Chapter Text
When it came to Darcy Lewis, Steve learned to expect anything. She was gregarious and spunky, and Steve was convinced that she shared some of Tony’s mad genius. She did have a good head on her shoulders, though, despite her unorthodox tendencies.
Darcy Lewis was a good sort of woman – responsible and dependable. Just altogether unpredictable.
So when she showed up on Steve’s doorstep one night soaking wet, bruised, and covered in glitter, Steve wasn’t terribly surprised. Very concerned – her eyes were too bright and she bounced nervously on her feet – but not terribly surprised. It was raining cats and dogs – no wonder she was soaked to the bone – but his blood began to simmer at the sight of Darcy’s battered body.
The glitter was simply inexplicable.
And suddenly Darcy was plastered to him, her arms wrapped tightly around his middle. The surprise nearly knocked him off his feet, but he recovered quickly. She was trembling.
Steve frowned, but tentatively hugged her back. “Is everything alright?” he asked slowly.
“Mhm.” She nodded into his shoulder. Her juicy sniffle cast doubt on her hasty response.
“Why don’t you come inside and tell me what’s going on.” Steve gently (he hoped) extricated himself from her arms and led her inside his apartment. He locked the door behind them.
“I’m sorry to barge in on you like this,” Darcy sniffled. She hugged her abdomen and stared at the floor. “I know it’s late and-”
“You’re always welcome here.” He repressed the urge to touch her cheek and pull her into a tight hug. “But before you say anything, I need you to answer one question.”
Darcy glanced up at him uneasily.
“Who did this to you?” Steve clenched his fist at his side. “Who did this to you and where is he? I want his name.”
Tears welled in Darcy’s beautiful brown eyes, but she forced a bright smile and tried to wave his concern away. He eyed the colorful glitter wafting from her drying skin to the floor. “Oh, you don’t have to worry about them,” Darcy informed too cheerfully. She wasn’t nearly as alright as she wanted him to think. “I took care of them. They look worse than I do. Police got ‘em now.”
Steve took a deep breath in.
And out.
And in.
And out.
Finally, Steve said, “I think you need to take a warm shower and put on some dry clothes. Then we’ll look at those cuts and you can tell me what happened.”
“A shower would be good,” Darcy bit her lip. “But the paramedics already checked me out.” Darcy hitched her shoulders sheepishly.
Steve closed his eyes and exhaled long and slow. He silently led her down the hall to the bathroom, put out a fresh towel, and handed her the first pair of clean clothes he found. He tried not to think about the lack of undergarments. It was difficult to tell, under all the multi-colored glitter, but Steve could have sworn she was blushing.
He knew he was.
When she emerged from his bathroom, wet, glitter-free, and in his clothes, Steve had to force his mind away from inappropriate thoughts – thoughts Darcy seemed blessedly unaware of. She met him at his kitchen table and gratefully accepted the mug of hot chocolate Steve had prepared.
Steve silently opened up the first-aid kit. He was undecided about whether or not she looked worse now that she was clean. She sported a nasty black eye, her right cheek was cut, both arms had patches of bruises, and her knuckles looked worse for the wear. But she seemed better, more calm, than when he first opened the door.
“What happened, Darcy?” Steve asked quietly.
“Just a minor misunderstanding.”
“A minor...” Steve trailed off and glared at Darcy. He shook his head, grumbling under his breath. He was beginning to understand how Bucky had to have felt back in the day.
“Yep.” Darcy popped the ‘p’ and grinned. This time, her grin lacked a hysterical edge. “See, they thought they needed my purse and, well, everything in my apartment. I disagreed.”
Steve’s eyes narrowed, but maintained a calm voice. “And the glitter?”
Darcy paused, blinking. “You know, I’m not really sure.” She tilted her head and scrunched her nose. “Probably from the boxes I threw at the guy coming over here.” She shrugged. “It was behind an arts and crafts store, so probably then.”
Steve froze. “Come again?” His voice was low and dangerous.
Darcy hitched a shoulder uneasily. “Yeah….so….”
“Let me get this straight.” Steve took a deep breath. “Someone broke into your apartment.”
“Two guys,” Darcy supplied helpfully. “I whopped their hineys.”
Steve winced. “Two guys broke into your apartment. And then you...walked...over to my apartment...and someone-”
“One guy.”
“One guy...” Steve choked on the words. He swallowed hard, anger flaring up hot and wild.
Darcy shook her head. “No, he wanted my purse. I won that one, too.”
Steve could only stare at Darcy. He took a deep breath. He appreciated her strength of will and independence. He respected strong women like Darcy, like Peggy. But the thought of his Darcy, strong as she was, against three (two, a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Darcy reminded him) men made Steve itch to step in and help. Darcy could fight her own battles, but Steve knew her limitations – and her propensity to take on more than she should without batting an eye.
“I think you should start from the top and fill in the blanks.”
And Darcy did. She explained with faltering calm how she had been in her apartment making cookies when two guys burst in. Darcy had managed to taser one. (Steve smirked at that.) The other one had got in a few good punches while his buddy was writhing on the ground, but Darcy ultimately smacked his face with a hot cookie sheet. (She bemoaned the waste of cookies.) A neighbor had heard the commotion and called the cops, so the perpetrators were in custody. But the whole thing had rattled Darcy and she couldn’t be alone and somehow her phone had gotten busted during the scuffle so she impulsively decided to walk to Steve’s apartment because where else would she go and it was only a few blocks away, right? Right. So she had started walking and then it started raining and then some guy jumped her and tried to take her purse and wasn’t it just that kind of night for her? So blows were exchanged and she threw a box at him and he ran off and she kept her purse, thank you very much and then there she was, sitting at his table.
And then she burst into tears and Steve didn’t know what to do.
Staring at her helplessly, Steve cast about for what in the world to do to console her. Because he loved her, dammit, and she wasn’t supposed to cry! But she had every reason to cry and he kicked himself that he wasn’t there to protect her when she needed it. Never mind that she had somehow defended herself successfully. She shouldn’t have to.
Against his better judgment, Steve hauled Darcy into his lap and cradled her to his chest. He murmured softly into her hair and held her close.
“I’m glad you were home,” Darcy whispered when her tears subsided.
Steve rested his cheek on the top of her head. “Me, too.” His grip tightened. He couldn’t bear to think about a world without his bright, spunky Darcy.