Chapter Text
Captain America is a dick, and I may never forgive him. Like, ever. I swear to Thor, the guy is a douche-canoe of epic proportions and he is never getting a customized playlist from me ever again. Come on Darcy, he said, puppy dog eyes trained in on me with full power, This isn’t even a real mission, Just surveillance, it’ll be easy, he said. Just surveillance my ass. He’d asked me to help him out on a teeny tiny ‘personal’ problem, something that should have been easy for someone who was training to be an Agent of SHIELD, before, well, ya know, the whole shit fight in DC. There was a group of men who he believed had been involved with the day to day care of the Winter Soldier, before he did his whole ‘Free Willy’ impersonation.
Problem was, bless his righteous soul, the good ole Captain forgot one tiny detail about my stupid, ex Poli-sci student self. I suck at this whole covert thing. Literally, the one time I got sent out on a mission with a senior agent I got us both stuck in a well for over 36 hours. An honest to god, slimy as hell, cold, wet, water well. We weren’t even supposed to get out of our car! But in my defence, I really had to pee and there was a very promising looking clump of trees that I would have made it to had I not tripped and taken a horrible little vacay where even lassie dared not go.
Anyways, so there I was, in a Starbucks of all places, (Do not even get me started on the epic shitfest that is Starbucks), and I was surveilling these guys, when the only thing I’m really qualified to survey since my good old SO up and abandoned me is the coffee order of a senior agent. So I’m staring at this group of dudes, but in like a totally covert way, when all of a sudden one of them just grabs me by the arms and drags me outside. I mean the nerve! He didn’t even bother trying to be subtle about it! He was just all douchey and muscly and totally hot, which by the way, is totally not fair because cute faces should not happen to bad people, especially Hydra people. I told him this, of course, because I have awful verbal diarrhoea, and I’m pretty sure if anyone ever decided that I was valuable enough to kidnap because of the whole Thor thing I would accidently tell them everything they wanted to know before they even had to torture me. Which is probably the reason I never really upgraded from ‘coffee girl’ after Hawkeye stopped trying to train me when SHIELD commandeered my employment from Jane in what they’d called an ‘opportunity’ and an ‘enticing pay rise’ and I called ‘inappropriate timing’ and a ‘violation of privacy’, but I was pretty sure was just a way of ensuring I didn’t blurt something stupid to some stranger or slow Jane down in her research into the rainbow road. Which, I personally found insulting, I mean really, I did help save the world that time in London. Not to mention I built every single machine in Janes lab from scratch. But every time I voiced this opinion I was given a condescending look and told a Mechanical Engineer without even so much as a completed Political Science degree was of no use to them. The bastards.
So now, ladies and gentlemen, we round to present time, aka me standing in a dingy DC back alley surrounded by Hydra goons and nobody to blame but Steve Rodgers and my shitty surveillance skills. Tall , Hot and Douchey was holding me up against the wall by my throat, which I must say wasn’t my favourite thing in the world, and his pals, Captain Cockface and Sergeant Shortass were making the creepy serial killer eyes at me.
“So I guess your toothbrush got blown up along with the Triskellion then,” I intoned to THD before wincing as he tightened his hold on my throat and sneering in my face. Ugh. Total murder breath dudebro, not cool.
“Is that … Octopus I smell?” I gasped out, spots were dancing before my eyes by this point and I was really really beginning to wish I had a brain to mouth filter. Also that I’d found time to keep up with the more physical aspect of my training after Clint bounced. Or that I had my Taser in my hoodie pocket, instead of in my huge bag back inside the Starbucks. Jesus, the list of regrets I’m going out with is huge, while we’re at it I might as well add never growing the balls to pinch Captain Apple Ass’, well, ass.
Just as I was about to tap out on the whole breathing thing I found myself abruptly on the floor and once again consuming oxygen. Yay! I mean, so what if I was doing the goldfish thing and making weird gaspy noises. I almost died. There were literal spots in my vision, I totally saw the light. And it absolutely was of the ‘Come-to-the-dark-side-we-have-cookies’ variety, and not the street light at the entrance to the alley. Of this I am totally 98.7% sure.
“Ты в порядке там кукла?” a raspy voice asked from somewhere to the left. To the left. Everything I own in a box to the left. Ha, Oh Beyoncé you never fail me in my times of need.
“The hell is Beyoncé?” Oh, Guess I said that out loud, awkward. Speaking of awkward, my word vomit is totally not as awkward as the actual vomit that I did all over my saviours shoes after I finally opened my eyes and saw three Super-Dead-Hot-Douchey-Evil-Hydra-Goons just beyond a pair of worn combat boots.
“Ugh, I am so sorry, You totally just saved my life and then I spaced out and then I vomited on your shoes, God, I knew I wasn’t cut out for this super spy stuff, but does Barton listen to me? No! Of course not! He has to be all ‘Hey Darcy, come work for SHIELD, we aren’t as shady and awful as you think! There will be free coffee always! It’ll be fun’ and then he has to go and fucking abandon me and then stupid fucking Captain America and his stupid fucking righteousness and stupid fucking puppy dog eyes and his stupid fucking search for the goddam fucking shitty Winter Soldier and now with the fucking dead guys and ugh, I need a zanax and like seven and a half shots of tequila and oh my god dude is that an AK-47 in your duffle bag?!” I finally paused my tirade to look up into the slightly confused face of a sort of homeless looking guy with one metal hand and – oh fuck. The Winter Soldier. James. Bucky fucking Barnes. Fuck.
After what felt like an eternity of me aimlessly opening and closing my mouth and staring at him with wide eyes he cracked a tiny smirk.
“I gotta say doll, I haven’t heard that many ‘fucks’ in one sentence since my army days, and even then, you still might take the cake,” His rusty accent and twinkling blue eyes brought me crashing back to reality and the pain in my throat crashing to the surface as I managed two more words before passing out.
“Fuckin A,”