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Monday morning finds Darcy curled half atop Steve, the sheets crumpled around her hips. She arched her back, stretching out sore muscles, and pushed her tangled hair out of her face. Steve sighed, wrapped his arm around her back, and pulled her closer.

"Mornin'," Steve rumbled, a slow smile lighting up his face, blue eyes blinking slowly in the morning light.

"Morning," Darcy smiled in return, butterflies swirling madly in her belly as she brushed her mouth against his.

Steve hummed happily as they traded soft slow kisses that warmed her blood and sent sparks of pleasure skittering down her spine. He cupped her ass as he licked into her mouth and rolled his hips. Steve slid his hand down the back of her thigh to grasp the back of her knee and pulled her completely over him, the hard length of his cock against her core. Darcy grinned against Steve's mouth, pushed herself up with her hands on his shoulders, and rolled her hips slowly.

"Darce," Steve groaned, tangling his hand in her hair to fuse their mouths back together. Darcy shook her head no, shuffling back to pepper his chest with butterfly kisses and teasing licks. Steve's hands fell away to curl in the sheets as she kissed a line down his stomach, her breasts dragging along his abdomen.

"Christ, Darce," Steve groaned his cock jerking between her tits as she drew patterns on his skin with the tip of her tongue. Darcy grinned, inching lower, breath fanning out over Steve's cock. She met Steve's eyes as she pressed a feather light kiss to the tip of his dick, a smear of precome on her bottom lip.

Steve's face was flushed, his eyes shut tight as Darcy licked the underside of his cock. She teased the slit with the tip of her tongue and a streak of black and orange landed on Steve's chest. “Fuck,” Steve snarled, and Canary batted at his face with her small paw, purring loudly. Darcy dragged her lip between her teeth trying to keep the grin off her face as Canary butted her head against Steve’s nose.

"Goddamn it, Canary," he muttered, scooping up the cat and dropping her on the mattress. Canary meowed piteously, jumped right back onto his chest, and began kneading him with her paws.

"Oh, my god. You just got cockblocked by your pussy," Darcy laughed, sitting up on her knees and clapped her hands together.

"S'not funny Darce."

"Yes, yes it is," Darcy snorted, covering her mouth with her hand as Canary batted at Steve's mouth again. "I think she's trying to tell you something. Something that begins with 'feed' and ends in 'me'."

The cat meowed in Steve's face, and Darcy gave up on being sensible and rolled off Steve onto the mattress in hysterics. "Goddamn it," Steve grumbled as he scooped up Canary, sat up, and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Canary leapt out of Steve's hands, sauntered halfway across the room, and looked back over her shoulder expectantly. "I'll be right back."

Darcy hummed in response, rolling over on her side to watch as Steve crossed the room, Canary tumbling about his feet happily. "I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave," she murmured to herself, stretching to snag Steve's button down shirt off the floor, and pulled it on.

"Stop it, Canary," Steve's voice echoed from the hall a few minutes later, and Darcy grinned, burying her nose in the cuff of Steve's shirt, breathing in his lingering scent. She picked up one of the condoms scattered on the bedside table, squealed as she stood on the cold floor, and trailed out of the room.

When she stepped into the kitchen, Steve was leaning on the counter, Canary beside his crossed ankles growling into her food dish. There was tomato sauce on the corner of his mouth from the slice of cold pizza in his hand.

"Right back, huh?" Darcy smirked, eyes trailing down Steve's chest to his half-hard cock.

"Um, sorry," Steve said sheepishly, ducking his head.

"You're adorable," Darcy said, placing her hand on his chest, pressing up on her toes to kiss his chin. She slid her hand down the warm contours of Steve's chest and stomach to wrap her fingers around his hardening cock. "I think..."

"Yeah?" Steve said, dropping the slice of pizza on the counter. He pulled open the edges of her shirt and cupped her bare breasts with warm calloused hands.

"You need to fuck me," she said, punctuating her words with a slow stroke. “Then make me coffee and bacon.”

“I can do that,” Steve grinned, spreading his feet apart, his thumbs flicking over her nipples. Darcy gasped, her hand tightening on his cock, and Steve’s hips jerked forward. Steve leaned forward sucking Darcy’s bottom lip, his hands sliding down from her breasts and around to grip her ass. She ran the pad of her thumb over the head of Steve’s cock and released him to tear open the condom wrapper. Darcy rolled the condom on and Steve grit his teeth, his hands flexed on her ass then slid down to her thighs as he lifted her up and twisted. The counter was cold beneath her ass, Steve a furnace between her spread thighs. “You ready for me?”

“God yes,” Darcy said as the phone on the counter began vibrating and bursting into AC/DC.

“Bastard,” Steve muttered as he fumbled for the phone, slid his thumb across the screen to answer. "What is it, Stark?" Steve frowned, his fingers twitching on Darcy’s hip.

"Sorry to wake you from your beauty sleep, Cap."

"I was already up," Steve said, grimacing down at himself. Darcy's eyes widened and she slapped her hand over her mouth to keep her later from escaping. Steve rolled his eyes, stretched out his thumb to circle her clit.

"There's a situation, Captain Surly Pants."

"I'll leave for HQ in twenty."

"Fury's sent a car, It’ll be there in ten, then it's party time, mon Capitain."

"Fine," Steve said, swiping his thumb across the screen ending the call. He tossed the phone and Darcy watched it soon across the counter top coming to rest against a haphazard stack of books. Steve wrapped his hand around the base of his cock and circled the head against her opening.

"Avengers assemble?"

Steve grunted in response, hand tightened on her hip as he pushed into her. "Hard and fast?"

“God yes,” Darcy said, tightening her legs around Steve’s waist.


It’s been 5 days 14 hours and 35 minutes, give or take, since Steve left on the assemble. Not that she’d been thinking about how long he’s been gone. How long since he curled around her in his sleep, since he kissed her, since he was inside her. She didn’t think of the scratches she left on his back, the bruises that bloomed on her hips, and all the muscles that ached for days afterwards. No not at all.

God she was such a liar.

“We’ll be at the location in five minutes,” Agent Cho said from the driver’s seat.

“Thanks, Agent Cho,” she said flicking down the passenger mirror. Darcy frowned at her reflection, smoothed her hair back into the tight knot at the base of her neck, reapplied her lipstick, and made a ridiculous kissy face at the mirror. She pulled out her phone to check the details one last time.

It was a simple enough operation—meet with William Skinner and ascertain the importance of the file he was offering to sell. Darcy even had two lower level agents, Alexander Cho and Michael Wesson, to boss around. Being in Coulson’s menagerie of misfits had its perks, some of the time anyway. The job was never boring; well, maybe the paperwork was, but the job changed from day to day, or at least from week to week. Her hacking and computer skills were used more often than anything, but most everyone had to pull double and triple duty as an agent.

The bar they were meeting Skinner in was well outside the city. Darcy stepped out of the SUV and straightened out her charcoal grey suit. The air outside smelled of green growing things and smoke from the two men loitering by the door. Gravel crunched beneath her black leather boots, and the cool wind raised gooseflesh on her thigh through the split in her skirt. Wesson and Cho scouted out the building and Darcy made her way to the bar, ordered a drink, and perched herself on a barstool facing the main set of doors.

Led Zeppelin wailed out of tinny speakers and when the doors opened, in walked Steve. Darcy nearly dropped her drink. His hair was a mess—none of that old man product in it—black leather jacket, dark jeans, and several days growth of beard covered his face. His left eyebrow twitched up as his eyes roamed over her. He smiled, slow and crooked, as he stalked towards her at the bar, and her belly flipped.

"What are you doing here?" Darcy blurted out when Steve sat down on the empty stool beside her.

“And here I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

“Shouldn’t that be my line?” Darcy grinned and ran her index finger around the rim of her glass. “I am happy to see you. I’m glad you’re back from wherever you’ve been that is far, far above my pay grade to know, but…why are you here?”

"Coulson said you might want an extra pair of hands so..." Steve shrugged, grabbed a handful of peanuts from the bowl between them, and nodded at the grey haired bartender.

"And you won't interfere?" she asked, tapping her fingers on the bar and fighting the urge not to lean into him. The scent of leather, cedar, and musk teased at her nose and more than anything she wished she could bury her face in his neck and wrap herself in him.

"Why would I interfere in your op?"

"Because you're bossy.”

"Because I'm bossy?" Steve asked innocently, and Darcy rolled her eyes, toying with the straw in her drink.

"Ass," Darcy muttered under her breath and took a sip from her glass to hide her grin. So many thoughts spun around her head. She wanted to tell him she missed him, missed his smile and that crooked smirk that made her toes curls and sparks of pleasure prickle down her spine, that she even missed his damn cat. God, she was ridiculous. They only spent two days together.

Get a fucking grip, Darcy.

Steve sipped his beer as he scanned the room, a smirk curving up the corner of his mouth when he shifted on his bar stool. He ghosted the backs of his fingers along the slit in her pencil skirt. Darcy’s breath caught in her throat and she tightened her grip on her glass. “Ste—”

"Agent Lewis, Skinner has exited a taxi and is headed towards the main entrance," Cho's voice crackled through the com line.

"Shiny, let's be bad guys," Darcy said into her com.

"But we're the good guys," Wesson said, and Steve huffed out a quiet laugh beside her.

"Wesson, you know you really need to watch something other than porn when Rogers understood a modern pop culture reference that you didn't."

"I don't—"

"Everyone does. I see Skinner," Darcy said, taking one last sip of her drink and wishing it was something a little stronger.

"Do you?" Steve asked beside her, amused.

"Why whatever are you referring to, Captain?" Darcy asked brows arched high as she slipped off her bar stool. Steve's left eyebrow twitched as he looked her in the eyes. "I prefer my porn of the literary variety, but there are always exceptions to be made," Darcy grinned as she smoothed her hands down her skirt.

"I'll make a note of that," Steve said, eyes following the movement of her hands.

"You do that, Rogers," she said, wetting her lips and taking a steadying breath. Steve’s gaze fell heavy on her mouth then darted back to scanning the room through the mirrored glass behind the bar. Darcy focused her thoughts and took a small step away from the bar. Steve caught her hand, his warm calloused fingers lacing with hers for a heartbeat before sliding away.

Skinner was medium height, medium build, and twitchy as fuck when he sat down at a booth, leering at a passing waitress. "You can do this, Lewis. What Would Coulson Do," she muttered to herself as she walked through the bar.

"Good evening Mr. Skinner, I'm Agent Darcy Lewis with the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division," she said as she stepped up to Skinner's booth.

"Listen girly, I don't have time for this. Where's your boss?" Skinner said as he leered at her tits.

"My boss is busy watching Supernanny, I'd really rather not disturb him. May I remind you that you’re the one that contacted us, Mr. Skinner.

"Look bitch—"

"Mr. Skinner, I am an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.; there are three other agents in the vicinity. I have the authority to take you in or I can leave you drooling on the floor without the aid of a single one of them. The floor doesn't look very clean,” Darcy said doing her best impression of Coulson. “Now, do you have the files or are you just here wasting my time and the government’s money?"

“I have the file on a thumb drive,” Skinner grimaced, patting down his pockets and held up a key shaped thumb drive.

“Excellent,” Darcy smiled holding out her hand.

“I’m not giving it to you. I want to speak to—”

“Enough, Mr. Skinner,” Darcy snapped, taking a step closer to the table as four men at a table along the back wall got up brandishing standard issue AKs. “Get down,” Darcy hissed and shoved Skinner under the table and slid down beside him as she pulled her .45 from her back holster.

“Friends of yours?” she snarled, scanning what little she could see in the chaos of the room. Men and women were scrambling away from the group of heavily armed men dressed in standard bad guy black. One woman screamed as Stereotypical Bad Guy One grabbed her by the hair and another man threw himself at the plate glass window, bounced off it, and landed in a bloody heap on the floor. She could just make out Steve as he pushed someone through a door beside the bar.

“I didn’t know,” Skinner muttered, shaking his head back and forth and grabbing at Darcy’s arm. Darcy frowned and shoved his arm away.

“Skinner sold his soul and hell is empty of douchebags for they are here. How many, Rogers? I can see a couple of Stereotypical Bad Guys from my position on the floor.”

“Four inside. We need to get the civilians out of here. Cho? Wesson? Report.”

“Two down out here and three men in green headed towards the south exit. Wesson’s been compromised,” Cho shouted through his com.

“Shit,” Darcy muttered as the doors opened, revealing three men in matching dark green jackets. “I think they double booked the reception.”

“I want my deposit back,” Steve said as one of the men in green shoved his weapon in the face of the grey haired bartender. “Cho, go around the back exit and get the civilians out of here.”

“Sir, yes sir,” Cho said as sirens blared in the distance above the shouts in the bar. Steve stepped in between the Green Meanie with the gun and the terrified bartender.

“Where’s Skinner?” Green Meanie shouted in Steve’s face.

“Fuck,” Darcy muttered as Steve punched Green Meanie One in the jaw and sent one of them flying across the bar. “Come on, Skinner, give me the thumb drive and we’ll get you the fuck out of here,” Darcy said, holding out her hand. Skinner dropped the drive in her hand and she tucked it away in her bra before crawling out from under the table. “Come on!”

Skinner followed after her as she crawled towards the crowd of people being corralled out the back exit by Agent Cho. Darcy turned her back towards Cho and the civilians as one of the Green Meanies shot one of the Stereotypical Bad Guys in the head. Coulson was going to kill her for not remembering as many details as possible. “Cho, get Skinner out of here!” Darcy shouted, shoving Skinner into the crowd.

One of the Stereotypical Bad Guys, the one with the most fantastic unibrow Darcy’d ever witnessed outside of a cartoon, knocked her sidearm out of her hand, grabbed her arm, and levelled his gun towards Skinner’s retreating back. Darcy’s training kicked in and she blocked the shot, knocking the arm of the heavyset man up. The bullet hit one of the light fixtures, and a shower of sparks rained down around them. “Dude, you fugly,” Darcy spat and attempted to knee him in the balls, but Fugly turned and her knee met with his meaty thigh.

“Where the fuck did Skinner go, bitch?” Fugly snarled, pistol-whipping her in the face. Darcy tried to dodge but the gun still grazed her jaw with enough force that stars sparked across her field of vision.

“Darcy,” Steve screamed as she let her body go limp. Darcy dropped down to her knees, twisted her arm free to pull her pen sized Tesla series Taser from her boot. She pressed down the trigger mechanism and shot Fugly in the balls.

“Say hello to my little friend, asshole,” Darcy snarled as Fugly fell to the floor twitching and drooling.

“Darcy, get the fuck out of here,” Steve shouted as he tossed a bar stool at the head of a Green Meanie. Darcy ignored him, picked up her gun and began patting down Fugly as he twitched. She found a Starkphone in his jeans and she slipped it into her pocket. A fire burst into life in the spilled liquor behind the scarred wooden bar. One of the Stereotypical Bad Guys had his gun aimed at Steve’s back, and before Darcy could think, she raised her firearm, aimed, and pulled the trigger. The bullet hit his arm and he wailed, gun falling from his hand to the glass, and liquor drenched floor.

“Goddamn it, you don’t listen,” Steve swore, jumping over a fallen table.

“Dude, I totes saved your ass,” Darcy snapped back, shoving a loose strand of hair out of her eyes. Steve grabbed her around the waist, tossed her over his shoulder carried her out of the bar. He dropped to the ground, covered her with his body. Darcy opened her mouth to speak when the bar exploded behind them. She buried her nose into Steve’s neck, breathing him in, and dug her fingers into the leather of his jacket, trapped between his warm weight and the unforgiving asphalt.

“What is it with you and blowing shit sky high?” Darcy asked as Steve rolled off of her and bounced up on the balls of his feet ready for the next onslaught. She pushed herself up off the ground and dusted off her hands. Debris rained down around them, flames curling higher.

“If I said it wasn’t my fault would you believe me?” Steve joked, though his jaw was tense.

“Nope. Not even a little bit,” Darcy said, lips quirking in a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“You okay?” Steve asked, eyes raking over her, his hands twitching at his sides when he focused on the red mark on her jaw. That was going to bruise like a son of a bitch.

“Bruised, and a cut on my leg. M’okay, I just—” Darcy replied, cutting off her words as Cho’s voice crackled through the com.

“Captain Rogers, I have Skinner in custody and found Wesson. He’s been shot in the shoulder and is unconscious, but alive.”

“I’ll call it in Agent. Head back to HQ.”

“Agent Lewis—”

“I’ll take Agent Lewis back to HQ, son,” Steve said, pulling the com out of his ear and stuffing it into a pocket of his coat.

“Son?” Darcy asked and Steve shrugged, flashing a tight lipped grin leading the way across to the far end of the parking lot.

“Holy shit, you brought the bike!” Darcy exclaimed as she slipped her weapon into the holster hidden at the small of her back.

“Yeah,” Steve said, voice rough. His jaw clenched tight, nostrils flaring as he straddled the bike and held a hand out to her. Darcy took his hand and got on the bike behind Steve, squeezed his hand before letting go to wrap her arms around his waist. “You sure you’re okay?”

“M’fine, just go,” Darcy said, slipping her hand under his jacket to rest against the thin cotton covering his stomach. It wasn’t touching skin, but it was close enough. Darcy nuzzled into the leather of Steve’s jacket, breathing in the mingled scents of leather, metal, smoke, sweat, and the lingering scent of his aftershave. She sighed, clutching tight as his warmth seeped into her.

Darcy closed her eyes and let the wind pull her hair out of its neat twist as they hit the road. She felt every breath Steve took and she slipped her hand down to worm under his t-shirt to touch bare skin. She tried to blame the bumps and vibrations for the state of her panties, but she knew it was just Steve, being pressed up against his back, her hand on the hot skin of his belly.


Breasts pressed firm to Steve’s back, nipples aching, Darcy breathed deeply, nails scratching on Steve’s skin. She could feel the tension rippling through him, the muscles of his abdomen twitching under her hand. Steve slowed the bike down, turning off onto a narrow gravelled lane, and from there onto a dirt road nearly swallowed up by bushes and trees. He parked the bike and kicked down the stand, his boots firm on the ground. The leaves whispered in the wind and a siren wailed in the distance.

“Steve?” Darcy said, torn between holding him and getting off the bike to see his face in the evening light. The need to see him overruled everything else as she swung her leg over to stand. “Talk to me.”

She was barely on her feet before he wrapped an arm around her and dragged her to straddle his lap, his hands on her thighs, pushing her skirt to bunch around her waist. His mouth crashed hot and demanding on hers, licking at the seam of her lips until she opened for him. He tasted like beer and chocolate, bitter and sweet on her tongue. “I need you,” Steve said, voice thick with need, his hands digging into her skin.

"Yes," Darcy gasped and rocked in his lap, hands curling around the edges of his jacket. Steve's hand moved to his belt and tugged it free. She kissed him again, tongues tangling as she pushed his hands aside to unzip his jeans. Steve hissed as his naked cock sprang out into her hand. "Fuck, Steve. No underwear?"

"No," he choked out as she circled her hand around him, stroked him, slow and firm. "Darce, please." Steve slipped his hand between her legs, tugged at the fabric of her panties until the cotton tore.

"Fuck,” Darcy cried, toes curling as she sank down on him. Darcy wrapped her legs around Steve’s waist and let him move her, his hands digging possessively into her thighs.

She could feel every inch, every ridge of his cock filling her. All she could do is hold on, hands clutched his shoulders, mouth pressed to his throat, tongue and teeth on skin.

“Come for me. Now,” Steve growled, his hands tightening on her thighs. Darcy tilted her head back, slipped her hand between them, and circled her fingertips against her clit, moan spilling from her lips as Steve’s echoed into her skin.

“Steve!” she cried out as she came, eyes clenched tight as she went rigid in his arms. Steve fucked her through it, hard and fast, his hands lifting her as he rolled his hips. His mouth was hot against her skin, her name stuttered against her throat. He jerked hard against her as he came, spilling inside her.

Steve slid his hands up from her thighs to wrap around her back in a tight embrace, his face buried in her neck. Darcy held on just as tightly, fisting his jacket in her hands as aftershocks coursed through her.

"You okay?" Steve said as he pulled back to examine her face, running pads of his fingers carefully over the bruise blooming on her jaw.

"I'm no glassjaw, Steve. I can take a punch."

"You did good back there, Darce," Steve said, cradling her jaw, thumb brushing over her bottom lip.

"I did my job," Darcy said, closing her eyes and leaning into his hand.

"You were amazing. You're always amazing," Steve said softly and gently kissed her lips. The kiss was closed-mouthed and tender, achingly sweet. Tears prickled at her eyes and she curled into him, pressing her forehead against his shoulder as the first tears slipped down her cheeks. "Darcy?" he asked quietly.

"I'm sorry, I should...we should...fuck," she said, shaking her head against his shoulder. Steve's hand slid up her neck and cradled the back of her head.

"You okay?"

"Yes? I mean I'm not, but I am, and that was really fucking intense," Darcy said, taking a deep breath and raising her head.

"The bar or the sex?" Steve asked, mouth curving into a small smirk, but there was tension around his eyes.

“Both,” Darcy said, squirming under the intensity of Steve’s gaze.

"Shit. No condom," Steve said, eyes wide, hand twitching on her back.

"Birth control. It's fine," Darcy said and kissed the corner of Steve’s mouth.

“You’re sure?” he asked, tone more uncertain than Darcy ever remembered hearing it.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” she said, biting her lip as she unlocked her legs and wiggled in his lap.

“Don’t,” Steve groaned, settling his hands on Darcy’s hips.

"Um, little help?" Darcy asked and Steve effortlessly lifted her up and set her on her feet beside the bike. She pressed her thighs together, wrinkling her nose as she pulled the tattered remains of her underwear off her boot. Steve chuckled as she muttered under her breath about the mess and kept his hand on her hip to steady her as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket.

"Sorry," Steve said, waving the white handkerchief between them, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Really?" Darcy snorted, tossing her torn panties into his lap and grabbing the handkerchief. She mopped up the sticky mess trickling down her thighs. She handed back the soiled square of cotton and tugged her skirt down over her hips. The skirt was ruined, torn, and she didn’t want to think about what the dark stain near the hem might be.

"No, I suppose not," Steve grinned and shook his head. He cleaned up with the handkerchief, grimacing as he tucked himself away, and shoved the handkerchief and her torn panties into his pocket.

"Jerk," Darcy muttered under her breath with a grin. She scrubbed her face clean with the sleeve of her jacket, ran fingers over her mussed hair, and wrinkled suit."How do I look?"

"Like you've just been fucked," Steve said, face utterly impassive.


"You're gorgeous, Darce. C'mere," Steve said, grabbing her hand and pulling her into him. His mouth was soft on hers, tongue teasing the seam of her lips, his thumb rubbing the side of her neck, sending little sparks of feeling down her spine. Darcy wrapped her arms around his neck, combed her fingers through his short hair.

"We need to go," Darcy whispered against his mouth.

"I know," Steve said, pressing their foreheads together, breath mingling, his thumb rubbing back and forth behind her ear. God, she was in so much trouble.

Reluctantly, Darcy pulled out of his embrace, and Steve helped her climb up behind him. Holding onto Steve so closely on the ride back into the city made it damn near impossible to compose herself. The heat of Steve’s back, the vibrations of the bike, and every damn bump rattled through her body. At every stoplight Steve covered her cold hands with his warm hand over his stomach, sending shivers down her spine, and heat swirling low in her belly. Any hopes she held of getting calmed down are slashed and fucking burned when they pull into the secure garage at S.H.I.E.L.D. to find Agent Coulson and Agent Romanoff waiting for them.

As soon as Steve pulled into the empty space beside Son of Coul’s beloved Lola, Darcy was off the bike, scrambling to her feet and smoothing her skirt down over her ass. Steve moved at a more deliberate pace, swinging the keys in his hand as he stood.

“Nice to see you finally join us, Captain Rogers, Agent Lewis. I’ll inform medical of your arrival,” Coulson said, eyes narrowed on the darkening bruise on Darcy’s jaw, and the dried blood on her knee. Darcy nodded, fighting the urge to reach up and straighten her hair out as Agent Romanoff narrowed her eyes at Steve.

"You reek of sex," Natasha smirked, one perfect eyebrow arched high, as her gaze slid down to the scrap of black cotton edged in lace sticking out of Steve’s jacket pocket. Oh fuck. Steve’s eyebrows rose up, and Darcy dug her nails into the palm of her hands, willing the blush creeping up her neck away as Natasha’s gaze swung to her."So you're the one that used his back as a scratching post last week.”

"You're not gonna make me disappear are you?" Darcy said trying not to look at Steve or Coulson as her cheeks grew hotter.

“No, the fossil needed a good fuck."

"Gee thanks, Tasha," Steve says dryly crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"You owe me a bottle of vodka, Coulson," Natasha said, tilting her head to the side, and Darcy struggled not to squirm under the Widow’s stare.

“Yes, I do, Agent Romanoff,” Coulson said as he tapped on the tablet in his hand.

“Not the American swill,” Romanoff added and Coulson’s lips twitched into a miniscule smile before he levelled his gaze on Darcy and Steve.

"I need you to start explaining exactly what happened back there that left the bar in ruins, the adjacent building on fire, Agent Cho with a broken arm, Agent Wesson with a concussion and a bullet in his shoulder, a police car crushed, and a fire engine riddled with bullet holes."

"Totally not my fault, Coulson. There were Green Meanies and Stereotypical Bad Guys. The intel on Skinner was missing some key details. Explosion so not my fault. I mean, you sent an Avenger to the party, when does that not end in explosions? Honestly," Darcy said sweetly eyes wide and innocent. Coulson’s mouth twitched and Steve snorted beside her. “Too much?”

“Too much,” Steve and Coulson agreed, and Darcy wrinkled her nose at them.

“You can fill out your reports inside my office after seeing medical. I’ll have additional forms to fill in for fraternisation.”

“There are literally forms for fucking?”

“Language, Agent Lewis. It’s S.H.I.E.L.D., there are forms for filling out forms,” Coulson replied mildly as he turned on his heel leading the way to the bank of elevators.

“Bureaucracy,” Darcy muttered under her breath. “Jesus.”


“Forms,” Darcy said, eyes wide as she curled her hands around the bottom edge of her jacket.

“Forms,” Steve echoed as he looked at her with worried eyes and furrowed brow. He reached out and touched the back of Darcy’s right hand. “You okay with that?”

“I don’t know. Are you?” Darcy said honestly, she couldn’t seem to let go of the hem of her jacket, or raise her eyes above the curve of Steve’s bottom lip.

“Yes, I am,” Steve said firmly, and Darcy jerked her head up to search his eyes. He smiled at her slow and warm, and she closed her eyes and took a steadying breath.

“Okay,” Darcy said, letting go of her jacket. She poked Steve in the stomach. “You aren’t charming your way out of your reports, Captain.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Steve said with a slow smirk that sent a shiver down her spine and heat burning low in her belly.

“Liar,” Darcy said, shaking her head.

“Captain Rogers, Agent Lewis,” Coulson called from the open door of the central elevator.

“Coming,” Darcy called, quickening her pace.

“No, but you will be later,” Steve muttered low enough that only Darcy could hear.

“You’re a bad man, Steve,” Darcy said, lightly smacking the back of her hand on his belly.

“Only in bed,” Steve said as he caught her hand, thumb tracing a small circle on the inside of her wrist. He let her hand fall away as they neared the elevator and a rather tired and exasperated looking Coulson. Steve let her walk into the elevator first, his hand warm on her back above her holster.