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It was a rare white Christmas Eve at the Tower. The snow was drifting through the black and neon New York City skyline as the cars sat still, bumper-to-bumper in the slow crawl of rush hour traffic.
Tonight was the Tower’s festive dinner, taking the rare lack of missions and disasters to celebrate the holidays altogether. It definitely beat trying to corral everyone over Skype like holidays past, especially since Darcy always ended up being the one trying to organize those calls, likening it to herding cats.
A quick glance at her phone confirmed the rest of the team were already loaded into vehicles and halfway across the city by now, trying to beat the mutiny that city-dwellers had over the holidays.
But Darcy Lewis was a little distracted.
So distracted she didn’t hear the footsteps and broad-shouldered strut of a very particular super soldier against the carpet in the hall.
“I was looking for you,” Steve called out, leaning on the doorframe as Darcy bolted a foot in the air at the sound of him.
It wasn’t the door to her room or even a meeting room. Not a kitchen or the cafeteria. Steve Rogers had found Darcy in the middle of Tony Stark’s office, and she felt a little like she was caught snooping by the resident principal. She hopped back from the magazine she’d been perusing moments earlier, dropping the box that had been in her grasp onto the nearby coffee table.
And despite the fact that she had no reason to feel as guilty as she did, Darcy scrambled to put together an excuse to the questioning look Steve was wearing, clutching her chest at the surprise. She could have sworn JARVIS told her the residential section of the Tower was long empty.
“And I was looking for Tony, but it looks like he actually left on time for once,” she huffed with a smile, trying to hold back the rest of her nervous ramble (without much luck). “What a concept. A billionaire who wasn’t late to his own party? It must be a first.”
Steve stepped into the room to get a closer look, the door closing behind him, looking a little unconvinced at her explanation, “And you just thought you’d poke around his things?”
There was the ghost of a smile on his face, but his eyes were all business, tracking her every move as he tried to put together what she was up to.
“C’mon, Steve. You’re telling me you’ve never snooped through someone’s things before?” she shot back with a mischievous grin. “I don’t buy it.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, looking like he still had something to say. As if he was going to call Darcy out on her blatant lie. But with a shake of his head, he seemed to settle on the practical next steps, likely leaving the interrogation for the ride over.
“Well, the rest of the team’s already left, so we should get a move on if we want to make it by dessert.”
Darcy, convinced that Steve was probably verging on hangry with his super-soldier metabolism, sighed, “Whatever you say, Cap.”
Darcy was never one to back down from a challenge, even when that challenge was getting a response out of the often stoic Captain America himself.
She’d tried to be clever, offering little one-liners and quips when they passed each other on the residential and common floors. And sure, she could manage a breathy laugh, sometimes a real one— maybe even a blush if she was lucky.
But Mr. America himself was a hard nut to crack.
Maybe the challenge was the reason she found him more fun to play around with than Tony.
She knew how much the nickname grated on his nerves, waiting for the annoyance flash behind those big blue eyes of his. But Steve merely turned back towards the entrance, fist heavy on the handle of the office door.
Darcy watched him turn it once, twice, three times, with the creases in his face getting progressively deeper as nothing followed.
“Uh, Jarvis? Any reason why the door won’t open?” Steve called out into the ceiling.
“It seems that the mechanism is jammed, Captain. I will attempt to reset it from my end.”
Another jiggle of the handle was fruitless, and Darcy could see the calculating look in Steve’s eyes as he waited for Jarvis to report back.
“As it seems that this is a mechanical issue, I’m unfortunately unable to help free you.”
That crease in Steve’s forehead deepened at the development, and Darcy felt the need to help mitigate, “So, we’re in a building full of people, right? Do we have a handyperson on-site for after-hours stuff, Jay?”
Steve looked skeptically between Darcy and the ceiling.
“I’ve attempted to contact three of the Stark Industries-approved locksmiths we have on file. Unfortunately, between traffic caused by the current weather conditions and the holiday, it may take several hours until they arrive. At the latest, someone should arrive to help by morning?”
Even the AI sounded tentative about this. Not a good sign.
“So we’re locked in Tony’s office?” Darcy asked, voice sounding more pathetic than she meant it to.
Darcy tried not to let the panic show in her words... or the frustration— maybe even a little rage thrown in there for good measure because, at the end of the day, this was Tony’s fault. But if a billionaire didn’t have the resources to get them out before she had to deal with Captain Hangry, who did?
“Not if I have anything to do with it,” Steve said, readying his shoulder.
Even through the cable knit sweater, she could just make out the definition and lines of his muscles. Of course. Brute force. Why didn’t she think of it before?
Steve to the rescue.
“As that is a load-bearing wall, Captain, I would ask that you refrain from trying to break it down. If possible.”
Their eyes followed up towards the ceiling, not intent on major structural damage today. It was bad enough when they had to undergo construction post-Ultron. They couldn’t risk wrecking any space that would inconvenience more than Tony —plus, they’d probably never live it down if Steve did end up just breaking down the door.
“Great,” Steve groaned, rubbing his face with his palms.
Darcy tried to avoid thinking about the disappointment painting Steve’s reply. That was only natural, right? It wasn’t like she was the worst person to get stuff in an office with, right? It was just the circumstance, probably. Likely.
Maybe.
Suddenly she wasn’t feeling great about teasing him about his title, wondering if that might have been the straw to break the ordinarily polite proverbial camel’s back.
“So I guess we’re not making dinner,” Darcy mumbled, trying to hide her own dejection. “Can you let Tony—?”
“I’ve already contacted sir to let him know that you will be late.”
“Thanks, Jay.”
There were worse places to be stuck, she tried to convince herself. It would be like a very corporate sleepover…depressingly only floors away from where they’d normally rest their head at nights. Maybe she could make a pillow fort in the corner with the couch cushions and sleep the rest of this stupid day away.
Darcy sat in the plush leather chair in front of Tony’s desk, leaning her chin in her palm as she tried to think it through. She could feel Steve’s unease behind her.
They weren’t the closest of friends. Sure, she tried to flirt occasionally, putting on her best wide smile and maybe even throwing in some baked goods for good measure. But she never got past a polite smile, or Boy Scout-worthy ‘thank you, ma’am.’ He probably wasn’t even interested— he was several solar systems above her league.
Steve slumped onto the couch across from her, sighing loudly as he sprawled across it.
“So why were you really in here?”
Of course, Steve, the pinnacle of manners and patron saint of do-goodery, was wondering why she was in Tony’s office.
Darcy picked at the fuzz on her sweater, huffing a chuckle, “Tony left behind his gift to Pepper, so I was in here getting it for him.” She nudged her chin towards the white and gold-wrapped box on the coffee table. “Well, it was the gift I chose that he was going to give to her because—”
“He’s the worst gift-giver ever, yeah, I know,” Steve finished for her, a knowing grin on his face.
Now she was intrigued, leaning over slightly to get a good look at Steve’s (perfect) face. He seemed a little softer now, less frustrated by the predicament, and Darcy wasn’t sure if it was because of her admission or due to her poking fun at Tony’s expense.
Either way, she’d take it.
“What did he get you?”
Steve looked over from the corner of his eye with a flick of his lips. “He tried to buy back the whole Smithsonian exhibit for me. Not the worst idea, just a little over the top.”
“Oh, that is so on-brand,” Darcy barked a laugh. “Let me guess, he offered to donate a whole new wing?”
“Something like that,” Steve replied with a grin. Darcy internally celebrated at the sight. “I don’t even know what I would have done with everything.”
“Well, he does like his knick-knacks.”
And as if that sparked some latent restlessness in him, Steve rose to his feet, scanning the nearby bookshelves. Darcy watched him pick up a couple of framed photos and trophies painstakingly arranged in aesthetically-pleasing bunches (and likely untouched for years).
“I feel like being a hoarder is in his genes. You should have seen Howard’s place back in the day.”
Feeling curious now, Darcy did the same, taking the opposite side of the room. Her fingertips danced from the shelves over to the bottles displayed on top of an elegant bar cart, spinning them in place to find the labels, eyes darting to the dates.
“How much do you think his cheapest bottle would be in here?” Darcy asked, sniffing an unmarked crystal decanter.
“Definitely more than most people in this tower make in a year,” Steve shot over his shoulder, skimming through an old-looking hardcover. Probably a first edition or something equally ridiculous. “Tony doesn’t half-ass anything.”
“Hah! A curse word,” Darcy said with a point of her finger. “Captain America cursed.”
Steve sighed, deep and loud, as he slotted the book back on the shelf, “Everyone always forgets I was in the army.”
A swing and a miss.
Darcy shrugged, amusement fading as she tried to find something else to entertain herself with. She rifled through the books, wondering just how many were actually read. Pulling them out slightly, she examined each of their spines before flipping through the pages.
She hadn’t noticed Steve watching her from the other end of the room, leaning against the oak desk by the floor-to-ceiling windows. There was a softness in his eyes now, a tiny hint of mischief that coloured his tone.
“The latch is probably in the bookcase on this side, you know. Probably an end book.”
Darcy’s ears perked up at his tip, swivelling around to see if he was serious. He better not be joking about a swinging bookcase. But seeing the look on his face, the one that said he knew more than he was saying, and suddenly she was an excited little school girl again.
“What latch?”
Years of reading Nancy Drew had prepared her for this moment.
“Well, if I was Tony Stark and could afford to build a tower like this, I’d probably still a couple secret rooms in it,” Steve mused, clearly deep in thought. “And I don’t think I’ve ever seen him actually read a hardcover.”
“Now, you’re thinking.”
Darcy swore she could see a twinkle in his eye as Steve slid off the desk, observing the shelf closely as his hands hovered over the seams like he was feeling for something. Air circulation, probably.
Who would have thought Captain America would be an even better snooper than she was?
Well, probably historians. Maybe some college kids. Likely Bucky.
OK, fine. Maybe she hadn’t considered Steve wasn’t the perfect angel the media painted him as. Maybe this was a Darcy Lewis problem and not a Steve problem. And maybe that realization should have been more layered than it was in the moment, but Darcy Lewis wasn’t exactly the queen of self-reflection.
Steve tugged at a couple books until he landed on a red and gold special edition of Sherlock Holmes— at least Stark had a sense of humour. A creak and a gust of air revealed a passage behind the bookcase.
A plush velvet sitting area and a full bar overlooking Manhattan had been sitting just feet away from them the entire time.
“Ta-da!”
Darcy’s mouth hung open at the sight, staring at Steve in awe, a proud smile painted on his face. He was peeking in through the gap between the bookshelves, and before she could stop herself, Darcy was doing the same, wedging herself between Steve and the door to get a better look.
So, this is where Tony disappeared to when he didn’t want to be found— in this little secret slice between his and Pepper’s offices.
“Wow,” Darcy sighed, tentatively standing in the entrance, watching Steve’s reaction from the corner of her eyes. “You see a lot of secret entrances in your time?”
Steve shot her a wink, “Enough.”
By the time Darcy’s eyes left the room and found Steve again, he was staring at her. She suddenly realized her hands were leaning against his back, the heat seemingly shooting straight to her cheeks. The sudden and fleeting thought struck through her like a bolt of shame.
Was she too close?
She bashfully retreated into the room, taking a seat on the loveseat inside to put some distance between them. The thrum against her ribs made it a little hard to breathe, and Darcy was suddenly eager to make small talk to fill the silence. After all, silence was never fun and often led to awkward rambling.
Which was very different from smalltalk rambling, which Darcy, frankly, excelled at.
“So what are you up to during the holidays, anyway?” she asked, leaning into the loveseat as Steve perused the room’s contents.
He tipped his head towards the bar, a silent offering of a glass. And Darcy wasn’t about to turn down a drink poured by Captain America, even if it was only for the novelty.
“Missions, on-call, you know. Crises never stop,” Steve sounded a little sad as he said it.
It didn’t sit well with her, the idea of him sitting at home alone in his apartment on Christmas. And while she hadn’t stopped to think about it before, she did remember Tony mentioning he practically had to twist the super solder’s arm to get him to even consider attending this dinner.
Part of her always wondered why.
And the other part of her could see the way he looked a little older in this light. A little less like a magazine ad. Darcy could see the fine worry lines in his forehead, silvery wisps in his face, the tired lines around his eyes.
She could see those big blues darting between her eyes and mouth.
“Don’t you have some hottie with a body to be kissing under the mistletoe?” Darcy pried, genuinely curious as he handed her a tumbler full of whiskey. “Some hottie with a body hidden just out of view of the media?”
“No, Darcy,” Steve chuckled, giving up the hunt and sinking into the couch— it was a hell of a lot comfier than standing. “No secret Christmas hotties for this fossil.”
“Well, to your credit, you’re the best-preserved fossil I’ve ever seen.”
Steve sputtered into his glass with a huff she couldn’t quite place as laughter or frustration.
“You’re something else.”
Something about being this close to him alone, and out of sight of the team and Stark Industries, made Darcy a little bolder. Curious? No, but maybe nosey. They were going to be trapped in a room together probably until morning —there wasn’t exactly room for conflict or awkwardness— so Darcy furrowed her brow and turned towards him.
“What exactly do you mean by that?”
There was a flash of surprise at her question, a tinge of doubt, but Steve simply smiled, taking a long sip like he was considering his words.
“You always say what you mean, even if it isn’t what people want to hear. It’s a quality not everyone has.”
Darcy snorted, “You mean everyone else has a filter?”
“Something like that,” he seemed to lean in a little closer now. Darcy could smell his aftershave from here, unable to tear her eyes from him. “You know what else?”
She couldn’t help but lean in, “Hm?”
“I’m kind of glad I got stuck in here with you.”
Darcy could feel her heart pounding against her ribs at that one, sure that he’d heard him wrong. There was nothing good in this situation— well, besides at least having two fully-stocked bars.
“I guess it would be better than being stuck in a tight room with Stark,” Darcy replied with a lilt and ready to laugh it off.
But Steve shook his head, “I’m serious.”
Darcy’s head swivelled around to appraise him, wondering if she could sniff out his lie or half-truth, but nothing except those clear blue eyes stared back at her. Devoid of any malicious intent. Curious. Sparkling.
“And why is that?” her throat felt tight at the question.
“I feel like we haven’t had a lot of time to get to know each other.”
She was definitely imagining things now. Must have slipped into a daydream and bonked her head in her bathroom, getting ready for dinner. That was the only explanation at that point.
But still, she had to ask the question.
“You want to get to know me?”
“Yeah, what would you be up to if you weren’t stuck at this dinner— well, now Tony’s office, I guess?”
“Ah,” Darcy struggled to find the words to reply to this somewhat of a sore spot. “Probably would have been at home, with my cat and a nice bottle of wine.”
“No secret hottie at home for you either?”
Darcy practically snorted, “No. Definitely not.”
There was a beat of silence that was anything but awkward, a silent game of chicken between them as they waited for the other to break. It was hard to ignore the air between them, suddenly thick and making her face feel a lot hotter than it should in the middle of winter. Maybe they both had preconceived notions about the other, Darcy realized as his arm stretched across the back of it, fingertips inches from her.
“Know any good games to kill time? Should I break out charades?” she tried not to let the nerves carry into her voice, waiting for him to stop her from a painfully awkward tangent on party games.
Steve traced light circles on her arm, blue eyes bright as he stared at her, “I’m sure we can find something to do to pass the time.”
No sooner had the words left his mouth did Darcy take a risk to close the gap between them before she could overthink it. In an instant, his cheek was in her palm as she kissed him with all the force she had. She almost expected it to be like kissing a brick wall —it was a little forward of her, she’d admit. But Darcy Lewis was pleasantly surprised when Steve’s arm wrapped itself around her waist, pulling her onto his lap as he deepened it.
Melting against him, all thoughts left her brain as she focussed on the feel of him. The peaks and valleys of his chest, the rumble in his throat, the wandering hands that roamed her bare back. Had they really wasted this much time dancing around it?
From here, the spark was enough to ignite them both, as their bodies seemed to slot together in perfect harmony.
Until this exact moment, Darcy would have bet her life on the fact that Steven Grant Rogers was apple pie, all-American and sweet with a side of ice cream. But this Steve, the one who kissed her until the world melted around them, was more like Fourth of July fireworks.
Sure, it was a little cliche, she’d admit.
But god bless America.
A thump sent them both jumping, though Steve managed to catch Darcy before she ended up on the floor. And while it was nice being even closer to him— and something about him manhandling her just felt right— it was a little hard to hear anything but the blood thumping in her ears.
“Jarvis?” Darcy called out warily, eyes glued on the open entrance of the bookshelf door.
“Did I not mention I requested the front desk to send up a janitorial staff member to try to open the door?”
Darcy let out a relieved sigh, “Must have missed that memo, Jay.”
“My sincere apologies.”
Dusting herself off as she stood, Darcy didn’t miss the dopey smile on Steve’s face as she stared at him. Remnants of red lipstick smudged across his face. She was thankful it was just a maintenance man coming to get them— Tony would never let them live this down.
At least this way, they’d have until morning before he’d think to look at the security footage.
“Sometimes I wonder whether JARVIS is more Stark than programming,” Steve muttered, righting his shirt and trying to press out the creases.
“I resent that, Captain Rogers. I have a much more distinguished sense of humour.”
Darcy snorted, “And just as much of a cockblock. You’re right. All Stark.”
Steve flashed his teeth at the joke, planting a kiss in her hair just as a disgruntled staff member yanked open the door.
“Thanks so much!” Darcy gushed, though it erred on the side of forced. “Think we can still make dinner?” she asked Steve as they made their way into the hall, watching the twitch in his lips as he considered the offer.
“Maybe we should eat in instead.”