“Hey, hey Bruce,” Darcy said, poking at the lump of blanket lying right next to her. It made a dying sort of noise and quivered a little as her finger made contact. “You should kind of like get up right now.”
The lump said nothing.
“Sweet Jesus on a popsicle stick,” Darcy sighed, reached down over to where she guessed Bruce’s butt might be and pinched it.
“ARGHAGH!” the lump said and Bruce’s fluffy, rumpled head poked out of the blanket, his eyes cracked open a smidge. “Miblewimble,” he said, his puffy and swollen eyes glaring at her accusatorily.
“Yes, that’s very sweet of you,” Darcy waved her hand impatiently. “But I think we’ve got a problem here.”
“What—?” Bruce’s eyes widened and he looked up at Darcy’s very naked chest. “I—what—you—my bed—“
“I’m not wearing anything,” she said bluntly, waving a hand at her bare chest. “And neither are you. I checked.”
Darcy leaned over and shoved her left hand in his face. “Why do I have a ring on my finger?”
“Oh, shit,” Bruce said and Darcy was inclined to agree.
twelve hours earlier
“Hey, HEY GUYS!” Tony said solemnly, addressing the common room with a half-full bottle of Smirnoff’s in one hand. “I think we should totally go to Vegas right now.”
“YEAH!” Clint agreed enthusiastically, raising his glass of beer in the air. “VEGAS, BABY!”
“Las Vegas is the most populous state in the U.S. state of Nevada and the county seat of Clark County,” Bruce recited upside down on the sofa, his legs hanging off of the back; several empty bottles of wine were littered around him. “Billed as the Entertainment Capital of the World, it’s famous for its consolidated casino-hotels and—“ Clint shoved his sock in Bruce’s mouth.
“An entire city devoted to entertaining the people of Midgard?” Thor asked, his eyes widening. “We shall go, verily!”
“JARVIS,” Tony belched, flinging aside the now empty bottle of vodka and picking up a new one. “Call everyone in my phonebook except for Cap and that reporter from Vanity Fair and get the jet ready. We’re going to Vegas!”
“It’s a very nice ring,” Darcy admired, holding it up to the sunlight. It sparkled so brightly that it nearly blinded her—she had to look from the corner of her eyes and squint. “Are those real diamonds?”
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god, oh my god—“ Bruce winced as Darcy smacked the back of his head. “Darcy,” he said, trying to look solemn and grave and failing. “I don’t think you understand the significance of the current situation.”
“Well, we’re both naked in the same bed and I’m wearing a ring,” Darcy said practically, raising her arms and stretching. “Hang on, did you use a condom last night?”
“W-what,” Bruce sputtered and raised the sheets up around him like a veil. “I don’t—what do—oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god—“
Darcy lifted the sheets up and inspected the bed linen. “I don’t think we did. And I don’t feel sore at all. So. Well. There’s that.”
“I blame this all on Tony. Everything is his fault,” Bruce muttered as he flopped back onto the bed.
“He did call me, pick me up and put me on his giant party plane to Las Vegas,” Darcy agreed and lay back down, their shoulders touching. “From what I remember, it was kind of fun.”
“Someone, please, shoot me,” he asked the ceiling plaintively. “Or better yet, Tony Stark.”
Darcy rolled over so that she was leaning on her side, facing Bruce. “Is being married to me really all that bad?”
“Where did you—“ Bruce flushed a deep red and cleared his throat, very carefully not making eye contact with the naked woman staring right at him. “I think you’re a very, very lovely woman Darcy and—I—well—I don’t think the current situation—that is, our ah, marriage, um—“
“Do you like me? At all?” She leaned into his face, their noses almost touching.
“Ah, Darcy, well, you—I—“
She leaned in and pressed her lips against his.