FIC! Five Things Darcy Loves About Working for SHEILD, 2/6

[teand]

still Darcy/Steve
this part still teen
this part 5,889 words

chapter one



2. If I Can Make it Here

There were seven probationary agents in Darcy's training group. All of them recent graduates, none of them with any kind of SHIELD relevant job experience. Logically, given the hit they'd taken during the Chitauri invasion - the Avengers may have gotten the most of the press but Darcy'd checked thousands of YouTube videos and seen the men and women fighting and falling in the background - they had to be recruiting from the armed forces and police forces and poaching from other agencies. Those recruits were obviously part of a different training program.

Her group, Darcy figured, might have more to learn but they had less to unlearn as well.

Three were the kind of jocks who considered brain and body a well oiled machine. Varsity sports and a solid 4 point GPA, picked their majors as freshmen, never deviated. Two of them had degrees in World History, one in Criminal Psychology - Lori had been heading for the FBI when SHIELD made her a better offer. They were ambitious, driven, and a little OCD in Darcy's opinion.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Lori muttered when Darcy had explained that she considered her body more as one of those big lush Indian temples set up for a Bollywood dance number rather than a thousand steps up to a blood-stained altar.

Darcy sighed and patted her on the arm. "I know."

The other three were of the brain the size of a planet, PhDs at twenty-one, easily distracted by shiny ideas type. Kevin was skinny and twitchy and reminded Darcy of Jane. Except for the sideburns. His sideburns. Not Jane's. During their brief moments of downtime, all three of the geeks bitched and complained about doing the physical training while the jocks complained about the geeks.

Darcy was fairly impressed she'd held her tongue for two whole days. Fine. Nearly two days. Okay, a day and a half. Or just under.

"You want to play with the cool toys?" she snapped as a geek whined about the morning's gym time. "This is the only way to the labs, so suck it up. And you..." She spun on one heel and cut off an impending supercilious comment. "...if you lot want to go out in the field without your secret agent combination decoder ring and personal body shield, just keep talking smack because these geeks, these are the geeks who'll be developing that."

"Not possible," Kevin began.

"Shut it," Darcy told him. "Just because you're smarter than everyone around you does not make you smarter than everyone around you."

"That's..."

"Hands up everyone who didn't get lost coming in the subway this morning."

Kevin glared down at his fish taco.

Darcy glanced around the group and nodded. "Better. Also, while we're at it, I'm going to use my headphone chord to strangle the next person who sings anything by Justin Beiber while on the treadmill next to mine."

Five heads nodded while Darrell, the largest of the jocks, who'd been an all star college running back - which Darcy knew meant football, she'd gone to university in the United States for crying out loud she'd just been yanking his chain - flushed. Then Hannah, one of the geeks, came in on Darrell's side. Lori made a comment about classic rock, Kevin complained that modern country might as well be classic rock and the group divided into country/not country both sides equally jock and geek.

And we have soothed savage breasts, Darcy thought with satisfaction as, still arguing, the group cleaned up the debris of their lunch and headed toward an hour of international situations - which was international politics as seen through the lens of a not as secret as they used to be, ass-kicking government organization.

"A moment Probationary Agent Lewis."

Darcy turned to see a senior agent - they were stupidly easy to spot; just watch the reaction of the junior agents - crossing the cafeteria toward her. She waved the others on, and waited by the bins.

"I couldn't help but notice what you did," he said when he was close enough for private conversation.

"I sorted my recycling?"

He grinned and adjusted his glasses. "Before that. You deliberately defused the tension in your training group. Now given that we're barely halfway through day two, I'm wondering why you bothered. All right, not bothered exactly," he amended before she could get the protest out. "As the attempt could have blown up in your face, uniting them all against you, I'm wondering why you didn't give it a little more time to work itself out naturally."

"You're kidding me, right, Agent...?"

"Sitwell. And no, I'm not kidding."

Darcy rolled her eyes. "Then you're clearly not aware that this afternoon, they're giving us guns."

Three nights later she came home to find Steve halfway into the building, his helmet strap caught over the door handle, his big, square portfolio/backpack jammed sideways, and his arms full of struggling orange cat.

"I've got it." She tugged him back half a step and freed the strap which allowed him to turn enough to free the portfolio. Once they were all inside, with the door closed, Sam stopped struggling and Steve sighed in relief. Darcy noted the circles under his eyes, the smug of dirt across his cheek, and the way his hair lay matted against his forehead. "You look like work's been kicking your..." She searched for a compromise between words she couldn't say to man who wore checked shirts tucked into ironed khakis and words she couldn't say without feeling like a nursery school teacher. Ass was out. Bottom was out. "...butt."

Steve suddenly became very interested in the top of Sam's head. "It's not... work. It's the rebuilding. Although I suppose," he added, as much to himself as to her, "that's also work."

"Well, with me, it's definitely work."

He took a good look at her then. "Looks like it's been kicking your butt."

She managed a snicker, too tired to actually laugh. "Tell me about it. And strictly speaking, I'm not even working yet."

"Training?"

"Not quite. More like being assessed in order to be trained."

He didn't ask any more about her job and she didn't ask anything about his and they talked about cats they'd grown up with until they reached the fourth floor and Steve handed Sam over to Sylvia who grunted her thanks and closed her door before the Jeopardy theme deafened them both.

"Hey."

Steve paused, one step down, hand on the bannister.

"You look too tired too cook and I know I'm too tired to cook and I was just going to order Chinese food and it's just as easy to order enough for two, right? So..." She sagged against the wall and let her backpack slide off her shoulder. "...you want to eat takeout Chinese together?"

"Your place or mine?" He flushed scarlet the moment he said it and Darcy let out a cackle of laughter.

"Dude, I am way too tired to be that kind of a girl. Do you have an actual living room?"

"Uh... yes?"

"Good. Your place because I have a sofa bed that's been a bed for the last three days and I don't want to fold it up because that'll just delay me falling into it later. Also..." She frowned at her sleeve. "...why didn't you tell me I had my sweater on inside out?"

"I didn't..."

"Notice? Men. You go and kick the underwear that's lying on the floor in the middle of your living room into the bedroom and I'll be down as soon as I get out of my costume. You don't honestly think I dress like this out of choice," she added when his brows rose. "Go. I'll bring my already amazing collection of takeout menus down with me."

As Steve disappeared down the stairs and Darcy dug out her key, the door across the hall opened far enough for Mark to lean out and give her an enthusiastic thumbs up. "You go, girl. I'd have tapped that in a minute if he drove stick."

"Were you listening..."

"Absolutely." He grinned, and closed the door.

"I am totally rocking my kooky neighbours bingo card," she muttered.

Steve's apartment didn't so much look neat as unlived in, the furniture and walls the same beige as her place but without the mess that gave her bland a personality. The only thing that hinted at habitation was the huge drawing table by the big front window, a charcoal sketch of the park across the street laid out on it, the edges of the table and the floor around it piled high with every possible type art supply - most of them unopened, Darcy noted. A second portfolio, significantly less chunky than the one he usually carried leaned against the wall.

On another night, when she didn't feel like crap on a cracker, she'd ask to see his etchings.

He'd clearly grabbed a quick shower and while she appreciated the way his white t-shirt clung to damp skin - because she wasn't dead - she was too tired and hungry to appreciate it much. When he raised both brows at the tumbled mess of her hair, her faded sweats, and hand-knit, over-sized, multi-yarn sweater she'd bought to fight the chill of the New Mexico desert, she handed him the stack of menus and said, "I'm trusting you with my secret identity."

He looked startled, then he laughed. "Dishevelled Girl?"

"Captain Eclectic." Darcy dropped onto his couch and closed her eyes. "If you order from Mr. Po under my name, we'll get extra egg rolls."

"You've only lived in Brooklyn for five days."

She cracked an eye, peering over the edge of her glasses. "Do I look like I cook?

Steve was in the kitchen making green tea when the food arrived. Darcy paid for it and got the door closed before he managed to get his wallet out.

"Here." He held out a twenty and a ten. "I should..."

"Seriously," she cut the protest short, "this isn't a date and when you eat with a friend, you split the bill. You can pay for half."

He looked a little startled, smiled in a way that made Darcy want to kick the ass of whoever had hurt him that badly, took a deep breath, and finally said, "But I'll be eating twice as much."

"Good point." Dracy plucked the twenty from his fingers. "Now let's eat before the lo mein congeals."

"That would be bad?"

"Dude, you have no idea."

When the food was gone and Darcy had to chose between falling asleep on Steve's couch or going home, she reluctantly heaved herself up onto her feet. "Sorry about the lack of dinner conversation." They'd talked a little about the food but most ate in companionable silence. "We should do this again sometime."

He stood as well, caught his chopsticks as they tumbled off his lap, and set them with the debris on the coffee table. "I'm not home much..."

Darcy swept a hand around at the lack of decorating. "I can tell."

"No, I mean, I just... I don't always know when I'm going to be here. I sometimes stay with a friend in Manhattan and..."

"Dude." Darcy held up a hand, wondering why she felt so disappointed. Like she'd said, this wasn't a date, it was just making a friend. "I get it. Romance before bromance. Although, I'm not a bro so this can't be..."

"No. It's not romance. It's just convenient. And..." He ducked his head and when he glanced up at her, the sad was back. "...I don't have many friends. I wanted to live... I wanted a life." He made a noise that was probably supposed to be a laugh and Darcy's heart hurt. "It's just sometimes, coming back here, it's not... I mean, it's..."

"Not how you remembered it?" When his brows rose, she added, "You told me you used to live here and you moved back. You probably look for things you used to know when you were a kid and when they're not there, you feel like you've been left behind, right? Tell you what," she continued before he could answer - not that he needed to, his expression gave everything away - "no pressure but I'd be willing to help you make new memories. I don't exactly have a lot of friends here myself."

"Yet." There was less sad in this smile so Darcy counted it a win.

"Yet," she acknowledged. She'd never had any trouble making friends. "But you can be my first. And I can be part of your Brooklyn reboot."

"Darcy..."

She waited, acknowledging that it wasn't so much patience on her part as continuing exhaustion.

Finally he smiled. "I'd like that."

And then, of course, they didn't see each other for the next four days. Not in the hall, not in the coffee shop across the street, not during Sam's daily escape attempts, not even on the last day of week one when Darcy's training group was sent out to help with the ongoing rebuilding of Manhattan.

"It's a waste of our talents," Kevin whined.

"Well, yeah, because bitching and complaining's going to be a lot of help." Darcy rolled her eyes. "It's exposure to consequences. They want us to realize that this is what joining SHIELD means."

"Grunt work." For the first in five days, Lori agreed with Kevin.

"That too but..." Giant robots that shot fire and an old man who told funny stories about rodeos who didn't get out of the way in time.

"But what, Probationary Agent Lewis?" The ice and steel in the voice pulled Darcy around as much as the question. Assistant Director Hill stood by the door in jeans and a sweat stained t-shirt, holding a pair of heavy leather work gloves in one hand, clearly just heading off a clean-up detail. "What is it that we want you to realize about SHIELD when we send you out to move pieces of broken concrete."

"That we won't be able to save everyone." Someone behind her muttered, oh give me a break, and Hill's brows rose. Darcy felt her cheeks go hot, it hadn't sounded quite so Hallmark card in her head, but she lifted her chin and met the assistant director's gaze.

After a long moment, Hill snorted and said, "Don't you lot have somewhere to be?"

Darcy looked for Steve among the civilian crews - because hey, such a hardship staring at sweaty, muscular men - but didn't spot him.

She spent the weekend doing laundry, sleeping, and watching the Avengers destroy several squidish looking things that had climbed out of the Upper Bay and attacked Liberty Island - for no good reason that Darcy could see. The colour commentator seemed convinced they were innocent watery bystanders mutated by alien debris still in the bay and confused by their sudden ability to breathe air and rip police boats in half.

While Hawkeye and the Black Widow rescued the police officers in the water, Hulk and Ironman played squidish skeet - Ironman would yell PULL and Hulk would toss a squidish in the air to be blown apart by repulsor beams. Meanwhile Captain OMG-his-ass-in-those-tights America was using his shield to slice and dice. Since no one had gotten hurt - everyone on the island had time to get into the statue and everyone from the boat had been accounted for - it was remarkably satisfying television. Darcy made popcorn.

During her second week, random testing began.

Pop quizzes; any time, any place.

"What was the significance of the September '06 accord with the Chechen rebels?"

Swinging upside down in a harness beside a really stupidly tall climbing wall, Darcy rolled her eyes toward the speaker in the ceiling. "Seriously?"

Random projectiles.

"There's a nerf grenade in my soup."

"If it was a real grenade, you'd be dead," Kevin pointed out.

"If it was a real grenade, we'd all be dead," Darcy growled. "The soup is tomato. This blouse is silk. I find out who threw that thing, and they're meat! OW!"

"Nerf arrow," Lori said helpfully.

"Shut up!"

More pop quizzes.

"The hostile you're tailing has made your position. How do complete your objective?"

T-shirt half off, Darcy leaned forward until her forehead hit the locker door. "Seriously?"

More random projectiles.

"A sticker on the face is not a random projectile!"

"Were you expecting it?" the unknown agent asked.

"No!" It wasn't peeling off either.

"Seems random to me. You can't turn so trustingly when you hear a noise behind you."

And still more pop quizzes.

"The hostage has been freed, but you've been hit twice and there's three hostiles remaining. What do you do?"

Darcy tucked in her shirt and zipped up her trousers. "I ask if their organization has a problem with people peeing in private," she snarled as the toilet flushed.

She'd started jerking awake, anticipating stupid questions or something suddenly in her space. Not that there was much time to sleep given that her group was suddenly required at SHIELD from six to nine and it took her almost an hour to get there. She saw Steve heading out on his run but didn't have time to more than wave before she had to race for the subway.

By Friday, she was severely over-caffeinated and twitchy bordering on homicidal. Hurrying down the hall toward Agent Sitwell and her training group - the last one to arrive - she heard a quiet thump behind her. Teeth clenched, she spun around, flexed her shoulders back, popped the top four buttons on her blouse, and kicked the grinning agent reaching out with a sticker right in the nuts.

He whimpered and dropped.

Fully aware that if she even thought of following through, she'd get her clock cleaned, Darcy backed off a careful distance until he caught his breath. At that, she was still significantly closer than everyone else in the hall - junior and senior, they'd scrambled back as though the downed agent kept live grenades in his pants.

Actually, this was SHIELD. That was possible.

"You okay?" she asked after a moment.

He squinted up at her, curled around his crotch. "You kicked me in the nuts."

"You said I was too trusting when people snuck up behind me."

He stared at her for a moment then shrugged. "Fair enough. Wouldn't have happened," he added, uncurling and wincing, "if your boobs hadn't distracted me."

Darcy snorted. "That's why I popped the buttons."

His brows rose. "You deliberately distracted me with your boobs?"

"It's what boobs are for." She refastened the last button and grinned at him. "Well, assuming you've been weaned."

He stared at her for another long moment then he started to laugh. Darcy knew she had to be imagining it, but it seemed like everyone watching started to breathe again. The agent wasn't really tall and his nose was a little big, but his arms were to die for and he laughed like he didn't laugh often enough. Like he was kind of surprised to be doing it now. Like he was letting go of something. When he finally pulled himself together, he said, "Clint."

It took her a moment. "Darcy."

"Darcy... Lewis?" When Clint smiled - a real smile, not the more pain than joy expression he'd worn when he laughed - he stopped being a moderately attractive man and brought the heat. "You're Dr. Foster's grad student. You tazed Thor."

"Graduated ex-grad student. And I did. But in fairness, Jane had already hit him with her car."

"Ah, the weird courting rituals of geeks and gods."

"Tell me about it." She leaned forward and held out her hand, fully aware that it gave him a direct line of sight down her cleavage. She had kicked him in the nuts.

His hand was warm and calloused and he clearly didn't her need help but he held on until he was standing, then reluctantly let go. "I am not going to enjoy filling out the form for this."

"No way there's a form for getting nailed in the nuts."

"Way. If I wasn't in a relationship..." His brows rose and fell salaciously. "...I'd show it to you."

She grinned. "Sweet talker."

As Clint headed off to find an ice pack...

"Because you kicked me in the nuts."

"Dude, seriously. Let it go."

...Darcy joined Agent Sitwell and her training group, still waiting at the end of the hall. "Sorry about the delay."

"You tazed Thor?" Lori's eyes were enormous.

"You know Dr. Jane Foster?" Kevin might've been drooling a bit.

"You just kicked Hawkeye in the crotch!"

That wasn't a question, so Darcy asked one. "I did?"

"Clint Barton. Hawkeye!"

"The Avenger?" Darcy sighed at the enthusiastic affirmative. "Well, let's hope the next set of alien invaders don't have boobs. Sir? Agent Sitwell? You okay?"

Coffee dribbling out his nose, Sitwell waved her off.

She actually got home at a decent hour that night and found Steve waiting outside her door.

He pushed himself off the wall as she arrived, glanced down at his hands, up at the light fixture, over at Mark, Rob, and Alan's door - where someone may or may not have been snickering - then finally at her. One thing Darcy had to say for Steve, when he looked at her, he looked her in the eyes. If she hadn't caught him sneaking glances at her breasts when he thought she wasn't looking, she'd have been worried, but as it was, the not gay box stayed ticked.

"I heard something at work today and... I mean..." He took a deep breath. "Do you want to go out for dinner. On a date. Not as friends. Where I pay."

What the hell had he heard at work, she wondered. Still he worked in the clean-up and rebuilding so it probably wasn't pleasant. She could be his distraction. How distracted did he want to be? "Sure. When?"

"It's Friday night so... I mean, traditionally. Uh...tonight?"

"Can I have a half an hour to clean up?"

"You will?"

"I will." It was cute he looked so surprised. She gave him a little shove toward the stairs, enjoying the warm curve of muscle under her hand. "Come back and get me in half an hour."

Steve had barely reached the stairs when the door across the hall opened and Rob leaned out to give her a quick thumbs up. Darcy closed her door before he could comment.

"He doesn't wear jeans outside his apartment," she murmured as she stripped. "Almost a full foot taller," she reminded herself in the shower. "Wants distraction," she pointed out to her reflection as she dried her hair.

Black jersey skirt, wrapped snug around her hips and ass. Over it, a black peasant blouse embroidered in red around the neckline in a way that drew the eye to the possibility of red lace beneath it. She'd bought it at a road side stand in New Mexico only to find that it had been made for Macy's. The cowboy boots - those were authentic.

Casual enough for a mom and pop diner. Dressy enough for uptown. Not a sure thing, but it all came off quick just in case.

His knock, when it came, was so once more into the breech it sounded like he'd had to draw himself up to attention before he managed it. Darcy liked the thought of him girding his loins for her. Even in his grandpa pants, they were very nice loins. She painted the new Iron Man Red over her mouth and flung open the door before he changed his mind and ran.

They ended up at a mom and pop diner.

"I hope you don't mind, I just..."

"Steve, do you see the sign in the window? Best meatloaf in New York." She grabbed his hand and tugged him through the door. Only an idiot would have missed the relief on his face. Darcy Lewis was no idiot. Plus, she really liked meatloaf.

He only recently gotten out of the military and he clearly didn't want to talk about it. So while they waited for their order, Darcy talked. She told him about Culver, about how her parents insurance money - invested by her grandmother and her Great Uncle Stan - had paid the tuition and for a crappy apartment off campus after three month of the dorms.

"During which time, I'm proud to say that, even with massive provocation, I didn't strangle anyone. Massive provocation mostly being blatant stupidity. I don't mind stupid people," she added before he could comment. "But smart people not using their brains really gets up my nose."

"Your nose must take a beating." He grinned.

She grinned back. "Totally."

Then his grin disappeared. "Your parents died?"

"Back when I was a baby. I have zero memory of them. Really." He was looking all soft and sad for her and she hated that. It was why she liked getting the dead parents out of the way early on. "Look, you can't miss what you never had."

His hand was warm and calloused and covered hers completely. "Yes, you can."

Then his hand was gone and Darcy took a deep breath because almost no one got the whole phantom pain thing and on the exhale told him about accidentally getting a part-time job in a car dealership and how she drove her advisor nuts by switching her major. A lot.

"It was just..." She started to sketch her frustration in the air, realized she was holding a forkful of mashed potatoes and gravy, and put the fork down. "...they kept saying you have to know where you're going and I was all I'd like a look at a few more destinations, please! You know?"

"I was in art school... before."

Darcy wanted to know why he stopped but what she said was, "You any good?"

Steve looked startled, like he'd been expecting the question she hadn't asked. "Actually, yeah. I am."

"Prove it."

"I don't have..."

When she made chicken noises at him, he burst out laughing - looking surprised by it in a way that reminded her weirdly of Clint - carved his knife through his potatoes, poured more gravy over them, and turned his plate toward her.

It was recognizably her. In potatoes and gravy.

"Okay, I don't want to be the person who says you should be doing that for a living because I have no idea why you aren't but if you wanted to, you absolutely could."

"There's a market for potato art?"

Because the toe of her boot was pointy and covered in a silver cap, she kicked him with the side. This time his laughter had a lot less baggage. "It's America. There's a market for everything." She took a quick picture with her phone then pushed the plate back across the table to him, clamping her teeth down on the inappropriate desire to say, I don't usually let a guy eat me on the first date. Inappropriate because while she had no problem with the slightly crude, Steve just didn't seem like the kind of guy who'd appreciate it. From a friend, sure, but not from a girl he was... dating. And yeah, it was a bit of a sexist double standard. Sort of. Maybe it was manners. Maybe it was just respecting his limits. Darcy wasn't sure, but she knew she liked him enough to not want to freak him out.

So while he ate - suddenly pink cheeks suggesting he might've had the thought himself the sly, shy pooch - she devoured the best meat loaf in New York and told him the non classified stuff about Jane. Turned out he had crazy-genius-scientist friends too and the forgetting to put on pants thing was both universal and non gender specific.

Since her foot was already over on his side on the table, she pushed her calf up against his and left it there.

After dinner, they went to an Italian ice cream place Darcy raced past every morning on the way to the subway and walked slowly home, eating their gelato in a silence she didn't feel the need to fill. Which was weird, but a good weird so she went with it.

By the time they got back to the apartment building, she had her arm looped in his and was resting her head on the outside curve of his shoulder - which was remarkably comfortable considering how solid it was.

"Darcy? You falling asleep on me?"

"Sorry. It's been a week."

She woke up enough that he didn't have to carry her up the stairs, then woke up the rest of the way when they stood outside her door and he was looking down at her with an expression as much determined as interested and hell, she'd take determined. Determined got things done.

And then he pulled out his cell phone...

"Is that one of the new Stark phones? Oh my God - and I say that in an entirely non-ironic manner -- it's gorgeous."

Steve snorted as he stroked the screen. Darcy was momentarily jealous of both screen and fingertip. "It's way more complicated than I need."

"It's way more complicated than anyone needs. I suspect that's kind of the point." She frowned. "Are you calling someone? Because giving your buddies a run down of the date before the date is over is kind of uncool."

"What?" He flushed. "No! I wouldn't!"

"Sorry." A raised hand cut off the protests he was about to continue. "Jumped to conclusions. Totally my bad. In fairness, I think I was actually asleep between floors two and three."

To her relief, he smiled. "I know. It's just, you need to fall over and so I thought we could trade telephone numbers. I hear it's what people do when things go well."

"Yeah." Smiling back at him, she fumbled her significantly less amazing phone out of her purse. "It's what people do when things go well." When it was done, she wound her fingers into the front of his pale blue shirt. "And you know what else they do..."

At first she thought he wasn't going to kiss her back then one big hand cupped the back of her head and he got with the program with gratifying enthusiasm. His lips were firm and in spite of his grip, he let her lead. Total lack of slobbering. And he tasted like chocolate gelato.

"Nine out of ten." They were still so close, she could feel the huff of air against her mouth when he laughed. "I'm not that tired."

"Yes, you are."

"Yes, I am. Tomorrow?"

"I have a meeting in the morning but I should be done by lunch."

"I should be awake by lunch."

"Glad to hear it."

He kissed her again, keeping more control this time, and she let him hold her up while he plundered her mouth. When he gently pushed her away, she sighed and said, "You could take advantage of my exhausted state to take advantage."

"No, I couldn't."

"No, you couldn't. Good night, Steve."

"Good night, Darcy." A last touch against her cheek, and he was gone.

Darcy waited until she could no longer hear his footsteps on the stairs and wasn't surprised to see Alan waiting by his open door when she turned.

"Your boy has Iron Man all over his mouth."

She rolled her eyes. "Thanks for the visuals." Frowned. Considered it for a moment. Grinned. "No, really, thanks for the visuals."

chapter three