mini nanowrimo, word count 478, progression toward a final draft
so, this is the beginning to my Steve Rogers/Darcy Lewis/Bruce Banner side fic from The Huntress series. It's basically Darcy's story to start with but I have already kind of outlined each of the other two as side along pieces... because I'm a masochist.
Title: progression toward a final draft
Author: thegirlthatisclumsy/clumsygyrl
Fandom: Avengers (2012), Thor (2010), Iron Man I & II, Marvel Movie Universe
Pairings: Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers/Bruce Banner, Clint Barton/Phil Coulson (always a girl!Clint)
Summary:
Notes: Part of the Huntress series. This is the story of Darcy, Steve, and Bruce. Titles of chapters are all related to the story of Pinocchio. Explanation in story end notes.
Chapter 1: Brave
On May 12, 2011, Darcy Anne Lewis was granted a Bachelor of Arts Degree in Political Science from Culver University. The sun was bright and the air held the faintest hint of salt and sea water. Willowdale was breaking its way from spring into summer and was showing the first blushes of heat to come. Darcy Anne Lewis had family and friends flying in from the opposite coast and from the sun baked deserts of the southwest United States.
There was no diploma in the holder, but there would be in a few weeks time.
Her mother wore a cotton sundress with big white flowers and a large gardenia in her hair. Her father consented to wear a tie and fiddled with the settings on his camera. “Not going to miss our baby girl walking across that stage.” Her grandmother muttered half in Russian and English while her grandfather answered back in a heavily accented dialogue of English sprinkled with Italian. She had two cousins who had travelled up from Florida and held up a sign with Darcy's childhood nickname on it in big glittery letters.
They were there cheering as her name was called.
Darcy Anne Lewis, however, dean's list honoree and member of Mu Phi Epsilon (she minored in voice and it was a sorority her mother had been in when she went to school in Cincinnati), was not walking across the dais to receive her empty diploma holder.
Darcy Lewis, new graduate and former intern for an astrophysicist who brought a god down to Earth on a rainbow bridge, was tied to a chair with a dead man at her feet and an alien bracelet strapped to her wrist.
“Huh. Well, damn.”
This was not where the story began.
+
The story began almost two decades before. Grandmother Lorenzini (nee Rasskazchik) sat Darcy in her lap and told her the story of a dashing young Italian soldier who came with the American forces free a camp of Russian Jews from a place that Darcy could not pronounce. Her grandmother showed her the tattoo on her skin and Darcy remembered kissing it and the powdery smell of her grandmother's perfume.
Her grandfather, Poppa Carlo, found them asleep on the loveseat in the living room.
Darcy spent the rest of the afternoon asking her Poppa why Babulya looked so sad when she talked about camp. Darcy thought camps were supposed to be fun. Her friend Caroline talked about camp and the swimming and the popsicle stick birdhouses that Caroline's older sisters got to do there and it sounded fun.
“Does Babulya not like popsicles or birdhouses, Poppa?” Darcy asked when Poppa braided her hair. She was playing with his Captain America cards and she picked up her favorite one. It was the one with Captain America with the Howling Commandos and there was a flag behind them. She knew there were thirteen stripes, but she always forgot how many stars there were supposed to be.
“Ah, Dolcetto Mio,” Poppa said against the top of her head. His bushy mustache tickled her scalp and she giggled. “Long, long ago before you were born. Bad men came and they took people to these places. And they hurt them. They hurt your grandmother and they hurt her family. I went with other soldiers to help them come away from the bad men. So, this camp your Babulya, is not the same one as Caroline's sisters', yes?”
Darcy's face squinched up in thought then she nodded. “But you saved Babulya and you fell in love and she followed you to San Miniato and you kissed her under the moonlight and then you got to come here to America and had Mama and Auntie Maria and Auntie Antonina and Uncle Alexander?”
“Si, Dolcetto,” Poppa said with a proud little smile.
“Then Mama met Papa and then they had me,” Darcy said holding the card up to the window. The sunlight streamed in and haloed the card, framing it in light and dark. She squinted and she saw the white star on the Captain's chest stand out.
“Si,” Poppa said and lifted her up, his arms still strong and safe and Darcy squealed.
She remembered, years later when she was older and her hair wasn't in braids any longer, that that was how her grandmother found them. She held up high but safe in her grandfather's arms and laughter filling the room.
She also remembered a handful of years later reading about the name of the camp where her grandmother was held and how people were forced to walk to their death, the experiments, and the pictures of the bodies of the dead. She thought to herself how strong her grandmother was to have survived.
+
Darya Theresa Rasskazchik Lorenzini met Cyrus Llwelyn Lewis while she was majoring in piano and History at the University of Cinncinati. He was half hippy half activist and had a set of dimples that she could and would not resist. Surprisingly her parents loved Cyrus even with the long hair.
She believed it was when she told them the story of how Cy would always bring her the tea with the right blend of oolong, keemun, and lapsang souchong that reminded her of afternoons at their home. Whenever she asked where he found it, he would just kiss the tip of her nose and shrug.
“I have a friend who knows a guy.”
They were married a month after their graduation. Cyrus finished out a degree in math and Darya beamed when her parents just shook their heads as he streaked across the stage in nothing but his cap and tassel.
Her parents had survived worse than a soon to be son-in-law who sometimes forgot clothes.
+
Darcy came into the world with barely a sound. Both her parents thought there was something wrong at first, but when she gave her first deep breath and squeaky sound of protest they knew she was going to be fine.
Darcy was no longer quiet, but she was fine most days.
And when she was not, she remembered that she was the product of her parents as much as her name was two parts of theirs.
+
Her eyes were too large.
Her lips were too big.
Her curves were too lush.
Her breasts were too bountiful.
Her nose was too prominent.
Her words were too mean.
Her sense of humor was too weird.
Her punches were too hard.
She acted too smart.
Darcy tilted her head and smiled at the list. She bared her teeth, braces gleaming in the lights of Willard Middle School's hall, and she stepped around the boy who she thought she would be together forever with. Her notebook was scrawled with his name and hers. “You are an imbecile.”
“Yeah? Well, you're ugly. I'm asking Bethany Houston to the dance.”
Darcy punched his arm and walked away. She was too damn smart for him anyway.
She may have been all the things he'd yelled at her for, but she knew that all of stuff that was too much for him could be just right for someone else.
Plus, he was the moron who got “imbecile” wrong on their SAT word prep last week. She was more than a little sure that she could do better than that.
+
Darcy spent high school in a whirl of semi-adolescent rebellion and skating by on sarcasm and good grades. She applied to schools far away from her family in California to make her feel like an adult. She wanted to go to Boston or Connecticut or New York or somewhere that didn't feel like home. She loved her family,she did, but she needed out and away and anywhere that wasn't something that was safe or familiar.
Darcy thought that made her kind of a grown up.
She thought it made her brave.
Her mother cried when they stood at the curb in front of her dorms. Virginia was still warm in the afternoon whilst she knew back home, the shadows on Shattuck and Telegraph would be bringing cold and rain soon. Her mother hugged her tight, muttering things into her hair in Russian and an accent-free English. There was even a small blessing in Italian. Her father wrapped her up in an even tighter hug and pressed a keychain with a tube of pepper spray attached to it that weighed more than all her keys.
“Ah, Dolcetto Mio, no longer so little,” Poppa said kissing both her cheeks. His hair had gone completely white and gray now and she rubbed her wet cheeks against his sweater. Babulya was still not talking to her for moving so far away.
“Not so little, but still your little one, Poppa,” Darcy did not sniffle too loudly. Poppa smiled and he kissed her forehead.
“Your Babulya sends her love even if she is angry. You know she does not like having her loved ones so far from her eyes,” Poppa slipped something into her coat pocket and she hugged him again. “You will write her, yes? She will like that.”
“Si,” Darcy said with a wobbly smile.
“Bene,” Poppa said and Darcy watched her family pile into the rental car and drive away.
She waited till the tailights were just little red and yellow smears in the horizon before she put her hand into her pocket. She giggled, holding the device up to the dying afternoon light.
To my sweet little one,
Something to keep you safe.
Love, Poppa
The spark and buzz from the taser made her laugh. She slipped back into her pocket and patted it with a smile. She named the taser Sparky and used it twice before she even thought of deserts and internships in Arizona.
+
Arizona was so different from Virginia. It was even more alien than Berkeley, in all its weird glory. The earth didn't seem to want anything to grow and it was hard and harsh. It was unforgiving and mean and selfishly sucked even the moisture from the air at its worst.
Darcy thought it was beautiful.
She thought Puente Antigua was a weird mash up of all the things she loved about Arizona, Virginia, and even home. Izzy's reminded her of the homey diner she'd found just on the outskirts of town ten minutes outside of what Culver claimed. The library was this oddly shaped building with cut off rooms and shelves that looked older than even her grandparents. The smell of paper and ink and sunshine reminded her of the rooms in her Babulya's house. All around Puente were the signs of desert and fire and sun scorched earth, baked hard from heat and traveling feet.
It was a mish mash of things that Darcy loved and while she was bored out of her skull most days, even with running after Jane to shove food or drink down her throat, she found herself breathing easier just sitting on the roof and looking up at the rolling velvet of star scattered sky.
+
“So, we're all made of stars,” Jane said tipping the tequila bottle into her coffee mug. It was, at the moment, empty of coffee but full of tequila.
Darcy nodded and she licked the salt from her lips and reached for the remains of a sort of chewed up lime wedge. “Sing it, Moby.”
“What?”
Darcy giggled and she snatched Jane's mug like a stealing person. She wasn't morally bankrupt, but Jane had slower reflexes than she did and Darcy was thirsty. So thirsty. “It's the desert you know.”
“Sand and stars. Glittery like diamonds. Like glass,” Jane flopped back on the sagging plastic weave of the lawn chair. Erik was snoring loudly from the more dilapidated twin. Darcy made do with the pallet of rescued blankets and sleeping bags from the van. “Glass is made up of pressed glass and fire.”
“Fire in the sky,” Darcy hummed and she passed the mug back to Jane. She was generous like that.
“You are generous,” Jane whispered loudly and she hiccuped.
Erik farted loudly and both of them looked at each other and laughed till Jane fell off the chaise.
Darcy rolled flat onto her back to look up at the dark night sky wondering just where she fit and if she was travelling right.
“Wish there was a map,” Jane said and dropped her bottle and mug onto the gravel.
Darcy nodded. She wished there was too. Jane was pretty smart that way.
+
Sparky had made a friend.
It wasn't Darcy's fault that a thunder god wouldn't appreciate the overture.
It wasn't Sparky's fault either.
+
Darcy had watched the chaos around her, blinking a little at not exactly knowing what was going on. They were taking all their stuff. All of it was going into big black vans, and guys with army boots not worn for a faux ironic fashion statement were lugging out Jane's computers and her personal belongings.
“I'm pretty sure that there aren't gateways hidden to unknown universes hidden in my 'Not Ironic 80s Power Ballads' playlist,” Darcy muttered.
The agent who hefted up a box into ridiculously fit arms grinned at her. It was two parts smart ass and one part sympathy.
“Sorry, kid. Orders are orders.” Then she leaned in and whispered not so quietly; “But they did hide an entire galaxy in a kitty cat's necklace in Men In Black.”
Darcy couldn't even stop the snort of laughter. “As long as you don't do the flashy thing to me, I guess I can forgive you, Frau Farbissina.”
“Aw, kid. You're totally screwing up all those movie analogies.” The agent slipped her sunglasses on and surprisingly blew her a kiss.
Darcy would have found it kind of cute, if the agent weren't walking away with her office supplies and her Ipod. Even if the chick had a great ass and amazing arms.
+
Darcy barely managed to flirt with the swishy friend of Thor's before he was gone. Before they all took the rainbow bridge back to Nevernever Land.
'Hey Poppa, your little grandbaby was in an intergalactic conflict and all she got to do was run away and toss witty repartee. Sparky only got to taze the hero. Lame.' This was totally what Darcy would have left up on her Poppa's facebook wall, but she was already imagining what kind of non disclosure shut your mouth contract and gag orders they were going to have to sign in order not to end up in some government hidey hole for the next two forevers.
Erik looked over at Darcy and raised an eyebrow. Darcy sighed and nodded, waving a hand.
“C'mon, Jane. I have a friend you have made acquaintances with before. His name is Jose and he will be kind to you in your hour of need,” Darcy said, wrapping an arm around her.
Jane gave her a weak smile and leaned her head against Darcy's shoulder. “It's always the big adorable lunkheads that kind of rip my heart open.”
“Oh sweetie, don't feel bad. Falling for Thor is like people seeing cute puppies. The love is inevitable, but look at it this way. At least when you get some alien prince booty, you won't be breaking indecency laws. Bestiality is totally frowned upon in all cultures,” Darcy frowned. “Though I did google that his brother may have given birth to a horse at some point.”
“Darcy!” Erik looked at her with a frown then glanced back up at the sky.
Jane made a face. Darcy nodded. “Best not to think about it. You know what's good for that?”
“Jose?” Jane answered solemnly.
“Genius, you are,” Darcy said and steered them all toward the van.
+
Life post-God of Thunder and long interrogation from shady government agencies was a little bewildering in its normalcy. Darcy pushed back her glasses and wrinkled her nose at the smell in the library. She was pretty sure that it wasn't supposed to smell like rotten eggs. She tucked her face into the edge of her Culver University sweatshirt and stood up to investigate. She gave a brief thought about Jamie Lee Curtis and machete wielding maniacs, then shrugged and palmed Sparky and set off toward Autobiographies.
The library was quiet on the weekends when the weather was nice. Darcy found settling back into the life of a student after finding out that aliens did exist and they had some pretty bad ass killer robots was easier when she focused on more Earth bound things that could kill and maim her. Psycho machete wielding hockey mask wearing killers she could deal with and understand. Alien royalty with issues about fighting other aliens was not really her balliwick.
The man, Darcy assumed it was a man as it was man shaped, was hunched over a stack of books. Darcy had trouble distinguishing if it was a Earth man or alien. She was leaning toward alien. It was that fact and that alone that had her saying, “Oh, wow. You're kind of neon blue.”
The man alien whipped around and focused his eyes on Darcy. She gripped Sparky tighter. “Uh, I come in peace?” She threw up the Vulcan gang sign for hello, or what she hoped it was and smiled. It took less muscles to smile than frown and she kind of hoped that smiling was cross-universal. “Do you need help? And by help, I mean, something easy, like finding a book and not world domination of our puny planet?”
The man tilted his head and opened his mouth.
“Whoa, even your tongue is blue.”
The man snapped his mouth shut and snorted at her. He reminded her strongly of a certain jack booted thug in expensive suits. How Clint put up with that hardass as her boss was beyond Darcy. “You are... human?”
Darcy nodded and held out her hand. “Darcy Lewis, if you mean to kill me I should warn you that I am friends with a thunder god. Mostly friends. He's banging my friend. Or will be once she figures out how fix their commuting problem.”
10058 / 18000
(55.88%)
Title: progression toward a final draft
Author: thegirlthatisclumsy/clumsygyrl
Fandom: Avengers (2012), Thor (2010), Iron Man I & II, Marvel Movie Universe
Pairings: Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers/Bruce Banner, Clint Barton/Phil Coulson (always a girl!Clint)
Summary:
Notes: Part of the Huntress series. This is the story of Darcy, Steve, and Bruce. Titles of chapters are all related to the story of Pinocchio. Explanation in story end notes.
Chapter 1: Brave
On May 12, 2011, Darcy Anne Lewis was granted a Bachelor of Arts Degree in Political Science from Culver University. The sun was bright and the air held the faintest hint of salt and sea water. Willowdale was breaking its way from spring into summer and was showing the first blushes of heat to come. Darcy Anne Lewis had family and friends flying in from the opposite coast and from the sun baked deserts of the southwest United States.
There was no diploma in the holder, but there would be in a few weeks time.
Her mother wore a cotton sundress with big white flowers and a large gardenia in her hair. Her father consented to wear a tie and fiddled with the settings on his camera. “Not going to miss our baby girl walking across that stage.” Her grandmother muttered half in Russian and English while her grandfather answered back in a heavily accented dialogue of English sprinkled with Italian. She had two cousins who had travelled up from Florida and held up a sign with Darcy's childhood nickname on it in big glittery letters.
They were there cheering as her name was called.
Darcy Anne Lewis, however, dean's list honoree and member of Mu Phi Epsilon (she minored in voice and it was a sorority her mother had been in when she went to school in Cincinnati), was not walking across the dais to receive her empty diploma holder.
Darcy Lewis, new graduate and former intern for an astrophysicist who brought a god down to Earth on a rainbow bridge, was tied to a chair with a dead man at her feet and an alien bracelet strapped to her wrist.
“Huh. Well, damn.”
This was not where the story began.
+
The story began almost two decades before. Grandmother Lorenzini (nee Rasskazchik) sat Darcy in her lap and told her the story of a dashing young Italian soldier who came with the American forces free a camp of Russian Jews from a place that Darcy could not pronounce. Her grandmother showed her the tattoo on her skin and Darcy remembered kissing it and the powdery smell of her grandmother's perfume.
Her grandfather, Poppa Carlo, found them asleep on the loveseat in the living room.
Darcy spent the rest of the afternoon asking her Poppa why Babulya looked so sad when she talked about camp. Darcy thought camps were supposed to be fun. Her friend Caroline talked about camp and the swimming and the popsicle stick birdhouses that Caroline's older sisters got to do there and it sounded fun.
“Does Babulya not like popsicles or birdhouses, Poppa?” Darcy asked when Poppa braided her hair. She was playing with his Captain America cards and she picked up her favorite one. It was the one with Captain America with the Howling Commandos and there was a flag behind them. She knew there were thirteen stripes, but she always forgot how many stars there were supposed to be.
“Ah, Dolcetto Mio,” Poppa said against the top of her head. His bushy mustache tickled her scalp and she giggled. “Long, long ago before you were born. Bad men came and they took people to these places. And they hurt them. They hurt your grandmother and they hurt her family. I went with other soldiers to help them come away from the bad men. So, this camp your Babulya, is not the same one as Caroline's sisters', yes?”
Darcy's face squinched up in thought then she nodded. “But you saved Babulya and you fell in love and she followed you to San Miniato and you kissed her under the moonlight and then you got to come here to America and had Mama and Auntie Maria and Auntie Antonina and Uncle Alexander?”
“Si, Dolcetto,” Poppa said with a proud little smile.
“Then Mama met Papa and then they had me,” Darcy said holding the card up to the window. The sunlight streamed in and haloed the card, framing it in light and dark. She squinted and she saw the white star on the Captain's chest stand out.
“Si,” Poppa said and lifted her up, his arms still strong and safe and Darcy squealed.
She remembered, years later when she was older and her hair wasn't in braids any longer, that that was how her grandmother found them. She held up high but safe in her grandfather's arms and laughter filling the room.
She also remembered a handful of years later reading about the name of the camp where her grandmother was held and how people were forced to walk to their death, the experiments, and the pictures of the bodies of the dead. She thought to herself how strong her grandmother was to have survived.
+
Darya Theresa Rasskazchik Lorenzini met Cyrus Llwelyn Lewis while she was majoring in piano and History at the University of Cinncinati. He was half hippy half activist and had a set of dimples that she could and would not resist. Surprisingly her parents loved Cyrus even with the long hair.
She believed it was when she told them the story of how Cy would always bring her the tea with the right blend of oolong, keemun, and lapsang souchong that reminded her of afternoons at their home. Whenever she asked where he found it, he would just kiss the tip of her nose and shrug.
“I have a friend who knows a guy.”
They were married a month after their graduation. Cyrus finished out a degree in math and Darya beamed when her parents just shook their heads as he streaked across the stage in nothing but his cap and tassel.
Her parents had survived worse than a soon to be son-in-law who sometimes forgot clothes.
+
Darcy came into the world with barely a sound. Both her parents thought there was something wrong at first, but when she gave her first deep breath and squeaky sound of protest they knew she was going to be fine.
Darcy was no longer quiet, but she was fine most days.
And when she was not, she remembered that she was the product of her parents as much as her name was two parts of theirs.
+
Her eyes were too large.
Her lips were too big.
Her curves were too lush.
Her breasts were too bountiful.
Her nose was too prominent.
Her words were too mean.
Her sense of humor was too weird.
Her punches were too hard.
She acted too smart.
Darcy tilted her head and smiled at the list. She bared her teeth, braces gleaming in the lights of Willard Middle School's hall, and she stepped around the boy who she thought she would be together forever with. Her notebook was scrawled with his name and hers. “You are an imbecile.”
“Yeah? Well, you're ugly. I'm asking Bethany Houston to the dance.”
Darcy punched his arm and walked away. She was too damn smart for him anyway.
She may have been all the things he'd yelled at her for, but she knew that all of stuff that was too much for him could be just right for someone else.
Plus, he was the moron who got “imbecile” wrong on their SAT word prep last week. She was more than a little sure that she could do better than that.
+
Darcy spent high school in a whirl of semi-adolescent rebellion and skating by on sarcasm and good grades. She applied to schools far away from her family in California to make her feel like an adult. She wanted to go to Boston or Connecticut or New York or somewhere that didn't feel like home. She loved her family,she did, but she needed out and away and anywhere that wasn't something that was safe or familiar.
Darcy thought that made her kind of a grown up.
She thought it made her brave.
Her mother cried when they stood at the curb in front of her dorms. Virginia was still warm in the afternoon whilst she knew back home, the shadows on Shattuck and Telegraph would be bringing cold and rain soon. Her mother hugged her tight, muttering things into her hair in Russian and an accent-free English. There was even a small blessing in Italian. Her father wrapped her up in an even tighter hug and pressed a keychain with a tube of pepper spray attached to it that weighed more than all her keys.
“Ah, Dolcetto Mio, no longer so little,” Poppa said kissing both her cheeks. His hair had gone completely white and gray now and she rubbed her wet cheeks against his sweater. Babulya was still not talking to her for moving so far away.
“Not so little, but still your little one, Poppa,” Darcy did not sniffle too loudly. Poppa smiled and he kissed her forehead.
“Your Babulya sends her love even if she is angry. You know she does not like having her loved ones so far from her eyes,” Poppa slipped something into her coat pocket and she hugged him again. “You will write her, yes? She will like that.”
“Si,” Darcy said with a wobbly smile.
“Bene,” Poppa said and Darcy watched her family pile into the rental car and drive away.
She waited till the tailights were just little red and yellow smears in the horizon before she put her hand into her pocket. She giggled, holding the device up to the dying afternoon light.
To my sweet little one,
Something to keep you safe.
Love, Poppa
The spark and buzz from the taser made her laugh. She slipped back into her pocket and patted it with a smile. She named the taser Sparky and used it twice before she even thought of deserts and internships in Arizona.
+
Arizona was so different from Virginia. It was even more alien than Berkeley, in all its weird glory. The earth didn't seem to want anything to grow and it was hard and harsh. It was unforgiving and mean and selfishly sucked even the moisture from the air at its worst.
Darcy thought it was beautiful.
She thought Puente Antigua was a weird mash up of all the things she loved about Arizona, Virginia, and even home. Izzy's reminded her of the homey diner she'd found just on the outskirts of town ten minutes outside of what Culver claimed. The library was this oddly shaped building with cut off rooms and shelves that looked older than even her grandparents. The smell of paper and ink and sunshine reminded her of the rooms in her Babulya's house. All around Puente were the signs of desert and fire and sun scorched earth, baked hard from heat and traveling feet.
It was a mish mash of things that Darcy loved and while she was bored out of her skull most days, even with running after Jane to shove food or drink down her throat, she found herself breathing easier just sitting on the roof and looking up at the rolling velvet of star scattered sky.
+
“So, we're all made of stars,” Jane said tipping the tequila bottle into her coffee mug. It was, at the moment, empty of coffee but full of tequila.
Darcy nodded and she licked the salt from her lips and reached for the remains of a sort of chewed up lime wedge. “Sing it, Moby.”
“What?”
Darcy giggled and she snatched Jane's mug like a stealing person. She wasn't morally bankrupt, but Jane had slower reflexes than she did and Darcy was thirsty. So thirsty. “It's the desert you know.”
“Sand and stars. Glittery like diamonds. Like glass,” Jane flopped back on the sagging plastic weave of the lawn chair. Erik was snoring loudly from the more dilapidated twin. Darcy made do with the pallet of rescued blankets and sleeping bags from the van. “Glass is made up of pressed glass and fire.”
“Fire in the sky,” Darcy hummed and she passed the mug back to Jane. She was generous like that.
“You are generous,” Jane whispered loudly and she hiccuped.
Erik farted loudly and both of them looked at each other and laughed till Jane fell off the chaise.
Darcy rolled flat onto her back to look up at the dark night sky wondering just where she fit and if she was travelling right.
“Wish there was a map,” Jane said and dropped her bottle and mug onto the gravel.
Darcy nodded. She wished there was too. Jane was pretty smart that way.
+
Sparky had made a friend.
It wasn't Darcy's fault that a thunder god wouldn't appreciate the overture.
It wasn't Sparky's fault either.
+
Darcy had watched the chaos around her, blinking a little at not exactly knowing what was going on. They were taking all their stuff. All of it was going into big black vans, and guys with army boots not worn for a faux ironic fashion statement were lugging out Jane's computers and her personal belongings.
“I'm pretty sure that there aren't gateways hidden to unknown universes hidden in my 'Not Ironic 80s Power Ballads' playlist,” Darcy muttered.
The agent who hefted up a box into ridiculously fit arms grinned at her. It was two parts smart ass and one part sympathy.
“Sorry, kid. Orders are orders.” Then she leaned in and whispered not so quietly; “But they did hide an entire galaxy in a kitty cat's necklace in Men In Black.”
Darcy couldn't even stop the snort of laughter. “As long as you don't do the flashy thing to me, I guess I can forgive you, Frau Farbissina.”
“Aw, kid. You're totally screwing up all those movie analogies.” The agent slipped her sunglasses on and surprisingly blew her a kiss.
Darcy would have found it kind of cute, if the agent weren't walking away with her office supplies and her Ipod. Even if the chick had a great ass and amazing arms.
+
Darcy barely managed to flirt with the swishy friend of Thor's before he was gone. Before they all took the rainbow bridge back to Nevernever Land.
'Hey Poppa, your little grandbaby was in an intergalactic conflict and all she got to do was run away and toss witty repartee. Sparky only got to taze the hero. Lame.' This was totally what Darcy would have left up on her Poppa's facebook wall, but she was already imagining what kind of non disclosure shut your mouth contract and gag orders they were going to have to sign in order not to end up in some government hidey hole for the next two forevers.
Erik looked over at Darcy and raised an eyebrow. Darcy sighed and nodded, waving a hand.
“C'mon, Jane. I have a friend you have made acquaintances with before. His name is Jose and he will be kind to you in your hour of need,” Darcy said, wrapping an arm around her.
Jane gave her a weak smile and leaned her head against Darcy's shoulder. “It's always the big adorable lunkheads that kind of rip my heart open.”
“Oh sweetie, don't feel bad. Falling for Thor is like people seeing cute puppies. The love is inevitable, but look at it this way. At least when you get some alien prince booty, you won't be breaking indecency laws. Bestiality is totally frowned upon in all cultures,” Darcy frowned. “Though I did google that his brother may have given birth to a horse at some point.”
“Darcy!” Erik looked at her with a frown then glanced back up at the sky.
Jane made a face. Darcy nodded. “Best not to think about it. You know what's good for that?”
“Jose?” Jane answered solemnly.
“Genius, you are,” Darcy said and steered them all toward the van.
+
Life post-God of Thunder and long interrogation from shady government agencies was a little bewildering in its normalcy. Darcy pushed back her glasses and wrinkled her nose at the smell in the library. She was pretty sure that it wasn't supposed to smell like rotten eggs. She tucked her face into the edge of her Culver University sweatshirt and stood up to investigate. She gave a brief thought about Jamie Lee Curtis and machete wielding maniacs, then shrugged and palmed Sparky and set off toward Autobiographies.
The library was quiet on the weekends when the weather was nice. Darcy found settling back into the life of a student after finding out that aliens did exist and they had some pretty bad ass killer robots was easier when she focused on more Earth bound things that could kill and maim her. Psycho machete wielding hockey mask wearing killers she could deal with and understand. Alien royalty with issues about fighting other aliens was not really her balliwick.
The man, Darcy assumed it was a man as it was man shaped, was hunched over a stack of books. Darcy had trouble distinguishing if it was a Earth man or alien. She was leaning toward alien. It was that fact and that alone that had her saying, “Oh, wow. You're kind of neon blue.”
The man alien whipped around and focused his eyes on Darcy. She gripped Sparky tighter. “Uh, I come in peace?” She threw up the Vulcan gang sign for hello, or what she hoped it was and smiled. It took less muscles to smile than frown and she kind of hoped that smiling was cross-universal. “Do you need help? And by help, I mean, something easy, like finding a book and not world domination of our puny planet?”
The man tilted his head and opened his mouth.
“Whoa, even your tongue is blue.”
The man snapped his mouth shut and snorted at her. He reminded her strongly of a certain jack booted thug in expensive suits. How Clint put up with that hardass as her boss was beyond Darcy. “You are... human?”
Darcy nodded and held out her hand. “Darcy Lewis, if you mean to kill me I should warn you that I am friends with a thunder god. Mostly friends. He's banging my friend. Or will be once she figures out how fix their commuting problem.”
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