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“You beeped me?” Darcy said, glancing up from her tablet as she shuffled into Coulson’s office wearing her Blue Sun t-shirt over a pair of dark jeans, and heavy black boots. Her iPod was shoved into her pocket, one earbud in and the other one dangling down. “You’re not Son of Coul.”

“Agent Ward,” he smiled, eyes raking over her. Darcy’s eyes narrowed behind her glasses. “Do you have the updated files from the lab, Miss...?”

“It’s Agent Lewis comma Darcy, level seven, and I don’t have any files. At least nothing for you,” Darcy said, flicking her gaze back down to her tablet dismissively.

“My apologies for my assumption you were one of the lab monkeys. You know, like Fitz Simmons,” said Agent Ward.

“I love the smell of misogyny in the morning. So you’re who Son of Coul picked for his new play group. I’d say it’s a pleasure to meet you but...nope I’ve got nothing,” she said in her best nonplussed tone, holding out her hand. Ward didn’t shake it. Darcy shrugged and yanked her earbud out of her ear and switched off her iPod.

“What exactly do you do as a level seven?”

“Seriously, you work for a secret government agency that has Natasha Romanoff and Agent Hill on the books and you are going to judge my ability as an agent because I got called out to get to headquarters with my go bag at three in the morning and haven’t had a chance to pour myself into a cat suit. You can go f—”

“Nice of you to join us, Agent Lewis,” Sitwell said with a slightly amused look as he and Coulson stepped into the office, followed by agent Cho.

“As I mentioned on the phone, Lewis, we have a problem,” Coulson said as he played a video on the overhead monitor. “London, two weeks after the Battle of New York.” The quality was grainy, CCTV at its finest, men moving two large bulky objects into the back of ‘Carpe Deim’ fish and chip shop. One of the crates fell over on its side spilling the contents onto the street. A Chitauri arm including a weapon and a larger bulky item wrapped in stained cloth.

“Ew! Gross, dude,” Darcy muttered under her breath.

“Agents were sent to retrieve the alien tech. They failed,” Coulson frowned. Sitwell shifted beside Darcy but he remained silent. Most of the agents that worked under Coulson did not like to mention the time when Coulson was ‘dead’. “And this was taken two days ago in Paris.” This time the video is less grainy, the boxes being moved out of a refrigerated truck and into an apartment building. It was the same men.

“I thought there were only forty-seven listed items of alien tech that were later recovered. And I didn’t know that—totes above my pay grade Agent Coulson, sir.”

“There’s a lovely little patisserie nearby that has the best macarons,” Sitwell mused.

“Your assignment is to retrieve the weapons tech and neutralise the situation,” Coulson said, handing Sitwell a file. “Lewis and Cho are with you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I am so bringing you the tackiest souvenir for your office. It needs a bit more...personality to it,” Darcy grinned, tilting her head to the side towards the vintage framed poster of Captain America shilling war bonds. She’d never tell Coulson that she was a little jealous of his collection nor the way Steve shied away from all knowledge of his collection.

“And me, sir?”

“You have paperwork to finish, Agent Ward,” Coulson said, and Darcy bit her lip to keep from bursting into laughter over the sour look on Ward’s face. Darcy filed out of the office after Sitwell and Cho, pausing to wrap the earbud cord more firmly around her iPod.

"Don't even think about it, Ward," Coulson said. Darcy froze, eyes wide.

"She's hot...for a nerd," Ward said. The obvious smirk in his voice had Darcy’s fingers itching for her taser.

"Her boyfriend is better than you, Ward,” Coulson said dryly. “Trust me when I tell you that she wouldn’t be interested.”

Smirking, Darcy hurried after Sitwell and headed for the bank of elevators that led to the awaiting transport.


The flight was uneventful save for a brief glimpse of Paris lit up in a gap through the cloud cover. It was breathtaking and romantic, and turned Darcy’s thoughts to Steve as they disembarked the plane and shuffled into the back of an unmarked van. God, the clichés of working for a formerly secret government agency were a little heartbreaking at times.

It was roughly four hours and twenty minutes shy of a week since she had seen his stupid pretty face. She was absolutely not going to pine after him. She was an agent; she had shit to do and most of that didn’t include thinking about Steve Rogers training at Avengers boot camp. Of course trying not to think about him made her think about him all the more and that’s when her phone started vibrating in her pocket.

Steve’s name was lit up across the screen and Darcy swiped her thumb across to answer before Sitwell could say anything. “What’d you blow up this time?”

“Not a damn thing,” Steve rumbled in her ear, and Darcy couldn’t keep her face neutral. “Where are you?”

“Can’t say. You don’t have clearance for that yet,” Darcy smirked. She was never, ever going to get over being up a clearance level from him.

“Assignment,” Steve said. “When do you get back?”

“You’re home?”

“Yeah, jus’ me an’ the cat.”

"Look, I gotta go, Sitwell’s giving me the stink eye," Darcy said before she let slip how much she missed him, maybe just how much she already loved him. It wasn’t time for that. Not really. Not yet.

“Watch your six, Darce.”

“I will.”

“When you get back I’m keeping you in bed for a week,” Steve said and her breath caught in her throat.

“Bye,” Darcy said and ended the call.

"Will that be the end of your personal calls with The Captain, Agent Lewis?" Sitwell asked, the capital letters clearly stated. Shit.


“Possible hostiles in your vicinity,” said far too calm a voice over the com.

“You’re shitting me,” Darcy said, working as fast as she could to recover the hard drive from the computer case she was taking apart. She didn’t know the voice personally, though from Cho’s bitch face he certainly did, but resented the unreasonably calm tone when the assignment was going south fast.

“Language, Agent Lewis,” Sitwell said, amused, from behind her back.

“You’re not my dad,” Darcy snarled, brushing her fingers over her sidearm. “Whoever said working vacations were fun is a lying liar who lies.”

“You wanted glamour and tacky souvenirs from foreign lands.”

“And you promised us pastries, Sitwell. I’m not seeing them,” Cho said as he changed clips on his sidearm.

“I’m telling Son of Coul,” Darcy whined, shoving the hard drive in her bag. Sitwell stepped out of the adjoining room carrying a heavy grey case with what she presumed held the Chitauri weapon inside.

“If you keep whining there will be no ice cream on the trip home,” Sitwell said, and Cho snorted and aimed out the open doorway.

“We’re good, Sitwell. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”

“Is the hall all clear?” Cho asked as the windows imploded, sending chunks of glass flying across the room. Men in dark camouflage with full face masks poured through the windows.

Darcy scrambled behind a desk gripping her weapon tightly as she scrubbed at the blood dripping from a cut above her eye. What Would Coulson Do? sparked across her mind, but there was little time to think with bullets spraying the walls.

“Cho, secure an exit route,” Sitwell said as he opened the bulky grey case.

“Posez votre arme,” screamed one of the goons waving his generic assault rifle in an arc between Darcy and Sitwell.

“Is this a bad time to say I flunked out of French my junior year?” Darcy said, aiming at the nearest goon. Her bullet hit the side of his neck and he crumpled to the ground, blood pooling beneath him.
“Putain, fais chier,” shouted one of the nearest goons. That phrase Darcy knew.

“It’s in your file,” Sitwell said. “Get down.” Darcy wasn’t quick enough ducking back behind the desk when Sitwell fired the Chitauri weapon towards the middle of the room. She was knocked back against the wall as bits of debris rained down on her. Darcy blinked plaster dust from her eyes as Sitwell grabbed her by the arm and hauled her to her feet; his free hand held the Chitauri weapon ready to fire again.

“I can speak Spanish, Farsi, and swear in Mandarin though,” Darcy muttered under her breath.

“Also in your file.”

“Do you think agent Romanoff will teach me to swear in Russian?”

“No,” Sitwell said aiming the weapon back into the room. “Say goodbye, Lewis.”

“Hasta la vista, tête de gland!” Darcy said cheerfully, and Sitwell discharged the alien weapon as they bolted down the hall after Cho.


“Okay, uh, I’m lost...I’m angry...and I’m armed,” Darcy said, rubbing her hands on a rag. The blood doesn’t rub off, just sits in the cracks and creases of her hands, under her nails as they huddled together on the rooftop. “FYI, I don’t think I will ever want to try steak tartar.”

“You’re not funny, Lewis,” Cho hissed out a laugh. He pressed his hand over the wound on his side.

“I’m fucking hilarious, ask anyone.”

“And if I asked Captain America?” Cho said with a smirk, and Darcy froze.

“Lewis, report,” Sitwell said through the com as he peeked around the corner of the adjacent air conditioning unit he was using for cover.

“Yeah, yeah I know,” Darcy grimaced. The building rumbled beneath their feet and Cho groaned, his boot scraping over the pebbled surface of the roof. “Look, I’ve taped up Cho’s bullet wound. You owe me a new roll of Avengers duct tape—,”


“Well the Hello Kitty tape was far too happy for taping over bullet wounds. Cho has half a clip and I have a full clip. Now what?”

“Now we wait for our ride home,” Sitwell said. “If the building doesn’t collapse beneath us first.”


“I never got you a tacky souvenir...or chocolate. There should always be chocolate,” Darcy said as Coulson made his way across the plane to where she was curled up, pen tapping on the edge of her clipboard.

“Wheels up in five,” Coulson said and Darcy continued to fill out paperwork while awkwardly holding a cold compress to her cheek. “I’ve taken the liberty of informing Captain Rogers you are on the way home to HQ.”

"What?” Darcy blinked. “Oh God, why would you do that? Steve just got home today. He didn’t need to know everything went FUBAR. He's going to kill me."

"I'm not going to kill you. Though, I feel I should say something about the city block you just blew up." Steve said, his voice crackling through the com. Darcy blinked rapidly, fighting off tears. No time to get emotional. There was never a good time for that in her opinion.

“He’s also on the com,” Coulson said with a nod and that funny little smile he got whenever he talked about Steve.

"It wasn't a block it was an apartment building. And an abandoned one before you say anything about civilians, Captain."

"I don’t give a fuck about the building, Darce. You okay?"

“Yeah, I’m fine. Cuts and what will be some stellar bruises later,” Darcy replied, swiping at the wetness on her cheeks. She didn’t mention she was half terrified they weren’t going to make it off the roof. Or that she was pretty sure she killed a man tonight. “Cho’s pretty bad. They’re working on him now...” Darcy took a deep breath, counted the spaces between heartbeats. “I...I miss you.”

“I know.”

The plane touched down hours later. Darcy trailed after the two S.H.I.E.L.D. medics that pushed Cho in a sleek stretcher. The sunlight was bright and warm and felt far too cheerful after the mission.

“Your boyfriend’s here, Lewis,” Cho said as he was rolled off the plane and onto the tarmac towards a waiting SUV.

Darcy’s steps faltered. “Oh,” she said, looking up from her tablet. Steve leaned against a grey car, arms crossed over his chest, sunglasses obscuring his face as he talked with Coulson.
“You gonna go see him or just stand there,” Cho asked with a wince that had one of the medics fussing over his bandaged side. Cho batted the medic’s hands away with a scowl that would make Hill proud.

“I’m...,” Darcy said, voice trailing off. “I’m not going anywhere until you’re in the infirmary, Alex.”

“Hendrix and Lassiter patched me up good and I’m far too pretty to die from a little bullet wound. Besides, don’t you have to turn in your report to Coulson? The one I’m far too injured to fill out for myself. ”

Darcy rolled her eyes. There really wasn’t anything else to say. Her heart sped up when Steve turned his head. She couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses but she felt his focus shift from Coulson to her. Her belly flipped and her knees felt watery and it was a struggle to keep her pace steady and not run into his arms.

“Agent Coulson, my report,” she said, holding the tablet out in Coulson’s direction.

“Darcy,” Steve said, and wrapped his arms around her. Her feet barely touched the ground. Darcy clutched at Steve’s shirt, the bubble of tension in her chest eased as he brushed his mouth on her cheek. Her nails scraped against the leather of his jacket, and she breathed in the scent of the leather, cologne, and peppermint shampoo. Her peppermint shampoo.

“I’m okay,” she breathed, tilting her head, and pressed a swift kiss to his lips. Steve sighed against her mouth, angled his jaw, tongue flicking out to trace her lips. The tip of his tongue touched hers and Darcy melted.

Coulson coughed politely. “Good day, Captain Rogers.”

“Coulson,” Steve nodded, letting Darcy slip back down on her heels.

“I’ll see you at 0900 tomorrow, Agent Lewis.”

“Monday,” Steve said in his I-am-Captain-America-you-will-not-argue-with-me-or-I-will-shove-my-shield-where-the-sun-don’t-shine-sir voice.

“Monday,” Coulson nodded, lips twitching.

“Where do you want to go, doll,” Steve asked.

Darcy focused on the teeth of Steve’s jacket zipper, and not Coulson’s indulgent grin or Steve’s worried look. Steve’s hand was warm on the small of her back and the more she focused on that the more her eyes stung. “Take me home.”


A cloud of steam billowed out around Darcy as she opened the bathroom door. She tucked the towel tightly around herself and padded over to Steve, stretched out on the bed in his favourite tan sweats and a soft white t-shirt. Canary was curled up in a tight ball on his belly purring contentedly, and Steve held a worn paperback in his hand. “Hi.”

“Hey,” he said, scratching the top of Canary’s head before moving to scoop the cat up.

“Leave her,” Darcy said, crawling up onto the bed and stretching out on her stomach. “Mmmm.”

“You okay?” Steve asked, reaching over to lay his hand over her back.

“I’m clean. That’s better,” she said, pushing her wet hair out of her face to look at Steve.

“Damn it, no claws,” Steve said.

“Didn’t use any yet.”

“Not you,” Steve huffed out a laugh. He picked Canary up and dropped her down on the bedspread between them. The cat twitched her tail, meowed once in protest and stalked off the bed. “I guess that told me.” Steve rolled over onto his side, reaching up to trace the pads of his fingers lightly over the bandaged cut on her forehead and the bruise that had bloomed on her cheekbone. The worry line was back between his brows and his jaw clenched hard.

“Stop worrying. I’m ’fine now. It’s just a few cuts and bruises. I can handle myself. I’m a good agent.”

“I know you can yourself and I know you’re a good agent. Knew it before I agreed to the first assignment with you...that may not have turned out the way I thought it would, but I’m glad it did. You being a competent agent is not gonna stop me worryin’,” Steve said in that solemn way that made Darcy’s heart ache. He slid his hand to the back of Darcy’s neck and pressed a soft kiss to her temple above the bandage. His calloused fingers rubbed into the back of her neck and Darcy practically purred at the touch.

"Mmmm, that's nice," Darcy murmured. Her eyes closed as the warmth of his hand seeped into her skin. Steve shifted beside her, pulling his hand away to open the bedside table drawer. "Don't stop."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Steve chuckled as he pulled a small blue glass bottle from the drawer. Steve straddled her thighs, tugged the towel away from her body, and pushed her damp hair over her shoulder and out of the way.

"You have massage oil?" Darcy asked, looking over her shoulder. She made a mental note to snoop in his drawers more. It’s not that she hadn’t wanted to look, but time was...well, for lack of a better phrase, time was precious. Neither S.H.I.E.L.D nor superheroing held office hours and their time together was better spent.

Steve shrugged and poured oil into his cupped palm. "M'skin itches when I heal after an injury. It helps," he said. He rubbed his hands together, drops of oil spilling onto her skin. The scent of lavender and bergamot rose from the oil and Darcy hummed happily as Steve’s hands skimmed up her back. “Tell me if I’m too rough, okay?”

“Kay,” Darcy nodded. She already knew Steve had very talented hands but this was new. The tension in her back slowly eased as he rubbed circles into her skin, loosening her muscles. “God, Steve, your hands...,” she said. Steve hummed as he worked the knots out of her lower back with careful pressure. Darcy relaxed under Steve’s touch, eyes closed and hands tangled in the bedspread.

Steve’s hands glided down over her ribs, the calloused pads of his fingers brushed against the sides of her breasts and back to her hips. Heat stirred in her belly. Steve shifted behind her, scooting further down to bed to massage the backs of her legs, his thumbs rubbing her inner thighs. Darcy moaned, low in her throat, and spread her thighs further apart. “Like that, is it?” he asked, slipping his hand up to run the backs of fingers between her legs.

“Want you,” Darcy said, rolling her hips to get his hand where she wanted. He parted her folds with his fingers, tracing her with a teasing touch that had her digging her nails into the sheets. Steve arched over her, kissed her shoulder and murmured in her ear as he circled her clit.

His teeth scraped lightly over her shoulder and he trailed the tips of his fingers to her entrance, teasing her lightly. “Please,” Darcy whined, tilting her hips. Steve eased his fingers into her. It wasn’t enough and Darcy whimpered.

“So wet for me,” Steve said.

“God, Steve,” she moaned as he withdrew his fingers to circle her clit. Over and over.

“You gonna come for me,” Steve rumbled in her ear. If there was one thing better about Steve than his hands, it was his mouth and that deep rumble that ripped through her. Steve whispered low into her ear, lips brushing her earlobe, and trailed kisses down her neck to her shoulder.

“Steve,” Darcy cried as she came apart. Black and red burned behind her tightly closed eyes. Steve worked her through it, mouth hot on her shoulder. His fingers circled round and round until she couldn’t take any more. “Too much,” Darcy murmured, closing her legs on his hand. Steve stilled his movements and slowly dragged his hand away.


“ good.”

“You get some sleep,” Steve said softly. He kissed her cheek, dragging the calloused pads of his fingers along her spine, and rolled to his feet leaving Darcy alone on the bed.

“Wait,” Darcy said, turning her head and reached out to grab the hem of his t-shirt. Steve stopped, half turning to face her. “Where do you think you’re going?” Steve swallowed hard, throat muscles working with the motion. Darcy arched a brow and looked pointedly at the bulge tenting his faded sweatpants.

“The shower,” Steve said thickly. Darcy released his shirt to trail her hands down the rigid length of his cock through the cotton of his sweats.

“I don’t like that idea. Want you inside me,” Darcy said, fingers rubbing over the damp spot on his pants.

“Darce,” he groaned and covered her hand with his. “You’re exhausted.”

“You’ll totally have to do all the work but I want this. I want you,” Darcy said, squeezing his cock. Steve hissed, and she grinned, licking her lips.

“Stay on your stomach,” Steve said, pulling her hand away from his dick. He reached up to pull his shirt off by the back of the neck, the muscles in his belly moving beneath his smooth skin.
“Shiny,” Darcy beamed. Steve dropped his shirt on the floor and hooked his thumbs into his sweats, shucking them off along with his boxers and Darcy’s breath caught at the sight of him. She’s pretty damn sure she will never get tired of naked Steve. “God, you’re beautiful.”

“Me or my cock?” Steve asked, lips twisting up into a smirk that was overshadowed by the blush that rose up his neck and curled across his cheekbones. Darcy spluttered out a laugh and buried her face in her arm. She hissed when the movement pressed on a livid bruise on her arm.

Darcy knew he hated compliments. It was the one thing that seemed to unnerve him the most. It was something they had in common. Despite the nearly seventy years between them they had a lot more in common than either realized when they started this...whatever this was between them. Love. The word surfaced in her thoughts, curled on her tongue, until she swallowed it down.

“Captain,” Darcy whined, reaching out to wrap her hand around his dick. She rubbed her thumb over the crown of his cock, smearing the bead of pre-cum on the tip. Steve’s hips jerked forward, a curse spilling from his lips. He pushed her hand away and grabbed a condom from the drawer. Steve tore the packet, giving his cock a squeeze, and rolled the condom on.

The bed dipped when Steve knelt on it. His skin was hot where they touched as he straddled her spread thighs, and his hands slid along her back sending shivers down her spine, sparks of want under her skin. “You sure?”

“Yes,” Darcy said, reaching back to touch his thigh. Her nails scraped over his skin and Steve shifted, muttering something under his breath she couldn’t parse out. The head of his cock pushed her lips apart. Darcy gasped, tangled her hand in the pillowcase above her head, and focused on the feel of him stretching her.

“Goddamn,” Steve groaned, and she could feel his cock twitch within her. “You okay?” Darcy didn’t answer, wasn’t sure she could find the words. She clenched around him tightly, and Steve’s hips jerked forward, pressing himself deeper. “M’not gonna last if you do that,” Steve growled, and Darcy hid her grin in the blankets. He withdrew from her, achingly slow, and Darcy’s grin dissipated on a whimper.

Steve leaned over her, one hand sliding up her back to settle on the bed beside hers. His thumb rubbed over the back of her hand as he fucked into her, the tension building with each slow roll of his hips. Darcy’s nails bit into Steve’s thigh and the cotton bedding under her hands. “Please,” she begged. Steve burrowed his hand beneath her hips, the pads of his fingers pressing a slow circle on her clit. He kissed her shoulder, tongue swirling on her skin. He rocked in and out of her with that same maddeningly slow pace. “Steve, please.”

A curse spilled from Steve’s lips and he pressed his forehead to her shoulder, tangling their hands together as the heat of his body poured into her skin. Steve thrust deep into her, groaning low in his throat, fingers stilling on her clit as he came, cock pulsing within her. He panted, muttering curses into her skin as he shifted his hips back and withdrew from her. Darcy whimpered at the loss, tossed her head on the corner of the pillow.

Her toes curled, and she rolled her hips as much as she could underneath his heat and weight. “Darce,” he said raggedly, squeezing her hand. Steve nipped at her neck, the pads of his fingers rough on her clit. She clutched tight around him as orgasm rolled over her, his name half formed on her tongue, vision spotted with dark blooms. His fingers worked her until she muttered ‘no more’ into the pillows.

“We should order something in,” Steve said. Darcy shook her head and curled tighter around his body.

“Not yet, don’t wanna move,” she grumbled, resting her chin on Steve’s chest to look up at him. Steve rubbed his hand over her back, a lazy smile lighting up his face, and carded his fingers through her tangled hair. God, she loved that smile, the way his heat seeped into her bones, and just him. She pressed a kiss to his chest, hiding her face in the fall of her hair, shifted her thigh between his legs to rub against his half hard cock.

“Missed this,” Steve said lowly, sliding his hand down to the curve of her ass and squeezed firmly. Darcy rolled her hips against him, and Steve’s belly growled.

“Okay, okay I get the picture,” Darcy laughed, lifting herself up to hover over Steve, hands pressed into the pillow on either side of his head. She kissed his sheepish smile and grinned down at him as his hands skimmed up her sides and his gaze dropped to her breasts. “Eyes up here, soldier.”

“Sorry,” Steve grinned unrepentantly, and his belly rumbled again. “Damn. Promise I’ll make it up to you later.”

“Is that a promise from Captain America or Steve Rogers?”

“Which would you rather it be?”

“Well I—,” Darcy said, words cut off by the sound of something crashing down the hall and Canary skittering into the bedroom, yowling, tail puffed up like a bottlebrush. The cat jumped onto the bed and burrowed under a corner on the blanket beside Steve’s shoulder. “Dude, your cat is crazy.”

“Shhh,” Steve said at the same time a muffled ‘shit’ was said down the hall. “Stay here,” Steve mouthed, pressing a quick kiss to the side of Darcy’s mouth as he slid out of the bed and quickly pulled on a pair of grey sweat pants. Darcy narrowed her eyes as Steve crept barefoot across the bedroom floor and through the doorway.

“Yeah, right,” Darcy said to Canary. The cat didn’t reply though her fur ticked Darcy’s hip as the cat moved closer to her under the blanket. Darcy pushed the blanket off her legs and grabbed Steve’s shirt from the back of his desk chair, haphazardly buttoning it as Steve’s voice rumbled down the hall. He didn’t sound happy at all. Shit.

Darcy didn’t think twice before she opened the bedside drawer and pulled her weapon from the holster, flicking the safety off. “Stay here,” she whispered to Canary. The cat, being a cat, ignored her and leapt off the bed, circling around Darcy’s heels as she stepped out into the hall.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Steve said in his angry captain voice. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as Darcy hesitated in the hall shadows, not quite ready to step into the pool of light from the open door. Canary trotted down the hall ahead of her into the living room. Stupid cat.

“Looks like our captain’s getting some pussy after all,” said an altogether too cheerful voice. It took her a moment to recognize the voice of Tony Stark. Seriously? Darcy flicked the safety back on and held her weapon at her side as she stepped into the room. She expected Stark, not the whole Avengers team to be lounging around Steve’s cozy living room, or for Steve to be embracing another man. Tall, blonde, ugly plaid shirt...

“You didn’t tell me Thor was back,” Darcy exclaimed.

“I thought I said stay in the other room,” Steve said as he stepped back from Thor’s bear hug.

“Yeah, like I was ever gonna listen to that,” Darcy snapped back.

“Lady Darcy,” Thor boomed and grinned down at her. Darcy caught sight of Steve’s uncomfortable grimace as Thor scooped her up into a massive hug.

“Okay that’s enough big guy, I’m bruised enough as it is,” she murmured. In retrospect her words may not have been the best phrased from the way Thor carefully set her down on her feet and swung his gaze to Steve.

“Steven,” Thor rumbled, and Darcy tried not to dissolve into laughter at how thundery his voice could be at times. Now was not the time for humor, if it ever was.

“No no, not like that. I’m an agent now. You know like Son of Coul, though mostly I do the really boring techy stuff...occasionally I get to badass it. A little bit anyway,” Darcy said, stepping in front of Steve as she tugged the shirt down over her ass. Thor ignored her, focusing entirely on Steve. “Seriously, enough with the macho bullshit. Do you think I’m not capable of tasing Steve in the balls if he ever did something I didn’t want? He's like the best guy. He’s fucking Captain America.”

“Pretty sure that would be you, Princess Buttercup,” Stark said.

Darcy sighed and in her level best impersonation of Coulson said, “Good evening, Mr. Stark.”

“You’re adorable,” Tony grinned holding up his Starkphone. He snapped a series of pictures and started rapidly typing.

“Stark,” Steve growled out. His hand landed on Darcy’s hip, warm through the cotton though his eyes never left Thor.

“Agent Darcy Lewis...level seven, one of Coulson’s little pets...newly updated S.H.I.E.L.D. form 7A WF 83429* and you too Captain Stubing,” Tony rattled off.

“Stark,” Steve said in his deep captain-y rumble.

“You know Fury’ll be pissed if you’re fucking with the files again, Stark,” Darcy said, and Tony waved his hand dismissively.

“Do tell us about your epic office romance?” Tony asked.

“Um, we’re dating,” Darcy said with a shrug, glad Steve was behind her because she wasn’t sure she could look at his face in that moment.

“Ow, fuck,” Barton said at the same time Canary meowed loudly and stalked across the room to twine between Steve and Darcy’s legs. “Your cat’s a freaking psychopath.”

“Oh my god, how can you work with these people,” Darcy said, failing to hide her laughter.

“I don’t work with them. I give them orders they fail to comply with...same as you,” Steve said as he pulled her back into his chest.

“Ha,” Darcy grinned, tilting her head back to look at Steve over her shoulder. There was a smirk on his face but the worry line between his brows was still present. “Right, so as swell as all this is... I’m going to go put some pants on and not be half naked in front of Earth’s Mightiest Heroes, m’kay? It’s just a little bit too much.” Darcy tugged her shirt down and pulled away from Steve.

“I’m gonna grab a shirt,” Steve said as he followed after her down the hall, Canary weaving between his feet.

“No time for hanky-panky,” Stark called out.

Steve glowered and Darcy wrapped her hands around his wrist and shouted, “No promises.”