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Retro (ret ro)
adjective 1. Involving, relating to, or reminiscent of things from the past; retrospective.

 

Steve sits alone in his small apartment staring blankly at the files on his desk and the dark screen of the SHIELD issued laptop in front of him when there is a knock at the door. He frowns and carefully folds down the laptop as he stands up to answer the door. Nobody visits him here. He doesn’t know anyone but the team and a handful of agents he bothered to remember the names of. “Hello.” He says as he opens the door and is pushed aside by a blur of dark curls, red lips and a blue dress.

“Miss Lewis,” Steve mumbles mildly confused at the whirlwind that is Darcy Lewis as she shoves a covered dish into his hands and makes a beeline for his kitchen. “Er Come in?” He mutters dryly, fumbling to close the still open door with his foot. He knows Darcy lives in his building, knows that she is in training with SHIELD that she works for Coulson. They have talked a few times, once sat in the kitchen drinking coffee, when she wasn’t busy trailing after Coulson or Dr. Foster “What are you doing here Miss Lewis?”

“Do you have any idea how long it takes to do 1940s hair? I was lucky I found this dress in that thrift store two blocks over, you know the one with the scary ass mannequin without eyes? Where’s the Doctor when you need him,” Darcy says blithely ignoring his question and points at her carefully styled hair, hands waving about as she hunts for dishes and cutlery in his tidy kitchen and begins to set his small table. Steve looks up from the warm dish he is awkwardly holding to look Darcy over. Her hair is indeed pinned in perfect curls atop her head in the style he remembers from his time. She swishes over to his stereo system muttering to herself as she pops her iPod into the dock he has never used. “I brought dinner. Beef and ale stew, my grandma’s favourite recipe. Don’t say you aren’t hungry just to be polite. We both know that would be a lie, and this has been cooking for hours. I’m starving.”

Darcy turns around as Glenn Miller plays through his speakers. She is biting her red painted lips, spots of colour high on her cheekbones. Her fingers tangle nervously in the skirt of her blue spotted dress before she turns round quickly heading for his refrigerator. She looks like she stepped out of time, his time, with her glossy curls, red leather heels with straps around the ankles, her soft curves in that blue spotted dress. “Retro,” he whispers to himself, the word is bitter on his tongue. Steve watches the swing of her hips and the flash of her stockings with more interest than he knows he probably should. He isn’t sure how he feels about that. “But why…why are you here? In my apartment,” Steve blurts out as he places the covered dish on his small table. “I’m sorry that was rude. My mother would never forgive me for bad manners.”

“It’s ok Rogers,” Darcy replies as she places a bottle of milk on the table. “I’m here because Son of Coul…Agent Coulson is worried you aren’t doing well. That you are lonely, you isolate yourself and don’t play well with others.... unless it’s on the battlefield. Which is really absurd, when you think about it. I mean being antisocial is practically part of SHIELD’s admissions test.” Darcy rambles as she sits down at the table and gestures to Steve who obediently sits down across from her. “Look we live in the same crappy building. I’m Coulson’s minion and when you aren’t busy saving a world that you don’t know anymore we have shared a cup of coffee in Stark’s overly shiny kitchen. Sometimes I feel lost too. I don’t know how it feels to be thrown around in time but I know about finding yourself in a place you don’t expect yourself to be. I mean who really expects to have gods fall out of the sky and hit them with a car, then taser their drunk asses. That was totally Jane’s fault by the way, the car not the taser, I totally knocked Thor on his ass with Alice. Alice is my taser, was my taser, Coulson confiscated it.

I survived a giant fire breathing robot destroying the town and then I end up working for a super secret government agency because I know too much,” Darcy huffed. “I thought maybe I could help make things a bit better…more like home,” Darcy falters a bit playing with her cutlery and biting her lip before meeting Steve’s gaze. “Look you’re a nice guy. You open doors and sign Coulson’s cards every time he gets a new one from Ebay and Craigslist. You may have punched Hitler but you have terrible taste in clothing, and excellent taste in sci-fi but I see you looking out the windows with that frown, that pinched look when the sorrow is eating you. I think you need a friend. A friend, that isn’t a superhero or a genius,” Darcy’s eyes dropped again, her small hands tightly grasping the edge of the table as she took a steadying breath. “Besides you manage to look at my face when I talk to you. So shut up and eat your dinner, Ok Cap?”

“Steve. Please just Steve,” he mutters rubbing at the back of his neck and smiling ruefully. He does look her in the eye when they have spoken, but other times, well he is only human no matter what else the serum did to him he is still a man and Darcy’s got curves that his hands ache to draw, ache to do more than that, but he won’t let himself think about that.

 

“Okay Steve, but you have got to call me Darcy,” Darcy smiles and he’s pretty sure that smile can light up a room. She reaches across the tables and squeezes his hand gently. “So friends?”

Steve nods and can’t help returning her smile as he reached for the lid of the stew. “I think I’d like that Miss….I’d like that a lot Darcy.”

 

Fin.