"I always thought it was a ridiculous name for a prison. Sing Sing, I mean. Sounds more like it should be an opera house or something." ~Holly Golightly
Music Youtube Vid: Cigaretts After Sex, Please Don’t Cry
He loves her. He loves her.
It bears repeating.
He loves her.
"I'm sorry for your loss."
"Thank you." Fuck you.
These people didn't know her. Not really. They knew a girl with a smile and pop culture reference for every occasion.
The first time he met her she'd been covered in dust and spitting angry. They'd spoken in passing before then, flanking her friends. Laughing. But the first time he met the actual Darcy Lewis she was alone and cursing enough to make a trucker blush.
"Motherfucking asshole," she screams in his face when he tells her to calm down ma'am.
It occurs to him, not for the first time, she'd hate this. The quiet, eloquent room. The solemn ceremony. The demure dress her corpse has on. She'd hate every fucking thing about this.
"Five minutes, coat room," she breathes in his ear. The stuffy gala was onto the speeches portion of the evening. One rich schmuck after the next thanking the good men and women... Darcy winks and makes a quiet exit from the room. He follows three minutes later.
"I know how hard it can be to lose someone. I know you loved her."
He loves her. He loves her.
It bears repeating.
He loves her.
"...if there's anything I can do."
"Thank you." Fuck you.
These people didn't know her. Not really. They knew a girl who followed her boss across the globe and didn't use her degree.
Jane wouldn't come to the service.
"Darcy doesn't do goodbyes." She blinks. Realizes, didn't. It goes unsaid.
It occurs to him, not for the first time, Darcy would hate this. The tasteful simplicity. The strangled sobs. The appropriateness of it all. She'd hate every fucking thing about this.
Darcy smiles down at him from the table she's dancing on, after she throws back the shot in her hand, "Told you I could do it."
He loves her. He loves her.
It bears repeating.
He loves her.
"My deepest sympathies."
"Thank you." Fuck you.
These people didn't know her. Not really. They knew a girl who spoke irreverently and lived no holds barred.
He doesn't remember the first time he told Darcy he loves her. They'd been saying in passing for weeks before he stopped short on the words one day, realizing what was coming out of his mouth.
"I've been waiting for that to freak you out," she says softly into her coffee.
It occurs to him, not for the first time, Darcy would hate this. The softly spoken condolences. The heavy silence. The perfect curls in her hair. She'd hate every fucking thing about this.
"Don't you fucking dare," she says wetly, coughing blood. He opens his mouth to say she'll be okay or that he's sorry or some bullshit he hasn't thought of yet. "Just tell me you love me." He shakes his head. No. No. No. His mouth sets in an angry line at the injustice. "Just tell me you love me and then you can hate me okay?" He opens his mouth to say she better fucking live if she wants to hear it. "Just tell me you..." He doesn't.
I love this, because Goddess Carrie Fisher followed this up by asking the audience if they liked wearing heels to which we also got a unanimous no. She also got an update on the kangaroo testicles she’d given him. We didn’t deserve her.
Every 3 months, Caroline went to the doctor and got her suppressant injection like a responsible omega. She kept her appointments, and got those shots like clockwork. Never fail. Her hormones, her pheromones, her whatever else mones were not in play here. So Klaus could take his mates bullshit and shove it right up his ass. Because despite what Disney was selling, mates were about HLA genes, compatible pheromones, and synced heat cycles. All of which the suppressant took care of, and prevented Caroline, in her own words, from being overtaken by omegabrain. One word. There was no destiny or one true love when it came to mates. It was nothing but simple biology. Klaus may have some of the strongest Alpha markers ever recorded, but her mate he most certainly was not despite his claims, and Caroline made sure to tell him as much.
“It’s just not possible,” Caroline insisted for the third time that evening. And was her homecoming dance really the place to be having this conversation? Honestly, the man had no tact. She glared as he let out an amused chuckle and spun her under his arm before pulling her back in closer.
“If you say so love,” he placated. The smirk showed he knew how his condescension infuriated the blonde in his arms, “But do you think it’s at least possible you could let me lead this dance?”
Caroline blushed realizing she had taken over without realizing it. Taking a deep breath, she let him take the lead once more.
“You’re quite the controlling little thing aren’t you Caroline?” Klaus mused, “Between the suppressants and your dominant tendencies, no one would ever think to classify you as an omega. It’s no wonder you’re content with a beta.”
“What are you talking about?” Caroline demanded more than questioned, furrowing her brow.
“That smalltown boyfriend of yours, Tyler,” Klaus sneered.
“You mean the same small town your family lives in? The one you spent all summer in, and visit every holiday? That small town?” Caroline countered. “Are you sure you’re not a little smalltown yourself?”
“New Orleans has been my home since I was a boy. My mother’s choice to relocate is in no relation to my preferences.” Klaus defended himself. Tightening his grip on her waist, he added, “But perhaps, I’ve found this small town has its charms.”
Doing her best not to react to his insinuation, Caroline let their conversation drop for a moment before telling him with the most nonchalance she could muster, “And not that it’s any of your business, but Tyler isn’t my boyfriend anymore.”
She tried not to let Klaus’s surprise effect her either. Instead, she avoided eye contact, uncomfortable with the vulnerability of admitting to a powerful Alpha she was unclaimed. Stepping in closer to his stance, she rested her chin over his shoulder. And if his hand sliding across her back to embrace her in their new closeness sent shivers down her body, she refused to acknowledge that either. They danced in silence for another song before she felt Klaus tense. Pulling back, she saw him scowling at a couple across the dancefloor.
“Who is that dancing with my little sister?” he all but growled.
“Finally decided to remember you’re supposed to be chaperoning this dance, did you?” she questioned glibly.
“Yes, well, excuse me while I go perform my duties, will you sweetheart?” moving to go do just that.
“Simmer down,” Caroline rolled her eyes pulling him back towards her. “If anything it’s Matt you should be concerned for. Bekah will eat him alive.”
“I don’t know if I like what you’re insinuating about my sister.”
“Oh please,” Caroline harrumphed, “You know perfectly well Rebekah can take care of herself. I don’t think there is a guy in this whole school willing to mess with her after what she did to Damon.
Besides, Matt’s a sweetie. You have nothing to worry about with them, I promise,” she assured.
She was happy to see he took her word for it as his attention shifted from his sister. Her breath caught at the look of adoration he directed toward her. He framed her face with one of his large hands, his thumb stroking the apple of her cheek. “With just a few words, you calm my beast.”
Any other time, a sarcastic quip would fall from her lips, but as it was she could hardly hear herself think over the pounding of her heart. No one had ever looked at her quite like he was just then. As if she was magic or an answer to something he desperately needed to know. Like she was everything.
She opened her mouth to say something, she didn’t know what, but before she could figure it out the principal interrupted to announce the last song, and her friends dragged her away to recreate a NSYNC number from their childhood. And while she ended the night laughing with her friends, she still couldn’t forget that breathless moment she stood enthralled by Klaus.
Summary: Darcy is a master of board games, no one can defeat her at any of them, this bothers Tony.
A/N: This isn’t even really a fic or even drabble material. It’s just me rambling off Darcy Lewis themed randomness. Enjoy anyway?
It all starts on a quiet Tuesday afternoon. The last few weeks have been uneventful for the Avengers, and the team is starting to go a little stir crazy. They’re all incredibly bored. To keep them- mostly Tony- out of trouble, Darcy pulls out a game of Monopoly. Considering the competitive nature of the players involved, she suspects it might get violent. Nonetheless, it has to be better than whatever Tony and his scientist pals would get upto in his lab. And so, she corrals the science bros & their new Foster sister (although Tony hasn’t called her that since Jane threw a wrench at him) into the game.
Two hours later, Darcy has bankrupted the genius billionaire and his equally brilliant friends.
“Damn it!” Tony curses as he lands on New York Times Square adorned with not one, but two hotels on it.
“Just be glad we’re not playing for real money,” Darcy snorts. “Now let’s talk about JFK.”
“It’s my last property! That and a thousand dollars are all I have left to my name.”
“Give ‘em to Mama,” Darcy coos.
“You’re evil,” he hisses.
“Okay,” Bruce tries to intervene, “I think it’s pretty obvious Darcy wins. It’s just a game. Anybody hungry?”
They leave a scowling Tony behind to call in their order.
Two nights later, Natasha, Clint, Sharon, and Maria are playing a few rounds of Blackjack in the common room while Darcy types away at her laptop at the kitchen counter. Tony stumbles in, and when Darcy looks up from her computer his eyes are gleaming, his smile positively insidious.
“How about that rematch Darce,” his head gestures to the card game.
Darcy snorts in dismissal, “I’m not gambling with a bunch of spies.”
“Wise choice,” Sharon grimaces as she busts for the third time in a row.
“I’ll buy you in,” Stark offers.
“How about it guys,” Darcy grins, “anyone want to take Starks money home with them tonight?”
No one takes home Stark’s money except Darcy, who only wins slightly less money than Clint, who had already been playing for an hour when she joined. Tony is fit to be tied, and the curiosity of four spies has been peaked. Darcy decides she really needs to learn to curb her competitive nature.
That Friday, Tony puts aside his work in favor of being demolished in chess and Manacala.
Darcy walks into the lab Monday morning, and does a double take. Tony has set up the lab with different board games. With just a cursory glance, she spots Connect Four, Checkers, Chinese Checkers, Candyland, Sorry, and Battleship. She quite seriously considers walking right back out, but is ushered inside by Clint. Sam and Steve are right behind him.
“How did you get involved with this?” Darcy grouses to Sam and Steve.
“He stole our toys,” Sam frowns. “My wings are on lockdown until we beat you at one of these games.”
Steve crosses his arms like he often does when he’s frustrated, and grunts “My motorcycle too.”
‘Well,’ she consoles herself internally, ‘At least there will be pretty things to look at.’
She spends most of the morning drawing out their game of Sorry, even letting Sam slide three of his green pieces home before she puts them out of their misery. After that, she quickly makes her way through the rest of the games, always coming out the victor. It all comes down to Battleship, and Steve is starting to get that same determined glint in his eye that she’s seen Tony walking around with for the last week. Sam just looks awed, and Clint is done with everything. He’s retiring to take Darcy on the road and play board games professionally. He’s decided he’ll be an excellent momager. Darcy hates herself for this, but she just can’t lose on purpose. It’s not in her to do such a thing.
Steve is down three ships and his aircraft carrier has four hits to Darcy’s one lost destroyer.
“You’re supposed to be a master tactician! Use those skills! What the hell is happening here? Are you really going to let the intern beat you at war?” Tony admonishes from over Steve’s shoulder.
“Shut up,” Steve glares at him, “the last time you contributed, I lost my submarine.”
Darcy sends Stark an admonishment of her own, “The intern? What did we agree you were to call me as per the terms of your Connect Four annihilation?”
Tony bows his head as per their agreement and mutters, “The Flawless Unsung Hero of My Lab Darcy Lewis.”
“That’s what I thought you meant,” Darcy nodded in satisfaction. “Steven, muscle bound magnificence that you are, patriotic savior of the world, could you please take aim and fire? It’s been like five minutes already.”
Taking a bracing breath, Steve punched in the coordinates only for the automated voice to tell him he had missed.
“Serioursly?! Of fucking course!” Tony groaned.
“Language,” Clint laughs earning Steve’s glare.
Clint cheers and laughs his way through the rest of the game as Darcy finishes off what is left of Steve’s fleet only losing her patrol boat in exchange.
In the following weeks Darcy faces down various members of the Avengers team and friends in games like Risk, Dominoes, Scrabble, Clue, Chutes & Ladders, etc. There’s even a memorable game of Apples to Apples. Tony absolutely loses it during Yahtzee, leading Pepper to ban all board games from the Tower.
“ you’re my next door neighbor and you walk your dog for like 2 hours every day in our adjoining backyards and at first I was annoyed bc trespassing much??? but you’re really cute and you dance and sing along badly to music the whole time so I sit on the back porch and watch you for a little bit “ Neighbors!AU
Crossover: Pitch Perfect/Thor/Avengers/SHIELD
Synopsis: A college AU in which Emily as the only remaining member of the Bellas has recruited a new team of freshmen all of whom happen to be MCU ladies
A/N: Sorry! Way late. I hope to catch up a little over the weekend. Fingers crossed. Wish me luck. Also, I’ve only seen PP twice and PP2 once and I’m not the least bit musically inclined, so if I make any huge errors I apologize. This is unedited. If I have time, I’ll come back and edit, but I just wanted to get something out and try to catch up on the challenge a little.
“Wait, wait, wait!” The not so benevolent dictator at the front of the auditorium commanded the room full of women. “This isn’t working. Darcy you’re off half a beat, Natasha you're supposed to be smiling not practicing your murder face, and Jane are you even trying?”
“My murder face doesn’t need practice,” Natasha muttered under her breath.
Emily continued on with her critiques without acknowledging Nat’s comment, “You all look dead on your feet. I told you not to stay at the party last night. It’s only the first week of the semester. You’ll have plenty of time for all that. Right now, we need to focus on coming together as a team and shaping up.”
“Emily,” Pepper panted, “We weren’t even supposed to have rehearsal today. What’s with the change of plans?”
Emily paused in her admonishments and took a deep breath. “I know I must seem super intense, but the team worked so hard last year to get the Bellas back into competition. I just want to honor all that hard work, but I’m the only member on this team with any type of seniority and I’m only a sophomore. We need to practice day and night, so we can kick ass when the time comes.”
The rest of the team softened at her admission.
Maria stepped forward, gripping Emily’s shoulder in comradery, “And we will, but if you make Skye pass out we’ll have to cancel practice entirely. So maybe we should take a little break?”
“Hey!” Skye protested, short of breath which only served to emphasize Maria’s point.
“You’re right,” Emily agreed. “Let’s take 10 and then we can discuss the workout schedule.”
“The what now?” Darcy blanched.
“Yeah, I don’t do that,” Jane informed the ladies headed toward the water cooler.
“Well you do now,” Emily retorted.
“I’m a health sciences major,” Helen spoke up for the first time in the last 4 days they’d known her. “I could help you plan any diet and fitness routine.”
“That be great!” Emily accepted the offer enthusiastically.
“Hypothetically,” Darcy pondered leaning toward Natasha, “Could I hire you to eliminate them?”
“Hypothetically,” Natasha paused dramatically for a beat, “You couldn’t afford my services.”
“I have assigned parking in front of the Student Union,” Jane stated temptingly.
Nat raised a brow in interest, “To the North or West?”
“No contract kills this early in the semester,” Melinda interrupted their negotiation.
Natasha shrugged but seemed to agree as she walked off. Jane and Darcy pouted the rest of practice.
Do-re-mi-fa-so-la-ti
The lack of upper classmen in the Bellas left plenty of room for the entire team to move into the Bella house. Among their own kind, the team lived and breathed acapella. No campus housing in crappy freshman dorms had sounded so ideal to Darcy when it came about. No residential bathroom mishaps, no weird roommate (Okay, so what if Jane was kind of weird? Darcy liked her.), and Darcy was especially delighted she didn’t have to deal with the mystery stain on the wall of the dorm room she’d been assigned. Living in the Bella house definitely went into the win column as far as Darcy had been concerned.
But sometimes, Emily went a little nuts, and could take Jane, Jemma, and Bobbi right along with her to Crazy Town. Darcy was innocently perched on the counter devouring her midnight snack of Froot Loops when the four came into the kitchen harmonizing their way from higher to lower pitches. For the last three days, Darcy had been unable to go 5 whole minutes without someone bursting into the song unless she was in class. That wasn’t a hyperbole, but a literal statement.
Someday very soon, Darcy wasn’t going to need to hire Natasha. She was just going to snap and end up doing the job herself.
Darcy found she could usually come up with a way to distract them if they got too out of control. Unfortunately as their first competition approached, Emily cracked down on distractions and everyone in the damn house was headed straight passed Crazy Town into downright insane asylum. Darcy sat out on front porch trying to focus on the beautiful lake and destress. The solitude was just starting to work its magic when she heard loud excited barking approaching the yard.
A dog ran up onto the lawn, a guy not far behind. She recognized the sweatshirt as the frat next door. And really? Their lawn was way bigger. Couldn’t they stay over on their side?
Darcy never thought she would grown up to be one of those people who told kids to stay off her lawn but she was getting ready to do just that. This was the 3rd time this week he was trespassing on their property.
Grandpa Lewis would be so proud, Darcy thought as she stood to tell the guy off. But when she opened her mouth to start yelling, she heard the chorus for Journey’s Don’t Stop Believing being belted out loud and proud and honestly so off key Darcy cringed a little.
Then the dancing started.
Do-re-mi-fa-so-la-ti
“Alright ladies from the top,” Emily instructed falling back into place.
She got a body like an hourglass
But I can give it to you all the time
She got a bootie like a cadillac
But I can send you into overdrive
Sharon, Melinda, and Pepper started singing, stepping away from the tight formation of the group to opposite corners swaying their hips and arms in coordination.
(You've been waiting for that, stop, hold up, swing your bat)
Darcy, Jane, and Skye joined in stepping forward in seductive march, while Maria, Natasha, and Bobbi mirrored them stepping backwards.
See anybody could be bad to you
You need a good girl to blow your mind, yeah
The rest of the girls scattered across the stage moving to the song.
Bang, bang into the room
I know you want it
Bang, bang all over you
I'll let you have it
Wait a minute, let me take you there
‘Step, step, turn, backstep, move out of Gamora and Helen’s way as they catapult across the stage in a series of flips, and turn again,’ was Darcy’s inner dialogue.
Wait a minute til you…
Emily took center stage as the rest of the girls started dancing their way back into formation.
Bang, bang there goes your heart
I know you want it
Back, back seat of my car
I'll let you have it
Wait a minute, let me take you there
Wait a minute til you
They all fell in line as their routine ended.
“Guys,” Emily panted in a solemn manner. The rest waited on baited breathe, “That was perfect!” She squealed jumping up and down.
The rest of the team joined in on her celebration. After a few minutes of victory, Emily spoke again, “Okay, just a couple of more times.”
The team groaned as one.
Do-re-mi-fa-so-la-ti
It had been nearly a month of watching her neighbor dance across their shared yard with his big slobbery dog, when Darcy came across him entirely by mistake. Desperate for some caffeine, she ran into a coffee shop she was just passing by and there he was manning the register.
Darcy found a haven in the coffee shop in the center of town. It was just quiet enough to study, but still gave her a nice urban hum to zone out to. Plus, it certainly didn’t hurt that the baristas were so cute. The same three or four guys always worked this shift. And so what if she sat in the corner because it afforded her the chance to subtly steal glances of them as they worked? Tall & Blonde, Man Bun, Taller & Blonder, and Biceps as she had so dubbed them were fun to watch. They were always bantering and messing around.
Today though, Darcy was coming off a six hour rehearsal, and four hours sleep thanks to the paper due and two tests she had this week. Today she walked into the nearly empty shop and just wanted her coffee, to review her notes, and forget the fact she had lost her chance at a solo thanks to a flubbed F sharp.
“Hey,” Man Bun gave a charming grin. “Cappuccino, extra foam. How are you today?”
“Double espresso and bran muffin actually. I’m craptastic,” she lamented pulling out her notes to dig around her bag for her wallet.
“That sucks,” he frowned. “What happened?”
“Nothing I want to talk about,” Darcy sighed. “It’s just a bad day.”
“Fair enough,” he shrugged before calling over his shoulder to Tall & Blonde, “Yo Punk, double espresso,” as he reached into the display for a muffin.
“How much do I owe,” she asked as he handed it over.
“It’s on the house,” he answered pushing the hand holding her wallet back toward her.
“Really? That’s so cool of you. Thanks!” she showed her first ounce of happiness all day.
And damn it if that wasn’t the moment Biceps came jogging in apologizing for being late. He vaulted himself across the counter brushing against Taller & Blonder, who stumbled into Tall & Blonde as he reached out to place her drink in front of her, and espresso went splashing all across her notes. The four men immediately started a variation of cursing and apologizing as Darcy ignored them in favor of a minor panic attack.
Wide eyed and shaking slightly, Darcy stared down at her notes as Man Bun started sloshing the excess coffee off of them with napkins he seemingly pulled out of thin air.
“Shit, what class are these for?” he asked.
Darcy didn’t answer. Only looked at her once perfect notes forlornly.
Biceps looked over his shoulder at the papers. “Is this for Dr. Price’s English I class? Thor totally had him. The guy keeps all his notes. Don’t you big guy?”
Taller & Blonder, Thor apparently, nodded his head. “Indeed. I would gladly share them with you.”
Darcy thought she might cry.
“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay,” Tall & Blonde assured. “Just breathe.” He took deep exaggerated breaths as an example.
His friends followed suit and soon they were all breathing in unison, Darcy included. Calming down, Darcy took notice of what was happening and started laughing. At their perplexed and worried looks, she explained, “It sounds like a lamaze class in here.”
After that, they were all laughing uncontrollably.
It all worked out. Thor as it turns out took great notes, Darcy got an A on her test, and she now knew all of the cute baristas and their real names.
Do-re-mi-fa-so-la-ti
“I hate cardio,” Darcy glowered over at Emily on the neighboring treadmill as Helen instructed them to up their speed. “How much longer?”
Not seeming the least phased by the 6.5 mph they were pounding out on the treadmill, Natasha on her other side looked at her watch and answered, “Twenty minutes or so.”
“I tried to get the gym until 4, but the hockey team already booked from 3 to 6.” Emily complained. “We could come back after, but then we have to fight for every piece of equipment since those are hours the gym is open to everyone.”
“What a shame,” Darcy commented flatly, sarcasm perfectly evident in her voice.
A few minutes later, Helen gave the go ahead to slow down for the cool down. Darcy was all but wheezing by that point.
“Go ahead and slow down to a stop, and we’re done,” Helen instructed.
Darcy straddled her machine pulling the sensor to stop it, and threw herself over the control board of the damn thing. In her peripheral, she saw Jane throw herself on the floor. Or pass out. Darcy couldn’t be sure and she didn’t have the energy to check. Or care.
Most of the team, made their way over to their bags and water bottles while Darcy found the will to continue living. Using her remaining energy, she staggered a few machines over and collapsed next to Jane.
“You alive?” she huffed.
“No,” Jane whined.
Darcy looked up as new voices entered the gym. It was the hockey team. A hockey team that apparently consisted of hot baristas. Steve, Bucky, Clint and Thor all noticed her sprawled across the floor at the same, but were apparently unconcerned as they waved at her jovially.
“I hate cardio,” Darcy hissed into Jane’s shoulder wishing that whole dying of embarrassment thing was possible.
Do-re-mi-fa-so-la-ti
Jane and Thor ended up hitting it off. She had quite literally swept him off his feet. When she finally peeled herself off the gym floor, Thor was already on the treadmill warming up, and Jane using said treadmill to right herself had accidently unplugged it. The poor guy went flying at its abrupt stop. He asked her out as she escorted him to the infirmary.
The pair were on their first date as Darcy made herself a big bowl of popcorn and sat on the front porch waiting for Bucky to come out and give his nightly performance. Sure enough, a within the hour he was in her yard unknowingly serenading her with AC/DC as his excited dog ran circles around him.
At the end of Highway to Hell, Darcy gave loud applause shouting, “Bravo!”
The massive dog bounded toward her as Bucky looked up in surprise. “Shit.”
Darcy threw her head back in laughter and the dog took the opportunity to stick his face in her popcorn bowl and steal the last of the salty kernels.
“How long have you been sitting there?” Bucky groaned as he approached her, a deep blush visible on his cheeks.
“About 2 months,” Darcy snarked.
“Seriously?” he asked incredulously.
Darcy leaned back on her hands, nodding, “Yep.”
“This is really embarrassing,” Bucky sat down just a step below her to the left, burying his head in his hands.
“Honestly, it’s probably the best part of my day,” Darcy admitted.
Looking up, Bucky cocked his head to the side, “Yeah?” he questioned.
“Yeah,” she whispered in agreement as he leaned closer to her.
Suddenly, the dog squeezed between them begging for attention.
“Sarge,” Bucky frowned at the big beast, “meet Darcy. Darcy, Sarge.”
Reaching up to scratch behind his ears, Darcy answered, “Nice to meet you Sarge,” and the dog promptly melted into her touch.
Day 1 : “ So I kinda took this amazing still life of you while you were unaware and now I have to track you down so I can put the photo in my gallery “ photography!AU
Crossover: Thor/Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles
A/N: So I missed day one of the challenge, and I don’t know that I’m going to make today’s either. Lol, I might have to do the whole thing a day behind. Also, I think I might have missed the mark on the AU part of this. Also, it’s been a while since I saw TSCC, so the characters may be a little off. Anyways, enjoy.
Darcy Lewis was on a mission to graduate by December, so when an internship worth all six of her science credits became available she jumped at the opportunity. And when an online photography class came along to fill her art requirement, she signed right on along with a transferable comp sci course at the local university in Puente Antiguo where her internship was to take place. It was a bit of an overwhelming summer to say the least, and that was before the aliens had brought their family feud to Earth. But it wasn’t until this moment Darcy regretted any of it.
“Create a still life,” her professor said over the weekly class check in. Easy enough. “With unconventional items not usually seen in a still life,” her professor added. Okay. “With hidden depth that says something. Really shock me. The best submissions will be put in my end of the semester gallery show with an automatic A in the class,” her professor concluded. Fuck you, Professor Camillo. Fuck you.
Darcy did not need this kind of pressure, but the hell if she didn’t need to be selected for the gallery. She was barely hanging onto her C minus. With everything that had gone down, she had missed a couple of assignments.
Sighing, Darcy rearranged Jane’s telescope to the center of the random objects she had grabbed out of the lab and placed in the middle of the desert landscape on an empty road. She knew more or less she wanted her theme to be searching for hope in the middle of vast isolation or some campy shit like that. Professor Camillo ate that shit up, but the only vibe Darcy was getting off her shots was random junk piled randomly.
She was getting ready to pull her hair out when suddenly the sun reflected off the telescope lens across a couple screens of the broken down machines. Taking advantage of what looked like a promising photo, Darcy picked up her camera and took a series of photos in quick succession. Unfortunately, a car drove by at that exact moment, and by the time the car was gone so was the reflecting light.
“God Damn it! Mother butter of all the fucking moments!” Darcy cried out, stomping her foot, and throwing a stellar tantrum. “First time a car drives by all freakin’ day! Fuckity nutter butter biscuits!” She continued on for a while.
She took a few more shots, but quickly lost her lighting as the sun moved across the sky. Later that night, she loaded the pictures on the computer to clean them up and see if anything was usable. She deleted them as she went, discarding one photo after the next finding each one worse than the last. It wasn’t until she came across her ruined shots she found her submission.
Gazing calculatingly past the camera, a girl with long brown hair and a too cool for you attitude looked out from the passenger side window. Next to her in the driver’s seat was some sullen looking hipster kid staring straight ahead at the road in front of him. The focus of the photo was on the telescope, the machines were a secondary focus, and the car blended in with them. But somehow the car and it’s straight out of a young adult novel teenagers gave the photo that loneliness Darcy had been going for. It looked a little post apocalyptic.
Darcy set about filtering the photo, but found it needed minimal touching up. Surprisingly happy with her results, she sent the photo to her professor with a title so pretentious Camillo would probably squee in happiness This Endless Road to Nowhere.
For the next 4 days, Darcy shamelessly refreshed her browser open to her final semester grades. She tossed food at her tiny scientist and didn’t enforce bedtime. In return, her tiny scientist didn’t comment on Darcy’s lack of actual work. On day 4, her professor finally uploaded her class’s grades.
“Hells yes!” Darcy shouted pumping her fists into the air in victory.
“What?” Jane looked up from her whiteboard for the first time in 6 hours.
“I got the A!” she explained excitedly
“Congratulations,” Jane gave her a small smile before returning to her work.
Darcy proceeded to do dorky celebratory dances for the next hour. A couple of days later she checked her email finding a message from Camillo.
Ms. Lewis,
Congratulations on your final submission. It was absolutely splendid. It speaks volumes to the soul. A picture is worth much more than a thousand words. I’m proud to add this piece to our end of the semester showing. My friend and gallery owner, Mable Boston, was all a tizzy when she saw your photo. She thinks some of her buyers may be interested in it. As I’m sure you remember from our photojournalism chapter, I thoroughly stress ethics to all of my students. Before we can submit your piece, I will need you to have the subjects of the photo sign release forms.
Best Wishes,
Professor Camillo
Darcy blinked at the screen for several beats before muttering under her breath, “Balls.”
Over the weekend, Darcy contemplated her options. She alternated between just not entering her photograph in the show and wondering how much money the damn thing might sell for. How the hell would she even find the angsty teens? Figuring it couldn’t hurt, she looked at the original photos, wrote down the plate number, and hoped like hell the local DMV hadn’t beefed up their cyber security since she’d made Thor his license. Finding herself lucky, she found the had not. She ran the plates finding the car registered to a Sarah Connor. She jotted down the address and quickly logged out.
Driving up to the suburban house, the last thing she expected was the greeting she received. She heard someone unlocking the three deadbolts and a knob lock, and the door opened only the length the chain would allow. A tall, dark haired woman looked at her expectantly.
“What do you want?”
“Um...hi,” Darcy floundered at the unfriendly greeting. “Sorry to bother you, are you Sarah Connor?”
The woman gave her a suspicious look, “Why are you looking for her?”
Hoping like hell she wasn’t about to get the door slammed in her face, Darcy rushed to explain, “I took a roadside photo of a car registered in her name, and I need her or whoever was in the car to sign a release so I can put it in a gallery, and hopefully get enough money to be able afford textbooks next semester.” When the woman didn’t immediately tell her to leave she pulled out the photo passing it through the door along with the release, “Here, why don’t you take a look at it?”
“I don’t want you selling a picture of my kid,” the woman barked looking at the photo.
“Please!” Darcy clasped her hands in front of her, “I really need the money, I’ll send you anything left over after I buy my textbooks. I’ll buy them used I promise!”
“I’m sorry you’re in a tight spot, but I don’t need my son’s face floating around out there,” the woman sighed.
“It’s a small gallery in the middle of nowhere Virginia, some academics will see it but that’s it. I promise! There’s nothing but pretentious hipsters and professors in the town. It’s Culver!” she pleaded.
“I’m sorry, but no. I can’t take that risk.” She went to shut the door when the kids in the photo pulled into the driveway.
“What’s going on here,” The boy asked.
“Your mom is just crushing my dreams,” Darcy answered glibly.
The kid gave her a confused look before answering with sarcasm, “Yeah, she’s good at that. What dreams is she crushing today?”
“My being able to afford all my textbooks this semester,” Darcy sighed.
“I know you, we saw you taking pictures once,” The girl said after stepping almost protectively in front of her companion. “What is your purpose here Darcy Lewis?”
“How the hell do you know my name?” Darcy asked clutching her bag in front of her as if that would protect her from these weirdos.
“You are in-”
“She makes a habit of knowing everyone in town,” Sarah cut her off from the now open door.
“Okay, well I’m officially creeped out,” Darcy admitted awkwardly. “I’m gonna,” she pointed at her car, “Yeah, I’m gonna go.”
When she was in the relative safety of her vehicle, Darcy locked the doors and scrambled to find her keys in the depths of her bag. She had put the key in the ignition when their was a knock at her window.
Darcy yelped and turned to see the boy waving the photo at her. “You can keep it,” she yelled through the closed window starting the vehicle.
“Okay thanks,” he shouted back, “but do you want the release?” He pulled the now signed paper out from behind the picture.
She cracked the window and let him slide it through. “Thanks,” she smiled weakly still ready to book it the hell out of there. His scary mom and the creepy girl were glaring at her from the doorway.
“No reason for her to crush both our dreams ,” he shrugged back.
He stepped away from the car. Darcy waved, but wasted no time taking off.
Summary: Steve can’t figure out why Bucky keeps breaking things in their apartment until he meets the building’s super.
A/N: Just a little drabble.
Steve was worried about his best friend. Since getting him back, the reacclimation to life away from Hydra had been slow for Bucky. Slow, but steady. Thankfully though all of Bucky’s issues seemed to revolve around socialization, and that they could fix. Physically speaking, he was perfectly fine. So little by little, the doctors, Steve, and a few members of the team had helped Bucky reenter the world. Recently, Steve and Bucky had moved into a little apartment in Brooklyn all on their own with no SHIELD or Stark supervision. Things had been going well.
After the last couple of months though, Steve had started to notice Bucky could be a little...clumsy. The Bucky he knew before the ice was graceful as a cat. After, his grace could make a ballerina envious. The man was trained as a sniper, spy, and assassin, but these days it seemed to Steve that Bucky couldn’t go a week without busting something in their apartment with his discoordination. There was something very wrong with his best friend.
It had started after right after they first moved in. Bucky had been adjusting the setting on the showerhead, and slipped ripping the damn thing off the wall as he went down. That was a great way to meet the downstairs neighbors alright.
At the time, Steve had laughed his ass off before running out the door answering a call to assemble and leaving Bucky to deal with the mess he’d created. The second incident occurred one night while Bucky was stumbling around in the dark one night looking for a late night snack. Apparently, his stumbling had lead his fist right through some sheetrock. Somewhere between incidents 3 and 9 their dryer had been put on the fritz, a knob broken off the stove, and their window had been broken. Bucky always took care of the situation himself never once involving Steve. Steve knew his friend wanted to live a normal life and take care of himself, but this wasn’t normal.
He had finally gathered the nerve to mention something to Dr. Cho. She suggested Bucky come in for a CAT scan. Now, Steve just had to find the nerve to bring it up with Buck.
He was just thinking of how to phrase it when he heard someone call out.
“Hold the elevator!” A husky female voice commanded.
Steve stuck his arm out letting a short woman with pulled back dark hair and glasses pass him onto the elevator car. He recognized her from the mailboxes where he regularly admired her pretty blue eyes and lush lips along with her scarf of the day. Right now though, she was in coveralls wearing a toolbelt. That was definitely a change from her usual getup.
“Thanks,” she smiled up at him.
“No problem,” he nodded.
Steve was having problems not letting his eyes linger over the figure she painted. Like a conservative, but still all the more appealing for it, version of something straight out of a men’s magazine. Sweet Jesus, she was gorgeous. He tried to think of something to say, but still had squat when the elevator doors opened.
Moving to exit the car, he was startled when she made to get out as well. He knew for a fact she lived above him having ridden in the elevator with her before.
“This is the 6th floor,” he reminded her.
“Yup, sure is,” she agreed moving down the hallway.
“Oh, sorry I thought I knew everyone who lived on this floor,” actually, he knew he did.
“I don’t live on this floor. I’m working right now,” she grinned up at him as they both came to a stop outside his door. “I’m your super, Darcy Lewis.” She stuck out her hand to be shook. “And my new tenant likes to break things.”
Taking her hand, he answered, “Steve, and my roommate likes to break stuff.”
And Steve was starting to see why his roommate liked to break stuff. In fact, he was already taking a mental inventory of all the structural improvements that could be made in his own room.
Summary: Jane and Darcy find themselves in an Avenger themed meme off
A/N: I edited this story, and am now updating it here. It definitely needed it since I wrote the original version with about six hours sleep over two and half days.
When Jane had replied to Darcy’s photo with her own all those weeks ago, she hadn’t anticipated it turning into a never ending meme off. Although, she couldn’t exactly say she was disappointed with the entertainment it provided. Darcy was fiercely competitive, and even with easy access to the abs of a god, Jane wasn’t entirely sure she was in the lead of their unspoken battle of captioned snapshots. It had started innocently enough.
Jane had woken up grumpily thanks to the sun trickling in through her open curtains. Really, what good were blackout curtains if she didn’t bother to use them. Her attitude quickly shifted when she turned to take in the very reason she had forgotten to close them last night. Thor’s beautiful form lay tangled in her sheets after a night of being thoroughly welcomed home after an extended trip off world. She took a few minutes to enjoy just lying next to him before finally finding the willpower to get up and get to work.
She had hoisted herself out of bed gracelessly, and the disruption caused Thor to shift in his sleep and grumble unintelligibly. Jane grinned down at him as she pulled on some pants. A vibration in her back pocket disrupted her admiration. Pulling her phone from her pants, she found 3 alerts. A reminder about the meeting she had with Tony about funding, a text from Darcy, and a Snapchat notification.
Reminder: Meeting with Pube Face @ 9am
Apparently, Darcy still hadn’t forgiven Tony for trying to have her replaced with a more qualified assistant for Jane. And Darcy being Darcy took every opportunity to express her dislike for the man including when she was programming alerts into Jane’s calendar. Honestly, Jane couldn’t say she was crazy about Stark either, but seeing as how he had promoted Darcy to office manager a few months ago, she didn’t understand why Darcy still held a grudge. The moment Peter, Jane’s new lab assistant, had arrived Darcy had simply scowled about Tony finally getting his way. Jane found Peter to be an acceptable presence but missed spending all day with her friend sometimes. Although, it was helpful having someone she could bounce ideas off of who understood her field.
I’m here before you. That can only mean one thing...tell Thor hi for me! I knew I heard thunder last night ;)
Jane rolled her eyes at Darcy’s text.
Opening the Snapchat notification lead to a photo of Tony and Bruce passed out in Bruce’s lab. Tony was stretched out across a desk on his back, while Bruce was sprawled out in a rolling chair. It was captioned Scientists in their natural habitat.
Jane scoffed, but replied taking a photo of Thor. She made sure to include the pizza box they’d carelessly discarded on the floor after finishing it last night, and captioned it with A god in his natural habitat.
As far as Jane was concerned, that was the end of their little exchange. The astrophysicist headed off to retrieve Stark for their meeting, and let herself get caught up in her work forgetting all about it. A fact made easier by Darcy being out of the labs all day running around getting some licensing issues resolved for one of Stark’s new projects.
However, the next day Darcy sent her two photos in quick succession. The first was of Clint in a tight white muscle t and basketball shorts seemingly sneering at the treadmill in front of him. Darcy had captioned it Yeah, no, don’t put me down for cardio. The second was of a shirtless Bucky lying on a mat, legs lifted up a foot or so off the ground, and it said Horizontal running. Jane blinked down at her phone just taking in the aesthetic appeal of the pictures. It took her another minute or two to pick up on the movie reference.
What on earth Darcy was doing within 10 feet of a gym, Jane was unsure. Knowing Darcy, the sole purpose could very well be the opportunity to take these photos.
That afternoon when she headed out to meet Thor for lunch, she came across Bruce doing Tai Chi in his lab. He was repeating a motion of rocking back and forth on his right leg, pushing his arms out, and bringing his open palms up to his shoulders. And well, Jane had never been the type to let opportunity pass her by. She snapped a picture of him and sent it to Darcy titled Spirit Fingers.
They went back and forth for weeks. The photos had been varied. Some were jaw droppingly sexy, while others were gut wrenchingly funny. Jane had even sent Darcy an encrypted dick pick of Thor’s not so cleverly titled Thor’s Hammer. She had the pleasure of hearing Darcy’s reaction from three labs away. Living and working in the tower, they never ran out of material. On the other hand, the thing about living and working in the tower was nothing stayed secret for long.
()
Ian and Darcy had left things pretty open ended when she left England. It was only six weeks into their relationship when Jane picked up and moved operations again, they hadn’t so much broken up as had really intense goodbye sex. Not that there was anything to breakup since they’d never labeled it. They liked each other, and they had potential, but their timing was bad. And quite frankly, that wasn’t something that was going to change anytime soon. He had his degree to finish, and had no desire to leave his home country. Darcy meanwhile was putting down roots in New York. Weak and tentative as they were, she could see them growing.
So this morning when she had opened up her Facebook feed to see pictures of Ian making out with some blonde, Darcy couldn’t say she felt betrayed. Just a little bit nostalgic and sad. Her day hadn’t gotten much better from there. She spent the majority chasing after Tony ‘don’t hand me things’ Stark for signatures, Peter had upset Darcy’s filing system, and someone (she strongly suspected Cho’s minion) had broken her Ursula pop vinyl. It just figured as she clocked out, finally able to escape this hellish day, Ian would decide to call her. She decided let him say his piece to her voicemail, because she was just not in the mood for that load of emotional upheaval.
What she was in the mood for was a beer and some curly fries asap. Healthy coping mechanisms be damned. On a mission, Darcy headed toward the elevators.
The digital clock mounted into the wall of the empty Stark Lobby proclaimed it was just after 7PM. Why were Wednesday’s always her late day? Ugh, who was she trying to fool? Working for Stark any day could turn into a late day. At least the hour left the generally crowded way to the exit empty. Considering the empty state of the lobby, she was a little more than startled when she heard someone appreciatively whistle behind her.
“Odin’s vagina!” she squeaked, nearly jumping out of her skin.
She heard familiar laughter behind her as she turned to give the catcaller the bird. Seeing it was Clint, she raised her other hand to match it.
The archer laughed it off before giving her what she thought might be his version of a concerned look, “You look like hell Lewis.”
“Fuck you too Barton,” she scowled.
“You keep making these promises, but you never deliver,” Clint shook his head.
“Ugh,” Darcy knocked her shoulder into his as he fell into step next to her while she headed back towards the door. “That was horribly cheesy even for you. You’re buying my rounds tonight.”
“Who said I was joking?”
They made their way to a sports bar down the street, and spent the next couple of hours drinking, and watching the Knicks get their asses handed to them. Darcy could literally feel herself unwinding as the night went on.
Around half time, Darcy saw Maria walk in looking of a table. She gave her a friendly, lazy smile when they made eye contact, and waved her over to their perch at the bar.
“Lewis, Barton,” She greeted as she sat down next to them.
“Hill,” Barton nodded.
“What’s shakin?” Darcy grinned, sliding over an untouched bottle of beer she’d just been served. “Long day?”
“Thanks,” she said in acknowledgement to the beer, “Don’t even get me started. Fury was in a mood today.”
“Yeah, Stark too,” Darcy sighed.
They put their day behind them from there, and continued on with the night trash talking the game and ordering some fried excuse for food. It was a nice night, but as far as Darcy could recall, there was no sign hinting at just how nice her night was going to get.
The three of them piled into a cab, and headed to Maria’s for a nightcap. They were laughing and arguing about music when Maria leaned over and brushed a stray lock of hair behind Darcy’s ear, her hand lingering at the hinge of her jaw. And Darcy? She leaned in and was rewarded with one of the best kisses of her life.
Sipping his bourbon, Clint watched them, from the lounge chair as Darcy climbed into Maria’s lap and trailed a line of kisses down the woman’s neck. Maria’s hand slipped under her shirt while Darcy sucked on her pulse point. She let out a groan Darcy felt more than heard as she softly scraped her teeth across her collar bones. Sitting back, Darcy took off Maria’s shirt.
“You’re beautiful,” Darcy whispered, running her finger along the edge of the newly revealed blue lace.
A warm chuckle came out of Maria unexpectedly. “Darce, you have no idea,” she slipped Darcy’s shirt off. “Jesus Christ, you’re gorgeous.”
Behind them Clint downed the rest of his drink quickly and set the glass down on the coffee table with just a bit too much force. The bang having grabbed the ladies’ attention, they turned toward him. Taking in the pure desire in Clint’s gaze, Darcy decided she wanted him to be a part of whatever happened tonight.
Giving her attention back to Maria, Darcy tilted her head questioningly, “I think our boy Barton is waiting for an invitation. Should we give him one, or is this an exclusive party?”
Maria’s smile looked downright predatory as she looked over at Clint. Her eyes slide back over to the woman in her lap, Maria replied, “I think he might make the guest list,” before taking Dary’s lower lip between her teeth and sliding her tongue over it.
Pulling away with a with an excited whimper, Darcy turned back around and held her hand out to the archer. Clint wasted no time taking her proffered hand, crowding the women as he came to a rest on his knees next to Maria’s seat on the couch. They quickly made it to the bedroom, and spent the rest of the night accordingly.
The next morning Darcy could not find it in herself to blame it on the alcohol. Four beers, a fruity rum drink, and half a glass of bourbon over five hours did not make for drunken hookups much less impromptu threesomes. She sat up squinting against the morning light shining in through Maria’s sheer curtains taking a minute to get her bearings. Leaning over the bed, she grabbed her phone out of last night’s skirt making a face when the clock read 6:43AM.
“How long have you been awake?” Clint grumbled, sliding his hand up her bare thigh.
“A few minutes.”
The lump under the comforter groaned expressing annoyance, and a hand appeared out from under it pushing at Clint’s bicep. Considering they’d only gone to sleep 2 hours ago, Darcy considered it a reasonable reaction on Maria’s part.
Darcy made to get up, but Clint pulled at the leg in his hold continuing to trail his fingers up to her still wet pussy.
“I have go home and get ready for work,” Darcy protested weakly.
Clint grinned up at her as she opened her legs wider for him, his fingers opening up her slit, one finger working its way into her. He let his thumb brush against her clit, “You sure you can’t stay just for a couple of minutes?” A second finger slid in, and Darcy pushed back against his hand, getting off quickly.
He gave her a smug smirk, “Sorry, did I make you late?” and proceeded to suck his slick fingers into his mouth, sliding them back out nice and slow.
‘Challenge accepted,’ Darcy decided leaning down to brush her lips against his.
Sitting up and straddling him, Darcy took his half hard length in her hand, stroking firmly. Maria finally poked her head out from under the covers.
Darcy leaned down and kissed the side of her mouth, “Good morning,” before sitting back up. Clint, however, reached over and dragged Maria further out of her cocoon to pull her into a deep kiss.
Moving herself to straddle his knees, Darcy leaned down, and swirled her tongue around his crown before taking him into her mouth with hollowed cheeks.
“Fuck!” Clint all but yelped, his hips lifting up helplessly. Darcy let him fuck shallowly into her mouth, grabbing his hand, and lacing it into her hair. She placed one of her hands at his base to control the depth of his thrusts, and used the other to massage his balls gently. He pulled lightly at her hair with Maria kissing her way down his body, stopping to play with his nipples. A favorite pleasure zone of his they’d learned the night before.
“Darcy, I’m gonna come.” Clint warned in a panting, strained voice.
Darcy hummed her agreement and was swallowing the promised ejaculation less than a minute later. The bitter taste slightly less pleasant than her stale morning breath. Her mouth came off his cock with a filthy slurp, and he groaned roughly at the sound. Clint pulled Maria back into a kiss as Darcy rested her cheek on his abdomen, giving the muscle there a playful bite.
Next to the trio, Darcy’s phone chirped with a text. She reached for the iPhone (she kept it to piss off Stark) blindly. She found it after a couple of blind searches, and pulled it down to eye level, sliding her thumb across the screen, and typing in her password to read a text from Jane.
Where are you? I’ve been knocking on your door for five minutes :[
“Balls,” Darcy muttered under her breath.
I’m not home…
Seriously???? I want details when you come to trick me into eating at lunch!
Opening her camera, she pointed it up at her bed partners and clicked the large white button. The shutter sound went off, and Maria’s eyebrows hiked.
“What was that for?”
Darcy propped her chin on her right arm across Clint. “Posterity's sake.”
“And is anyone going to see this posterity?”
“Probably Jane,” Darcy admitted. “Is that okay?”
They both shrugged, simultaneously saying, “Whatever.” “No one else.”
“Cool,” Darcy smiled, quickly sending the photo to the encrypted file she and Jane shared for their more promiscuous memes captioning it Three’s Company.
Looking at the time once more, Darcy grimaced. “I have to be at work in less than an hour.” Getting up she pulled on her skirt and bra, not even bothering to look for her destroyed underwear. “I guess I’ll see you guys later?” She offered as she realized her shirt was still in the living room.
Much the way she had done to Clint the night before, Maria held out her hand for her. Darcy took it and leaned down into a soft kiss.
“Have a nice day Darcy.”
“You too,” Darcy smiled leaning over to give Clint a soft peck on the cheek.
()
Jane hadn’t checked her phone all morning having gotten caught up in her work. It was only when Darcy came in with two huge bowls of Mac & Cheese that Jane remembered their morning texts.
“Where were you this morning?” Jane demanded in a sing songy voice that very much let on she knew the gist of what Darcy had been up to.
“Oh my God,” Darcy was suddenly avoiding eye contact. “Check your phone.”
Jane opened her phone not seeing any new texts...from Darcy anyways. Then she noticed the new file notification in their encryption folder. Jane opened it and gawked. And then continued to gawk.
“Stop already. You’re freaking me out,” Darcy huffed.
Jane looked up at her blinking excessively.
“Shit, did I break you?” Darcy panicked. “Quick what’s the 30th digit of pi?”
“Nine,” Jane answered blankly.
“Is that right?” Darcy questioned quickly opening her phone to check.
“Why would you ask me if you didn’t… Nevermind, I don’t care. Details!”
“Huh, you’re right,” Darcy was still looking down at her phone.
“Of course I’m right,” Jane snapped. “Now, tell me more about this!” she gestured to her phone.
“I don’t know okay,” Darcy whined. “I don’t know how it happened. It just did. I was having a no good, very bad day and then I was with Clint and Maria at the sports bar down the street and then we were in her bed having some of the best sex. I don’t even know.” She collapsed into one of Jane’s chairs pulling a bowl of cheesy goodness closer and shoveling three bites into her mouth one after another before even beginning to chew.
“That’s attractive,” Jane scrunched her nose sitting down across from her friend. “I can see what attracted them.”
Darcy very maturely started to chew with her mouth open.
“Gross!” Jane protested. After a few minutes of eating in silence, she asked, “So is it gonna happen again?”
“I don’t know,” Darcy shrugged. “I hope so?”
“Is that a question or an answer?”
“I hate you,” Darcy pouted. “But it was good. I definitely would be up for it again.”
“You did call it ‘some of the best sex,’” Jane agreed.
Perking up quickly, Darcy leered at Jane, “The things that woman can do with her tongue.”
“Never mind, I don’t want to know!”
“And Clint’s likes to be held down,” Darcy continued on with a wicked grin. “You know how I like that.”
“Stop!” Jane pleaded.
“But I haven’t even started with how-”
Jane flung a spoonful of macaroni at her stopping Darcy mid sentence.
“Did you just?” Darcy asked bewilderedly before suddenly regaining her wicked gleam and flinging her own spoonful at a screeching Jane who immediately retaliated. They went back and forth until it was a full out food fight.
Their excited shrieks attracted the attention of their coworkers as scientists ran into the lab to see what all the screaming was about only to be pelted with pasta causing them to flee. By the time Banner and Stark in the neighboring lab pried themselves away from their research to check out the commotion, all they found were a cheese covered Jane and Darcy laughing on the floor.
“What the hell is going on here?” Tony asked.
“Nothing,” Darcy and Jane answered quickly before falling into another fit of giggles.
“They finally snapped,” Tony stage whispered to Bruce. “We’ve been preparing for this. You get the helmets, I’ll get the jackets.”
“Screw you,” Darcy muttered with much less bite than usual.
Jane’s eyes widened at her friend, “Just him or both of them?”
Both women devolved back into cackling laughter once again. The men backed away slowly.
()
Jane was briefing the Avengers about a new astrological phenomena that had unleashed slimy, mutant sloths from the sky. Thor had listed off some proper alien species name when they first appeared, but as far as Darcy was concerned slimy, mutant sloths were the only title they needed. The Avengers had defeated them, but they wanted to know what brought on the attack to make sure no other battles were on the horizon.
Darcy was killing time waiting for Jane so they could go out for drinks on her Facebook feed when she saw a picture of one of the sloths clinging to Bucky’s back. She quickly saved the picture and uploaded it to Snapchat for Jane to see captioning it Let’s hug it out. A quick look through the conference room glass wall revealed Jane was headed back to her seat apparently done with her presentation.
No longer presenting her analysis, Jane snuck a look at her phone under the desk as the meeting ended and let out an amused snort. Most of the higher ups like Fury and Hill continued out of the room, but Natasha and the victim of the sloth hug turned thier to her. Darcy turned tail and ran deciding to wait for her friend in the lobby.
()
“What’s so funny?” Natasha asked.
“Nothing,” Jane quickly locked her phone and slid it back into her pocket. Nothing at all suspicious about the gesture of course.
“Right,” Natasha agreed deadpan.
“Fury’s ‘meeting adjourned’ your touch of humor?” Bucky questioned.
“Yep,” Jane nodded.
From the other side of Bucky, Steve shook his head with an amused grin, “You’re a horrible liar, Foster.”
“Yep,” Jane nodded again. “I’m gonna go.”
She rushed out the door, her fist firmly clutched around her phone in her pocket to make sure none of the elite, curious spies nicked it. Once on the elevator she texted Darcy.
You’re buying all my drinks tonight
Last time I said that to someone I had a threesome ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
I’m getting top shelf
I’m sorry! I crossed a line.
Too late
()
Jane was getting a little paranoid as far as Darcy was concerned. After the close call, every time Jane so much as smiled in response to something on her phone, she looked over her shoulder to make sure there weren’t any Avengers in sight. Despite the fact they were never there, Jane remained unconvinced they weren’t being watched.
They’r spies Darty, if thy don’t want 2 b sern we wont see them!!!qq as inebriated Jane had put it via text after their night out. Apparently, they might be listening, so she couldn’t say it out loud.
Darcy on the other hand was pretty sure the Avengers had better things to do with their time than find out what the astrophysicist and an office manager were giggling about behind their phones. Really, she should have known better.
()
Jane was doing her very best not to fall asleep, but this video on sexual harassment and physical violence was awful. She was going to help Darcy plot Stark’s murder for requiring them to watch this stupid thing. Although to be fair, it wasn’t his fault some stupid junior agent liked to touch his coworkers inappropriately. Or that one of the coworkers was Natasha coming in from an undercover assignment. Or that Natasha had broken the guy’s arm in three different place.
Sighing, she pulled out her phone to see how much longer they had left. Two more hours. Ugh. What with her sitting in the back of the huge auditorium, she figured no one would notice her checking her Instagram. And if they did notice, they certainly wouldn’t care.
Jane was scrolling when she saw a photo of Natasha whipping her wig off after teaching the junior agent a lesson with the guy still writhing on the floor. She put it up on Snapchat captioning it A way better deterrent to sexual harassment than any video.
Next to her Darcy pulled out her phone, and held back a laugh. She quickly responded with the Stark ID photo of the junior agent labeling it The reason physical violence exists in the workplace.
Jane smiled about to text Darcy a complaint about having to sit there for another 2 hours when her phone was plucked from her hand.
“Hey!” She whisper yelled at the perpetrator turning only to find Bucky fiddling with her open Snapchat app. Thank God, the photos were all gone. “Give it back. You can’t even see what was on there anymore it disappears,” she explained tartly.
Next to her, Darcy was desperately reaching across her for Jane’s phone, her own phone now tucked in her bra with the hand not flailing across Jane tightly grasping her chest.
“Actually, Doll…” He drawled moving the phone from Darcy’s reach.
“He can retrieve the photos you sent,” Darcy hissed, poking Bucky in the ribs harshly.
“Oh my God,” Jane cried throwing herself across Bucky to try and get her phone back but it was passed onto Steve just as she got close. “No!”
By now half the room was looking at them.
Suddenly, Steve sat up in his seat straighter than before. And how was that even possible?
“Got it,” he confirmed and quickly started scrolling meme after meme and becoming more and more entertained as he went on. Buck, Natasha, and Clint were all reading over his shoulder laughing along with him.
“Excuse me,” the instructor seeming to have finally woken up from his snooze fest, and paused the video. “You need to pay attention to the video in order to be released.”
“Sure thing.” “Sorry.” “It’s not my fault!” all answers coming at once.
“Whatever it is, take care of it after the seminar.” He scolded them gruffly turning back to the DVD player to restart the video.
“You guys suck,” Jane pouted as they handed her back her phone.
()
Darcy clutched her phone guarding boob for the rest of the seminar, and thanked Mew Mew they’d thought to create that encrypted file.
Not everyone has a soul mark. About 5% of the population never gets one. It's just something that happens, like red hair. You might stand out, but it's not a big deal. So when Darcy Lewis goes the first 15 years of her life without one, she really doesn't care. She doesn't care about soul marks period. Not until hers shows up that is.
"Oh my God!" Darcy screeches from the bathroom. "Ohmygodohmygodohmygod!"
By the time her mother busts in the room, Darcy is hyperventilating on the floor.
"Darcy, what's wrong?" her mother kneels in front of her.
"It's, it's, it's a, it's a s-ssoul-" she breaks off into hysterical sobs.
"Darcy!" her mother takes her by the shoulders as her sister and grandmother peek into the bathroom to check on all the commotion. "You need to calm down. Take a deep breath, and tell me what's going on."
Typical Darcy, she doesn't obey her mother, but she does open her legs wide, and point down at her inner thigh. The cotton pajama shorts she has on ride up her legs to show off neat cursive script proclaiming Is playing in traffic your idea of fun or something?
And Talia Lewis doesn't know what it says about her as a mother that her first thought is to scold Darcy for this alleged future offense.
"I have a soul mate!" Her daughter spits out seemingly past her hysterics having moved onto anger.
From the doorway Darcy's older sister, Noemi, laughs, "Oh my God Darce, your soul mate is 15 years younger than you!"
Talia knows for sure she's a horrible mother when her next thought is that somewhere some poor baby has her daughter's chicken scratch handwriting etched into their skin.
"Well if you had to get a soul mark at least it's scandalous," Maddie, Darcy's grandmother offers.
"No, this isn't happening," Darcy declares standing up. "It's a mistake, Or a joke. It was you, wasn't it?!" she accuses her sister, "I swear to God Noe, if this is some prank, I'm going to kill you."
"It wasn't me," Noemi lifts her arms in innocence.
Darcy starts rubbing at the mark testing to see if it will smudge. When it doesn't, she becomes more frantic scrubbing harder and harder until it starts turning red. "Get it off! Get it off!"
Talia grabs her daughter, "Darcy that's enough. You're hurting yourself. It's okay. Everything is going to be okay."
Two and half weeks later when the mark grays out, Darcy thinks about her soul mate for the first time as a human being. According to everything she's read in the last two weeks, something is seriously wrong with them if her mark is faded. Darcy uses her limited hacking skills to check out the patient lists in the ICUs of local hospitals, but doesn't find anyone the right age. It doesn't strike out though, so he's not dead according to most of the scientific and medical journals. Journals that have studied soul marks for centuries and come up with very few answers. Stupid scientists.
Over the next few years, she watches as the mark goes from a bold, dark black to a barely there gray.
At eighteen, she gets very drunk and comes home to her grandmother baking at 2am. It's a house full of women. The Lewis women who pride themselves on being weird, wild, and soul mark free. They're always up to something at any given time, so it's not as if she expected to come home to a house full of sleeping people. It's just she's incredibly intoxicated, and her grandmother always has the answers.
Darcy levers herself up onto the counter and watches silently as her grandmother tuts around the kitchen, and dammit she's not going to cry right now. She's not, it's just her eyes are dry.
Without a word, her grandmother pours her a cup of coffee and hands it to her. She waits.
"Maddie," a grandmother by 41, she'd refused to go by anything resembling grandma, so her grandkids had always called her by her first name. "This kid is going to have such a fucked up life. I mean he's some sickly child, maybe just a sickly human being in general, and he's going to end up with some old lady."
"What are you talking about?"
"My soul mate!" Darcy rolls her eyes. It's obvious after all isn't it? What a silly question Maddie. Gah!
"Watch your mouth Darcy."
"I guess I said that out loud huh?"
Maddie nods. "Look, that kid is going to be incredibly lucky. And anyone who ends up with you- my smart, beautiful, brave, wild, scandalous grandbaby- and thinks they aren’t the luckiest person on the planet? They can go to hell."
Maddie always has the answers.
Darcy is twenty when a second soul mark appears on her skin. It's written across the small of her back, and she doesn't even notice it for three weeks. She's not even the one who notices it. No, that honor goes to some random she picks up in a bar in Puente Antiguo.
That's an interesting trick in tiny block writing scrawled across her back, so inconspicuously written, it almost looks like it's apologizing for taking up space.
"You have two soul marks?" The random asks. From behind her. Inside of her.
Darcy's meltdown makes fifteen year old her crying on the bathroom floor look calm.
When Darcy goes home for the last two weeks of summer, Talia despairs for another soul going around with her daughter's horrible excuse for handwriting on them, Noemi outright cackles, and her grandmother makes Darcy promise to take Maddie to live with her when she opens her harem and praises her tastes in inappropriately younger men.
If Maddie only knew then what she does now, she would have gotten it in writing.
~~~WINTERSHIELDSHOCK~~~~
Three years later, when long lost soul mates Steve and Bucky are reunited and settled into their new life, they share their new marks with each other. They have a lot of questions about this new addition to their life. They hope it's the same person, but mostly they wonder what kind of person uses such strange greetings on such a regular basis.
Get out of the way is scribbled across Bucky's hip.
You’re not a toddler is not the most ideal or romantic thing to have written right above your ass. Bucky makes enough jokes that Steve comes to understand this very quickly.
A/N: I feel like this old USB is going to haunt me. How did I forget about all of these stories I started? I liked this one a lot, hopefully I can continue it.
Caroline stood on the edge of the subway platform lookingdown the dark tunnel. This was a bad idea of epic proportions. A voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like her long estranged mother was telling her if the government ever declared war on stupidity, she’d get nuked. Actually, no, calling what she was considering stupid was an insult to stupid people everywhere.
Normally, this was the point where Caroline would take a step back and come up with a plan. Caroline always had a plan. Then again, normally her father wasn’t being held captive by three werewolves thanks to one of her plans. Werewolves who had apparently seen way too secret agent/spy movies if their escape into the subway tunnels with an unconscious Bill Forbes was any indication.
Her father was the only person she had in this world. He and her mother split up when she was seven, and her mother’s work hours had persuaded a judge to grant her father custody. She had only seen her mom a few times a year after that. Consequently, they weren’t close. Of course, the judge didn’t know her dad kept some pretty intense hours himself hunting the supernatural. The judge and her mother also didn’t know Caroline had spent most of her childhood living out of a suitcase traveling from one motel to the next as they chased after all the things that went bump in the night.
Her father had taught her about the supernatural and trained her to hunt insisting the more in the know she was the better prepared she would be if ever there came a time she needed to defend herself. The time had come when she was twelve. A vampire, who had thought her easy prey, had found himself vervained and staked through the heart. Boy, had her dad been surprised when he got back from picking up their dinner.
After that first taste, Caroline had started taking a more active approach to hunting rather than just doing research in the motel room waiting for her dad to get back. Bill had caught her sneaking out to go on a hunt on several occasions. After realizing he couldn’t stop her, he had agreed to take her on the occasional hunt with him so he could at least keep an eye on her. By the time she was fourteen, she was a full-fledged hunter. Most of the time, it was Caroline who tracked down their cases and decided where their next hunt would be.
When she had seen articles claiming animal attacks were on the rise in New York City, she just couldn’t resist. She’d always wanted to visit the Big Apple. And now thanks to her bang up idea to follow the werewolves, her father had been kidnapped.
Going after them into unfamiliar territory with no back up was a toss up between brainless and suicidal, and Caroline knew it. Nonetheless, after checking to make sure no one else was around, she jumped down onto the tracks landing in a crouched position. She sprang out of the position taking off down the tunnel; making sure her black combat boots- with the hot pink shoelaces her dad loved to roll his eyes at- made as little noise as possible. Caroline slowed her pace as she felt the ground start to shake, and a bright light shone.
“Shit!” Caroline quickly jumped off the tracks up onto a small ledge running along either side of the tunnel and stood as flatly against the wall as possible. She held her breath as the train passed.
Once the locomotive had disappeared, Caroline jumped back down and assessed her surroundings. There was no way three large werewolves and an unconscious man could have escaped that train. That meant they weren’t in the tunnels anymore.
She pulled a small but powerful flashlight from her belt to get a better look. She continued her search making sure to look at every nook and cranny. After about five minutes, she saw a grate large enough for the men to have made their escape through.
“Well would you look at that,” she whispered to herself seeing a broken padlock tossed carelessly on the ground. She opened the unlocked grate and entered. It was just big enough for her to stand.
Good. If the men were traveling with the dead weight of her father and hunched over, she would be able to catch up more quickly. Closing the grate behind herself, she pulled a small gun from the holster under her jacket and took off the safety. She held her gun out and brought the flashlight up next to it.
It seemed like an eternity before she heard the sound of voices coming from up ahead. She turned off her flashlight, and waited until her eyes adjusted to the dingy lighting before she moved again.
“So your buddies took off without you, huh?” she could hear her dad taunting.
“They’ll be back,” the apparently lone wolf growled.
Bill let out a short, condescending chuckle, “Yeah, I gathered, but in the mean time you’re babysitting me. What does that make you? Pack bitch?”
Caroline was unsurprised to hear the smack of a fist against a face. The Forbes mouth was going to get one of them killed one of these days.
Making sure to be stealthy, she got close enough to distinguish the figures in front of her. Her father was hunched over with his back toward her from the blow he had just taken.
Caroline trained her gun on the wolf, “That’s enough. Let him go,” she demanded with much more confidence than she felt.
Both men turned toward her.
“You gonna shoot me, little girl?” and he actually had the nerve to sneer.
“I’d say no, but I’ve never been a very good liar,” she answered with false sweetness.
He continued sneering obviously not threatened by the teenaged blonde in her pink leather jacket, black leggings, and matching boots. Of course, he wouldn’t feel so confident if he could see the hunter tattoos under her jacket. “Shouldn’t you be off shopping or planning your sweet sixteen or something?” he asked condescendingly.
“Actually,” Caroline glared, “I am supposed to be shopping right now, but you just had to go and ruin my plans. I’m seventeen, so unfortunately you missed the spectacular event that was my sixteenth birthday. Let me demonstrate how I spent it.” With that she pulled the trigger.
The guy didn’t have a chance to react as dart hit his neck. He cried out in agony and sunk to his knees reaching for the dart, but Caroline took the opportunity to put another dart in him. He passed out as the second dart drained into him, the wolfsbane spreading through his system.
“Now that’s how I like to party,” Caroline smiled turning toward her dad. “Let’s get out of here before his friends try and crash.”
Bill followed behind her, “Anyone ever tell you bantering with the villain is bad form?”
“Oh you’re one to talk,” she rolled her eyes. “What does that make you? Pack bitch?” she dropped her voice a couple of octaves to imitate him.
“That’s different. I was strategically slowing us down.”
“Right,” Caroline put a sarcastic emphasis on the ‘i’ in the word.
They both laughed at his blatant fabrication. Caroline more so since it made Bill’s face ache even more.
“Hey,” Bill stopped them. “I think that’s a man hole.” He pointed toward a ladder. “We should take it.”
“Okay,” she shrugged.
She went first, climbing the ladder and sliding the cover over the man hole out of the way. Still weary of the remaining werewolves, she climbed out gun in hand. A sound from below startled her. Apparently, the others hadn’t been far. One was holding her father and the other was climbing up after her.
Caroline made to go back down and shoot them but she was stopped by a loud, stern yell. “Ma’am put the gun down!” a large man in a police uniform demanded with his own gun drawn.
“Officer!” she cried loudly hoping the wolves would run. And they did, with her father in tow once more.
Crap
“Put the gun down!” he repeated.
Left with no other choice, she obeyed.
“Now slowly climb the rest of the way out with your hands visible at all times.”
Once again, Caroline did as told.
“On your knees, hands behind your head.”
When she had assumed the position, he cuffed her and patted her down. He confiscated the silver plated hunting knife she had spend hours customizing with a wooden lining along the dull side and the words ‘bite me’ engraved into the handle as well as her flashlight. He read her Miranda rights as he escorted her to his squad car.
“I want my phone call,” Caroline insisted once more as they sat at a desk in the middle of the busy station.
“Fine,” the officer grunted shoving the phone on his desk toward her as he continued to fill out paper work.
Using the hand not currently cuffed to the officer’s desk, she dialed the familiar number.
“Why is someone calling me from NYP-?” John Gilbert answered wearily.
“Hey Dad,” Caroline interrupted. “Listen, Uncle Bill and I were enjoying our vacation in the city that never sleeps, and we got ourselves into a little trouble.”
“Caroline?”
“Yep,” she confirmed. “So are you going to come bail me out or what?”
The officer looked at her like she was crazy before scribbling down something on the stack of papers.
“Why can’t Uncle Bill do it?”
“He’s tied up,” Caroline prayed desperately he understood what she was trying to communicate. “I couldn’t get a hold of him if I tried.”
“I’ve told him a thousand times you’re too young to be doing this. He needs a real hunting partner,” John grouched, “He’s going to get you or himself kill-”
“I’ve been doing this for ten years!” Caroline snapped but stopped the rest of her rant from spewing out her mouth. Taking a deep breath she asked, “Where are you?”
“Not too far actually. Connecticut. I’ll be there soon,” the line went dead.
Caroline addressed the officer, “He’s in Connecticut but he says he’ll be here soon.”
Twelve hours later, Caroline was stewing in a holding cell ready to rip John’s head off. She was imagining putting his decapitated head on a spike when a young officer came to the cell she was sharing with several other women.
“Forbes,” he called.
“Finally,” Caroline grunted getting up from the bench she was seated on.
The officer took her to the front where she was greeted by a sight that made her want to return to the holding cell.
“Mom?”
Liz Forbes wore a frown, “Hello Caroline. I see your father has been doing well by you,” she snarked.
“Have you…” Caroline looked around the crowded station, “seen him?”
“He’s waiting for us at the hotel,” she answered dryly.
Caroline let out a sigh of relief as her mom finished filling out some final paperwork. She collected her things, and she and her mom walked outside in silence where they hailed a cab.
After a few minutes, Liz spoke up, “I talked them out of pressing charges.”
“Thanks,” Caroline said with a dry throat. This could not end well.
Once inside the hotel room, after hugging her father, Caroline walked up to John and punched him in the gut without warning.
“Caroline!” both her parents reprimanded but her father’s smirk revealed his true sentiment.
Doubled over, John wheezed, “You’re welcome for saving your father’s life, Caroline,” and slowly lowered himself down onto one of the queen beds.
Bill placed a hand on his daughter’s shoulder when he saw her take a threatening step forward. “We have things to discuss,” he said solemnly.
Being an astute girl, Caroline had already put most of it together on the cab ride over. Her mom was there to take her back to Mystic Falls.
“No,” Caroline answered simply. “I’m not going.”
“We’re not asking,” Bill crossed his arms. “This life isn’t safe for you Caroline.”
Caroline mirrored his pose, “But it is for you?”
“I’m an adult.”
“That’s a bunch of bull,” she huffed. “I’ll be eighteen in a few months.”
“And you never had a childhood, or teenage angst, or any friendships,” her mother spoke up.
“That’s-” she tried.
“She’s right Caroline. I took those things away from you; because I was scared of things you probably could have, should have lived your entire life not knowing anything about.”
“You made me strong,” Caroline argued.
“But I forgot to make you human,” Bill countered. “How are you supposed to know what you’re fighting to protect if you never experience it? You’ve given countless people the opportunity to go on living their everyday lives when you don’t even know what that really means.”
Looking at the three resolved faces surrounding her, Caroline resigned herself to her fate, banished to a normal civilian life in Mystic Falls, Virginia.
A/N: another thing I found on an old USB. I really loved this when I was working on it. I can't believe I forgot about it. I definitely want to write more for it!
Caroline rolled her eyes at Bonnie’s pun, but Elena giggledloudly sipping on her fifth glass of champagne. The three best friends were heading to Las Vegas on a chartered plane to wave Elena’s bachelorette years off with style. After years of a sordid, almost scandalous, love triangle with the two Salvatore brothers Elena had finally made a choice and was settling down with her true love.
After so many years of Elena being in a constant state of angst, Caroline couldn’t bring herself to be annoyed by her friend’s inebriation. It was nice to see Elena having fun for once.
They’d been several hundred feet in the air before Elena discovered small planes made her a nervous flier. With few other options, they had opened a bottle of bubbly to placate her nerves. The expensive brand, Caroline didn’t recognize, had gone straight to the bride’s head. Wishing she could say the same, Caroline finished the rest of the champagne in her flute quickly.
There was a time in her life when she would have begrudged her good friend for marrying into the Salvatore name. The Salvatore’s came from Money, capital M necessary, hence why the girls were currently seated on a private plane headed to a luxurious hotel suite. Not to mention, her husband-to-be was crazy about her. Elena was one lucky girl. But Caroline had grown past petty jealousy, and truly wished her friend nothing but happiness.
Still, she couldn’t quite get herself into the partying mood her other two friends were in. Her recent break up with her on-again off-again boyfriend, Tyler, had seen to that. They had a fiery, passionate relationship over the years that had its share of ups and downs, but this time she was certain they had parted for good. It wasn’t exactly a surprise things between them hadn’t ended in happily ever after, but the way things had ended still stung. Caroline had never been a cheater, and she resented the accusation insinuating she was one in their final blowout. It stayed with her even now, two months later.
“Is there anything stronger to drink?” Caroline asked determined to start putting her troubles behind her, for now at least.
“Oh, Care Bear,” Elena rested her head on her friend’s shoulder comfortingly and slung her arm around her. “You need to forget about that jerk.”
“I know, it’s just Ty-”
“No!” Elena interrupted pointing at Caroline and instructing, “We will not talk about him, we will not think about him, we’re not even going to say his name.”
“As ill advised as it may be to take advice from the drunk girl, she’s right,” Bonnie agreed setting down a glass of freshly poured bourbon in front of the blonde, “You need to find a smokin’ rebound Vegas style so you can put that asshole behind you.”
“I don’t know,” Caroline hedged.
Bonnie and Elena shared a look that didn’t go unnoticed.
“What?” she looked back and forth at her friends. “What?” she asked again when they didn’t answer.
“I didn’t want to tell you until after our trip, but Tyler sent in his RSVP,” Elena tightened her arm around Caroline.
“Oh,” she whispered softly.
“That’s not all,” Bonnie sat down on Caroline’s other side. “He’s bringing a plus one.”
“Oh,” she repeated.
Bonnie pushed the bourbon closer to her. Finishing it off in one gulp, Caroline set the glass back down harshly, “I’m going to need another drink.”
Ever the dutiful friend, Bonnie retrieved the bottle from the bar.
+++
Caroline cursed her days as a party girl in college. She could hardly call herself tipsy when the plane landed, and by the time they reached the hotel she was completely sober. Elena on the other hand had always been a bit of a goody-two-shoes.
“Wow!” the champagne happy girl spun around in the middle of the large sitting room under the high vaulted ceiling. “This is amazing.”
“Shot gun the shower!” Caroline called over her shoulder passing by the others as she headed toward the bedroom, “Private plane or not, I always feel icky after a long flight.”
Elena giggled as she equal parts sat and fell onto the sleek, modern couch.
Bonnie rolled her eyes affectionately at her friend’s antics, “I’m fixing you some coffee.”
“That’s probably a good idea,” Elena nodded, smiling drunkenly from the couch.
Elena lay prone still on the couch and Bonnie went about unpacking their bags as they waited for the coffee to brew. Bonnie had just finished when the timer on the coffee pot sounded.
“Just how long does it take Caroline to shower?” Elena asked as Bonnie passed her to get the coffee from the suite’s full kitchen.
“Anywhere from 15 minutes to an hour,” she answered from her experience as the blonde’s former roommate. “If it’s half as luxurious as the rest of this place, she’ll be at least an hour if not longer. She might even run herself a bath.”
“What does she do in there?” she asked perplexed, accepting a mug from Bonnie.
“How would I know?” Bonnie raised an eyebrow, “Ask her yourself.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Elena sipped at her coffee. “I’m not Tyler.”
“He’s such an idiot,” Bonnie huffed.
“Agreed,” Elena sighed.
“I can’t believe he thought Caroline cheated on him with me!” Bonnie exclaimed, still exasperated and offended on her friend’s behalf.
“Whether she admits it or not, you know she only agreed to that threesome with Vicki because he wanted it,” Elena shook her head. “And then he gets all paranoid and insecure because she actually enjoyed it? It doesn’t make any sense! If he couldn’t handle it he shouldn’t have asked for it.”
“He doesn’t make any sense, period,” Bonnie concluded, leaning back against the couch and crossing her arms over her chest.
“I wish Care wasn’t so hung up on him. He’s not worth it.”
“Definitely not worth it,” Bonnie agreed.
Elena sat up at attention suddenly, “I know what we can do to help her!”
“What?” Bonnie asked tepidly. Elena’s spur of the moment ideas didn’t always pan out for the best.
“It’s like you said on the plane,” Elena explained, “She needs a one night stand. Something to shake Tyler out of her system.”
A/N: Just another thing I found on an old USB. I don't even remember writing it, but it was a fun piece to read, lol. No plans to continue.
They’ll write ‘John Doe’ on his headstone, because he’s in stupid America, but he’s okay with that.
He’ll die of a shot to the head by a .22, a girl gun, and he’s surprisingly okay with that too.
What he’s not okay with is, as he looks down the barrel of the stupid girly gun, the last thing flashing through his head is her name. He’s one of maybe a dozen people in the world who know her real name. He is also in a much less exclusive group of people who would like to see her dead.
A window breaks somewhere downstairs and his shooter gets jumpy, narrowing his eyes and tightening his grasp on the trigger.
The first time he met her outside that Asian restaurant flashes through his head.
“Hi I’m Farren,” the young girl giggled.
“Larry,” he responded taking her small hand in his and forgetting for a second he was there to do a job.
It was the first time he tried to kill her.
By the end of the week he found himself with both a scar and an enemy he’d have for life. Who would have thought that sweet, pretty girl would end up working for the CIA one day?
More crashes and smoke fills the room. He only gets to cough once before the butt of the shotgun comes flying into his face and the world goes black.
If anyone was going to kill Larry Gorbachov, reformed Russian mobster and current FSB operative, it was going to be her. If some stupid Japanese underworld crime boss thinks they can take the pleasure, they’d be mistaken.
“Alright E are the birds in flight?” she asks her techie of a brother through the comm. The NSA might have trained him for the field but Ian’s heart has always resided in his computer. Dork.
“You’ve got ten minutes on my signal to get in and out of there, but can I just ask why we’re here trying to save the guy who nearly destroyed our family at the risk of our own jobs?” Ian’s dork voice sounds in her ear.
“Because F has the hots for him E,” her smartass little sister Nora answers through the comm. from where she’s positioned on the west side of the building.
“Shut it N,” Farren growls. “Focus.”
“This is what I do,” Nora purrs into the comm. cockily. She’s Army all the way so her attitude is just part of the job. It’s still annoying as shit though.
It’s not everyday CIA, NSA, and Army pull together for a job… actually they never do. What they’re doing is kind of, maybe, illegal; but family sticks together, and they insisted on tagging along when they heard Farren was ‘doing something stupid’ in Ian’s words.
Honestly, she doesn’t know why she’s doing this. Larry and she have a long, sorted history.
They’ve been foes, they’ve been allies. She’d even go so far as to say they’ve been friends. Hell, they’ve been more than friends, but ever since her last days of that Russian op they’ve been closer to mortal enemies than anything else.
But for some reason when she heard some thugs hiding in Arizona of all places had Larry and were planning on killing him her heart stopped. She had to do something.
“Alright go!” Ian shouts.
Farren and Nora release a smoke grenade each. Shots fly over their heads from the panicked men inside. Seven tranquillized baddies later and the sisters are making their way up the stairs with their brother in their ears directing them to the remaining heat signals detected via satellite.
“That was kinda fun,” Nora smirks checking around the corner with her Glock out in front of her, tailing Farren.
“It’ll be more fun if you guys get out of there before the place blows,” Ian says tersely through the comm. “Five minutes left. I only see two heat signatures on the second floor.”
“Don’t get your panties in a wad. We’re working on it Big Brother,” Nora puns.
“Har har,” Ian laughs dryly and without humor before a shot goes off. “Are you guys okay?!” he yells worriedly into the comm.
“Yes, I got the bad guy while you two were arguing. Now go sit in your separate corners for five minutes and think about what you’ve done,” Farren answers.
“You don’t have five minutes, get the hell out of there!” Ian yells.
“Would you quit yelling? You’re not shouting to us from location; we can hear you plain as day over the comm.” Nora complains.
“GET! OUT! NOW!” Ian screams sarcastically.
“There’s a problem,” Nora sighs.
“Problem? There can’t be a problem; you have less than four minutes before the whole place goes Ka-Boom!” Ian stresses, “Oh my God. What’s the problem?”
“The prisoner is out cold,” Farren tells him.
“Come on you evil Russian you, wakey wakey, eggs n’ bakey,” Nora sing-songs poking him in the ribs with her gun.
“Fuck,” Ian types madly into the computer, “I can’t buy you time. They’re too close.”
“Dammit Larry wake the fuck up!” Farren yells frustrated, kneeling over and back handing him.
Larry gasps sitting up right quickly as if waking up from a nightmare. Each girl tugs on an arm to help him up and run for the door with Larry in tow.
“We’ve got him, and we’re headed your way E. Be ready!” Nora snaps forgetting her own rule about yelling into the comm.
The three are fifteen feet from an unmarked van as two drones fly overhead and drop explosives on the warehouse they just exited. They jump down to avoid debris propelled outward by the force of the explosion.
The back doors of the van burst open and Ian jumps out.
“Are you guys okay,” he asks taking inventory of their body parts.
“I’m just dandy,” Nora snarks standing and brushing off her clothes and the other two follow suit. Nora and Ian make their way to the front seats of the van leaving Farren and Larry to gather their wits.
“Well I never thought I’d say these words again, but nice to see you Farren,” Larry says turning toward the only woman to ever have any real staying power in his life, even if most of the time they were trying to kill each other.
They had their moments, like the first time they worked undercover together in Moscow. The first time he kissed her they were stationed in St. Petersburg. She tasted like the sun and cherries, both things severely lacking in the harsh Russian winter. They spent a short time as lovers in South Africa only to break it off when they got back to D.C. and were sent on assignment in New York. Somewhere in between, he bought her a diamond he never gave her.
They didn’t go back to trying to kill each other until their perspective governments assigned them the task of burning each other. They called it a draw where they’re alliance began, Moscow. The last time they saw each other she was holding a rocket launcher and he was palming the remote of a bomb.
It had been two years.
“Get in the van,” Farren says turning and following her own command.
Not a minute later they are all racing through the desert of Arizona.
“Where do we go from here?” Ian asks breaking the heavy silence.
“Uncle Colton is probably least likely to imprison us all,” Nora suggests only half joking.
“Probably,” Farren sighs from her seat on the floor and bangs her head against the back of Nora’s passenger seat.
“Bob is going to flip,” Ian states in a solemn tone.
“Bob is going to kill us,” Nora clarifies.
“Probably,” Farren sighs again.
“He’ll definitely kill me. Literally,” Larry groans.
“Probably,” the three others voice their agreement.
A/N: I found this incomplete story on an old USB drive. I don't really have plans to continue it, but I feel it has enough to stand on it's own. Enjoy!
2,837,907 people log into their computers on April 11, 2014 to watch a public execution broadcast by a serial killer going by the username Black Mask. Tonight is his seventh victim, but his eighth broadcast. With each show his viewers double, triple, or even quadruple. Some people watch in horror, others in the same morbid curiosity that causes them to pause at a train wreck, but worst are his fans who refer to his words as an absolute truth. He sells these ‘fans’ on the idea that society is built on superficial appearances, and only by stripping them of all beauty can they see the true ugliness in human nature.
In his first six online performances, the show starts with the camera zoomed on his face covered by a black, skeletal mask that reflects the harsh spotlight surrounding his victim as he rants on about the darkness in the world and Gotham’s inability to see him for the truth-teller he is. He bitingly laughs at the newspaper articles and news channels that call him a monster; the biggest terror to haunt Gotham’s streets since the Joker’s incarceration.
“You know what I really am, don’t you?” he admonishes his viewers, “I’m your savior.”
Once he’s had enough of his own voice, the camera focuses on the victim, always a pretty, young woman, strapped down to an operating table.
“Are you beautiful?” he asks as his gloved hand dips into one of several containers on the tray table next to his victim.
No answer, only a groggy groan as the girl comes out of sedation; he never receives an answer on the first try.
“And now?” he asks again smearing the goop on his hand across her beautiful face. Before the camera, her face transforms into a hideous sight as the so-called make up’s, he has used, toxins seep through her pores permanently disfiguring his victim’s face. A sizzle sounds sending a shiver down every viewer’s back; the sound of the make up melting onto bare skin. It’s a sound only identifiable to those who have lost innocence and beauty, and in Gotham that’s an experience everyone can sympathize with.
As for the victim, he still receives no answer from her; only a tortured shriek; her skin melting, reforming, hardening- never has there been a pain so excruciating.
And so the ritual goes until the tortured soul pleas for their suffering to end, finally summons the courage to form words and beg for death, and not until they answer his question with a resounding, ‘no’ are they put to death.
“Are you beautiful?”
“No,” his victims sob.
“Do you want to live in this ugly world?” he finally asks.
“No,” his once beautiful victims answer.
From there his method of execution varies- a broken neck, a gun shot to the head. How much pain does a person need to be in before decapitation by machete seems peaceful? All his victims but one would know.
Alice Shrewder, born Zelda Olav, gets caught in Black Mask’s cross hairs by mistake. Witness Protection placed her in a 9 to 5 job with her husband and kid in Gotham, not the safest place, but then Zelda wasn’t the safest woman and she certainly hadn’t come from the safest of homes or married into the safest of families. After she is over an hour late Brian, really Boris, knows she won’t be coming home, but he never imagines he will watch his wife die.
Used to torture, Zelda does not succumb to Black Mask’s questioning. The first stream of video ends as her face begins to boil like a cauldron of stew. The next night, a second video of Zelda airs. Barely alive, she stares blankly at the camera through her swollen left eye. Black Mask doesn’t bother ranting; he simply unties the once gorgeous woman from her restraints on the table.
She falls face first to the floor as Black Mask flips the table. He turns her over onto her back.
“If I take you to the hospital now they can save you,” Black Mask promises and for the first time something akin to emotion flashes across Zelda’s face. “You’ll be permanently disfigured since the make up has sat on your skin for so long, but I’ll give them the antidote to save you.”
“You don’t want to live in this ugly world?” Black Mask maniacally laughs. It’s far from a question.
The machete follows soon after.
Organized crime loves him. He takes the heat off; hell, he practically makes them look legitimate.
The petty criminals ignore him.
The law is left baffled by him.
His public gives him what he desires most- fear, anger, outrage. Dirty, ugly parts of themselves that come from places they couldn’t begin to comprehend, but it’s a place he understands perfectly. It’s why he performs his social experiment on the innocent- the Suzy-Do-Gooders of the world.
Batman is filled with the drive to stop him; with every kill the drive increases tenfold. The dark, beautiful city he is forever fighting to save is cowering; even worse some are bowing. The horrid desperation he has slowly beaten back over the years is back in less time than it took for the first video to stop streaming. But that’s okay, because in desperation Batman thrives. It’s times like these Bruce’s alter ego is most in his element. It’s Bruce himself who suffers seeing his city so willingly kneel before another deranged murder. He loses pieces of himself watching psychotic criminal after criminal devour Gotham. So he throws himself into Batman; pursuing his nightly activities with a vengeance, looking for those lost pieces of himself he’s not so sure he can ever really get back.
Tonight, fully suited in his Batman armor he watches the monitors in his high tech basement filled with images of the man in the Black Mask skip over his usual rubbish. Without even one lead on his newest nemesis, Bruce feels one more piece of himself disappearing. The signal from the video is being bounced from tower to tower all over the world; there are no distinguishing markers to be found in any of the videos including the one currently airing; and no manufacturer Bruce found could place where his unique mask came from. Most haunting, no bodies have turned up. An autopsy can be so revealing, but more importantly a burial is deserved.
The camera turns to a green eyed, blonde woman, whom looks to have a whole lot of life left to live, tied to Black Mask’s operating table and he feels that piece of himself going, going, gone. He watches, determined not to let this woman die in front of nothing but morbid fans looking to be entertained; if nothing else she’ll have one person looking to take her killer-to-be down. Alfred tries to usher him out to patrol, but Bruce refuses. Ever faithful Alfred stays with him.
Black Mask is angrier than usual tonight. He’s growling and condemning and threatening. He’s not playing the misunderstood hero card this time. Someone has royally pissed the psychopath off.
“Do you ever shut up?” the feminine voice complains.
“Shut up Bitch!” Mask snaps taking an eyeliner pencil and shoving it into the young blonde’s arm.
She grimaces but doesn’t make a noise.
“What a waste of perfectly good product,” angrily, he tosses the pencil away.
“Really?” she rolls her eyes, “Guyliner is so 1990s. You’re better off without it, trust me.”
“Maybe we can find something more to your standards,” he sneers.
“The antidote would fit my standards just fine. I’d rather not be left with that little scar there,” she gestures to her arm with her head.
The remark gives Black Mask pause. In a fit of rage, his hands smack either side of the table where she lays, “What makes you think there’s an antidote?”
“You, Smart Guy,” she answers nonplussed looking straight into the camera. “Right before you killed her, you offered Zelda Olav the antidote and implied if it’s received in time there is no lasting damage.”
Bruce stills as he listens to her. She knows someone who can help her is watching, and it isn’t him. She’s feeding them information. Batman knows all of this, what she’s relaying wouldn’t help him. He has, after all, watched every feed. The killings are in his city.
Mask picks up a black jar of a creamy substance and flings the table with the rest of his products across the room. “Don’t worry yourself about that. By the time they find you at the bottom of the bay, they’ll be more concerned with whether or not there is enough left for a coffin much less an antidote.”
Her green eyes spark, “Is that how you get rid of the bodies?”
“That’s enough from you!” Black Mask all but howls bringing the black jar back to light and unscrewing the lid.
The woman’s interest subsides quickly as her fear shines through finally, but Bruce hasn’t had this much hope for a victim of Black Mask’s yet. Busily typing away on one of his screens, Bruce begins to run a search on the black jar kept in the shadows until this night. He knows that uniquely egg shaped jar.
Janus Cosmetics had nearly gone under almost three years prior. Thanks to a last minute buyout by Wayne Industries thousands of jobs were saved and Janus Cosmetics doors stayed open. Roman Sionis, who ran the company into the ground investing in a line of “ground breaking” cosmetics which altered a persons appearance without plastic surgery, had always hated Bruce Wayne; and he resented him further for being in a position to bail the company out when his line of products had horrible results- changing physical appearances of those who used it for the worse. The black egg shaped jar was the container for the line of appearance altering
cosmetics.
Refocusing on the main screen, Bruce watches as Black Mask paces around the dark room frantically. “Gloves, where did the gloves go?”
Still looking at the camera, his latest captive and proven spitfire is blinking rapidly. Over and over again, she blinks. She is muttering under her breath and only every few words are being caught by the mic. “So much for…birds…I swear to never…field…”
Something about her eye movement is strangely catching.
“It would seem the young Sionis boy has finally taken the final plunge off the deep end,” Alfred remarks looking at the research Bruce has pulled up.
“Alfred, is she having a seizure of some sort?”
For a long moment, Alfred stares at the image of the blinking slight of a girl strapped to the table. “I think it’s Morse Code, Sir.”
“Morse code?”
“Yes. If you could slow it down Master Wayne, I could better interpret it. So far I’m reading ‘West, Southwest, there is three ducks.’”
“Ducks?” Bruce asks incredulously.
“Well, if you would slow down about the last thirty seconds,” Alfred frowns.
Rewinding it, Bruce plays it twice over in slow motion.
“South by Southwest Dock 33.”
“Ducks,” Batman laughingly mutters under his breath entering the new Batmobile and taking off leaving Alfred to watch the screens for any more information that may be relayed.
“Aha! Here they are!” Black Mask crows finding his gloves.
Finally after much seemed contemplation the blonde yells, “Oh for goodness sakes, HELP!!!”
“She seems to be getting desperate. She’s resorted to yelling for help,” Alfred communicates through the earpieces. “Black Mask has found his gloves.”
“I’m four minutes away.”
“That’s three and half too far, I fear,” Alfred answers.
In response Bruce takes a sharp left through a glass plate window going through rather than around a building.
Black Mask’s hand is seconds from marring the young woman when a blur of red and blue speeds across the room. The camera is knocked from its stand, but before it falls to the ground the woman is gone from the table and Black Mask’s hand smears the goop across cold metal. The camera screen cracks then goes black when it lands, but the audio is still heard.
“How about you pick on someone your own size,” a righteous voice trumps.
“Really, do you have to be so cliché,” the blonde’s feminine voice questions.
“It would seem our young mystery woman had her own savior all along, but I’ve lost visual” Alfred tells Bruce over the comm.
“I thought she might,” Batman growls as his tank crashes through the walls he has so long been searching for. Not ten feet from the tank, Roman Siones lies tied up and unconscious.
“The feed has completely gone off line, Sir,” Alfred informs him.
A man in a red cape and blue tights pushes the young woman behind him facing the Batmobile head on. Bruce’s thumb skits over his various weapon buttons through the thick but dexterous material of his gloves, and he contemplates whether to activate them. Slowly, the young woman steps from behind the brightly costumed, dark haired man.
“We’re all on the same side here,” she attempts. “I’ve done my research on the Dark Knight known as Batman. You’ve been fighting crime here in Gotham for years. I’m Vicki Vale and this is-” she is interrupted as her friend clears his throat, “the not-so-subtle Superman.”
Emerging from his vehicle Batman’s gravelly voice answers, “I know who he is. What I don’t know is why Mr. Metropolis is in Gotham, or what someone so informed on the Black Mask was doing letting herself be kidnapped by him.”
Bruce notes Superman’s face darkened at the end of his statement. He thinks to keep that in mind when looking to throw him.
“I didn’t exactly let myself be kidnapped,” Vicki replies indignantly. “I’m a new reporter for the Gotham Gazette. I was following a lead on the Black Mask when he found me and brought me here.”
“Gotham reporters are corrupt,” Batman sneers.
“It’s a good thing I’m not from Gotham then, huh?” Vicki raises her brow.
“Gotham reporters also don’t nearly get themselves killed,” he continues with glib darkness.
“They also don’t bother to report the real story. They print what the criminals tell them to,” she counters her feathers beginning to ruffle.
Bruce gives her a look as if evaluating something before turning his gaze to Superman, “And can I hope whatever you were doing here was related to her,” he gestures toward her with his hand looking for a description that doesn’t come, “and is now over? And you will be permanently returning to Metropolis?”
“I only came because she called. I have some things to take care of in Metropolis and need to get back. She hadn’t exactly included me in her investigation until now,” he pauses to pointedly look the woman avoiding his gaze. “You can hope whatever you want, but if she calls for help again, I’ll be here.”
“And what is the likelihood Miss Vale would need this kind of assistance in the future?” Bruce’s voice growls without the distorter causing the distorter to sound doubly deep.
“I’d like to say not much, but experience would say otherwise,” She smirks.
“Perhaps you should look into a less dangerous profession.”
“Pot meet kettle. You never would have found him without me,” she huffs. “Besides this is the least dangerous of the jobs I’ve held.”
“Is that so?” Bruce asks annoyingly intrigued.
“I think it’s time I get you home.” Superman cuts in before she can continue with her banter. “Can you take care of Black Mask?” he directs to Batman.
“Yes, run Miss Vale home,” he speaks condescendingly. She’s interesting as hell, but the farther he keeps her from Gotham’s underbelly the safer she’ll be and the less he’ll have to worry about. “I’ll take care of the Mask.”
“You mean Roman S-” Vicki glares at Batman as she is hauled away at inhuman speed in a flash of red and blue.
*~*
Commissioner Gordon opens the back doors of the unmarked van he has been sitting in with two other officers for the last two hours. Frustrated and angry with himself for not being able to keep track of one blonde reporter, he kicks the rear passenger tire. The girl, Chloe Sullivan,- a civilian in the witness protection program- was most likely dead or worse thanks to his inability to find the Mask. This day would haunt him for the rest of his life.
His cell phone rang four times before he could bring himself to care enough to answer it. Batman's voice didn't waste time on pleasantries, simply informing him the Mask was being delivered to the station and the girl was alive. Gordon's night had taken a sudden turn for the better.
Prompt: AU - jane gives her intern (Darcy) away to dr. Banner when darcy refuses to move with her to Norway with her and her hunk of a boyfriend Thor. Darcy does not like snow thank you wery much, but she agrees to visit them for 2 weeks in February (she REALLY ought to have picked a month with no snow...) and goes for a double date with them and Steve, Thor's BFF from his stay in America, and after a great night she does not really mind the snow so much since Steve has a firm hand to hold onto and a warm body to snuggle up to. Then her two weeks are up....
A/N: So this is a day late and a dollar short, as in I'm posting a day late and I'm only posting half the fic. The next chapter will be up soon. I apologize profusely. It's unbeta'ed, but I hope it's still enjoyable.
Darcy Lewis isn’t the most qualified intern an astrophysicist could ask for, but beggars can’t be choosers and she was the only one to apply. Darcy knows being their only choice is how she wound up in the middle of nowhere New Mexico locked in a lab with two whack as a duck scientists, but they aren’t her first choice either. All the political science internships have already been nabbed, and like hell she is going to delay her graduation another semester just to wait around for one.
So she learns how to read the malfunctioning machines, and implements an actual organizational system for their data that consists of more than random notes written on napkins and scribbles on a whiteboard. She makes lunch runs, and makes sure the van has gas in the tank. She even provides them with awesome background music to accompany their research. All typical intern stuff.
It’s not until week two of her internship that she learns the scientists don’t need an intern so much as they need a babysitter. After spending her first week organizing the lab, she leaves on Friday afternoon satisfied everything is in order, and Drs. Foster and Selvig know where everything is. So when comes back from the weekend on Monday morning to find things in complete chaos, she may overreact a wee bit, but dear lord that smell.
“What the hell?!” Darcy screeches.
Unaware of her presence until the outburst, the scientists startle. From the looks of the bags under their eyes, she assumes they haven’t left since she last saw them Friday afternoon. Erik simply goes back to his work, but the tray of cups in Dary’s hands catch Jane’s attention.
“Is that coffee?” Jane asks with an edge of desperation. “We ran out last night.”
“Have you slept?” Darcy eyes Jane’s unwashed hair, “And please tell me you’re not what smells in here.”
“Coffee,” Jane holds out her hand.
Darcy shakes her head emphatically, “No. Only good scientists who remember to sleep and don’t trash their lab get coffee.”
“But,” Jane whines looking around the room, “It’s not that bad. I need coffee.”
Darcy sputters for a second. “Not that bad? Jane it looks like an explosion happened in here. I just had everything organized three days ago. How did you even manage this?”
If Darcy wasn’t the one having to clean it up, she might be impressed by how quickly they managed to completely dismantle her system. Where did they even put the filing cabinet?
“I know where everything is!” Jane argues. “Darcy, we had some crazy readings coming off the machines this weekend. This could be a major breakthrough. I’m sorry we didn’t have time to file everything, but we’ll clean it up this afternoon alright? Now, please, the coffee.”
“Alright,” Darcy holds out a cup, but pulls it away right when Jane reaches for it, “but first tell me where your laptop is.”
“It’s just,” Jane looks around once more, “It’s under, it’s um… oh I remember, right here!” Jane digs under some papers only to pull out an accordion folder Darcy had given her to store miscellaneous notes in.
Darcy looks sternly at the tiny scientist in front of her, “When was the last time you left this lab?”
Jane rolls her eyes, “I can’t leave. This is important for my–” a grumble from her stomach interrupts.
“Okay, Dr. Selvig just fell asleep on the weather doo hickey–”
“Visibility meter,” Jane corrects.
“And you’re dead on your feet,” Darcy continued over her. “How well can you science when you're tired, hungry and starting to smell?” Darcy sets the coffee down, preemptively stands between it and Jane, and crosses her arms in front of her.
“I can science just fine!” Jane snaps. “And I don’t smell.”
“Tell it to my nostrils sister,” Darcy snaps back.
When Jane only scowls, Darcy tries again. “How about this? Go home, eat something, shower, sleep for a few hours, and by the time you get back here, I’ll have this place reorganized and you can science to your heart’s content.”
Jane opens her mouth with what is most assuredly a protest to Darcy’s suggestion when her stomach growls again. “Alright,” Jane sighs in defeat, shoulders slumping.
It takes three hours to get all the papers refiled, and a week to get the smell of Friday’s forgotten lunch out of the lab. The filing cabinet ends up being in the bathroom. Darcy does not want to know, just dutifully moves it back into the lab.
From then on, she makes sure the scientists don’t cross the line from eccentric to full on mad. It’s a lot like owning plants. She makes sure they are fed and watered and that they get the occasional sunlight and enough sleep not to keel over and die. Okay, she might be failing Erik a little bit, but she’s got Jane functioning on a semi–human schedule. Darcy lives for small victories when it comes to this job.
It’s a slow night in the lab. The machines haven’t made a noise in six hours, and Jane is looking restless. Selvig is attending a conference back at Culver. Darcy’s getting ready to head out, but she has been around long enough to know nothing good comes from leaving a restless Jane alone in the lab. Jane is unsurprisingly resistant to the idea of going for a drink, but Darcy cajoles her into it.
Darcy maintains that what happens next is all Jane’s fault. Jane refuses to ride in Darcy’s car simply because the check engine light has been on all summer. Honestly, she’s such a drama queen. If the car was going to break down, it would have already. Jane, however, does not see the obvious rationale behind this line of reasoning, so they take the van Jane traded in her car for to drive across the New Mexico desert and chase storms. A van that as it turns out cannot stop on a dime; especially when drunks stumbling through the parking lot throw themselves in front of your vehicle.
“Holy shit Jane!” Darcy yelps as the brakes slam. “You just hit someone!”
“No kidding Darcy!” Jane shoots back hysterically, “I hadn’t noticed! Get the first aid kit.”
Both get out of the van quickly circling to the front to check on their victim only to find him righting himself.
“Does he need CPR?” Darcy asks getting a good look at the huge, blonde hunk of man they just clobbered with the van. “Because I totally know CPR.”
“Are you okay?” Jane asks reaching out to place her hand on his shoulder, but the guy staggers backward a step, and starts yelling in a foreign language.
A beep comes from a portable machine inside Jane’s purse, immediately distracting the scientist from their current situation. “We have to go. There machine is detecting an abnormality in the–”
“He needs to go to the hospital,” Darcy glares at Jane.
“He’s fine, look at him,” Jane gestures to the clearly hammered guy raving on in gibberish.
“Leaving right now would be what they call a hit and run Jane!”
“Fine you take him to the hospital, I’ll go check the irregularities off the machine,” Jane reasons.
Just then, the guy shouts get louder and he starts to lumber toward them with a battle cry of, “Oslo!”
“New Mexico!” Darcy shouts back pulling out her taser and shooting him square in the chest. He falls unconscious, spasming for several minutes.
“What? He was freaking me out!” Darcy explains in answer to Jane’s befuddled look.
At the hospital, Jane and Darcy have the joy of explaining to the kind police officers of Puente Antiguo they grazed the man they’ve accompanied to the ER with a van and tasered him respectively. They are held in police custody until the guy wakes up an hour later, smiles dopily at Jane, and says in a perfect English he does not wish to press charges. He’s awestruck by the tiny brunette and he wastes no time asking her and her friend to breakfast. And so begins the adorable romance of Jane and Thor, a minor league hockey player for a team a few towns over.
Sadly, their summer romance hits a snag when Jane’s research grant ends and she has to head back to Virginia to her tenure track lecturer position at Culver. At the same time, Thor gets traded to the Manglerud Star Ishockey, a GET–ligaen team. It’s a dream come true for his career. Unwilling to breakup, Jane and Thor decide to do the long distance thing.
Darcy has grown used to working for crazy scientists, she’s even come to enjoy it; so when Jane’s methods scare off her semester intern, Darcy has no problem filling the position.
“Jane,” Darcy peeks out from behind her computer, “You haven’t muttered anything sciencey under your breath in over an hour. Is everything okay?”
“Of course,” Jane answers primly, “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Maybe because you haven’t heard back about that position at the University of Oslo,” Darcy says knowingly.
Jane looks back at her with wide eyes, “How did you know I applied?”
“I know everything.” At Jane’s blank look, Darcy expands, “I clean out your email weekly, Dr. Forgetful.”
“Darcy, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It’s just I don’t even think they’re really considering me, and I didn’t want to get my hopes up by actually talking about it,” Jane hurries to explain.
“Relax,” Darcy instructs, “I know why you did it. I’ve been watching mope around all semester. You’re like a sad, lost puppy. You can’t do any research with your class load, and you don’t get to see the boyfriend. You’re miserable, I get why you would apply.”
“You’re pretty great, you know that?”
“Yeah,” Darcy smiles, “I am awesome, aren’t I? And you are too. Looks like Oslo agrees by the way. You might want to check your email.”
Jane doesn’t even wait for the semester to finish out before she quits her job, and packs up for Norway. To her massive disappointment, she is unable to convince Darcy to follow her.
“Darcy, where are my–” Jane starts her question only to be cut off by Darcy holding out a folder.
“Ugh, what am I going to do without you? I’m never going to find another intern who does things right.” Jane grouches, “Are you sure you won’t go with me?”
“I don’t do snow,” Darcy repeats for the thousandth time
“Darcy, you live in Virginia,” Jane rolls her eyes.
“And I hate every second from November onward,” Darcy loops a laptop bag over Jane’s shoulder.
“So you’re just going to go work for Dr. Banner then? Like it’s nothing? Like we’re interchangeable to you?” Jane slurs on.
“Okay,” Darcy emphasizes the end of the word heavily, realizing maybe the bonvoyage vodka she snuck in to the lab wasn’t such a great idea afterall. “You got me the job. It’s not like I left you. You’re moving, and you literally gave me away to Dr. Banner without even talking to me. I’m the one who should be offended.”
“Hmph,” Jane pouts.
“Look Jane, you need to go sleep the alcohol off, or else you’re going to have a miserable day traveling tomorrow,” Darcy reasons.
“Fine,” Jane acquiesces, “but you promise to come visit right?”
“I promise,” Darcy agrees.
Cut to two months later.
“What do you mean you booked me an airplane ticket?” Darcy shouts at the tinny sound of Jane’s voice over the phone.
“I talked with Dr. Banner. He told me he gave you the month of February off since he was going to be doing research in India. Besides Darcy, it’s on UiO’s dime. It’ll be like a paid vacation Darcy. They’re buying your ticket and paying to do a little interning for me the first two of weeks of February. I’ve scared off all the other ones they’ve provided me with.” Jane explains.
Darcy huffs, “Do ever think maybe you should consult with me before you get me a job? That’s twice now.”
“I know, I know,” Jane agrees hurriedly, “But I miss you!”
“I miss you too,” Darcy sighs.
“So you’ll come?” Jane asks hopefully.
Darcy lets herself collapse backwards onto her bed. “Yes, I’ll go visit you.”
“Yes!” Jane exclaims, her excitement bringing a smile to Darcy’s face.
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