Chapter Text
Darcy doesn’t like blind dates. Hates them, in fact. She’s pretty sure that she’s not alone in thinking blind dates are Satan’s way of dating. Actually, it’s just like that one quote about socialism her economics professor was fond of reciting: “workable only in heaven, where they don’t need it, and in hell, where they have it.”
And yet somehow, here she is. On a blind date. But really, Natasha seems to take a certain satisfaction in matchmaking, and Darcy may not be scared of her favorite spysassin, but– actually, she may somehow be best friends with the spysassin. (Seriously, what is her life?) And that would be how she ended up here: not a lot makes Natasha happy. So if matchmaking does, then Darcy will let Nat matchmake her to her heart’s content.
Or maybe that should be Darcy’s heart’s content.
Whichever it is, it is actually probably a better hookup system than Darcy could come up with. After all, the candidates Natasha chooses are more thoroughly vetted than the director of the FBI. Or SHIELD. Or the CIA– you get the idea.
Darcy walks through the door of what’s actually a pretty nice restaurant (damn, her date better be paying; she may be a feminist, but she is currently a broke college graduate one who is not above taking advantage of traditional gender roles for a night) and gives her name to the maitre d’, who motions for someone to lead her to a table in the back, and–
Oh hell no.
Steven Fucking Rogers?!
Natasha, how the fuck did this seem like a good idea?!
*****
Darcy does not actually hate Steve Rogers, but he is definitely not one of her favorite people. She used to have a bit of a crush on him, in fact. Then she got to know him, and it turns out that while Captain America is great (truth, justice, and the American way, saving the world, and all that), Steve Rogers is kind of an asshole. And that isn't because she can't handle an unrequited crush (did you mean: her entire high school experience?), but he’s just flat-out a douchebag to her. And Darcy doesn't tend to like people who don't like her. She's petty like that.
Seriously, though, all she did was ask him about his favorite foods growing up one time, and he's looked at her like she's gum on the bottom of his shoe ever since.
Darcy really hasn’t forgiven him for eating her cooking just fine until he found out who it was that was cooking and he totally stopped. That was definitely personal. She would like to say that she forgives grudges like insults against her cooking easily, but, well, liars go to hell, and personally, she plans on going to hell for something a lot more fun than lying. And then every time since then that she ever tried to be nice, he acted like there was something seriously wrong with her. So, no, she’s not particularly fond of Steven Grant Rogers and suffering through a blind date with him sounds like hell, thanks, Natasha.
She stands behind Steve's chair for a while, wondering if it'd be better to leave now and let him think he got stood up (and she'd have to face upset Natasha, ooh) or sit down and endure the totally painful awkward dinner that must lie ahead. Her decision is made for her when Steve turns around and sees her standing there.
Super-solider hearing? ...Probably. Dammit.
*****
Steve rubs the back of his neck. Why did he agree to this thing again? Darcy would probably claim it was Natasha and Bucky’s super secret spysassin powers. He grudgingly admits to himself that she wouldn't be totally wrong. Natasha’s been trying to set him up with someone she assures him he’ll really like for ages, and Bucky knows damn well he just has to give Steve a Look and he’ll cave. (Bucky totally and completely takes advantage of that.)
It really hasn’t been that long since he got here, but his date must be running a little bit late because it's 7:05 and they'd been supposed to meet at 7:00. Steve hears someone behind him walking with the click of high heels and that must be her. But the sounds stop and she's been standing behind him for at least half a minute, so he turns around to see if something’s wrong– and that’s Darcy Lewis. Natasha and Bucky set him up with Darcy Lewis? What the hell?
Steve cannot comprehend why on earth this seemed like a good idea. Sure, she’s probably one of the most gorgeous dames Steve has ever seen (especially right now, with her hair curled and tumbling down her back and the bare skin of her shoulders, the red dress she’s wearing perfectly matching her lipstick and contrasting against her creamy pale skin and she looks like a pinup girl, a fucking wet dream), but she gets on every last nerve he has, which Bucky and Natasha both know perfectly well.
He really can’t explain why she annoys him so much. She’s pretty and has a sense of humor and a mouth that reminds him of the girls in his neighborhood that weren’t “respectable,” not that he put much store by that, but she’s genuine and kind in a way that he just doesn’t understand. Maybe that’s it. He doesn’t understand her. She doesn’t make sense to him. And Steve Rogers does not like things that don't make sense.
Still, Darcy is here and they're supposed to be on a date and so Steve will be a gentleman. He stands up and pulls her chair out for her. She sits down sort of awkwardly. “Miss Lewis,” he greets her curtly.
“Captain Rogers,” she says quietly, nodding at him.
*****
Darcy can feel something tightening in her gut as they make awkward small talk and there's a sense of panic there that threatens to take her over. She digs her nails into the heels of her palms and breathes. She’s really not sure what he’s saying. Perfectly honestly, she hasn’t really been able to pay attention; she’s been way too busy freaking out. Darcy cuts into whatever he was saying and bluntly states, “Look, I know you don’t really want to be here right now.” It looks like Steve will protest politely before she points at him and says, “And don’t do that thing where you’re trying to be nice so you say stuff you don’t really mean. I hate it when people do that.” He closes his mouth with an almost audible snap. She continues, not waiting for any apology he might attempt. “So our asshole mutual friends set us up on a date. I swear, when did my life turn into a tumblr story?” He looks at her quizzically. “Never mind, that’s not important. The point is, I think I’ve got an idea to get back at them.”
Steve leans forward. “Well, enlighten me. You know I’m all about the plans.”
Darcy jabs her finger at him. “The sarcasm is not appreciated, Captain Rogers. Now, are you in it for petty revenge, or do you want to prove again that you’re above all the rest of us mere mortals?”
“Hey,” Steve narrows his eyes at her. “I'm not–”
Darcy waves her hand. “Yeah, yeah, you're just a man, not a hero, just a boy who had to sing this song–”
“What?”
“– or whatever,” Darcy finishes. (Hey, her little sister had gone through a serious My Chemical Romance phase. She could quote “Welcome to the Black Parade” backwards in her sleep.) “Petty revenge. Pranking our friends. Are you in or are you out?”
Steve smirks, looks at her with a glint of mischief in his eyes, and she can finally see how someone would say he has a sense of humor. “What's the plan?”
She leans closer to him. “Alright, so this whole thing,” she waves her hand in the air, presumably to encapsulate ‘this whole thing’, “started because Nat and Bucky think we need to date people and they think they know who to set us up with.”
“And?” Steve raises his eyebrow. “We're going to get them to stop matchmaking us how?”
Darcy rolls her eyes. “Don't interrupt, Captain Tightass. We’re going to fake date,” she informs him. He gives her a look that screams skepticism and incredulity. “Look,” she explains, “if we’re fake dating, they can’t set us up with anyone else, right?”
She waits until he reluctantly nods before she continues.
“And then we have a massive, terrible, emotional breakup, like, right in front of their faces in a couple months, and they won’t want to set us up with anyone for a while.”
Steve rolls his eyes. Like that could work. ...Actually... “Actually, that might work,” he says slowly.
Darcy’s face splits into a wide grin. She can’t help it, really. Come on, Captain America said she has a good plan! ...Hold on.
“Does this mean you think I have a good plan?” she cooes.
His face tightens and he doesn’t respond.
“Come on, Steve, say I have a good plan. Say it. Say it, Steve.” She reaches across the table and pokes his arm.
She’s acting like such a child and probably he should be irritated or something by her behavior but her smile is infectious and so he mimes zipping his lips shut before (only a little bit reluctantly) smiling back at her.
“Come on, Steve, say it. I have a good plan. Say it. Say it. Say it. God, just say it!”
*****
In a move that surprises absolutely no one, Natasha is waiting at Darcy’s apartment when she gets back from the dinner that turned out to be a helluva lot less awkward, once Steve finally admitted she had a good plan. She’s actually smiling as she walks through the door and drops her purse heavily by the door.
“You had fun on your date,” Natasha states.
Darcy groans loudly as she moves back to her room and throws her heels at the closet wall. “Seriously, Nat, you’ve got to stop doing this!”
Natasha raises her eyebrow. Darcy can’t see it, but she is sure that Natasha raises her eyebrow. “Haven’t you learned to expect it by now?” she says, sounding almost bored.
Darcy emerges from her room into the living room solely so she can point a finger at Nat and be certain she saw it. “That is so not the point.” Nat rolls her eyes as Darcy continues. “The point is that it’s not nice to just break into someone’s room without their permission.”
Natasha’s face is very expressive, and right now, it is totally saying, “Really? I’m pretty sure that being friends with me is basically an understanding that this sort of stuff will happen.”
“Oh, never mind,” Darcy huffs. She moves into the kitchen to make Nat a cup of coffee (black like her soul) and herself a cup of tea. Natasha follows her and sits down at the table.
Darcy sits down with their drinks and silently passes Nat her coffee. Natasha’s face splits into a grin– or well, as close to a grin as Natasha ever gets– and she asks, “But really, how was it?”
“Girl talk?!” Darcy squeals. She bounces up and down in her seat exuberantly, then abruptly stops and jabs a finger at Natasha. “Hey. Just because I'm excited for girl talk does not mean that setting me up with Steven Grant Rogers, aka Captain You-Bet-Your-Sweet-Ass America, was okay. It is so not. I'm just always a slut for girl talk. And the mandatory ice cream that must necessarily accompany said girl talk.”
Natasha smiles fondly. “Chunky Monkey?”
Darcy drops her accusing finger and grins back at her. “You bet your sweet ass.”
They are seated in Darcy’s living room while Taylor Swift plays in the background (rule number two of girl talk, right after the ice cream: Tay Tay is the only acceptable music for girl talk) and Natasha waits until this song about castles and daydreams has struck its last chord before innocently asking, “But you had a good time on your date, didn’t you?”
Darcy bites her lip and sulkily admits, “It wasn’t as terrible as I thought it would be. I guess.”
Natasha raises an eyebrow. “Such glowing praise.”
“Hey, I thought it would be something similar to, I don't know, swimming in man-eating shark-infested waters. No, actually that might be a little harsh. On the sharks. The tenth circle of hell?” She thinks for a second before deciding, “Nah, the eleventh. That sounds about right.”
“It sounds like there really wasn't anywhere to go but up,” Natasha says dryly.
Darcy scoffs. “Oh, believe me, there really, really wasn't.”
“Okay, okay,” Nat rolls her eyes. “I get it. Setting you up with Steve. Not cool. You thought it would be literal hell. But you have to give me some details!” She grabs Darcy's hand.
“Fine, fine,” Darcy laughs. She casts her mind around, looking for something to say. This is where their plan starts.
Natasha has to think they really like each other. Natasha will also see through any of Darcy's poor attempts at lying (Darcy maintains that lying is a terrible reason to go to hell) much too easily for it to be an actual option. The best thing to do here is carefully phrase everything so that it isn't lying, and if Natasha suspects she's keeping something back, she'll put it down to Darcy’s stubborn nature and not wanting to admit she likes Steve as much as she does. Hypothetically, of course. She does not like Steve. “Um, he actually has a sense of humor? I didn't really know that. But he's funny,” she says thoughtfully. Darcy steals a glance at Natasha. Oh yeah, she's totally buying it.
“So what did you guys talk about?” Natasha asks eagerly.
Darcy waves her hand. “Well, it was a little awkward at first... Then I made him admit that it was hella awkward and it got... less... awkward... Is that irony? That's irony, right?” she wonders.
Nat rolls her eyes. “Yes, that's irony. Now tell me what you talked about!” she demands.
“Okay, okay, fine! I don't know... I mean, it sort of blurred together. I can't really tell you any specific lines or anything. I think we talked about work, maybe? I asked him about Tolkien, and he talked about that for a while. He was excited that The Hobbit was still something people liked and he said it felt familiar,” Darcy allows a half-smile to grace her lips at that. It had honestly been pretty damn adorable. “He agreed that The Lord of The Rings movies were better than The Hobbit movies, though, as he should, because only a heathen would think otherwise, and that there should’ve been more female characters, because damn straight.”
“Did he kiss you?”
“No!” Darcy exclaims a little too quickly, and she hurriedly tries to draw attention away from it. “Gosh, Natasha, it was only the first date,” she laughs nervously. “Would his old-timey, forties sensibilities even let him do something like that?”
Natasha hmms, a knowing glint in her eyes. “You know he's not a virgin, right?”
“Oh my God, Nat!” Darcy pulls away from Natasha like she’s been scalded. “What the fuck?!”
“I just thought it might be good information to have, for, oh, three weeks from now.” Natasha shrugs her shoulders and looks at Darcy innocently.
“How the hell do you know he’s not a virgin?” Darcy demands. Natasha opens her mouth like she’s going to respond before Darcy quickly says, “No, no, no, no, no! Do not answer that question. I do not want to know.”
Natasha just smirks as Darcy’s face gets redder and redder. “You’re thinking about it now, aren’t you?” she asks smugly.
Darcy points her spoon at Natasha. “Nope. Not at all.”
Natasha looks pointedly at Darcy’s flushed cheeks and heaving chest.
“Shut your face!” Darcy yelps. “But really,” she says, “he was on tour with all those girls for, like, a year, right? I don’t know who I’d be more disappointed in if he was a virgin, honestly, him or them.”
“So do you two have another date planned?” Natasha moves on.
“Noooo...” Darcy trails off.
“But?” Natasha prompts.
Darcy looks at the ceiling and smiles. “His number may be in my phone.”
“And...?”
She bites her lip before admitting, “And I may have already texted him.”
*****
In a move that is eerily similar to Natasha’s (and probably planned out beforehand, let's be real), Bucky is also waiting when Steve gets home, leaning casually against the kitchen counter. It does break slightly less boundaries, though, as Steve and Bucky share their apartment in the tower. Yes, Bucky spends a lot of his nights at Natasha or Sam’s place, but that is beside the point– they are still technically sharing. Steve walks through the door, takes one look at Bucky’s shit-eating grin, and heaves a long-suffering sigh.
“How was the date, punk?”
Steve pinches the bridge of his nose. “Really, Buck?”
Bucky punches his shoulder, grabs two beers from the fridge, and plops down on the couch. “You know it. Now c’mon, how was the date?”
Steve takes the beer Bucky offers him and sits down next to him. “Jerk,” he mutters.
“You know,” Bucky takes a swig of his drink, “that doesn’t sound a lot like you telling me about your date, which is what I remember asking about. Funny.”
Steve rolls his eyes. “Seriously? You’re worse than Natasha. Gossiping like a pair of old women, the two of you.”
“Hey.” Bucky points a finger at him in a move that feels reminiscent of something Darcy has done. “I don’t appreciate your gender roles.”
Steve rolls his eyes again. “I’m glad Darcy has gotten you so invested in the feminist movement.”
Bucky scoffs. “If you think it was just Darcy, then I think I’m finally convinced that serum dumbed you down, punk. Natasha would have my head if I were anything else. So would Pepper. I can think of a hundred people that would take us both out if we weren’t ‘so invested in the feminist movement’, not to mention it’s a damned good movement and we don’t need the incentive, which you know perfectly fucking well. And don’t try to change the subject. I’m not gonna ask you to answer my question again.”
“And what are you gonna do if I don’t answer?”
“Easy.” Bucky grins. “I’ll just call Darcy and ask her.”
Steve pales the tiniest bit. What would Darcy say? He isn’t really sure he wants to know. “Alright, fine. It was good.”
Steve isn’t exactly sure what’s going on with Bucky, Sam, and Natasha. He is pretty sure that he is never going to ask, because he doesn’t really think he wants all the information that that conversation would likely give him. He does know that whatever they are doing must have terrifying implications if it means that Bucky can now give him Natasha-esque Looks. Right now, this look says, “You’re holding out on me and you will stop that and give me the information I want or there is pain in your future,” quite clearly.
“Okay, okay,” he sighs. “I had a nice time and I think she did too. It started off a little awkward, but it got better. We talked a little bit about Tolkien and the books versus the movies. We exchanged numbers.” And hopefully, that’ll be enough to get Bucky off his back.
“Did you kiss her?” Bucky asks with a knowing glint in his eye.
“No!” Steve yelps. “Bucky! It was only the first date!”
Bucky scoffs. “Well, it ain’t like you’re a blushing virgin.”
“I still don’t really think it’s okay to kiss a girl on the first date.” Steve rubs his eyes.
“It’s the twenty-first century, punk. Hell, when me and–”
“Nope, no thanks,” Steve shudders. “I really don't want to hear anything about what you, Sam, and Natasha may or may not have done.”
Bucky shrugs, mischief plain in his expression. “Your loss. I could probably give you some pointers.”
“Yeah, okay, well, when I want those mental scars, I'll let you know.”