Work Header

electricity hitting metal

Chapter Text

Perfect, she thinks, balancing the blade in her fingertips. She twists her fingers and the grip fits perfectly in her palm. She darts her gaze around but the room is empty.


She tosses the blade back and forth between her hands, switching her grip and slicing the air.


She loses herself in the moment. Lips curving up in a wicked smile as the blade flies between her fingers.


A step sounds behind her and Darcy whirls adrenaline flooding her veins. He blocks her and Darcy flips the blade into her other hand. It’s only then that the navy uniform, the brown leather fingerless gloves register on her brain. Her grip falters and he plucks the knife from her fingers.


“Jesus, Steve,” Darcy says eyes wide.


“Care to explain...this?” Steve says holding the knife in his gloved hand.


“Not particularly?” she hedges and Steve’s eyebrows inch up.


“Grandpa D taught me.”


“Dugan taught you?”


“Well. duh.”


“It’s not in your file.”


“Playing with knives isn't something you put on your transcripts. Don’t tell my mother but he also taught me to shoot. Doesn't mean I want to be a secret agent no matter how hot the spandex is,” Darcy shrugs and  lets her gaze flick over Steve’s uniform. It’s not made out of spandex, she knows, rather some polymer that she can’t even  imagine trying to pronounce. “Wait you read my file?


The corner of Steve’s mouth ticks up, “You’re Dum Dum’s granddaughter.” of course I read your file, he doesn’t say.


Darcy blinks and for a moment she sees her grandfather’s face behind her eyelids. The whiskers of his mustache, the hat perched on his head whenever her grandma wasn’t there to shout at him for wearing it. He always had the best sweaters, thick and scratchy smelling of wool, cigars, and spicy aftershave. He’s been gone for years and still she misses the sound of his laugh, the smell of whisky on his breath and his stories.


“I am,” she says jutting her chin out. “You know he told the best stories about you.”


“I’m afraid to ask.”


“You should be,” Darcy says with a sharp grin. She reaches forward and plucks the knife from Steve’s hand.