's despise of decaffeinated coffee was unrivaled within SHIELD. She crinkled her nose again and looked down.
Jack knelt down on the floor before her and looked into her eyes. "I know you don't like tea, but this is special tea. I'm worried about you okay? Let me take care of you."
Darcy nodded, glad for the time that her voice was gone and prevented her from making a comment about all the ways that Jack could take care of her. She snuffled and smelled something delicious. It was then that she realized why Jack had been in the kitchen. He was cooking. Darcy had never known Jack to cook. Any time they had been overnighted for work she had handled the cooking- mostly because she felt that Jack had done enough. She supposed it made sense, though. The man had to feed himself somehow, and as far as Darcy knew, he’d been a single man for most of his adult life.
The pot on the stove smelled amazing, and Darcy heard her stomach rumble, which made Jack laugh. "Don't worry; it's almost done. It's chicken soup. Do you want rice or pasta in it? We have both.”
Darcy pointed at the bag of curly egg noodles on the counter.
"Excellent choice. I don't understand rice in soups anyway."
Jack continued humming, as Darcy leaned back in her chair. She smelled sharp spices in the air, watched as Jack measured out almost a dozen spices and dropped them into a small pot. When the water boiled, he dropped in nearly half the jar of honey from the shelf. He reached over to add the now cooked pasta to the soup pot and began fishing around the pantry. She heard a soft "Aha!" and Jack pulled out a box of something.
“It’s powdered, and this is better with fresh, but it'll do." Jack dumped two full cups of what looked like dry milk. He stirred everything together for a few minutes and then added several tea bags to the mix. "It's better with the right tea, too, but we’ll save all that for another time.”
Jack pulled a large mug down from the high shelf and filled it from the pot of spices he had been mixing. He set it down in front of her and turned to grab a mug for himself. Darcy realized that Jack had made her chai. From absolute scratch, he had made chai. Without knowing that it was the only tea she liked, and that it was what her grandmother had always made her when was sick, Jack had made it for her. She felt her face get hot, and tears filled her eyes. She stood, dropping the blanket, and wrapped her arms around Jack, leaning against his back. He chuckled softly at her.
He turned in her arms and looked down. The concerned look reappeared at her expression, and he wrapped her tightly in a hug that squeezed the breath out of her. "Sit down, Darce. I'll get us some soup." He quickly filled two bowls and dragged his chair around so that he could sit beside Darcy rather than across from her.
He rested an arm along the back of her chair while he ate, the closeness more than anything helped Darcy to relax. She sipped at her soup while she waited on the chai to cool. When her soup bowl was empty, she picked up the mug of chai. She smelled it- it smelled perfect. Taking a tentative sip, she moaned deeply, and quite embarrassingly. She felt Jack stiffen beside her, and she realized how sexual she must have sounded. Taking advantage of the moment, she leaned her head against Jack’s shoulder.
“I take it you like the tea?” His voice sounded rougher than usual and a little strained.
“Yes.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Thank you, Jack. I didn’t even know you could cook.”
“You are very welcome. But save your voice.” He smiled at her, seeming genuinely pleased at her remark. He gathered the dishes and sat them in the sink. Covering the soup, and the chai, he pushed them to the back of the stove.
“Why don’t you go lay back down? I’m going to try that generator again. We’re going to want to run water, and without power, the well pump is out."
Darcy nodded and took her mug back to Jack's bedroom. As an afterthought, she went back to the kitchen and grabbed a large pot. Stopping at the front door to fill it with snow, she carried to the wood stove. Carefully resting it on the top grate, she undressed. Her bag always had a change of clothes and a shower kit for times just like this, and she felt disgusting and sweaty.
Standing by the warm fire, Darcy started to wash the sweat from her body with the now warm water in the pot. Once she was completely clean, except for her feet, she carried the rag with her and sat at the edge of the bed. Washing her feet down, she tossed the rag toward the bathroom, where it landed on the tile. Lying back for a moment, she closed her eyes. The room brightened, as the lights came back on. Darcy smiled, glad that Jack had figured out the generator problem.
Slipping off the bed so she could dress before Jack came back inside, she paused. All of her clothes were either dirty or jeans. She was not about to get in bed with jeans on. Reaching into Jack's bag, she pulled out the shirt closest to the top. It was long sleeved and thermal. It also smelled like Jack. As she pulled it on, it draped down to her mid- thigh. She had only just put underwear on when she heard a startled gasp in the doorway.
“Darcy, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were changing.” She decided that Jack was adorable when he blushed.
“I needed to wash.” She motioned to the pot of water.
Jack stepped into the room, and up to Darcy. He didn’t seem troubled that she had stolen his clothes. He looked conflicted.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s… nothing.” He sat down heavily, not looking at her.
“Jack?”
"Let's get some sleep; it's pretty late." He shut the light off, and lay down, not facing her. Darcy slid under the blankets and settled down. Her thoughts were troubled, and she didn't understand why Jack was agitated with her when he had been in such a good mood. She rested her head against his back, and he relaxed into the touch but said nothing.
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Sunlight crept through the windows, and Darcy slid out from under the blankets to look outside. It was still snowing, but it was bright out. It would probably be done by the end of the day, which meant another day or two before they could safely take the quinjet back. Turning back to the bed, she noticed that Jack was still asleep. Her throat didn’t hurt nearly as bad, and she smiled.
Climbing back into bed, she cuddled up to Jack’s chest. He must have turned over in the night. Thinking that if he was already mad at her for something, then it couldn’t hurt to come clean. She loved their missions, their jokes, their friendship. Darcy also knew that all of that could come crashing down if she told Jack how she felt. But she hated keeping it inside, and she could never move on from Jack if she didn’t tell him.
The thought that Jack might never want to speak to her again, or worse, that he would pity her and asked to be reassigned choked her. She felt the tears down her face as she tried to stop the sobs that shook her. Hoping not to wake Jack, she buried her face in his chest, shaking slightly.
It didn’t work. Jack rumbled a little and brought his arms around her.
“Darcy?” His voice was sleep- rough and questioning.
Darcy didn’t answer. Only thinking that it felt so good, so right, in his arms, she couldn't hold it back. Jack didn't say a word, just tightened his hold and let her cry.
After almost ten minutes of Jack soothingly running his hands over her back, she settled down. Jack looked into her eyes, worried. “Darcy, sweetie, what’s wrong?”
"I-" She still couldn't do it. She backed out of his grip and turned to face the wall away from him. He followed, sitting beside her, and wrapping his arms around her again.
“Darcy?”
“Jack what did I do?” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“What?” Jack looked confused.
"What did I do? You were acting weird yesterday, and again last night when you brushed me off. Did I do something?"
“What? No Darcy, that’s just-” He paused, looking for words.
“Let me guess. It’s nothing.” She got up and reached for her clean set of clothes. She couldn’t talk to him like this. She needed to calm down so he wouldn’t think she was a crazy person for getting so upset over what must look like something petty.
She didn't hear him move, but Jack gently took hold of her hand and turned her to face him.
“Darcy, I’m not upset with you. I don’t think I’ve ever been upset with you. Will you tell me what’s bothering you?” He was using the same soft voice he had yesterday when she was dressing his wounds.
Darcy tilted her head and looked up at Jack. She thought about how beautiful his eyes were, how the scruff on his chin was endearing, and how the scar on his face just made him seem more ruggedly handsome to her. She tried to memorize every line of his face, in case she never got to see the look he was giving her now ever again.
“Jack, I’m in love with you.”
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All of Jack’s thoughts were screaming in his head. Darcy Lewis loved him. Darcy Lewis loved him. She had told him how much she loved him when she was drunk before, and it always hurt him to settle her into her room alone, but she was sober now. She was thinking clearly. Darcy Lewis loved him. He was silent for a moment too long.
Darcy turned away from him again. “I- I know you don’t feel the same way, and I know this makes things weird, but I couldn’t say nothing. I’ve felt this way for a little while, and it’s torture for me to look at you every day and know that I can’t have you.”
Jack still couldn’t speak. Internally screaming at himself to do something, to fucking say anything, but he was frozen. He knew that he was ruining his chance with this woman and he couldn’t speak.
“Jack you’re giving me base- face. Please say something. If you want me to reassign, I will. I know I’m not really a solid choice of person to have pining after you. I know this- this changes things, God Jack will you please just say something? Tell to me fuck off, anything!” Darcy was crying and yelling, she flailed her arms around and sat on the foot of the bed heavily.
Jack closed the distance between them and pulled Darcy back to her feet. She looked scared for a moment and wondered if Jack was going to yell at her. He'd never done that, but she had seen him yell at junior agents before and it was terrifying. She looked up.
"Jack?" Her voice was a small, terrified little squeak. Jack couldn't take it. He leaned down and kissed her. Her soft gasp let him deepen the kiss. Her moans were driving him crazy; he ran his hands down her body to her thighs. He broke the kiss long enough to crouch and pick Darcy up under her thighs and swing her onto the bed. He quickly climbed on top of her.
He started kissing down her face, and her neck. Taking a moment to sink his teeth over the veins in her throat, he was rewarded with a breathy gasp of his name.
“Jack- Jack!” Darcy’s voice was deep with arousal, and her soft moans were making him lightheaded with want. Kissing down her throat, down the open neck of his shirt that she wore, he paused under her collarbone, sucking a small love bite there, and smirking at the mark he’d made.
He looked up and saw that while Darcy had stopped crying, her face was still wet with tears. He pulled himself up and pulled her against his chest.
“Darcy, I never thought you would ever want me. I’m not, not good for you. You've seen our reports; you know what we do. How could you want me?" Feeling like he was selfishly taking advantage, he started to withdraw from her.
Darcy tucked her foot under his knee to stop him. “Jack Rollins, you stop that. You are a damn good man, and I knew that I was in over my head that day in your office.”
He looked down at her with his eyes full of wonder. "I meant that, you know. Any man would be lucky to have you."
“I want you, Jack. I want you to have me.”
Amusement flashed across Jack's face, and he reddened.
“Is that why you’ve been acting weird Jack?”
"Maybe?" He flopped down beside her and sat up on one elbow. "I think I wanted you damn near the moment I laid eyes on you. I knew-” He swallowed thickly, and looked away. “I knew that I loved you when you broke up with Ian. All I could think about was how much I wanted it to be me that you went home to. I wanted it to be me that made you smile, and made you breathless. I couldn’t understand how anyone would let you go when I would have given anything to have you.”
Darcy leaned over to kiss Jack again. “Jack?”
“Hmmm…” He mumbled against her lips. “Yeah?”
“I want you to have me, and I want you to have me now.” Her eyes were wide and dark with desire.
His voice was gravelly when he spoke, “Darcy I will give you anything you ask for.”
At that, he sat up on his knees and stripped his shirt off. Darcy's hungry gaze followed his movements, and he smirked. "Like what you're seeing?"
“I’d like to see a lot more.” He could hear the smile in her sultry voice.
Darcy reached up to tug Jack's shirt off of herself and pulled Jack back down in top of her.