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MARRY, FUCK, KILL

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Darcy spent two years in a buttcrack of a town in New Mexico. Darcy took Intro to Organic Chemistry with Dr. Howes. Darcy once got a concussion so bad that she had to sit in a dark bedroom for two and a half days doing nothing. Darcy can handle boredom. She can.

This is where boredom goes to die. Of boredom.

They are literally watching mold grow.

(Okay, so it's Asgardian royal mold, but still: mold. Despite its exotic origins, it still looks like the shit currently growing in Darcy's shower.)

"Okay guys. Marry, fuck, kill. Avengers edition."

Carolyn, Dr. Banner's new assistant and one of Darcy newest favourite people ever claps her hands in delight. She's basically the redheaded, slightly (incredibly) more credentialed version of Darcy. In fact, there was a bit of scuttlebutt when Banner hired her over just how Darcy-esque she was (and oh my god, Banner is old enough to be Darcy's father! blah blah blah), but Darcy knows that it's just that Banner responds to being handled in a non-pushy manner - which she has a black belt in - and Darcy refused to leave Jane, so…

(Not that Darcy wouldn't ride Banner like Seabiscuit if given the opportunity. What? She's down for older dudes with anger management issues. But nope, Banner is pretty hopeless in the anything-but-science department.)

"Darcy." Ooh, Jane is employing the Mom tone.

"Come on, I am so bored. The mold will not suffer if we have a bit of fun while it feeds off of whatever it is you shoved in that beakery pot thing."

"Pig dung."

Ew. "Now I understand the pleasant smell in here," Darcy says. "I thought Clint had just swung by after the gym without showering."

It's quiet for a second, just the humming of the cooling towers on the North end of the lab.

"I'd totally fuck Clint," Carolyn says, breaking the silence and confirming why Darcy has a big ol' lady crush on her. "What? I don't know, my favourite movie growing up was Robin Hood. I have a thing for archery!"

Darcy stares at her for a second. "It was the Disney version wasn't it?"

Carolyn covers her face with her hands. "HE WAS A HANDSOME FOX, OKAY?"

Jane and Darcy both laugh until their sides hurt while Carolyn looks just a bit mortified.

Once the tears and chuckles stop, Darcy refocuses. "Come ON, Jane."

Jane finally sighs and relents. "Okay, so I'd probably marry Th--"

"No Thor!"

"Darcy!"

"Jane, it is so boring if you include the dude you know you're going to eventually marry and pop out little demigods with. So let's just pretend that Thor…" Darcy looks up at the ceiling, perhaps posing the proposition to god or something, "got turned into a llama."

"Oh my god." Jane legitimately looks horrified. It's awesome.

"Yep," Darcy says, "a llama. And," she pauses holding up a finger as Jane tries to interrupt her, "there was NO WAY of changing him back. Yep, you got your science on and crunched some numbers and there was no way for him to go back to Cut McBlondy, but it was okay, because he found another nice lady llama and had lots of llamaettes…"

"Crias," Carolyn supplies.

"Thanks. Yep, he had lots of crias, so… in this scenario of Thor being a llama and your lady business needing auditing, who would you marry, fuck, kill?"

Carolyn is looking a little dubious. "Did you just turn the god of thunder into a llama?"

"Not the worst thing I've done to him."

Carolyn turns to Jane who shrugs. "Don't look at me. I hit him with a car. TWICE."

"Three times if you count New Jersey, Jane," Darcy says with a smile. Jane just looks irritated. After swiping him yet again in Trenton, they had all officially rescinded her permission to drive a motor vehicle.

"I suddenly understand why these guys never visit the lab," Carolyn says. Which is kind of a lie because Banner's in there all the time, and Clint and Barnes are always swinging around to be general nuisances. But yeah, come to think about it, Thor never visits the lab.

"Okay, so if Thor was a llama, and I had to marry an Avenger, I guess I'd choose… Steve?"

"Really?" The choice actually shocks Darcy. She definitely had Bruce already nailed down in that spot and tells Jane as much.

"No," Jane says. "Too much science. Remember Dr. Corbett?"

Ooh, that had been ugly. She's right.

"So, marrying Steve, huh?" Darcy says, wiggling her eyebrows.

"Who's marrying Steve?" Natasha asks, making everyone jump. She's been doing that stealthy ninja shit again lately, popping into rooms and making her presence known only when she's at a could-snap-your-neck-in-a-heartbeat distance.

Natasha is scary as shit. Fuck, Darcy loves her. It's gotten to the point where she wonders if SHIELD is fucking with her sexual identity because she's been having a lot of warm and fuzzy feelings for the ladies of SHIELD. They are just infinitely cooler and more badass than their male counterparts, who all have come to resemble horny teenagers to her as of late.

"Jane's marrying Steve!"

"HEY!" Jane yells defensively. "Only if Thor was a llama!"

Natasha looks at all of them like they have legitimately lost their collective minds.

"Marry fuck kill," Darcy explains.

Natasha's grin is huge.

"Actually, you know, I get it. Rogers would be an excellent MARRY choice. You know that he'd never leave the toilet seat up, would never drink the last of the milk, and would clean the rain gutters without prompting," Darcy says. She's never really considered Steve as anything other than Captain America who is impossibly unapproachable; weirdly enough, the things she finds intimidating about him as a person oddly work for her in a domestic setting. "Ugh, plus you just KNOW Barton would be the type of fucker that would eat the last oreo and then shove the empty box back into the cupboard."

"So what's your list then, Darcy?" Jane asks, turning back to look at the mold, which has done exactly fuck all in the last half-hour.

"Don't rush me! I need to make an informed, calculated choice."

Darcy looks down at her pad, then back up at Natasha. She purses her lips in thought. "You've fucked Barnes, right? How dexterous is that metal hand?"

 

--

 

Everyone gets into it. Darcy isn't sure if it's surprising or not that the entire female population of the office wants to compare notes. SHIELD is lousy with statistics nerds.

Somehow, Darcy becomes keeper of the list. Which normally she wouldn't love because responsibility that you don't get paid for? No thanks. She's been an intern for three fucking years, show her the QUAN or whatever Cuba Gooding Jr. called it.

But god, it is entertaining as hell. And shocking. Louise in Finance (who is five foot nothing and size negative one hundred) actually wrote Hulk for FUCK. Not Bruce Banner. HULK.

SURPRISING: Of the 35 women who have submitted their lists so far, every single one has Steve down as MARRY. A lot of women also seem totally fine with metal-armed former killers because Barnes is rocking the FUCK category like a hurricane. Though Darcy understands - since he cut his hobo hair, he's been looking good.

NOT SURPRISING: Tony is winning the KILL category by a count of 98%. The only outlier is Irene in weapons, who has still not forgiven Barton for using her poster of Robert Pattinson as a range target. She submits her list with a little hangman holding a bow by Clint's name.

 

--

 

"This is sexist!" Clint whines when Darcy rips up his sixth attempt to submit a MARRY, FUCK, KILL list, tossing the remains into the shred bin. "How come all the women in the office get to sign up and all the guys are excluded? It's reverse sexism, man. REVERSE. SEXISM."

Darcy rolls her eyes at him so hard she legitimately wonders if she can see her own brain cells die in protest of his stupidity.

"One, I don't care. Two, cry me a river. Three, give me a call when you're making seventy-six cents to the dollar, sweetcheeks."

Clint laughs, levelling a dirty grin at Darcy. "Oh, you'd definitely be my MARRY."

Darcy lets out a grunt. "Lord help me, I'd prefer death."

 

--

 

From: dlewis@shield.gov
Date: April 4, 2014; 16:07 EST
Subject: FUCK. OFF.
To: jbarnes@shield.gov; cbarton@shield.gov

NO. NO I WILL NOT TELL YOU WHO PUT YOU DOWN FOR FUCK. NO I WILL NOT TELL YOU WHAT YOUR "STANDINGS" ARE. STOP. ASKING.

BARNES, YOU TRY SNEAKING INTO MY APARTMENT AGAIN AND I WILL TIE YOU UP IN THE RAIN AND LET YOU GO TIN MAN. EVERYTHING YOU TOUCH SMELLS LIKE WD-40, SO DON'T THINK I WON'T KNOW.

SUCK A BAG OF DICKS,

DARCY LEWIS.

 

 

From: jbarnes@shield.gov
Date: April 4, 2014; 16:12 EST
Subject: Re: FUCK. OFF.
To: dlewis@shield.gov
Cc: cbarton@shield.gov

At least tell me if Natasha has me down for FUCK.
-J

 

From: dlewis@shield.gov
Date: April 4, 2014; 16:22 EST
Subject: Re: FUCK. OFF.
To: jbarnes@shield.gov
Cc: cbarton@shield.gov

I'M GOING TO HURT YOU.

 

From: jbarnes@shield.gov
Date: April 4, 2014; 16:31 EST
Subject: Re: FUCK. OFF.
To: dlewis@shield.gov
Cc: cbarton@shield.gov

I could be down for that, dollface.
-J

 

From:cbarton@shield.gov
Date: April 4, 2014; 16:55 EST
Subject: Re: FUCK. OFF.
To: jbarnes@shield.gov
Cc: dlewis@shield.gov

Ew. Please don't CC me on this shit, Barnes.

Clint

PS: DID NAT PUT ME DOWN FOR FUCK?!

 

--

 

"Tony?" Sharon asks, shoveling a piece of broccoli in her mouth. Sharon actually looks excited and happy to eat salads, which is partially why Darcy refused to each lunch with her for the first few weeks she started working at SHIELD. The only time Darcy likes lettuce entering her orbit is when she's eating a BLT, but Sharon is one of those, "ooh, can I get extra kale?" women that Darcy resents with every fibre of her being. Shit like that is just wrong.

Much like the idea of fucking Tony Stark.

"For our friendship, I am going to pretend you didn't just suggest that, okay?"

Sharon shrugs. "Not my type, but he is a genius billionaire and Pepper seems happy enough. God knows he has enough practice under his belt."

Darcy shakes her head and holds up a hand in protest. "I would never fuck a dude who manscapes like a 1980s Miami drug lord."

"Whu?" is the sound that comes out of Sharon's mouth as she chews a piece of red bell pepper.

Of course, Tony waltzes in at that very moment, his goatee extra pointy and his skin weirdly tanned from whatever god forsaken science project he's been working on in his lab. "Look at that face," Darcy says, swinging around a fork still covered in orangy goodness from her mac and cheese, "and imagine it saying, SAY HELLO TO MY LITTLE FRIEND." God, her Al Pacino impression has only gotten better with time.

Sharon laughs so hard a chunk of beet goes flying and smacks into the back of Clint's head.

 

--

 

"Lewis," Barnes says as he saunters into her work area.

"Dr. Claw," Darcy replies, not looking up from her work. She can hear his soft laugh as he turns and parks his ass on her desk next to the report she's working on.

"So I hear that you've been asking about the hand. Let me assure you," he says, rubbing his fingers together close enough to her ear that she can hear the soft shhh noise the metal makes as it rubs together, "that I have never had a single complaint."

His voice is downright filthy. "Quite the opposite."

It's all for show of course; James Barnes is actually kind of weirdly gentlemanly in a very Steve-esque way, he just comes with a very, very dirty mind and a nasty sense of humour. Which Darcy appreciates. In moderation. And not in the lab when she's about four hours behind on her work.

Darcy pastes on her best eat-shit-and-die grin, the kind she normally reserves for Tony when he's not taking his Ritalin. "Just wondering if it's gained sentience and tried to strangle you in your sleep yet. God knows I'd try if I had to spend that much time with you."

Barnes doesn't even miss a beat, lowering his head and dropping his voice. "Lewis, are you into breathplay? That's hot. Not gonna lie, it's not normally my thing, but I'm always up for new experiences."

Darcy shoots him a look that could freeze ice. "Fuck off and stay out of my underwear drawer."

Barnes runs his tongue over his teeth. Yeah, she could tell he'd been rooting around in there when he had "dropped by" while she was out. They both know she gives exactly zero shits, which is the only reason he'd do it. Eh, she's been in a dry spell lately - at least there's someone appreciating her panties. "Hmm, those purple lacey ones are real nice, Lewis. Real nice."

"Oh good, because it's literally the only time you are ever going to see them. EV-VER."

Barnes isn't really her type (he's basically her with a dick the more she thinks about it, and Darcy to the power of two is just a disaster waiting to happen), but she gets the appeal when he leans even closer and says, "We'll see about that."

She sticks three of her hello kitty magnets on the back of his arm before he leaves.

 

--

 

Sharon Carter's list - not surprisingly - has her MARRY as Steve.

Surprisingly, her FUCK is Barnes and Steve. Together. She is explicitly clear in this direction.

Sharon is awesome.

 

--

 

You've reached the voicemail of Virginia Potts. Please leave a message after the tone and I will get back to you as soon as possible. If this is an emergency, please dial zero to be directed to a Stark Industries operator. Thank you!

"Pepper! PEPPER! Why am I on everyone's kill list!? What is wrong with the women at SHIELD? I was People's Sexiest Man Alive TWICE. TWICE! George Clooney told me once that he was jealous of my good looks and brilliance, okay? Granted, I am competing with Rogers and I get the patriotic duty of fucking the Captain of America, but there are literally women that would select killing me over a guy who turns into a giant green angry monster. Or worse: CLINT. Pepper Potts, it is your duty as CEO of Stark Industries and as my lady love to defend my honour. Ah shit, Rhodey needs me, but remember to tell them about that thing I can do with my tongu--"

 

You've reached Tony's personal voicemail. If you're hearing this, I'm most likely avoiding your call. If you leave a message, I will most likely not return it at my earliest convenience. Unless you're Pepper. If you're Pepper, I always return your call because otherwise you withhold sexy times.

"Oh my GOD, Tony. First, you're changing your voicemail greeting immediately. Second, THIS IS WHY."

 

--

 

Darcy's eating lunch (sans Sharon, who is apparently in Croatia shooting people or something instead of unintentionally shaming Darcy's lunch choices) when she hears the women from R&D (who ALWAYS sit together like it's a scene out of Mean Girls or some shit) start whispering to one another.

"Nope. Banner all the way. FUCK FUCK FUCK."

"What? You have met Thor, right?"

"Abby, you've seen Banner in the meditation room. That guy is into TANTRIC. That is going to be some of the best sex ever."

"Ooh, remember Tim, that yoga instructor I dated last year? He was into tantric. It was fucking amazing. I've never come so hard in my life."

"Why the hell did you break up with him again?"

"Ugh, the sex fried my brain but he would never stop trying to get me to eat fucking quinoa and granola and take walks with him to commune with nature and I just could not take it anymore! Give me a fucking burger and automatic weapon schematics, thanks!"

Darcy chokes on her chicken pot pie laughing.

 

--

 

[START: INTEROFFICE JABBER CHAT]

srogers: Hey.

jbarnes: hey. we still on for pizza and the mets tonight?

srogers: Okay, weird question: do you know what Darcy's list is?

jbarnes: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! OH MY GOD, REALLY?

srogers: Nevermind.

jbarnes: i'm not judging you! she's fun, has awesome boobs, and has that get-up with the pencil skirt that makes her look like a naughty librarian. i also think she might be into breathplay, which… yeah.

jbarnes: steve?

[END: INTEROFFICE JABBER CHAT. TRANSCRIPT WILL BE HELD FOR SIX MONTHS.]

 

--

 

Maria Hill swings by her desk to ask if Fury or Coulson count as Avengers.

It takes Darcy a minute and a half to pick her jaw up off the floor.

 

--

 

Susan Cho from HR puts down Natasha as her FUCK.

Natasha looks disturbingly pleased.

On Monday, Susan comes into work with a hickey the size of Jupiter on her neck that not even the concealer that she must have diligently applied can cover up. She's walking a bit funny, too, a dazed, well-fucked look on her face.

Natasha slinks around like the cat that ate the canary for an entire week.

 

--

 

You've reached my voicemail because I'm not picking up my phone right now. Leave me a message and I will possibly return it if it sufficiently entertains me. If this is Barton or Barnes, go fuck yourself. Ciao.

"Darcy! DARCY LEWIS! For personal safety reasons, I need you to tell me if Natasha has made me her KILL. As your landlord and personal hero, it is in your best interest to keep me from being murdered by a scary Russian woman with stellar thighs, okay? I would like to remind you that she once stabbed me in the neck with a needle and has since leveled several threats to my person. I will pay you handsomely for information. I also may have some photos of a certain Captain in the buff that I could pass along to interested parties. SO GET BACK TO ME CHOP CHOP."

 

You've reached Tony's personal voicemail. I am so fortunate to have as understanding a girlfriend as Pepper Potts, who would never use sex as a weapon. Only as a reward. OW OW PEPPER LET GO JESUS CHR--

"You two are so weird. Bee tee dubs, I'd make sure your life insurance premiums are all paid up, Stark."

 

--

 

"No, Steve," Natasha says as she tightens her thighs around Steve's diaphragm so hard that he can no longer breathe. God, she loves sparring with the boys. They are so durable, strong… and yet she crushes them like bugs. It does things for her. Things that make her want to go find Cho from HR and climb under her skirt. Or ride Barnes' fingers for a couple hours. (She does love that metal hand, oh yes.) "I do not know who is on Darcy's list."

"Nurghhh," Steve replies, holding on for another minute before tapping out.

 

--

 

It's about a week and a half in when Darcy notices something odd. When she tabulates the standings, Thor is a big fat zero in the FUCK category. In fact, in every category.

(As much as Darcy tries not to look at Thor like that anymore if only for Jane's sake, she's not blind or stupid. If not for the professionalism of the women at SHIELD, Thor would make it rain panties in the office 24/7. That thought made her call him the God of Panties in her head for a solid month.)

Darcy corners her in the lab, her hands on her hips as Jane tries valiantly not to meet her eyes.

"FOR SCIENCE, JANE!" Darcy reprimands, getting some holy righteous baptist preacher tone in there. "How could you? The purity of the scientific process has been forever tarnished!"

Jane actually looks ashamed. Like, ASHAMED. She sighs, flaps her arms a bit and whines an incoherent string of vowel-y noises before she turns around and mopes back to her desk.

Darcy does not love spending her Saturday night sorting through the submissions and fixing all the changes that Jane hacked into her excel spreadsheet to enter. But she, like Jane (when sane), believes in the sanctity of science.

Yeah, not surprising: Thor is Godding the fuck out of FUCK. Ha, take that, Barnes.

("How did you even break into the file, Jane? It was password protected!"

"Darcy, you need to stop using clintisadick as your password for everything, okay?")

 

--

 

(555) 903-5793: WHERE IS YOUR LIST, WOMAN?

widowmaker: Who the hell is this?

(555) 903-5793: DARCY.

widowmaker: How did you get this number?

(555) 903-5793: steve doesn't know how to lock a smartphone. it's great. i may have changed his ringtone to america, fuck yeah. i'm going to wait until his meeting with fury this afternoon then give him a call.

(555) 903-5793: answer the question.

widowmaker: You're evil. I like you.

(555) 903-5793: that may just be the best compliment i've ever gotten. now answer the question.

widowmaker: I'm still deciding.

(555) 903-5793: hurry up!

widowmaker: What's your list then, Darcy?

(555) 903-5793: why?

widowmaker: Hmm, someone might have inquired.

(555) 903-5793: who?

(555) 903-5793: natasha?

(555) 903-5793: NATASHA!?

 

--

 

On Wednesday, every female employee of SHIELD arrives to a blue Tiffany & Co. box on their desk.

Darcy's is a pretty platinum dragonfly pendant on a chain. "Did Stark just buy every woman in this building jewelry from Tiffany's?" she asks herself because apparently no one else in lab came in at butt o'clock in the morning.

For your consideration, is written on the tag.

Darcy has literally become the most popular woman at work. By the end of the day, Claire, Marie and Heather all bring her thank you lattes. Ironically (yes, Darcy is aware she is using the word wrong, but she is going to blame Alanis Morrisette), Tony Stark is still at the top of the kill list at the end of the week.

Pepper switches her list on Thursday. She's still marrying Steve and fucking Barnes ("I like a bad boy," she told Darcy at the time and Darcy had just cringed a bit), but now she's killing Tony.

Darcy falls in love with Pepper a bit.

 

--

 

Two days later, Darcy watches as a giant truck from the most expensive florist in town parks in front of the tower and empties an entire load into the penthouse.

Ah, the groveling has begun.

Christ, at least it isn't giant stuffed animals this time. Apparently Tony can learn some things.

 

--

 

When Thor learns of THIS STRANGE MIDGARDIAN CUSTOM OF COPULATION SELECTION!, he simply says, "Jane is my only love," and kisses her cheek sweetly.

The look on Jane's face simultaneously makes Darcy's eyes tear and heart explode.

Jesus, these two are going to be the death of her. How can you date mouth-breathing gomers happily when your BFF has a hot demigod worshiping the ground she walks on?

Reality sucks.

 

--

 

Clint corners Darcy by the coffee machine. She has only had one cup and two hours of sleep, so she's exactly zero percent prepared to deal with his shit this early in the morning, even though she secretly loves their barby dialogue.

"That constitutes bribery, Lewis. BRIBERY."

Ah, the jewelry. She saw this one coming. Clint is a terrible loser.

"Calm down, Legolas. Just think of it like the Oscars," she says, cradling the coffee cup in her hands. Oh sweet, sweet coffee. If Darcy had to fill out her list right now, she'd fuck the shit out of coffee, then marry it. Theirs is the truest love possible.

"Everyone knows the Oscars are rigged." Whoa, Clint is actually pouting. She wants to laugh, but she's not so sure how he would take it.

"Exactly. You are expected to grease the wheels. Now either shut up or talk about the new set of steak knives you're going to buy me."

Clint pours himself a cup of coffee and dumps about half a cup of cream and sugar into it. Gross. He considers her for a moment, leaning beside her against the counter, then moves close enough that he can drop his head on her shoulder.

"How many women have put me down as FUCK?"

He looks so pathetic that Darcy can't help but feel bad for him. So she relents.

"Enough to make me consider talking to HR about the psych evals they run recruits through because we shouldn't have this many people with poor decision-making skills working at SHIELD."

Clint looks as happy as a pig in shit.

"Oh, and I'd ask Carolyn out."

Clint looks like he just won the fucking lottery. It's actually adorable. He leans over, kisses her on the cheek and bolts out of the room.

(Clint takes Carolyn out on Saturday. Monday night, Darcy returns to her apartment to see an expensive new set of steak knives sitting on her kitchen counter.)

 

--

 

Natasha is a woman of layers. She is an onion. A beautiful, deadly, scary as shit onion.

Because when she submits her list, her FUCK is Thor.

Darcy cackles like a hyena for five minutes, then vows to never tell Jane EVER.

Because she's pretty sure Jane might legitimately try to find a way to turn someone into a llama.

 

--

 

(Natasha has Barnes as her MARRY. For some reason, Darcy finds that unbearably sweet and spends some time imagining their deadly little Soviet assassin babies.

Then she remembers Barnes is a little fuckface who went through her panty drawer, and thinks Natasha could do a lot better.

Shocking to absolutely no one on the planet: Tony is her KILL. Darcy decides to keep that little present until Christmas. Merry Christmas, Tony.)

 

--

 

After a month, the results are in. 156 SHIELD ladies participate.

MARRY: Hello, Steve. Winner with 142 of the votes.

FUCK: God of Panties indeed. Barnes comes in second with Steve, Banner, and Clint making decent showings. A couple vote for Tony, but Darcy thinks it was the Oscar effect. Natasha gets more votes than Tony. Actually, Natasha gets more votes than Banner, Clint and Tony combined. Natasha smiles that scary smile and asks for a copy of the results.

KILL: HAHAHA TONY.

Darcy starts calling Tony "King Kill".

Weirdly, Tony doesn't seem to mind. SHIELD, however, gets pissy when he hacks into their servers to change his official email to KINGKILL@shield.gov.

 

--

 

Darcy sidles up to Steve one night as he's heading to the door of his apartment on the 32nd floor. He's traded the khakis for some illegal looking jeans and… is that a leather motorcycle jacket?

Jesus.

"Darcy," he says. "Hey."

"So I hear you've been sniffing around for my list, Captain Rogers," Darcy says with a knowing smile.

(Okay, she didn't so much hear as she traded Natasha the information for the list of people who put her down as FUCK. Yeah, Darcy's a traitor to the sisterhood, whatever. Susan Cho looks happy enough.)

He leans away from his door, offering up the space to her, and Darcy pushes herself in between him and the door so her shoulder blades are pressed up against it. Considering how shy he typically is with women, she's frankly shocked that he doesn't blush. He doesn't even look ruffled. Darcy doesn't know what the hell to do with that. "Hmm, maybe," he says.

Whoa.

She was expecting some blushing, maybe a stammered apology that she could brush away with a "no biggie!".

Yeah, Darcy might be a little off-balance now, but a Lewis is always quick on her feet. "You were a popular man, I must say." He moves back in a bit, closing the distance he had made to let her get in front of him. "A lot of women are looking to tie the knot with you, Captain. You better watch out."

He laughs and smiles brightly, but doesn't say anything. The smile starts to fade into something a little quieter, maybe even a little dark. This is the look she's used to seeing Barnes whip out at girls, definitely not Steve Rogers. It's official: Barnes is a terrible influence.

(Or amazing. Right now, with the way he's looking at her, it's amazing.)

"Was I your MARRY, Darcy?"

Oh. Oh, she likes this Steve. This flirty Steve is fun. This one doesn't feel like Captain America at all, like he's here to save the day or bark out orders or protect the American Way of Life (trademark SHIELD 2014), all the things that make Darcy antsy and nervous around him (mostly because she wants to fuck him so badly, but he's so unapproachable in that stupid uniform).

"No, I did not make you my MARRY. MARRY is no one, because this girl isn't the marrying kind." She leans into his space, her mouth mere inches from his jaw. "But I did make you my FUCK."

His eyes get all bright and devious as he turns his head to look her straight in the eye. Darcy can't remember selling her soul to the devil, but this would definitely be worth it. She squeezes her thighs together under her skirt.

"Is that right?"

She pauses dramatically, sighing. "Well, it was a tough decision. I've been told Tony can do this thing with his tongu--"

Then her brain short circuits because he literally PICKS HER UP and carries her through the doorway, into his dark apartment, and presses her up against the wall near the coat rack. Darcy's legs wrap around his waist, and he takes one of his arms from under her ass to pull her neck down far enough that he can kiss her.

So that he can kiss the everloving shit out of her, to be exact. God, he is good. He is really, really good and so deserving of her FUCK vote. He kisses open-mouthed and firm, and uses just enough tongue that she can just feel herself melting between her legs.

She only stops kissing him to let out a strangled gasp when he runs one of his ridiculously large, warm hands up the back of her bare thigh.

Whoa.

Whoa. Whoa. Whoa.

 

--

 

OH YEAH. Steve is so, so good as her FUCK that by the end of the summer, she is considering promoting him to MARRY.

Maybe.

(It helps that he draws her a picture of Thor as a llama, complete with a cape and myah-myah. She gives a framed copy to Jane for her birthday.)