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Darcy had curled up with Thor on the couch for comfort. Because Thor was comfy and muscular and warm and welcoming and touching him didn't mean anything to him other than that they were friends and that he liked her company. That she had a thing for cuddling with men didn't mean anything, nor did the fact that it felt better if they liked her. It wasn't sexual. Neither of them was cheating on Jane. She wasn't looking to hook up and neither was he.
It was fine.
Except Steve was standing there, hands on hips, glaring at them. Well, more specifically, at her.
In full self-righteous Captain America mode, every bit the epitome of right and good.
Her ex.
That was a shitshow she didn't want to revisit anytime soon.
But it looked like she was going to, like it or not.
The captain cleared his throat pointedly. "Miss Lewis…"
"Dude, we fucked. Call me Darcy."
If anything, his expression grew even sterner. "Darcy. You may find it acceptable to behave… inappropriately…"
His tone made it clear that he meant "like a whore", even though the words would never fall from his oh so perfect lips.
"But you owe more respect to your boss than to…" he waved his hand at where Darcy sat, draped around Thor, "…disrespect her like this."
Thor looked up this, brow creasing. "Is there a problem?"
"No," Steve said, in that way that said, 'Clearly, *yes*', "I understand that you're unfamiliar with our customs, but… well… Darcy shouldn't be taking advantage of your ignorance to…"
Darcy's face flamed. To anyone else, the conversation might have seemed innocent. But Steve and Darcy had *history*. And she could read between the lines. Just because he'd taken her cuddling with him as meaning she wanted something more and she'd been stupid enough to take him up on it didn't mean that she was out to bang every Avenger. They weren't Pokemon. "Behave like a slut? Is that what you meant, Captain Rogers?"
His ears reddened, but he didn't look away. "Not in so many words…"
"So, yes, then." Darcy extricated herself from Thor and stood up. Two spots of color burned on her cheeks. "Look here, Captain Morality, you have no idea what's going on here, not that it matters, because you have no say in what I do or who I do it with--"
"I do when it affects the team. The Avengers don't need a Victory Girl making flitting from guy to guy. It destabilizes teamwork." He waved his hand at Thor. "I've seen how you are with Stark and Banner and now this. It's unacceptable."
Darcy was so angry she couldn't focus. "Well, so's your face!"
On that note, she stormed out, leaving Thor behind on the couch and Steve standing over him, frowning at the direction she'd gone in.
And above them, an unseen observer, watching it all play out.
****
Contrary to popular belief, Clint doesn't live in the vents. He just liked to know what was going on and he liked to do it without anyone knowing he was there. After Loki, he especially liked it when he could pretend that he wasn't there as well. It made him feel safer to be out of the action.
That this allowed him to witness moments that others might have wanted to keep private was irrelevant. He wasn't going to tell anyone. Unless it was Tony and he thought it would piss him off.
This time, however, was different. He was concerned. Yeah, that was it. Concerned about Darcy. Not because she was easy on the eyes. Not because she had a smart mouth and he liked that. Not because she had a kind word and a smile whenever someone who would remain unnamed really needed one. But because he was concerned. Never mind that Jarvis monitored everything that happened in the tower.
Crawling after her, Clint heard her before he saw her. Darcy hadn't gone far. She'd locked herself in a room on the same floor of the tower.
He wasn't able to see her though, because she had another observer. The Winter Soldier already occupied the other side of the vent, looming there in the dimness, already watching the room below.
Clint nodded to Barnes. He understood the man better than either of them wanted. There was an unspoken agreement between them. He edged forward, looking down at the woman slumped against the wall, arms around her knees, angry sobs shaking her body.
"Aw, Darcy, no," Clint whispered.
The other man cocked his head, silently asking Clint for information. Clint was impressed. An actual expression crossed the Winter Soldier's face. It could have been an eye roll, but his face returned to its customary murder stare so quickly that Clint couldn't say for sure. In any case, the implication was clear: Barnes wanted an explanation and wanted it now.
The archer gave him a long look, then nodded before spilling the whole story. Both the words spoken, but also the parts of the conversation implied but unvoiced. In clipped words, he added, "The only thing I didn't get is what a Victory Girl is supposed to be."
Barnes's glare got even more murdery and his metal hand flexed into a fist. "Steve is a dick."
Clint nodded. "Yeah." He didn't say anything else. They understood each other and Clint didn't want to leave Darcy alone for too long.
Quietly, he removed the panel blocking him off from the floor, then dropped down next to Darcy. Habit made it silent. Clint looked up to see if Barnes was going to replace the panel, but instead saw him also coming down from the ceiling.
Clint raised his eyebrows, but the Winter Soldier jerked his head at the crying woman, and Clint nodded. Yeah. Priorities.
"Hey," he said, kneeling next to Darcy. "It's me. You doing okay? You don't look so good."
****
Darcy hadn't heard a thing. Clint's words startled her. When she looked to her right, she saw him on one knee, hand outstretched to her as though he wanted to touch her, but wasn't quite sure whether she'd want him to.
Behind him loomed the tower's other sniper. She had no idea why he'd come, why either or both of them had come after her. Neither had been there when Steve had chewed her out. Of course, that wouldn't stop spysassins from spying…
As much as she wanted to take Clint's hand and pull him to her and lose herself in his embrace, she wiped her face instead. "Agent Biceps. And Bucky. Great. Just what I need right now. More Avengers to ruin with my slutty ways."
Clint stiffened, rocking back on his heels, hands held up and away from her. "It's not like that. I don't know what Steve's problem is, but he had no business talking to you like that."
"James," the other man added. "Call me James. Bucky is someone Steve remembers, not me. And Barton's right. The punk doesn't know how to treat a lady."
Darcy snorted, a sound that lost some of its impact when she had to sniffle immediately afterward. "Not a lady. Obviously. And, no, because no way people are going to believe some ditzy, glorified babysitter over Captain America."
Six feet of muscled menace settled down in front of her, cross-legged. "I believe you, doll."
Darcy bit her lip as she turned her head, looking up at him through her hair. "You think so? But like you said, you're his Bucky. His BFF, soulmate, all that."
"Not his. And it doesn't make him any less of a fat-head from time to time."
Darcy stared at him for a long moment, then giggled. Clint relaxed his cautious stance a little, as the giggle made the woman in front of him seemed less sad. But it didn't last for long, as she broke off into more sobbing.
A gentle hand settled on her shoulder. This time Darcy didn't resist. Reaching up, she placed her hand on Clint's forearm. Unable to resist the urge any longer, she squeezed it, tugging him in her direction.
"I know I should be good," Darcy said. She wiped her free hand across her eyes and looked up at Clint, taking in his concerned expression. Oh, how she wanted the security of his arms around her. "I know I should suck it up and tell you I'm going to be okay, because I am. Eventually. But I'd really like it if you'd hold me right now. I know we don't do this and maybe's Steve's right…"
"Steve's a fucking asshole," Clint said bluntly and let her grip on his arm pull him down. He sat down, stretching his legs around her so that he could enfold her in his embrace.
He wore a sleeveless purple shirt today and his arms were so, so warm. Darcy wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face into the hollow at the base of his neck. "Sorry. Sorry I need this. Sorry I want this."
The two men exchanged a look she couldn't see over top of her head.
"Darcy," Clint began tentatively. "I heard what Steve said to you. I don't agree with any of it, I want you to know that. And I don't think Barnes does either."
"No, I don't," came a gravelly denial.
"But it seems like there's more going on that what I overheard."
"You could say that," Darcy said, huffing out a bitter laugh.
"Wanna tell us about it? You don't have to. I mean, I hated having to talk to the shrinks after the Loki thing. But maybe you want to?"
Just the timber of his voice alone reassured her. Made her feel safe, wanted. Oh, Darcy. You're such a sucker. "Yeah. I guess. You might as well know. Then at least you'll be warned. I won't -- you'll know why you need to avoid me after this."
"Not going to avoid you, doll," James said.
Darcy shivered. His voice stroked over her spine and she clung more closely to Clint, seeking the feeling of his solidity in her arms, his reality. "You already do. Both of you."
They exchanged glances again. She could feel Clint's chin moving against her hair when he turned his head to look at James. She couldn't tell what they were communicating between them.
"Nah, we weren't," Clint told her. He ran his hand gently over her back. "Just… used to keeping things at a distance. More since everything that's gone down. Nothing to do with you."
"I watch you," James said, staring at the floor. Even when Darcy gasped, he didn't look up. "I like being around you. When you and Stevie started stepping out, I followed you around, making sure you were good for him. Kept doing it when it made me feel better hearing you or seeing you."
For him, that was a long speech Darcy knew. "Slightly creepy," she told him, "but kudos for being a good bro."
She let her arms drop, putting a little space between herself and Clint, but not pulling away. "Thank you. For coming after me and for not being judgmental pricks."
"Tell us how you really feel," Clint said in a joking tone.
"Oh, you don't want me to do that," Darcy said dismissively. "I mean, I'd love to, but you're guys. You don't want to hear all that." She looked at James. "Especially since I'd be bad mouthing your bestie."
He huffed. She thought it was probably his version of a laugh. The Winter Soldier didn't make sounds accidentally. "Nothing I haven't said to his face."
Darcy arched her eyebrows. "You've told him he treats you like a sex doll? 'Cause, dude, dish."
The arms around her tightened as the man in front of her growled. Resting murder face was scary enough. She didn't need a soundtrack to accompany it.
"That was supposed to sound funny," Darcy said weakly.
"It wasn't," Clint informed her. "I can have Natasha kill him for you."
"You wouldn't do it yourself?" she asked, trying hard to recapture the mood. She'd almost gotten away with being comforted -- cared about, touched, even hugged! -- without embarrassing herself by being Slutty McSlutterson and trying to get them to stay.
"I've got something more important to do right now."
"Oh," Darcy said, trying not to sound as bleak as that made her feel. She eased away from Clint. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to--"
"Hey!" Clint said, recapturing her gently, one hand coming up to her head to press it lightly against his chest. "I meant you. Taking care of you. That's more important."
She didn't want to. She really didn't want to. But the tears didn't care what she thought, only how she felt. And she felt fucking miserable. "All I wanted was cuddling with optional making out. I didn't want to be his perfect poster child princess or the awed recipient of his manly penis." She let out a little scream, frustrated with her inability to control herself, with Steve, with the whole situation. "It wasn't my fault that I wasn't his perfect cut-out doll princess. I wasn't, it wasn't, it wasn't!"
"Of course it wasn't, sweetheart," Clint whispered, rocking her.
A heavy hand settled on her ankle, metal fingers rubbing soft circles over her socked foot.
"And now I'm using you and oh God, he's right. Here I am with you and I do flirt with Tony and Bruce and I *liked* hanging all over Thor and I don't wanna stop!" she wailed.
Overwrought as she was, that probably wasn't a chuckle she'd just heard from James. But his words came through clearly. "Ain't nothing wrong with that, doll."
Darcy snorted. "Apparently there is." She let go of Clint so she could run a hand over her suddenly aching forehead. Looked like crying caused headaches. Go figure. "I just don't understand why he's acting like this. I cuddled with him because I like cuddling. I wasn't going to ask him for anything more. I don't do that. It wasn't a come on. I knew he was out of my league. But then he asks me out and sure, I'm willing to take the chance. Relationships are all about taking chances. I thought maybe he'd seen something in me he liked."
Clint cleared his throat meaningfully. "Ah…"
"Yeah, besides the awesome tits," Darcy shot back, rolling her eyes.
"No, what I meant was, as much as he wants to pretend he's Steve Rogers, ordinary guy, he really isn't."
Darcy let her head loll back so she could look at Clint. "Not to stop you, but where you going with this, kemo sabe?"
"He's Captain America. He takes the costume off physically, but not mentally. He's always in character."
"Still not seeing where you're going with this."
"He does it to me," James said quietly. "He looks at me and he sees Bucky. He doesn't see…" He shrugged.
It wasn't just that. It was about the sex and yeah, Steve Rogers was very much a guy in that regard. Still, she could kinda see what they meant. When she and Steve dated, he treated her like some kind of virginal maiden. Even in bed really. Missionary position all the way, no foreplay, just a quick pawing of the tits and then in and out and afterward, he might condescend to touch her clit. But he made it clear that he thought that should have been unnecessary.
Darcy sighed. They didn't need to hear all of that. She gave the former Winter Soldier a sad smile and patted his hand where it rested on her ankle. "Yeah. Exactly. I think that's why he pisses Tony off so much. He expects Tony to be Howard and Tony hates the man. I don't know what he saw instead of me. But it wasn't Darcy Lewis." She laughed bitterly. "Which explains today, I guess. He still doesn't see me, but the person he sees is the kind of bitch who would hang all over the Avengers trying to get laid by as many of them as possible."
"You're not," Clint reassured her instantly.
"And how do you know that, huh? Maybe all I see are muscles and glamorous superheroing and not dedication, determination and pain. Maybe I'm just that shallow--" She shook her head. "Sorry, unfair. It's just… assumptions, dude. They mess you up."
He squeezed her gently. "That they do."
She looked between him and James. "You know that I'm not looking for anything from either of you, right?" Her eyes were anxious. "I mean, thank you both for being awesome and I totally appreciate how amazing both of you are -- even more amazeballs than I already thought you were -- but I'm not delusional. I like you and I like this, but I'm not angling for me. I know you both are…" She waved her hand. "Well, in one case, not open to any options and in the other, well supplied with all the possible options, of which I am not even going to pretend I can compete with."
"There are so many things wrong with that statement," Clint commented, brushing his nose against her hair. "I can't even begin to list them all."
James nodded in agreement. "I see you, doll. And Barton does too."
"It's what we do," Clint agreed. "We see."
Something unspoken hung in the air, the moment pregnant with something anticipatory. Something bigger.
For the first time since they'd sat down, Darcy was afraid. She hadn't been afraid when they'd come in; it had been obvious that they were here because she was crying. It'd been even more obvious that there was nothing untoward going on, because there was no history between the three of them. The brainwashed ex-assassin flinched away even from contact with Steve, much less her. And while she'd exchanged words with Clint and he'd snitched a few of her cookies when she baked, she couldn't call either of them friends or particularly close. This little interlude was just two genuinely good guys caring about someone in distress.
That she'd been enjoying the attention and soaking up the warmth of Clint's touch and the subtle affection that both men were showing her -- that was a bonus, and something for her to relive guiltily later when she was alone again.
But this? Them telling her they saw her? Giving her the slightest bit of hope that maybe she mattered to them… She could really get her heart hurt here if she let their words convince her that there was something more than just two superheroes proving that they could be little h heroes as well.
It terrified Darcy. She needed to put space between them before she started believing that they-- yeah. She needed to go soonest.
She pulled away from the both of them, leaning away from Clint and tugging her foot out of James' grasp. "Well, okay, then," she said, trying to be casual about it, and knowing that she was failing. "Good talk. This has been great and thank you both for being great bros. I owe you both so many cookies. Let me know what kind you want and I'll just-- I'm just going to go now…"
Clint didn't try to hold onto her -- because of course he wouldn't, he wasn't the kind of guy who would hold onto a woman against her will -- and Darcy managed to get to her feet without either of them interrupting her. Score! Now she just had to get out of the room and it would be okay. She could get a latte and some pastries and hug the memory of being held close to her. If she could just get out of here before she spoiled it by forcing them into rejecting her when they inevitably caught on that she was developing feelings.
She desperately didn't want to be rejected. If she left now, then there might be later conversations and, if she were very very lucky, some cuddles at a future unspecified point in time. Friendship would still be a possibility and they wouldn't have been forced into turning her down, she wouldn't have had it confirmed to her face what she already knew, that she was little more than a starstruck groupie. That to them, like with Steve, she was just another woman hanging around, like any other, not an individual so much as a category or a convenience.
"I've got to go," she told them again, blurting out the words, knowing she sounded awkward and not caring because she had to get out of there right this moment.
Darcy turned to go to the door, but obviously she had missed something in her rush to leave, because now the Winter Soldier was leaning against the closed door, arms folded over his chest, blocking it with a full-on glower.
"I don't think so," he told her.
She squared her chin. "You going to make me scream for help?"
"Nah," he said, then uncrossed his arms and did something that stunned her.
The man who carefully kept distance between himself and everyone else, even his supposed best friend, reached out for her and gathered her to his chest, hugging her. Closely. Intimately.
"I don't know what's going through your head right now," James told her. "But get it out of there. Whatever you're thinking, you're wrong."
"You don't know that," Darcy said weakly, nose buried against the man who smelled of spice and leather and clean laundry. He smelled so good. She almost wanted to sag into his arms and beg him to just let her hold on for a few minutes. A half hour. That would be enough. She could spend the rest of her life imagining that someone this capable, wounded, incredible, skilled, strong, utterly fantasy worthy and completely off limits really wanted her.
Because she'd ruined that with Steve. Had taken him up on his offer, hoping against hope that maybe this time someone saw her, that she, Darcy, was wanted and not just a girl-shaped toy.
"I've got to go," she repeated. "You have to let me go. I'll fuck this up. I fuck everything up. I fucked up Captain America and I'll fuck up the team and…"
Another pair of arms encircling her cut her off, as Clint came up from behind, a hard press of oh-so-necessary warmth against her back.
Even though she knew she shouldn't, she felt safe and wanted and she couldn't stand it anymore.
"You don't want me. You can't want me. You can have anyone. You don't even know who I am. Please. Please don't do this."
"Aw, Darcy, no," Clint said, dropping his head to her shoulder. His voice rumbled directly into her ear, making her shiver. So good. So perfect. So not something she could have. "I don't know what you think we're going to do to you, but stop. You're fine. Well, not fine, obviously, because you've got shit for self-esteem, but you've really got the wrong idea about us."
"Not gonna hurt you." James dipped his head, long brown locks falling down to caress the sides of her face. "Don't know why you think we're something special. We're both killers, we both got blood on our hands. Not good people."
"Coulson called me a walking disaster area," Clint confided. "Nat wasn't as polite."
"First time I touched someone on purpose since, y'know," James added. "Can't say what might set me off, might make me hurt someone without even thinking about it. Probably shouldn't be touching you now. Wouldn't have 'cept it would've hurt you more if I didn't."
"I'm a circus brat who barely scraped through a GED after SHIELD gave me the ultimatum that I either started working for them or they took care of me permanently."
"Kid with no prospects from Brooklyn who didn't even make officer living off of someone else's dime, no skills other than killing people."
Darcy sniffled, but didn't reply.
"So we're no prizes either," Clint told her. "Steve fucked with your head, sweetheart. I get that, *we* get that. And after he heals up from Thor kicking his ass, I'm going to do it and then Barnes gets what's left over."
A huff proclaimed that James disagreed with the archer. "You get what's left over. I got dibs."
"Anyway. Whatever you want, Darce, it's yours. You truly are special. I know who leaves the home-cooked meals with my name on it in the fridge."
"You always smile at me," James offered. "You give me space, but you make room for me. You ask me what I want every time I'm in the room when you're picking out a movie or making food even when I don't say anything back."
"Like I said, we see you. And I like what I see."
"Me too."
"So give us a chance. It's not like I've got much to offer." Clint's arms flexed around Darcy as he shrugged. "I'm no good at relationships and I'm never around and most of the time I'm hiding away from people."
She heard what they were saying. What they were admitting. Clint understood. Both of them did. Now she just needed to show them that she understood too.
Resting her head on Clint's shoulder, Darcy looked backward and up to meet his eyes. "But you still watch them because you want to be a part of things," Darcy completed.
His mouth twisted and he closed his eyes.
She'd hurt him with that, she could tell. He was uncomfortable with the admission. By way of apology, she said, "Maybe I see too much too."
"I like that about you," James told her, even as Clint rubbed his cheek against hers, acknowledging her apology and telling her wordlessly that he forgave her.
Darcy let herself relax, tension draining out of her all at once, leaving her feeling boneless. They understood. They accepted her. She slumped against James, letting the two men hold her up. "Okay. I don't know what I'm agreeing to. I don't know where this is going or if it's going anywhere. But I believe you. And I'm pathetic enough to say yes."
"Not pathetic," James replied.
"Not at all," Clint said, and kissed her temple. "Not even in the slightest."