Chapter Text
It wasn’t super unusual for Darcy to do lunch in S.H.I.E.L.D.’s cafeteria—New York City was basically an oasis of real food options compared to New Mexico, but Jane often just forgot about food when she was working, and even when she remembered it wasn’t easy to convince her to actually leave the building and go get something. Not that Darcy needed somebody to go out with, had no problem being Darcy, Party of One when she felt like it, but it maybe got a bit lonely when it was every day on her own. And daily delivery was a no-go; on day three, Coulson had shown up in the lab with an alarmingly blank expression to ask if he needed to explain the concept of not drawing attention to the facility more clearly.
So the cafeteria it was. Which, actually, wasn’t nearly as bad as she’d have expected a government run cafeteria in a not-entirely-top-secret-but-we-are-not-releasing-a-press-release-thank-you-Tony facility to be. The food was actually pretty good, considering, although she suspected the quality had more to do with the combined dietary needs of Thor, Captain America, and the Hulk (and the serious need not to piss Bruce off with, for instance, rubbery institutional chicken) than anything else.
Of course, if the upside to lunch in the cafeteria was the opportunity to people watch the ridiculously hot secret ninjas in tight leather, the obvious downside was how easy it was for Certain People to find her.
“Hey, kid!” Case in point. Tony’s tray dropped onto the table opposite her own as her father plopped into the hard plastic chair. “Funny running into you here . . .”
Darcy just rolled her eyes. “Yes, you never could have guessed I’d be at lunch during lunchtime. Particularly not when I’ve had lunch here every day for the last week.”
“Purest coincidence,” Tony swore, picking up his fork and beginning to poke at his plate without looking at it, and if he actually ate anything from the cafeteria she was totally going to have to go find Clint and give him ten dollars for losing the hypothetical bet he certainly would have taken had he known the opportunity existed.
“It’s hysterical that you think you’re subtle, Tony.”
“Subtlety is for ninjas. Speaking of which, what’s this I hear about you and Barton?”
“Smooth segue, real smooth.”
“Everything I do is smooth.” And it looked like she was going to lose the non-bet as he stabbed his fork down viciously, but the motion was aborted before the wobbly green bit actually made it into his mouth. Tony looked down as though he’d only just realized what he was about to do and said, “Holy fuck, what is this?”
“Oh, yeah, real smooth. It’s sautéed asparagus in cheese sauce.”
“No, really, what is it?”
“It’s food. Food that was neither prepared by a three-star Michelin chef, nor blended into horrific, unidentifiable, green goo at three a.m. You should try it.” It would absolutely be worth ten dollars to Clint if Tony actually ate it. Plus there would be the completely flummoxed look of disbelief on Clint’s face when she told him why she was giving him money.
“It’s entirely possible putting this in my mouth would kill me.”
“It wouldn’t be the worst thing you’ve ever put in your mouth, I’m sure.”
Whatever ridiculous retort he’d been about to make was cut off by a discrete cough, and Tony and Darcy’s heads both whipped around to see Steve Rogers standing at their table, awkwardly holding a tray. “Ah . . . do you mind if I join you two?”
Tony blinked for a long moment before taking a breath, and Darcy could just tell that whatever he was about to say would somehow be even worse than Captain America overhearing her making blowjob jokes at her father. “Yeah, sure, of course,” she cut in, waving a hand at the chair closest to Steve. “Who in their right mind turns down a chance to have lunch with Captain America, right? Total honor.”
“Er, it’s, ah, just Steve, outside the armor, really, Miss Lewis.”
Darcy wrinkled her nose at that. “Just Darcy, then, please. Seriously, nobody talks like that. It’s adorable, but also deeply weird. Nobody’s called me ‘miss’ since I stopped working retail.” Oh God, Tony’s word vomit was genetic.
Steve smiled at that, setting his tray down and holding out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to properly meet you at last, Darcy.”
Darcy couldn’t really help grinning as she reached out to shake Captain America’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you, too, Steve.”
The sudden scrape of Tony’s chair as he stood up kind of ruined the moment, and Darcy just sort of blinked at him as he flashed Steve what she considered his Smarm Smile Mark Five: the This Is Fascinating, Really, Too Bad I Just Can’t Stay smile. “Sorry to not-eat and run, Darce, but I don’t think I can risk death by sautéed asparagus today—too much shit to do to end up hospitalized by my lunch. But you two enjoy. I’ve got meetings over at S.I. Pep’ll end me if I’m late, you know how it is, and, yeah, not a good day to die. Later, kiddo.” He was already walking away before he’d even finished his excuses, his tray left abandoned on the table, food untouched.
Steve stared after him for a brief moment before switching his attention back to Darcy. “I’m sorry,” he said, “I really didn’t mean to intrude.”
Darcy just shrugged and waved him towards the chair once more. “Eh, no worries. That was stranger than usual for him, but not by much. Seriously, sit, eat,” she insisted as he hesitated. “You chased away my dad before I became tempted to commit patricide, I clearly owe you cookies, and you owe me a replacement lunch companion.”
If anything, Steve looked more awkward at this, but he did sit down, at least, which seemed to be a signal to the half dozen S.H.I.E.L.D. agents in the cafeteria who’d been watching that the show was now over.
“So,” she said, as he picked up his fork, “you missed the last half century. Just how likely is it that Coulson will shoot me if I unload my political science degree and women’s studies minor on you for shock value? Because I am really tempted.”
Steve actually smiled at that, a little. “They’ve given me a pretty thorough grounding to catch me up,” he said. “Doubt you can shock me that much anymore.”
Darcy scoffed. “Sure, right, like you can take the jackbooted thugs at face value. Bet it’s been all party line, like the first Gulf War was totally about protecting Kuwait and we haven’t ratified CEDAW because it’s unnecessary in light of our fabulous domestic women’s rights record.”
Steve’s eyes narrowed slightly at her as he clearly thought about what she‘d said, but he politely finished chewing, swallowing, and even took a small sip of his water before saying, “You know, if you want to put that degree to good use by giving me a bit more information than the ‘party line’, I promise not to tell Coulson.”
Huh. Right. Captain America, master tactician. This was going to be fun.