When Darcy accepts the offer to officially become Jane's assistant, she's presented with a stack of paperwork at least an inch thick. Because they are technically there as part of a public-private partnership with Stark Industries, she has to fill out a bunch of stuff twice, which seems really wasteful. There are the usual W4 and direct deposit forms, one for listing her emergency contacts, and one about her medical history that seems a little intrusive until she realizes who she's working for. There's one that she's only supposed to sign after having read various SHIELD policy manuals but signs anyway, because seriously, when is she going to have reason, let alone time, to read the SHIELD weapons handling manual? There's a pile of nondisclosure agreements she signs without reading, either, because one, she's not a lawyer, and two, she'd have to understand any of Jane's stuff to disclose it, so no danger there.
Then she comes to the weirdly specific SHIELD forms for unusual incidents and events. Having made first contact with her taser (not to mention the whole Chitauri thing), she can't scoff at the "What to do in the event of an alien invasion?" form, and given the givens, maybe they really do have a time machine, so she agrees that she will not attempt to go back in time to kill Hitler or otherwise change the timestream without first having direct orders from a Level 10 or higher SHIELD operative.
But then there's SHIELD Form 7A WF 83429: Biochemical Warfare, Pheromones, and You. Now she knows they're hazing her, but whatever, she'll get the last laugh.
In the box where it says, "If you do not have a significant other or regular sexual partner at the time of the biochemical event, to whom do you grant consent to have sex with you should circumstances require it?" she writes, "Captain America." Because that's a thing that's ever going to happen.
She signs her name with a flourish, makes the requisite copies for her own personal files, and then hands the whole package over to the SHIELD lackey who's been standing over her the whole time.
She doesn't think about it again.
Ten months later
After the labs get trashed yet again, this time by aliens that look like giant Rock 'Em Sock 'Em robots, there's a lot of rearranging of lab space, which makes all of the scientists kind of tetchy, and that's not even counting the one who turns into a giant green rage monster. Or Jane. Which is why Darcy's there alone on a Saturday, making sure all of Jane's equipment has finally been moved out of Bruce's lab and none of it's been damaged (well, any more than it already was; Jane's duct tape and DIY aesthetic made Tony kind of crazy when they first met, and he spent a lot of time building her shinier thingamabobs and doodads) in the process.
Darcy's under one of the lab tables, making sure her iPod dock is plugged in, when she hears someone's sneakers squeak against the floor and then a whispered flurry of cursing.
The lackeys and interns are all supposed to be at lunch, so she pops up and says, "Hi, can I help you?"
The guy turns, startled. It's one of the new interns. He's working on trying to open the safe where Bruce keeps the Hulk's blood samples. She yells, "Jarvis," and when there's no response, she hits the panic button on her phone in her pocket; she can do it without looking, one of the few bits of SHIELD training that's stuck. With her other hand, she grabs her taser out of her bag.
The guy curses again and they lunge over the table at each other. He jabs her hand with a hypodermic needle right before she hits him with the taser. He goes down, twitching and gasping like a dying fish and she stares at the needle sticking out of her hand.
"Oh fuck me," she says, and that's when the Avengers burst in.
Darcy strips down into the t-shirt and scrubs they give her and lets them lock her in a quarantine room until the tests on her blood and the syringe come back. She's breathless and sweating and more turned on than she can remember being in a while. Possibly ever. It's probably the adrenaline, she thinks, but instead of fading away and leaving her tired and shaky, as previous experience has taught her, she just gets more wound up the longer they leave her alone.
The t-shirt rubs against her nipples, making her shiver. It feels really good, and she spends a minute or two rubbing the soft cotton against her hard nipples. She squeezes her thighs together and shifts her hips, chasing the sensation. It's good, but she needs more. She slips her fingers between her legs, marveling a little at how wet she is already, and presses in, gasping at how good it feels. Though not as good as it would without the scrubs in the way. She tugs at the drawstring and is about to pull them off regardless of where she is when she hears a click.
"Darcy, are you okay?" The voice comes from a speaker somewhere in the ceiling and she jumps, yanking her hand away. She has to curl it into a fist and dig her nails into her palm in order not to put it right back where it was.
"Yeah. I just, um, are you watching me?" She notices the camera in the corner of the room, and the fact that there's an observation window next to the door and feels her face flush even hotter.
"Yes," Jane says matter-of-factly. "You got injected with an unknown substance. Of course we're watching you."
"We? Who is we?"
"Me and a whole group of SHIELD medical types."
"Oh my god." She should have known though; even if they weren't watching, Jarvis probably was. (It's only after that she'll remember to thank Pepper and Natasha for keeping Tony away.)
"Your heart rate is accelerated and your blood pressure and temperature are slightly elevated. How are you feeling?"
"Hot and horny." She licks her lips and pushes her hair off her forehead. "Holy crap, I've been sex pollened?"
She hears a soft huff that sounds like Jane's trying to muffle laughter. "We don't know that for sure, but, uh, it seems like the most logical hypothesis."
"Could this be more embarrassing?" And then, softer, as if that's going to keep anyone in the observation room from hearing, "I don't suppose you could get me a vibrator?" Her hand is already sliding down between her legs again and she presses it flat against her thigh to stop it from moving. She sits down on the cot and folds one leg up beneath her, hoping no one will notice how she's pressing her heel against her pussy. It's surprisingly effective, and sends sparks of heat skittering through her veins.
"Probably," Jane says, "and, uh, I don't think that'll be necessary."
Meanwhile, two floors below the lab where Darcy's quarantined
Coulson clears his throat again and studiously avoids meeting Steve's gaze, which is weird enough to make Steve uncomfortable.
"Is something wrong? I mean, beyond what happened to Darcy? She's okay, right?" he asks, unnerved by Coulson's uncharacteristic shiftiness. He likes Darcy--she's pretty and funny and laughs at his jokes, and she doesn't patronize him when he doesn't get some of her pop culture references. After a disastrous three dates with Beth-the-waitress, he'd started taking Darcy as his plus-one to work events; it simplifies things, since she's usually already attending anyway, and it's nice to have someone to talk to when he wants to hide out in the coatroom.
"It appears she's been injected with some kind of, uh, sexual stimulant," Coulson says, gazing so fixedly at some point past Steve's left shoulder that Steve's tempted to turn around and see what it is.
"Uh," Steve says, gaining a sudden appreciation for the lack of eye contact. He looks down at his hands, which are clenched tightly around the rim of his shield. Steve's glad Darcy's attacker is already on his way to SHIELD HQ, or he might find himself on the business end of Steve's fists. "Is that a thing now?"
"Not a good thing," Coulson answers. "But yes, it happens occasionally."
"That's why SHIELD has a form for it." Steve vaguely recalls filling it out; after an excruciatingly embarrassing conversation with Natasha, he'd put her name in the little box. He hadn't known Darcy then, or maybe his answer would have been different.
"Yes." Coulson coughs. "Darcy apparently put your name down as her, um, preferred partner if such a situation arose."
He feels simultaneously pleased and embarrassed and hopes neither shows on his face. "I see."
"Obviously, you don't have to, uh, participate if you don't want to, but if you're willing, the medical team thinks it will help her body process the, ah, stimulant more quickly."
Steve swallows hard and tries to ignore the excited flutter in his belly. "Okay." He takes a deep breath. "If she says it's okay, I'll do it."
Coulson reaches into the inside pocket of his suit jacket, pulls out a strip of rubbers and hands them to Steve. "Then I guess you'll need those."
"Thanks," Steve says, sure his face is fire engine red now.
"Let us never speak of this again," Coulson answers, and Steve can only nod in agreement as he tucks the condoms away in one of his pockets.
Darcy's quarantine room
"I can use my hands," Darcy says, "but a vibrator will be faster. Trust me. Unless you're volunteering?"
"Not me," Jane says. "Not that you're not hot and all, but I have a boyfriend now. But, uh, remember that form you filled out when we first started working for SHIELD?"
Right now, Darcy's lucky she remembers her own name, so it takes her a few seconds, and then she says, "Oh, fuck me."
The door to the room slides open with a soft whoosh and Captain America--still in uniform, though not carrying his shield or wearing his helmet--comes in.
"Uh," he says, scrubbing a hand through his hair and giving her a pained smile that looks more like a grimace. "If that's what you want."
Darcy jumps up and closes the blinds on the observation window with a quick twist of her fingers. "Jane, turn off the cameras now." The last thing she hears before the mike clicks off is Jane's laughter.
She turns to Steve (though it's hard to think of him like that when he's in uniform) and gives him what she hopes is a seductive smile. "Are you here to help me?"
His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows and she finds herself so mesmerized by the movement that she almost misses his low answer. "Like I said, if that's what you want."
"I don't need to be told twice," she says, which is obviously untrue, but she couldn't care less at this point. She launches herself at him, and though he stumbles back two steps and hits the door, he's got her and she feels safe for the first time since she discovered that asshole in the lab.
Steve's hands on her skin ratchet her temperature up even higher, and the press of her boobs against the solid muscle of his chest makes her close her eyes and curl her toes. She rubs herself against him and enjoys his sharp intake of breath, bolts of pleasure arcing through her.
"I'm sorry this is so sudden," she says as she reaches for the waistband on his tights. Pants. Whatever. She just needs to get her hands on him so she can get him inside her. "I'm usually much more into foreplay."
He makes a noise that sounds like it has no vowels in it and she presses her face to the curve of his throat and kisses the pulse fluttering just beneath the perfection of his jawline. He makes another one of those sounds and pushes off the wall so he can deposit her on the cot, but she doesn't unwind her arms from around his neck or her legs from around his hips. She can't help herself from thrusting up against him, angling her hips so that the hard line of his dick (or, more likely, his cup) rubs against her exactly the right way. It makes her fingers clumsy and she can't find a zipper or a button or anything to get his tights open, and that makes her cry out in frustration.
Steve's hand folds over hers gently. "It's okay, Darcy, I got this."
She bites her lower lip and tries to slow down, even though every nerve in her body is on fire and she feels like she's going to die if he doesn't fuck her right now. All she says, though, is, "Thanks." And then she realizes she's still got her own pants on and that's not going to work for her, either. So while he gets his himself ready, she shoves the scrubs down her legs and kicks them off. She takes a moment to wish she'd gotten waxed recently but she can't be bothered to care too much about that once Steve's got his pants peeled down far enough to free his dick.
She makes grabby hands at him but he says, "Wait. We need a rubber."
She heaves a frustrated sigh and makes a hurry-up gesture with one hand while the other slides down between her legs to tease at her clit, heat and need thrumming through her. She watches him scrabble in his pockets for one, which he then carefully tears open. He tosses the wrapper to the floor and slides the condom on. When he's ready, she curls a hand in his shirt and pulls him closer. He huffs a laugh that turns into a low moan when she moves the hand between her legs between his.
"Come on," she says, not caring how desperate or needy she sounds now, not when she's so close to having him inside her where she aches.
"Are you sure?" he asks again, holding her gaze.
"God, yes," she answers. "Steve, please." He pushes inside and she has to close her eyes and tip her head back at how good it feels to be stretched and full. She pushes up as he thrusts and then she can't do anything but move, her hands clutching at his shoulders and her hips snapping up to meet his. "Harder," she moans, like something out of a bad porno, but she doesn't care. "I need you so bad," she whispers against his ear, ankles locked beneath the perfect curve of his ass as he fucks into her. He's braced above her on one arm, so she grabs his other hand and shows him how she likes to be touched. He's a quick study, and soon she's coming, finally, climax rolling through her like a tidal wave.
"It's okay, Darcy. I've got you." He presses a kiss to her cheek and then another to her mouth as she gasps out his name, her whole body clenching around him.
He fucks her through it, hard and steady, and she feels the tension build up again, rising through her body to steal her breath away. She comes again, her whole body going rigid in his arms, toes curling and lights sparking behind her eyelids. This time, he loses his rhythm and jerks hard against her as he comes, deep and hard inside her.
She slumps back on the sturdy cot and he pulls out carefully and disposes of the condom in the medical waste container by the door. It's then she realizes that he's still completely dressed in his uniform and still hard.
"Oh my god, I totally just fucked Captain America," she says, giggling breathlessly. "I rule." He gives her wide, smug grin in response. "Now take that off and get over here. I'm already feeling the need for round two."
"Ma'am, yes, ma'am," he replies, snapping off a jaunty salute before he strips down.
Darcy loses track of time and, after the fifth or sixth orgasm, she loses track of that, too. After each one now, the time before that desperate ache builds up inside her again is a little longer, which is good, because she's starting to get sore and overly sensitive, even when he's using his mouth instead of his dick or his hands.
Finally, though, there comes a point where she's sprawled on top of him on the cot, which is much sturdier than it looks, considering the workout they just gave it (and thank god for Tony's insistence on reinforcing all the furniture when he rebuilt the tower), and she just feels exhausted. They're both sticky and they stink of sweat and sex, and she's pretty sure this is when things get awkward, but she's too fucked out to really worry about it now.
"I'm sorry," she mutters into the hollow of his throat.
"What? No," he says, putting his hand under her chin and tipping her face up so she has to meet his gaze. His eyes are ridiculously blue and his lashes are stupidly long and, sure, he's Captain America, but right now he's just Steve and he looks a little like she just kicked his puppy. "Why are you sorry?"
"I didn't even shave my legs this morning," she says, glancing away. "And I owe you, like, a million dinners now, and I've probably ruined sex for you for life or something."
She can feel the laughter vibrate up from his belly and through his chest. "I really don't think any of that is a problem," he says, kissing the tip of her nose. "I'm happy to serve."
And she can't help but smile and kiss him back. "Seriously, though," she starts, but he shakes his head.
"Seriously," he says, "I'm glad that you trusted me enough to let me help you like this. That can't have been easy." He's watching her carefully and she raises her head to press kisses to the birthmarks on side of his neck and then to his mouth. It's soft and wet and sweet, all lip and no tongue.
Darcy swears to herself that she's never going to tell him that she didn't even know him when she wrote his name in that box, and that she's probably been easy for him for a while now. Instead she says, "But you're going to let me buy you dinner."
"At least once before we do this again," he says, smiling. "Maybe a movie, too."
"I can do that," she says. "I'll even shave my legs."
"I really don't care about that." He rubs a hand over her stubbly thigh, as if to prove a point, and she lets it go for now.
She yawns and stretches and then squirms around on top of him until she finds a comfortable position. "I could sleep forever."
He hums in agreement and lazily strokes her hair.
When they finally let Darcy and Steve out of the quarantine room, Jane tells them that they were able to synthesize an antidote to whatever it was Darcy was injected with, so it shouldn't be a problem again.
"Good," Darcy says.
Still, she makes sure Steve changes his answer on Form 7A WF 83429 to Darcy Lewis.