Happy happy birthday, @frogsandcoffee. Enjoy!
It wasn’t unusual to have a stressful, this-day-needs-to-be-over-now, day in the labs. It happened more often than not, really. What was unusual was having a giant coffee waiting for her at her desk by lunch with a balloon attached to it (not a red one, thank Thor, because if someone played one more goddamn It prank on her, she’d cut a bitch). This one was sparkly and purple.
She also wasn’t normally this frazzled halfway through the day but Jane, Tony, and Bruce had nearly blown her up and for fucks sake this is why we have safety precautions.
Approaching her desk with slight caution (you would, too, if you worked there), she noticed there was an envelope laying on the desk. She picked it up and looked around. As far as she knew it wasn’t her birthday and she wasn’t in a relationship, so it’s not like this was an anniversary thing. So, slowly, she slipped her nail underneath the flap and opened it. Taking it as a win that nothing flew in her face (her? paranoid? never), she pulled out the card that was inside.
It, too, was sparkly and shiny, but this one had a frog on the front. A frog with a crown.
Darcy smiled.
There were no words on the front and when she opened it, the only words on the inside were handwritten.
In chicken scratch, so she knew exactly who it was from.
Her smile widened.
D-
Sorry about the thing this morning. (Bruce also says sorry and that you were right, he should have known better). We both know that I don’t know better and Jane never listens. Oops.
So HERE, have a coffee.
Also have dinner with me. Not because I almost killed you and not as a sorry-thing. (Except that I am. So sorry. Sorry.) As a “I would like to take your clothes off after” thing.
That sounded better in my head. What I MEANT (this was underlined three times) was like as a date. And I’m going to use a word here that we both know I barely use: please.
SO. Seven o’clock. My place. You know where it is.
-T
Biting her lip to keep from laughing, she looked towards the ceiling. “JARVIS?”
“Yes, Miss Lewis?” She could have sworn there was a hint of laughter there.
“Please tell Tony that seven is perfect. As long as no one blows me up in the meantime.”
Darcy hoped she didn’t just jinx herself.
“Of course, Miss Lewis.” There was a pause. “Sir says that he’ll fire anyone that attempts to do so.”
Darcy rolled her eyes as she took a sip of her coffee.
Pumpkin spice.
Perfect.
