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You come to, roused by what you think at first is the rhythmic pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. An agonising headache throbs in time with the sound. You breathe through it, slowly becoming aware of your surroundings; the tangy scent of brine, a gentle breeze and, more alarmingly, an abrasive coil of what feels like rope around your wrists.
Your eyes snap open and you bite back a curse as your headache spikes, but you force yourself to look around. The darkness is almost, but not quite, complete thanks to the barest sliver of a moon. You can make out rows of pillars, one of which you’ve been tied to. It’s weathered smooth against your back and arms. And as you focus your gaze further ahead, you see the frothy peaks of incoming waves. It’s then you realise with a sinking feeling in your gut that you’ve been tied to the underside of a beach house. And the tide’s coming in. Fast.
You fight against your bindings, but they’re expertly knotted, and all you manage is to rub your skin raw. The next wave nearly reaches your feet. Feet that you suddenly realise are bare. You wonder inanely what happened to your fancy evening shoes – the ones you’d bought especially for tonight’s undercover mission, to match the gown that had been collecting dust in your closet. And that’s when it hits you.
Where’s Chief Sousa?
A groan to your right answers your question. You spot the dim glimmer of his smart ivory dinner jacket in the gloom – the jacket that, along with his entire formal ensemble, nearly made you swoon when you first saw it, him, earlier. But you hid your reaction well, as you always do.
“Chief?”
The ocean now pushes and pulls at your ankles, drenching the lovely metallic fabric of your gown’s long skirt. You shiver, both at the water’s chill and your rising panic.
“Chief!”
“Huh? Wha--?” Daniel straightens against the next pillar over, blinking rapidly. His dark eyes find you, widening as they descend to the frothing water that’s inching up your calves. Then he starts to struggle against his own restraints. “Damnit!”
“Unless you’ve got something sharp up your sleeve, the rope’s not gonna give,” you say, sounding far calmer than you feel.
Daniel’s shoulders slump in defeat. “I guess this is the part where you tell me ‘I told you so’.”
You give a bleak smile, recalling the evening’s events. While Daniel had been convinced that Lewis Greyson: shipping tycoon and egotistical asshole, was the mastermind behind the trafficking of dangerous Stark tech knock-offs, you’d suspected the operation was actually his wife Katrina’s pet project. Turns out you were right.
Posing as a high society couple, you and Daniel had gained access to the Greysons’ sprawling clifftop mansion during one of their infamous house parties. A search of Mr Greyson’s study while he and his wife were otherwise occupied playing hosts turned up nothing. Not one to give up easily, you suggested an inspection of Mrs Greyson’s rooms. It wasn’t long before you found Katrina’s diary, full of shipment times and meetings with buyers.
Meanwhile, Katrina had somehow caught wind of a pair of errant guests wandering the house. She and a couple of her henchmen – dock workers by the looks of them, and based on their knotting skills (you tug half-heartedly at your bindings) – had burst in on you and Daniel. Though not before you’d managed to tear a page from the diary and shove it into your bra.
What came next was a bit of a jumble. You remember reaching for your garter holster, barely getting a grip on your pistol before a pair of beefy, callused hands caught your arms. Naturally, you gave your captor hell, even managing to shoot him in the foot, but there was no getting out of his vice-like hold. Before long there was a flash of pain, then darkness…
You’re pulled back to the present by a particularly forceful wave. The fabric of your dress shimmers as the skirt swirls around your thighs. You frown down at it, thinking hard. You know the beach house is part of the Greysons’ estate. The long stretch of beach where it sits is private. If you yell for help, no-one will come.
You heave a helpless sigh, leaning your head against the pillar at your back. You glance across at Daniel who’s struggling once more against his restraints. The sight makes your heart ache and a burning lump form in your throat.
“I’m sorry,” you say croakily.
Daniel freezes, looking at you with a puzzled frown. “Sorry for what?”
“If I hadn’t insisted we check Katrina’s rooms, or if I’d been more alert--”
“Hey, no,” interrupts Daniel, expression softening. “If this is anyone’s fault, it’s mine.”
“But--”
“No.” He shakes his head firmly then mirrors your stance, head back against the pillar and tipped towards you, his face resigned and sad. “I should have done a better job of protecting you. And before you tell me how you can take care of yourself, I know that, sure, but it doesn’t stop me wanting to…” He trails off and you faintly make out a darkening in his cheeks. He’s blushing, and you know from memory that even the tips of his ears have turned pink. You smile fondly even as you feel the warning sting of oncoming tears.
“Daniel,” you murmur. It’s the first time you’ve called him by his first name. His eyes briefly widen in surprise, then he looks at you in a way that makes your stomach flutter.
“I should have told you sooner,” you continue. “I think you’re pretty wonderful.”
Daniel smiles, a crooked little thing tinged with sadness. “I think you’re pretty wonderful too.”
“About damn time!”
You startle at the new voice, turning as best you can to find Howard Stark striding towards you from the cover of some nearby boulders. He looks both exasperated and delighted, muttering about ruining his Italian shoes as he begins wading through the water.
Daniel’s the first to recover. “Stark? What-? How-? How long have you been here?”
“Well, let’s see.” He reaches you first. Having drawn a penknife from his pocket, he starts sawing at your bindings. “I happened to see Tweedledum and Tweedledee carrying you down here from the guest room balcony.” He sighs dramatically, and you can easily imagine why he’d been loitering on said balcony, even without the smudge of lipstick on his collar as a clue. It certainly explains how you hadn’t even known he was at the party. “So, of course, I had to follow.”
“And you didn’t save us before now because?” you say, rubbing at your tender wrists as the rope finally comes loose.
“Because everyone’s sick of the two of you keeping your feelings for each other to yourselves.” Howard splashes over to Daniel. “And what better way to get people to share their true feelings than with a near death experience.”
“It’s official. You’re insane,” says Daniel with no real heat. He takes a moment to rub the blood circulation back into his hands before extending one towards you. You take it, feeling warmth bloom in your chest as his fingers wrap around your own. You move to grip his bicep with your free hand, helping him navigate the water and shifting sand without his cane.
“You’re welcome,” quips Howard. “So what’s say we get out of here? Jarvis is parked just behind those trees.”
He strides off ahead, leaving you and Daniel in semi-privacy. You feel suddenly very shy and uncertain now that the threat of imminent drowning is gone.
“I meant what I said,” you tell Daniel quietly, not quite able to meet his eyes. “I’ve thought it for a long while.”
“Ditto,” he replies with a squeeze of your hand. “And I was hoping…”
You venture a look at him from beneath your lashes. He looks adorably bashful.
“Yes?” you prompt.
“Will you, maybe, go out to dinner with me sometime?”
You smile, hug his arm tighter and lean your cheek against his shoulder. “I thought you’d never ask.”