Archive of Our Own ^beta

The alarm clock blared into Jane's dreams like a semi down the highway.

beep beep beep beep beep.

Jane rolled over and pulled the covers up over her head.

"Good morning, my dear," Thor whispered, his beard tickling her ear.

"Why did we decide to open a bakery?" Jane moaned into her pillow. "Why couldn't we have started a business that doesn't need us to be there so damn early?" Thor chuckled and, pulling the covers away from Jane, enveloped her in his arms and pressed a kiss to the back of her neck.

"And where would be the fun in that?" Thor murmured before he kissed her shoulder. Jane sighed and rolled over.

"You are too damn peppy this early in the morning," she grumbled, pecking him once on the lips before she sat up and stretched.

"And you are far too beautiful and gracious this morning," Thor said sweetly. Jane threw a pillow at his head. He caught it, laughing. She collapsed back on the bed and considered pulling the blankets up past her head again.

"Coffee," Jane commanded as she heard Thor leave the room. "Wait, Thor," she yelled through the open door. "Loki slept on the couch last night. Are you wearing pants?"

She could hear Loki's sigh from the other room, followed by a punctuated, "No. No, he is unfortunately not."

Thor's laughter carried into the bedroom, where Jane finally rolled out of bed and padded her way into the bathroom to take a scalding hot shower.

By the time she made it into the kitchen, Thor was pouring her a cup of coffee and Loki was scowling at his Macbook as he munched on cereal at the kitchen table.

"You could've slept in," Jane said to Loki.

"With this racket?" he said, motioning towards Thor. He didn't even look up from his laptop.

"Good point," Jane yawned sympathetically. Thor set out two plates and scooped helpings of scrambled eggs onto them. Jane reached for the ketchup and ignored Loki's scowl of disgust as she poured it over her eggs. (She was starving, okay?)

"Today, the applicants will arrive for their interviews," Thor announced as he squished himself into the third chair around the tiny table and set down his plate of eggs and toast. Loki didn't bother to move his laptop to make room. Thor didn't say anything.

"I can barely contain my excitement," Loki said tonelessly.

"Darcy will be happy," Jane said as she shoved scrambled eggs into her mouth. "Have you heard from Sif lately?" she asked Thor through a mouthful.

"She has defeated her flu bug and plans to return to work tomorrow," Thor said. "However, today, we will still need –"

"Fine," Loki said, snapping his Macbook shut. He pushed his chair back and the legs made a painfully sharp squeaking noise against the floor. Jane winced.

"Every penny earned is a penny closer to a new dwelling," Thor told Loki's retreating back. He exchanged a glance with Jane as Loki grabbed his laptop bag, scarf, and jacket and left the apartment. Jane glanced over at Thor as he stared at the closed door, worry apparent on his face. She set down her fork onto her empty plate.

"He'll be fine," Jane said, patting Thor's hand in an attempt to comfort him, although she wasn't quite convinced. Loki was…difficult.

"I am not always sure of that," Thor said in an undertone, but he turned to Jane and smiled softly. "But the sentiment is appreciated."

Jane leaned over the table and kissed Thor on the forehead. She gathered up her plate and set it on top of the precarious pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

"So, interviews start today…" she trailed off, leaning against the counter with crossed arms. Jane raised an eyebrow. Thor narrowed his eyes at her.

"After the last time, you promised you would interview prospective new employees," he said suspiciously.

"I hired Darcy," Jane pointed out, crossing her arms. "Can you imagine how that interview went?"

"If I recall correctly, you did not interview Darcy," Thor said, the side of his mouth quirking up and betraying his smile. "She saw you attempting to make a cappuccino, said, 'Oh, honey, no,' and elbowed her way past Loki to the espresso machine."

Jane absolutely did not smile back at Thor.

"I hired her," Jane said resolutely. She took a punctuated sip of her coffee.

"And I made a solemn vow to never again hold an interview," Thor countered.

They glared at each other from across the kitchen.

*

"And your name is?"

"I go by Natasha," the redhead said, folding her hands and setting them on the table. "Natasha Romanoff."

"Miss Romanoff," Thor began, looking up from her application.

She was tiny, but sharply dressed in heels and fancy clothes that had prompted Darcy to whisper some foreign-sounding designer name at Thor as he waited behind the counter. Her resume was as impressive as her clothing – almost too impressive for the job she was applying for.

"Just Natasha," she corrected him with a smile.

Her teeth gleamed, white and sharp. Thor suppressed the urge to flinch.

It was going to be a long day.

*

"Darcy, it's time for your lunch break," Jane said, sticking her head out of the kitchen doors. She had a smudge of pink icing on her forehead and a giant spoon in hand.

"Gimme, like, ten more minutes," Darcy whined.

"You said that ten minutes ago," Jane sighed. "Darcy, I legally have to give you a lunch break after you've worked this many hours."

"Ugh," Darcy groaned, leaning forward on the counter and burying her face in her hands. "I'm not gonna sue you, Jane, seriously. You have too much blackmail material on me for that."

Jane turned to glance over at Loki, who was standing at the register with his usual bored expression and green apron.

"Why is she refusing her lunch break?" she asked Loki. He turned his head a few degrees to the left. Loki sighed when he realized they weren't going to leave him alone until the matter was resolved.

"I believe Doctors Banner and Stark have their lunch break around this time each afternoon," Loki said. Darcy huffed, betrayed. "She still harbors a hopeless crush on Banner."

"It's not hopeless," Darcy protested. When Loki's judgmental gaze fell on her, she wrinkled her nose. "Alright," Darcy sighed. "It's hopeless. He's married or civil-unioned to Tony. I get it. But there's still a chance that –"

"Trust me, honey, threesomes aren't as fun as they sound," Jane frowned. Darcy turned to her, gaping.

"Jane," she choked.

"And to think, I could have gone my entire life without knowing that," Loki muttered to himself.

"Jane," Darcy repeated. "Oh my god. When did you–?"

"College," Jane said, rolling her eyes. "Although, you should hear Thor's stories about what he and Loki used to get up to."

Frowning, Darcy turned to the counter, just as a blonde guy wearing skinny jeans and a plaid shirt walked up to the counter.

"Afternoon, Darcy," Steve Rogers said politely, nodding to Jane and Loki as well. He'd become something of a regular recently.

"Hey, Steve, ever been in a threesome before?" Darcy asked casually.

Steve opened his mouth to retort, but he finally sighed in resignation. "Who have you been talking to?" he answered finally, brow furrowing. Darcy groaned.

"Oh my god," she said. "Oh my god. But – you give off grandpa vibes," she protested.

"Darcy," Jane interjected. "Maybe you should take your lunch break and have your crisis over threesomes some other time."

"Who's having a threesome?" Tony Stark said, appearing behind Steve. "And, my second question is: Would you consider making it a foursome?"

Darcy's face went bright red. Steve had turned and was glaring at Tony, his expression not dissimilar from the scowl on Loki's face.

"Rogers!" Tony said excitedly, patting Steve on his wide, muscular shoulder. "Well, if it isn't Captain America himself. Long time no see. Hey, Bruce, look who's orchestrating a threesome with Loki and Darcy. Back to your old tricks, Cap?" Tony grinned like a predator. Steve stepped away, pushing Tony's hand off his shoulder.

Darcy's heart sunk at Bruce’s name. Sure enough, Bruce Banner was standing behind them. With his slight frown and tweed jacket, he looked his usual combination of adorably befuddled, amused, and weirdly sexy. She felt her heart begin to pound nervously in her chest. (When Darcy looked around for her backup, she saw that Jane had retreated into the kitchen at the first sign of embarrassment. Traitor.)

"Tony," Bruce muttered, his voice low in warning.

"I don't know, Stark," Steve said, voice dangerously close to a growl. "Last time I checked, you were the one who cared more about – what did you call it? – being a playboy than you did doing your damn job."

Tony threw his head back and laughed bitterly.

"Oh, I did my job, Captain," he said, poking his finger into Steve's chest. Darcy took a step back, hoping that she won't have to call the police on these two. Sheliked Steve and Tony. "Maybe if I could say the same for you," Tony spat, "the two of us wouldn't be washed up in some back-road wannabe-boardwalk town."

"Alright, break it up, children," Bruce said, physically pushing Steve and Tony apart. "Or I'll have to get angry at you, and you wouldn't like that."

Tony and Steve lapsed into silence, but the air felt charged with electricity. Darcy was reminded of when Thor and Loki fought in the back room; Thor's voice loud and booming, Loki's quiet whisper impossible to hear.

There was something different about these two, though, that made their argument feel like more than a charged disagreement – there was pain underneath it all, not hate, but the kind of anger that came through loss. Darcy bit her bottom lip.

Still glaring at Tony, Steve stepped up to Loki's register and said, "I'll have a plain coffee. To go."

Darcy kept an eye on the trio as she poured Steve's coffee in a plain to-go cup. After she popped on the top, she hesitated for a moment, long enough to surreptitiously write 'Be kind to yourself, dude' on the side of the cup in Sharpie. She handed it to Steve over the glass display of baked goods.

Steve took the coffee, threw a ten dollar bill on the counter, and turned on his heel to leave. Darcy watched him go with a from (watched him, not his ass; seriously, it was not an appropriate moment for that).

"Tony," Bruce said in a low, stern voice edged with anger. "Apologize for disturbing Darcy and Loki."

"But Loki's a –" Tony started, but Bruce cleared his throat. Tony pursed his lips before he turned to Darcy and Loki. "Sorry for the disturbance," he said, sounding more like a child who was sorrier he was caught than for what he'd done. "I tip big."

Bruce sighed. "The usual, Loki," he said softly, pinching the bridge of his nose with two fingers. For once, Loki just rang up his order without protest that he didn’t know what ‘the usual’ was. "Sorry, Darcy,” Bruce said apologetically.

"It's alright," she squeaked. "I kinda wish there'd been a fistfight, honestly, it gets kinda boring around here sometimes."

"Don't encourage them," Bruce sighed.

From behind Bruce's back, Tony winked at Darcy.

*

"Peter Parker," the kid said.

"We've met," Thor replied dryly, shaking the kid's hand across the office desk. "I used to chase you and your friends off the tables in front of the Bakery quite often."

"Yeah, the good old high school days," Peter chuckled lamely. He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck."But, um, I'm in college now?" he said, although he didn't sound too sure of it. Thor looked down at his resume.

"I see you are double majoring at U.H.C.," Thor said thoughtfully. "Physics and Electronic Engineering."

"With a minor in photography," Peter mumbled. "But," he smiled exuberantly, "waiting tables for minimum wage is my real passion."

*

The bells on the door to Asgard Bakery tinkled as Steve stepped inside. He closed his umbrella and set it in the umbrella holder to dry before he looked around the bakery.

It was a rainy day in town. He'd carefully secured his sketchbook in his satchel (it was not a man-purse, no matter what Sam and Sharon said) to keep it dry. The bakery seemed emptier than it normally way – it might have been the rain, or the fact that Steve was there two hours earlier than usual.

He liked Asgard Bakery. The light was nice in the afternoon. It was soft and warm as it filled the bakery, mixing with the sounds of cheerful conversation and the humming of the espresso machine to create the perfect atmosphere.

Today, he'd come in early on purpose, to apologize to Darcy Lewis – and to avoid Tony Stark.

However, when Steve stepped up to the counter to order a coffee and a pastry from Loki, it wasn't Darcy's familiar brunette ponytail that he saw at the espresso machine.

"Where's Darcy?" Steve blurted, instead of his order. Loki glowered at Steve for a long moment before he answered.

"I don't believe that's any of your business," Loki answered curtly.

"Are you a friend of Darcy's?" the barista asked, casting a glance at Loki. "Darcy's shift does not begin for an hour yet."

"Um, kind of," Steve said, glancing at her nametag: her name was 'Sif.' She squinted at him, sizing him up. "I'm Steve. I wanted to speak to Darcy about the other day."

"She should arrive within the hour," Sif supplied with a nod as she decided he wasn’t a threat. "If you wish to wait for her, you may speak to her when she arrives."

"Alright," Steve nodded. He ordered a coffee and took a table in the back corner with a good view of the door. He pulled out his sketchbook.

Steve bought a few refills of his coffee as he waited. He sketched caricatures as drawing warm ups, his pencil tracing out Loki’s familiar long black hair and piercing glare.

Steve flipped the page of his sketchbook. He stopped on a half-finished sketch. It was based on an old photo of him, Stark, Carter, and the Commandos in military dress.  The official photo showed them all standing at attention, Tony and Peggy at the side – but there was another photo, a Polaroid that someone snapped of their group, where they were smiling and laughing.

Steve's eyes trailed over Peggy, her lips drawn in dark pencil to portray her usual red lipstick. Tony had one arm slung around her and the other around Steve, his face so much younger. Steve was looking to his left, away from Tony. He'd only half sketched in the figure next to him, but he didn't need the picture to remember the way Bucky's chin tilted upwards and his eyes sparkled as he laughed at whatever joke Steve had told.

"Huh," a voice said from above Steve. "I remember that picture."

"Tony," Steve jumped. He slammed his sketchbook shut. "What're you doing?"

"Being nosy," Tony said. He had a latte in one hand (probably a Café Latte with an extra shot of espresso and a million other fancy things, if Steve remembered correctly) and a to-go bag in the other. Steve's heart pounded angrily in his chest. He'd been trying to avoid Stark.

"That's nothing new," Steve muttered. He opened the sketchbook again, no longer caring if Tony saw it. "I used to have the photo," Steve said. "It was an old Polaroid. Don't know what happened to it."

"I probably have it on a hard drive somewhere," Tony said nonchalantly, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Don't worry about it," Steve said quickly.

"Wasn't gonna," Tony replied. He sighed suddenly and glanced over at the counter. Steve followed Tony's gaze to Loki, who was staring intently at the two of them. Steve felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

"Are you waiting for that girl to show up?" Tony asked suddenly.

"Her name's Darcy," Steve said.

"Yeah, whatever," Tony said, waving his coffee around in lieu of a free hand. "You waiting to apologize to her for the other day?"

"So what if I am?" Steve said.

"Predictable," Tony rolled his eyes. "Hey, tell you what, I'll give you a tip – ask her out now. Don't wait so long you lose your chance."

With that, Tony turned on his heel and went for the door.

"Shit," Steve breathed.

Clumsily, he stuffed his sketchbook back into his satchel, throwing his pencils in haphazardly and not caring if they broke again. He stood up, his chair legs screeching against the wood floor.

"Steven," Sif called from behind the counter, before Steve could follow Tony out the door. He cast one glance out into the rain before he turned.

"Yeah?" he said.

"Darcy has arrived," Sif said as Darcy came out through the kitchen doors. She was tying her green apron around her waist.

"That sounds so regal in your accent," Darcy said cheerfully to Sif. "The Lady Darcy, first of her name, Mother of Coffee, Khaleesi of the Bakery, is now seeing peasants. You may approach, fair Steven of – Where you from, anyways?" Darcy said, turning to Steve. He bit back a smile.

"Brooklyn," he said, giving in to a grin. "And, uh, if I may be so bold, can I have an audience with the queen?" he asked hopefully.

"Not a queen," Loki corrected. "A khaleesi."

*

"No," Thor said when he opened the door to the office. A handful of kids from the local public high school were hanging at the door, waiting to be let in for interviews. To his recollection, they hadn’t even applied.

"But–" started the kid in front. She was dressed in a red, white, and blue spangled varsity jacket and had a determined glare on her face.

"Didn't Loki ban you from the premises for your disturbances?" Thor frowned at the teenagers.

"He tried," she growled back.

Thor slammed the door shut.

*

As the week progressed, Darcy actually opted to take her lunch break. She was still attempting to avoid Bruce (and Tony). Steve had apologized and given her a caricature of her and Loki that he'd drawn (she'd taped it up on the espresso machine), which was nice, she supposed. She still wasn't quite sure what he was apologizing for, other than scaring the shit out of her.

She still wanted to avoid any awkwardness with Bruce until they could pretend none of it had ever happened. It seemed like Bruce did, too, as he hadn't shown up again during the work week – not even during Sif's shifts. But she wasn't going to take any chances.

So, Darcy headed down the street to Out of this Galaxy! Subs and took a seat at a café table in the sun while she waited for Groot to deliver her sub to her table. Darcy was pals with Gamora, the awesome green-and-pink-haired chick who basically ran the place (Quill's efforts as taste-tester were moot), and she always got a discount for being a regular.

(Darcy had only glimpsed the cook, Rocket, once or twice, and she had a conspiracy theory that he was actually from out of this galaxy, considering how much hair he had. But as long as he made great subs, Darcy didn't mind.)

Darcy was mid-bite in her amazingly greasy and delicious bacon sub when a dark shadow fell over her.

"Darcy?"

She looked up from her sandwich to see who was blocking her sun and almost dropped her lunch. Bruce Banner stood above her, his curly salt-and-pepper hair silhouetted by the sun (like in one of those paintings of Jesus or something). Of fucking course, she thought.

"Bruce?" she said, mouth full. Darcy winced, realizing how utterly unattractiveshe looked with a mouthful of bacon, lettuce, and tomato.

"Sorry for interrupting," he apologized. "I was just getting lunch."

"Hey, no, you're like, my favorite customer," she said hastily, swallowing quickly. "I'm just on my lunch break. Sit down or whatever, dude." She motioned to the empty seat across from her, where she was currently resting her feet. Self-consciously, Darcy tucked them under her chair and smiled.

"You, uh, got a little mustard on your face," Bruce said, sitting down across from Darcy with his plate.

"Shit," Darcy hissed, reaching for a napkin. "Thanks."

"You on your lunch break?" he asked. Darcy waited until she'd regained her composure to answer.

"Yeah," she shrugged. "Rocket makes the best subs, like, ever." She lowered her voice. "I'm pretty sure he's an alien."

"That good, huh?" Bruce asked with a smile. Darcy looked down at his uneaten sub.

"What, have you never eaten here before?" she asked. "What'd you get?"

"The Veggie Vortex Deluxe," Bruce said with a smile. "Space and vegetables. Couldn't resist."

Darcy laughed. "Are you a vegetarian?" she asked. At his nod, she looked down at her bacon sub. "Yeah, I tried that once. Once."

Bruce choked on a bite of his sub. It took Darcy a moment to realize he was laughing.

"Hey!" she protested, slapping him lightly on the arm. "Come on, I was serious, it wasn't some hipster-trend-thing," she pouted.

Bruce wiped his face with a napkin. "How long did it last, then? 24 hours? 48?"

Darcy opened her mouth in anger, but she shrugged. "72," she sighed. "I might've made it the whole week, but then my roommate thought 3AM was a great time to make bacon. What's your excuse?" Bruce snorted.

"Tony would say it was a part of my old-fuddie-duddie-hippie thing," Bruce grinned, waving his sub around in the air as he spoke. "I mean, he has a point. Green energy home renovation, free trade coffee, yoga, meditation, dedicating my life's work to clean energy development." He shrugged. “It’s better for the environment, and for my health. In my opinion, at least.”

"That's…pretty cool, actually," Darcy said. "So, clean energy development. Is that how you met Tony?" she asked.

"Not really," Bruce said, looking strangely sheepish. "I actually used to work R&D for the military. We met through my friend Betty."

"Really?" Darcy said, raising her eyebrows. "Wow. Why do you teach at U.H.C., then?"

"The military wasn't good for my temperament," Bruce replied with a wry smile. "I got a job here, and a year later, Tony got offered a position as well. I think he broke his contract to do it." Bruce shrugged.

"So, he was in R&D, too?" Darcy asked, knowing exactly how nosy she was being.

"In a way," Bruce said. He squinted at Darcy. "You really don't know who he is, do you?"

"Uh," Darcy said. "The syllabus says the test is next week, Professor, give us a break," she joked.

Bruce rolled his eyes. "He's a Stark," he said with a sigh. "You know, son of Howard Stark?"

"Holy shit," Darcy breathed. "The Howard Stark? Like, the genius inventor guy? Stark Industries? Apple's only real competitor?"

"Yeah," Bruce nodded. "How did you miss the media blitz when they stopped making weapons? And when Tony was kidnapped?"

"Probably because I was still in high school," Darcy snorted. "And, hold up – Tony was kidnapped?" She waited while Brue took a sip of his drink.

"Yeah," Bruce nodded. "He had a military contract, like I said. He was over in Afghanistan when he was kidnapped by a terrorist organization." Darcy whistled.

"Damn," she said. "How'd he get out?" Bruce shrugged, his eyes drifting down to the table.

"If you ask him, he'll quote that scene from Pirates of the Caribbean and say he roped up some turtles," he snorted. "You know, I probably shouldn't gossip about this," Bruce said. He looked kind of guilty.

"Is it anything I can't read on his Wikipedia page?" Darcy asked. "Because I'm not above that kind of creepy. Trust me." Bruce laughed.

"Alright," he said. "You got me there. Anyways, here's your modern history lesson, class: Tony got out of Afghanistan, shut down Stark Industries as a weapons manufacturer and switched to civilian electronics, and six months later, and signed a military exclusive contract. He started designing stuff for them: the Falcon pararescue program, some drones, and a bunch of top secret stuff."

"You could've just said he was like Q from James Bond," Darcy said when Bruce paused to take a sip of his iced tea.

"Oh, of course," Bruce said, "that would be so much easier." He rolled his eyes.

"That's a pretty crazy story," Darcy said. She looked down at her empty plate with a little disappointment at the lack of delicious sandwich.

"I know," Bruce said, "I keep telling him he should sell it to Hollywood." Darcy laughed.

"I'm surprised they haven't made a movie out of it yet," she said. "So, what's your story?"

"Huh?" Bruce crossed his arms and sat back in his chair, leaning away from Darcy.

"I mean, what's your crazy life story?" Darcy asked. "Why'd you quit the military? Why work here? I mean, I get it, it's hard to get a job in this economy, but," she waved her hand around. "Why this little college town? Why not live it up at a bigger university?"

Bruce frowned, and for a moment, Darcy wondered if she'd gone too far.

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you," Bruce said, cracking a smile. "Sorry, I signed too many non-disclosure agreements. You could be a Russian spy, for all I know."

"Drat!" Darcy giggled, "foiled again!"

"I can tell you that I like it here," Bruce said. "And, I mean, Tony ended up here, too. I guess it has a certain charm."

"He's been good for you," Darcy decided with a nod, reading between the lines of what Bruce had said about his time before he left the military. "You guys balance each other out."

"I – I guess so," Bruce said, giving Darcy a strange look. "Thanks, I think."

*

"– So, like, the bus just narrowly misses me, right? And then this biker guy – seriously, with the moustache and tattoos, leather jacket and everything, I didn't know those guys existed in real life – grabs me and slings me over his bike to rescue me, like I'm some maiden or something." The guy across the table took half a second to pause for breath. Thor jumped on his chance.

"Yes, Mr.–" Thor glanced down at his clipboard, to where 'Wade Wilson' had been printed in barely legible handwriting. "Wilson. I think–"

"Just call me 'Wade,'" Wilson said. He leaned his chair onto its back legs and rested his feet on the desk. "Or Deadpool. It's my superhero name."

Thor frowned.

"Y'know, the name of your first pet and the street you grew up on!" Wilson continued. "Or, wait," he shrugged, "maybe that's your porn name. I don't know. Let me Google it." He pulled his Android out of his pants pocket and began to type away on it.

Thor resisted the urge to smack himself over the head with his clipboard.

*

Where are you?

Steve's thumbs hovered over the touch screen of his iPhone, hesitating over Sharon Carter's text message.

Bakery on the corner of Main St, he texted back.

It buzzed barely a moment later when he got his reply:

Hoping to run into Stark again?

Steve looked up from his phone and let his eyes skate around the bakery instead. He'd chosen a seat by the window today, where the light was the brightest, but he hadn't yet pulled out his sketchbook. His stomach flipped uneasily. He'd barely touched his coffee.

I happen to like the scones they make here, he replied.

You suck at lying, and I can't even watch you for tells rn, Sharon texted a moment later.

Alright, Steve typed into his phone. Sometimes…I feel like, if things were different, we'd be good friends. You know? It's not his fault. His fingers hesitated over the send button.

"Who you texting, your girlfriend?" Darcy interrupted him. Steve startled, accidentally sending the message before he could finish. Darcy continued, "Or, hey, boyfriend, friend-of-any-gender, I don’t know."

Steve scooted his chair around so he could see her as she cleaned the table behind him. Darcy grinned as she washed up spilled coffee and crumbs.

"My ex, technically," Steve answered with a smile. "Though I appreciate your open mind."

"I don't want cookies for basic respect," Darcy replied. "You're on texting terms with an ex? Congratulations."

"No cookies for basic respect," Steve retorted. "Although, she's giving me shit right now, so I don't know how long that'll last."

Darcy laughed. "That's what friends are for," she said. Steve tried to smile back at her, but he couldn't manage to force it.

Steve looked down when his iPhone vibrated with another message from Sharon.

It's not your fault, either, she had replied.

"Hey," Darcy said softly, pulling out a chair. She straddled it backwards, resting her chin on the back of the chair, her cleaning rag dangling forgotten from one hand. "Do you need Wise Bar-ista-tender Darcy today?" She cleared her throat and put on a rough voice, like a bartender in an old movie. "You drinkin' to forget, bub?"

Steve chuckled, although she made him feel a little homesick.

"What's a guy gotta do to get something stronger than coffee around here?" he said, holding up his cup. "Nah," Steve shrugged. "It's just me being stupid, I guess. I think too much."

"No such thing," Darcy said brightly. "Without thinking, we wouldn't have some of our greatest thinkers – Albert Einstein, Hilary Clinton, J.K. Rowling – you know, the greats."

Steve snorted. "Not what I meant," he said. "I…used to be in the army. I lost some good men out there. Some good friends."

"I'm sorry," Darcy said sympathetically. Her face crumpled.

"Thanks," Steve nodded, because he knew she meant it. "It was my fault, though. I lost my friend because of a stupid mistake."

"There's no way it was your fault," Darcy frowned.

"It was," Steve said with a nod. He knew he wasn’t supposed to talk about his team – that most of his life up until a few years ago was a government secret – but he was tired of lying. "I made a mistake. I should’ve double-checked the intel we received before we went on our mission. It wasn’t even official, just a message my team’s techie picked up on an experimental communicator. Turned out to be a trap. A drone, rigged to explode. Me and my partner – we went down. I survived, but he got caught in the explosion. They never even found a body."

Steve looked down at his coffee and took a long drink. It was getting cold, but he needed something to do with his hands, a way to avoid Darcy's eyes.

“Well, I don’t know you very well,” Darcy admitted, “but I gotta admit, that’s utter bullshit.” Steve looked up in surprise. “There’s no way it’s your fault. Sounds to me like whoever set that trap is to blame for what happened – no one else.”

"That's what Sharon tells me," Steve sighed. "Some people disagreed, though."

"Then 'Some People' are idiots," Darcy said firmly. "I mean, Loki always says all people are idiots, so there you have it. Anyone who blamed you for that shit owes you an apology."

"You sound pretty sure of that," Steve said.

"I have a motto," Darcy said. She fanned her hands outwards as she said, "'Talk shit, get hit.' Except I work in the food industry, so it's become, 'Talk shit, get decaf.'"

Steve laughed. "I'll keep that in mind," he said. Darcy stood up and pushed her chair back in.

"You do," she smiled. "Chin up, Rogers. I better get back to work."

"Thanks," Steve said. "And – Darcy." She stopped and waited. "You’re something, you know that?”

“Damn straight, I do,” she said, pumping her fist in the air as she skipped back to the counter.

Before he left Asgard Bakery that day, Steve sent Sharon one last text:

I guess I'm the one that owes Tony an apology.

*

"And, I am an extremely hard worker," the interview subject babbled. "My strengths lie in customer service and technology. I am a computer expert, as well, so not only have I mastered Word and Excel, but I can handle any of your website updates, if you need that."

"That will not be necessary, Ms., uh, ma'am. We are only looking for waiters." Thor felt a pang of guilt, as he couldn't remember the woman's name.

"Just call me Skye, my legal name is kinda, uh, messy," she said with a smile.

"Yes," Thor said. "Well. It has been a pleasure to meet you, Skye. I'll get back to you soon."

"Thank you so much," Skye said, shaking Thor's hand as he attempted to usher her out the door. "It's always nice to meet an, uh, inspiring entrepreneur such as yourself!"

Once Thor had finally gotten her to leave the back office, he sighed. Jane poked her head in through the door.

"How's it going?" she asked, setting a coffee down on the table. Thor sighed. "That bad, huh?" she asked sympathetically.

"Thank you," he said, taking a long draught of the coffee. "But 'bad' is not the word I would choose."

"Disastrous?" Jane suggested. "Horrid? Terrible? Torturous?"

"The last one seems apt," Thor said.

"Hang in there," Jane said with a sympathetic smile, dropping a kiss to Thor's head. "How about we order from Pietro's Pizza tonight and have a night in, just the two of us? Is that enough to keep you going for a few more interviews?"

Thor grinned. "That is suitable motivation," he said.

*

The long weekend left Darcy hoping that life at the Bakery would go back to normal on Monday morning.

She'd managed to trade a couple shifts with Sif and have Sunday to herself (to work on school shit, unfortunately), but that also meant that she had to work practically all day Monday.

She was relieved to see Bruce and Tony together again. They chose a table close to the counter, avoiding the teenagers that were obviously skipping school (the public high school, not Xavier's, so Darcy wasn't afraid of risking the Professor's wrath by letting them hang out for an hour), the hipsters who were preoccupied with their Macbooks (minus Darcy's favorite hipster, Steve, who hadn't shown up yet), and the business-types with their paperwork.

Darcy hadn't quite managed to rid herself of her hopeless crush on Bruce. She was content to half-eavesdrop on his and Tony's conversations about TV and books, occasionally giving her two cents. Tony didn't seem to mind that Darcy had an – according to Loki – obvious crush on his boyfriend, either.

"Darcy," Tony called as she made a cappuccino (large Americano with extra whipped cream) for some guy who looked like a lawyer and told her to put 'Phil' on his cup.

"Yeah?" Darcy called back. She generously dolloped whipped cream on top of Phil’s coffee and added a sprinkle of cinnamon for effect. (After she asked if he was allergic, of course.)

"Do you watch Doctor Who?" he asked.

"Is the sky blue?" Darcy replied. She handed the Americano to Phil with a smile.

"Thoughts on Adric?" Tony asked. She walked over to the edge of the counter and leaned on it to face them. Behind Tony's back, Bruce shook his head in warning.

"Uh, I've only seen the new stuff, sorry," she said with a shrug.

"Oh my god," Tony gasped. "You heathen."

"You should watch some of the Fifth Doctor," Bruce added. "I think you'd like him."

"Specifically episodes with Adric," said Tony, returning to what Darcy assumed was their original argument. "Best companion ever." From the noise Bruce made, Darcy assumed he didn't agree.

"I liked Martha," Darcy said. "I'm still a Ten fan."

That launched another discussion about who was the best Doctor Who – Bruce was a fan of Jon Pertwee, but Tony liked Tom Baker.

The bell on the door rang as a new customer stepped inside. Darcy turned to hear what they ordered as they stepped up to Loki at the counter.

"May I take your order?" Loki asked in his usual monotone.

"Afternoon, Loki, Darcy," Steve said with a smile. "I'll have a medium mocha latte, in a to-go cup, and a cinnamon bagel."

"Hey," Darcy said, returning his greeting with a grin. "Do you watch Doctor Who?" she asked. She wrote his name carefully on the coffee cup, making sure her handwriting looked cool, in case he wanted to Instagram it later.

"No," Steve shook his head. "It's on my list, I think. I've seen Star Wars, though, and some Star Trek."

"Oh, god," Darcy heard Tony mutter from his table. She braced herself for the inevitable argument – whether it was another fight or a nerd-off.

"Please tell me it wasn't the prequel trilogy," Tony said, pushing his chair back from the table to lean towards Steve. "Or the reboot movies. Seriously, who is in charge of keeping you up-to-date with pop culture? They're doing a shitty job."

Steve frowned and took a step backwards. "Stark," he said, as though he was surprised to find Tony at a bakery they both frequented almost daily. (Darcy sighed. Men.)

"Please tell me you aren't going to fight over sci-fi, now," Bruce sighed from the table. "Come on, Tony."

"Back me up on this, Darcy," Tony said, but she shook her head.

"The missus and the ex," she smiled as she gave Steve's latte a little extra whipped cream, "every man's worst nightmare."

Tony laughed, but Bruce rolled his eyes, like it was a joke he'd long grown tired of.

"You ever gonna make an honest man of me, Bruce?" Tony asked, holding up his left hand and waggling his ring finger at Bruce.

"You? Honest?" Bruce snorted. "Better send some space heaters down to hell – it's frozen over."

"I didn't know you and Bruce were dating," Steve asked, his brow furrowing even deeper than before.

"I didn't, either," Tony laughed with a glance at Bruce. "When were you gonna tell me, Bruce?"

Darcy nearly dropped Steve's latte.

Loki grabbed it swiftly, glaring at Darcy as he passed it over the counter to Steve.

"Wait," Darcy said. "I thought you two were, like, together."

"What?" Bruce said. "God, no."

"We're not that codependent," Tony laughed.

"Oh, thank god," Darcy sighed in relief. "Hey, Bruce, you wanna go out to dinner sometime?"

The words were out of Darcy’s mouth before she fully realized she'd said them. She blushed violently, but held her ground.

Fuck it, Darcy thought, standing up with her chin high. I'm gonna own this.

"But –but you're dating Loki," Bruce stuttered, his eyebrows stitching together in an angry frown.

"Loki?" Darcy spat, laughing, "Loki's gay!"

“Thank you,” Loki sighed irritably, “for bringing me into the conversation I was trying so hard to avoid.”

Bruce spared Loki a glance, but his frown didn't shrink when he turned to look at Darcy.

"Are you serious?" he asked. "I mean – you two are always bickering, I thought –"

"Bruce," Tony groaned, running a hand over his face. "Bruce, Bruce, Bruce. I think the sentence you're looking for here is, 'Of course, what time should I pick you up?'"

To Darcy's surprise, Bruce started blushing at that. He ran a hand through his hair nervously, looking down at his table.

"Um," Bruce said awkwardly. "I know this really nice vegetarian restaurant?"

"Right on," Darcy said with a grin. She wrote her number on a napkin and stepped out from behind the counter to pass it to Bruce. He took the phone number with an amused look.

"You sure about this?" Bruce asked her. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her apron and shrugged.

"Are you gonna do that 'But I'm almost fifteen years older than you' thing?" she asked. "Because I honestly don't give a shit. And, I mean, you're not my teacher or anything – unless you're into that." Darcy winked.

With a sigh, Bruce took the napkin with her cell number and folded it into his pocket.

"If you're sure," he said cautiously.

"Of course I'm sure," she said. "Seriously, if I didn't think you and Tony were gay married, I'd have asked you out a long time ago."

"I wish I would've ditched him a long time ago, then," Bruce said, the corners of his mouth quirking up. He smiled shyly up at her. Their eyes met for a fleeting moment.

"– Come on, Stark," Steve snapped, his suddenly sharp voice drawing their attention away. Tony had joined him in front of the counter, and they were caught in another argument.

"No, you come on, Rogers," Tony replied. "I was just trying to –"

"Hey!" Jane said loudly. They all froze, turning to see Jane standing in front of the doors that led to the kitchen. "Take it outside, boys," she said sternly, "or I'm banning you from this establishment."

With a glare at Tony, Steve grabbed the coffee he'd paid for, abandoning the plate that held his bagel and heading for the door. It had barely swung shut before Tony was scrambling to grab his jacket.

"Tony–" Bruce started, voice warning. Tony sprinted for the door.

"Sorry," he said over his shoulder as he ran out after Steve.

Darcy looked at Bruce.

"Just an FYI," she said, pointing between the two of them, "if this becomes a Thing, we are never double-dating with Tony."

The angry glare dropped off Bruce's face as he met Darcy's eye and laughed. She rested her hands on her hips triumphantly.

"Darcy," Jane called, interrupting her moment. "Back to work."

*

"No," Thor snapped.

"Oh, Thor," Amora drawled, twisting a lock of her golden hair between her fingers. "For old time's sake?"

"No," Thor said more firmly. He ripped her application in half, and then made an effort not to slam the office door shut.

*

“Rogers! Hey, Rogers!”

Steve had walked around the corner of the street and was at the back of Asgard Bakery by the time Tony caught up with him. For a moment, he considered hiding from Tony behind one of the dumpsters.

“Rogers,” Tony called. “Come on!”

Steve wheeled around at the mouth of the alleyway behind the bakery.

“What do you want, Stark?” he spat.

“Come on, Rogers, can’t you take a joke?” Tony said, stopping a few feet away on the sidewalk.

“It’s funny how you always seem to say that after you’ve told a joke that isn’t so funny,” Steve growled. He crossed his arms over his wide chest.

“Then maybe you shouldn’t take everything so seriously,” Tony replied, waving a hand in flippant dismissal.

“This coming from the guy who takes nothing seriously,” Steve snorted. He rolled his eyes. “I get it, Stark. You can dish it out, but you can’t take it.”

“Oh, I can take it,” Tony shot back, leaning forwards. “What I can’t take anymore is your bullshit, Rogers. You’ve been picking fights with me for years, but you always act like I’m the one who starts them. What the hell is your problem?” he asked loudly. Steve’s chest swelled with annoyance.

“You are my problem,” Steve snarled, fists clenching at his sides. “You’ve always been my problem. Walking around like you own the place, telling jokes at my expense, flirting with everything that moves – acting like you had a right to everything.”

“Did you really have a problem with the flirting?” Tony laughed bitterly, looking away from Steve. “Or was the problem that I didn’t flirt with you?”

Steve opened his mouth to protest, but Tony shook his head.

“I’m not an idiot, Steve, I have eyes,” he said in a sharp, bitingly bitter tone. “You’re a fucking hypocrite, you know that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Steve said firmly. Tony laughed again.

“Like hell you don’t,” Tony scoffed. “I walked in on you, Carter, and Barnes. I saw the way you looked at them.” He broke off to take a deep, shuddering breath, his eyes drifting downwards to the pavement. “And it wasn’t the way you looked at me.”

“What?” Steve breathed. “We weren’t – we never – Tony,” he said suddenly, stepping forwards to make Tony look him in the eye. “Were you the one who started those rumors?”

Tony at least had the sense to look sheepish. He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck until he couldn’t avoid Steve’s gaze any longer.

“One night, I went to your quarters after a mission,” Tony said, finally glancing up at Steve. “I saw the three of you, snuggled up together on the bed. I can put two and two together, Steve,” he said patronizingly.

“Yeah, and get ten,” Steve sighed. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tony – you have to understand, Bucky was all I had left of home. And Peggy,” he shrugged. “Well. Peggy had been there for me since the start. After a rough mission, we knew we could find comfort in each other’s company. We weren’t sleeping together. We were just –“

“Sleeping together,” Tony sighed, realization dawning.

“For a genius, you can be an idiot, sometimes,” Steve frowned. Tony rolled his eyes.

“It’s part of my charm,” he said. Steve opened his mouth to speak, but Tony interrupted him, holding up his hand.

“Oh!” he said, “I just remembered. Hold on a sec, before you yell at me again. I’ve got something for you.” Tony began to rifle through his pockets.

“Forget it,” Steve sighed. He ran his hand over his face, trying to calm down. He still felt so angry at Tony.

"Ah-ha!" Tony said triumphantly, finally pulling out his wallet. He pulled something out of it, a piece of paper, and held it out for Steve to take. Steve looked down cautiously. "Oh my god," Tony sighed, waving the paper in his face, "Just take it, Rogers, it's not gonna bite you."

Steve took the paper from Tony and froze.

It was the picture – it was him, the Commandos, Tony, Peggy, Bucky – the one he'd lost. Steve stared at it for a long moment.

"Where'd you get this?" he asked.

"Had it on an old hard drive," Tony shrugged. "I just printed it out, you know, in case I ran into you again. Thought you might want it."

“I did,” Steve said softly, tucking it into his pocket. “I – thanks. I, um.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Tony waved him off.

“Stark,” Steve started with a sigh. “Tony. I owe you an apology.” Steve forced himself to look up at Tony. “I don’t know if you remember, but, after Bucky died, I said some things to you. They weren’t right, and I—“

“Forget about it,” Tony said flippantly, waving his hand again in blasé dismissal. “Let it go. That’s ancient history.”

“It isn’t,” Steve said. “I’m not going to forget what happened, Tony.”

“I wish you would,” Tony sighed.

 “Do you have to argue with me over everything?” Steve said in frustration, throwing his hands up in the air.

“No,” Tony smirked. “But I like to.” Steve had to bite back a fond smile.

“What I’m trying to say,” Steve sighed exasperatedly, “is that I’m sorry for blaming you. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t your fault, either,” Tony said, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Sometimes shit just happens. You know that as well as anyone else.”

“Damn it, Stark,” Steve said. “Just let me apologize.”

“No,” Tony snapped back. “If you apologize for being an ass, then I have to apologize for being an ass.”

“Tony—“

“And, frankly, that’s not something I make a habit of doing,” Tony continued over him. “I mean, first I apologize for saying it was your fault that mission failed, and then I have to apologize for spreading rumors about you and your friends, and then I have to apologize for pulling on your pigtails like a jealous schoolboy—“

“Tony,” Steve repeated.

“—And calling you a steroid-junkie, and shooting at you that one time—“

“Tony,” Steve sighed, trying to get a word in, “just shut up for a second.”

“Ooh,” Tony smirked up at him, “make me.”

It was a terrible cliché. Tony was goading him, flirting, trying to get a reaction out of him – and Steve was falling for it.

He was tired of skating around this, avoiding obvious lingering looks and moments alone, pretending that Tony didn’t infuriate him in all the best ways. Steve met the mischievous, daring look in Tony’s eyes and boldly stepped into his personal space.

He knew how to shut Tony up.

Steve leaned down and kissed him.

Tony brought a hand up to tangle in Steve’s hair. He kissed him back, hard, holding Steve fast. He kissed hungrily, fiercely, like this was another fight to win. Steve curled his fingers around the knot in Tony’s tie and tugged him closer.

Tony began to laugh.

“About damn time,” Tony breathed when Steve pulled away a moment later.

“That enough to shut you up?” Steve asked with a smirk. Tony laughed.

“It’ll take a hell of a lot more than that to keep me quiet,” Tony said, grabbing onto the collar of Steve’s shirt and backing the pair of them into the back alley.

Tony pulled Steve behind a dumpster, pushed him up against the brick wall, and kissed him once more.

*

"Clint Barton," the man introduced himself, holding out a hand for Thor to shake. The second Thor dropped Barton's hand, Barton pulled back and ran his fingers through his blonde hair. His hair looked worse than the bedhead he'd already shown up with. He was wearing jeans and a purple shirt that read "HCHS ARCHERY TEAM CLASS OF 2012-13," even though his application listed his high school graduation date as some years earlier.

"Mr. Barton," Thor said. He glanced down at the clipboard Jane had given him. "Glad you could make it."

"I'm not late, am I?" Barton gulped. "I mean, the lady on the phone said three. It is three, right? My clock batteries aren't–"

"Do not worry, my friend, you are not late," Thor smiled. "Shall we begin?"

The End?