Avengers-Xchng Fic: Five Times the Avengers Had to Fake Like They Were Dating
Five Times the Avengers Had to Fake Like They Were Dating
Avengers-Xchng gift for Celeste9
Rating: PG-to-PG-13, I think
Warnings: Some mild swearing
Characters/pairings: (Sort of) Natasha/Bruce, Darcy/Steve, Jane/Clint, Tony/Thor, Natasha/Clint
Summary: Pretty much what it says on the tin
I. Natasha and Bruce
"Would you prefer bimbo or surprisingly intelligent for her appearance?"
As expected, starting a conversation with Dr. Banner without any introduction resulted in a startled jolt, a dropped pen, a few scattered papers, and an absolutely befuddled look on his face. Natasha merely perched on the corner of his laboratory table and raised a single eyebrow as she waited for his response.
Part of her -- a very minuscule part -- felt the tiniest twinge of guilt for continuing to avail herself of every opportunity to take him by surprise. But he needed to know that she trusted him not to lose control simply because she surprised him.
She needed to know that she trusted him.
"I...uh...what...I mean...what are you talking about?" he finally got out. He tried to straighten his papers and retrieve his pen from the floor at the same time. All he achieved was a few more crumpled pages and bashing his forehead against the table's edge.
Natasha graciously overlooked his consternation and crossed one leg over the other, ignoring how temptingly close it brought her foot into kicking range. There were limits to acceptable Banner-Baiting behavior, even if Stark thought otherwise. "The Berven Radiation Therapy Conference. Next week."
Finally grabbing hold of the pen, Dr. Banner looked up to meet her gaze. "Oh, okay, the conference, yes." He paused, perhaps expecting her to fill the silence some sort of further explanation.
She didn't.
"Okay, no, sorry, I still have no idea what you're talking about." The pen was dropped into the pile on the table and he turned his full attention to Natasha.
"I'm your date."
"My...date." He blinked at her.
"Yes."
"You. Are my date. To the conference?"
"That is what I said."
He slumped, causing his chair to roll back a few inches, and ran his hand through his tousled hair. "I'm sorry, Natasha, I still have no idea what you're talking about."
She took pity on him. After all, this conference was his first return to the world of science academia since he'd returned to civilization. It was understandable that he would be overwhelmed. "I am to be your bodyguard for the duration of the conference. But as you are not yet public with your connection to the Avengers, or with the Hulk, it was deemed wiser to have me be less overt and instead play the role of your date."
Comprehension dawned and his expression shuttered. "I see."
"So which role would you prefer, bimbo or intelligent?"
"Anyone who remembers me would not believe that I'm dating a bimbo, so the other option would probably be wiser." His tone had gone flat and he turned away to re-focus his attention on his work.
She took the dismissal for what it was and left.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Natasha sidled up to him as he headed toward the elevator the morning of the conference and threaded her arm through his. Already tense, his posture became ramrod straight and he held his elbow out from his side, as if to avoid any more physical contact with her than absolutely necessary.
"If we're going to convince people I'm your date, Dr. Banner," she said in an undertone, "you're going to have to pretend to be more comfortable with me."
"I..." He breathed in through his nose and slowly pushed it out through pursed lips. "You're right." He let his arm drop, pulling her closer in to his side. "By the same token, you should probably call me Bruce."
"Of course." She let her body meld a little closer to his, instinctively using training she never quite remembered learning in the first place to give the appearance of a woman smitten by the wondrous specimen of gentleman she couldn't quite believe was actually hers. By the time the elevator reached the garage level below the tower, anyone catching sight of them would be convinced of her adoration for him.
On their way to the hotel hosting the conference, in a discreet town car that didn't scream "TONY STARK LETS ME USE HIS LIMO!", she asked Bruce to tell her which presentation he was most looking forward to. By the time they arrived, his enthusiasm for science has overwhelmed his apprehension and anyone seeing them enter the lobby would be convinced -- if not for his enthusiasm for her, at least for his excitement about being here with her.
She flirted shamelessly as they signed in and got their name badges and programs. She leaned against his side as she took notes on the various presenters. She listened raptly to the speeches of the poster presenters and even surprised Bruce by asking a few pertinent questions along the way.
At one point, she excused herself to "powder her nose," which he took to mean using the ladies room. She chose not to enlighten him that spies powdered their noses with knives, kicks, and in extreme circumstances, guns. Fortunately, this was an amateur kidnapping attempt, trying to access Bruce as one of Tony Stark's researchers and not as the creator of the Hulk or as a member of the Avengers. Taking care of it didn't even require her to mess up her hair.
"So," she said brightly when she returned. "What's next?"
Drinks with colleagues from years past, stammered cover stories about family emergencies and world travels (Bruce), blushing tales of how they'd met (Natasha), and before they knew it the car was ready to take them back home.
Ever the gentleman, Bruce held the door as Natasha slid tipsily into the back seat. As soon as the door closed, she shook off the slightly-drunk persona and smiled a real smile at Bruce. "There, that wasn't so bad, was it?"
Like she'd flipped a switch, he pulled away from her and regained his tense posture from that morning.
"Bruce? What's wrong?" She didn't let it show, but her mind instantly catalogued all feasible exit routes should it become necessary.
"Look, I get that you had to play friendly while we were in public, but you can drop the act now."
"What do you mean?"
"I get it, okay? SHIELD doesn't trust me to play nice with others, outside of Tony's neutral territory. I can accept that, heck, I can even agree with it. But don't expect me to play all happy and cheerful about having a babysitter everywhere I go."
"Ah." Natasha nodded and let the rest of the ride pass in silence.
Bruce leaned his head back and pretended to sleep.
When they reached the tower, the driver let them out directly in front of the express elevator that led to the Avengers' private living floors. They entered and the elevator door slid silently shut.
Natasha broke the silence. "It's not that we don't trust you, Bruce. It's that we don't trust everyone else out there, and none of us want you to have to deal with them and the guilt that would inevitably come with how you'd have to do so."
She threaded her arm through his, let her body meld a little closer to his, and snuggled her head against his shoulder. In the reflection of the elevator door, she caught him looking down at her in wonder and decided that this date counted as a success.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
II. Darcy and Steve
After the fact, nobody can agree on whose idea it was for Steve to dress up in a cheap, off-the-rack Captain America costume for Halloween. What they all do agree on, though, is that it was definitely Tony's idea to go to that particular club.
Darcy wasn't sure if it was something in the air, or perhaps the water, or maybe even in the drinks, but she'd never seen more blatant propositioning from women in her life. Then again, all of her prior clubbing experience had been in exciting locales such as podunk-middle-of-nowhere, New Mexico; all-this-ghost-town-offers-is-a-truck-stop-diner, Ohio; and oops-we're-all-college-town-idiots, Indiana. So perhaps this was the status quo at a New York City club.
Of course, if she was shocked, there were no words to describe the horrified freaked-out-ness on Steve's face. Despite the tacky quality and cut of his costume, he filled it out well enough to attract every she-demon in the place. After a sexy-nurse, a sexy-policewoman, a sexy-businesswoman, and another sexy-nurse (and that was another thing -- every woman here seemed to have shopped the "sexy professional" racks at the costume stores. Darcy, who had been so proud of her pin curls and seamed stockings with real garters, was starting to feel positively dowdy) had all slithered into Steve's personal bubble, shoved their (push-up-bra'd and probably-siliconed-implanted) boobs in his face, and tried to write their numbers on his arm (or cheek, or in one daring attempt, chest), Darcy decided enough was enough.
She flagged down a bartender by waving a hundred (thank Thor for Tony's subsidizing of the evening or she'd've been sipping water in a corner all night), grabbed two fresh beers, and swayed her way over to the poor, beleaguered Captain.
"Darling!" She made her voice as perky as she could, shoved one of the beers in Steve's hand, and inserted her shoulders under his free arm. Which gave her the perfect vantage point to slide her arm around his waist. "I've been looking all over for you!"
She turned to the sexy-she-hulk (wtf?) who had her claws in Steve's other arm and looked her up and down with a disdainful eye (thank Natasha for setting the best example of a disdainful look ever). "Have you been being naughty over here without me?" Darcy asked Steve, injecting as much possessive teasing into her tone as she could. (Speaking of which, damn, she was good at this stuff. SHEILD should really consider her for agent status.)
"Silly boy," she drawled. Then she took her life, her reputation, and her standing as Avenger-kid-sister in her hands, and reached up to give him a slow, leisurely, you're-already-mine-and-I-know-it-so-I-have-nothing-to-prove kiss. With tongue.
Oh, dear lord in heaven. She was kissing Captain America. And he was kissing back.
Finally giving in to the need to breathe, she pulled back with a gasp. Sexy-She-Hulk had gotten the hint and stalked off to pout.
She offered a sheepish smile. "Sorry about that. You just looked a little...um..." She shrugged.
He smiled back at her. "No, thank you. I don't know how--I mean. They're just...so..."
"Tacky?" she offered. "Pushy? Obnoxious?"
"Forward."
"Ah, yes," she agreed. She tried to retrieve her arm from his waist without being obvious. "Sorry, I was trying to, I don't know, rescue you, and I just gave you more of the same, huh? I do dumb stuff when I drink, what am I saying? Everybody does dumb stuff when they drink. I just do dumb stuff that makes me look ridiculous and I'll just be going now, okay?"
Steve grabbed her hand before she could make a run for it and hide her shame in the furthest back stall of the astonishingly-swanky-for-a-club-full-of-drunks bathroom until it was time to escape this hell on earth she'd brought on herself.
"No, really, thank you, Darcy. It's fine. You're fine."
"Oh." She stared at their hands. "I...don't know what to say. And if I try, I'll just ramble and stick my foot even further in my mouth, so how 'bout I just stand here and look pretty? I can do that, right? Yeah, I can do that."
Steve grinned at her (and holy cow, what a grin) and pulled her close enough for them to intertwine their elbows.
And that's how Darcy played Captain America's girlfriend for the night, defending him from the attacking hordes of she-demons in sexy-themed costumes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
III. Jane and Clint
"Ohmigosh, ohmigosh, what am I going to do?!?"
Darcy's head popped up from where she'd fallen asleep at a table in Jane's lab. Ignoring the post-it notes stuck to her cheek and forehead, she focused on analyzing (and solving) Jane's latest panic attack.
"'swrong, Jane?"
"I just realized it's Thanksgiving!"
Darcy nodded. "Yeah. Day after tomorrow. And?" She tried to force her bleary eyes to focus, but Jane had been on a tear for the past three days and she'd hardly gotten any sleep as she'd done her best to keep her pet scientist fed and watered.
"Thor had to go back to Asgard!" Jane wailed.
Darcy blinked. And blinked again. "And?"
Jane dropped into the chair next to Darcy with a plop. "It's Thanksgiving."
"I...got that," Darcy said slowly.
"I promised my family I'd come home this year."
"Yeah, I know," Darcy said. "Don't worry, I already booked your tickets, everything's all set."
"No, you don't understand!"
Clearly. "Clearly," she said. Meh, it had been too long since she'd slept for any chance at witty repartee or internal filters.
"Thor is in Asgard. I am going home for Thanksgiving. I am going home for Thanksgiving without Thor."
Darcy still had no idea what the problem was. "Isn't that kind of a good thing, seeing as how he'd probably eat the entire dinner in one sitting and leave none for the rest of your family?"
"It's just...I was finally going to bring a date. I was finally going to escape the Merton Holiday When Are You Getting Married And Giving Me Grandbabies Inquisition."
Darcy could hear the capitals. Wait... "Aren't you a Foster?"
"My mom's side." Jane waved away the question. "The point is that I thought I was going to escape it this year. So I didn't prepare! I'm not ready!"
"Seriously, Jane, you live in a tower filled with hot, single men. Just grab one of them as your date, pretend in your head that he's Thor so you can fake all lovey-dovey, and then say you've moved on next holiday when Thor's in town and you can bring him."
Jane stared at Darcy, one finger still tangled in a chunk of hair she'd been twirling and a pen stuck in her mouth. "You. Are. Brilliant."
"Of course I am, what else do you keep me around for?" She stood and started herding Jane toward the lab's door. "Now it's bedtime for overtired scientists and their brilliant assistants. And that means sleep, Jane, not poking around on the tablets and computers I know you have hidden in your room."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The next week, Clint grabbed Darcy pre-coffee and yanked her into a side hallway off the kitchen. "If you ever suggest me as a fake-date for Jane, no, as a matter of fact, if you ever suggest me as a fake date for ANYONE, ever again, remember that I know where you sleep and I can kill you seventeen ways without even using my hands."
"Yeah, yeah, Barton, try me again after I've had coffee." She shoved past him and made a mental note to pick Jane's brain later to find out what exactly had gone on during her Thanksgiving trip.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
IV. Tony and Thor
After innumerable whine sessions where Tony complained about never getting to play spy, despite acknowledging that he was pretty recognizable just about anywhere in the world and so had very little to offer in a covert capacity, the team decided it was time to do something about it.
"We have a mission for you," Natasha said one morning at breakfast, mostly because she was the only one that could be guaranteed to keep a straight face for this duty.
"Yadda, yadda, you just love me for my suit, I know." He waved a hand aimlessly in the air, not even turning his attention away from the schematics on his tablet.
"No, a mission for you, not Iron Man."
Tony perked up. "Do tell."
"We need you to provide...cover." She was perfectly capable of withstanding full-on Stark perusal, but it was a bit different now when he showed honest interest and not a mask made up of a leer. "We need to infiltrate ... a bar. But it is a front for something more. There is one person, however, that we cannot slip past with our normal methods--" and oh, was it painful to claim they couldn't, even if it was a patent falsehood, "--so we need you to use your...charm. Your...charisma."
Tony waggled his eyebrows. "Ooh, la la, romantic intrigue! I'm in!"
They made him leave behind the Iron Man suit -- too noticeable -- when they flew the Quinjet to Chicago. "We've planted a rumor that you'll be in town tonight and left blatant hints of your...possible interest," Natasha informed him as they drew near. "You simply need to go in, brash and flashy, and follow the mark's lead."
He slid on sunglasses and brushed imaginary lint off the lapel of his suit. "No problem, I'm your man."
Tony entered the bar and called out, "Your finest scotch, no ice!" without even glancing toward the bar. With a little extra swagger in his step, he made his way to a plush couch along the side wall, trying to discreetly find the mark. With a slight startle, he realized the bar was full of men, with hardly a woman in the place. And that wasn't stopping them from engaging in hanky panky just this side of indecency laws.
Riiiight. Boystown. Now he remembered why this neighborhood had that name.
"Friend Stark!" a voice boomed in his ear as a strong hand grabbed his shoulder and twirled him around. Before he could even catch his balance, he was being swept into a toe-tingling kiss. He happily went along with the plan until... What the--? "THOR?!?"
"Verily, friend Stark!" Thor clapped Tony on the back hard enough to knock him into the waiting couch. He flopped down beside Tony. "I now understand the legends of your sexual prowess, my friend, if your kisses are any indication!"
"What the-- I mean-- Thor! You-- and Jane-- and ohmigod, Pepper!"
"Yes," Thor said with a sage nod. "It was your fair Pepper who introduced me to the idea of this...practical joke? Yes. I did not realize Midgardians were so open to kissing among shieldbrothers, but Lady Pepper assured me that you would appreciate it."
Well, it seemed like he had Pepper's permission, so he might as well play along. He could kill the rest of them later. "I do indeed, Thor. I do, indeed." This time he initiated the kiss, even as he started planning his revenge.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
V. Clint and Natasha
Tony sipped his drink and wondered why Barton and Romanov had to be here all incognito and super-spy-like when he, himself, was here on a legitimate invitation. Sometimes he was convinced they made up missions just for the fun of it. And to mess with his head.
Speaking of the super spy twins, though, he thought they were supposed to be here by now. Oh. Yes. There they were. Barton had his hand protectively on the small of Romanov's back and how did he get away with doing that and still get to keep his balls?
Shockingly, instead of contemplating castration, Romanov turned a soft smile up at him. Holy shit. If he didn't know better, Tony would almost say she liked his hand there. Barton murmured something that Tony probably wouldn't have been able to hear if he'd been standing next to them instead of watching from halfway across the room. Romanov let out a laugh and snuggled closer to him. There was no other word for it. She snuggled.
"All right, who let out the pod people and what have they done with my scary assassins?"
Barton snagged a glass of champagne and his cover-story-wedding-ring glinted in the light from the candles strategically placed around the ballroom. While Tony could certainly appreciate the romantic atmosphere they leant to the occasion, part of him had been an Avenger long enough to wince at the potential chaos the fire hazard would cause if this all went to shit.
The strains from the orchestra shifted tempo and Tony realized they were starting up a tango. Damn, he wished Pepper had been able to make it tonight. He loved to tango with her. Sometimes they even danced.
Across the dance floor, Barton gave a little bow and held out his hand. Romanov laid hers in his and he yanked her towards him with a dramatic pull. They marched their way across the dance floor, hips twisting and heels kicking in time to the music. Tony liked to complain that it wasn't fair they could read each other's minds and they really should let the rest of the team in on their silent conversations, but now it was even more than that. It was like they were moving as one, not reading each others' minds, not anticipating the other's next movement, but instead just one being with four legs, four arms, two heads, and one heart.
Natasha chomped her teeth at Clint after he pulled her in from a turn -- and how could Tony keep calling them Barton and Romanov now, included as he was in the intimacy of their fully-clothed sex on the dance floor? Clint slid his hand down her side as she wrapped her leg around his waist and holy shit that slit in her dress just went on forever. He dragged her across the floor, eyes on her and her along, trusting that everyone else would get out of their way.
When he stopped, she slid down to the floor, practically doing the splits beneath him. Tony had no idea what happened next, only that they moved and suddenly her foot was on Clint's shoulder with the other off the floor as he spun her around.
By the time the song ended, Tony had never felt more like a voyeur. Normally, he'd say long live the peeping, but that was more than watching sex on the dance floor. No, he had just watched them make love on the dance floor.
Laughing softly, they made their way over to some chairs. Clint flagged down a waiter and Natasha curled up by his side, kicking her shoes off under the chair and cuddling up against him. They looked so...comfortable. Surely that was more than a part played for the benefit of an audience?
Tony wished again that Pepper were there and turned to focus to schmoozing whoever it was next to him.
When the evening was over, Tony crashed the debrief. He didn't care about the intel they'd obtained. No, he just wanted to observe the couple some more, trying to put the pieces from tonight into the puzzle that was Barton and Romanov.
"Seriously, Bruce," he said as they were all leaving. "It was totally hot. The way they moved? I mean, you'd think they really were married!"
Slipping past, her hand still in Clint's, Natasha said, "Who says we're not?"
The End
Avengers-Xchng gift for Celeste9
Rating: PG-to-PG-13, I think
Warnings: Some mild swearing
Characters/pairings: (Sort of) Natasha/Bruce, Darcy/Steve, Jane/Clint, Tony/Thor, Natasha/Clint
Summary: Pretty much what it says on the tin
I. Natasha and Bruce
"Would you prefer bimbo or surprisingly intelligent for her appearance?"
As expected, starting a conversation with Dr. Banner without any introduction resulted in a startled jolt, a dropped pen, a few scattered papers, and an absolutely befuddled look on his face. Natasha merely perched on the corner of his laboratory table and raised a single eyebrow as she waited for his response.
Part of her -- a very minuscule part -- felt the tiniest twinge of guilt for continuing to avail herself of every opportunity to take him by surprise. But he needed to know that she trusted him not to lose control simply because she surprised him.
She needed to know that she trusted him.
"I...uh...what...I mean...what are you talking about?" he finally got out. He tried to straighten his papers and retrieve his pen from the floor at the same time. All he achieved was a few more crumpled pages and bashing his forehead against the table's edge.
Natasha graciously overlooked his consternation and crossed one leg over the other, ignoring how temptingly close it brought her foot into kicking range. There were limits to acceptable Banner-Baiting behavior, even if Stark thought otherwise. "The Berven Radiation Therapy Conference. Next week."
Finally grabbing hold of the pen, Dr. Banner looked up to meet her gaze. "Oh, okay, the conference, yes." He paused, perhaps expecting her to fill the silence some sort of further explanation.
She didn't.
"Okay, no, sorry, I still have no idea what you're talking about." The pen was dropped into the pile on the table and he turned his full attention to Natasha.
"I'm your date."
"My...date." He blinked at her.
"Yes."
"You. Are my date. To the conference?"
"That is what I said."
He slumped, causing his chair to roll back a few inches, and ran his hand through his tousled hair. "I'm sorry, Natasha, I still have no idea what you're talking about."
She took pity on him. After all, this conference was his first return to the world of science academia since he'd returned to civilization. It was understandable that he would be overwhelmed. "I am to be your bodyguard for the duration of the conference. But as you are not yet public with your connection to the Avengers, or with the Hulk, it was deemed wiser to have me be less overt and instead play the role of your date."
Comprehension dawned and his expression shuttered. "I see."
"So which role would you prefer, bimbo or intelligent?"
"Anyone who remembers me would not believe that I'm dating a bimbo, so the other option would probably be wiser." His tone had gone flat and he turned away to re-focus his attention on his work.
She took the dismissal for what it was and left.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Natasha sidled up to him as he headed toward the elevator the morning of the conference and threaded her arm through his. Already tense, his posture became ramrod straight and he held his elbow out from his side, as if to avoid any more physical contact with her than absolutely necessary.
"If we're going to convince people I'm your date, Dr. Banner," she said in an undertone, "you're going to have to pretend to be more comfortable with me."
"I..." He breathed in through his nose and slowly pushed it out through pursed lips. "You're right." He let his arm drop, pulling her closer in to his side. "By the same token, you should probably call me Bruce."
"Of course." She let her body meld a little closer to his, instinctively using training she never quite remembered learning in the first place to give the appearance of a woman smitten by the wondrous specimen of gentleman she couldn't quite believe was actually hers. By the time the elevator reached the garage level below the tower, anyone catching sight of them would be convinced of her adoration for him.
On their way to the hotel hosting the conference, in a discreet town car that didn't scream "TONY STARK LETS ME USE HIS LIMO!", she asked Bruce to tell her which presentation he was most looking forward to. By the time they arrived, his enthusiasm for science has overwhelmed his apprehension and anyone seeing them enter the lobby would be convinced -- if not for his enthusiasm for her, at least for his excitement about being here with her.
She flirted shamelessly as they signed in and got their name badges and programs. She leaned against his side as she took notes on the various presenters. She listened raptly to the speeches of the poster presenters and even surprised Bruce by asking a few pertinent questions along the way.
At one point, she excused herself to "powder her nose," which he took to mean using the ladies room. She chose not to enlighten him that spies powdered their noses with knives, kicks, and in extreme circumstances, guns. Fortunately, this was an amateur kidnapping attempt, trying to access Bruce as one of Tony Stark's researchers and not as the creator of the Hulk or as a member of the Avengers. Taking care of it didn't even require her to mess up her hair.
"So," she said brightly when she returned. "What's next?"
Drinks with colleagues from years past, stammered cover stories about family emergencies and world travels (Bruce), blushing tales of how they'd met (Natasha), and before they knew it the car was ready to take them back home.
Ever the gentleman, Bruce held the door as Natasha slid tipsily into the back seat. As soon as the door closed, she shook off the slightly-drunk persona and smiled a real smile at Bruce. "There, that wasn't so bad, was it?"
Like she'd flipped a switch, he pulled away from her and regained his tense posture from that morning.
"Bruce? What's wrong?" She didn't let it show, but her mind instantly catalogued all feasible exit routes should it become necessary.
"Look, I get that you had to play friendly while we were in public, but you can drop the act now."
"What do you mean?"
"I get it, okay? SHIELD doesn't trust me to play nice with others, outside of Tony's neutral territory. I can accept that, heck, I can even agree with it. But don't expect me to play all happy and cheerful about having a babysitter everywhere I go."
"Ah." Natasha nodded and let the rest of the ride pass in silence.
Bruce leaned his head back and pretended to sleep.
When they reached the tower, the driver let them out directly in front of the express elevator that led to the Avengers' private living floors. They entered and the elevator door slid silently shut.
Natasha broke the silence. "It's not that we don't trust you, Bruce. It's that we don't trust everyone else out there, and none of us want you to have to deal with them and the guilt that would inevitably come with how you'd have to do so."
She threaded her arm through his, let her body meld a little closer to his, and snuggled her head against his shoulder. In the reflection of the elevator door, she caught him looking down at her in wonder and decided that this date counted as a success.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
II. Darcy and Steve
After the fact, nobody can agree on whose idea it was for Steve to dress up in a cheap, off-the-rack Captain America costume for Halloween. What they all do agree on, though, is that it was definitely Tony's idea to go to that particular club.
Darcy wasn't sure if it was something in the air, or perhaps the water, or maybe even in the drinks, but she'd never seen more blatant propositioning from women in her life. Then again, all of her prior clubbing experience had been in exciting locales such as podunk-middle-of-nowhere, New Mexico; all-this-ghost-town-offers-is-a-truck-stop-diner, Ohio; and oops-we're-all-college-town-idiots, Indiana. So perhaps this was the status quo at a New York City club.
Of course, if she was shocked, there were no words to describe the horrified freaked-out-ness on Steve's face. Despite the tacky quality and cut of his costume, he filled it out well enough to attract every she-demon in the place. After a sexy-nurse, a sexy-policewoman, a sexy-businesswoman, and another sexy-nurse (and that was another thing -- every woman here seemed to have shopped the "sexy professional" racks at the costume stores. Darcy, who had been so proud of her pin curls and seamed stockings with real garters, was starting to feel positively dowdy) had all slithered into Steve's personal bubble, shoved their (push-up-bra'd and probably-siliconed-implanted) boobs in his face, and tried to write their numbers on his arm (or cheek, or in one daring attempt, chest), Darcy decided enough was enough.
She flagged down a bartender by waving a hundred (thank Thor for Tony's subsidizing of the evening or she'd've been sipping water in a corner all night), grabbed two fresh beers, and swayed her way over to the poor, beleaguered Captain.
"Darling!" She made her voice as perky as she could, shoved one of the beers in Steve's hand, and inserted her shoulders under his free arm. Which gave her the perfect vantage point to slide her arm around his waist. "I've been looking all over for you!"
She turned to the sexy-she-hulk (wtf?) who had her claws in Steve's other arm and looked her up and down with a disdainful eye (thank Natasha for setting the best example of a disdainful look ever). "Have you been being naughty over here without me?" Darcy asked Steve, injecting as much possessive teasing into her tone as she could. (Speaking of which, damn, she was good at this stuff. SHEILD should really consider her for agent status.)
"Silly boy," she drawled. Then she took her life, her reputation, and her standing as Avenger-kid-sister in her hands, and reached up to give him a slow, leisurely, you're-already-mine-and-I-know-it-so-I-have-nothing-to-prove kiss. With tongue.
Oh, dear lord in heaven. She was kissing Captain America. And he was kissing back.
Finally giving in to the need to breathe, she pulled back with a gasp. Sexy-She-Hulk had gotten the hint and stalked off to pout.
She offered a sheepish smile. "Sorry about that. You just looked a little...um..." She shrugged.
He smiled back at her. "No, thank you. I don't know how--I mean. They're just...so..."
"Tacky?" she offered. "Pushy? Obnoxious?"
"Forward."
"Ah, yes," she agreed. She tried to retrieve her arm from his waist without being obvious. "Sorry, I was trying to, I don't know, rescue you, and I just gave you more of the same, huh? I do dumb stuff when I drink, what am I saying? Everybody does dumb stuff when they drink. I just do dumb stuff that makes me look ridiculous and I'll just be going now, okay?"
Steve grabbed her hand before she could make a run for it and hide her shame in the furthest back stall of the astonishingly-swanky-for-a-club-full-of-drunks bathroom until it was time to escape this hell on earth she'd brought on herself.
"No, really, thank you, Darcy. It's fine. You're fine."
"Oh." She stared at their hands. "I...don't know what to say. And if I try, I'll just ramble and stick my foot even further in my mouth, so how 'bout I just stand here and look pretty? I can do that, right? Yeah, I can do that."
Steve grinned at her (and holy cow, what a grin) and pulled her close enough for them to intertwine their elbows.
And that's how Darcy played Captain America's girlfriend for the night, defending him from the attacking hordes of she-demons in sexy-themed costumes.
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III. Jane and Clint
"Ohmigosh, ohmigosh, what am I going to do?!?"
Darcy's head popped up from where she'd fallen asleep at a table in Jane's lab. Ignoring the post-it notes stuck to her cheek and forehead, she focused on analyzing (and solving) Jane's latest panic attack.
"'swrong, Jane?"
"I just realized it's Thanksgiving!"
Darcy nodded. "Yeah. Day after tomorrow. And?" She tried to force her bleary eyes to focus, but Jane had been on a tear for the past three days and she'd hardly gotten any sleep as she'd done her best to keep her pet scientist fed and watered.
"Thor had to go back to Asgard!" Jane wailed.
Darcy blinked. And blinked again. "And?"
Jane dropped into the chair next to Darcy with a plop. "It's Thanksgiving."
"I...got that," Darcy said slowly.
"I promised my family I'd come home this year."
"Yeah, I know," Darcy said. "Don't worry, I already booked your tickets, everything's all set."
"No, you don't understand!"
Clearly. "Clearly," she said. Meh, it had been too long since she'd slept for any chance at witty repartee or internal filters.
"Thor is in Asgard. I am going home for Thanksgiving. I am going home for Thanksgiving without Thor."
Darcy still had no idea what the problem was. "Isn't that kind of a good thing, seeing as how he'd probably eat the entire dinner in one sitting and leave none for the rest of your family?"
"It's just...I was finally going to bring a date. I was finally going to escape the Merton Holiday When Are You Getting Married And Giving Me Grandbabies Inquisition."
Darcy could hear the capitals. Wait... "Aren't you a Foster?"
"My mom's side." Jane waved away the question. "The point is that I thought I was going to escape it this year. So I didn't prepare! I'm not ready!"
"Seriously, Jane, you live in a tower filled with hot, single men. Just grab one of them as your date, pretend in your head that he's Thor so you can fake all lovey-dovey, and then say you've moved on next holiday when Thor's in town and you can bring him."
Jane stared at Darcy, one finger still tangled in a chunk of hair she'd been twirling and a pen stuck in her mouth. "You. Are. Brilliant."
"Of course I am, what else do you keep me around for?" She stood and started herding Jane toward the lab's door. "Now it's bedtime for overtired scientists and their brilliant assistants. And that means sleep, Jane, not poking around on the tablets and computers I know you have hidden in your room."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The next week, Clint grabbed Darcy pre-coffee and yanked her into a side hallway off the kitchen. "If you ever suggest me as a fake-date for Jane, no, as a matter of fact, if you ever suggest me as a fake date for ANYONE, ever again, remember that I know where you sleep and I can kill you seventeen ways without even using my hands."
"Yeah, yeah, Barton, try me again after I've had coffee." She shoved past him and made a mental note to pick Jane's brain later to find out what exactly had gone on during her Thanksgiving trip.
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IV. Tony and Thor
After innumerable whine sessions where Tony complained about never getting to play spy, despite acknowledging that he was pretty recognizable just about anywhere in the world and so had very little to offer in a covert capacity, the team decided it was time to do something about it.
"We have a mission for you," Natasha said one morning at breakfast, mostly because she was the only one that could be guaranteed to keep a straight face for this duty.
"Yadda, yadda, you just love me for my suit, I know." He waved a hand aimlessly in the air, not even turning his attention away from the schematics on his tablet.
"No, a mission for you, not Iron Man."
Tony perked up. "Do tell."
"We need you to provide...cover." She was perfectly capable of withstanding full-on Stark perusal, but it was a bit different now when he showed honest interest and not a mask made up of a leer. "We need to infiltrate ... a bar. But it is a front for something more. There is one person, however, that we cannot slip past with our normal methods--" and oh, was it painful to claim they couldn't, even if it was a patent falsehood, "--so we need you to use your...charm. Your...charisma."
Tony waggled his eyebrows. "Ooh, la la, romantic intrigue! I'm in!"
They made him leave behind the Iron Man suit -- too noticeable -- when they flew the Quinjet to Chicago. "We've planted a rumor that you'll be in town tonight and left blatant hints of your...possible interest," Natasha informed him as they drew near. "You simply need to go in, brash and flashy, and follow the mark's lead."
He slid on sunglasses and brushed imaginary lint off the lapel of his suit. "No problem, I'm your man."
Tony entered the bar and called out, "Your finest scotch, no ice!" without even glancing toward the bar. With a little extra swagger in his step, he made his way to a plush couch along the side wall, trying to discreetly find the mark. With a slight startle, he realized the bar was full of men, with hardly a woman in the place. And that wasn't stopping them from engaging in hanky panky just this side of indecency laws.
Riiiight. Boystown. Now he remembered why this neighborhood had that name.
"Friend Stark!" a voice boomed in his ear as a strong hand grabbed his shoulder and twirled him around. Before he could even catch his balance, he was being swept into a toe-tingling kiss. He happily went along with the plan until... What the--? "THOR?!?"
"Verily, friend Stark!" Thor clapped Tony on the back hard enough to knock him into the waiting couch. He flopped down beside Tony. "I now understand the legends of your sexual prowess, my friend, if your kisses are any indication!"
"What the-- I mean-- Thor! You-- and Jane-- and ohmigod, Pepper!"
"Yes," Thor said with a sage nod. "It was your fair Pepper who introduced me to the idea of this...practical joke? Yes. I did not realize Midgardians were so open to kissing among shieldbrothers, but Lady Pepper assured me that you would appreciate it."
Well, it seemed like he had Pepper's permission, so he might as well play along. He could kill the rest of them later. "I do indeed, Thor. I do, indeed." This time he initiated the kiss, even as he started planning his revenge.
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V. Clint and Natasha
Tony sipped his drink and wondered why Barton and Romanov had to be here all incognito and super-spy-like when he, himself, was here on a legitimate invitation. Sometimes he was convinced they made up missions just for the fun of it. And to mess with his head.
Speaking of the super spy twins, though, he thought they were supposed to be here by now. Oh. Yes. There they were. Barton had his hand protectively on the small of Romanov's back and how did he get away with doing that and still get to keep his balls?
Shockingly, instead of contemplating castration, Romanov turned a soft smile up at him. Holy shit. If he didn't know better, Tony would almost say she liked his hand there. Barton murmured something that Tony probably wouldn't have been able to hear if he'd been standing next to them instead of watching from halfway across the room. Romanov let out a laugh and snuggled closer to him. There was no other word for it. She snuggled.
"All right, who let out the pod people and what have they done with my scary assassins?"
Barton snagged a glass of champagne and his cover-story-wedding-ring glinted in the light from the candles strategically placed around the ballroom. While Tony could certainly appreciate the romantic atmosphere they leant to the occasion, part of him had been an Avenger long enough to wince at the potential chaos the fire hazard would cause if this all went to shit.
The strains from the orchestra shifted tempo and Tony realized they were starting up a tango. Damn, he wished Pepper had been able to make it tonight. He loved to tango with her. Sometimes they even danced.
Across the dance floor, Barton gave a little bow and held out his hand. Romanov laid hers in his and he yanked her towards him with a dramatic pull. They marched their way across the dance floor, hips twisting and heels kicking in time to the music. Tony liked to complain that it wasn't fair they could read each other's minds and they really should let the rest of the team in on their silent conversations, but now it was even more than that. It was like they were moving as one, not reading each others' minds, not anticipating the other's next movement, but instead just one being with four legs, four arms, two heads, and one heart.
Natasha chomped her teeth at Clint after he pulled her in from a turn -- and how could Tony keep calling them Barton and Romanov now, included as he was in the intimacy of their fully-clothed sex on the dance floor? Clint slid his hand down her side as she wrapped her leg around his waist and holy shit that slit in her dress just went on forever. He dragged her across the floor, eyes on her and her along, trusting that everyone else would get out of their way.
When he stopped, she slid down to the floor, practically doing the splits beneath him. Tony had no idea what happened next, only that they moved and suddenly her foot was on Clint's shoulder with the other off the floor as he spun her around.
By the time the song ended, Tony had never felt more like a voyeur. Normally, he'd say long live the peeping, but that was more than watching sex on the dance floor. No, he had just watched them make love on the dance floor.
Laughing softly, they made their way over to some chairs. Clint flagged down a waiter and Natasha curled up by his side, kicking her shoes off under the chair and cuddling up against him. They looked so...comfortable. Surely that was more than a part played for the benefit of an audience?
Tony wished again that Pepper were there and turned to focus to schmoozing whoever it was next to him.
When the evening was over, Tony crashed the debrief. He didn't care about the intel they'd obtained. No, he just wanted to observe the couple some more, trying to put the pieces from tonight into the puzzle that was Barton and Romanov.
"Seriously, Bruce," he said as they were all leaving. "It was totally hot. The way they moved? I mean, you'd think they really were married!"
Slipping past, her hand still in Clint's, Natasha said, "Who says we're not?"
The End