FIC: Rule Number Nine (Avengers) Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers (Explicit) 3/3
Part One || Part Two || Part Three
Steve hears the sigh as he walks past the rec room, because it's hard to miss a Hulk-sized sigh. He backtracks enough to stick his head in the door, and sees Hulk hunched on the couch, chin propped on his hands. As Steve watches, he sighs again.
A quick check of his watch confirms it's been over four hours since they got home from their last mission, which is on the outside of Bruce's reversion period. Every once in a while he gets stuck, usually because something is bothering him. So far he's always come out of it within a day or two, and no one really worries about it much, because he isn't a danger to anyone anymore. Hulk loves everyone in the house now. Maybe a little too much sometimes, as Clint's ribs can attest.
Steve's just about to say something, ask what's wrong, when Tony and Darcy come around the corner. Tony's waving his hands around and rambling nonsense that probably makes some kind of sense if you can parse it, while Darcy follows along behind him, carefully out of accidental poking range. Her arms are loaded down with bound reports and file folders, and she's flicking through something on her tablet and saying things like, "Right, got it. Uh huh. Whatever you say, Tony." She always sounds a little like she's mocking Tony when she does that, but he doesn't seem to care.
As they pass the doorway Tony raises an eyebrow at Steve, then sees Hulk and stops short. Darcy, focused on her tablet, walks right into his back.
"Hey, a little warning next time!" Darcy says, glaring at him as she straightens her glasses.
Tony pays no attention to her. "What's going on?" he asks Steve as he takes in the scene in the rec room. "Someone let him watch Lilo & Stitch again?"
"I'm not sure," Steve says. "I just found him." Hulk sighs again.
Darcy peeks around Tony's shoulder and says, "Oh, poor thing," which isn't something a lot of people say about Hulk. She brushes past Steve and Tony, and heads straight for the couch. It's the special reinforced one, the only one Hulk can sit on. She pauses to carefully set everything in her arms, plus her phone, down on a nearby table, because they've all learned Hulk can break things without meaning to, and that'll only make him feel worse.
Expensive electronics safely stashed, Darcy sits down next to Hulk, looking hilariously tiny in comparison, and asks, "What's the matter, big guy?"
"Hulk sad," Hulk says glumly, as if that weren't already obvious.
"Sir, Director Fury is on the line for you," Jarvis says suddenly, startling the crap out of Steve. He loves Jarvis, he really does, but he's starting to think Jarvis enjoys making him jump.
Tony pulls his phone out of his pocket. "Darce, come see me when the therapy session is over," he says, and then walks away, phone to his ear.
Steve's not sure if he should stay or go, but Darcy meets his eyes and tips her head to let him know he should come in, so he walks over and squeezes into what little space is left on Hulk's other side.
"You wanna talk about it?" Darcy asks Hulk. Sometimes he needs a little coaxing to fess up to what's bugging him.
"Hulk not a freak," he says, and opens one hand. In the center of his big green palm is a jagged rock the size of an egg.
"Oh, boy," Steve says, ashamed that he didn't realize.
Darcy leans forward, craning her neck so she can see Steve around Hulk's massive bulk. "What is that?" she asks him.
Steve feels a little ill. "Some people threw things at him today, as we were leaving. They said some things, too."
Hulk had handled it well, actually, simply snarling as he turned away. The rest of the Avengers hadn't been so sanguine. Thor had given the guys-a group of Long Island smartasses-the most regal scolding of their lives while Clint, Steve, and Tony stood behind him and glared. Natasha hadn't said anything, but had unnerved them all by perching on Hulk's shoulder and staring fixedly at them as she reloaded her guns.
Once the tongue-lashing was over and the smartasses had skulked away, Steve hadn't given it another thought. He sometimes forgets that Hulk's a lot more vulnerable on the inside than he is on the outside. Just like the rest of the Avengers.
Steve gives Darcy an abbreviated version of what happened, not wanting either himself or Hulk to relive it. The look on Darcy's face accurately reflects what Steve had felt at the time. She's upset and angry. "Why would they do that? He was helping."
"They were just...being jerks," he says, which is the simplest answer. It's a universal constant, and he of all people knows this. "They're just jerks, Hulk. They aren't half as brave as you are."
Darcy picks up the thread immediately. "That's right. They probably don't help people like you do. And they definitely don't get to live in a house with a bunch of awesome people like Steve and Thor, right?" She reaches up and ruffles his hair, and Hulk dips his head toward her and closes his eyes, like a dog getting its ears scratched. Steve thinks it's one of the sweetest things he's ever seen.
"Hulk have friends," Hulk rumbles as he loops an arm around Darcy and pulls her into a hug. She nearly disappears into his arms. Steve hopes she can breathe.
"That's right, we're all friends," Steve says, and the next thing he knows, he's being pulled into a hug, too, and squished against Hulk's massive chest next to Darcy. Her glasses are crooked again, and her face is pink with laughter and maybe from being squeezed a little too hard. She's the best, and Steve adores her so much right then he can barely stand it.
Hulk mashes them together a little more, and Steve risks a quick kiss, their first one in the house since the night they agreed to be fuddies, but there's no one to see them here, safe and hidden in Hulk's arms. She kisses him back, and grins against his mouth, and then maybe it's more than just one kiss. Hulk's making a pleased rumbling sound that tickles as it vibrates through Steve's whole body.
"Okay, you think you can let go now?" Steve asks after another minute ticks by. Hulk's hugs are kind of sweaty.
When Hulk lets them go, Darcy and Steve are both a mess, and Steve thinks his cheeks are probably as red as Darcy's, and not just from being squeezed by Hulk. He tries to pat his hair back down and straighten his clothes as Darcy fixes her glasses. Hulk is still holding the rock.
"You know what?" Darcy says, after appearing to consider their options. "I bet Clint's fish would love that rock." Clint has an enormous three hundred gallon fish tank in his room, full of plants and miniature Easter Island heads and a little diving man that actually swims around. It has a single goldfish in it, named Clementine.
Hulk's face lights up at the suggestion. He loves Clementine. "Hulk give rock to Clementine," he says, and heaves himself up off the couch and lumbers out of the room while Steve's still trying to tuck his shirt back into his pants; at least it didn't get torn this time.
Clint is shirtless and toweling his hair when he opens his door. As Steve explains the point of their visit-Clint's eyes narrow briefly when he's reminded of what happened earlier-it dawns on him that he's standing there obviously just out of the shower, but the shower is still running. Then Steve notices the bed is unmade, and a pair of boots he recognizes as Natasha's are part of the pile of clothing on the floor. And that purple bra probably isn't Clint's either.
"Actually…we can come back," Steve says, but Clint starts shaking his head before Steve even gets all the words out.
"C'mon in, buddy," he says to Hulk. "I was just thinking Clementine needed something new to look at."
"Are you sure?" Steve asks, as Hulk nearly flattens him against the doorframe as he pushes past him into the room. Clint doesn't bother to answer, which isn't a surprise. Once Clint's stated his opinion, he doesn't waste time reiterating it. He just stands back and motions Steve and Darcy in, too. So they all tromp into Clint's room and gather around the tank just as the shower stops.
"Hang on," Clint says, as he digs some clothing out a drawer. He opens the bathroom door for a second and tosses the clothes in, then tugs a T-shirt over his head as he joins them at the fish tank. "She'll be out in a minute," he says.
Steve just nods, embarrassed they interrupted them during a private moment, but also a little jealous. Clint and Natasha can be together right here in the house, and they don't have to hide what they're doing. Steve very carefully does not look at Darcy, afraid his face will give too much away.
They stand around admiring Clementine's many decorations until Natasha joins them at the tank, fully dressed, hair wet. Darcy gives her an abbreviated version of the reason for their visit. Natasha, who has the softest of all the soft spots in the house for Hulk, loops her arm around one of his big green ones and leans against it as Clint opens the top of the tank.
Hulk pokes at the diving man for a bit, his favorite thing in the tank after Clementine himself, and then they all watch in respectful silence as Hulk gently and solemnly drops the rock into the tank. It sends up a tiny cloud of sand when it lands. Clementine swims over almost immediately to investigate, which pleases Hulk to no end.
Everyone admires the rock for a bit, and also Clementine's intelligence, as explained to them by Clint. Eventually Clementine loses interest and swims away, disappearing into the maze of plants and other adornments in his tank.
"Okay, everyone!" Steve says, clapping his hands together. "Time to give Clint his room back." He hasn't forgotten they interrupted him and Natasha.
Darcy gives Hulk what would be a shoulder bump but is more of a shoulder-to-elbow bump on the big guy. Steve wonders if he even feels it. "Hey, you need some ice cream?" she asks, bumping him again.
That breaks Hulk's Clementine watching-induced trance. "Ice cream," Hulk rumbles, sounding pleased, and he's out the door and gone. Once Hulk decides he's going to do something, he does it. Steve and Darcy hurry to catch up, because leaving Hulk alone in the kitchen is never a good idea. He once ate an entire restaurant-sized jar of Greek olives.
"I could use some ice cream, too," Natasha says, and Clint starts hunting around for his shoes, so it looks like everyone's having some.
After a quick trip to the kitchen they return to the rec room, where Hulk takes his usual place on the Hulk couch. Clint slouches into a big recliner with his ice cream sandwich already starting to drip down his fingers, and Natasha sits on the arm of the chair with her feet tucked between his legs, relaxed and easy with each other. Clint says something that makes her laugh, and she feeds him a spoonful of whatever ice cream is in her bowl, something chocolately.
It's skirting the edges of rule-breaking, but Steve sits next to Darcy, taking advantage of the fact that Hulk occupies most of the couch and they're kind of squished together. She doesn't seem to mind, and even flings one leg over his knee and starts swinging her foot as they eat and talk. This is a first, either of them displaying this much closeness and familiarity in front of other people.
It lasts a few happy minutes before Darcy's phone crows at her from the table. She hands Steve her empty bowl and gets up to check it, then gathers up her files and her tablet. Tony must need something, Steve realizes, and then remembers this is actually a work day for her. She probably had all kinds of stuff piling up while she was doing this; Steve's seen her email inbox and it's frightening. But she took the time to do this anyway, because Hulk was upset.
Next to Steve, Hulk is now humming happily as he slowly works his way through a gallon carton of strawberry with a wooden mixing spoon. He's actually a very fastidious eater.
"I gotta run," Darcy says, sounding apologetic. "We have to go over this week's lawsuits." One of the more surprising things Steve has learned about Tony is that at any given time he is being sued by half a dozen people who claim he stole their ideas. So far no one has been able to prove that's true. It's doesn't seem to bother Tony very much.
"Hey, thanks for hanging out," Clint says, as Natasha nods, mouth full of ice cream. "And taking care of stuff," he adds, glancing over at Hulk.
"No problem," Darcy says. She pauses on her way out to give Hulk a one-armed hug. He doesn't stop eating, but does tip his cheek down for a kiss, as Steve sits there next to him, trying not to feel envious.
"You feel better?" Steve asks him, as Darcy walks away, though the answer is obvious.
Hulk nods as he licks the back of the spoon. His taste buds are really dark green, Steve notices. "Darcy make Hulk feel better."
"Yeah," Steve agrees, as Darcy looks back over her shoulder and gives them all a little wave before she's gone. "Me, too."
~*~
Tony and Pepper are out of town, vacationing someplace warm, but Pepper sends him a text that says, Darcy is sick please check on her if you can, so Steve sends Darcy a text, and then a few hours later sends another one when he gets no response. Another hour later, despite the fact that he's spent most of it staring at his phone and willing it to chirp at him, he still has not received anything from her, which is unheard of when it comes to Darcy. Finally, with rising panic, he calls her.
She sounds groggy and miserable when she answers the phone, but agrees to let Steve come over after he reminds her he can't catch whatever she has. While he's getting his jacket, she texts him a request for cold medicine, and also some orange juice. Happy is already waiting with the car when Steve gets downstairs-Pepper texted him, too-and they head into the night full of grim determination. When Pepper says jump, everyone asks how high.
Steve nearly buys out the whole drug store, because the array of medicines is overwhelming-shelves and shelves of them-and he's not even sure exactly what Darcy needs. He ends up grabbing a little of everything, and then they stop at his favorite deli for some chicken soup. Three blocks later, he makes Happy stop again, and buys a pint of ice cream, because that seems to be Darcy's cure for everything. Happy drops him off at the curb with orders to call when he's ready to come home.
Darcy answers the door with a blanket around her shoulders, bleary-eyed and slouchy, and shuffles back to the couch, leaving him to kick the door closed while trying not to drop anything. Her hair is a tangled mess and she's wearing two different colored socks. Steve wants to cover her whole face with kisses.
He puts some soup in a bowl, and then lets her dig through the bag from the drug store, belatedly embarrassed by how many things he bought. She laughs a little, though, which he's glad to see, even if it leads to coughing. After she drinks some Nyquil and eats some soup, she nestles in the crook of his arm and lets him push her hair back, kiss her hot forehead.
She dozes off after a while, and Steve gently eases down onto his back so he can settle her on his chest. He's not sure if he's comforting her or taking advantage, but he can't seem to make himself stop, so he gives into the temptation and holds onto her and thinks thoughts he's definitely not supposed to think, until he sleeps, too.
~*~
The next morning, Darcy doesn't say anything about the fact that Steve spent the night, but that may be because she feels even worse. He intends to spend the whole day doting on her, but he gets a summons from Fury and has to leave in a rush and spend a few hours rescuing some hostages from a group of very bad people who are all named after snakes.
That evening, he goes back to Darcy's with some more soup, plus a change of clothes and his toothbrush, just in case. He feels a little guilty about it-that's two rules broken now-but he'd be foolish to not take the opportunity to stay over again if she wants him to.
It does not go at all like the previous day. Darcy is surly and cross and does not want to be cuddled at all, and Steve can't seem to do anything right. He almost gives up and goes home so she can get some rest without him in the way, but when he suggests it she gets even surlier, so they watch a movie instead and Steve tries not to say anything that will get him in trouble.
Eventually, she inches over to sit next to him, and he cautiously puts his arm around her, holding his breath until she snuggles against him. She doesn't feel as feverish anymore, but she's clearly still miserable.
"You don't have to do all this, you know," she says, just when Steve is starting to wonder if she's fallen asleep. "It's not like you're my boyfriend."
"I know," Steve says quickly, though his lungs feel so pinched he can barely draw breath to speak. When she finally does fall asleep, he carefully slips away from her and takes her forgotten soup back to the kitchen. He keeps his back to her while he rinses out the bowl, so he doesn't have to see her curled up on the couch, his to touch but not to have. He knows he isn't her boyfriend, never forgets it for a second, and he's not sure how much longer he can stand it.
~*~
Steve knows there's really only one really obvious choice for whom to go to with questions about sexual relationships, casual and otherwise, so he prepares himself to talk to the expert.
Tony is in his shop welding something when Steve finally works up the nerve to approach him. He waits out of the range of the sparks until Tony notices him and lifts the torch away. "I need to ask you something. Uh, confidentially," Steve says.
Tony takes one look at Steve's face and says, "Sure." He kills the torch and slides his goggles up onto the top of his head. He waits patiently-extremely patiently, for Tony-while Steve clears his throat and gathers his courage.
If Steve were wearing a tie, he'd tug on it, but he isn't, so he looks at the floor and scratches the back of his neck instead. "So I was wondering about-well, is it possible to go from being fuckbuddies with someone to being, you know, in a relationship?" He still hates that word, but he isn't sure Tony will know what a fuddy is, so he has no choice. He finally looks up at Tony, who doesn't seem surprised by the question at all. "Does that ever work?"
Tony crosses his arms and squints at Steve. "Is this about Darcy?"
Steve has a moment of absolute horror and panic, and only barely manages to not immediately deny it all and flee back upstairs. A third rule, smashed to pieces. None of their friends are supposed to know. "How do you know about Darcy?" he asks instead.
Tony snags a stool with his foot and rolls it over so he can sit on it. "Who else could it be?" he asks as he picks up an incomprehensible tangle of wires and goes to work on it with a pair of pliers. "I can't imagine you being anyone's fuckbuddy at all, really, so it would have to be someone you've known for a while, because you're one of those sensitive nice guy types-which some women love, so don't feel bad about that-and I know it's not Pepper or Jane or Betty, so that leaves Natasha or Darcy. If it were Natasha, you'd probably be limping a lot, even with the super healing thing, plus it looks like she and Clint are back on again. And you've been paying a lot of attention to Darcy lately." He frowns at the wires. "Who, by the way is my employee, so I hope you're not fucking her on my time."
Steve doesn't even know where to start with all that, so he addresses the most offensive part first. "We never did anything while she was work-"
"I was joking," Tony says, grinning at him before he goes back to fiddling with his wires. "You know how many assistants I've fucked on company time? My own and everyone else's?"
"Uh, no," Steve says. "But a lot, I guess?" He wishes Tony would quit saying "fuck."
"A lot," Tony says, looking pleased with himself.
"Okay," Steve says, not very comfortable with the turn this conversation has taken. He really just needed some advice.
"Anyway," Tony says, giving up on the wires. He spins on the stool to face Steve. "To answer your question, yes it can be done. I've never done it myself, mostly because I've never wanted to, but it's not impossible." Steve is momentarily encouraged by this, until Tony continues, "The problem is, if you bring it up and she says no, then you've screwed yourself, because if she's not interested, she'll probably break it off once she knows you're getting in a little too deep. So you run the risk of ending up with nothing."
Having nothing sounds even worse than having what they have now, despite how bittersweet it's turned out to be. Steve tries not to let on that the answer isn't what he wanted to hear. He just thanks Tony, who nods and says, "Anytime." He's back to his welding before Steve even gets up the stairs.
By the time he makes it back to his room, Steve's decided not to do anything rash, to take some time and think about it for a while. He won't stall around. He'll just give it some thought before making a decision.
So that's what he does. For two more months.
~*~
"I'm thinking you should let me buy you dinner," Darcy says, leaning against the door in the gym. She's got what Steve knows is a Stark corporate credit card held up between two fingers. This usually means she's had a particularly trying day and either Tony or Pepper told her to go out and spend some money on herself. "Someplace expensive."
"I'd be glad to," Steve puffs out, doing one last chin-up before he drops back down to the floor, arms burning. He gingerly flexes his fingers, which don't want to uncurl right away. He was up there a long time.
"Good, because I need a martini the size of your biceps," she tells him, as her eyes travel appreciatively up and down his body.
"That's a pretty big martini," he says, giving her a sly sideways glance as he grabs his towel and wipes his face. Flirty banter is actually not that hard when you really like the person you're bantering with, he's found. They're lucky his shirt is soaked with sweat, or he'd be tempted to kiss her right here in the house, and that would be against the rules.
Jarvis has a car waiting by the time Steve's showered and dressed. They walk out to the curb with a perfect two feet of distance between them, but as soon as the car door closes behind Steve, Darcy slides over and under his waiting arm. Her hand rests on his thigh as the car pulls out into traffic. The windows are blacked out, and the divider between them and the driver is up. They have a modicum of privacy here.
"That bad?" he asks, once they've pulled out into traffic and are crawling toward the restaurant. He knows there was a press conference today for Tony's company, which is why Darcy is dressed all in black; it's what she does when she has to deal with a lot of reporters. Steve doesn't think it makes her look particularly intimidating, but that's maybe because he knows her too well. Her hair is twisted into a knot on top of her head and she's wearing tall leather boots. Steve really likes the boots.
"He told the entire press conference about the nanotech," she says, leaning her head back on his arm and closing her eyes. "Even though he swore he wouldn't. But I knew he would, so I had the handouts with the specs ready."
This isn't surprising news--Tony is impulsive and prone to making big promises and saying things he's not supposed to say. But it's hard to hold it against him, because he almost always delivers on his promises, and the press loves his theatrics. And Darcy has learned to be ready for anything, like she was today. Steve never gets tired of hearing about Darcy outwitting him.
"You're the perfect antidote to sixteen hours with Tony," she says, squeezing his leg. She's wearing her ladybug bracelet, a matching piece to that first necklace he bought her. He got the bracelet for her when they went to a big fundraiser for Citymeals-on-Wheels.
"Am I?" Steve asks, amused. "Does that mean I'm boring?"
"Captain Rogers, you are far from boring," she replies, a little flirty, and Steve flashes back to the last time he was at her place, a little mini movie whizzing quickly across his brain before he makes himself pay attention again. "And you're way less high-maintenance, too."
"I would hope so," Steve laughs. Everyone is less high-maintenance than Tony, except maybe newborn infants. Tony expects the world-and his world in particular, which includes his company, Iron Man, and the Avengers-to revolve around him. In all fairness, the world often seems to be happy to do just that. And being around Tony can be invigorating, and Bruce is one of the people who seem to thrive on it, but at a certain point it tips over into exhausting. Darcy has the look of someone who has reached that tipping point.
Since he already knows back seats of blacked out cars don't count as public, he tips her face toward him with a finger on her chin and kisses her mouth, gentle and lingering.
"Mmmm. I feel better already," she says when he breaks the kiss and nestles her back against his shoulder. "And I haven't even had a martini yet. And I am definitely only allowed to have one. Hold me to that."
"Busy day tomorrow?" Steve guesses.
"Yes. He has a photo shoot with Pepper for French Vogue, then an interview with Men's Health. Then he flies to L.A. for the Leno thing." Tony's filming some kind of comedic bit with Jay Leno and his cars. Organizing it has been a giant hassle, to hear Darcy tell it. "The marketing guy had a few questions about the presentation and the choreographer needs to know how many fog machines she needs to work around. But I'll worry about that tomorrow. Tell me about your day."
Darcy probably doesn't want to talk about work anymore. That's fine with Steve.
"Well, Hulk got tossed into a tanker truck that turned out to be full of honey," he tells her. "And then a lady's dog started licking him, and he tried to pet it." Darcy's already laughing, and he hasn't even gotten to the best part yet. "When Tony tried to unstick the dog, it bit his suit and broke a tooth, so now Tony has to pay for a dog dentist and Bruce has to speak at the lady's son's preschool graduation ceremony."
"Please tell me there are pictures," she says. "Please."
"Of course," he says, and reaches into his pocket for his phone. "You can probably count on that bonus."
"Awesome," Darcy says, and squeezes his leg again.
Steve spends a lot of time doing heroic things that make the world a better place, but nothing makes him feel as good as making Darcy laugh when she's had a rough day.
~*~
The Avengers get another award, and Steve and Darcy go on another Not Date. This time her dress is a deep burgundy color, and Steve buys her a chunky black and silver necklace that costs more than he earned in all of 1943.
There's more drinking afterward, as usual, but they go to a dark and noisy bar to do it, because Tony insists. They're dressed way too nicely, and are also the Avengers, so even in a place as jaded as New York they attract some attention when they descend on the booths at the back of the place. Someone orders two entire bottles of tequila, and several trays loaded with teetering haystacks of onion rings, because the food tonight was even worse than usual. Steve gets a beer, because he likes the taste of it with the onion rings.
He gets into a conversation about baseball with Agent Coulson, who has a frankly scary level of recall when it comes to baseball stats, and it's pretty interesting. The game really has changed a lot since Steve's time, just like everything else. It isn't until Coulson slips out of the booth and leaves him alone that he notices Darcy is at the bar talking to a guy Steve doesn't know.
He's one of those oily Wall Street types with the crispy hair and a Bluetooth permanently stuck in his ear, and he is absolutely hitting on Darcy. As Steve watches, the guy touches her on the shoulder and smiles at her. Darcy smiles back and laughs at something he says. Steve is certain Darcy does not like oily Wall Street types, but he's finding it hard to trust his judgment at the moment.
He's already half out of the booth when suddenly Tony's there, face grim, pushing him back down with a firm hand. Without the Iron Man suit, Tony's no match for Steve, and they both know it, but Tony says, "You're about to make a big mistake," and that brings Steve back to reality.
He lets Tony shove him back into his seat, and reluctantly slides over a little when Tony flicks a hand at him. The oily guy is still talking to Darcy. Tony shoves at Steve's shoulder again, until Steve finally makes enough room for him to sit down, trapping Steve in the booth.
Tony sets his drink down, smiles at him as if they're doing nothing but having a friendly conversation, and says, "Don't look over there."
It's almost impossible to not look, but Tony taps his finger on the rim of Steve's beer glass and Steve's eyes automatically snap toward the motion. Now all he has to do is not look back over there. He closes his hand around the sweaty glass, fingers clenched so tight they squeak.
"Atta boy," Tony says, still smiling. "Relax. Darcy has better than taste than that."
"I know," Steve says, but he feels sick inside, like all his guts are squirming around. This is the first time he's been confronted with the worst of what being fuddies means-he has no say in what she does, and he can't even speak up, because he agreed to this, and besides then everyone else might figure out what they're doing, which would break another rule.
He hates all the stupid rules, every one of them. She could take some guy home with her any time she wanted, do all the things she's been doing with Steve, and he'd have no right to protest. He'd even have to act like it's okay. It's not okay at all.
"Wow, this is worse than I thought," Tony says, looking uncharacteristically concerned. "You need to do something about this, Rogers. You're going to make yourself crazy."
"I know," Steve says gloomily, and pushes his beer away. He feels a little more in control now. "What's happening over there?" he asks. He feels pathetic, but he can't help himself.
Tony casually looks over his shoulder and winks at Pepper, as if that's what he intended to do, and then turns back toward Steve. "I think she gave him the brush-off. She's talking to Bruce now."
Steve's relief is immediate, but short-lived, because it's clear he has an even bigger problem on his hands, and it's one he can't avoid any longer.
Up until now he's only been partly honest with himself about what he's doing with Darcy and how he feels about her. Seeing someone else express interest in her, and knowing he's powerless to do anything about it, has left him little place to hide from his feelings.
And now he can't hide them from Tony, either, so it probably won't be long before he can't hide them from the others, too. And eventually, from Darcy herself.
~*~
The next time Steve makes his way to her apartment, it's with a growing sense of dread, but he's determined to quit avoiding the issue. It's time to let Darcy go.
He plans to say something to her right away, but instead he kisses her, desperate and sad, and they end up in bed. He moves inside her for a long time, propped up over her on his forearms, cradling her head in his hands so he can kiss her over and over again, breathe in every whispered plea for more. When they're done, he slides down the bed and opens her knees, presses his mouth to the soft skin at the top of her thigh before making his way to the center of her. He's as gentle as possible, knowing how sensitive she is now, slowly coaxing a long, rolling orgasm out of her.
He spoons up behind her afterward, and her fingers twine with his where his arm is curled around her waist. "Mmm. That was nice," she says.
"Yeah, it was," he manages to say. He tries not to think about it being the last time. She falls asleep for a while, but he doesn't. He holds her in the dark and wishes things were different.
Steve feels her breathing change when she wakes up, and pulls her a little closer, gathering his courage. Before he can get his words in order, she arches her back and rubs the curve of her backside against him in invitation, and his body responds, as it always does, but he knows he has to stop now. He could keep doing this forever: just one last time, and one more last time, and another. That's how two months have already passed. That's how a year has already passed.
"I think it's time to stop doing this," he says, mouth moving against the back of her head. He doesn't elaborate. That's one of the rules: either one of them can break it off, no questions asked, at any time. And he'd rather not explain why.
"Sure, no problem," she says immediately, her voice light. She's already put a couple of inches of space between them, as soon as he said the words. The hope Steve hadn't even realized he was holding onto evaporates. She's not going to argue with him, or try to change his mind. They're done.
She doesn't turn over when he reluctantly pulls away. She doesn't look at him at all, in fact, until they're dressed and standing at her door. There are no goodbye kisses, no pinches, no swats, nothing. He says, "I'll see you tomorrow," and she smiles at him, and says, "Yep, see you then," and closes the door behind him.
He walks down the stairs a lot more slowly than usual, finding he has to force himself to take each and every step that leads him away from her apartment forever. It's one of the hardest things he's ever done, lifting his feet one at a time, over and over again. They feel like they're made of lead. It feels like his whole body is made of lead. Mostly his heart.
~*~
He doesn't see her the next day, though, or the day after that. It's cowardly, and he's not proud of it, but he can't make himself talk to her, or even be in the same room with her. It'll get better, he knows, with time. He just needs to wait a bit, let the sting go away a little first. Jarvis makes it easy to avoid her. If anyone notices he's suddenly not around when Darcy is, they don't mention it. Not even Tony mentions it.
It's only then, with a lot of extra time and solitude suddenly on his hands, that he faces what a truly crappy situation he's gotten himself into. He and Darcy will have to see each other all the time, plus now he's lost-at least temporarily-his close friend, and the person who went to all the boring functions with him, as well as the sex, and the talks on the couch and the pizza in the kitchen, and someone to touch him with gentle hands when he gets home from fighting people who want to kill him.
Now he has nothing, just like Tony predicted, though it's by his own choice.
He thinks maybe he made the wrong choice.
~*~
The Avengers have a really awful three days where they're fighting crime all over the place, and getting their butts kicked every time they do it. Tony gets hurt, Natasha gets hurt and won't admit it, Thor actually gets knocked unconscious, and that's just the first day. The bad guys get away, and then there are more bad guys, and then Hulk loses it and runs off into a forest in Vermont and no one can find him for two hours. The last thing that happens is one of the bad guys yanks one of Clint's arrows out of her dead accomplice and stabs Steve through the shoulder with it.
After it's all over and the SHIELD docs let him go, Steve drags himself home, feeling dispirited, and hurting a lot more than he's used to; even his accelerated healing can't keep up with the punishment his body has taken the last few days. As he gingerly strips down to his underwear and settles on his bed, he thinks wistfully of Darcy, and how much he misses her, and how much he would love to see her right now. That only seems to make him feel worse.
It takes him a long time to get comfortable, because something in his shoulder pulls, no matter which way he positions himself, and he finally ends up lying on his good side and curling his injured arm carefully over his ribs. He's just about to doze off when someone knocks on his door, and he feels unaccountably irritated. Steve's not one for self-pity, but he'd really like to just be alone right now to lick his wounds, both physical and mental.
Too exhausted to bother getting up, he calls out for the visitor to come in, dropping his guard just this once. That turns out to be a bad call, because his visitor is Darcy. No drop-ins allowed, he thinks immediately, and then wonders if the rules even apply anymore. They probably have a whole new set of rules to follow, and he doesn't even know what they are.
He tries to sit up, aware he's nearly naked and they don't do that together anymore, but moving hurts. By then she's already there next to him, sitting down on the bed in the space made by the curve of his body. He eases back down onto the pillow, trying not to grimace too much.
"Hey," she says softly. She doesn't call him "handsome." Steve's not sure if it's that or simply the familiar sound of her voice that twists his stomach in a knot.
"Hi, Darcy."
"I thought you might need some ice cream," she says, hefting the bowl in her hands. It has two spoons sticking out of it and smells minty. "Are you okay?" Her eyes drift over the bandage looped around his chest and up over shoulder.
"I will be," he says. He doesn't even try to smile at her. He can't make himself do it; seeing her is sapping the last reserves of his strength. She looks beautiful, as always, even in a T-shirt with a hole in it and mismatched socks. Maybe especially in those things, because they're what he's seen her wear at home, when it was just the two of them, laughing and cuddling.
Neither of them says anything else right away. She looks upset, which seems strange; he's used to her smiling when she's around him. She sets the bowl down on the nightstand and reaches out and pushes his hair back off his forehead, gently smoothing it into place. It's a gesture he recognizes, something she's done dozens of times, but never while looking this sad, and never while he was feeling this awful.
He's weak, he knows it, but he can't bring himself to care, or to fight it. As soon as he opens his arms, wincing a little at the pain in his shoulder, she comes down into them without hesitation, gently making a little spoon in front of him. She's careful not to jostle him as she settles her head on the biceps of his good arm. For a moment he has to squeeze his eyes shut and steady his breathing when he feels her against him, familiar and comforting. He needed her and she came.
Steve wishes it could be like this always, and wants it now more than ever, so he hides his face in her hair and holds on as tight as he can with his bad arm. He holds on to everything he feels but shouldn't, and everything he wants to say but can't. He's already made a huge mess of this whole thing; he won't make it worse if he can help it.
Instead, he says her name, tentatively, through a throat that feels raw and tight, but that's as far as he gets in his intended thanks. Her fingers thread through his, and he feels her soft mouth brush against his knuckles, a gentle kiss, and she says, "Go to sleep. I'm here," and his heart breaks in two.
~*~
It's nearly dark when he wakes up, the gray light of dusk filling the room. His shoulder feels a lot better and his bruises look mostly gone. Darcy is still there, clutching his good arm. He lets himself have a few more seconds, pressing his face into her hair and just taking her in; he hadn't realized how much he missed the smell of her. Then he marshals his resolve and makes himself slide his arm out from under her so he can roll onto his back and put some distance between them. He shouldn't have done this, because it will set him back days, maybe weeks, in his efforts to get over her.
As soon as he settles onto the bed she turns over to face him, slowly, so as not to bump into him, and carefully puts her arm across his middle, easing closer until she can rest her chin on his chest. His good arm wraps itself back around her shoulders before he can stop himself.
Her hair is loose, curling around her neck, down over her shoulder, tickling his bare skin. He's seen her like this plenty of times, but never in his own bed. And never will again, ever, anywhere. He feels unbearably sad.
She traces a small circle over his heart with the tip of her finger. "Why did you break it off?" she asks, with no warning at all. He's completely unprepared for the question.
"I thought I didn't have to-" he starts to protest.
She presses her finger to his mouth, shushing him. "I know I'm not supposed to ask, and you don't have to tell me, if you don't want to. But it seems like maybe it's bumming you out a little, so I don't get why you did it."
This will be the final humiliation, telling her why. The thought is so unpleasant that he's tempted to lie, and he rarely lies about anything, ever. But then he remembers the first time he went to her apartment, when he confessed he'd never been with a woman before. She doesn't judge him, or laugh at him, and never has. She deserves to know the truth.
"I broke one of the rules," he admits, with great difficulty.
He hopes that answer will suffice, but she tilts her head and chews on her lip for a second, then asks, "Which one?"
"The one about-feelings," he says. His face feels immovable, expressionless. "I think I broke it a long time ago," he confesses, though he's only recently admitted it to himself. He liked her long before that first Not Date, where he gave her a ladybug and kissed her outside her door. He's probably always liked her more than he should.
All this time he's thought agreeing to be fuddies with her was some weird anomaly, some kind of out-of-character, throw-caution-to-the-wind thing on his part. But it wasn't. It wasn't at all. He's wanted more than she wanted to give him this whole time.
He'd rather not tell her any of that.
"Come here," she says, and cups his cheek with her hand, drawing him closer. She kisses him, a tender little thing, like the first one so long ago. And like that first time, Steve's body just does what it wants. His arm tightens around her and his mouth opens for her. They're not supposed to kiss anymore.
When she pulls back, she's smiling at him. He doesn't understand what's happening at all.
She bumps her nose against his, and says, "That's good to know, because I broke that rule, too."
Steve could swear his heart literally stutters in his chest. She doesn't mean…does she? "You did?" he asks. He almost winces at how hopeful he sounds.
"Mmm hmm," she says. Her smile's even bigger now. Bright and open, radiating happiness. "I broke it a lot. It's very, very broken."
"Oh, thank God," he says, before he can stop himself, pulling her into an awkward, crushing hug. He holds her so tightly his arm starts to shake, and she makes a sound of discomfort. Steve rarely forgets how strong he is, but this has done it.
"Sorry," he says immediately, and loosens his grip a little, but not too much. "I just…" He doesn't know how to finish that sentence.
"So," Darcy says, looking up at him from beneath her eyelashes. "You wanna be my boyfriend, Captain Rogers?"
He feels how huge his grin is, like his face is going to crack in two, but he can't rein it in even a little bit. "Yeah, I do," he says. "I really, really do." He kisses her again, confident of his welcome this time, and it goes on for a while, until they're both breathing a little heavily.
"It's too bad you're hurt," Darcy sighs, when they break apart. "We could celebrate."
"I'm not that hurt," he says immediately. Which is absolutely true. "You can be on top." There's no way she can miss how interested he is in celebrating; he's practically naked.
That makes her laugh, and he can't help but laugh, too. He feels so unbelievably happy, and has to pull her in for another kiss before she finally squirms out of reach and hops off the bed. She strips out of her clothes in seconds, then helps him when he struggles to get his underwear off with one hand.
"As long as we're breaking all the rules," she says as she hovers over him on all fours, "we can probably ditch the condoms."
"I'd like that a lot," he says. He knows this is kind of a big deal, and it's something he would probably never have suggested on his own, even though he knows Darcy takes those pills; she told him that when they started. "If you're sure."
"We've been together long enough," Darcy shrugs. "And I haven't been with anyone else. Have you?"
"Of course not," he says, and that's one more nagging worry he didn't want to admit to, gone for good. She wasn't with anyone else while they were fuddies.
He props himself up on some pillows so he's almost sitting up, because he wants to be able to reach with his injured arm. She climbs astride his hips and sinks down on him without any preliminaries, and he tightens his arm around her and gasps into her neck when he feels how hot and slick she is inside, the shock of it sending goose bumps scattering down his arms.
"Is this okay?" she asks as she starts to move, and Steve knows she means his shoulder, but he shivers at the feel of her, so wet, so warm, and can only nod his head and moan. He had no idea it would feel like this, even though he's touched her there before, with his fingers and his tongue. It's so good. So very, very good.
After that, it gets fast and intense. Maybe because they've been apart, maybe because they don't have to hide anything from each other anymore. Darcy grabs onto the headboard and rides him, and he snaps his hips up to meet her as best he can.
It doesn't take long before he hears the helpless little sounds she makes when the end is near. "God, you feel so good," she moans. "I'm really close."
"Me, too. Don't stop," he says, urging her a little faster, feeling his orgasm bearing down on him. The next thing she says is his name, a gasping cry as she furiously works herself on him, and he manages to hang on a few more seconds until he's sure she's done, before he lifts his hips one last time and lets himself come.
This time he doesn't have to pull out of her and deal with the condom when they're done, so they kiss for little bit while he rubs her with his thumb, lightly tracing a slick circle until they start again. They're in no hurry now, and he watches her ride him slowly, letting it build until her thighs are shaking and the hair at the nape of her neck is damp under his fingers.
Steve's not much of a talker, but he can't seem to stop himself now, when she's moving on him so slow and easy. "I missed you," he pants into her shoulder as she rocks gently in his lap. He'd always avoided saying things like that before, afraid of getting too close to the "no feelings" rule, but now he can say whatever he wants. "I missed you so much, and I wanted this for so long, but I thought you didn't."
"I missed you, too," she murmurs against his ear. "I wanted this, too." He holds her tight and kisses her neck, her nipples, the inviting space between her breasts where he once worked himself until he spilled across the pale skin of her throat. He's greedy to touch her, to put his mouth on her, after thinking he never would again.
At the end she's barely moving, grinding down on him, and he's got his fingers dug into the soft swell of her hip, watching her face as she comes apart around him, pulling him with her.
He collapses back onto the pillows, which are long since strewn all over the place, and he urges her down onto his chest, shushing her when she starts to protest about his shoulder. He feels fine. He feels fantastic.
They both groan when she moves enough for him to slide out of her. "That was great," she mumbles, flapping a hand weakly against his face. "We should do that again in a little bit."
"I think that's pretty likely," he says, laughing. He catches one of her fingers in his teeth and gives it a tug.
They cuddle for a few minutes, not saying much, and then take turns in the bathroom. Steve checks his shoulder and finds the wound is closed, so he pulls off the bandage. On his way back to Darcy he has to stop for a second and just look at her, there in his bed. He never thought he'd have this, or a hundred other things he's wanted so desperately. He dives under the blankets with her and gathers her close.
"Stay here tonight. Sleep in my bed," he says between kisses. He has plans for her in the morning, things he's been thinking about for months. And tomorrow is pancake day, too. They can walk into the kitchen together and not have to hide anything from anyone.
"Mmmm," Darcy hums drowsily into his mouth. "Definitely planning to sleep here a lot. I'm not letting you get away again."
"Me neither," Steve says fervently, sliding one of his legs between hers. He's going to buy her all the gifts he wants, and hold her hand when they go for walks, and have all the feelings he wants without hiding them from anyone. The next time they all go to some hoity-toity function, she can sit on his lap when everyone gets drunk on the patio afterward, and he can talk about her with his friends the way Tony talks about Pepper, and Bruce talks about Betty. He can introduce her to everyone as his girlfriend. He can do a thousand little things that his friends take for granted, but are a whole new world to Steve.
But right now he has something else he's wanted to do for a very long time. Something he wants her to know, words he's been holding in his heart for months.
"Darcy," he says softly.
She stirs in his arms and opens her eyes. She's so beautiful. When she touches his face she smiles, and says, "Hi, handsome."
He leans down and whispers in her ear.
The End
~*~
Darcy's Rules of Being a Fuddy
1. Always call or text before coming over.
2. No public displays of affection.
3. Condoms are mandatory.
4. No one else can know.
5. Never spend the night.
6. No holiday gifts.
7. Anyone can call it quits at any time, no explanation necessary.
8. No feelings.
9. In the case of Steve Rogers, none of the above apply. <3 <3
Notes:
eiirene made a beautiful piece of art! (Follow link to see full size in the Tumblr post!)
[Image Description: Steve and Darcy and the ladybug necklace.]
Steve hears the sigh as he walks past the rec room, because it's hard to miss a Hulk-sized sigh. He backtracks enough to stick his head in the door, and sees Hulk hunched on the couch, chin propped on his hands. As Steve watches, he sighs again.
A quick check of his watch confirms it's been over four hours since they got home from their last mission, which is on the outside of Bruce's reversion period. Every once in a while he gets stuck, usually because something is bothering him. So far he's always come out of it within a day or two, and no one really worries about it much, because he isn't a danger to anyone anymore. Hulk loves everyone in the house now. Maybe a little too much sometimes, as Clint's ribs can attest.
Steve's just about to say something, ask what's wrong, when Tony and Darcy come around the corner. Tony's waving his hands around and rambling nonsense that probably makes some kind of sense if you can parse it, while Darcy follows along behind him, carefully out of accidental poking range. Her arms are loaded down with bound reports and file folders, and she's flicking through something on her tablet and saying things like, "Right, got it. Uh huh. Whatever you say, Tony." She always sounds a little like she's mocking Tony when she does that, but he doesn't seem to care.
As they pass the doorway Tony raises an eyebrow at Steve, then sees Hulk and stops short. Darcy, focused on her tablet, walks right into his back.
"Hey, a little warning next time!" Darcy says, glaring at him as she straightens her glasses.
Tony pays no attention to her. "What's going on?" he asks Steve as he takes in the scene in the rec room. "Someone let him watch Lilo & Stitch again?"
"I'm not sure," Steve says. "I just found him." Hulk sighs again.
Darcy peeks around Tony's shoulder and says, "Oh, poor thing," which isn't something a lot of people say about Hulk. She brushes past Steve and Tony, and heads straight for the couch. It's the special reinforced one, the only one Hulk can sit on. She pauses to carefully set everything in her arms, plus her phone, down on a nearby table, because they've all learned Hulk can break things without meaning to, and that'll only make him feel worse.
Expensive electronics safely stashed, Darcy sits down next to Hulk, looking hilariously tiny in comparison, and asks, "What's the matter, big guy?"
"Hulk sad," Hulk says glumly, as if that weren't already obvious.
"Sir, Director Fury is on the line for you," Jarvis says suddenly, startling the crap out of Steve. He loves Jarvis, he really does, but he's starting to think Jarvis enjoys making him jump.
Tony pulls his phone out of his pocket. "Darce, come see me when the therapy session is over," he says, and then walks away, phone to his ear.
Steve's not sure if he should stay or go, but Darcy meets his eyes and tips her head to let him know he should come in, so he walks over and squeezes into what little space is left on Hulk's other side.
"You wanna talk about it?" Darcy asks Hulk. Sometimes he needs a little coaxing to fess up to what's bugging him.
"Hulk not a freak," he says, and opens one hand. In the center of his big green palm is a jagged rock the size of an egg.
"Oh, boy," Steve says, ashamed that he didn't realize.
Darcy leans forward, craning her neck so she can see Steve around Hulk's massive bulk. "What is that?" she asks him.
Steve feels a little ill. "Some people threw things at him today, as we were leaving. They said some things, too."
Hulk had handled it well, actually, simply snarling as he turned away. The rest of the Avengers hadn't been so sanguine. Thor had given the guys-a group of Long Island smartasses-the most regal scolding of their lives while Clint, Steve, and Tony stood behind him and glared. Natasha hadn't said anything, but had unnerved them all by perching on Hulk's shoulder and staring fixedly at them as she reloaded her guns.
Once the tongue-lashing was over and the smartasses had skulked away, Steve hadn't given it another thought. He sometimes forgets that Hulk's a lot more vulnerable on the inside than he is on the outside. Just like the rest of the Avengers.
Steve gives Darcy an abbreviated version of what happened, not wanting either himself or Hulk to relive it. The look on Darcy's face accurately reflects what Steve had felt at the time. She's upset and angry. "Why would they do that? He was helping."
"They were just...being jerks," he says, which is the simplest answer. It's a universal constant, and he of all people knows this. "They're just jerks, Hulk. They aren't half as brave as you are."
Darcy picks up the thread immediately. "That's right. They probably don't help people like you do. And they definitely don't get to live in a house with a bunch of awesome people like Steve and Thor, right?" She reaches up and ruffles his hair, and Hulk dips his head toward her and closes his eyes, like a dog getting its ears scratched. Steve thinks it's one of the sweetest things he's ever seen.
"Hulk have friends," Hulk rumbles as he loops an arm around Darcy and pulls her into a hug. She nearly disappears into his arms. Steve hopes she can breathe.
"That's right, we're all friends," Steve says, and the next thing he knows, he's being pulled into a hug, too, and squished against Hulk's massive chest next to Darcy. Her glasses are crooked again, and her face is pink with laughter and maybe from being squeezed a little too hard. She's the best, and Steve adores her so much right then he can barely stand it.
Hulk mashes them together a little more, and Steve risks a quick kiss, their first one in the house since the night they agreed to be fuddies, but there's no one to see them here, safe and hidden in Hulk's arms. She kisses him back, and grins against his mouth, and then maybe it's more than just one kiss. Hulk's making a pleased rumbling sound that tickles as it vibrates through Steve's whole body.
"Okay, you think you can let go now?" Steve asks after another minute ticks by. Hulk's hugs are kind of sweaty.
When Hulk lets them go, Darcy and Steve are both a mess, and Steve thinks his cheeks are probably as red as Darcy's, and not just from being squeezed by Hulk. He tries to pat his hair back down and straighten his clothes as Darcy fixes her glasses. Hulk is still holding the rock.
"You know what?" Darcy says, after appearing to consider their options. "I bet Clint's fish would love that rock." Clint has an enormous three hundred gallon fish tank in his room, full of plants and miniature Easter Island heads and a little diving man that actually swims around. It has a single goldfish in it, named Clementine.
Hulk's face lights up at the suggestion. He loves Clementine. "Hulk give rock to Clementine," he says, and heaves himself up off the couch and lumbers out of the room while Steve's still trying to tuck his shirt back into his pants; at least it didn't get torn this time.
Clint is shirtless and toweling his hair when he opens his door. As Steve explains the point of their visit-Clint's eyes narrow briefly when he's reminded of what happened earlier-it dawns on him that he's standing there obviously just out of the shower, but the shower is still running. Then Steve notices the bed is unmade, and a pair of boots he recognizes as Natasha's are part of the pile of clothing on the floor. And that purple bra probably isn't Clint's either.
"Actually…we can come back," Steve says, but Clint starts shaking his head before Steve even gets all the words out.
"C'mon in, buddy," he says to Hulk. "I was just thinking Clementine needed something new to look at."
"Are you sure?" Steve asks, as Hulk nearly flattens him against the doorframe as he pushes past him into the room. Clint doesn't bother to answer, which isn't a surprise. Once Clint's stated his opinion, he doesn't waste time reiterating it. He just stands back and motions Steve and Darcy in, too. So they all tromp into Clint's room and gather around the tank just as the shower stops.
"Hang on," Clint says, as he digs some clothing out a drawer. He opens the bathroom door for a second and tosses the clothes in, then tugs a T-shirt over his head as he joins them at the fish tank. "She'll be out in a minute," he says.
Steve just nods, embarrassed they interrupted them during a private moment, but also a little jealous. Clint and Natasha can be together right here in the house, and they don't have to hide what they're doing. Steve very carefully does not look at Darcy, afraid his face will give too much away.
They stand around admiring Clementine's many decorations until Natasha joins them at the tank, fully dressed, hair wet. Darcy gives her an abbreviated version of the reason for their visit. Natasha, who has the softest of all the soft spots in the house for Hulk, loops her arm around one of his big green ones and leans against it as Clint opens the top of the tank.
Hulk pokes at the diving man for a bit, his favorite thing in the tank after Clementine himself, and then they all watch in respectful silence as Hulk gently and solemnly drops the rock into the tank. It sends up a tiny cloud of sand when it lands. Clementine swims over almost immediately to investigate, which pleases Hulk to no end.
Everyone admires the rock for a bit, and also Clementine's intelligence, as explained to them by Clint. Eventually Clementine loses interest and swims away, disappearing into the maze of plants and other adornments in his tank.
"Okay, everyone!" Steve says, clapping his hands together. "Time to give Clint his room back." He hasn't forgotten they interrupted him and Natasha.
Darcy gives Hulk what would be a shoulder bump but is more of a shoulder-to-elbow bump on the big guy. Steve wonders if he even feels it. "Hey, you need some ice cream?" she asks, bumping him again.
That breaks Hulk's Clementine watching-induced trance. "Ice cream," Hulk rumbles, sounding pleased, and he's out the door and gone. Once Hulk decides he's going to do something, he does it. Steve and Darcy hurry to catch up, because leaving Hulk alone in the kitchen is never a good idea. He once ate an entire restaurant-sized jar of Greek olives.
"I could use some ice cream, too," Natasha says, and Clint starts hunting around for his shoes, so it looks like everyone's having some.
After a quick trip to the kitchen they return to the rec room, where Hulk takes his usual place on the Hulk couch. Clint slouches into a big recliner with his ice cream sandwich already starting to drip down his fingers, and Natasha sits on the arm of the chair with her feet tucked between his legs, relaxed and easy with each other. Clint says something that makes her laugh, and she feeds him a spoonful of whatever ice cream is in her bowl, something chocolately.
It's skirting the edges of rule-breaking, but Steve sits next to Darcy, taking advantage of the fact that Hulk occupies most of the couch and they're kind of squished together. She doesn't seem to mind, and even flings one leg over his knee and starts swinging her foot as they eat and talk. This is a first, either of them displaying this much closeness and familiarity in front of other people.
It lasts a few happy minutes before Darcy's phone crows at her from the table. She hands Steve her empty bowl and gets up to check it, then gathers up her files and her tablet. Tony must need something, Steve realizes, and then remembers this is actually a work day for her. She probably had all kinds of stuff piling up while she was doing this; Steve's seen her email inbox and it's frightening. But she took the time to do this anyway, because Hulk was upset.
Next to Steve, Hulk is now humming happily as he slowly works his way through a gallon carton of strawberry with a wooden mixing spoon. He's actually a very fastidious eater.
"I gotta run," Darcy says, sounding apologetic. "We have to go over this week's lawsuits." One of the more surprising things Steve has learned about Tony is that at any given time he is being sued by half a dozen people who claim he stole their ideas. So far no one has been able to prove that's true. It's doesn't seem to bother Tony very much.
"Hey, thanks for hanging out," Clint says, as Natasha nods, mouth full of ice cream. "And taking care of stuff," he adds, glancing over at Hulk.
"No problem," Darcy says. She pauses on her way out to give Hulk a one-armed hug. He doesn't stop eating, but does tip his cheek down for a kiss, as Steve sits there next to him, trying not to feel envious.
"You feel better?" Steve asks him, as Darcy walks away, though the answer is obvious.
Hulk nods as he licks the back of the spoon. His taste buds are really dark green, Steve notices. "Darcy make Hulk feel better."
"Yeah," Steve agrees, as Darcy looks back over her shoulder and gives them all a little wave before she's gone. "Me, too."
~*~
Tony and Pepper are out of town, vacationing someplace warm, but Pepper sends him a text that says, Darcy is sick please check on her if you can, so Steve sends Darcy a text, and then a few hours later sends another one when he gets no response. Another hour later, despite the fact that he's spent most of it staring at his phone and willing it to chirp at him, he still has not received anything from her, which is unheard of when it comes to Darcy. Finally, with rising panic, he calls her.
She sounds groggy and miserable when she answers the phone, but agrees to let Steve come over after he reminds her he can't catch whatever she has. While he's getting his jacket, she texts him a request for cold medicine, and also some orange juice. Happy is already waiting with the car when Steve gets downstairs-Pepper texted him, too-and they head into the night full of grim determination. When Pepper says jump, everyone asks how high.
Steve nearly buys out the whole drug store, because the array of medicines is overwhelming-shelves and shelves of them-and he's not even sure exactly what Darcy needs. He ends up grabbing a little of everything, and then they stop at his favorite deli for some chicken soup. Three blocks later, he makes Happy stop again, and buys a pint of ice cream, because that seems to be Darcy's cure for everything. Happy drops him off at the curb with orders to call when he's ready to come home.
Darcy answers the door with a blanket around her shoulders, bleary-eyed and slouchy, and shuffles back to the couch, leaving him to kick the door closed while trying not to drop anything. Her hair is a tangled mess and she's wearing two different colored socks. Steve wants to cover her whole face with kisses.
He puts some soup in a bowl, and then lets her dig through the bag from the drug store, belatedly embarrassed by how many things he bought. She laughs a little, though, which he's glad to see, even if it leads to coughing. After she drinks some Nyquil and eats some soup, she nestles in the crook of his arm and lets him push her hair back, kiss her hot forehead.
She dozes off after a while, and Steve gently eases down onto his back so he can settle her on his chest. He's not sure if he's comforting her or taking advantage, but he can't seem to make himself stop, so he gives into the temptation and holds onto her and thinks thoughts he's definitely not supposed to think, until he sleeps, too.
~*~
The next morning, Darcy doesn't say anything about the fact that Steve spent the night, but that may be because she feels even worse. He intends to spend the whole day doting on her, but he gets a summons from Fury and has to leave in a rush and spend a few hours rescuing some hostages from a group of very bad people who are all named after snakes.
That evening, he goes back to Darcy's with some more soup, plus a change of clothes and his toothbrush, just in case. He feels a little guilty about it-that's two rules broken now-but he'd be foolish to not take the opportunity to stay over again if she wants him to.
It does not go at all like the previous day. Darcy is surly and cross and does not want to be cuddled at all, and Steve can't seem to do anything right. He almost gives up and goes home so she can get some rest without him in the way, but when he suggests it she gets even surlier, so they watch a movie instead and Steve tries not to say anything that will get him in trouble.
Eventually, she inches over to sit next to him, and he cautiously puts his arm around her, holding his breath until she snuggles against him. She doesn't feel as feverish anymore, but she's clearly still miserable.
"You don't have to do all this, you know," she says, just when Steve is starting to wonder if she's fallen asleep. "It's not like you're my boyfriend."
"I know," Steve says quickly, though his lungs feel so pinched he can barely draw breath to speak. When she finally does fall asleep, he carefully slips away from her and takes her forgotten soup back to the kitchen. He keeps his back to her while he rinses out the bowl, so he doesn't have to see her curled up on the couch, his to touch but not to have. He knows he isn't her boyfriend, never forgets it for a second, and he's not sure how much longer he can stand it.
~*~
Steve knows there's really only one really obvious choice for whom to go to with questions about sexual relationships, casual and otherwise, so he prepares himself to talk to the expert.
Tony is in his shop welding something when Steve finally works up the nerve to approach him. He waits out of the range of the sparks until Tony notices him and lifts the torch away. "I need to ask you something. Uh, confidentially," Steve says.
Tony takes one look at Steve's face and says, "Sure." He kills the torch and slides his goggles up onto the top of his head. He waits patiently-extremely patiently, for Tony-while Steve clears his throat and gathers his courage.
If Steve were wearing a tie, he'd tug on it, but he isn't, so he looks at the floor and scratches the back of his neck instead. "So I was wondering about-well, is it possible to go from being fuckbuddies with someone to being, you know, in a relationship?" He still hates that word, but he isn't sure Tony will know what a fuddy is, so he has no choice. He finally looks up at Tony, who doesn't seem surprised by the question at all. "Does that ever work?"
Tony crosses his arms and squints at Steve. "Is this about Darcy?"
Steve has a moment of absolute horror and panic, and only barely manages to not immediately deny it all and flee back upstairs. A third rule, smashed to pieces. None of their friends are supposed to know. "How do you know about Darcy?" he asks instead.
Tony snags a stool with his foot and rolls it over so he can sit on it. "Who else could it be?" he asks as he picks up an incomprehensible tangle of wires and goes to work on it with a pair of pliers. "I can't imagine you being anyone's fuckbuddy at all, really, so it would have to be someone you've known for a while, because you're one of those sensitive nice guy types-which some women love, so don't feel bad about that-and I know it's not Pepper or Jane or Betty, so that leaves Natasha or Darcy. If it were Natasha, you'd probably be limping a lot, even with the super healing thing, plus it looks like she and Clint are back on again. And you've been paying a lot of attention to Darcy lately." He frowns at the wires. "Who, by the way is my employee, so I hope you're not fucking her on my time."
Steve doesn't even know where to start with all that, so he addresses the most offensive part first. "We never did anything while she was work-"
"I was joking," Tony says, grinning at him before he goes back to fiddling with his wires. "You know how many assistants I've fucked on company time? My own and everyone else's?"
"Uh, no," Steve says. "But a lot, I guess?" He wishes Tony would quit saying "fuck."
"A lot," Tony says, looking pleased with himself.
"Okay," Steve says, not very comfortable with the turn this conversation has taken. He really just needed some advice.
"Anyway," Tony says, giving up on the wires. He spins on the stool to face Steve. "To answer your question, yes it can be done. I've never done it myself, mostly because I've never wanted to, but it's not impossible." Steve is momentarily encouraged by this, until Tony continues, "The problem is, if you bring it up and she says no, then you've screwed yourself, because if she's not interested, she'll probably break it off once she knows you're getting in a little too deep. So you run the risk of ending up with nothing."
Having nothing sounds even worse than having what they have now, despite how bittersweet it's turned out to be. Steve tries not to let on that the answer isn't what he wanted to hear. He just thanks Tony, who nods and says, "Anytime." He's back to his welding before Steve even gets up the stairs.
By the time he makes it back to his room, Steve's decided not to do anything rash, to take some time and think about it for a while. He won't stall around. He'll just give it some thought before making a decision.
So that's what he does. For two more months.
~*~
"I'm thinking you should let me buy you dinner," Darcy says, leaning against the door in the gym. She's got what Steve knows is a Stark corporate credit card held up between two fingers. This usually means she's had a particularly trying day and either Tony or Pepper told her to go out and spend some money on herself. "Someplace expensive."
"I'd be glad to," Steve puffs out, doing one last chin-up before he drops back down to the floor, arms burning. He gingerly flexes his fingers, which don't want to uncurl right away. He was up there a long time.
"Good, because I need a martini the size of your biceps," she tells him, as her eyes travel appreciatively up and down his body.
"That's a pretty big martini," he says, giving her a sly sideways glance as he grabs his towel and wipes his face. Flirty banter is actually not that hard when you really like the person you're bantering with, he's found. They're lucky his shirt is soaked with sweat, or he'd be tempted to kiss her right here in the house, and that would be against the rules.
Jarvis has a car waiting by the time Steve's showered and dressed. They walk out to the curb with a perfect two feet of distance between them, but as soon as the car door closes behind Steve, Darcy slides over and under his waiting arm. Her hand rests on his thigh as the car pulls out into traffic. The windows are blacked out, and the divider between them and the driver is up. They have a modicum of privacy here.
"That bad?" he asks, once they've pulled out into traffic and are crawling toward the restaurant. He knows there was a press conference today for Tony's company, which is why Darcy is dressed all in black; it's what she does when she has to deal with a lot of reporters. Steve doesn't think it makes her look particularly intimidating, but that's maybe because he knows her too well. Her hair is twisted into a knot on top of her head and she's wearing tall leather boots. Steve really likes the boots.
"He told the entire press conference about the nanotech," she says, leaning her head back on his arm and closing her eyes. "Even though he swore he wouldn't. But I knew he would, so I had the handouts with the specs ready."
This isn't surprising news--Tony is impulsive and prone to making big promises and saying things he's not supposed to say. But it's hard to hold it against him, because he almost always delivers on his promises, and the press loves his theatrics. And Darcy has learned to be ready for anything, like she was today. Steve never gets tired of hearing about Darcy outwitting him.
"You're the perfect antidote to sixteen hours with Tony," she says, squeezing his leg. She's wearing her ladybug bracelet, a matching piece to that first necklace he bought her. He got the bracelet for her when they went to a big fundraiser for Citymeals-on-Wheels.
"Am I?" Steve asks, amused. "Does that mean I'm boring?"
"Captain Rogers, you are far from boring," she replies, a little flirty, and Steve flashes back to the last time he was at her place, a little mini movie whizzing quickly across his brain before he makes himself pay attention again. "And you're way less high-maintenance, too."
"I would hope so," Steve laughs. Everyone is less high-maintenance than Tony, except maybe newborn infants. Tony expects the world-and his world in particular, which includes his company, Iron Man, and the Avengers-to revolve around him. In all fairness, the world often seems to be happy to do just that. And being around Tony can be invigorating, and Bruce is one of the people who seem to thrive on it, but at a certain point it tips over into exhausting. Darcy has the look of someone who has reached that tipping point.
Since he already knows back seats of blacked out cars don't count as public, he tips her face toward him with a finger on her chin and kisses her mouth, gentle and lingering.
"Mmmm. I feel better already," she says when he breaks the kiss and nestles her back against his shoulder. "And I haven't even had a martini yet. And I am definitely only allowed to have one. Hold me to that."
"Busy day tomorrow?" Steve guesses.
"Yes. He has a photo shoot with Pepper for French Vogue, then an interview with Men's Health. Then he flies to L.A. for the Leno thing." Tony's filming some kind of comedic bit with Jay Leno and his cars. Organizing it has been a giant hassle, to hear Darcy tell it. "The marketing guy had a few questions about the presentation and the choreographer needs to know how many fog machines she needs to work around. But I'll worry about that tomorrow. Tell me about your day."
Darcy probably doesn't want to talk about work anymore. That's fine with Steve.
"Well, Hulk got tossed into a tanker truck that turned out to be full of honey," he tells her. "And then a lady's dog started licking him, and he tried to pet it." Darcy's already laughing, and he hasn't even gotten to the best part yet. "When Tony tried to unstick the dog, it bit his suit and broke a tooth, so now Tony has to pay for a dog dentist and Bruce has to speak at the lady's son's preschool graduation ceremony."
"Please tell me there are pictures," she says. "Please."
"Of course," he says, and reaches into his pocket for his phone. "You can probably count on that bonus."
"Awesome," Darcy says, and squeezes his leg again.
Steve spends a lot of time doing heroic things that make the world a better place, but nothing makes him feel as good as making Darcy laugh when she's had a rough day.
~*~
The Avengers get another award, and Steve and Darcy go on another Not Date. This time her dress is a deep burgundy color, and Steve buys her a chunky black and silver necklace that costs more than he earned in all of 1943.
There's more drinking afterward, as usual, but they go to a dark and noisy bar to do it, because Tony insists. They're dressed way too nicely, and are also the Avengers, so even in a place as jaded as New York they attract some attention when they descend on the booths at the back of the place. Someone orders two entire bottles of tequila, and several trays loaded with teetering haystacks of onion rings, because the food tonight was even worse than usual. Steve gets a beer, because he likes the taste of it with the onion rings.
He gets into a conversation about baseball with Agent Coulson, who has a frankly scary level of recall when it comes to baseball stats, and it's pretty interesting. The game really has changed a lot since Steve's time, just like everything else. It isn't until Coulson slips out of the booth and leaves him alone that he notices Darcy is at the bar talking to a guy Steve doesn't know.
He's one of those oily Wall Street types with the crispy hair and a Bluetooth permanently stuck in his ear, and he is absolutely hitting on Darcy. As Steve watches, the guy touches her on the shoulder and smiles at her. Darcy smiles back and laughs at something he says. Steve is certain Darcy does not like oily Wall Street types, but he's finding it hard to trust his judgment at the moment.
He's already half out of the booth when suddenly Tony's there, face grim, pushing him back down with a firm hand. Without the Iron Man suit, Tony's no match for Steve, and they both know it, but Tony says, "You're about to make a big mistake," and that brings Steve back to reality.
He lets Tony shove him back into his seat, and reluctantly slides over a little when Tony flicks a hand at him. The oily guy is still talking to Darcy. Tony shoves at Steve's shoulder again, until Steve finally makes enough room for him to sit down, trapping Steve in the booth.
Tony sets his drink down, smiles at him as if they're doing nothing but having a friendly conversation, and says, "Don't look over there."
It's almost impossible to not look, but Tony taps his finger on the rim of Steve's beer glass and Steve's eyes automatically snap toward the motion. Now all he has to do is not look back over there. He closes his hand around the sweaty glass, fingers clenched so tight they squeak.
"Atta boy," Tony says, still smiling. "Relax. Darcy has better than taste than that."
"I know," Steve says, but he feels sick inside, like all his guts are squirming around. This is the first time he's been confronted with the worst of what being fuddies means-he has no say in what she does, and he can't even speak up, because he agreed to this, and besides then everyone else might figure out what they're doing, which would break another rule.
He hates all the stupid rules, every one of them. She could take some guy home with her any time she wanted, do all the things she's been doing with Steve, and he'd have no right to protest. He'd even have to act like it's okay. It's not okay at all.
"Wow, this is worse than I thought," Tony says, looking uncharacteristically concerned. "You need to do something about this, Rogers. You're going to make yourself crazy."
"I know," Steve says gloomily, and pushes his beer away. He feels a little more in control now. "What's happening over there?" he asks. He feels pathetic, but he can't help himself.
Tony casually looks over his shoulder and winks at Pepper, as if that's what he intended to do, and then turns back toward Steve. "I think she gave him the brush-off. She's talking to Bruce now."
Steve's relief is immediate, but short-lived, because it's clear he has an even bigger problem on his hands, and it's one he can't avoid any longer.
Up until now he's only been partly honest with himself about what he's doing with Darcy and how he feels about her. Seeing someone else express interest in her, and knowing he's powerless to do anything about it, has left him little place to hide from his feelings.
And now he can't hide them from Tony, either, so it probably won't be long before he can't hide them from the others, too. And eventually, from Darcy herself.
~*~
The next time Steve makes his way to her apartment, it's with a growing sense of dread, but he's determined to quit avoiding the issue. It's time to let Darcy go.
He plans to say something to her right away, but instead he kisses her, desperate and sad, and they end up in bed. He moves inside her for a long time, propped up over her on his forearms, cradling her head in his hands so he can kiss her over and over again, breathe in every whispered plea for more. When they're done, he slides down the bed and opens her knees, presses his mouth to the soft skin at the top of her thigh before making his way to the center of her. He's as gentle as possible, knowing how sensitive she is now, slowly coaxing a long, rolling orgasm out of her.
He spoons up behind her afterward, and her fingers twine with his where his arm is curled around her waist. "Mmm. That was nice," she says.
"Yeah, it was," he manages to say. He tries not to think about it being the last time. She falls asleep for a while, but he doesn't. He holds her in the dark and wishes things were different.
Steve feels her breathing change when she wakes up, and pulls her a little closer, gathering his courage. Before he can get his words in order, she arches her back and rubs the curve of her backside against him in invitation, and his body responds, as it always does, but he knows he has to stop now. He could keep doing this forever: just one last time, and one more last time, and another. That's how two months have already passed. That's how a year has already passed.
"I think it's time to stop doing this," he says, mouth moving against the back of her head. He doesn't elaborate. That's one of the rules: either one of them can break it off, no questions asked, at any time. And he'd rather not explain why.
"Sure, no problem," she says immediately, her voice light. She's already put a couple of inches of space between them, as soon as he said the words. The hope Steve hadn't even realized he was holding onto evaporates. She's not going to argue with him, or try to change his mind. They're done.
She doesn't turn over when he reluctantly pulls away. She doesn't look at him at all, in fact, until they're dressed and standing at her door. There are no goodbye kisses, no pinches, no swats, nothing. He says, "I'll see you tomorrow," and she smiles at him, and says, "Yep, see you then," and closes the door behind him.
He walks down the stairs a lot more slowly than usual, finding he has to force himself to take each and every step that leads him away from her apartment forever. It's one of the hardest things he's ever done, lifting his feet one at a time, over and over again. They feel like they're made of lead. It feels like his whole body is made of lead. Mostly his heart.
~*~
He doesn't see her the next day, though, or the day after that. It's cowardly, and he's not proud of it, but he can't make himself talk to her, or even be in the same room with her. It'll get better, he knows, with time. He just needs to wait a bit, let the sting go away a little first. Jarvis makes it easy to avoid her. If anyone notices he's suddenly not around when Darcy is, they don't mention it. Not even Tony mentions it.
It's only then, with a lot of extra time and solitude suddenly on his hands, that he faces what a truly crappy situation he's gotten himself into. He and Darcy will have to see each other all the time, plus now he's lost-at least temporarily-his close friend, and the person who went to all the boring functions with him, as well as the sex, and the talks on the couch and the pizza in the kitchen, and someone to touch him with gentle hands when he gets home from fighting people who want to kill him.
Now he has nothing, just like Tony predicted, though it's by his own choice.
He thinks maybe he made the wrong choice.
~*~
The Avengers have a really awful three days where they're fighting crime all over the place, and getting their butts kicked every time they do it. Tony gets hurt, Natasha gets hurt and won't admit it, Thor actually gets knocked unconscious, and that's just the first day. The bad guys get away, and then there are more bad guys, and then Hulk loses it and runs off into a forest in Vermont and no one can find him for two hours. The last thing that happens is one of the bad guys yanks one of Clint's arrows out of her dead accomplice and stabs Steve through the shoulder with it.
After it's all over and the SHIELD docs let him go, Steve drags himself home, feeling dispirited, and hurting a lot more than he's used to; even his accelerated healing can't keep up with the punishment his body has taken the last few days. As he gingerly strips down to his underwear and settles on his bed, he thinks wistfully of Darcy, and how much he misses her, and how much he would love to see her right now. That only seems to make him feel worse.
It takes him a long time to get comfortable, because something in his shoulder pulls, no matter which way he positions himself, and he finally ends up lying on his good side and curling his injured arm carefully over his ribs. He's just about to doze off when someone knocks on his door, and he feels unaccountably irritated. Steve's not one for self-pity, but he'd really like to just be alone right now to lick his wounds, both physical and mental.
Too exhausted to bother getting up, he calls out for the visitor to come in, dropping his guard just this once. That turns out to be a bad call, because his visitor is Darcy. No drop-ins allowed, he thinks immediately, and then wonders if the rules even apply anymore. They probably have a whole new set of rules to follow, and he doesn't even know what they are.
He tries to sit up, aware he's nearly naked and they don't do that together anymore, but moving hurts. By then she's already there next to him, sitting down on the bed in the space made by the curve of his body. He eases back down onto the pillow, trying not to grimace too much.
"Hey," she says softly. She doesn't call him "handsome." Steve's not sure if it's that or simply the familiar sound of her voice that twists his stomach in a knot.
"Hi, Darcy."
"I thought you might need some ice cream," she says, hefting the bowl in her hands. It has two spoons sticking out of it and smells minty. "Are you okay?" Her eyes drift over the bandage looped around his chest and up over shoulder.
"I will be," he says. He doesn't even try to smile at her. He can't make himself do it; seeing her is sapping the last reserves of his strength. She looks beautiful, as always, even in a T-shirt with a hole in it and mismatched socks. Maybe especially in those things, because they're what he's seen her wear at home, when it was just the two of them, laughing and cuddling.
Neither of them says anything else right away. She looks upset, which seems strange; he's used to her smiling when she's around him. She sets the bowl down on the nightstand and reaches out and pushes his hair back off his forehead, gently smoothing it into place. It's a gesture he recognizes, something she's done dozens of times, but never while looking this sad, and never while he was feeling this awful.
He's weak, he knows it, but he can't bring himself to care, or to fight it. As soon as he opens his arms, wincing a little at the pain in his shoulder, she comes down into them without hesitation, gently making a little spoon in front of him. She's careful not to jostle him as she settles her head on the biceps of his good arm. For a moment he has to squeeze his eyes shut and steady his breathing when he feels her against him, familiar and comforting. He needed her and she came.
Steve wishes it could be like this always, and wants it now more than ever, so he hides his face in her hair and holds on as tight as he can with his bad arm. He holds on to everything he feels but shouldn't, and everything he wants to say but can't. He's already made a huge mess of this whole thing; he won't make it worse if he can help it.
Instead, he says her name, tentatively, through a throat that feels raw and tight, but that's as far as he gets in his intended thanks. Her fingers thread through his, and he feels her soft mouth brush against his knuckles, a gentle kiss, and she says, "Go to sleep. I'm here," and his heart breaks in two.
~*~
It's nearly dark when he wakes up, the gray light of dusk filling the room. His shoulder feels a lot better and his bruises look mostly gone. Darcy is still there, clutching his good arm. He lets himself have a few more seconds, pressing his face into her hair and just taking her in; he hadn't realized how much he missed the smell of her. Then he marshals his resolve and makes himself slide his arm out from under her so he can roll onto his back and put some distance between them. He shouldn't have done this, because it will set him back days, maybe weeks, in his efforts to get over her.
As soon as he settles onto the bed she turns over to face him, slowly, so as not to bump into him, and carefully puts her arm across his middle, easing closer until she can rest her chin on his chest. His good arm wraps itself back around her shoulders before he can stop himself.
Her hair is loose, curling around her neck, down over her shoulder, tickling his bare skin. He's seen her like this plenty of times, but never in his own bed. And never will again, ever, anywhere. He feels unbearably sad.
She traces a small circle over his heart with the tip of her finger. "Why did you break it off?" she asks, with no warning at all. He's completely unprepared for the question.
"I thought I didn't have to-" he starts to protest.
She presses her finger to his mouth, shushing him. "I know I'm not supposed to ask, and you don't have to tell me, if you don't want to. But it seems like maybe it's bumming you out a little, so I don't get why you did it."
This will be the final humiliation, telling her why. The thought is so unpleasant that he's tempted to lie, and he rarely lies about anything, ever. But then he remembers the first time he went to her apartment, when he confessed he'd never been with a woman before. She doesn't judge him, or laugh at him, and never has. She deserves to know the truth.
"I broke one of the rules," he admits, with great difficulty.
He hopes that answer will suffice, but she tilts her head and chews on her lip for a second, then asks, "Which one?"
"The one about-feelings," he says. His face feels immovable, expressionless. "I think I broke it a long time ago," he confesses, though he's only recently admitted it to himself. He liked her long before that first Not Date, where he gave her a ladybug and kissed her outside her door. He's probably always liked her more than he should.
All this time he's thought agreeing to be fuddies with her was some weird anomaly, some kind of out-of-character, throw-caution-to-the-wind thing on his part. But it wasn't. It wasn't at all. He's wanted more than she wanted to give him this whole time.
He'd rather not tell her any of that.
"Come here," she says, and cups his cheek with her hand, drawing him closer. She kisses him, a tender little thing, like the first one so long ago. And like that first time, Steve's body just does what it wants. His arm tightens around her and his mouth opens for her. They're not supposed to kiss anymore.
When she pulls back, she's smiling at him. He doesn't understand what's happening at all.
She bumps her nose against his, and says, "That's good to know, because I broke that rule, too."
Steve could swear his heart literally stutters in his chest. She doesn't mean…does she? "You did?" he asks. He almost winces at how hopeful he sounds.
"Mmm hmm," she says. Her smile's even bigger now. Bright and open, radiating happiness. "I broke it a lot. It's very, very broken."
"Oh, thank God," he says, before he can stop himself, pulling her into an awkward, crushing hug. He holds her so tightly his arm starts to shake, and she makes a sound of discomfort. Steve rarely forgets how strong he is, but this has done it.
"Sorry," he says immediately, and loosens his grip a little, but not too much. "I just…" He doesn't know how to finish that sentence.
"So," Darcy says, looking up at him from beneath her eyelashes. "You wanna be my boyfriend, Captain Rogers?"
He feels how huge his grin is, like his face is going to crack in two, but he can't rein it in even a little bit. "Yeah, I do," he says. "I really, really do." He kisses her again, confident of his welcome this time, and it goes on for a while, until they're both breathing a little heavily.
"It's too bad you're hurt," Darcy sighs, when they break apart. "We could celebrate."
"I'm not that hurt," he says immediately. Which is absolutely true. "You can be on top." There's no way she can miss how interested he is in celebrating; he's practically naked.
That makes her laugh, and he can't help but laugh, too. He feels so unbelievably happy, and has to pull her in for another kiss before she finally squirms out of reach and hops off the bed. She strips out of her clothes in seconds, then helps him when he struggles to get his underwear off with one hand.
"As long as we're breaking all the rules," she says as she hovers over him on all fours, "we can probably ditch the condoms."
"I'd like that a lot," he says. He knows this is kind of a big deal, and it's something he would probably never have suggested on his own, even though he knows Darcy takes those pills; she told him that when they started. "If you're sure."
"We've been together long enough," Darcy shrugs. "And I haven't been with anyone else. Have you?"
"Of course not," he says, and that's one more nagging worry he didn't want to admit to, gone for good. She wasn't with anyone else while they were fuddies.
He props himself up on some pillows so he's almost sitting up, because he wants to be able to reach with his injured arm. She climbs astride his hips and sinks down on him without any preliminaries, and he tightens his arm around her and gasps into her neck when he feels how hot and slick she is inside, the shock of it sending goose bumps scattering down his arms.
"Is this okay?" she asks as she starts to move, and Steve knows she means his shoulder, but he shivers at the feel of her, so wet, so warm, and can only nod his head and moan. He had no idea it would feel like this, even though he's touched her there before, with his fingers and his tongue. It's so good. So very, very good.
After that, it gets fast and intense. Maybe because they've been apart, maybe because they don't have to hide anything from each other anymore. Darcy grabs onto the headboard and rides him, and he snaps his hips up to meet her as best he can.
It doesn't take long before he hears the helpless little sounds she makes when the end is near. "God, you feel so good," she moans. "I'm really close."
"Me, too. Don't stop," he says, urging her a little faster, feeling his orgasm bearing down on him. The next thing she says is his name, a gasping cry as she furiously works herself on him, and he manages to hang on a few more seconds until he's sure she's done, before he lifts his hips one last time and lets himself come.
This time he doesn't have to pull out of her and deal with the condom when they're done, so they kiss for little bit while he rubs her with his thumb, lightly tracing a slick circle until they start again. They're in no hurry now, and he watches her ride him slowly, letting it build until her thighs are shaking and the hair at the nape of her neck is damp under his fingers.
Steve's not much of a talker, but he can't seem to stop himself now, when she's moving on him so slow and easy. "I missed you," he pants into her shoulder as she rocks gently in his lap. He'd always avoided saying things like that before, afraid of getting too close to the "no feelings" rule, but now he can say whatever he wants. "I missed you so much, and I wanted this for so long, but I thought you didn't."
"I missed you, too," she murmurs against his ear. "I wanted this, too." He holds her tight and kisses her neck, her nipples, the inviting space between her breasts where he once worked himself until he spilled across the pale skin of her throat. He's greedy to touch her, to put his mouth on her, after thinking he never would again.
At the end she's barely moving, grinding down on him, and he's got his fingers dug into the soft swell of her hip, watching her face as she comes apart around him, pulling him with her.
He collapses back onto the pillows, which are long since strewn all over the place, and he urges her down onto his chest, shushing her when she starts to protest about his shoulder. He feels fine. He feels fantastic.
They both groan when she moves enough for him to slide out of her. "That was great," she mumbles, flapping a hand weakly against his face. "We should do that again in a little bit."
"I think that's pretty likely," he says, laughing. He catches one of her fingers in his teeth and gives it a tug.
They cuddle for a few minutes, not saying much, and then take turns in the bathroom. Steve checks his shoulder and finds the wound is closed, so he pulls off the bandage. On his way back to Darcy he has to stop for a second and just look at her, there in his bed. He never thought he'd have this, or a hundred other things he's wanted so desperately. He dives under the blankets with her and gathers her close.
"Stay here tonight. Sleep in my bed," he says between kisses. He has plans for her in the morning, things he's been thinking about for months. And tomorrow is pancake day, too. They can walk into the kitchen together and not have to hide anything from anyone.
"Mmmm," Darcy hums drowsily into his mouth. "Definitely planning to sleep here a lot. I'm not letting you get away again."
"Me neither," Steve says fervently, sliding one of his legs between hers. He's going to buy her all the gifts he wants, and hold her hand when they go for walks, and have all the feelings he wants without hiding them from anyone. The next time they all go to some hoity-toity function, she can sit on his lap when everyone gets drunk on the patio afterward, and he can talk about her with his friends the way Tony talks about Pepper, and Bruce talks about Betty. He can introduce her to everyone as his girlfriend. He can do a thousand little things that his friends take for granted, but are a whole new world to Steve.
But right now he has something else he's wanted to do for a very long time. Something he wants her to know, words he's been holding in his heart for months.
"Darcy," he says softly.
She stirs in his arms and opens her eyes. She's so beautiful. When she touches his face she smiles, and says, "Hi, handsome."
He leans down and whispers in her ear.
The End
~*~
Darcy's Rules of Being a Fuddy
1. Always call or text before coming over.
2. No public displays of affection.
3. Condoms are mandatory.
4. No one else can know.
5. Never spend the night.
6. No holiday gifts.
7. Anyone can call it quits at any time, no explanation necessary.
8. No feelings.
9. In the case of Steve Rogers, none of the above apply. <3 <3
Notes:
- You can see Darcy's shirt here!
- This is the book Darcy gave Steve for Christmas: Paintings in the Louvre by Lawrence Gowing.
- Because I wrote 99% of this before the release of the Avengers movie (I started it back in December of 2011!), they live in Avengers Mansion rather than Stark Tower, and Phil Coulson isn't dead and I'm sure there are a million other little inconsistencies, DEAL WIDDIT.
- The first draft of this story had a scene where Darcy and Steve go to a revival theater to see The Wizard of Oz, and he mentions seeing it in the theater when it was first released. When I went to see the Avengers movie I was kicking myself all over the place for not getting this posted before the movie came out, because that would have been pretty damn awesome. I took the reference out of the final draft, since I missed my chance to look like a psychic. :)
- The <3 confusion came from a co-worker, who once asked me why his daughter kept sending him ice cream cones in her text messages.
- Yes, Steve does really think Tony is an expert at relationships. Isn't he adorable? (In his defense, as long as he's known Tony, Tony has been with Pepper, so the sample Steve's working from is horribly, horribly skewed.)
eiirene made a beautiful piece of art! (Follow link to see full size in the Tumblr post!)
[Image Description: Steve and Darcy and the ladybug necklace.]