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“Hey, Lewis, you coming out for drinks tonight?” Barclay shouted as they stepped off the transport carrier.

“Dude, it’s four-thirty on Saturday morning, I am not thinking about anything but getting home to my crappy little apartment, my lumpy mattress, and my pillow. When I wake up I have a date with tivo, Ben and Jerry.”

“Aw, come on! Barton’s gonna be there. You know what happened last time when that stag party blew through the door dressed as clowns and Clint accidentally set that one dude on fire. It was awesome.”

“Coulrophobia is not a laughing matter,” Darcy said dryly, though it hadn’t been an accident at all, the guy in question had been talking shit about the Avengers, specifically the Black Widow. “He didn’t even ask me to hold his flower.”

“What does that mean?” Barclay asked and Darcy sighed, hitching her bag up on her shoulder.

“You lead way too sheltered a life for an agent, B,” Darcy shook her head and stalked off towards the elevator, waving over her shoulder. “I’m outtie.”

Home was a miniscule apartment in a S.H.I.E.L.D. owned building, though it had its perks. Laundry and cleaning services, food delivery and refrigerator restock, and for those who filled out the right set of forms, or the direct order, there was pet care service available. Darcy didn’t have a pet, not since she was a kid and had a string of horrible deaths occur to her pet hamsters. Door locked tight, Darcy stripped off her coat and collapsed on her sofa. She was asleep within minutes of dragging the red afghan over her shoulders.

The shrill ringing of her phone woke her with a start sometime after lunch. Darcy rubbed the sleep from her eyes, read the text from Jane, and skimmed through her emails while she made coffee and nibbled on a cereal bar. She downed her coffee, showered, and was partway through getting dressed when the reality of Steve asking her to spend her leave with him crashed over her, and she dropped down on the edge of her bed.

“Don’t be an idiot. It’s just Steve,” she muttered to herself. Except that is the problem. Steve is Steve, and this whole thing is more than a bit overwhelming. Her mind filled with thoughts of all that could go wrong before Tuesday morning. What if they weren’t compatible aside from that electric buzz after a mission? Darcy pulled her hair up into a ponytail, tying it back with the hair band on her wrist, and shoved the growing panic down. She pulled on leggings and a soft aqua sweater that had a low v-neck and made her eyes pop. Dressed she felt ready to face the world, or Captain America in his apartment. Holy shit this was a terrible fucking idea.

Bag packed and before she could talk herself out of it, she pulled up Steve’s address on her Starkphone and hit the street. It wasn’t difficult to find, and despite stopping to get a box of condoms and caffeinated courage at the nearest Starbucks, she was standing on the doorstep to Steve’s building staring at the buzzer next to ‘S. Rogers’.

“The buzzer’s not going to bite you, darling,” said a friendly voice and Darcy twitched, fingers itching to grab her weapon. An older woman with purple hair and a pug with a purple sweater stood at the bottom of the stairs with a bag of groceries. Minimal threat.

“Excuse me?” Darcy replied, nonchalantly slipping her hand out of her bag.

“You look a little lost. Can I help you?”

“I’m not, I just...what if it doesn’t work out? What if I go up there and I ruin everything?” Darcy said, eyes wide.

“Ah, I see. Be a dear and help me with this bag of shopping. Come along, Clarence,” the woman nodded and looked down at the little pug.

“Of course,” Darcy replied, stepping down and taking the cloth shopping bag.

“Adelaide Fitzpatrick, you may call me Addy,”

“Darcy Lewis. It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs. Fitzpatrick,” Darcy smiled and followed Mrs. Fitzpatrick up the steps and into the building.

“Oh, you’re just as sweet as Steven,” Mrs. Fitzpatrick smiled and pressed the button on the old elevator.

“You know Steve?”

“Ah, is he your man? The one you are so worried over?”

“I’m not worried...I’m just...worried,” Darcy said and rolled her eyes at herself.

“Oh, to be young again,” Mrs. Fitzpatrick said tugging on Clarence’s leash as she stepped out onto the seventh floor. “This is me, darling.” Darcy waited patiently while Mrs. Fitzpatrick fished her keys from the bottom of her cavernous handbag and unlocked apartment 7A. “Thank you, darling. Your Steven is right down the hall in 7C.”

“You’re welcome, Mrs. Fitzpatrick. Have a lovely evening. You too, Clarence,” Darcy said handing over the shopping back and bending down to scratch behind Clarence’s floppy ears.

“Good luck, Darcy. I’ll take my hearing aids out, so you go and rock his world,” Mrs. Fitzpatrick smiled wickedly as Darcy blushed and awkwardly waved goodbye.

Darcy walked down the hall and stopped in front of 7C, raised her hand to knock and faltered, nibbling on her bottom lip. “It’s early he might not even be home,” she muttered and pressed her forehead to the door and took a deep breath, scolding herself for her cowardice. The sound of water running in the apartment filtered through the door and Darcy grinned, reaching into her bag.

One bad idea to go with all the rest, Darcy opened her lock picking kit and went to work on the lock. The building was old and the lock wasn’t very complicated; it only took a minute to pick it and push the door open. She stepped into the living room, breathing out slowly and shutting the door behind her. The shower was still running, and she took a few moments to map out the living room and kitchen area. The room was decorated in browns, with smaller touches of red and blue, dark furniture and framed movie and comic posters, and books—so many books on shelves and stacked on the coffee and side tables—her fingers itched to paw through them. Darcy trailed her hand along the back of the leather couch as she headed down the hallway following the sound of running water.

"You know you coulda knocked," Steve voice rumbled through the bathroom door.

"I could have, but it wouldn't have been as much fun as picking the lock,” Darcy said with a grin as she turned the handle on the bathroom door and pushed it open. “You really need a better lock. Anybody could get in."

“It’s not seven yet,” Steve said as he switched off the water.

“I was afraid if I waited till seven, I’d talk myself out of coming and then I would regret it. So you’ve got me here two hours earlier...” Darcy’s ramble petered out as Steve stepped out from behind the shower curtain and onto the rug. He reached for a towel, water droplets shining on his skin, and Darcy's mouth went dry. She knew he was gorgeous, his lopsided smile, that goddamned Captain America suit, hell she has had him in her body and inside her mouth but never seen him like this. Naked and wet. Fuck, it was a glorious sight: long limbs, rippling muscles, cock hard and flushed. Darcy shivered, desire coiling hotly in her belly. "Holy fuck, Steve.”

"Been thinkin' bout you," Steve said with a smirk as he dried his hair with the towel and dropped it to the floor.

"Shiny," she whispered as he stalked across the room and pulled her into his arms kissing her hard. He tugged her lip between his teeth, licked into her mouth. His skin was warm and damp beneath her hands as she clutched at his shoulders. Steve slipped his hands down to cup her ass, lifting her up against his body and Darcy wrapped her legs around his waist.

"Christ, Darcy," Steve groaned, pressing her back into the door frame and rocking his hips into her. "I had planned on cooking you dinner."

"You were going to cook for me?" she asked, tightening her legs, and scraped her nails up the back of his neck. "You can do that later."

"You have far too many clothes on," Steve murmured as he kissed along her throat. "I need you naked."

"Yes, sir," Darcy grinned and bit at the hinge of Steve's jaw. He rocked into her again, sending a jolt of heat down her spine and wet between her thighs. "Gotta put me down first."

"Yeah," Steve said, voice thick, and squeezed her ass possessively. Darcy reluctantly unhooked her crossed ankles and Steve let her slide to the floor. He pulled her sweater up over her head and trailed sucking kisses down her neck and the tops of her breasts spilling from her aqua and silver bra. Steve knelt down in front of her and kissed her belly as he lifted her right foot to remove her ballet pump.

"I can do that," Darcy said, swallowing thickly, and he lifted her left foot and slipped her shoe off, callused fingers massaging into the arch of her foot. "Okay, you can do that. Not gonna argue there."

"Good," Steve grinned and leaned into nip at her belly as his hands slid up to hook into her leggings. Darcy's eyes fluttered shut as he tugged her leggings and panties down, lifting one foot and then the other until she was naked save for her bra. He didn't even notice the panties matched her bra. "I noticed," Steve murmured as he slid his hand up between her thighs. "Mmm so wet."

"Oh," Darcy moaned gripping the doorframe above her head as Steve lifted her leg over his shoulder.

"Been dreamin' of this for weeks," he said as he spread her wide. A part of Darcy's brain started working on the puzzle of how long he had been thinking about her. She bit her lip to keep from asking the questions burning on her tongue. Steve pushed two blunt fingers into her, circled her clit with the tip of his tongue and every loud thought in Darcy's head fell silent.

"God," she cried, fingernails digging into the wood of the doorframe as Steve drove her higher. He lashed her clit with his tongue as he twisted his fingers and she came apart, vision blooming in shades of black and red.

"Hey there," Steve said with a smug grin when her eyes fluttered open. Darcy was in Steve's lap, his left arm wrapped around her back, his right hand still between her thighs.

"Condom. Bag," Darcy ordered, waving in the direction of her bag on the hall floor. Steve kissed her as he dragged his fingers slowly out of her body, and Darcy gasped and arched into him.

"Bossy," Steve grinned and licked his fingers clean.

"Want you inside me," Darcy said as she reached between them to curl her hand around his cock. Steve hissed, his eyes closing tightly shut as Darcy stroked him.

"Darce," Steve choked out before reaching for her bag, spilling the contents across the floor. Steve grabbed the box of condoms, tore it open and pulled out a strip of condoms. Darcy rubbed her thumb in a circle over the head of his cock until Steve tugged her hand away. "You can jerk me off later," he growled and Darcy shivered.

"So fucking hot," Darcy murmured, shifting up on her knees, hands roaming over Steve's chest.

"You too, doll," Steve said as he stroked himself once slowly and rolled the condom on. He slid his hand down to cup her ass, pulling her forward as he guided her down onto his cock.

"Fuck," Darcy gasped, nails digging into Steve's shoulders as she sank slowly down on him.

"I'm trying," he gritted out as he splayed his hand across her back. Darcy clenched around him and Steve's hips jerked. "Goddamn you're tight. You okay?"


"Good," Steve growled. Pulling her closer still, he fell back and rolled them over, one hand on her back the other cradled the back of her head. The movement was quick and Darcy clung to his shoulders as he pressed her into the floor. "Still okay?" he asked with a slow roll of his hips.

"God yes," Darcy hissed, wrapping her legs high on his back and bucking her hips up forcing him deeper within her. "Harder." Steve made a strangled noise, levering himself up on the hand that had cradled her head. Words spilled from her lips as he rocked in and out of her, an incoherent babble of his name interspersed with moans and a litany of half-formed curses.

Steve's breath was a harsh pant on her skin; it was hard and fast and so good. Darcy kept one hand on Steve's shoulder and tangled the other in his short cropped hair as the tensions built with each snap of Steve’s hips, each messy kiss and guttural curse. Her toes curled up and her nails raked across his skin as she came, colour burning bright behind her closed eyes.

His mouth pressed to her throat, hot and wet, when his hips lost their rhythm, her name shouted into her skin as he came, jerking hard against her. "Christ, Darce," he muttered into her neck as she stroked his back.

“Damn you got moves, Rogers,” she grinned, clenching around him. Steve grit his teeth, and shut his eyes tightly.

“Stop it,” Steve huffed out as he carefully withdrew from her and disposed of the condom in the garbage beside the sink. He collapsed beside her on the floor, flashing a smile that made traitorous butterflies dance in her belly and a shiver race down her spine. “Cold?” he asked wrapped his arm around her and pulling her onto his chest. “Better?”

“Mhmm,” Darcy murmured and brushed her mouth against his. “Much better.” For a few minutes it was bliss, soft kisses and gentle touches until her belly rumbled, and Steve started shaking with laughter beneath her. “What were you saying about food? I may have forgotten to eat anything but coffee and an energy bar today,” Darcy said with a grimace as she tried very hard to ignore the stain of embarrassment burning on her cheeks.

“I’ll make us some dinner then,” Steve said as he grinned up at her, his hands firmly planted on her ass keeping her from moving. Darcy pushed herself up to sitting in his lap, and Steve groaned, his hips rocking up into her; his hands tightened on her ass. He was more than half hard beneath her and she was deciding that food could wait a little longer when her belly rumbled in protest. “Up girl, let’s get you fed. Then I’m taking you to bed.”

“Anyone ever tell you that you make excellent plans?” Darcy grinned and reached for her sweater to pull it over her head.

“Pretty sure the opposite is true,” Steve muttered, sitting up, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He dressed himself in a pair of jeans, a grey Henley, and though she thought it was a terrible shame for him to not be wandering around naked, he definitely looked damn fine. Darcy fished out a pair of clean panties from her bag and Steve groaned. “The bedroom is just down the hall,” he said voice slightly strained.

“Yes, Captain,” Darcy grinned, offering up a cheeky salute.

“Don’t start,” he said with a shake of his head as he stepped out into the hall and headed for the kitchen. Darcy closed her eyes and leaned against the wall. God, she was so going to end up over her head on this one. She gathered the spilled contents of her bag on the floor, left her toiletries bag in the bathroom and went down the hall. The bedroom was decorated in the same masculine style as the living room: dark furniture, cream walls, forest green quilt on the bed, no personal pictures on display, but paintings and a few framed vintage magazines covered the walls, a bookcase stacked neatly with books, and a few scattered trinkets that begged to be picked up.

She dropped her bag on a plush green chair in the corner by one of the two large windows. A book balanced on the arm, and she ran her fingers over the spine as she eyed the slanted desk beside the other window. Her mind offered up the fact from what she read of Steve’s file, that prior to enlisting he had been enrolled in art school. She glanced at the door and stepped over to the desk ran her fingers along the stack of heavyweight paper and the leather cover of a sketchbook.

“Darcy? You want a drink?” Steve called from down the hall startling her.

“Please,” she shouted, heading back down the hall, fingertips trailing along the wall. The kitchen walls are painted a soft cornflower blue, the fridge, stove, and gleaming toaster all have the same retro look. It’s warm and inviting and reminds Darcy of her grandmother’s kitchen when she was little.

“This looks like my grandmother’s kitchen,” Darcy said as she leaned in the doorway watching Steve bend over to place a large square dish in the oven.

“S.H.I.E.L.D. thought it would be helpful for my adjustment,” he grimaced, closing the oven door and setting the timer. “It’s lasagna for dinner, I hope that’s okay?”

“Lasagna is my favorite, just call me Garfield. I like the kitchen; it feels like home. Although does this mean you have frilly aprons? Grandma always had the best aprons,” Darcy smiled as she crossed the room. A little ball of black and orange fur tumbled across Steve’s bare toes, and Darcy’s step faltered as the ball of fur arched up, hissing and spitting, careened into a cupboard door and skittered out of the room. “You have a kitty?”

“She’s my Canary,” Steve replied, a small half-smile curved up his mouth, but there were shadows in his eyes.

“You named your cat Canary?” Darcy grinned and bounced on her toes. Steve’s gaze dropped down to her cleavage and back up again before he busied himself with the vegetables on the counter, deftly slicing tomatoes and dropping them into a large bowl filled with green leaves.

“She’s my canary in a coal mine. My therapist said I was having trouble connecting, that I needed to have a touchstone and a way of integrating into this future world. He said a pet might help. I didn’t listen. I was out on the road a while back and stopped for lunch at a diner. I heard her mewing from the alley way and found her in a soggy cardboard box. She was tiny, fit in my shirt pocket, I fed her a few drops of cream from the diner and, well, I kept her,” Steve shrugged and Darcy reached out to run her hand along his back.

“Therapy?” Darcy asked. Giving into the impulse to hug him, she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face into the soft cotton of his shirt, breathing in his scent before reluctantly releasing him and taking a careful step to the side to lean against the counter.

“Didn’t you read my file, Miss Lewis? I’m disappointed,” Steve said dryly turning to look at her holding up an onion. “Onion?”

“Ew, not in salad. Gross! Yeah, of course I read it, don’t be absurd. I read everyone’s file. Really they should know better than to allow me access to their file systems. I didn’t look at your psych eval—that wouldn’t be right,” Darcy said as Steve chopped up an orange pepper. She stole an olive from the salad bowl.

“But it was perfectly okay to read the rest of my file?” he asked as he grabbed a carrot and sliced into it far too quickly.

“Oh, like you haven’t read mine, Captain? If it helps I didn’t read your file until after the, um, Masterson thing. You know the hotel,” Darcy said rubbing her nose to hide her red face from Steve’s gaze.

“You’re blushing,” Steve smirked as he set aside the knife.

“Nope,” Darcy said, shaking her head, grabbing a slice of carrot, and tossing it into her mouth. The carrot missed, and bounced off her lip and fell to the floor. “This food is problematic,” Darcy muttered as the slice of carrot bounced across the floor to be pounced on by a streak of black and orange. Canary growled, gave Darcy and Steve a dirty look, and stalked out of the kitchen with her kill in her jaws. “I think I love your cat,” Darcy said with a grin and elbowed Steve in the belly.

“Hey, that hurt,” he pouted rubbing his stomach.

“Aw, poor baby. Want me to kiss it better?”

“Later, you can kiss everything better,” Steve smiled eyes glinting with mischief.

“That so?”

“Yeah,” Steve said voice low and rasping. His eyes raked down her body and Darcy shivered. He pulled her into his chest, kissing her until her mouth was red and swollen and she was dizzy with want. The only sound in the room their panted breaths and the insistent buzzing of the oven timer.