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Living in a frat house tower full of superheroes took some adjustment. Everybody had their foibles, Darcy knew, but this team was just a little... jumpier than most. Therefore, the ever-lengthening list of house rules. The first page went like this:
- Don't sneak up on Bruce. Duh.
- Don't accept food from Tony; there's an even chance it'll contain a) motor oil, b) accidental metal shavings, c) so much caffeine, or d) wheatgrass.
- Don't accept beverages from Thor. Just — don't.
- Pick up after yourself in the common areas, or Steve will give you Disappointed Face.
- If you need a buddy for watching animated movies, Sam is always ready for that.
- If you see a hair tie (or other hair related accessory), it is Bucky's. Yes, even the sparkly pink ones. Yes, you can borrow them, if you ask nicely.
- Natasha hates cucumbers. Do not bring them into the common area. (Remember that time Sam bought a cucumber-melon candle for the living room? Oh, the horror.) Pickles are okay, though.
- Don't touch Clint's food.
Darcy was there to learn that one first-hand, the day Tony tried to sneak a fry off Clint's plate and took a fork to the phalanges for his trouble. Stark had shrieked, Natasha had smirked, and Steve, Bucky and Bruce had all looked sympathetically at Clint, which just make Tony pout all the more. He put a gaudy Iron Man™ band-aid over the puncture marks and wore it for weeks.
Maria Hill was not sympathetic, when she heard the story. "Don't touch Barton's food. Everybody knows that. You should ask Agent Woo why his little finger bends at that weird angle."
It was a strange kind of arrangement, but after a few missteps and quite a lot of property damage, it all seemed to work.
Which was why, one crisp December morning, the Avengers were all cozied up in various spots around the (very tidy) common area, Frozen playing on the huge TV, cinnamon scented candles burning merrily on the end tables.
Sam was watching, of course. He was singing along to the music numbers under his breath, somehow still looking completely heroic while doing it. Natasha and Bucky lazed on the couch with Sam; Bucky was watching the movie for the first time, and Nat scrolled through something on her phone while idly playing with Bucky's hair. Steve sat in an armchair nearby, sketching.
Tony, Bruce and Jane were clustered around the informal dining table, talking science. Darcy was proud of herself for that one; she'd lured them up and out of the labs herself, with the promise of fresh-baked sugar cookies. She couldn't help but notice, though, that they were using the cookies to diagram out some complex theoretical problem instead of eating them.
Thor was stretched out on the floor before the fireplace. His fingers were laced together over his stomach, nearly obscuring the glittery reindeer knitted into his truly horrible sweater. There were cookie crumbs in his beard, and he seemed to be sleeping.
Darcy leaned against the kitchen island, reveling in the domestic superhero bliss and a little bit distracted by that one song with the snowman. Somebody bumped her shoulder; she pressed her lips closed on a surprised shriek. It was Clint, endearingly casual in ripped jeans and a long-sleeved henley. He grinned in apology for her startlement. Darcy took that in, along with everything else, and wondered where he even found henley shirts in purple.
"Nice, huh?"
Darcy was nodding in fervent agreement before she realized he was looking out at the assembled teammates. Oh.
"You know what this scene needs?" Clint straightened from where he'd been leaning against the counter, and began to search through the cabinets. "Hot cocoa."
"That does sound good," Darcy agreed, appreciating this new view. Clint's henley rode up a little. Darcy cleared her throat. "I think there's some Swiss Miss in the coffee and tea cupboard."
The look Clint shot her was comically affronted. "I hope we can do better than that, Lewis." He opened a few more cupboard doors before pulling out sugar and cocoa, chocolate chips and chile powder, vanilla extract and cinnamon sticks. From the fridge came milk and heavy cream.
Darcy frowned at the assortment dubiously. That looked like a lot of work.
"Watch and learn, grasshopper." Clint winked at her, and set a heavy-bottomed saucepan on a burner.
It turned out making "real" hot cocoa involved a lot of stirring and not much else. Darcy leaned a hip against the counter and watched Clint watch the swirling liquid, his mind seemingly a thousand miles away.
"You know, Swiss Miss would be quicker."
Clint lifted his eyes to to focus all that attention on her. The effect was startling. "I'm a sniper. We're patient people. Plus," his smile was almost all innocence, "good things come to those who wait."
Darcy felt her cheeks heat, and covered by rolling her eyes.
"Will you get the mugs?"
Darcy was glad for the distraction. She bustled around, gathering everyone's favorites. The chipped, handmade mug Bruce always used, with its beautiful blue glaze. Sam's Air Force mug, Bucky's with the teddy bears on it, Steve's that had "NOT PAINT WATER" sharpied in big letters on both sides. Natasha's tall mug that seemed sleek black until you filled it with something hot, when it revealed dozens of bright glowing stars. Tony's mug seemed to be literally gold-plated ("it was a gift," he explained the first time the others saw it, waving his hand as if to forestall further questions and spilling half his coffee as he did so). Thor's mug was extra-large, and shaped like a cat, with its curling tail for a handle. Jane had somehow acquired a SETI mug, which made all the scientists giggle. Clint's mug was purple (of course), and had targets painted on it. And lastly, Darcy's own, a plain Jadeite mug she'd inherited from her grandmother.
Once she had them all lined up on the counter, Clint went down the row, pouring carefully. Darcy reached for the first of the mugs as he set the pan down, but he reached back without looking and batted her hand away.
"One last thing." Clint reached into a low cabinet and pulled out an enormous bag of mini-marshmallows. He grinned at her. "Garnish."
They took turns dropping a few marshmallows into each mug and then carrying them out to the appropriate Avenger. Jane and Tony barely noticed, except to immediately incorporate their mugs into the sugar cookie diagram, but Bruce murmured his thanks as Darcy placed the blue mug at his elbow. Over on the couch, the movie watchers were much more enthusiastic. Bucky even took his head out of Natasha's lap so he could drink.
Darcy nudged Thor with a toe. "Hot cocoa, big guy?"
He smiled up at her without opening his eyes, and she set the kitty-cat mug down next to his head. "Thank you, Darcy."
Back at the kitchen counter, two mugs remained unclaimed. Darcy was bemused to realize that Clint's was less than half full. Had they not made enough?
She didn't have to wonder long before Clint joined her and solved the mystery by cramming a large handful of marshmallows into the remaining space. He used the stirring spoon to squish them down, and packed still more marshmallows in.
"That is disgusting." Darcy sipped her cocoa as disdainfully as she could. It was amazing, rich and mildly spicy, and she gave an involuntary small sigh of pleasure.
"Better than instant, right?" Clint smiled at her, and mashed at his unholy concoction some more. "And screw you, the marshmallows are the best part." One marshmallow rolled free. He lofted it carelessly toward the science table, where it lodged, unnoticed, in Tony's hair.
Darcy scoffed at him. "Yeah? Prove it." She set down her own mug and made grabby hands at his. Halfway through the gesture, she froze, remembering house rules — don't touch Clint's food — but he seemed not to notice, and slid his cocoa into her grasp.
Darcy lifted the purple mug, half expecting to have it violently snatched away again. The brew inside was by this time frothing and oozing around white marshmallowy chunks. She took a careful sip.
It was — okay. She licked her lips thoughtfully. Sweet, and creamy, and thicker than she might like, but she could see the appeal. Darcy set the mug back down close to Clint's hand, her purple lipstick smudge making a new target on the rim, and looked up to find him watching her. Staring at her mouth, if Darcy was going to be specific about it.
"You got a..." he trailed off. And then leaned in and kissed her.
That was — better than okay. Darcy fisted one hand in Clint's soft purple henley and pulled him closer, put her other hand in his hair to hold him still while she deepened the kiss. Clint made a small sound of surprise against her mouth, and obligingly parted his lips. His hands came to rest lightly on her hips, and when his fingers found that line of bare skin at the edge of her sweater, Darcy couldn't help but shiver in appreciation.
When they broke apart to breathe, Darcy fixed Clint with a mock-affronted glare. "What the hell was that, Barton?"
"House rules, Darce." Clint rolled his eyes up to indicate the greenery pinned to the cabinets above them. His lips were swollen and smeared with Darcy's lipstick as they quirked into an aw-shucks smile.
Darcy snorted a laugh. "That's holly, you dumbass. The mistletoe is over there." And she grabbed his hand and towed him over to the doorway, where a small bunch of green stems with white berries garlanded the arch.
Their cocoa went cold. Darcy did not care.