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we can't rewind; we've gone too far (80's Song Prompts)

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“You said there’s a difference between having sex and making love?”  Pietro asked, reaching for her hand and pulling it up to his lips.  His stubble tickled her skin as he pressed a kiss to her knuckles.  “Show me that difference…”  

Darcy grinned and tugged her hand back.  “You have to be in love,” she said wistfully.  “Like, in love with the person you’re doing it with…because fucking is like...fucking is great.  Having sex is great.  When you’re with someone you trust, and they know all the buttons to push?  It’s amazing...” she trailed off.  “But making love is a different animal altogether…”

“I push your buttons?” he asked, grinning mischievously.  “I enjoy pushing them.”  

She giggled and nodded.  “You are excellent at pushing my buttons. And it’s never boring.  You switch it up and I appreciate the hell out of that…”  

“You are excellent at pushing mine as well.”  

“I should hope so.  I reckon not many girls would push that one.   You know the one, you dirty birdie…”  She winked and he leaned down to capture her lips.  

He hummed against her, his hand running through her hair.  “I cannot thank you enough for pushing that one…”  

“Seriously, not a big deal.  I promise.”  

His lips met hers again.  “Make love to me…” he murmured.   

She couldn’t help but smile.  He was absolutely her favorite.  “You have to be in love,” she repeated.  “And we’re…”  

“Are you not in love with me, princeza?”  

She faltered, thrown off by his bluntness.  “Yes.  I am,” she answered genuinely.  The truth wasn’t so hard to tell after all. It was what came after.  

“So what is the problem?”  

“You aren’t in love with me…” she said softly, almost a whisper. The ache in her chest was acute and sharp.  “It’s completely fine that you aren’t...it is,” Darcy insisted.  Contrary to what that ache was telling her.

He inhaled, his hands moving through her hair, pushing it back from her face as he tilted her head.  “Oh Darcy…Darcy…” He kissed her deeply.  “I forget that you don’t speak Sokovian...and that my English isn’t so good when you’re... pushing my buttons… ”  

One of his hands smoothed down her back, wrapping around her waist to pull her closer.  He whispered some of the things she only heard when he was inside her, when he was thrusting into her, slick and hot and hard.  

“Potreban si mi. Želim te... it means…’I need you...I want you’. Pietro rumbled against her neck, his lips pressing soft kisses up the column of her throat.

“Pietro…” she sighed, her hands tangling in his hair.  “Pietro…”  

Volim te, Volim te svom svojom dušom…”   She heard those a lot.  A whole lot.  “‘ Volim te’ means I love you, Darcy…I love you with all my soul…because I feel you down here…” He pressed his hand over his heart.  “In my heart, but further...further, deeper.  You’re here…” He thumped his chest.  “That’s where you are, moja princeza…”  

“Piet…” she whispered, feeling tears begin to crest and drip down her cheeks.  “I love you…”  

Poljubi me,” he pleaded.  

“What does that--”  

Kiss me .”  

So she did.  She pressed her lips against his. “I’m so sorry, Pietro, I didn’t…”  

I am sorry...I should have made sure you knew…”  He tilted his head and brushed the hair out of her face. “Now...show me how to make love to you, Darcy…”  

“I think I might be the one who needs to know how…” she countered.  “Considering I had no idea you were in love with me…”  

He stood from the couch they were sitting on, bending to slip his arms beneath her, hoisting her up with him.  “I think it starts by taking you to my bed…”

One of the fantastic perks about being in a relationship with Pietro was that there was literally no waiting for anything.  Nothing at all.  One second they were in the living room, the next, she was bouncing back on his bedspread, and he was crawling up towards her.  

“FRIDAY, mood lighting?” he asked, glancing up at the ceiling as the lights dimmed appropriately.  He smirked.  “Perfect…”  

His fingers, normally lightning fast and dexterous when it came to undressing her, were painstakingly slow in popping open the buttons on her blouse, allowing the silky fabric to fall open, baring her to his gaze.  

Pietro nuzzled her breasts from underneath, nosing against the lace of her bra and humming.  

Darcy tugged up on the hem of his t-shirt, peeling it from his back and revealing the great expanse of toned muscle that was his upper body.  He was a work of art.  Sculpted just for her.  

“Oh my blob...you are so beautiful…” she murmured, her mouth opening in a soft moan when he brushed his lips over a nipple.  

“You can’t even see me from there…” he teased.  

“But I know you’re there and you’re gorgeous…” she countered.  

Smirking, he pushed up a little so she could see him, reaching down to undo the button and zip on her pants in the process.  

He tugged her pants down over her hips, revealing her inch by torturous inch, his eyes feasting on each centimeter of skin that was revealed.  “ You are the gorgeous one...you could...adorn temples...you could be worshipped…you should be worshipped....”  

“Nah…” she shook her head.  “Being worshipped wouldn’t work for me...those temple people like to get up at the ass crack of dawn.  I need my beauty rest if I’m going to keep this up…”  

Chuckling, he spread her thighs slightly, just enough to fit his head between them.  He lowered enough to where he could press an open mouthed kiss over her satin-covered mound.  “I guess you’ll have to make do with only me worshipping you, then…”  

Her breath caught in her throat, her body aching for his touch as he nuzzled her through the fabric, inhaling deeply and humming in contentment.  Like she was the thing he’d been searching for.  Like she smelled better than anything else.  Like he was...he was…

He pressed her thighs a little further apart and mouthed over her, the heat from his breath only serving to make her want more.  

Like he was worshipping her.  

“Oh god...Pietro…”  

His fingers played with the scalloped edges of her panties , right there where he’d been nuzzling her earlier.  “I promise I can worship you on your time...there is no reason a goddess like yourself should have to interrupt her schedule…”  

“I…” she whimpered when his fingers brushed along her slick folds, tugging the panties out of the way so he could look at how much he was teasing her.  Turning her on. 

Making her wet.  

“You what?”  

“I want you...please…” she pleaded, desiring nothing more than to feel the delicious stretch as he filled her.  To hear the bed knock back against the wall behind them.  He was so good at that.  

“I’ve barely touched you…” he said with a smile, his eyes dancing.  

“Please, Pietro…”  

He tugged down on her panties, casting them aside; the rest of her clothing followed suit.  He pushed down the waistband of his track pants, kicking those off and onto the floor.  

Reaching for her hand, he coaxed her into a sitting position, one he mirrored before tugging her into his lap.  

She hissed when he entered her, the angle pressing perfectly against her g-spot, the ache in her clit satisfied by the way she brushed against him with every downward thrust.  

He supported her weight as she rose and fell on top of him.  His lips teased her nipples, and he kept the pace slow and steady.  

She brushed her hair back from her face so she could kiss him.  Her thighs burned with every downstroke, her body quivering with sensation as he worked her closer and closer.  “I love you…” she murmured, squeezing her walls around him, feeling him tense when she did.  “You feel so good…”  

“Darcy…” he rasped, sounding more and more wrecked with every movement.  “Darcy, I love you, moja princeza.”  

She let her nails scrape lightly down his back, he arched against her, whispering things under his breath.

Breathing fast and heavy, she rose and sank down on him, drawing more and more sounds from him, grunts and groans.  

Her orgasm washed over her suddenly, taking her by surprise.  She shook, her rhythm faltering, the tempo staggering as she let the sensations flood over her.  

He must have followed her soon after, because before she knew it, he was holding her close, pulled tight against him so she couldn’t move, her name a soft sigh on his lips as he shivered.  

She gulped down air, wrapping her arms around his back, feeling his fingers stroke along her spine.  “See?” she gasped.  “It’s different.”  

“Not so different,” he mumbled.  “I think I’ve been making love to you for a while now…”  

“Nuh-uh,” she countered.  “The connection wasn’t there.  Not till just now.  Didn’t you feel that?” she shifted in his lap, sitting up so he slid slowly out of her.  “You can’t tell me that connection was there before…”  

“Well…I don’t think we’ve ever come at the same time…” he acquiesced.  “That was different.”  

“And the reciprocated ‘I love you’s’,” Darcy prodded.  “That’s new.”  

Pietro chose that moment to fall back on the mattress, taking her with him.  “I do love you, Darcy.”  

“I know that now …”  She rested her cheek against his chest.  “How many more times are you going to say it? Just...gimme a ballpark figure. So I know what to expect”  

He tilted his head as if deep in thought.  “Something in the millions? Billions, if I can manage it…”  

Chapter Text

“Do you have plans after work, Ms. Lewis?”  

Loki’s question hung there in the air around them.  And it took Darcy a few seconds to realize that the ‘Ms. Lewis’ he was referring to was her .  Loki, Thor’s baby brother (not so much ‘baby’ as ‘not-quite-so-ancient-by-earth-standards’ as Thor) wanted to know if she had plans after work.  

What were words again?  

“No,” she said bluntly, finally answering him and cutting through the tension with her machete of awkward.  It was lucky that he’d approached her when she was alone at her desk.  This significantly cut down on the level of awkward.  

If her labmates weren’t two of the nosiest scientists in the entire world.  

Jane let out a whisper of a sigh and Bruce resumed typing.  

Or maybe she was just imagining that everything had stopped the second Loki spoke to her.  

Maybe if he did it more often -- talked to her, that is -- it wouldn’t be such an earth-stopping event.  But he didn’t.  

She could count on her hand the number of words he’d spoken to her that day, actually...other than the query about her plans.  Pretty much a ‘hello’ when she’d arrived and a muttered ‘excuse me’ when she had to move around him to get at the thing Jane was rapidly and vaguely fluttering her hands at.

Loki was supposedly the silver-tongued prince of Asgard...why wasn’t he using that tongue on her?  

Oh god… she berated herself, in complete disbelief that she’d even so much as thought about that.  

Well, not SO much disbelief.  In addition to being silver-tongued, he was purportedly handsome.  And Darcy could concur.  So much concurring was happening.  Oh holy hell, did the concurring happen.  

But in all honesty?  Darcy was a touch relieved that the younger Odinson -- was it Odinson?  Thor still called him ‘brother’, but there was a little bit of cringing happening on Loki’s part whenever he did -- anyway…She was relieved that Loki didn’t speak to her as often as his nickname would imply.  Mostly because he scared her.  

Not in the ‘former-evil-genius-who-tried-to-enslave-mankind’ way...Thor had pretty much explained what all that mess was about.  Not to minimize the horrible things he’d done in the slightest, but Darcy was around a bunch of people who seemed to have these horrific pasts and one of the best things about her was her ability to look past actions and into the person.  

But she’d done that a little with Loki and he scared her for a different reason. The unbridled-wildness kind of way…

Not that Darcy hadn’t tamed a wild stallion or two in her day...but Loki seemed to be a different breed.  He was one of those things Thor talked about all the time.  A bilgesnipe.  

Or maybe something a little less ugly.  Did they have wild stags on Asgard?  

“Would you like to?”  Loki asked.  Another question.  

Damn, he was all for quadrupling his total spoken word count in her direction today, wasn’t he?  

“To have plans?” she asked, totally delaying the inevitable, where he asked what she was pretty sure he was going to ask and she melted into a puddle of awkward on the floor.  

“Plans...dinner...vigorous love-making...the choice is yours, Ms. Lewis.”  

She could swear Bruce started choking.  And maybe it was a coincidence -- dude didn’t seem to know the meaning of small sips when it came to piping hot tea -- but it didn’t seem like it.  

She drew up her courage from somewhere deep within her.  Somewhere deep.  Like it was deep as fuck, you guys.  Deep, deep down courage.  

She tilted her head, saucily placing her hand on her hip.  “I think if vigorous lovemaking is on the table, you should definitely call me Darcy.”  She winked and added at the end for an extra punch of umph.  “Lokes.”  

He smiled.  Which...up until this point, she hadn’t really seen in its final form.  

Did she say she was scared?  Scared wasn’t the word anymore.  

Hopelessly giddy.  That’s what she was.  

Because Loki’s smile?  In what she hoped was its final form?  Was nothing but downright sexy.  Dude had bedroom eyes for days.  And cheekbones that went all the way, man.  Whatever that meant?  It was true.  

She felt her cheeks flush hot and pink as she stood there.  

“Darcy it is…” he paused for a moment before continuing.  “I’d like to see you tonight…”  

She was biting down on her lower lip to stop herself from grinning.  “See me where?”

His eyes widened infinitesimally.  “I would be forever grateful if you’d allow me to cook you dinner?  If you’d allow me to show you the stars...the galaxies...worlds so much different than the one where you live...worlds that would hold you in the highest regards. Darcy.”  

She arched an eyebrow.  “Maybe let’s start with dinner.  At my place.  I’ll help you cook.  And… in response to the latter part of your statement...declaration...statlaration? I dunno if you’ve noticed?  I’m held in some pretty high regards around here.”  She cocked her head to the side with a smirk.  

“Not high enough,” he countered.  

Ah.  There it was.  The silver tongue.  He wanted something.  

And judging by the look in those eyes of his, that something was Darcy Catherine Lewis.  

“Flattery will get you nowhere.  A nicely cooked steak, though?  That’ll win wars.”  

Loki let out the breath he was holding and conceded.  “Steak it is…”  He squinted skeptically.  “What sort of person doesn’t like flattery?” he asked.  

“The sort who has heard enough of it to realize that it’s only rarely sincere.  The sort of person who already knows all the bullshit you’re trying to tell me.  I know what I am.  I’m a hot, young, voluptuous woman.  I certainly didn’t need you to fall from the sky and fill me in.”  

He smiled again.  Same smile as before.  “I suppose that will save me a lot of time, then.”  

Darcy couldn’t help but return the expression.  He hadn’t gotten all butthurt and horrible.  “I suppose it will.”  

“Dinner at eight?”  

“Not if you expect me to not eat anything beforehand.”  

“Seven?”  

“That’s more like it.”   

Chapter Text

Natasha’s eyes flew open, darting around in darkness until she could discern some shape or another.  She blinked groggily, trying to remember where she was and where she’d fallen asleep.  

What country was this?  

She let her head loll to the side and relaxed once she spotted the bedside table lamp.  It was hideous.  The base looked like a pineapple.  Damn Clint for giving it to them as a housewarming gift.    

The tension left her shoulders.  She was home.  

But she knew even before looking that she wasn’t going to like what the clock told her.  

Three forty-four.  A.M.  

She huffed out a loud sigh and rolled over onto her stomach.  Her arm brushing across the cold empty expanse of mattress to her left.  Natasha wasn’t so naive to expect him to still be there.  

Bucky had an even worse time sleeping than she did.  And she wasn’t exactly holding a world record for consecutive nights without pacing.  Ever since he’d come out of the cryo-sleep in Wakanda, he’d been on edge.  His memories were coming back.  And from the looks of it, not a single good one.    

Swinging her legs over to the side of the bed, she hauled herself up and towards the door.  A glass of water was in order.  

She tried to think back to the last time she’d slept through an entire night, attempting to ignore the blaringly obvious.  That she didn’t like sleeping alone.  That Bucky getting up and leaving in the middle of the night was the cause of her insomnia.  

But it wasn’t as if she could tell him about it.  She couldn’t ask the guy to stay in bed with her at the expense of his own mental wellbeing.  

Of course, she wasn’t really sure what the steps were to ensure her own, either.  Mental well-being was not one of Natasha’s areas of expertise.  

All she knew about self-care was how she instructed other people to indulge.  She didn’t have a clue how to take her own advice.  She didn’t know what her creature comforts were.  She’d never been aware of any.  

Steve was partial to comfort food.  

Bucky liked to be active.  He liked to be moving.  Probably something to do with all that time he spent frozen.   

Natasha let out a ragged sigh and took a sip from her water glass.  When she pushed herself, she could remember her childhood before she became what she was.  She was young.  Very young.  And she wasn’t even sure if it was a memory or just wishful thinking.  

But at their core, both memories and wishful thinking were just chemical reactions in the brain.  So she supposed it didn’t matter.  

All she could feel was warm.  A blanket being tucked around her.  A toy of some kind -- a doll or  a stuffed animal -- being pressed in beside her.  And it had been nice.  So nice.  

One of the nicest feelings she’d ever felt.

She was still holding the glass of water when she heard his key in the door.  

The hinges squealed loudly as it swung open.  She never remembered to lubricate them until the door was open and she was either going somewhere in a hurry or coming home exhausted.  

His gait was heavy, but familiar and calming.  She immediately felt the weight in her shoulders lift.  

“You awake?” he asked.  Obviously a rhetorical question, but Natasha answered it anyway.  

“Looks that way.”  Her tone was a bit more clipped than she realized it would be.  But now it was too late to take it back.  

“Sorry…” he replied, tilting his head momentarily before sitting down to remove his shoes.  “Tried to be quiet.”  

“You were,” she reassured him.  “I just...I can’t sleep when you’re gone.”  

He was quiet for a moment.  So quiet that any regular person might have thought he left.  Or dozed off.  

But Natasha wasn’t a regular person.  And she was highly trained to hear the wheels turning in other people’s heads.  

And the wheels in Bucky’s were turning at full tilt.  

“I…” he faltered.  “It’s the nightmares, Nat...I have to get up and move...and--”  

“I know,” she interrupted him.  “I know you do.  I just...I just thought I’d be honest for once. Just trying it out, let me know how you like it.”  

He stood, leaving his shoes by the couch as he crossed the floor to stand in front of her.  Taking the glass first, depositing it safely on the counter beside them, he wrapped his arms around her waist, tugging her close so she fit right against him -- her head cradled against his shoulder. Her arms linked behind his neck.   

“I’m sorry…” he murmured, swaying her slightly.  Softly.  It almost wasn’t noticeabe.  They could be sitting in a narrow treetop, being moved by the wind.  It was hypnotic and soothing.  

“It’s okay.”  

“No, it’s not.  This isn’t just about me, doll.”  His fingers dragged slowly up her spine.  Her head grew heavy against him and he must have noticed, because he bent slightly and scooped her up into his arms like she weighed nothing.  “We gotta take care of you, too.”  

“You can wake me up when you have them, you know…” she whispered, tightening her hold around his neck.  “You know I don’t mind that.”  

“I dunno if you’d want to hear about my nightmares.”  

She snorted.  “I can guarantee some of them are mine too.”  

“Right?  And ya probably don’t need my mess on top of yours.”  

“Bucky…” Natasha crooned softly against his throat.  “Your mess.  My mess.  It’s just one mess now.”  

“I know, but…”  

“If you don’t want to tell me about them, at least let me know you’re leaving.  I don’t like waking up alone and in the dark…if it wasn’t for that stupid lamp, I wouldn’t even know where I was…” She waved her hand vaguely in the direction of the bedside table.

Bucky smirked as his gaze flitted over to the lamp.  “That’s why I like it, though.  It’s so...mind-numbingly ugly...but it’s home.”  

A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth as he deposited her gently onto the mattress.  “I’m glad you’re back,” she said, stretching her legs out beneath the cool sheets.  

“Me too,” he agreed.  

“I don’t just mean tonight.”

“Me either.”   

Chapter Text

Darcy was nervous.  

And the reasons for her anxiety were threefold.

First off, this was her first big assignment for S.H.I.E.L.D.  She was a fresh agent.  A n00b, if you will.  And here she was shacking up with some dude for an indeterminate amount of time in what would be called witness protection, but this guy wasn’t a witness.  

He was a dead Avenger.  

She was playing house with Pietro Maximoff for the next...foreseeable future.  

Secondly, she’d had to move from her comfy condo in Virginia Beach to this teeny tiny apartment in SoCal.  Seriously, this place was tiny.  It was a one-bedroom for crying out loud.  And it was a fourth floor walk up.  Gag.  

At least the building was pretty.  On each floor, the bricks were painted a different color.  The fourth floor was purple.  

The apartment was that bland beige/white that all apartments are, but outside the door was that purple brick.  

Which brought her to the third reason she was nervous.

Purple bricks just so happened to be one of her clues.  Yep, one of her soulmate clues was purple bricks.  The other two were the smell of garlic and the sound of a doorbell.  

So she was possibly...maybe...most definitely going to meet her soulmate while she was here.  

Pretending to be with some dead guy.  

On her first work assignment.  

Yeah, thanks universe.  Only all the most stressful things were happening to her at the same time.  Moving.  Soulmate.  First day on the job.  

She took a deep breath.  She had this.  As far as she knew, there was no garlic smell going on at all.  So she was in the clear for the soulmate thing.  

For now.  

Also?  She’d only gotten the one shared dream with her soulmate so far.  So she was probably just psyching herself out.  She didn’t even know his name.  He was so jittery in the dream that he’d forgotten to give it to her.  He knew her name, but she didn’t know his.

And she couldn’t meet him without knowing his first name.  So, this was all needless worrying.

Needless worrying exacerbated by the countless facts and figures she’d seen in multiple articles about people who met their soulmates before learning their names.  

Just...relax, Darce.  

The doorbell rang just then.  The same chiming that she’d grown to know from her soulmate clues.  So she was probably most definitely going to meet her soulmate here.  Just not today.  

Because no garlic. There was NO GARLIC.

Darcy took a deep breath and opened the door, ready to greet her new housemate.  Make the most of what was going to surely be an awkward situation.  

She was blasted in the face by an overpowering garlic smell coming from down the hall.

Dammit.

“Oh god…” she mumbled, looking into the silvery blue eyes of Pietro Maximoff.  

He had his hand in his hair, pushing it back out of his face.  “Ježišmarjá…” he murmured.  “It’s you?  You are Darcy?   My Darcy?”  

“Am I?” she asked, tilting her head.  It felt real.  The wham-bam-pow upper cut to her brain.  The hearts and stars and rainbows that exploded from around his head.  Not really ...proverbial hearts, stars and rainbows.  Proverbial Lucky Charms.    

He squinted, peering at her as if maybe he would recognize her if he looked at her hard enough.  “I did not give my name in our dream...it’s Pietro…”

Darcy felt the corners of her mouth pull up into a small smile and she stepped back from the door.  

He hoisted the small duffel bag up on his shoulder as he walked inside.  “This is nice…”  

She shrugged. “It ain’t much, but it’s gonna be home for a while…” she trailed off as she realized just what kind of home this was going to be.  “I’m…”  

He turned to look at her, letting the bag slide down from his shoulder to the floor.  “You have no idea how many times the thought of you has kept me alive, Darcy…”  

The air left her lungs and instead of reaching for him like she should have, her knees gave out and she sat down hard on the arm of the sofa.  “So the reason I haven’t seen you in the dream…”  

He rubbed the back of his head, looking pained and contrite.  Chastised even.  “I made some bad decisions.”  

“Hydra, though?” she whispered, almost in disbelief.  “Dude...not to come across as judgemental...but…”  

“I know, I know...I knew the second we volunteered that it was a mistake…” He zipped around the room in what Darcy recognized as nervous pacing...mach 1 style.  “I regretted it almost immediately, but there was no way out…you have to believe me…”  He turned to face her, looking desperate.  “I had to keep Wanda safe…”  

His sister.  She knew that from the information packet she’d gotten from Maria Hill.  

She swallowed thickly.  He’d probably been poked and prodded.  By both sides.  And he’d been in a coma for four months.  And then when he woke up, he was shipped out here to SoCal as soon as he was able to walk, probably.  He didn’t need her judgement or her reproach.  

He needed her .  And dammit, she’d been waiting long enough.  She needed him too.  

“Pietro...you are…” she smiled.  “So much better than I could have ever dreamed of…”  

He gulped, his shoulders immediately relaxing as he zipped over in front of her.  She reached out to steady herself, her fingers curling around a very toned bicep.  Very toned, despite his four months in a coma.  “Well done, universe…”  she murmured under her breath.  

“I was just thinking the same thing…” he admitted, wrapping his arms around her waist, situating himself closer to her.  “I am sorry we didn’t have more time to get to know each other before now.”  

“This is how we were meant to meet.  It’s perfect,” she assured him. “And to be honest, this is going to make my job so much easier...I was worried about how I was going to handle you…”  

“You are not still worrying, are you?” Pietro teased. “I can show you all the ways I like being handled …”

She smirked, looking up into his eyes again.  She ran her hand along the bristly stubble that was growing along his jaw.  “I’m gonna need you to grow this out…”  

“You like a man with a beard?”

“Well, I was speaking as your undercover agent, not as your soulmate...you should grow it out to disguise your face.”  

He blushed a little, tilting his head down so his face was very close.  “If you were to speak on the same subject as my soulmate?”  

“As your soulmate, and as a woman, I like a man with a beard…” Darcy whispered. “A little brush burn never hurt anyone…”  

He leaned down to kiss her, his breath huffing out against her face as his lips pulled desperately at hers.  

Darcy was still nervous.  But as she pulled Pietro with her over the arm of the couch to lie across it, she realized it was the good kind of nervous.  And her reasons certainly weren’t threefold any longer. 

Chapter Text

Okay, so this was war.  

Darcy Lewis was declaring war on her stodgy downstairs neighbors.  

And she wasn’t going to lose. No matter what she looked like right then.   

They had straight up complained about her to the super.  And while Clint was super nice about the whole thing...Darcy wasn’t about to take this lying down.  She was winning.  Even if she was standing here with wet hair and a towel wrapped around her body in the hallway of her apartment building, she was still winning.

Because she wasn’t a nuisance.  She wasn’t loud.  She was the victim of a series of ridiculous events.  That’s really all this was.  Honest. She was a good neighbor.

The first thing was a simple misunderstanding.  She was having her carpet replaced and she’d left notes on ALL the surrounding neighbor’s doors explaining what was happening.  It wasn’t her fault that her downstairs neighbors hadn’t realized which apartment C-31 was.  Or that it was right over top of them.  In their defense, the apartment numbers in this building were FUBAR as hell and how were they supposed to know that the floors went in reverse alphabetical order?  (Seriously, she couldn’t make this shit up.)  

That first time had resulted in a very angry James Barnes banging on her door at four in the afternoon, raccoon-eyed and tired because he worked third shift and the “gd noise” had kept him up all day.  

Of course, she’d apologized, but she’d still gotten that steely blue side eye from Mr. Barnes.  Two parts sexy, one part murder.  Seriously, the dude had that down.  

The second thing wasn’t even her fault in the slightest, it was a freaking ACT OF NATURE.  

There was a rather humongous wind gust that had blown her bedroom window open.  Now, it might have been her fault that the window was cracked to begin with, sue her for liking a little bit of moving air during the night.  Really, Clint should be blamed for not installing a ceiling fan in her bedroom the billion times she’d asked him to.  

Anywho, humongous wind gust.  Right.  It had blown her window open while she was at work and a stray cat or seven had come in and wreaked absolute havoc on her pot and pan collection.  Also, the cabinet of canned goods.  Pretty much anything heavy that could fall on the floor.  

She came home to a steamed Steve Rogers.   Literally.  If he’d been a cartoon, his face would have been beet red and his theoretical hat would have been blown off the top of his head.  

Perfectly cooked eggs would have been sizzling on his forehead.  

Like, excuse her for not knowing the cast of the Aristocats was going to break into her apartment on the day he had some kind of deadline for a graphic design project.  (Everybody DOESN’T want to be a cat, guys…)  

If Barnes’ side eye had been two-thirds sexy and one-third murder, Steve Rogers’ side eye was pretty much fifty/fifty.  A WHOLE lot more murder in those baby blues.

Half murder, half seven sexy herbs and spices...that was Steve Rogers.  

Okay and this last thing…

Okay, the last thing was totally on her.  She’d gotten pissed and shown her ass.  

Almost literally.  This towel was small.

Ugh, it was a long story.

Now, at this point, they’d taken to banging on the ceiling whenever she happened to want to walk around.  She couldn’t walk from the kitchen to the living room without hearing that trademark muffled ‘thump thump thump ’.  

It was starting to become ridiculous.

Hell, it idled at ridiculous.  

So, Darcy decided that if they were going to be huge douche-canoes about the so-called noise?  She’d give them something to complain about.  

She’d throw a party.  And invite everyone in the building.  Except the two piss-babies in D-21.  

That’d show them.  

It was because of this literal paper invitation, which one of them -- Barnes or Rogers -- had found lying around in the laundry room, that the complaint to the super had happened.  

And it was because of her refusal to back down that made the both of them traipse up to her apartment as she was getting ready for said party.  

And as she rewrapped the towel around her for a third time, she realized what a mistake it was to answer the door wearing nothing but a piece of pink terrycloth.  

“Look...guys…”  Darcy cut off argument number seventy-two (approximately).  “All this boils down to is that you’re jelly you’re not invited, and you’re being super petty about it.  So admit that you want an invite to my super awesome party of champions and then everyone can continue getting ready for the party.”  

Barnes smirked.  “I think all this boils down to, doll , is that you planned an entire party to piss us off.  If anyone’s being petty, it’s you.”  

“Did it work?” she asked, wrapping her arm across her chest.  “Are you pissed off?”  

“Yes!” Barnes countered.  “Yes. Okay?  Yes.”  

“Awesome.  Pettiness level: WORTH IT.  Now, if you’ll excuse me...”

“Look…”  Steve interrupted.  “Look, we know what you’re trying to do, and it’s not going to work.”

Darcy frowned.  “What am I trying to do?”  

“All the noise?  The general un-neighborly behavior?  You’re trying to get us to move so you can buy our apartment.”  

She frowned.  “What now?”  

“Because the building owner...is going to start selling the apartments.  Splitting them up as condos.  You want ours so you can have a downstairs.  We get it.  And honestly, having a two story apartment in this neighborhood would be amazing.  But, we aren’t leaving.”  

It all made sense now...

“Dude.  I have no intention of buying you guys’ apartment out from under you…” she said, shaking her head.  “And for the millionth time?  I’m honestly not that bad of a person.  There were just some really super unlucky things that happened.”  

They both looked reasonably surprised.  

“And the only shitty thing I’ve done...is throw this party and not invite you.”  Darcy pressed her lips together and shook her head.  “And I’m mega sorry for doing that.  So consider the invitation extended.”   

Barnes licked his lips, jamming his hands into his pockets.  “Is everyone wearing towels, or--”

She chuckled.  “Yeah.  It’s a ‘just-showered’ party.  Everyone’s coming with a towel wrapped around them and wet hair.  Food is anything you can eat in the shower. Every twenty minutes, I’ll light a match and hold it up to the sprinklers.  You know.  Get the full effect of a shower.”  

Steve looked down, scraping the toe of his shoe against her welcome mat.  “Need us to bring anything?”  

She shook her head.  “Just you.  And, you know.  Him.”  She jutted her head towards Barnes.  “Steve and...James, is it?”  

“Bucky,” he replied.  “Call me Bucky.”  

“Steve and Bucky.  Come as you are.”      

Chapter Text

Loki had dressed carefully.  He had been told multiple times that this evening was very important.  With extra emphasis on varying words in the same sentence each time he heard it.  

His older ‘brother’s’ engagement party was the talk of the tower and Loki was even less interested in petty conversation that was usual.  

Of course he was happy for Thor.  In whatever drab meaning he could squeeze out of the word. He genuinely liked Ms. Lewis.  She grounded him.  And that wasn’t in any way a pun.  

He simply despised public functions.  He would generally worm his way out.  Being a former supervillain in the eyes of most of the world still held some caché, apparently.  And it was sometimes better that he wasn’t there.  

Certain Midgardians still thought of him as that aforementioned villain.  It made for some uncomfortable situations.  And that was putting it mildly.  

But Thor had insisted he come to this.  And given that it was only close friends and family members of the duo involved, he assumed little to no dramatic bouts of discomfort would occur.  

He’d chosen a grey suit for the occasion.  Black seemed too overbearing.  Or that was what Darcy told him at any rate.  

Charcoal grey was the only budge he would make, however.  It paired well with the green tie and matching oxford.  

He sneered at his reflection in the mirror, however.  He looked more like a stodgy old professor than who he actually was.  

But the bride-to-be wished, so the bride-to-be got.  

And as he made his way down the hall to the elevator, he was already formulating the plan for his eventual escape from the festivities.  Knowing Thor, this would carry on late into the night, and Loki had no intention of being there past ten.  

Two hours was plenty of time to celebrate his ‘brother’ and his engagement.  

He was only a scant few minutes into the party when his plans changed, however.  

He caught her gaze from across the room and very nearly choked on his drink.  

What was the phrase Midgardians used?  She certainly cleans up well?  Dr. Jane Foster certainly cleaned up well.  

She was wearing a stunningly gorgeous dress.  One shoulder bare, revealing the dip of her collarbone and the length of her toned arms.  The skirt fell to mid-thigh, leaving very little to the imagination.  And when she spent her days in jeans and over-sized t-shirts, it was hard to discern the figure underneath.  

And while Loki had certainly grown accustomed to and had noticed Jane’s charms before…

This was almost like he was drowning in them.  

And he had no intention of fighting his way to the surface.  

He crossed the floor with purpose, ducking this way and that around Dr. Banner and Stark.  Side-stepping the Black Widow and Agent Barton.   

All the way across the rather large room to stand beside Jane.

“Enjoying yourself?” he asked, leaning back against the bar where she stood.  

She sipped at her wine and shrugged with feigned nonchalance.  “I suppose.  The wine’s good.”  

“As one would expect, given the extravagance to which Stark is prone…”  

“I assume you’re referring to my former boyfriend announcing his engagement to my assistant?  Is that what you’re rooting around for, Loki?”  she asked, her tone sharp and almost bitter.  

“I didn’t say anything about--”  

“Because I believe I talked about this with you before.  When they started dating.  I’m happy for Darcy.  I’m happy for Thor.  What he and I had was fleeting and forced.”  

Loki made a sound of agreement.  

“And I know I sound bitter, but it’s not about that…” she trailed off.  “I just...my god, why did my date have to cancel?  I’m here to be happy for my friends, but everyone’s looking at me like I'm about to break this glass and threaten Darcy with it...”

He mulled over that for a few moments before replying.  “For what it’s worth, I believe you.”  

“It’s not worth much, but thank you.”  

“And....I believe your date was a fool for cancelling…”  

She made a sound of disbelief.  “Sure.  Thanks so much.”  

“I say this with all sincerity, Jane.  You look positively bewitching.”  

A small amount of color gathered in her cheeks as she looked down into her nearly empty wine glass.  “Thank you.”  

“I’d have chosen green for you, but blue is perfectly acceptable.”  

She snorted.  “Green makes me look pallid and sickly.”  

“Nonsense.  It would bring out the rosiness in your cheeks and the stunning honey gold in your eyes…but blue is a worthy substitute.”  

“Worthy huh?”  

“Very,” he emphasized.  

“Worthy of what, pray-tell?”  

“Worthy of notice.  Worthy of comment. Worthy of my eyes passing over you repeatedly.”  

Jane downed the rest of her wine.  “Why do I get the feeling you’re trying to seduce me?”  

“I was going to ask you the same…”  he murmured, his gaze centering on hers.  She didn’t look away.  

“Even if I am now ...it’s not why I put on the dress.”  

“My, my…” Loki sucked his teeth. “Won’t the tongues start wagging when the lovely Dr. Foster starts dating her ex’s brother?  Her ex’s evil brother no less.”  

“Hush…” she chastised, setting her glass on the bar.  “The only tongue that will be wagging is yours.  I’m going to go make my excuses.  Wait a few minutes before you make yours.”  

She began to walk away, her hips swaying slightly, causing the dress’ gauzy fabric to flow around her thighs.  Loki both wanted to remove it reverently and tear it to pieces.  

He ordered a glass of red, waiting patiently for it to arrive.  

He sipped at it and nodded his greeting to the few guests who bothered to acknowledge his existence.  

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he smirked, setting his half drunk glass on the counter.  He pulled it out, answering it as he ducked out of the room.  

“Patience is a virtue, Dr. Foster,” he said upon accepting the call.  

“Since when did either of us care about virtue?” she countered.  

“Touché.”

Chapter Text

Wade heard Vanessa’s motorcycle pull up outside and he could have honestly sworn it was the sound of the stupid thing that turned him on now.  

Well...that and the thought of riding on the back of it with her.  The vibrations were nice.  He could totally see why chicks liked it. Made Kegels more fun.  All that jazz.

He grabbed his jacket and headed out front, completely prepared to hang onto his girlfriend’s back all night.  And that’s when he saw the side car.  

The sidecar meant that someone else was coming on their ride and while that thought thrilled him a little more than a tiny bit, he was also kind of disappointed to not be riding behind her.  

Of course, once he saw the person riding behind Vanessa, he had a spring in his step again.  

“Heya, Darce!”  he called over the roar of the bike.  

She grinned widely, her dimples popping as she grinned, waving and leaning back on the seat.  “Heya, Wade!”  He swooped in to kiss her cheek

He grabbed his helmet and leaned over to kiss Vanessa as well. “And hello to you .”  

“You talkin’ to the bike or to me?”  

“To you, ‘Nessa!” he insisted.  “The bike would never put up with being called ‘you’.”  

Vanessa revved the engine again and Wade hopped into the sidecar.  

He wasn’t sure where they were headed this weekend, but then again, it was always Vanessa who decided where they were going.  He was just along for the ride.  For as long as she wanted him to come along.  

Darcy had been a new addition to their trips.  She didn’t always come along.  She still lived with her parents and for some reason, they weren’t cool with her running off every weekend with a couple of idiots on a motorcycle.  

But she still managed to sneak off with them as often as she could.  

Wade was thinking about asking Vanessa if they should just … ask her to move in with them.  

Not that living with your parents was a bad thing, necessarily.  As Wade understood it, Darcy had some kind of a political science degree.  Basically a useless degree in a field where she couldn’t get a paying job to save her life.  So, living in her parents’ basement was kind of a necessity.  An annoying one, but a necessity nonetheless.  And pissing off said parents probably wasn’t that great of an idea.

Hence why she should totally come live with them.  

Not like we’re pressed for space or anything…  

Okay, so they were.  Wade and Vanessa’s studio apartment was already cramped as it was.  Add one more body in their queen sized bed and things were bound to get a little more interesting.  

If by interesting, you mean cramped and un-fun, then yes.  Things will be getting hella interesting.  

Right, so maybe there weren’t a whole lot of options for them right now apart from a part time relationship.  

He glanced up at the two of them on the bike.  Vanessa with the visor pulled down on her helmet and her hands clenched on the the handles.  Her jeans were tight as hell, the denim stretched tight over her thighs as she maneuvered the bike in traffic.  

Darcy was wrapped around her back.  Her hair whipped behind her from where it wasn’t tucked underneath her helmet.  

The only thing he liked watching them straddle more than the bike was him.  

They pulled up at a stoplight in town and that’s when he realized they hadn’t gotten on the interstate.  They were riding right down mainstreet.  

He leaned over, popping up his visor and tapping Vanessa on the leg.  “Heya … what gives, toots?”  

“What gives what?” she asked.  

“Why aren’t we sailing down the interstate right now?  Wind in our teeth, bugs in our hair? Or … you know … the reverse of that?”  

“Well … uh…”  Darcy flipped up her visor to answer him.  “My … uh … my parents invited us to dinner.”  

Us ?” he asked incredulously.  “As in me and Nessa?”  

Darcy nodded.  And the light changed, so they were off again.  Visors flipped down as Vanessa got into the turn lane to turn right into the supermarket parking lot.  

“Okay, so dinner with the girlfriends’ parents.  We’re at a supermarket, so I’m going with...cheap bottle of wine and pie from the bakery for thirty dollars, Alex…”  

Vanessa snorted, climbing off the back.  “Close.  We’ve only got twenty-five dollars and crumb cakes are on sale.”  

So close...” Wade said, hopping out of the side car and wrapping an arm around each of his girls as the walked into the store.  “Wish you guys could have clued me in, I’d have worn my t-shirt without the holes in it.”  

Darcy turned to look up at him.  “You got a new shirt, Wade?”  

“No!  I actually found an old one I’d forgotten about behind the bed when I moved the furniture around.”  

“Classy…” Darcy said with a low whistle.  

“Yeah...gimme three minutes with that thing.  It’ll have holes…” Vanessa teased.  

“Or you could...I dunno.  Clip your toenails,”  Wade said with a shrug.  “Or don’t.  I mean, whichever.  It’s up to you.  Your claws, your choice.”  

“But I love her claws…” Darcy whined.

“So … uh … hate to be the guy who asks the questions, but what made the rents want to meet us?  Last time I checked, they thought Vanessa was some kind of evil witch who turned you gay and I was the demonspawn who turned you back five minutes later, and that together it was some kind of sinful flip-flop disaster of a relationship?”  

“Well … basically I told them that this was likely the real deal and they … they want to meet you,”  Darcy said, turning to grin at both of them.  “I mean, we’ll have to hold off on the sinful flip flopping until later.”  

“See, I thought we were supposed to defile you on the coffee table …” Vanessa countered.  “I’m pretty sure that’s what you said to me on the phone.”  

“No, see… Ness … you can’t defile on the coffee table the first time you meet the parents.  It’s childhood bedroom or bust,” Wade corrected her.  

“No defiling in the house, that’s the only thing they asked,” Darcy interjected.  

The supermarket doors opened and a burst of cold, bread-scented air hit them in the face.      

“Yeah, okay.  I guess that’s fair …” Wade acquiesced.  “No defiling in the house.  One last question … totally unrelated … is there a garage?”  

Chapter Text

“I am not exactly thrilled with you right now,”  Pepper muttered under her breath.  The smile that was plastered on her face wasn’t helping her words sound any less scary, if Tony was being completely honest.

And he truly didn’t know where he’d gone wrong.  Had he misread her signals?  Was he getting rusty at reading her signals?  Had he ever read her signals right to begin with?  This was all so confusing and Pepper’s reaction wasn’t helping.  

He could have sworn he saw tears glinting in her eyes when she’d looked over at him. Happy tears, just to clarify.  She’d been all set to make some big announcement about another Stark charity, but the collective ‘ooo’s’ of the press had made her turn to her left to face him instead.  

Maybe it had been a dick move, springing it on her like that?  

Except he wasn’t sure how he’d actually managed to surprise her.  He’d been fairly straight-forward.  Not just in their conversation before the press conference, but also in his actions and demeanor for the past few months since they’d gotten back together.  

Tony wasn’t messing around this time.  He knew what he wanted.  He thought he knew what Pepper wanted.  And for once, the two things had aligned.  

Maybe?  

He was having doubts now, not that he was going to let her know that.

“What?  You totally didn’t have anything better than that…” he scoffed, reaching down to take her hand in his.  “Plus, you said yes.”  

There were a LOT of cameras on them at the moment.  A lot of reporters wanting statements from the happy, newly engaged couple and Pepper wasn’t about to break in front of them. He knew that.  

But the look she gave him was puzzling.  Equal parts happy.  Equal parts sad.  With a little dash of ‘Oh, Tony, you’re an idiot ’ thrown in for good measure.

And he was sure she was right.  He was an idiot.  He just didn’t know the exact precise reason why this time.  

“For the cameras,” she insisted as they ducked back out of the conference hall.  “Tony, it was for the cameras.” She coughed, a clear sign the very healthy Pepper Potts was holding back laughter.

She could say that all she wanted, but she was still trying to keep from smiling.    

He smirked and tugged her closer, wrapping one arm around her waist and leaning in to kiss her.  And she kissed him back. Oh, boy , did she kiss him back  She leaned into it.  Into him.  Her arms crept around his neck, linking behind his head. Her fingers scraped at his scalp in that way he loved and then he was the one following her down the hall when she started walking again.  

“It doesn’t count, you know…” she continued, cheeks blazing red as they made their way out.

He hadn’t seen her blush in years .

“It totally counts.  You know I’d marry you yesterday if it was possible.”  

Shaking her head, she maintained, “It doesn’t count, Tony.”  

“I love you.   And we’re totally in a better place now.  You said so yourself.  You moved back in.”  

“Maybe it was too soon, maybe I shouldn’t have…” she mused, her fingers still laced through his.  

“Pep...come on…” he groaned.  “I love you.  You love me, don’t you?”  

“You know I do.”  

“Right?  And we’re both financially stable, we’re both happy with each other.  And… you know… you did say yes.”  

She sighed. “Tony, it was for the wrong reasons. It was a great PR move, but it doesn’t count.”  

He stopped walking, but she went on without him.  For a couple of steps at least.  She stopped and turned back, looking at him quizzically.  

“You think I did that for a PR move ? Pepper.  Happy’s been holding that ring since 2008.”  

“I think you’ve been planning it, and you figured we might as well, it’s as good a time as any…”  She arched her eyebrow deftly and shot him that look she had.  The one that made him second guess every word he’d uttered in her presence since the beginning of time.  

“And you don’t want ‘as good a time as any’, you want… the perfect time.  And I screwed it up.”  He felt himself physically wilting with the knowledge.

“You didn’t screw anything up,” she assured him.  “Because it doesn’t count.”  

“You sure?”

“I’m positive,” she reiterated,, reaching out to take his hand again.

“Cool, cool.  I’ll just...I’ll take the ring back then.”  

Pepper frowned, her right hand defensively covering her left.  “Why?”  

He shot her a look of his own.  His ‘duh, Pepper ’ look. “Because, Pep.  If we’re not engaged, you don’t get to keep the ring.”  

“But you gave it to me,” she argued.  “And it’s so nice…” She held her left hand out in front of her to admire the sparkle of the diamond.  

“I know it’s nice.  It was my mother’s, and my dad didn’t play around when it came to jewelry…” he said in a matter-of-fact tone that made her stop gazing at the ring and turn to gaze at him.

“It’s your mother’s ?” she asked, her voice low in volume, but high in timbre. She was practically squealing.  “You proposed to me with your mother’s ring?”  Okay, he was definitely sure there were tears in her eyes now.

He nodded and held his hand out. “Yep.  And when I propose for real, you can have it back.”  

She paused for a moment, her fingers on the ring before she abandoned the task abruptly. “It counted,” she blurted, reaching for his hand instead of taking it off.  “It counted.”  

“What?”  He was about to argue more, but he had a mouthful of Pepper at the moment.  
She was kissing him like it was going out of style or something.  “What do you mean it counted?  What happened to me proposing for the wrong reasons?”  

“Tony,” she murmured, her eyes locking with his.  “Tony, you’ve been carrying around your mother’s ring, resized to fit me, for nine years.”  

He nodded. “That is pretty much the jist of it, yeah.  Except.  You know.   Happy was the one carrying it around. But, I mean.  It’s not that heavy or anything. I just knew he wouldn’t lose it.”

“I love you,” she whispered, her eyes sparkling brighter than any diamond could ever hope to mimic.  

“I love you too,” he replied.  “But I don’t know what’s changed, Pep.  I haven’t.”  

“What’s changed is…” she trailed off, her fingers stroking the back of his neck.  “What’s changed is that I know that now.”     

Chapter Text

Remy’s finger froze just shy of the buzzer button for her apartment.  He found her name on the sticker beside it, written in purple marker with a little loop in the ‘y’.  A circle dotting the ‘i’.  

Darcy was all kinds of wonderful.  And he was all kinds of wrong for her.  

He could just see her rolling her eyes at that thought. Telling him to just let her decide what was right and wrong for her.

Sure, that’d be the easy way to handle this.  Just push the buzzer.  Let her decide whether she wanted him to come in or not.  But he was too much of a coward.  He’d rather not have her at all than run the risk of accepting that she didn’t want him.

Even though his logic told him that she’d invite him up.  She was the one who asked him to come over.  But that same part of him wondered if she’d wised up in the past couple of hours. Decided that he wasn’t worth the risk.  Because he wasn’t.

It wasn’t an easy thought to come to.  That girl burned in his veins.  Burned in his throat.  Like a double shot of bourbon, she burned all the way down.  

If he was this far gone without so much as ever touching her, he couldn’t imagine how useless he’d be if he did.  Just the thought of brushing his fingertips over her sure-to-be smooth skin was enough to make him go painfully hard.  And that’s why he couldn’t do this.  

He couldn’t take intimacy from her and offer nothing in return.  Because that’s pretty much what he had to give.   Nothing .  

Well not nothing, but next to.

Maybe they’d fuck a couple of times while he was in town. Maybe more than a couple.  Maybe enough to make her sore and then he’d be gone for who knew how long.  

He didn’t want her memories of him to be like that.  Desperate sex until neither of them could walk.  And yet somehow, he would get up and walk away.  Leaving his scent on the pillows in the form of sweat.  His voice in her ears in the form of moans.  His touch on her skin in the form of fingers pressed hard into her hips.    

Darcy was wonderful and she deserved so much more than that.  

She deserved someone to wake up to every morning.  Someone who could give her all that relationship stuff.  All the physical and sexual things that people in love give each other.  But the other stuff too.  The breakfast in bed.  Domestics.  Stuff he just wasn’t good at.  

His finger was still poised over the buzzer and he closed his eyes because he’d just thought about loving her.  

Shit.  

He couldn’t fall in love with her.  That’s not something he could do right now.  He couldn’t deal with loving her and leaving her.  

Why was he even here?  He glanced up at her building and he knew the answer to that before he even finished the thought. And not just because he’d already thought it a billion times.

She asked him to come.  Asked him to stop by her place.  Asked him to ring the buzzer so she could let him up.  

She’d asked .  

And he was being a coward and bailing.  

With feelings varying from disgust to pride in his willpower, he turned around to leave.  Remy’s feet hit heavy on the steps and it took him approximately six paces before his phone buzzed in his pocket.  

It was a text from Darcy.  Four words.

“Have a good flight.”

His breath caught in his throat.  She was letting him go.  She wasn’t going to chase him down or beg him to stay.  She was simply accepting his decision.  

And that realization brought up new feelings.  Or more of the same.  He couldn’t even tell.  

All he could tell was that his finger was on the buzzer, the sound reverberating in his brain as her voice came out of the speaker.  “Door’s open.”  

The journey up three flights of stairs was a drop in the barrel compared to his usual excursions.  But he still found himself winded when he knocked on her door.  Knocked and then belatedly noticed the door bell.  

But he hadn’t had the best luck with decisions involving buttons, so he stuck by the knock.  

She opened the door a few seconds later.  And he was inside her apartment in no time flat.

“Darcy, I’m so sorry…” he murmured, just the beginning of what was sure to be a heartfelt confession, but she shook her head.  

“Do that after,” she pleaded.  “For now, just kiss me before I go completely nuts…”    

So he did. He just kissed her.  He pulled her close, lips moving over hers as his tongue coaxed hers apart.  Urgently devouring her open mouth and shivering when her tongue brushed against his.  

“Darce…” he murmured, feeling her smile against his mouth as she slipped her hands beneath his jacket and pushed it off his shoulders.  

She turned her attention immediately to his belt and he was fairly certain his head exploded when he felt her fingertips brush against his abdomen.  Reaching for her hands, he pulled them away, instead walking her back to the couch.  It was his turn to take the wheel.  

“Let me do this for you first…” he whispered, his thumb sliding down beneath the waistband of her jeans and undoing the button.  It popped open with ease and he was able to work down the zipper and even begin to slid the denim from her hips by the time the backs of her knees hit the couch.  

He wasted no time in getting her panties off.  He’d wasted enough of it out there on her stoop when he could have been in here, making her scream his name.  

She was slick to the touch.  Shaved just enough.  Pretty and pink when he spread her open.  He tore his gaze away from the beauty that was her long enough to gaze into her blue eyes.  

“Can I taste you, cher?” he murmured, rubbing his other hand against his erection, grunting a little at the ache the action elicited.  

He was pretty sure she got wetter when he said that.  A little bit of information he locked away for later.  It was nice knowing the sound of his voice could get her wet.  

“Please, Darcy?  You smell so good…” He leaned over and blew a stream of air over her.  His thumb stroked along her folds, taking the moisture from her opening and spreading it up and over her clit.  

Her thighs shook as she nodded.  “Remy… please... “  

She didn’t have to ask him twice.  

Chapter Text

“What exactly are your plans, Wanda?”  Natasha asked.  Her green eyes flashed like they always did when she was challenging her.

Wanda knew what her handler meant by the question.  It was Friday night and she’d just cancelled the third sparring session that week. But she was bored.  And when she was bored, things tended to happen more easily.  Natasha knew that.  She also knew the question would rile her.    

Wanda supposed it was a valid question,but she was twenty-one years old and she’d never had a rebellious teenage phase to speak of.   And she was in a terrible mood, so Natasha was going to receive a very vague answer in the form of another question.  

“In the short or the long term?” she asked, her left eyebrow arching a little before she turned, shouldering her way past Natasha and towards the door of the complex.  

“Either,” Natasha answered, clearly unphased by Wanda’s sour attitude.  

She stopped in her tracks, but didn’t turn to face Natasha as she spoke.“I have no long term plans.  And tonight, I am planning on going out and having fun,” she replied.  “I have never gone out and had fun.  So I am doing it tonight.”  

“Not by yourself you’re not…” Natasha said with a dry laugh.  “I’ll come with you, give me a second to grab my coat.  

Wanda rolled her eyes.  Having her handler come out with her for a night on the town in New York City wasn’t exactly the fun she was hoping to have.  But, she still waited by the door for her red-haired companion.

Because as little fun as having Natasha come with her sounded, going alone was even worse.  

Natasha twirled her keys around her index finger as they made their way to the garage.  When Wanda stopped by the black SUV they usually took on outings or excursions, Natasha shook her head.  “Not that one.  Come over here…”  

Natasha had stopped in front of a little red sports car.  It was obviously one of Tony’s and it made Wanda a little nervous to climb inside.  

But she did.  And buckled herself in as Natasha revved the engine.  

The wind was in her hair as they drove south towards the city, and she closed her eyes and imagined she was flying.  

The drive was so pleasant that it was almost disappointing to enter the city and have to slow down to almost a crawl as Natasha scanned the streets, looking for the best place for two women looking for fun on a Friday night.

At a stoplight, there was a loud shrieking sound from the car next to theirs.  Wanda turned in alarm to see a car full of men cat calling them.  

She glanced over at Natasha, unsure of what to do.  She certainly didn’t want to egg them on; she was wholly uninteresting in men.  Especially men like that .  

Natasha reached over to slip her arm around Wanda’s shoulders as she delicately lifted her middle finger in the air towards the men in the car.  

She winked at Wanda as the men whooped a little more, but eventually rolled up their windows and left them alone.  “Sorry about that.  Just had to make it clear we weren’t interested.”  

Wanda wasn’t sure what Natasha was apologizing for.  Her arm felt warm and safe on her shoulder, almost like it belonged there.  And she wasn’t moving it.  Assumably for the benefit of the men.  

But she didn’t move it after they started moving again.  Not until they left the red car with a valet at a very ritzy looking nightclub.  

But as soon as they stepped out of the car, Natasha’s arm was around Wanda’s waist and she felt that familiar flutter of warmth go through her as they made their way inside.  

A flash of Natasha’s ID was all it took to get them admitted past the velvet ropes.  And soon, they were sipping some kind of blue cocktail given to them by the bartender at the first bar they approached.  

There were four in the entire club.  Each based upon an element.  This one was water apparently, and the entire bar was made out of an actual ice block.  

It was chilly to sit by it as a result and Wanda wasn’t exactly thrilled about that.  She hated being cold.

After receiving their drinks, Natasha led her across the room and up some stairs to the ‘fire’ part of the club.  There were glass tubes that lit up with flames every so often and the bartender was in the process of pouring a line of flaming shots.  

“Having fun yet?” Natasha asked.  

Wanda glanced down longingly at one of many dance floors and Natasha seemed to understand.  She downed her drink in one go and encouraged her to do the same.  

It was minty and cool going down, the residual burn of the alcohol taking a few seconds to hit her, which it did as Natasha led her to the dance floor.  

It was here that Wanda first realized how relaxed she must be.  There were no intrusive thoughts.  From her or any of the patrons of this club.  Maybe she was having fun after all.  

Natasha reached for her, sliding a strong arm around her waist and making her feel even more relaxed and carefree.  

Maybe it was the minty, boozy drink that she’d gulped down a few seconds before.  Maybe it was this club that was just the right amount of kitschy and gimmicky.   Maybe it was her company.  

Wanda was certainly second guessing her initial reaction to Natasha’s tagalong.  She was definitely having more fun than she would have if she’d come alone.  She would have, in all likelihood, gone home after getting catcalled.  

“Why aren’t you this fun all the time?” she asked, tilting her head up to catch Natasha’s gaze.  

Her companion chuckled and reached over to tuck a strand of Wanda’s hair behind her ear.  “I’m not usually this fun ever … guess it’s something we both needed, eh, mishka ?”

“We might have to make it a regular occurrence…”  

A playful smile spread on Natasha’s lips and she nodded.  “I’d like that… would you?”  

“Why do you think I asked?” Wanda grinned and took a step back from Natasha as the music swelled.  “No more talk.  Let’s just dance until our feet are sore.”  

Chapter Text

When Darcy boarded the elevator, she thought she was just going to ride up to Director Fury’s office with Jane’s thumb drive o’ information.  Just like a normal, everyday trip to S.H.I.E.L.D HQ.  

She had no clue that she was going to meet her soulmate.  That she was going to meet someone whose mind was on the same wavelength as hers.  That she was going onto the elevator single and coming off more complete than she ever knew she could be.  

Or, you know, someone who had eyes so scorching that she literally melted.  

And no, that totally wasn’t a jab at Robbie’s enhancements either.

She had seen the one they all called ‘Ghost Rider’ here and there around S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters before that day.  Multiple times, actually.  But to be completely frank, she wasn’t on site all that often and meeting every single idiot who they finagled into working for them wasn’t high on her list of stuff to do while she was here.  So, she’d pretty much just noticed him in passing and from afar.

She was here to bug Coulson for a new iPod, even though an iPhone would be a more apt replacement for the one she’d lost in Puento Antiguo, and she came to drop off Jane’s research bullet points to Nick Fury. Okay, so the real reason was to drop of Jane’s research, but bugging Coulson had its charms as well.  

She also was known to use her clout and considerable skills to negotiate for more research funds, but that was kind of a given, she was constantly doing that.  

Fury just liked to deal with her rather than Jane.  He felt like Darcy put things in layman’s terms.  AKA, science-speak for the non-scientifically minded.  She was a glorified translator.  It worked out well for her, she had to say.  

Anywho, she boarded the elevator, realizing belatedly that there was only one other person with her in the tiny space, and that other person was a dude with a penchant for catching his head on fire. Flaming skull style.  

Robbie Reyes.  

She pressed her lips together and hoped to whoever was listening that they wouldn’t get stuck and he wouldn’t go all flaming lips on her ass.  

Lips on your ass?  That’s a little bit forward, I don’t even know your name.

She jumped, dropping her coffee and her phone on the floor.  “Holy shit.”  

He smirked smugly.  “You were projecting pretty loudly.”  

“You can hear me, though?”  Her heart was thudding in her chest.  If he could hear her, that meant… that meant…  

Hear your thoughts?  In your head?  Yes.  I’m glad to finally meet you.  

She looked at him then, really looked at him. locking eyes with a dude who brought new meaning to the term ‘smoldering gaze’ and coming up breathless.  

His eyes were dark brown, almost black.  And the way he looked at her…

It gave her chills.  Good chills.  Really, really good chills.  

Her soulmate.  Her sexy soulmate with the smoldering stare.  

He grinned and looked down, folding his arms over his chest.   You’re not so bad yourself, there.  

Darcy blushed.  She could feel it spreading from her neck upwards.    

“What’s your name?” he asked aloud.  

“Don’t you know?”  

“Nope.  You don’t really think your own name very much.”  

“It’s Darcy.  Lewis.”  

His eyebrows went up in recognition.  “Oh, you’re the Darcy Lewis that Coulson talks about.”  

“He talks about me?”  she asked, suddenly prideful that the resident grump would remember her and speak about her.  

“Yep.  He mentions you a lot.”  

“Good things I hope?’  

He paused, pressing his lips together.  “He mentions you a lot.”  

Darcy chuckled.  “Yeah, that sounds like him.”

“He did say you tazed a god.”  

“Yes, I did…” she nodded.  “No regrets.”   

“I’m Robbie,” he offered, holding out his hand.  

She had to school herself so she didn’t just jerk forward and grab it.  “I know.  Your reputation precedes you.”   She somehow managed to gracefully shake his hand.  She was surprised to find his skin cool.  She’d kind of been expecting his body temp to be off the charts or something.  

Nah, it’s only hot when I go all ‘flaming lips’ as you so eloquently put it.  

If there were such things as telepathic emojis, he’d have sent a winky one with that last message, she was sure of it.

“I’ve heard you before, you know…” he said, his head slowly raising so he could lock eyes with her once again.  “Looked everywhere, but it was too crowded.”  

Darcy moved ever so slightly closer to Robbie. “Really?”  

He nodded steadily.  “Yeah, a couple times.  I figured it just wasn’t the right moment.”  

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.   Before that day, she’d never heard anyone else in her head before.  “I could have helped you find me.”  

Robbie shook his head and looked down again.  “It wasn’t the right moment for me . Each time it happened, it was before I was ready to meet you.  My life was in turmoil.”

Darcy couldn’t really blame him for that.  She thought back to all the times her own life had been in turmoil.  In Puento Antiguo.  In London.  She probably would have done the same thing.  

I really wanted to, I just couldn’t bring all my mess with me.

“Where are you headed, Darcy?” He asked aloud, his gaze tender and soft when she caught it again.  

“To talk to Director Fury,” she said quickly.  “Budget stuff for my boss’ research.”  

“Jane Foster,” he said with a slight nod.  “She keeps busy, from what I hear.”  

“Yeah.  I’m kind of all over the place.”  

“So am I,” he replied to the question she hadn’t asked.  “But time can be set aside if it’s needed.  Or wanted.”  

“It’s wanted,” she said quickly.  “It’s very wanted.”  

Robbie nodded once.  “Are you free this afternoon?”  

“The meeting with Fury is the only thing on my schedule today.”  

The elevator stopped on her floor and the doors opened.  Robbie reached out to hold the doors open for her.  “Call me when you’re finished?”  

Ten digits appeared like an image in her brain and she couldn’t help but smile.  “Absolutely.”  

“Good luck,” he said with a smirk. “I’ll see you later?”  

Later Robbie’ she projected.  

Later, Darcy.

Chapter Text

The waning gibbous moon was hung high in the sky.  At a glance, you might think it was still full.  But the absence of the werewolves’ howls were enough to convince Darcy that it was definitely waning.  

It had been a few days since she’d seen her boys and she needed to open the gate so they could get in.  

The silver plated garden gate and fence was a little much, in her opinion. But when your’ boyfriends were ravenous werewolves with a sharp sense of smell and an even sharper sense of mate preservation, it was a necessity.  

It always hurt her heart a little to have to lock it after them when they left during the waxing moon.  It seemed wrong, locking out your loved ones.   

But Steve and Bucky both insisted that she do it.  They wanted to make sure that she was safe, not only from other wolves, but from them as well.  While in their werewolf forms, they weren’t themselves.  At least, according to them.  

She’d only ever seen them as werewolves once.  On the hillside to the west of their house.  Howling in the moonlight.  They weren’t hard to spot.  They were just as big and majestic-looking as their human forms.  They hadn’t looked like ravenous beasts.  Quite the contrary, in fact.

The only time Bucky and Steve could be described as ravenous beasts was when they came back after a full moon.  In human form, when they would come back to their home smelling of the woods and full-on ravish her for hours on end.It was kind of her favorite part of this whole thing.  The ravishing.

She walked down the path to the gate and unlocked it, swinging it open and turning back to go back to the house.

Her foot had just pressed upon the creaky front porch step when a pair of arms encircled her waist.  “Missed you, doll…”  Bucky’s voice was hot in her ear.  As hot as his hands.  She practically melted in his arms.

“Missed you too...is Steve --”  

“Here…”  Steve’s lips found hers as Bucky hoisted her up in the air and onto his front.  “Missed you so much… thought about you all the time…”  

Reason numero uno why Darcy thought their insistence that they weren’t themselves in were form was a crock of bullshit.  But she wasn’t in any position to argue that point right then.  

There was only one thing she was in position to do, and she was going to do it.  

Because well.  It had been three days. She was due for a ravishing.

Bucky got the front door open and Steve carried her through.  

They both smelled like outside.  Like the wind and the forest.  Steve’s teeth scraped at her throat and she wondered if they weren’t still a little bit wolf.  

Not that she was complaining.  

Oh no sir.  No complaints here.  

They made it to the bedroom through some miracle or another, with Steve placing her down on the bed and immediately reaching for the fly of her jeans.  He nosed up her denim-clad thigh as he worked the button and zipper open.  “Christ, Darcy… I can smell you…can tell how much you missed us, sweetheart… ”  

She didn’t doubt it for a second.  

Bucky worked on her shirt, yanking it up and over her head.  She reached for him, pulling him down for a kiss as Steve worked her jeans over her hips.

Bucky’s lips pulled at hers, stealing her breath when Steve nuzzled between her thighs, a low, rumbling growl breaching the silence.  

Her panties joined her jeans on the floor and her eyes squeezed shut as Steve slowly licked her open.  

Bucky rucked up her blouse with one hand, his thumb brushing over a stiff nipple and swallowing the sound she made.  

Suddenly remembering that she had hands too, and totally knew how to use them, she palmed over Bucky’s groin. The stiff evidence of his arousal was straining against the confines of his pants.  

It took almost no effort to get Bucky out of those pants. Just a tiny tug on the zipper and he was scrambling to help her out.  To free his erection so she could stroke her hand over it.  

Steve was licking her tentatively, giving her time to get used to the idea.  But as soon as Bucky’s throaty groan reached his ears, he latched onto her clit, flicking it more rapidly with his tongue.  

Darcy ran her hand up and down Bucky’s cock, feeling his hips press forward in time with her hand.

She knew better than to think Steve would let her come so soon, but she still moaned when he pulled back.  

He disrobed quickly, climbing up onto the bed with her.  Sliding his arms around her waist, Steve hoisted her up and into his lap.  “How do you want us, Darcy?”  

“I don’t know… just… need you both…” she whispered, whimpering as Bucky’s fingers slid through her folds, pressing up and into her.  Two at first, before adding a third.  

He hummed.  “You’re not ready for that just yet, Darce…it’s been a few days...”  His eyes met Steve’s over her shoulder.   “Don’t wanna hurt you, doll.”    

Steve was pressing against her back, thick and hard. “Love you so much…” he murmured.  “What do you need?”  

Darcy reached down, gently tugging Bucky’s fingers out of her in the process.  She crawled forward on all fours, pressing her ass up into the air and reaching down between her legs to slowly circle her clit with two fingers.  

She heard them both gasp,heard a whispered ‘fuck’ from Steve, felt the hot press of him as he moved in behind her.  Felt the mattress sink as Bucky laid down beside her, his hand wrapped firmly around his cock as Steve started to move.  

“Tell me how it feels, Darce…” Bucky pleaded, his hand slowly sliding up and down his swollen member.

“You gonna come that way?” she asked, breathless as Steve pumped in and out of her. She pushed up on her hands and licked her lips  “Or are you gonna let me help?”  

“Fuck…” he murmured, quickly sitting up and moving into position in front of her.  “You sure?”  

She nodded and licked her lips, lowering her head and revelling in the fact that she could make both her boys howl.