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"My hands are cold. Let me put them in your pants,"Darcy says as she stalks into the communal kitchen rubbing her hands together to get her circulation going.

 

Steve turns from where he's leaning against the breakfast bar reading the paper and sipping from a  #1 Avenger mug. His eyebrows arch up towards his hairline in surprise. "Go ahead," he says, voice far too full of amusement.

 

Darcy narrows her eyes, cocks her head to the side. Steve stares at her coolly, hands held up and lips twitching in amusement.  "Fine," she says.

 

"Fine," Steve echoes.

 

She steps right into his space, wraps her arms around his impossibly small waist and slips her hands under the elastic of his sweats. A startled laugh escapes her when she finds only bare skin under her hands. Captain America goes commando. His muscles flex and twitch under her palms.

 

"Christ, your hands are cold," Steve says into her hair. His hands skimming lightly over her back.

 

He smells good. Spicy and warm and she's so tempted to plaster herself to him. Leech out every bit of warmth he has to give her. Never mind the ridiculousness of this moment. The fact that they have barely ever touched before and here they are with their arms wrapped around each other in the Avengers kitchen. She wavers for one long minute between dissolving into hysterical laughter or word vomiting all over him. Tilting her head back she meets his very blue and very amused eyes. "So...um...what do we do now?"

 

"You're the one with your hands on my ass, Darcy, why don't you tell me?"

 

Darcy blows out a puff of air, "You really weren't supposed to agree with the stupid stuff I say this early in the morning," Darcy says. She gives his ass a firm squeeze and Steve's warm hands settle low on her back above her own ass. Ever the gentleman, she thinks, despite a crazy chick with her hands down your pants. "God you're warm."

 

"Er, thanks."

 

"Mmm," Darcy hums softly, letting her eyes fall closed. Just one more minute.

 

Really she should move, step back and any number of things, but Steve's fingers are rubbing tiny circles into the small of her back and it is delicious.

 

"Think your hands warm enough yet?" Steve rumbles into her ear.

 

"Maybe."

 

"Pretty sure I can't take you along if there is a call to assemble," Steve says. She hears the grin in his voice before she opens her eyes to see it spread across his stupid pretty face.

 

"Don't be an ass," Darcy says rolling her eyes. She scratches nails over his skin and a needy sound escapes Steve's lips. "Well I better..." She starts but the words dry up as Steve's hips jerk forward closing the gap between them. She can feel him hard against her belly, through layers of cotton and the favorite sweater she's wearing.

 

"Hell," Steve says low.

 

"Help me out here, Steve, before I say something to embarrass us both forever," she says. Chances are about nine thousand percent and rising that she would. Probably more so. And both of them are stubborn and foolhardy enough to jump right in.

 

"More than asking to stick your hands down my pants?"

 

"When you put it that way," Darcy says scrunching up her face. Steve laughs low and ducks his head down to kiss her. Her eyes widen and flutter shut as his mouth slants over hers. His teeth sink into her bottom lip, and a needy moan escapes her. Steve smiles into the kiss, mouth curving up and Darcy drags her short nails over his ass and up the small of his back under the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

 

Their mouths part and Darcy buries her flushed face in cotton of his t-shirt. She'd laugh if she had the breath to do more than grin into his shoulder. Steve's palms slide down her ass, cupping and lifting her just enough to leave her in no doubt of how hard he is against her belly. "Wow," she breathes out. "Well I've learned one thing from this."

 

"What's that?" Steve says voice equally as unsteady as hers.


"I am never wearing gloves again."