Darcy looked up from computer screen, peering over her cubicle. Not many people here at SHIELD knew her by name just yet, and she wasn't important enough to fly on anyone's radar. "Yeah?" she asked, searching for the owner of the voice.
It came from Agent Garner. "Coulson wants to see you. In his office, as soon as you're done." Closing the files on her computer, she headed over toward the elevator, and up two floors to where the supervisors worked.
She'd just finished her training program and had a shiny ID card and Level Three clearance, but still each day she felt like a brand new employee. This hallway, for instance, she'd walked it maybe twice since she arrived, and most of the faces were strangers to her.
But not Phil's. "You wanted to see me, Bossman?" she asked with a little smile, leaning on his door.
"I did," he answered, pointing at the chair in front of him. "Close the door, too." He'd been back five months, and it pleased Darcy knowing that one of the first things he did was find her and and offer her a chance to work with him. He watched her a moment, not speaking and Darcy wondered if something was wrong. "How long have you been with us, Agent Lewis?" he finally asked as she sat down.
"It will be four months on the 8th, sir." He nodded, looking down at a folder and again she was struck with his demeanor. Too quiet. "Is everything okay, Agent Coulson?"
Another long moment before he answered. "Since I've returned," he began softly, "I've noticed some changes, with me," he said, pointing at himself. "My hairline for one, according to Barton. But another thing that I've noticed is that I'm a little more worried about my agents than I used to be. Maybe it was this scare, maybe I'm just getting older and you guys keep getting younger and younger. I've got comic books that are older than you, Darcy." Tapping his fingers on the folder, he shook his head. "It's harder than it used to be, me asking you to put yourself in danger."
"It's all part of the job," she replied, trying to look as grown-up and imposing as she could, yet giving him a little smile. "What's that?" she asked, looking at the folder.
"This is next on my list. Charles Neiman." Coulson tapped the folder with his fingers, frowning. "At first we thought he was an agent for a foreign government. But now we're not so sure. Could be that he's working with a terrorist organization. It's gotten murky, but no less dangerous. At any rate, this morning we were tipped off he's closing a deal to deliver the identities of several undercover CIA operatives to one of our enemies."
Darcy frowned, confused. Thus far, her work had mainly revolved around setting up voice intercept programs within the Communication department. "I'm not sure I understand."
"Right now, we don't have any solid leads on him, other than his computer trails. We've got two solid hits, one to his banking, which is all done overseas. The other… is a little more unusual." Coulson's face flushed pink, a look Darcy had never seen. "Agent Lewis, how familiar are you with BDSM?"
Coulson gave her the case file to look over that night. She appreciated that it wasn't her age that bothered him about this, it was her inexperience. "In fact, your age is why I picked you for this. Couldn't ask for a better operative in this situation. I just wish you had a little more training with us first, some easier undercover to get you started."
The idea had merit. Get to the mark though his girlfriend, who lived here in NYC. It was something from The Sopranos, except the mark and his girlfriend were heavy into D/s stuff, and this girl wasn't as shy about communicating with her online followers. The plan seemed simple enough. Get to know the girlfriend via the social media site, and see if she would give up some info on the target's whereabouts, long enough for SHIELD to get a physical trace on him. Darcy could see that Phil was bothered by the amount of sexual content involved with this. "Don't worry, Bossman. I'm a big girl who grew up in the information age, not much on the net I haven't seen."
With any luck, though, she wouldn't even need to meet up face to face with the target. Glancing over the scant information SHIELD had, she found some computer records, dates and screenshots taken from two Tumblr pages. The target, Neiman - well, if this was him, he wasn't ashamed of showing what turned him on. Neither did the girlfriend, only identified as Little Lisa.
Darcy had to admit to herself - she was intrigued.
That evening after a nutritious dinner of leftover pizza, she popped open the special laptop SHIELD provided, with the wandering IP address, and began her research.
Darcy explored their tumblr pages, getting a feel for each of them. His blog was filled with women on their knees, lots of blowjobs, and the occasional expensive suit. But Lisa's seemed a little more varied, interweaving stories about her everyday life as a submissive with porn gifs, and occasionally she'd answer questions that people asked. Darcy liked that.
She spent the next hour creating her own blog, very simple at first. But the hardest part, strangely - she needed a name.
Most of the journals she saw had some derivation of 'little' or 'kitten' in them. Darcy's cat allergy had never made kittens all that appealing to her. As a child, her mother had kept songbirds, so she finally settled on 'Little Sparrow'.
She made the tumblr that night, but didn't post anything, just followed a few blogs but after a while, looking at all the nudity and sex stopped interesting her at all, the images blurred into each other, mouths, asses, cum shots.
It wasn't until the next evening when she settled on the sofa and began going through her tumblr dashboard that she saw an image that made her stop and really stare hard at the screen.
The man was fully clothed, suit and tie with a naked woman laying across his lap, a ribbon tied around her eyes. The whole image was in black and white except the pink of the ribbon, and the darker pink welts on her ass. Swallowing, Darcy felt her own face flush at the idea of someone spanking her hard like that.
A familiar face stuck out in her head, blond hair and green eyes, and completely inappropriate. "You're pouring through pages and pages of bondage porn and a stupid crush on a co-worker is what troubles you, Lewis?" she asked herself. But it wasn't that wrong, was it, thinking about him like that? Wasn't as if he'd ever know about this. Last she heard, Barton and Romanoff's latest mission had them in South America indefinitely.
But in her imagination, it was Clint's voice she heard, Clint's hands on her body. Something about that smartass mouth of his appealed to her in a way that none of the other younger guys her age did. And his hands, fuck, she loved looking at him working with his hands. There was nothing superhero about him, just one hundred percent corn-fed American male who got shit done the old-fashioned way.
Darcy's hand dropped between her legs. Finding her clit, she began rubbing herself as she stared at another image, a man flipping his woman over the side of her bed, lifting her skirt and roughly impaling himself inside her as she grabbed at the sheets. Over and over it played, repeating and she knew Clint would be like that, taking what he wanted from her, satisfying his own needs first, fuck...
It took a moment to catch her breath. Her cheeks flushed, though she had no real reason to be embarrassed other than her choice of fantasy partner and maybe the way she wanted him to just use her.
Reaching for her mouse, she clicked the reblog button.
There were others, some pictures and images, fairly tame. Occasionally she stumbled across a blog or two that had a more dominating approach to dealing with women, using more degrading language. After a couple hours Darcy had a nice selection of blogs on her dash - while not exactly something she'd show her grandmother, on the whole it felt 'pretty', which suited her.
Twenty-two, always curious,
Loves her Daddy.
Misses his touch.
She checked her tumblr the next morning and smiled. She had two followers.
After she got to work, Darcy sent Coulson a message, letting him know a little about what she'd researched, and that she'd created the blog. Apart of her felt like she needed as much transparency as possible with this, seeing as it seemed a bit... well, unseemly.
Coulson's reply made her feel better. I have faith in you, Darcy. Whatever you need to do to get in touch with this person. I don't need to see all of it, unless you've got something that is concerning you.
Oh, what was there to be concerned about, other than she was getting paid to watch porn? "Not exactly what I learned in college," she shook her head that evening over a glass of wine. Crisp and cold, the pinot grigio had been an impulse buy at the store - and maybe a reminder that she was a grown woman, with a job and an apartment and a mission.
Before she went to bed, she followed Little Lisa's blog, leaving a message in her Ask box.
Sounds like you and your Daddy have a special relationship. I enjoy reading about your travels. My Daddy travels a lot without me, so I miss him when he's gone. What do you do to occupy the time when he's not there?
The next morning there was a reply.
HI THERE! It's so hard when he's gone, but I know that his work is important, and it makes the time we have together all the dearer. Most of the time he leaves me tasks, or lists of things to do when he's not around. Some are easy like buying new undies and sending him pictures, and other are harder, like no orgasms when he's gone. But it keeps us in each other's hearts, which is the point.
Along with the message was the notification that 'little_lisa is following you now'. Sweet.
Over the next two weeks, Darcy and Lisa formed an unlikely sort of friendship, reblogging each other's photosets and sending each other messages. Soon they exchanged email addresses, and when Lisa discovered that 'Daphne' lived in New York, she invited her out for coffee and shopping.
Darcy wasn't sure what she'd expected from meeting Lisa- but it wasn't this. It all seemed so normal. They met at a Starbucks on the lower East Side, two young women who could have been anywhere, nothing outward that screamed 'kinky'.
If anything, Lisa seemed a little understated, her long hair pulled into a messy bun, wearing cute little tortoiseshell glasses and a oversized grandpa sweater. She seemed just as forthright and sincere in person as she had on the internet, as she described her life to Darcy. In Lisa's adult life, she worked in the Human Resources department of a firm on Wall Street. At home, in her personal life, she embraced the child inside her, and had found a partner who accepted and nurtured that need.
In a way, Darcy felt bad that she was going to ruin this for her. "So," Lisa asked in her quiet voice, drinking her iced chai, "enough about me. Tell me about your guy. What's he like?"
Darcy sat back in her chair, looking off in the distance as she described the imaginary man in her head. "His name is Alex. He's a little older. Not too much, thirteen or fourteen years, I think. He's got the best eyes," Darcy added, mentally chastising herself for using Clint as her mental model, but she needed a concrete face to put with this man, and his was as good as any, right? "But it's his hands that won me over." Glancing over at Lisa, she asked, "And you? What's your guy like, Daphne?"
"He's wonderful," Lisa told her. "When I realized who I was and what I wanted, I went looking online for someone. Groups and chatrooms," she shook her head, shrugging. "Took a couple tries to get it right, but once he contacted me, and we met, I knew he'd be the one." A dreamy sort of expression slipped on Lisa's face, and Darcy could see a glimpse of that child inside. "He fits me so well. I couldn't have asked for someone more suited to give me what I need."
"What is it that you need?" Darcy asked, curious as she sipped her cappuccino.
"Structure. Rules. Consequences," she added, a little smile on her face. "Someone who will love me unconditionally, even when I don't deserve it. Someone who will let me be the child I am inside." Sounded like she was happy, and Darcy wondered if she had any idea what kind of double life her boyfriend really led. Then Lisa asked, "When did it happen for you guys? How did you find him?"
Darcy had a practiced backstory for this question, but Clint's face stick in her head again, and she found herself changing it on the fly. "I think... it wasn't until I knew him, heard his voice that I realized what I wanted from him, and for myself. To belong to him."
Lisa seemed to understand. "That's romantic," Lisa told her. "I like that. With me and Charles, we have an emotional bond as well. But I know it's not like that with everyone."
"I guess it's whatever floats your boat, right?" she said, surprising herself how much she meant it. "If he gives you what you need, then good for you."
Lisa smiled back at her. "I like you, Daphne." Then she stood, picking up her drink. "I know some places that have some clothes that might suit us. Oh, and there's a toy store, Charles left me some money to get a new squishy because I've been good." Lisa's whole face lit up talking about this. "Feel like spending some of Daddy's money with me?"
Darcy laughed, curious about what kind of stores Lisa was talking about. "Lead on," she told her, and they headed out the door, arm in arm.
Hey Daph, me and some other friends are having a slumber party on Friday! Nail painting, coloring, watching cartoons and talking about our Daddies. It will give the guys someone else to talk to, showing off their beautiful baby girls. I'd love for you to come! Bring your special stuffed animal, your blankie and bring your Daddy Alex.
Text conversation between Agent Lewis and Agent Coulson
Got some good news and some bad news.
Spill - I could use the good news.
I got invited to a slumber party.
Congratulations, Lewis. Did you need permission or someone to drop you off?
I might, actually. It's connected to the case.
Everyone else going is taking their Daddies with them.
I'll be back in the office later this afternoon. Swing by on your way out.
Darcy almost forgot about her meeting with Coulson. She grabbed her purse and headed toward the elevator with Agent Whitfield, chatting about some movie they both saw over the weekend. Only when one of the elevators opened and she spotted Clint Barton inside did she remember that she needed to talk to Phil. "I'll call you later," she told Lanie, stepping onto Clint's elevator, going up. She nodded at Clint, a scowl on his face. "Hey, stranger. When did you get back?"
"This morning," he answered, leaning against the side. "Fucking mission. Things went sideways and we got pulled early." The doors slid open, and they both stepped off. "How're you holding up?" he asked, his voice friendlier than his expression. "Is SHIELD everything you expected?"
Laughing, she nodded. "And then some. Got some interesting cases right now-" It wasn't until Darcy reached Phil's office that she realized that had been Clint's destination as well. "Age before beauty," she gestured at the door, grinning as he quirked a smile at her and walked inside, holding the door for her.
Coulson didn't seem surprised to see the both of them. "Good, you're both here. Have a seat." Darcy's eyebrow arched. "Agent Barton," he began, "Agent Lewis here has been spearheading the intelligence gathering in a case we're working on. She... may require a male counterpart for a meeting, and since you're current mission has been mothballed-"
"Temporarily mothballed-" Clint interrupted him, irritated.
Coulson ignored that look. "Temporarily, yes. Anyway, I thought that you might be able to assist her."
Darcy's heart got caught up in her throat. This wasn't really happening. "Agent Coulson, are you sure?"
"Not entirely, " Coulson admitted, folding his hands. "But I believe in being prepared, and Barton is the best. If you need him, he'll be there, and there's not much he isn't familiar with." Turning to Clint, Coulson said, "Listen to what's going on, and if you're not comfortable, send me a message, and I'll get someone else."
Darcy's stomach lurched again. As embarrassed as she was about Clint finding out about all of this, the idea of sharing it with someone else, of having to be with someone else like that - no. As they walked back down toward the elevator, she said, "I can get you up to speed tonight, if you want to come over to my place."
Clint looked intrigued, and less like that caged tiger he'd been earlier. "Okay. I'll pick up some food, if you want, and meet you there." After she gave him the address of her building in Brooklyn, the nerves returned.
But this was work, and Darcy was a professional - or at least needed to act like one. "See you then."
Clint arrived at six-thirty, right on time, with a bag of Chinese food and his laptop. Darcy had spent the past hour picking up her little one-bedroom apartment, trying to tell herself that this was just work, and that despite what she pretended on the internet, she was a grown-up here.
"Daddies..." he began, as he settled on her sofa, scrolling through her blog. "So Agent Lewis, tell me what that's all about."
She explained it as best as she could. "It's all in good fun, you know? I don't really want to go fuck my father. It's just... sometimes, having someone older help you out is nice, you know? It's hard, having to pretend to be smart and independent and badass all the time."
"You were born badass, Lewis," Clint murmured, smirking, but there was something like admiration in his eyes. He wasn't mocking. "It's like playing dress-up."
"Yeah," she said, "sort of. With an ageplay component. And then some sex."
She could read each question on his face, the confusion in his eyes. "Explain."
"For these purposes, I'm a little. In a nutshell, I enjoy acting and being treated like someone younger, someone who needs a strong hand to guide her decisions."
"Not entirely progressive."
"It's not about politics," Darcy told him tersely. She needed him to understand this. "It's about kink, what turns you on. This turns some people on, and they like it. Do you have a problem with it?" she asked, a little defensively.
The look Clint gave her unsettled her. "I don't have a problem with it," he told her, his voice low. "And even if I did, it doesn't matter. This is about the mission. So tell me who I am, and what I need to do to make this work for you."
A long moment passed before either of them spoke. "It's probably easier to just show you." Darcy stood, turning the laptop toward him fully, and pulled up a few internet sites that explained the lifestyle better. "I'll get dinner set up, and you look at that."
Twenty minutes later, she set a plate and a beer next to him. "So, what do you think?"
"I feel like a complete newb here," he said, his chin in his hands. "And girls like this."
Darcy picked up a small sofa pillow, tossing at his shoulder. "Yes, you ass. Girls like porn."
"I mean, I know this. I know this, I'm not this obtuse caveman. But-" he pointed at the screen, "I don't know, I didn't expect all of this to be so..."
Clint laughed. "Yeah, maybe that's it. I can see the appeal, especially the romantic, lovey-dovey stuff. I mean, like that," he pointed at a couple fucking slow, the look of pleasure on their faces almost as erotic as their naked bodies.
"Yeah," Darcy said, sipping on her drink. After a while, the embarrassment level sort of dissipated, and then something would pop on the screen, like that, and her body reacted. "There's some freaky stuff on there, too."
"I saw that." He shifted a little, and Darcy couldn't help but glance down, to see if he had any physical reactions - and yep, there it was. "So, what do you need from me? Do I need one of these?" he asked, pointing at the computer screen.
"Some of the Daddies have them." Darcy looked at a few of them sometimes, though she preferred to read their messages and thoughts on domination and submission rather than the pictures they posted - though those were interesting too. "You don't have to have one, though. I've been invited to a slumber party with some of these people."
"Congratulations," Clint smirked. "Will there be pillow fights?"
"You laugh, but that's sort of the point. It's a party of women who want to be little girls, and the men who like watching that."
"The guys are going?"
"Yes - including him," she pointed at the target's blog. "I don't think we're supposed to do anything other than make contact, make sure that it's him, but-"
"Yeah," Clint nodded at the screen again. "I'll go with you."
"You don't have to, if you don't want. Phil was serious, he wouldn't make you go if it made you uncomfortable."
"First, yes he would, if he wanted me to go. Work is work, and he wouldn't pull me just 'cause something embarrassed me. How is this worse than being ordered to shoot someone?”
He had a point. "But this is your body, and-" Clint raised an eyebrow, and she realized that he and Natasha, and probably others, were asked to use their bodies on a regular basis to gain information.
Clint glanced back at her page. "I like the bird motif," he told her, and it took her a minute to get what he meant, and why he was grinning.
In retrospect, it seemed deliberate, but it hadn't been. "Oh," she said, her face reddening a moment as she realized how close it was to his own thing. "Sparrows learn their song from others, older birds. There's actually a specific period of time in their lives that they are best able to learn, and they remember those songs for their whole lives." Darcy had forgotten that bit of information - or maybe she hadn't, it did seem to make the whole bird thing fit better.
Clint looked back at her, a strange look in his eyes. "I hadn't known that." Turning back to the screen, he exhaled. "So, how old are you in this thing?"
"I don't know," she told him, genuinely not sure. "Some people play pretty young. I'm not feeling that, though... I think given our natural age difference, the best route is to play it a little underage - sixteen, maybe. The sassy teenager."
"Ah, jailbait. I can dig it," Clint murmured, clicking through another page, two woman taking turns sucking on a man's erect dick. "Rough job, but someone's got to do it."
Just before midnight, Darcy heard her phone beep. A text message from Clint, with a link to a blog. Cute, and she appreciated the subtle nod to her own sparrow theme.
The gifs that he'd reblogged... well, Clint's tastes ran a little rougher than her own, but Darcy reminded herself - this was supposed to be someone dominating. She looked at a few more images, then put the phone down and covered her head with her pillow, trying not to imagine recreating some of the scenes with Clint.
One sticking point that Clint pointed out as a problem was the fact that they hadn't worked together before. "If we're supposed to be close, intimate... we need to spend some time working through that," he said after firearms practice, waiting for her the next morning outside the shooting range. He didn't explain exactly what that would entail, but he did invite her to have dinner with him that night so they could talk about the mission, being in public and how they would have to act around each other. "I just... we need to be able to touch each other without it being strange. Particularly because we're a couple, an intimate couple around other couples. This has to be natural, something that we just fall into without question."
"No, I agree," Darcy told him as they walked back from the training range. "I think the fact that this is new for us, relatively speaking, that can help a little. According to my backstory, it's been just a few months we've been together, so..." He was watching her face as she spoke, and a shiver ran down her spine. "I'll see you tonight then."
Standing in front of her closet that afternoon, she debated what to wear. It wasn't about impressing Clint, or seducing him, but falling into a roll, playing the part of his submissive young lover. If this were real, his desires would matter to her, so she chose an outfit that she thought would please him.
The soft black sweater might not be as young or child-like as it should have been, but the bra and panty set were pink and flirty, a matching set she usually saved for special occasions. A short floral skirt and some cute sandals completed the outfit.
For shits and grins, she put her hair into two ponytails, hanging down her shoulders.
Clint didn't say anything about her clothes when she arrived at his apartment in Bed-Stuy, a nicer building than she had imaged. But he did spend a moment looking at her as he led her into the living room, taking her coat and laying it carefully over the back of a chair. "I've got some spaghetti on the stove, for when we're done."
"Okay," Darcy replied, sitting down on the sofa, watching Clint settle on the other side. "Before we start, I just wanted to thank you again. This is probably not what you usually have to do...."
"All in all, it's better than crouching in the rain for hours in Belarus." The grin on his face did little to calm her nerves, though, and from the look on his face, he could tell. "I'm good with this, really. And I get to spend some time with you, which is nice, once we get over our initial shyness."
Darcy arched a brow. "I'm not shy," she told him.
"Oh yeah?" Clint asked, his back straightening. The smirk that usually hung on his face disappeared, replaced by this serious mein. "Isn't that what draws me to you? Your submissive nature? The way you hang on my every word?" It sounded like he'd done some reading on the subject. "Darcy, I want you to come sit on my lap."
That was fast. "...okay," she began slowly. "Let me just-"
"Nope." Clint immediately fell out of character, back to himself. "This is exactly what I mean. You need to get used to doing what I say, when I say it. I'm not trying to be an jerk, Darcy, this is about being an undercover couple." He patted his lap. "Now get your ass over here."
Her heart beat fast as she approached him. One hand rested on his shoulder, steadying herself as she sat down carefully. His arms wrapped around her loosely, and after a moment she found a place that wasn't entirely comfortable, but she wouldn't fall. "Is this okay?"
"Yeah," he told her, stroking her arm gently with one hand. "Look at me."
She did, staring right into his eyes. Fantastic eyes, and even though Clint wasn't smiling, his eyes were warm and friendly. "This is weird."
Clint nodded. Up close, she could see all the tiny lines on his face, faint stubble along his jawline. "That's why we're here. We gotta be in a place where it's not weird." His hand slid onto her side. "Ticklish?"
"Sometimes," she admitted but it felt good. One of her hands settled on the back of his head, and she saw him smile at that touch.
Clint's finger touched her nose, then moved down feather soft across her lips. "This okay?"
"Yeah," she nodded, eyes widening as she saw him lean in closer, brushing his lips against her mouth. She blinked her eyes closed involuntarily, holding her breath until he pulled back and she could feel his arousal under her skirts. "...Clint."
"It's good," he told her, touching her face. "Darcy, you're a beautiful girl. Of course I'm gonna get turned on. But this is the job, right?" he said, fingers grazing the side of her breast.
"The mission," she agreed, though she hadn't quite caught her breath. Feeling braver, she pressed her forehead against his, her arms wrapped around his shoulders. "All about catching the bad guy."
"Yeah." Clint kissed her again, soft and gentle. "Your name is Daphne. I'm Alex."
"Yes," she breathed out softly.
Another kiss, this one deeper, just the tip of his tongue parting her lips, touching hers. "How long have we known each other?"
"Since March," Darcy told him, relaxing by inches. "You worked in the same real estate office as my father." Closing her eyes again, she rested her head against his, snuggling closer. "You called me and invited me to lunch. I'd never had someone older interested in me like that, and it made me feel good," she repeated the story that they'd agreed on. "The first time we had sex, you took charge, took control and showed me new things. And I liked it."
Clint took a deep breath. "And now?" he asked, his voice low.
"Now you're my Daddy, and I'm your baby girl." Her voice changed, soft and kittenish and Clint's lips curled up, satisfied, and she kissed him, because she could.
He liked that. "You're my Little Sparrow, that's what you are. Now tell me, what do I do for you?"
"You help me," she told him, touching his cheek. "You explain things to me, so they make sense, so I don't feel so lost. I haven't been in town that long." Her eyes dropped to his mouth, full lips before she looked up again. "I depend on you more than you know."
For a long moment their eyes locked together. "And what do you do for me?" he eventually asked, his thumb making small circles against her breast.
Again Darcy answered, "You like being good to me, giving me things. You like control," Darcy began slowly. "Sometimes you can't have that at your job, not at the level you'd like. Some bad shit's happened to you-" Clint looked up at that, but Darcy kept going, choosing her words carefully, surprised by how close to the truth it really was. "And I make you smile." Covering Clint's hand on her breast with her own, she squeezed it, watching his face remain impassive, but his own chest rising and falling. "You like my body. You like sex with me."
He was good. It impressed Darcy how calm he seemed through all this, the look on his face tender and warm rather than aroused. Her own insides were a jumble of nerves and need and she wanted badly to just pull down his pants and grind against him. "You're gonna be fine at this," he told her, one last touch to her cheek before he carefully moved her off the sofa. "Just give me a minute here, okay?" he said, a little chuckle as he stood and headed toward the window.
Darcy walked into the kitchen and looked around. She spotted the spaghetti warming in the oven, so she pulled it out, along with some plates and utensils.
"Here let me help," Clint started toward her, but she stopped him.
"No, go sit down," she told him. "That's what I'm supposed to do for you, right? Take care of you when you're around?" she teased, rewarded with a chuckle.
"Guess so," he admitted. "So, my guy is gone a lot," Clint said, as he sat down at the small table in his kitchen, watching Darcy as she spooned the food onto their plates and served them both. "Does he ever take you with him?"
Darcy shook her head, sitting across from him. "I'm a poor student," she said sadly. "Can't leave town too much." Pausing, she added, "And your work partner, maybe she doesn't know about me."
"Oh, I think my work partner would know about everything," Clint replied, smirking.
"Maybe," Darcy said, taking another bite. "But it means you can't take me with you. Busy all the time with your meetings and such."
"Makes our reunions all the better. And we blog our little fantasies to each other."
"Yeah." Clint's own blog had been revealing. Clint, or at least his character, liked more of the rough stuff, filled his blog with images of women being tied up or handcuffed, some riding crops, and more than a couple face come shots. "I saw yours."
Clint's fork paused on the way to his mouth, then he finished the bite. "It's amazing what's on the web. Before you know it, like, an hour's gone by, and-"
"...and you're just reblogging all the pictures, yeah," she finished. "So, you really like all that stuff on your blog?" she asked, twirling the last bits of spaghetti on her fork.
Clint didn't say anything, just gave her one of those enigmatic looks that were beginning to frustrate her. "I've got some dessert, if you still have room."
She respected that answer, or lack of an answer. If he did, that was his business. If it was just for the job, then - that was good too. "Not right now," she told him, finishing her drink. "We going back to the sofa?" she asked nervously, heart beating like a drum in her chest.
He stood, taking their plates and dropping them in his sink. "I think so." Reaching for her hand, he tugged her toward the living room again. "This time, we need to talk about what submission looks like."
"Everything still on schedule for this weekend?"
Darcy snapped out of the daze she'd fallen into, nearly dropping her cafeteria tray when she realized Coulson was standing behind her. "Looking good, sir. I've got Bailey and O'Hara standing by if Big Daddy shows up." Those two would plant the surveillance device on Neiman's automobile, and Darcy didn't need to worry about anything other than being there, signalling if the target showed - and not getting caught.
"I understand Barton's out of town right now." The irritated look on his face told Darcy that his trip wasn't of his making, but Director Fury's. "He'll be back by Saturday?"
"I'm sure he will." She hadn't spoken to him directly, but Clint wouldn't miss this unless something dire came up, she knew that. He hadn't been able to contact her directly for some reason, but he'd also reblogged an image two people making love, and added below it 'Can't wait to see you this weekend'.
Seeing that, and the memory of that night they'd rehearsed together made her flush pink. After dinner they'd talked some more, then practiced some submissive poses that Darcy might need to demonstrate that weekend. Standing, kneeling, how she would need to lay across his lap if he needed to punish her publicly. "Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Clint added at the end, giving her a light swat. "There's a lot of stuff on the internet on these postures, you might want to read up on some, just to get the idea of the mindset behind it all. It has to look natural, one step out of turn and it could really fuck things up, okay?" Clint told her when they were done.
Darcy's heart raced the entire time, and she knew her face was flushed pink. "I will."
"One more thing. When you want my attention, and I'm talking with other adults, I want you to place your hand on my arm. That way, I know you're there, and when I'm done, I will address you. Do you understand?"
She nodded, but when he didn't respond, she realized he needed an answer. "Yes, Clint." She didn't drop her eyes to the ground to be submissive, but because she felt embarrassed how easily this seemed to come to her.
Clint had been pleased, though, with how fast she picked up on what to do, and how she'd come to enjoy that hand on the back of her neck as she knelt beside him, listening to him tell her she was his pretty little girl.
She'd ended the evening straddling his lap, just doing what he told her to do, with her eyes, with her hands, with her mouth. Obedience, it sounded so dirty when she thought of it like that, and inside her there was a small voice that said this wasn't very liberated, the way she wanted to sit next to him all night and do whatever he told her to do.
They hadn't done any more than kiss, but it still felt like the most sexual experience she'd ever had.
Not that Coulson needed to know any of this. Hell, he'd probably pull her off this case if he knew. Smiling at Agent Coulson, she told him, "You'll have my report, whatever happens, by Monday morning."
She only worked at headquarters for half a day Friday, since she'd be 'on duty' this weekend. Since she had time time off, Darcy decided to spend it pampering herself. Mani/pedi, a sparkly pink on her nails and toes, followed by some waxing to make herself smooth all over. That night she reblogged images, having fun going back and forth with Clint, the two of them 'talking' in character. Even if it wasn't real, Darcy felt an emotional sort of satisfaction when she saw him blogging images and talking about her.
Not her, but her character. But in a way, it was her. Right?
Saturday came. Darcy tried not to be nervous but nothing helped. After a couple hours of marathoning America's Next Top Models reruns, she turned the television off, and went to take a bath. She'd been sitting in the hot water for almost half an hour when her phone rang.
She saw Clint's name on the screen and felt herself get nervous all over again. "You ready for tonight?" she heard him ask, and she sighed, thinking about it.
"I am," she told him. "I think at this point, I want to get in there and get it over with, just to see what it's like. Being around them." And that was the crux of her problem, she realized. She was more nervous about the people than the mission itself.
Clint seemed to catch that. "Nothing you do tonight is going to be wrong, Darce. There's no script, no rules other than the ones we make for ourselves." He laughed softly. "Just don't call me Clint."
"Okay," she told him, hanging up when they finished talking. He'd be coming by to pick her up at six, so she had a few hours left to dress-up. In the end she selected a pink cotton top, embellished with little gems and a plaid mini-skirt. The outfit itself looked pretty juniors department, but Darcy knew that nothing about her boobs and ass would ever let her look like a little kid.
She'd just finished her hair, a better version of those ponytails from the other night when Clint knocked at the door. He didn't say anything about the outfit, which she took to mean he liked it, and soon they were heading up Belt Pkwy toward the house in New Hyde Park where the party was being held. "This place belong to him?" Clint asked, as they wove through traffic.
"I don't think so," Darcy told him, checking her makeup in the mirror. "Lisa was pretty tight-lipped about who owned it, she might not even know, and the title's held by a third-party consortium, so it could be. I've got some inquiries out, checking on the deed records." It was a comfortable house, she decided as they walked up toward the front door, holding hands. Clint looked appropriately business casual, in his button down shirt and chinos.
Lisa greeted them, looking much different from the last time they met. Tonight she wore a Spongebob shirt and short-shorts, and hugged Darcy tight as they entered the house. "I'm so glad you came." Darcy saw Clint head upstairs, to where the other men had gathered in some loft. She followed Lisa to the living area, where she was introduced to three other girls, all dressed to resemble younger girls. Before she knew it, she had some crayons in her hand, working on a My Little Pony coloring page, and doing a damn good job, if she said so herself.
When she looked up, she could see all the men sitting in a half-circle, talking and looking down at the girls in the living room. One of the men lit a cigar, and the smell wafted down. "That's stinky," Rachel murmured, looking around as if she knew it was the wrong thing to say. All the girls went quiet, then Darcy started to giggle, and the others all did as well.
"Stinky cigars," Joan agreed, her voice much younger than the others. Darcy suspected she played a very young girl, the way she popped a pacifier into her mouth every few minutes.
An hour or so went by, and occasionally one of the men would come downstairs to see the girls, talk to his little girl. She could see the affection between the couples, unconventional as it seemed, and for a while she wondered if Clint were going to come down at all and see what she'd colored, tell her she looked pretty.
"Lisa!" Her head popped up, eyes wide and all the girls seemed to recognize that tone, one that meant 'now'. Standing up, Lisa hurried as fast as she could upstairs to where Charles (she presumed) had called her.
Just then she felt someone behind her, touching her hair. Clint had a reserved look on his face, hard to read. "I want you to come with me."
"Yes sir," she murmured, feeling the eyes of the other girls (and men as well) as she stood. Smoothing her skirt, she followed Clint out into the backyard, remembering to keep her hands behind her as they walked, stopping near the inground pool.
"You're doing fantastic," he told her, looking out into the street as if something held his attention there. But she could see one of his hands fiddling in his pocket. "Bailey and O'Hara are out there. We're just about ready to roll." Turning toward her, his face seemed different from his voice, not exactly angry, but... demanding.
Movement in the windows upstairs caught her eyes. "They're watching us," she said, all of this clicking.
"Yes." Clint stepped toward her, his hand lifting her chin. Before she knew it he leaned close and kissed her, his hand resting on her shoulder, and she felt him pushing her down. For a moment she didn't know what he wanted, then it hit her.
Kneeling down, the paving stones scratched at her bare knees, but that wasn't important. "He was getting ready to leave early, so we need to give him something to watch, keep him occupied while the guys put the tracking device on his car." His hands pulled at her pony tails, tugging them until her hair was free and falling over her shoulders, his fingers threading through it as he looked down at her.
Okay. Time to work. Darcy's hands slid up Clint's legs, coming to rest on the back of his thighs, and she nuzzled at his crotch, unable to keep the soft noise from escaping.
"Just like that, baby," he told her, "they're still watching." But she knew they wouldn't stay watching for long, not unless they really had a show. Both of her hands slid around the front, and her fingers began unfastening his pants. "Darcy, you don't have to-"
"Shhh," she whispered, feeling bad for quieting him, but he was wrong. They did need to do this. Tugging at his fly, she unzipped it and pulled out his thick cock, already red and hard as it jutted out in front of her face and without thinking she took the head into her mouth. The fingers in her hair tightened and she closed her eyes as she held onto the base of his shaft and took more and more of him in, inch by inch until her nose brushed his coarse hair and she couldn't take anymore.
Clint breathed loud, inhaling and exhaling with each bob of her head. Her lips stretched wider as she moved, sucking harder. Darcy felt his hips moving, and she didn't want to fall, holding onto him and using her hands to brace herself. "So fucking pretty right now, you know that?" he told her, his voice a near growl. "Perfect, my perfect little girl." And then it changed, his hands holding her head steady as his hips snapped faster. "Look at me."
Darcy's hands reached for Clint, eyes locked onto his and holding on for dear life as he fucked her mouth, harder and faster. None of her previous lovers had ever been quite like this, but still she could tell from the way his breathing became short and ragged that it wasn't going to last much longer. "Ahh-" she made a strangled groaning noise when he pulled her hair hard, but he wasn't letting her move, keeping her face attached to his cock until-
He came inside her mouth, and she caught most of it, using her tongue to lap up any last bits of come that she missed. Both of them were panting, Darcy feeling that shiver down her spine again as she carefully tucked Clint into his pants, feeling him stroking the back of her neck with his hands. Debauched, that was the word that came to mind right now, and she knew she must look a mess, hair tossled and mouth red and bruised.
She heard a series of quiet beeps come from his pants pocket. "They've placed the device," Clint told her, his voice low and rough. "He can go now." Clint helped Darcy up, smoothing out her clothes and giving her a soft and tender kiss. Darcy leaned into it, wishing that this wasn't all just for show.
Despite it being called a slumber party, no one really intended on spending the night. After a few hours the couples left, Darcy and Clint leaving last. They drove back to Darcy's apartment in silence, but that didn't bother Darcy, especially when he rested his hand on her knee. Too many strange thoughts in her head about what had happened, and why it happened, and how much she wanted it to happen again.
Her hand slipped on top of his, and she stared out the window as the city lights got brighter as they drove back toward Brooklyn.
Coulson had his own ring tone. One of the agents created a soundbite from 'Staying Alive' by the Bee Gees, and passed it around to anyone that wanted it. She'd expected to hear the familiar tune at some point today, but not quite this early, pulling her out of her dreams. "Hey Bossman," she answered sleepily.
If he was aware that he woke her up (and face it, he was. He knew everything.) he didn't mention it. "I wanted to bring you up to speed on the case, Lewis. You got a moment?"
"Yes sir," she replied, sitting up in bed. Seven-forty. Not too early, she supposed, in the great SHIELD scheme of things. "Go ahead, please."
"Two of our agents made contact with Neiman this morning."
That woke her up. "He's been arrested?"
"...Not quite," Coulson told her. "Right now, he's being monitored. Neiman admitted to some rather large deals, several of them still pending, and we feel that it's in our best interest to keep him out and about for the moment so we can land a bigger fish."
Darcy stopped at that, suddenly worried. "Is that-" she started, but then stopped, not wanting to question her superior.
But Coulson seemed to know understand her concern. "There is no way to tie what happened to him this morning with you or Agent Barton. As far as he's concerned, we found him through a cell phone trace. My advice to you is to continue your friendship with his girlfriend, keep up your blogging, and in a couple months time, you can delete it and cease contact."
"Cease contact," Darcy repeated, still a little wary.
"I'm sure you'll think of something." Coulson didn't appear to be worried. "I'll be briefing Agent Barton with the same information."
Right at that moment, she heard the toilet flush, footsteps down her hallway. "I'll be seeing him later," Darcy told him, swinging her legs off the bed. "I can tell him if you want."
"Even better. I'll expect a full report by Wednesday. And don't come in on Monday, you've earned the day off. Tell Barton that goes for him as well." After she ended the call, Darcy darted into her bathroom. She brushed her teeth and glanced at herself in the mirror, groaned quietly at the mess looking back at her, and padded out into the living room. "Hey," she told the figure flopped across her sofa.
"Hey," Clint answered, reaching for his t-shirt, apparently discarded sometime after she'd gone to bed. "Was that Phil?"
Darcy nodded, flipping on her coffee pot. "They got him," she told Clint, then filled in the rest of the conversation as she waited for the coffee to brew. "Looks like you didn't have to stay last night."
"Wasn't a problem, Darce," he told her, walking toward the kitchen. "Better safe than sorry, you know? I just wanted to make sure you were okay." He took the steaming mug she offered him, murmuring his thanks. "You alright?" he asked, arching an eyebrow as he took a sip, and she knew he meant more than just how she slept.
She took her own sip, blowing on the top of the liquid as she tried to find the right words. "Just feels funny thinking that it's over, you know?"
Clint sat on a barstool, nodding. "The missions, they're all like that. You get used to it. But the ones that get under your skin," he paused, "...sometimes those take longer."
"I guess." Another moment of silence. "We're supposed to keep up the blogs for a while."
"Smart move." But now Clint was looking at her the way he looked at her last night, and she felt exposed somehow. He must have sensed her discomfort, because -"I guess I'd better go."
But Darcy didn't want to leave it like this, not without saying what she needed to say. She watched him finish dressing, slipping on his shoes and reaching for his wallet. "Hey Clint," she said, walking toward him. Last night things were so easy, the way they slipped into those roles. A part of her didn't want to lose that, not yet. She rested her hand on his arm, that submissive gesture he'd taught her.
He stopped, looking down at her hand. "Yeah?" he asked, tilting his head up, a confused look in his eyes, their color deepening as he understood what she was wordlessly asking. Then he smiled at her, tugging on a strand of her hair.
A weight lifted from her. "I've got a couple outfits that I never got to show off. Can you come back later tonight, tell me if you like them?" she asked, the tone of her voice slipping into the Sparrow's.
"Of course." He stood, fingers grazing her cheek, tilting her chin up just a little, as if he were inspecting her. "I'll be here at seven."
"Yes sir," she told him, lowering her eyes when he smiled at her. She felt him kiss her forehead, then watched as he left, closing the door behind him.