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the lewis rule

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"Before we start, I just want to say that the Lewis rule applies."

Darcy turns to look at Clint, one of her eyebrows perched high in warning. "Okay, so I would be verrrrry careful about how you answer this next question." She turns to look at Steve and his face is kinda pissy as well, like he's anticipating the stupid fucking shit that is bound to pour out of Clint's mouth and he's getting ready to chew his ass out on her behalf.

Frankly, Darcy's never been one that has appreciated overprotectiveness in a partner. She lived through the Spice Girls and Sydney Bristow - she knows how to take care of herself and not rely on a man for much of anything. (Okay, it's not so much the Spice Girls who helped with that but her deadbeat father and a string of spectacularly terrible boyfriends, but Darcy has a rich fantasy life and prefers not to linger on reality.) All that being said, she's not quite sure why she loves it when Steve goes all protective over her, but she does. It makes her tingle in very special places. She realizes this might put her in shit with the sisterhood, but considering the way Natasha is fucking through her FUCK list thanks to their little trade, she might already be on their shitlist.

"Clint, what is the Lewis rule?"

Clint grins like a maniac. "No current boyfriends/girlfriends/anatomical robots on your MARRY FUCK KILL list." He turns quickly to give a questioning look to Carolyn, who is fussing with a bunsen burner. The look she returns him oozes zero. fucks. given.

"Ah, proceed, good sir," Darcy says as she salutes Clint and he returns it.

"Um, no," Steve interjects, his brow knitted in concern. They've already had this chat and he fully understands that she is also of the zero fucks given persuasion when it comes to MFK, but apparently the game messes with his old timey values that Darcy has decided to find endearing. "I don't think so."

Behind him, Barnes makes a cracking whip sound.

Darcy spins on him, pinning him with her meanest stare. Barnes looks entirely unperturbed and it annoys the everliving fuck out of her.

"Yeah, who's getting laid on a regular basis, Barnes?" Darcy asks in a sing-song voice. "Answer: not you."

Barnes cocks his head like a confused, metal-armed puppy. "Aww, is that an offer?"

Weirdly enough, this exchange does not set off Steve's internal macho man. She's stopped trying to figure out how Steve processes Barnes and his big, fat mouth.

"Only to add you to my kill list, buddy."

"You mean I wasn't your KILL?" He sounds genuinely surprised. That's not what disturbs Darcy. What weirds the fuck out of Darcy is that he actually looks… pleased.

"Oh god," Tony says, "it was me, wasn't it?"

She ignores them and turns back to Steve.

"Seriously though, Steve, I don't mind. This is supposed to be fun! Just pretend I got turned into an alpaca and you had to, sadly, and after a lonnnng mourning period, move on."

Steve looks… well, he mostly looks confused. Behind him, Barnes's shoulders are shaking with silent laughter.

Jane's mouth is hanging open; although she did hang Steve's drawing on the wall in her apartment, she still hasn't quite gotten over Darcy turning Thor into a llama. "Jesus, Darcy, what is it with you and the farm animals?"

Darcy shrugs, then grins. "I would be a stunning alpaca, okay? My wool would be renowned throughout the land, all the dude alpacas would want to get with this, and I would have tons of very talented, beautiful alpacaettes."

"Also called crias," Carolyn says, slapping Clint's hand away as it slowly shimmies up her thigh.

"Really?" Darcy is actually a bit disappointed. But also: "Is there a part of your brain reserved for shit like this? Like what a baby lemur is called, what a group of ferrets is called..."

"A business," Carolyn answers.

"Are you fucking kidding me?"


Jane holds up her hands and growls lightly. "That's it, I'm going back to the mold."

(Oh yeah, has Darcy failed to mention that four months later they are still fucking watching mold grow? Apparently it has some mystical hooha properties that could revolutionize wound treatment, but they can't find a way to make it grow on Earth - J'excuse… MIDGARD. Jane's been trying to create some sort of sustained energy field that mimics Asgardian atmospheric pressure. At this point Darcy would rather die from a sucking chest wound than fill beakers full of pig shit and alien mold again.)

Sighing in defeat, Jane kinda shakes her head and walks away. Whatever, she can enjoy the mold patrol alone for the time being, Darcy will just have to run the risk of missing the epic event of a spore growing. She will learn to live with disappointment.

"Pop quiz, hot shot," Darcy says, pointing a finger gun at Carolyn. "Group of hippopotamuses!"

"A BLOAT!" Carolyn yells, so loud that Clint actually flinches and moves away from her.

"Pew pew," Darcy crows, firing her finger gun. Carolyn returns fire.

"Oh my god, there's two of them," Tony says as he turns to face Clint, horrified.




"Why are none of the guys participating?" Clint whines. It's been a week and a half and he has gotten a grand total of four ballots, all from gomers in the shipping/receiving department, three of whom want to MARRY Pepper Potts.

The fourth wants to FUCK Susan Cho.

(Cho seems to be nonplussed, but Natasha starts making passes through the mailroom with her weapons unholstered. Gomer number four swiftly changes his list.)

Sharon actually bends over the table they're all at in the conference room and starts banging her head against her forearm, the table rattling underneath it. "Oh my GOD, SHUT UP, BARTON!" The pen she was using to fill out her report rolls off the table. Darcy cringes; she's not holding back and it kinda looks like it hurts. But she gets it too - Clint has been harping on this for days and everyone's getting sick of it.

"You wanna know why? Because you waited four months to do it! The timing of sequels is crucial." And the surprising part is not what is said but rather that it is MARIA HILL who says it. If there was ever a woman to give Natasha a run for her onion status, it's Maria.

"Nah, I think the guys are just too scared to submit their lists," Genevieve says. Gen is Maria's right hand, was once head of Stark Industries digital security (before SHIELD stole her - Tony is still bitter about it), and one of only two women Tony will admit to hardcore wooing that refused to sleep with him. (He's also still really bitter about that. He takes disappointment very poorly.) Basically, she's official, Grade A badass. "I have serious doubts as to its security."

(And yep, her KILL was Tony. In retrospect, the number of women who want to kill Tony and who have also had heavy weapons training? Yeah, Darcy wouldn't want to be his bodyguard any time soon. )

Clint is clearly offended. "I have the results on a flash drive, hidden in an inaccessible place, and password protected!"

"Twenty bucks says it's boobies," Darcy guesses.

"Nope." Smug Clint is the worst Clint.

"Boobies123," Darcy says, then smiles when Clint's eyes bulge for a split second before he tries way too hard to appear unaffected. Bingo. Although Darcy guesses she shouldn't be throwing stones in her pretty glass password house. Her password to facebook is still clintisadick. She'll have to stick a 3 and an exclamation point in there somewhere.

(An aside? Clint has the worst poker face she's ever seen. How the hell do you end up a spy with a shit poker face? Meanwhile Natasha could gouge her own eye out Fury-style while pretending she's experiencing the same discomfort one does filing their nails.)

"See? Plus, I think they find it awkward cause most of the women here aren't single, and something tells me the guys wouldn't like other guys speculating about having sex with their girlfriends," Genevieve adds.

"SO?! Half of the Avengers have significant others, I didn't see the ladies having any trouble objectifying us." Clint is gesticulating wildly at this point; he tends to get a bit cranky when he's boxed into a corner, and as the only man in the room other than Tony, if he thinks he's winning this conversation, he is so sorely mistaken.

"Because the patriarchal nature of our society has made men believe that women are property to be owned, and many men inherently find it difficult to encroach on another's territory. Because they're dipshits," Natasha says, the women of the room looking at each other with something between awe and fear. She sounds like Genghis Khan reciting a women's studies textbook. It's good though - sometimes they all need to be reminded to NEVER EVER EVER FUCK WITH NATASHA. EVER. "Whereas SHIELD women just don't give a fuck, Barton."

"Oh I'm sorry, is that why you were walking through the mailroom with your rifle this morning, Nat?"

Until the end of her days, Darcy prays to the wee baby jesus that she is never on the receiving end of the look that Natasha pins on Clint. It's layered in the threat of casual violence that Natasha luxuriates in daily. It says, I know how to flay you in thirty seconds flat, bitch.

Points to Clint: he knows when to shut the hell up, because it is radio silence from his corner after that.

"Were you jealous, Pepper?" Tony says, finally breaking the really awkward, slightly threatening silence.

"Of all the women that wanted to kill you?" Pepper asks, with her patented Pepper-is-better-than-you smile. It's sweet though; it is very easy to see how much affection Pepper has for Tony, even though she enjoys pulling his metaphorical pigtails every once in a while. "Jealous wouldn't be the right word. Understanding. Yeah, that's the right one."




JARVIS would like to marry Miss Pepper Potts. He has run several scenarios through the Stark simulation suite and their compatibility is an impressive 94.93%.

She is beautiful and kind as he understands these qualities to be and the influence she has had on Tony over the years has made JARVIS appreciate Miss Potts more than any other person aside from Tony. She is the type of woman who brings out the best in people, and JARVIS finds parts of his code rewriting itself for her.

But JARVIS is loyal. He'd only do it if Tony were turned into a howler monkey like Miss Lewis had proposed to Miss Potts.




Sif is severely annoyed when she finds out that she has missed the ladies version of MARRY FUCK KILL.

So she gives her list. Out loud. In the commissary while the entire staff of SHIELD not sitting at their table pretends they aren't listening, but instead are eavesdropping like motherfuckers.

"I would marry son of Coul," she says proudly, and oh my god, Coulson actually blushes. Blushes! It is AMAZING. He looks positively bashful, which Darcy legitimately didn't think was humanly possible from the man. "You are a brave and competent fighter and would provide fine warrior daughters to protect our worlds from those who wish them harm."

Sif turns to face Rhodey, who looks up from his half-eaten burger in surprise.

"I would copulate with Colonel Rhodes," she says just as loudly and with zero shame. "I respect you as a fellow warrior, and I very much like your tunic," she says, waving at the bitchin' uniform that Rhodey is rocking like a stud. Rhodey smiles at her kindly, like he's genuinely grateful she respects him as a fellow soldier more than he's excited that she wants to fuck him, and the beginning of a crush is formed because seriously? Rhodey is kind of a doll.

"And kill?" Darcy asks because oh my god, please let it be...


"Oh for fuck's sake!" she hears Tony cry from the other side of the room. Darcy laughs so hard she actually chokes, requiring Steve to slap her on the back a bit to dislodge the piece of ding dong stuck in her esophagus.

Now that Steve is two seconds from being promoted to MARRY, she is seriously considering moving Sif to FUCK.




Okay, so Steve actually does make a list, though he is absolutely not handing it over to Clint. And yeah, he knows he's boring and that it violates that stupid rule that Darcy keeps insisting she doesn't mind, but he puts Darcy in as his MARRY.

They don't talk about it because she keeps making gagging noises every time Cindy from Communications starts talking about wedding planning around them or one of the fifteen engaged girls on the eighteenth floor starts flashing her engagement ring (Darcy calls the wave of recent engagements "SHIELD H1N1" - everyone's got it and it's making her a bit barfy), but she's someone he could see himself eventually settling down with.

Back in the day, people got married this early and this young, so it doesn't scare him to think about that type of commitment. But he woke up in a time of common law and quickie divorces, and it's just different. Darcy isn't the kind of girl looking to get married or get serious right now and Steve can respect that. He likes her and it's not 1945 anymore, so he can deal with whatever Darcy is willing to give him.

So yeah, Darcy's his MARRY. He won't tell her that.

Of course, he doesn't kill anyone. Actually, he knows he's supposed to pick a member of the opposite sex (which, frankly, he doesn't like at all, and doesn't care if they call him a fuddy duddy for it), but given Clint's attitude lately, he wouldn't mind tossing his shield into that throat, if only to get some rest from his shit.

Um, his FUCK is far more complicated.

No, he doesn't want to talk about it.




Carolyn looks exhausted.

Darcy hugs her around the shoulders and bops her head a bit with her own. "What's up, Caribou?" she asks. Carolyn doesn't particularly love the nickname that Darcy has bestowed upon her, but considering Carolyn calls her PeePee, she doesn't get a choice. (Darcy = Mr. Darcy = Pride & Prejudice = PeePee. No, Darcy doesn't understand her warped mind either. Too much science clearly makes people crazy.)

Carolyn tips her head against the white board with the equations that Banner is working on this week. It looks like the chemical equation for something Darcy doesn't remember because she slept her way through organic chemistry in first year. When Carolyn leans back, she's got red dry erase marker all over her forehead.

"You know how dogs do that leg kicking/twitching whatever when they sleep? Well, Clint does it too. Except it's more like a full body seizure."

"Oh," Darcy says at the exact same time that Clint pops his head around the corner and says, "Did you just compare me to a dog?" God, now that Natasha has finally stopped doing that ninja crap, Clint has apparently taken it up. (Those two are like creepy Ying and Yang.) Which makes it a lot harder to talk shit about their boyfriends, frankly.

Carolyn's eyes narrow. "If the collar fits."

Clint gets a strange, speculative look in his eyes, and Carolyn's mouth scrunches up like she's just sucked on the world's sourest lemon.

"Seriously, what are you doing in these dreams?" Carolyn asks, throwing her hands up in the air. Darcy stifles a laugh because in addition to the dry erase marker she's got all over her forehead, she's got it on her arms now too. She's like a reading rainbow. "I wake up and it's like the bastard child between interpretive dance to death metal and trying to run a three minute mile or something."

"I don't remember."

"Well, get some more sedate dreams, Clint! I don't know, take up sleep!crocheting or something. Otherwise, you're gonna take up sleeping on the couch."

From the look on Clint's face, he's taking it for the clear threat it is.




Bruce's MARRY is Betty.

Christ, he misses her. Especially when he's sanitizing his test tubes. They used to do this thing back at Culver when they were cleaning up the lab…


Sigh. Best not to think about Betty. Lately, an errant thought about Betty dating that new JACKASS Harvard physicist brought the Hulk out and resulted in the semi-destruction of the 25th floor, which Tony threatened to invoice him for because Bruce didn't know JACKASS's billing address...


Nevermind! Moving on...

FUCK? Hmm, Jane wore a ridiculously tight sweater the other day. Plus, she's pretty brilliant, which has always been a huge turn on for Bruce. Thor is a lucky man. (Thor is also why this is NEVER going to happen for so many different reasons. The Hulk may be impervious to lightning, but Bruce is not. It looks like it HURTS.)

Though... Maria Hill does hit all of his authoritarian kinks.


Well, Hulk can submit his own list, then.



KILL is easy. He'd definitely KILL Tony. Every day of the week and twice on Sunday.


Yeah, Bruce knows, big guy.




"Jane's cute," Clint says, shoveling yet another sloppy joe into his pie-hole. Darcy has been watching him inhale a disturbing amount of food for the last half-hour. This is why she likes eating lunch with the guys instead of why-yes-I'd-love-some-brussel-sprouts-on-the-side Sharon. They're good for her ego. She may eat like a hippo (in a bloat - HA!), but she'll never eat as much as Steve, Clint, or Barnes. "She's totally on my FUCK shortlist."

All of a sudden the crystal clear sky outside cracks with the loudest thunder Darcy has ever heard in her life. The windows rattle. Everyone freezes. Darcy can practically hear everyone's assholes tighten in fear.

Because across the commissary, Thor is looking at their table.

And it ain't raining panties this time. Just righteous, godly anger.

Jerry, Coulson's new assistant, stands up in the dead silent commissary and literally runs for his fucking life. Jerry's legs are practically spinning like the roadrunner, his squealing dress shoes against the floor the only noise in the frozen room.

"And now we know why Jerry failed his field agent test," Darcy laughs under her breath as she watches him zip down the hall on the other side of the the glass wall.

Darcy waves at Thor, who at this point practically has a little cartoon thundercloud hovering above his head. "He's just kidding, big guy."

Thor does not even look remotely swayed. Outside, it is suddenly pissing rain, the sky around the building black with Thor's rage. "Please tell Clinton that if he speaks of Lady Jane in that fashion again, I will be forced to visit violence upon him."

Clint looks so scared that if his butthole wasn't tighter than camels ass in a sandstorm, he would have definitely shit himself already. There is half-chewed sloppy joe visible in his gaping mouth. GROSS.

"Got it, champ." Darcy give Thor a thumbs up, which doesn't seem to lighten Thor's mood, though he finally stops staring at Clint like he's attempting to fry him with his eyeballs alone.

"I would not go outside any time soon, Barton," Sharon says as she walks by and makes buzzing electric noises.




Not a single person puts Jane down for anything. In fact, people stop using her name for a few days.




Tony's MARRY is Pepper. Tony's FUCK is Pepper.

Fuck the Lewis Rule. Even if Clint wasn't a moron and Tony didn't have to worry about his list falling into enemy hands, he'd still pick Pepper. He's never loved anyone the way he loves Pepper, and the shit he's been through in his life has taught him that when you find something that is pure and far too good for you, you grab it and you don't let go. Pepper is his forever. Period.

(OKAY, so maybe he wanted to be desired by the women of SHIELD, but he definitely doesn't have any adult playtime feelings for them. And… well, at least they desire to kill him. That's something.)

His KILL is Natasha. The other thing his troubled life has taught him? You take out an enemy before they get a chance to take you out.

(Natasha is a goddamn mutant because she can read his mind. At the daily debrief after he mentally cements his list, she sits across from him, sharpening the dagger she keeps in her boot with a whetstone while looking at him and smiling that reptile smile. Good god. Ten years ago sans Pepper and she'd definitely be his FUCK. Tony's always had a bit of a death wish.)




They're talking about the latest episode of Game of Thrones (they both agree that while Daenerys is hot as hell, they need to get her to stop marching around the desert like Moses and start FUCKING SHIT UP AGAIN) when Clint's head suddenly snaps around like he's a gazelle in the Serengeti.

"I gotta go," Clint says quietly. He's got a twitchy, antsy look on his face that Darcy can't quite parse.

"Clint?!" she hears Barnes call out. His voice is faint enough that she knows it's coming from outside the lab, but not too far.

"What?" Darcy asks.

Clint looks so weirded out. "I can't tell if he's fucking with me or not! I THINK HE IS, BUT HE IS SO WEIRD, I DON'T KNOW."

Then Clint yanks down the grate above Darcy's desk, heaves himself up and disappears through through the vent, the sound of flexing metal echoing behind him.

Lovely. Yet another place Darcy's going to have to start checking before she goes to bed now.

"Your boyfriend just left through an air vent," Darcy says flatly.

Carolyn doesn't even look up from the screen on her laptop. "I wish that I could say that it's the weirdest thing he's going to do today, but that's probably a lie."





Okay, so it's Natasha.

James will never tell her this (mostly because he doesn't think she wants to hear it), but he loves her.

And no, not that simplistic, shallow type of love that most people claim to have with every idiot that wanders into their bed. He's known her for decades; he is a part of her the way that she is a part of him. They will never be the marrying kind, and James has resigned himself to fitting into the life that Natasha wants and needs. He knows that she's had too many men try to push themselves and their desires on her, and he will never be that.

So he'll let her flit in and out of his life, climb into his bed and fuck him so hard he sees stars, then run off to find Cho and bend her over a desk.

Because honestly? That's pretty fucking hot.

(One day he's gonna ask if he can watch.)



This is where shit gets complicated.

James isn't the type of guy that goes after another guy's gal. Back before shit went to fucking hell and he ended up with an arm that sets off a metal detector, he was great at picking up girls. He never had any need to pilfer women, and say what you will about him, his mother raised him to be a good man - especially to his friends.

(Though it's harder and harder to remember his life before he fell, the memories a bit hazy like he watched them on a screen rather than lived them. But he doesn't like talking about it much. A bit of a downer.)

His problem is that his FUCK is Darcy Lewis.

And it's a problem because unlike most of the people playing the game he actually does want to fuck her. Don't get him wrong, he is absolutely thrilled for Steve; he genuinely likes them as a couple and Steve is infinitely more fun to be around now that he's getting his rocks off on the regular. Darcy's been real good for Steve, and it's one of the reasons he's as fond of her as he is.

But shit, ever since that quip about breathplay in the lab (yes, he know that wasn't what she meant in the slightest, but it gets her flustered when he teases her, and he loves that), he can't stop thinking about her like that, sitting on top of him, riding his cock, a silk strip wrapped around his neck and her fists, her tightening it until he can't breathe, can't beg anymore.

Wait, rewind. The fantasy goes more like this:

So she's wearing that ridiculous purple underwear that he found in her drawer. He finds out because she lets him peel off her clothes, which he does very slowly. He's always enjoyed lengthy, teasing foreplay. When he gets his hand in those purple panties of hers, she's wet for him. Soaking. She's practically dripping onto his hand when he slides his fingers into her. He gets her all hot and bothered until she begs him to put his mouth on her.

James loves to get head, but he likes giving it so much more. There is just absolutely nothing better than getting your head between a woman's thighs and making her come all over your mouth. Especially when she isn't nervous or self-conscious about riding a man's face, and considering the noises he's heard coming out of Steve's apartment? Yeah, Lewis is a screamer. He's not going to lie: he's jerked it to the thoughts of the sounds he'd get out of her going down on her, so it features heavily in this fantasy of his.

So yeah, he imagines getting her off once or twice with his mouth, letting her ride his fingers until she's all twitchy and loose and ready to be fucked. He'd make her beg for that, too.

And, uh. This is where it gets… interesting.

Steve's there. Watching. And telling her what to do. Telling him what to do.

And here's where it gets interestingly complicated: in his fantasy, he fucks Darcy, but Steve fucks him.

(Yeah. So his FUCK is really Darcy and Steve. Together. Jesus. He needs a drink.)




Which is partially why when James submits his list to Barton, his name is down for MARRY and FUCK. (Tony is his kill 'cause it's not exactly a stretch.)

This should be fun.




Clint's being weird. Weirder than normal, which is saying a lot. A lot.

Carolyn gets really quiet. (BECAUSE OF CLINT'S LATENT NINJAING.)

"Did you tell Clint I changed my FUCK to Thor?"

Darcy scrunches her nose and shakes her head.




Thor does not like this strange custom of theirs. Though he has sown his wild oats as a youth, being told that he must speculate as to whom he would wed or copulate with if Jane was turned into a mongoose (he is still unclear as to what this beast is, but he does not like it) is deeply offensive to him.

Jane is his intended. He would love her whether she were woman or mongoose (again, whatever that might be).

He would also never harm a woman... unless she was evil.

Midgard, while lovely, is a strange, strange place.




She's flipping through Steve's pad when she sees it.

For a guy that can draw so exceptionally well, his handwriting is total chickenscratch ugly. But Darcy recognizes her name next to MARRY and a sketch of her eyes and a really, really pretty ring. She doesn't know why, but for some reason this doesn't bug her in the slightest.


Darcy's not going to linger on how fucking gaga she is for Steve at this point because she's never been that type of girl. Or apparently not.

She feels her heart stutter a bit as she looks farther down.

FUCK: BUCKY is written below it. There is an agonizingly beautiful sketch of Barnes's face beside it, the detail so refined that it almost looks like a photo. Steve has gotten the curve of his mouth drawn perfectly, the depth of his eyes nailing the mix between cocksure and haunted that typifies Barnes. Darcy isn't sure if she can explain the feeling it evokes, but it's a bit like her heart bellyflopped into a brick wall.

She can hear Steve make his way back to the living room with her requested Coke.

Steve freezes as soon as she looks over her shoulder at him and he can clearly see what she's holding in her hands. It's the first time Darcy's ever seen him look legitimately scared. She really doesn't like it.

He shifts around the couch slowly, like he's worried about spooking her. He sits beside her. "Are you upset?"

Okay, Darcy's a girl of the twenty-first century: she understands the hot factor of guy on guy (Steve on Barnes? Lord have mercy) and once had a drunken quasi-threeway with her roommate and her roommate's lacrosse-playing boyfriend. (And shhh, for a while she had Natasha in her FUCK category before switching to Steve.) But even the most open-minded of people still don't exactly want to hear that their boyfriend has been having serious sex thoughts about anyone, regardless of gender. She has a sneaking suspicion that Steve is probably ultimately worried about her being upset that he's been thinking about fucking a guy. Reality? She feels more insecure because it's about someone he clearly loves.

But she also trusts Steve not to hurt her. And where the fuck did that come from?

She shakes her head. "No," she says, and the relief that breaks over his face is like a slap it's so strong. Even though she is trepidatious and Steve is a lot less confident about this - about people's feelings for him - than he seems given that he's a pretty commanding person, she knows that his love life has always been a bit fucked up and cruel. She made a decision early on not to contribute to that, even if it required her getting over her fucking insane number of relationship issues.

"Have you always wanted to?"

Steve takes a deep breath.

"It was different. Before I looked like this, I'd thought about it, but I was too sick, and I-" Steve swallows and bites his lip, "wasn't sure he'd want me. I looked like a rag doll. Then with the war… it was just hard."

It is so fucking strange to hear Steve Rogers talk about himself this way. (Also fucking strange? Being reminded her boyfriend FOUGHT IN WORLD WAR II. What is her life?) She's seen the photos of him before the serum, and yeah, he wasn't the beefcake he is now, but it makes her sad that he still lingers on this shit. Something tells Darcy that the window dressing wasn't what made Steve special to those who knew him back then anyway. The more she gets to know him, the less and less it means to her, too.

"Now…" He's gone a bit pink in the face, but it's not a full blush. The look he turns on her is incredibly intense, makes her insides sizzle a bit. "Now, when I… think about it, it's not just me and him."


(And okay, Darcy is not the type of girl that feels a lot of embarrassment, but when she falls off the couch? Yeah. She blushes so hard that even Steve cracks a small smile.)




(So here's the thing that Steve probably should have told Darcy, but didn't:

The war was hard. The war made it hard: made it hard to care about people, made it hard to get close to anyone. He's never fucked Bucky, but he knows what Bucky tastes like, the sounds he makes when he comes.

So yeah, Steve lied by omission. He's not proud.)




Submission: Phillip Coulson
Classification: unclassified
Date: September 3, 2014

Marry: Virginia Potts

Fuck: Clinton Barton and Sif

Kill: Anthony Stark


"Holy SHIT," Clint squeaks, folding the paper up and tucking it into his pocket.




Darcy doesn't even know she's staring until she feels Jane's sharp little elbow pop her one in the ribs.

"Okay, you need to stop looking at Barnes like that," Jane tells her primly, tapping her boot against the concrete floor.

Barnes is off with a couple of the guys at the far end of Tony's workshop; they're all there, supposedly, to help Tony test some new type of propulsion system, but mostly it's been the boys looking at Tony's antique car collection (why he keeps it in his fucking workshop where he manages to blow up approximately 90% of his experiments, Darcy will never know) while the girls roll their eyes and fantasize about all the shit they could be doing if not waiting for the guys to get their acts in gear.

Pepper disappears after about five minutes, but then again, she's had a looooot of practice dealing with Tony's ADHD, which is to namely ignore him, go away, and get shit done. Darcy would follow that sage advice, except… yeah, she's been staring at Barnes.

She's not going to lie and say that she's never looked at him like that before, especially since three quarters of the shit he says is dripping in sexual innuendo and the man is actually pretty gorgeous even with the terminator arm (maybe even hotter because of it? Wow, SHIELD has fucked up Darcy's sexual identity more than she thought possible). But ever since Steve's confession and her own little mini-confession to herself that if she was a free agent, she wouldn't turn Barnes down for a roll in the sack, she can't seem to stop LOOKING AT HIM.

(And thinking about that mouth tastes like, what it could do to her… ugh, Jesus.)

"I am not looking at him like anything," Darcy snaps, folding her arms over her chest indignantly.

If there is anything that Jane has perfected better than her mom tone, it's the do-you-think-I'm-stupid stare. It is at opportune moments like this that she whips it out and pummels Darcy's face in with it. "Please. Darcy, you are practically banging him with your eyes."

"Oh my god, are you judging me?" Darcy asks. "And who uses banging as a verb anymore other than teenagers and Tony Stark?"

Jane doesn't even try to pretend. The longer they've known each other, the more their relationship has shifted from boss---intern to older-anal-retentive-sister---younger-bad-choices-but-fun-sister. "Listen, up until Steve, your choices of bed mates was frightening, Darcy. Please don't ruin this delightful good choices streak of one by sleeping with Soviet Russia over there."

Darcy gasps. OH. It's on. "Oh Jane. Shall we play your greatest hits? Like Dr. DICK?"

"His name was Richard, Darcy. And he was a world renowned hematologist."

"DICK. Dr. Dick, DICK M.D. He was a world renowned douchebag who dumped you via TEXT MESSAGE and ate the last of the cocoa puffs, the fucker. You do not get to play bad boyfriend bingo on me without taking some well deserved hits, dude."

Barnes is looking at them now and Darcy resists the urge to feel hot under the collar. God, he always looks like he's thinking about sex and it is distracting.

"Plus, I will not be judged by a woman whose FUCK was Tony Stark," Darcy hisses.

"WHAT!!?" she hears Tony bellow from the other end of the workshop. Barnes doubles over in laughter.

It is at this moment that Darcy is profoundly glad that Jane is a scientist and not one of the X-Men because if she had powers, Darcy would probably be on fire right now. Or an alpaca for realsies.

"I'm going to strangle you in your sleep, Darcy," she says with a conviction that actually makes Darcy check her door twice and confirm with JARVIS that Jane's access to her quarters has been rescinded that night when she finally works up the nerve to go to bed.

Death doesn't come for Darcy in the night, but when Darcy and Jane arrive the next morning, all of their lab's perfectly fine, but slightly antiquated equipment has been replaced with top of the line Stark Industries gear. It is a scientist's wet dream.

(Tony even gets her a miniaturized proton accelerator, for christ's sake.)

"Oh. My. God," Jane says, running her hand over an electron microscope that probably costs more than the house that Darcy lived in growing up. Jane looks like she's in love.

"Thor's gonna shove a lightning bolt up Stark's ass," Darcy says to Clint, who is watching Jane molest the new equipment with an amused look on his face.

"Already tried that a while ago. Just helps superpower the suit."

"Hmm," Darcy says with a sigh. "Pity."

"I wonder if Tony would buy me that Bowtech Experience if I put him down as my FUCK," Clint says like he is actually seriously considering it.

(It thunderstorms for the next three days and midtown Manhattan floods. Neither Tony nor Clint put a toe outside the tower.)









--arcy? What? What do I do? I don't understand… Oh my god, Steve, how many times did we go over this, you just read the script that I wrote for you. Darcy, I am not reading that! Come on it'll be funn--



You've reached Dr. Jane Foster. Please leave a message after the tone and I will get back to you unless you are Darcy Lewis because Darcy Lewis is dead to me.

"Jane, that almost hurts, okay? Mongooses are cute and badass - they can kill cobras, dude! I turned Stark into a howler monkey and Clint into a dumbass honey badger! Clint didn't even have a girlfriend at the time! I just did it for FUN and he totally looks like the type of stupid that would climb a tree to fight a snake! IT COULD BE WORSE."









Pro: amazing boobs, makes me laugh for days, i think i love her, would most likely let me eat in bed

Con: probably on her kill list, Steve would put his shield through my throat, Barnes is starting to get weird about her and he is FREAKING ME OUT



Pro: super hot, already bangs me and hadn't dumped me yet, not evil, redhead ohhhhh yeah, much smarter than me, puts up with my sleep yoga

Con: may regret not putting me on her kill list, doesn't like banjo music, may be in love with my bow more than me, has a thing for a disney cartoon fox, violates the Lewis Rule



Pro: insane in the sack

Con: INSANE in the sack




Pro: i dig smarties, looks like she'd be a wildcat in bed, saw her talking to Bruce about tantric

Con: THOR, death by lightning



Pro: her marksmanship skills get me hard, makes Rogers uncomfortable, unironically enjoys cock rock

Con: in love with Rogers, hates me, likes eating salads too much


Irene in weapons

Pro: wants to kill me (hate sex is hot)

Con: wants to kill me, has access to endless supply of automatic weapons, likes robert pattinson


Coulson (+ Sif??)

Pro: that thing in madrid

Con: that thing in cairo, would thor kill me?



Pro: i really want that new bow and SHIELD is being a tightfisted bag of dickgobblers

Con: it's tony, what is that facial hair?





(no explanation necessary)




Jerry's MARRY is Maria Hill.

She is so scary.

God, he loves her.




Nick Fury's KILL is Darcy Lewis, if only because she's started doing that thing where she changes song lyrics from eyes plural to eye singular when she thinks he isn't listening. AGAIN.

(He had heard her humming I've got hungry eye, I feel the magic between you and I, when had gone down to the lab to talk to Banner about what the hell all the pig shit requisitions were for, and when he had shot her a nasty glare, she had just smiled quietly.)

He'd kill her but he also kind of wants to hire her as an interrogator. Fury has - hyperbole aside - never met a more aggravating human being in his life.

His MARRY and FUCK are classified. So fuck off.




"What are you thinking about?"

Clint's got that dopey look on his face that he usually gets when he's cleaning his bow or clandestinely oogling Carolyn.

"Coulson and Sif."

"Coulson and Sif…" The words come out of Darcy's mouth before she can stop them, more a reflex than anything. She instantly regrets it. Why? Why does she set herself up for these things?

"And me."

Darcy lets out a strangled noise she's never heard come out of her mouth before (sounds a bit like the death rattle of a ferret, if she had to guess) and then sighs. Ew, dude. "Okay, if I ask you something and the answer is gross threesomes with your poor, unsuspecting co-workers, you have permission to lie to me."

Clint smiles. "What's the fun in that?"

There was a point in New Mexico where Darcy thought, there is no way I will ever work with such endearing weirdos again, and actually got a bit sad about it. IF ONLY SHE KNEW.

"Have I told you about the one where you and Natasha--"

"AUGHHH!" Darcy screams, plugging her ears and turning away from him. Jane holds up her hands in annoyance from the other end of the lab. Carolyn, on the other hand, looks like she knows exactly what they're talking about and shakes her head, shooting Darcy a sympathetic look.

("Last night he told me about the one with me and Jane," Carolyn tells her later. "It would have annoyed me, but they he went down on me for like an hour so he was forgiven. Thoroughly.")

Oh god. The other day Cho wore the shortest skirt known to mankind and unless Darcy was mistaken, Natasha has graduated from leaving hickies on her neck to leaving them on her thighs. She can't help it: suddenly she imagines looking down at Natasha's head between her own spread, pale thighs.


"You're thinking about it, aren't you?"

"Shut up."




The thing is that Clint is weirdly a bit of a goofball when not Hawkeye. He's sweet and goofy and likes the dumbest pranks. Carolyn thinks that it has something to do with needing to unwind after missions. He tends to stay away from her after them, which hurts her feelings a bit at first, but when they come back from Lithuania that one time after Natasha is wounded and Bruce goes missing, and she finally gets to see the wreckage their missions leave behind? She stops minding and stops giving him shit for it.

Yeah, he acts like a bit of a frat boy child at times when he's "off", but she's beginning to understand how it's a coping mechanism for him. People tend to find Clint incredibly intimidating when they meet him because he doesn't really let his guard down for most people and he can be extremely aloof with people he doesn't entirely trust. So while his uber laidback attitude can grind on the nerves occasionally, she takes it as an incredible compliment that he trusts her enough to include in her in the inner circle that gets to see this side of him.

That being said, sex with Clint is always intense. The shift in mood is just so, so palpable and he is never goofy when he is fucking her, though he sure as fuck isn't aloof either. Just… intense. It is hands down the best sex she has ever had in her life.

She doesn't really give Darcy any of the details because she looks like someone is disemboweling a kitten in front of her when Carolyn tells her about the Jane thing, but ugh. He had waited until he was down between her legs before he told her about this little fantasy of his (FOR SCIENCE! he called it). He had laid it all out in excruciating detail, all the things he wanted Jane to do to her, wanted her to do to Jane, that he wanted to do to the both of them. When he had touched her after and found her ridiculously wet, he had laughed and bit her thigh.

And then he made her come and come and come until she was a babbling mess.

It was so good that when he woke her up at 6am with a foot in the fucking kidney during his nightly sleep tango? Yeah, she wasn't even mad.




Rhodey doesn't submit a list.

It takes Tony less than 48 hours to discover it's because he's seeing Genevieve. (And you don't mess with someone in digital security. You're pretty much asking them to start looking into your browser history and no man in the history of history would ever be okay with that, no matter how sincere their "oh no, I don't look at porn ever!" declarations are.)

"JUDAS!" Tony yells down the hall to Rhodey and Genevieve's retreating backs, Rhodey's arm slung low around her hip.




In the end, Clint only gets 62 submissions. HA, SUCK IT. Darcy's was clearly the most successful MFKfest ever conducted. She puts it on her curriculum vitae.

Apparently the guys are super indecisive because no one really outright wins MARRY or FUCK the way the Steve and Thor did, though if you actually counted the votes… holy fucking shit, Darcy wins MARRY. WHAT? Oh god, no. She's already dating one weirdo from SHIELD and that is plenty. Thank you.

(Somehow she chalks up her win to the fact that, in their minds, she's probably the woman least likely trained in the ways to kill a man - or turn him into a llama - if he continually left his DIRTY BATH TOWELS ON THE BATHROOM FLOOR. When the hook and the dirty hamper are like two fucking feet away! Not that, you know, Darcy is sublimating or anything. Not even Captain America is perfect.)

Natasha - shocker - wins FUCK. Yeah, in your dreams, guys. (Cho actually makes a pretty good standing in FUCK, which no one is going to tell Natasha about because they've managed to have zero firearm deaths in the building for 238 days, which is a record.)

Clint & Tony tie for first place in the KILL category, which makes Darcy so pleased she could wriggle like a happy puppy. Tony actually looks upset that he didn't win outright, which is entertaining to no end.

If you ignore the men, Maria Hill wins the KILL category handily, though less than half of the guys submit a KILL with a woman. Apparently chivalry isn't dead. (JUST MARIA, HAR HAR.)

Maria looks like it's Christmas morning. "Fuck yeah," she says. She and Natasha fist bump without even looking at one another. It is the coolest thing Darcy has ever seen in her life.

Maria growls at Jerry as she leaves the room. Jerry noticeably twitches in fear, then sighs dreamily.

The men of SHIELD are so weird.




Date: September 18, 2014; 13:34 EST
Subject: HOW DARE YOU!



Dr. Clint Barton, ESQ



Date: September 18, 2014; 14:17 EST
Subject: Re: HOW DARE YOU!

Oh my god, Clint. You didn't change the password from boobies123!

Also? Your locker in the men's change room? NOT INACCESSIBLE.

Disgusting, stinky and unpleasant? Yes.

Inaccessible? No.


PS: your new default signature is SO DOUCHEY, OMG.

PPS: I would not let you eat in bed, so I would suggest you rethink your MARRY, weirdo.



Date: September 18, 2014; 14:17 EST
Subject: Re: HOW DARE YOU!


I'm going to tell Steve that you were the one that started that tumblr about his shoulder to hip ratio.

Yeah, he just walked by. Enjoy that conversation tonight, Lewis.



Date: September 18, 2014; 14:29 EST
Subject: Totally not Clint's secret MFK shortlist
Attachment: epicsuperflymfkshortlist.doc




Date: September 18, 2014; 15:03 EST
Subject: Re: Totally not Clint's secret MFK shortlist





Date: September 18, 2014; 15:04 EST
Subject: Re: Totally not Clint's secret MFK shortlist

Sleep with one eye open. I'm not kidding. That vent opens up right over your head, Lewis.




Darcy nails her vent shut.

"ACK!" Tony screams when JARVIS informs him of her getting her home improvement on. "No unauthorized building modifications, Darcy!"

It's totally worth it. She can hear Barton bitching in the ducts the following night when he finds the modified super glue she stole from Tony's lab that she just might have spread out on the duct before she nailed the grate shut.

(When she looks in the vent the next morning, his pants and gloves are still glued to the duct floor. HA. Eat it, Barton.)




Steve can hear Darcy singing in the small canteen on the 17th floor as she makes her sixth cup of coffee of the morning.

I wear my eyyyyyepatch at night, so I can, so I can...


Fury's voice echos down the hallway loud enough that a couple of the junior agents hanging around the printer actually flinch.

A Darcy-shaped blur whizzes past him, spilling coffee on his shoes.





Saturday night means pizza, beer, and whatever ball game is playing on ESPN for the evening. They'll watch any team except the Dodgers. Too many bad memories there. But considering the Mets' track record this season, they haven't been building any good new ones, either.

Steve refuses to root for the Yankees, so Mets it is, even though James doesn't give two shits about the Yankees. Baseball was always way more of Steve's thing than James's - he mostly enjoys it because Steve does.

Darcy calls it their man-date night and generally stays away, though once she strolled in, drunk as fuck, patted him on the head like a dog as she walked by them watching a Cardinals doubleheader, and promptly passed out face-first on Steve's bed, bent into a weird position that had her snoring like a chainsaw.

(Watching her start to drunkenly sing the national anthem as Captain America attempted to wrestle off her boots and pants and tuck her into bed? BETTER THAN THE GAME. Even Steve had turned beet red from laughter by the time he had finished.)

Tonight, he's surprised to find her sitting on the couch in a pair of ratty jeans and a shirt that looks suspiciously like one of Steve's. It's big on her, but she's wearing some sort of tank top underneath it. Whatever. She looks good. He can think it, it's not a crime.

By the fifth inning, Darcy looks bored out of her mind, showing about the same interest in the game as she's been showing in the mold when he's been bumming around the lab, annoying her. (A theory that is proven correct when she sighs, "Jesus, this is slower and less interesting than the fucking mold. Matt Harvey may actually pitch worse when NOT injured. This is painful!")

Darcy and Steve are throwing looks at each other over his shoulder (why the hell did HE end up in the middle seat?) and frankly, he's getting a bit sick of playing the third wheel in the room.

"Listen, I'm going to--" he starts to say, sitting up, before Darcy grabs a handful of his shirt and holds him still. There's a beat of about five seconds where no one moves and no one speaks and the only sound in the room is the commentator on the tv droning on about how the Mets suck.

Finally, Darcy sighs almost like she's annoyed and throws her leg over his thighs, shifting until she's settled into his lap.

"Whoa," he says as he raises his hands, palms out like he's trying to prove he's not a threat. James has no fucking idea what is going on, but when he turns to Steve, he has a passive, barely-there look pasted on his face. Definitely not the look of a man who is pissed that his girl jumped into the lap of his best friend.

She leans forward, her hands cupping either side of his jaw, and brushes her lips agonizingly gently over his mouth. He's ashamed to admit that he does absolutely nothing at all, still frozen in shock as she leans back, her eyes finally flicking up to search his.

God, the shirt she's wearing fucking smells like Steve. He's got a lap full of warm, willing girl and a shirt that smells of Steve - his cologne, soap and sweat - and it takes him exact ten seconds to go to rock fucking hard and ready to rumble. He's never asked Steve what kind of effect the serum had on his libido, but for James, whatever they pumped him full of makes him want to fuck endlessly and gives him the stamina to do it.

"Tell him it's okay," Darcy says, turning to Steve. He's known Darcy for a while now, and she's not exactly a hard girl to read; she's a civvie, and an honest one at that. She's normally pretty damn confident and cocksure (which, frankly, he loves), but it's easy to tell when she's confident and when she's trying very hard to appear that way. Considering the dip in her voice, the way that her hands are trembling just so on his shoulders, he can tell this is definitely Door Number Two.

James doesn't really like it, so he puts his hands on her hips; she squirms a bit against the pressure (and god, she's fun to hold - lots of body-warm curves in all the right places), and he has to bite his lip because she's grinding down right on his dick.

"It's okay," Steve says, and his voice is strained, almost… awed. It's really, really… James doesn't even know. He can hear how turned on Steve is - his voice drops about an octave and a half and his speech gets all slow and thick. "I want you to touch her."

His mind is officially blown. James looks at Steve (thankfully with his mouth not gaping open) for a long, LONG moment before Darcy touches his neck.

It's only then that he gets his bearings back and starts to see how nervous Darcy really is; James can hear how hard her heart is pounding. This time when she leans in to kiss him, he kisses back, which finally seems to edge back her nerves a bit, letting herself sink into him. Darcy has the most ridiculous mouth: fat lips and warm, clever little tongue.

He just kisses her for a bit. Although she initiates the kiss, she lets him control it, which he really, really likes. James tilts her head, slotting their mouths together in a way that lets him press hers open more. She breathes an assent into his mouth when his hands drift down over her breasts and settle on the button of her jeans. He flips open the button and jerks down the zipper, their mouths separating with an obscene, wet pop as he looks down to see his good work.

Between the undone zipper of her pants… oh my god, it's the purple panties.

She follows his eyes down and sighs irritably. Good. She should learn not to doubt him. "I guess you were right," she says.

When he gets his hands into those panties, it's just like the fantasy: she's wet. So fucking wet and warm and yielding when he presses his fingers against her a bit. It's just like he expected, only better. So much better.

What he doesn't expect?

Steve's mouth two inches from his when he turns his head, whispering, "Bucky," before he leans in to James and kisses him with way too much tongue to be proper while James slips two of his fingers right up into Steve's girl.

Holy SHIT.

(He does make Darcy beg. And she begs so, so beautifully that he thinks he could get used to the sound. Her voice is broken and needy and it hits every single button inside of him.

The best thing in the entire world? Watching Darcy come underneath him, around his cock, her eyes squeezed tight with pleasure. Listening to Steve murmur low in his ear while she does it, his body hot and heavy on James's back, his cock inside of him, stretching him perfectly, pushing James closer and closer to the begging point. But more than that? The warm, blissed-out feeling of coming between them, the familiar smell of Steve and feel of safety tastes so much like home that for a moment, he forgets everything but feeling good.

He's happy.)




If he was worried about any awkwardness between them afterwards, Monday morning puts that worry out of James's head.

"Yo asshole," Darcy says rounding the corner, parking herself beside him at the counter where he's eating a slightly overripe banana. She opens her mouth before snapping it shut as she notices the small cluster of agents congregating around the really shitty microwave that takes an hour to heat a bowl of soup, clearly reassessing her strategy considering she has an audience. "Um, I want those back, okay? I know you took them. They are not cheap!"

Yeah, he had grabbed her purple panties off the living room floor the next morning and shoved them in his pocket. James does like his trophies. "Oh, I know," he says, taking another decadent bite of his banana. "Good quality, holds up to wear and tear, hmm? But finders keepers, Lewis."

Her mouth falls open. "What the fuck are you going to do with them?" she asks without innuendo, barely finishing her words before holding up a hand to his face. "Nevermind! I don't want to know."

He smiles as she waits for him to offer to give them back; she's going to be waiting a long time. "Seriously? You're not going to give them back?"

"Nope." He tosses his banana peel over her shoulder and into the garbage can behind her.

"Such a fuckerrrrr," she says, giving him the finger before walking out the door.

(Later, when he gets back to his apartment, he can smell her in his place, the lingering scent of that body spray she keeps on her dresser between her ipod charger and her lava lamp. When he opens his closet, there's an empty hanger where is favourite bomber jacket normally hangs, a yellow sticky note taped to it.


The next day, when he spots her in the lobby, the jacket snugged up around her body and Steve's arm hung around her hip, tucked into the pocket, he can't seem to care about the loss.

The look she shoots him is so shit-eating.

God, this is going to be fun.)




They're in the middle of a debrief when Steve's phone goes off. Yeah, he doesn't even have to guess… he knows.

"Oh shi--"

It's the eye of the tiger, it's the thrill of the fight...

Bucky absolutely loses his shit while Clint laughs so hard that tears prick into the corner of his eyes. Natasha looks about as amused as she ever does, while Tony makes comments under his breath about stealing her to work for him. Stark Industries is all about smartass people who mock and ignore him, he says. She'd be perfect.

Fury looked so pissed. Or slightly more pissed than his normal, pissed self.

He points at Steve, the muscles above his good eye twitching. "You learn how to lock that fucking phone or I'm going to get Hill to smash it into a thousand pieces."

Darcy gets a job offer from Interrogation the next day.