Darcy Lewis had an impeccable and excellent view of herself and abilities. She knew how to argue with any academic dealing with anything remotely poli sci related, could peacefully communicate with aliens, and what couldn’t be talked out could always be solved with either her beloved taser or swift right hook. To top it all off, she had amazing boobs if she did say so herself.
Given all her awesome, baking should not be this difficult for her. Darcy was 90% certain that no one had this much trouble. She even got a special scale to measure things to the correct gram and everything.
Determined to become a better baker, she decided that practice would make perfect. If not, she’d burn down Stark’s kitchen in protest.
The first ten batches of brownies--her grandmother’s from scratch recipe that had been scribbled on the back of an envelope, yellow with age and a probable chocolate smear on one corner--were only suitable for lobbing at superheroes being jerks.
For instance, Clint said something completely uncharitable when he picked up one from the first batch.
“Whatcha makin’ rocks for, Lewis?” He’d asked, causing Darcy to throw one at him (brownie leaving a few flakes of crumbs and a slight red mark directly in the middle of Clint’s forehead).
Kate laughed so hard and for so long that Darcy threw one at her too. (The ensuing brownie food fight did more damage than the time that Bruce hulked out in the kitchen and destroyed the coffee maker. Honestly, who knew that Tony’s super special blender was such a delicate appliance that baked goods could take it out. Seriously)
Sam and Rhodey both had the good sense to not disparage her attempts seven and eight. They were probably the only two men involved with the Avengers with any sense of self preservation.
Sam even went so far as to make a subtle suggestion as he tried his best to gnaw on the corner of a brownie.
“Have you considered maybe starting with the premix and finding the sweet spot baking temp wise on Stark’s stove?” He’d asked.
“Yeah,” Rhodey agreed. “Tony has probably fiddled with it. Once you figure that out you can do experiments with timing. You’ll get there. Baking is delicate work.”
Darcy started to argue, but that was actually pretty sound advice. So she went out and acquired a baking thermometer and several boxes of pre-mix, deciding to even go so far as to try out different types of baking pans in order to find the optimum set up. Hey, she could totally run an experiment. She’d seen Jane do science all the time. Darcy totally had this.
One month and roughly fifty boxes of brownie mix later, Darcy had moved back to her grandmother’s recipe. She’d found the baking sweet spot with this pyrex 9x13 pan and had re-calibrated Tony’s oven and had concluded that was where her previous failures stemmed from.
Darcy had prepared herself for the idea that maybe she wouldn’t be as awesome at baking as she was with everything else in her life. What she hadn’t anticipated was that she could get this good.
“Oh my god tell me you aren’t some sort of alien baking goddess come to take us over through your brownies,” Deadpool moaned. “Who cares?! You’re sexy as hell and bake like an angel. Gold star most improved!”
“These are quite delicious,” Thor agreed giving Deadpool the side eye. “Although I would have phrased that in a less crude manner.”
“Meh, semantics,” Deadpool shrugged. “Please give me the next pan, another glass of milk and the kitchen to myself.”
“Ew,” Darcy wrinkled her nose at him, but couldn’t help but smile at Thor’s look of pride.