In Steve's history, that was the kind of command one didn't ignore. He answered immediately and hit the ground hard, dropping to the apartment floor, face turned, cheek and hands flat against hard woods.
His eyes followed as a foam dart flew past his head; squishy and very much not deadly. Brows furrowed, he waited a moment longer, but nothing else appeared to follow. Finally, he scanned the area for the woman who'd shouted at him.
A curvy, buxom brunette appeared, one orange and blue dart between her teeth like a cigar, and a plastic yellow gun hanging from her hand. She quirked her head, brow furrowed. "Wow, dude, that was a little hardcore. You all right?"
Steve pushed himself up, feeling his skin turn red with embarrassment as he dusted his pressed pants off. It wasn't as if any of the floors in Stark tower were dirty, but he needed something to focus on. "Uh, I'm fine," he assured, letting his eyes rise to see her, standing with her hip cocked, staring at him, eyebrow arched now.
"If you're sure… I mean, you hit the ground pretty hard." She shrugged, drawing his eyes to wear her shirt stretched over her ample cleavage; he looked away quickly.
"Don't get me wrong, it was cool. I mean, I should be used to the quick reflexes by now, but… Still awesome." She waved her plastic gun. "Sorry, if I like, freaked you out or something…" She narrowed her eyes and looked him over searchingly. "I didn't hit some kind of weird PTSD button or anything, did I?" She motioned to her head. "'Cause I know a few of you guys are kind of twisted up; mental battle scars or something. Coulson passed out a leaflet; I skimmed."
"Oh, um, no…" He shook his head. "No, I just—" He shrugged. "Somebody says duck and I've found it best to do so, ma'am."
Her nose wrinkled. "Whoa, don't break out the formal titles, dude." She stuck a hand out, her thick, plastic, neon bracelets knocking together. "It's Darcy or Master Commander." She shrugged. "Or Master Commander Darcy, I guess."
He took her outstretched hand and shook it, his eyes falling as he noticed that her skin was really soft and warm and her hand so was so tiny in his grip. Once upon a time, he wouldn't even meet her shoulder, leaving him eye-level with— Oh. Right, buxom, he'd almost forgotten. His eyes darted up high as if to make up for the slight.
Master Commander Darcy chuckled.
"So, if you don't mind me asking, exactly what are you master commander of…?" he wondered, trying to turn the focus. "It's not a title I'm familiar with."
There was a noticeably masculine snort that Steve turned his head toward, but he was quickly distracted when Darcy shoved him back and out of the way; one of those foam darts flew past them, missing by mere inches.
"Hah!" she exclaimed, pumping her arm with victory. "Take that, Master Marksman!" she cried, her body pressed up against Steve's as her eyes darted around, a triumphant smirk tilting her lips.
Steve stared down at her, seeing mostly just her shiny brown hair, suddenly very aware of every inch of his body, at least from the shoulders down. Darcy's chest was squished against him; he tried really hard not to focus on that. One of his hands had settled on her waist when she pushed him back, his hands fanned out, and he suddenly realized her shirt had ridden up a few inches, letting two of his fingers touch bare skin.
Her hands weren't the only part of her that was warm and soft.
Darcy didn't seem to be having the same problem with his close proximity. "Come on, Handsome, you just became a prisoner of war…" She shrugged. "Or maybe I'm saving you, I don't know yet. I mean, he took his shot and didn't seem to care if you were in the crosshairs, so maybe you just became my liability…" she mused thoughtfully before taking his hand and dragging him toward the door. "Just keep those cat-like reflexes focused on something that isn't my rack and we'll make it through this.
Brows furrowed, Steve followed after her, looking back over his shoulder in confusion. "I—I'm sorry. I'm not sure what's happening here. I—"
Darcy sighed as the door closed behind them, leaving them in the hall, and turned to face him. "Barton and I are in an all out war; Nerf gun versus Nerf gun. Whoever can hit the other one ten times wins… So far, he's got eight to my five." She shrugged at his skeptical look. "So he probably gave me those; he likes my moxie or something, whatever." She waved a dismissive hand. "The point is that he's way too close to winning… And since you walked into the middle and you've got all that quick swag—" She waved a hand up and down his person, "—you're gonna help me… Or he'll shoot you and I'll play out some dramatic death scene where I fake weep on you while you uncomfortably lay on the ground, waiting for me to stop." Her eyebrows hiked. "Seriously, you should probably just hang tight and play along."
Steve sighed, shoulders slumping. "In my time, games were much simpler."
Darcy patted his arm. "Uh, sure… Whatever that means." She rolled her eyes. "So look, I've got a spare if you want it." She ducked down and unstrapped a plastic gun from her ankle.
He blinked at her. "You have a spare toy gun?"
She frowned. "Uh, duh, this is war!"
Slowly, Steve felt himself smiling, and took the gun from her. "War was very different where I come from, miss." At her pursed lips, he amended, "Darcy."
She nodded, looking pleased. "I never got your name," she reminded, checking his gun to make sure it was filled with foam darts.
"Oh, I'm sorry." He held a hand out once more. "Captain Steve Rogers," he introduced himself.
She gave his hand a good, hard pump. "Coolio. So Cap, you up for a little two-on-one action?" Her smile was positively sinful as she winked at him and turned on her heel. "Barton won't know what hit him!" she exclaimed, making her way down the hall.
For a moment, Steve just stared after her, his brows furrowed. He was fairly sure she was making a joke, but he wasn't entirely sure what it was. He jogged after her to keep up, forcing his eyes away from her other ample asset, currently being shown off by her attractive blue jeans. "Exactly why are you and Agent Barton doing this?" he wondered.
She looked over at him, seemingly confused by the question. "Fun," she told him simply.
He hummed, looking ahead of himself. "You couldn't just go to the pictures or play stick ball?"
"No," she laughed. "One, I suck at sports; like seriously, I had a note for cramps every week of phys ed. because guaranteed I was gonna to get hit in the face with something!" She nodded for emphasis. "And two, Clint's not really into sitting still when he doesn't have to."
Steve shrugged, nodding to himself as he agreed with her second reason. Barton could be fidgety if he didn't have a target in sight.
"Besides… He started it!" Her eyes widened. "Dude said hello by shooting me in the ass with his gun; he wrote 'hi' on the suction cup." She snorted, but looked amused. "Anyway, he needs all the fun he can get in his life. I mean, really, it gets kinda maudlin around this joint, especially after missions."
She eyed the vents suspiciously, like she thought Clint would be staring out of one, gun at the ready, just waiting for her to walk by.
"I cleared it with Coulson too. And while he didn't like the idea of me having a weapon—" She frowned. "—he so won't give me my tazer back! Talk about lamesauce," she scoffed. "Anyway, he thinks it's pretty cool for a distraction technique." She looked up at him, saying a little more seriously, "You can either put war in the grisly, deadly, blood and gore box, or you can revamp it in your head so that it's not always this shitty, terrible, life-altering thing that sucks you in and spits you out all broken and effed up, right?"
Steve stared at her, his brows furrowed thoughtfully. "I suppose so..."
"Totally," she said, nodding. "I mean, when the times comes, don't get me wrong, Barton'll be right on that. He'll trade the Nerf gun in for a bow and he'll kick ass. But for right now, if he wants to laugh and screw around, I'm down… Beats waiting for Jane to hold her hand out for Pop-tarts." She smirked. "Plus, I totally talked Stark into building a 'Tart dispenser, so I mean, if she's good and fed, I can pal around with whoever and not have to worry about whether or not she's starving to death."
Steve's lips twitched with amusement. "And this is how you want to spend your free time?"
"Dude, I'm hanging with a deadly assassin, playing shot for shot with Nerf darts." She laughed. "The only way this gets better is if some handsome, all-American hero asks me out for a date this Friday." She winked at him teasingly. "I've got old school strawberry milk shakes and a drive-in theater in store for that lucky dude."
Steve stared at her, eyebrows hiked, feeling a blush fill his cheeks again, and gave a cough to clear his throat, at a loss for what to say.
Darcy chuckled to herself. "No worries, Apple Pie. You'll get used to me." She tapped his chest with the end of her gun and smirked. "Keeping you on your toes until then though? That's gonna be fun!"
He paused in his steps, watching as she continued forward, her hips swaying, gun swinging at her side, dark, shiny hair falling in curls down her back. She winked at him over her shoulder. "Keep up, Steve." She raised her arms up and shouted, "No man left behind!"
He smiled slowly, deciding that maybe 'fun' was exactly what he needed right now. Just as he started forward, something flew past him, making him pause. A dart was stuck to the wall just to his right. He looked up and to the left and noticed a vent cover missing a few screws, though there was no Barton to be seen. Turning back, he reached for the dart and, remembering what Darcy said, turned it over. There, written in the middle of the suction cup was, 'Go for it!' He was confused at first, before his eyes searched out the woman down the hall, whistling to herself, and he realized Clint, moving through the air vents, was telling him to make a move.
Taking a deep breath, gathering his courage, Steve straightened his shoulders, and called out to Darcy as he hurried after her, "So what's playing at the drive-in this weekend?"
She stopped to let him catch up and her answering smile made his gut clench in a good way. He swallowed as he recognized a twinkle in her eye that told him she'd be keeping him on his toes for a good long time.
He wasn't complaining.