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Steve knew three things from the words on his Soulmark:
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He would probably meet her at Christmas time.
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There was a pretty good chance she liked comic books.
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She would be happy he was her Soulmate.
Darcy didn’t have many Christmas traditions, but the ones she did have, she followed religiously. They helped her to hang on to the magic of Christmas, even after learning the truth of the Claus Conspiracy.
She always bought an advent calendar.
She always decorated. And when she said she decorated, she meant that her apartment looked like Christmas had exploded inside.
She always baked—and distributed—sugar cookies, cut into Christmas-themed shapes and decorated with festive frosting.
And she always, always, wrote a letter to Santa.
That was what she’d been trying to do all evening.
She’d tried typing it up on her computer. She’d tried writing it by hand. She’d tried writing in the lab, in various rooms in her apartment, in various rooms in Jane’s apartment, and finally in the Avenger’s “family room.”
It wasn't used as often as most of the other common areas, but it had a ridiculously comfy couch, a fireplace, and a huge Christmas tree (which she had decorated herself). It should have been the perfect place to write her letter.
Unfortunately, she’d gotten as far as “Dear Santa” and had been unable to think of anything except the thing she’d been trying not to think about since she’d gone home for Thanksgiving. Because if she thought about it, it wouldn’t be thinking; it would be brooding.
Darcy had reached That Age.
She had reached the age when relatives started wondering aloud why she wasn’t married yet, why she hadn’t met her Soulmate (and was she sure she hadn’t met them without realizing it?), and why she was making life choices they disagreed with. She was at the age when almost all of her high school and college friends had met their Soulmates and were filling her Facebook page with their engagement announcements or pregnancy/baby pictures.
She had reached the age of the Perpetual Third Wheel.
And she’d never noticed how couple-y Christmas could be until she reached it.
With a growl, she scribbled, “I just want my stupid Soulmate to show up already, so send him ASAP, please and thank you.” She threw the pen on the table, then laid down on the couch, turned her back to the offensive letter, and pulled a pillow over her head.
Before long, she had drifted off to sleep.
Steve was headed to bed when he noticed that there was light coming from the family room. It wasn’t a lot of light, just the tree and maybe the fireplace, but JARVIS usually turned those off after 10:00 if no one was in there.
He walked into the apparently-empty room. When he rounded the end of the couch, he found a young woman spread out on it, fast asleep. He had to smile a little. She was not the most… graceful sleeper. She was snoring a little, and drooling, but it was… kind of cute.
He looked away from the sleeping woman, and his attention was drawn to a piece of paper on the coffee table. He glanced at it and started to look away before doing a double-take. He snatched up the paper, looked at it closely, just to be sure… Yes.
He knew that writing.
He turned and studied the woman more carefully.
After a moment’s deliberation, he reached out a hand and shook her awake. She blinked at him blearily for a moment, then reached for a pair of glasses, which she pushed onto her face.
He held up the letter and smiled. “Sorry I kept you waiting so long.”
Her eyes went huge behind her glasses. “Holy Santa Claus, Batman, I must have been good this year!”
His smile widened. “I don’t know, I think you must have been at least a little bit naughty, to get stuck with me.”
She smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know…”
He raised an eyebrow, then gestured to the corner of his own mouth. “You were drooling in your sleep.”
She blushed and quickly wiped at her mouth. “Well, that’s embarrassing.”
He shook his head. “Everyone has weird sleeping habits.”
“Speaking from experience?”
He rolled his eyes. “I was in the army. We slept in barracks. I’ve seen droolers and snorers, sleeptalkers and sleepwalkers…” He smiled. “One time we got two of the sleeptalkers to talk to each other in their sleep.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. And about halfway through, one of them started speaking Spanish.”
“...and the other one?”
“He responded in French.”
She snorted. “No way.”
“It’s true!”
She shook her head, but she was smiling at him, so that was all right.
She had a gorgeous smile, and he was planning on seeing a lot of it.