Work Text:
Darcy was only too eager to get out of the cold and curl up in front of the fire. The journey from New York to the middle of nowhere Iowa had been both long and full of yelling as she battled idiots on the road. “Mom, dad…your loving, wonderful daughter is home.” She pushed open the front door and, dragging a large suitcase full of presents behind her, headed in the direction of the kitchen, led by the intoxicating smell of fresh-ground coffee and her mom’s brisket baking in the oven.
“Darcy, you should’ve called, I’d have picked you up from the airport,” her dad pulled her into a hug, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
“I drove all the way. It wasn’t too bad at all, though there are some real idiots on the road at this time of year.” She parked her case under the counter and then took a seat, pulling the steaming coffee pot closer and pouring herself a cup. “That’s better!” she sighed after taking a large sip of the aromatic brew. “I could probably make a killing if I opened a decent drive-thru coffee place on the I-80.”
“Don’t you even think about it,” Helen Lewis told her, waving a wooden spoon in her face. “You’re going to stay right where you are and keep on working for that lovely Ms Potts.”
“You really think I’d be so stupid, I know which side my bread’s buttered, mom.” Darcy took another sip of her coffee and then almost dropped the cup on the breakfast bar when the doorbell rang. “Shit, I forgot Steve!”
She missed the look her parents exchanged as she jumped off the stool and ran down the hall and pulled open the front door. “Oh my God, I can’t believe I left you out there. I’m going to blame coffee. D’you want one?” She grabbed the sleeve of his jacket and pulled him into the house, then started to pat the snow from his chest as she muttered a series of apologies all connected to the fact that her mom’s coffee had called her all the way from the front door and that was apparently the excuse she was going to stick to.
“It’s okay, snow isn’t my Kryptonite or anything,” he shrugged off the jacket and, after shaking off a little more of the light snow that had crusted on the shoulders, hung it up with the other coats. “You didn’t even notice I wasn’t there did you?” He chuckled when she had the grace to blush a little, looking down at her feet.
“In my defence, the coffee is really good, and we haven’t had a decent cup since we left the Tower yesterday afternoon.”
“You’re lucky I don’t feel the cold, or by now I’d be an icicle, all thanks to your caffeine addiction.” He grabbed her hand and linked their fingers as she pulled him along the hallway and into the kitchen.
“Yeah, yeah,” she told him. “Tell someone who’ll play the itty bitty violin for you.”
The moment Steve entered the kitchen he could feel all the attention on him. At the stove stood a woman who couldn’t be anyone BUT Darcy’s mother, though the older woman was a little taller than her daughter, Darcy was essentially her clone, from the curls on her head to the tiny slipper-shod feet, though her intense blue eyes, those she’d inherited from her father, who was studying him in a way that made him feel a little as though he were under serious scrutiny. “Mr Lewis, Mrs Lewis, it’s very nice of you to invite me to share the holiday season with you.” He leant across the counter and shook both their hands, a friendly smile on his lips.
“Uh, surprise…” Darcy told the room at large, ignoring Steve’s look of horror as he realised that the family at large hadn’t been apprised of Darcy’s plus one to their Hanukkah celebrations. “Steve didn’t have anywhere to go and you always say that no one should spend the holidays alone.”
Steve opened his mouth to mention that he’d actually had invitations from Tony, Sam and Clint to spend the holidays with them, but Darcy had been so insistent that he visit her family and enjoy a traditional Hanukkah he’d been unable to find it in himself to turn her down. It helped greatly that she was fun to be around and he was more than just a little bit in love with her.
“Steve, was it?” Malachi Lewis stood up and Steve was a little taken aback when he actually had to look up to Darcy’s father.
“Yes, sir. Steve Rogers.” He realised that now was not the time to say anything more than that. “It’s nice to meet you. Darcy talks about you a lot.”
Malachi chuckled, looking over Steve’s shoulder at his daughter, who appeared to be intently studying the kitchen flooring. “Yes, she does tend to do that. Though, being honest, she talks a lot, in general!”
Steve wasn’t sure whether he should agree with that or not, but he was unable to stifle the quiet laugh, one that grew louder when Darcy stepped forward and slapped him on the forearm, “Hey!” she exclaimed, her tone indignant. “I’m not that bad.”
“Of course you aren’t, sweetheart,” Helen told her. “Mal, don’t tease her, you know how easily her delicate feelings are bruised.”
“Delicate feelings, my foot,” Mal muttered, loud enough that Steve heard, but likely not loud enough to carry across the kitchen. “She’s about as delicate as a barracuda.”
“You’re telling me,” Steve replied, “I thought that she was going to take the head off the poor guy at the last service stop when he told her they’d run out of coffee.”
“One thing everyone that passes through these doors has to learn is that you never get between a Lewis woman and her coffee. Doesn’t matter whether you think it’s too late, or too early, coffee flows through their veins and the last person to get in their way nearly lost a finger.” He held up his right hand and showed Steve his forefinger, though he’d actually only lost half and it was a wood carving accident, not a coffee incident, which had been the cause.
“I’ll definitely remember that. Wouldn’t want to lose a limb.” Steve reached over for Darcy’s cup and took a sip, reluctantly swallowing the strong, unsweetened brew before putting the cup back down and making one of his own, making sure to add several heaped spoons of sugar to it before taking an experimental mouthful.
“I really envy you,” Darcy told him when she sat down on one of the stools and started to pick at a warm Sufganiyot her mom had just removed from the fryer. “All that sugar and not a single ounce of fat on you anywhere.” She told him, her tone just a tad annoyed.
“Maybe if you’d follow Nat’s recommendations you could eat and drink everything you want,” he told her sotto voce, grinning when she glared at him before stuffing another piece of the sugar-coated goodness in her mouth.
“For that, I’m not sharing these Sufganiyot with you, they’re all mine,” she told him, pulling the full plate towards her and wrapping her arms around it, ignoring the fact that she was getting the sticky sugar-coating all over her hair.
“I’m sure I can persuade you to share,” he whispered against the curve of her neck, sneaking his hand through the protective barrier she had attempted to make with her arms and taking a couple of the jam-filled doughnuts, stuffing one in his mouth before she could snatch them back, and grinning at her rather smugly. “Mmm, delicious.” He made a show of licking his fingers before picking up the second delicacy and tearing off a piece and eating it more slowly, savouring the light dough and slightly tangy jam centre.
“I’m glad to see you’ve got a healthy appetite, Steve,” Helen told him as she carried another plate of sweet treats, this time a chocolate Babka, to the table. “We always make enough to feed a small army.”
Darcy didn’t bother to hide her mouth when she started to laugh, spewing out, unfortunately, a large unchewed bite of her latest Sufganiyot. “Darcy, you can just clean that up right now,” her father told her, looking at Steve and rolling his eyes as if to say ‘See, this is the sort of thing I have to put up with!’
“Sorry,” Darcy told the table at large as she fought the urge to blush, and hopped down from the stool to get a piece of kitchen roll and clean up her mess. “Well, that was embarrassing.”
Mess cleaned up, Darcy grabbed her suitcase and pulled it out from underneath the counter, figuring that she needed to get a few things done before sundown. “Mom, should I put Steve in Jake’s old room?”
“I don’t want to be any trouble,” Steve interjected, he’d be perfectly happy in a sleeping bag on the floor.
“Nonsense, Steve. You’re not any trouble at all. Is there any reason why he can’t share your room, Darcy Lou?”
Feeling her face go redder than it had at any point over the last few hours, Darcy studied her hands as she tried to figure out why her parents had to torment her quite so much. “Mom! It’s not like that!”
Helen, enjoying the fact that she’d, yet again, managed to embarrass her daughter, walked over and whispered, “why ever not? I don’t know many who’d turn that down.”
Wondering if it was actually possible to die from embarrassment while, at the same time, wishing a hole would open up in the ground beneath her feet, Darcy sucked in a deep breath and found some of that courage she was always telling everyone she had in spades. “Okay. Steve, we can pick up your bag on the way up, I’m in the attic.”
Saying it was an attic was actually an insult, her room was anything but attic-like; beams ran along the length of the room which was tall enough that even her dad, at 6ft 5ins, didn’t have a problem standing up in it, and it was painted a pale butter yellow. In pride of place in the middle of the room was a king size brass-framed bed that was covered with throw pillows in various sizes and colours. This room almost screamed ‘I belong to Darcy’ and Steve couldn’t stop smiling as he made his way into the room and dropped his bags down on the floor at the foot of the bed. “This is very…yellow,” he said as he looked around.
“Oh?” Darcy asked as she hefted her suitcase onto the bed and opened it, unpacking the clothes into piles before stuffing them in various drawers in the dresser. “What were you expecting, exactly?”
“Less yellow? I don’t know.” He nudged one of his bags with the toe of his boot. “Where should I put my stuff?” He supposed it was something to do with his time in the army, but he hated mess of any kind and, to him, leaving his bags on the floor was mess.
“I happen to like yellow,” she told him, her tone a little indignant. “And you can just leave them there, or you can put them in the wardrobe, I don’t think I left much stuff here so there should be room.”
It took them just over half an hour to unpack all their stuff and stow their empty cases in the eaves. By the time they made it back downstairs Darcy’s older brother, Jake, his wife and their two boys had arrived. The conversation quieted as Darcy and Steve walked into the kitchen, making it all the more apparent that they were the current topic of conversation. “Steve, this is my big brother, Jake, his wife Ruth and their two boys Adam and John. Everyone, this is Steve.”
“Hi,” Steve said, raising his hand in an awkward wave, fully aware that everyone was giving him the once over, probably trying to figure out what he was doing invading a family occasion.
“Hello, Steve,” Darcy’s brother stood up and held his hand out for a shake, his eyes widening when it appeared he actually recognised him. “Did anyone ever tell you that you look a great deal like the big man in red white and blue?”
Ignoring the quiet giggle that Darcy tried, unsuccessfully, to smother, he smiled and answered, “I’ve heard it a few times or so.” He lifted a hand and scratched at the light stubble growth on his chin, this was the one part of growing a beard that he hated, but he loved the anonymity it seemed to give him once it was actually grown.
“You could be his twin,” Ruth interjected, not hiding the fact that she was looking him up and down, her glance admiring though not in a way that could be considered at all creepy. When Ruth finished her visual examination of Steve she raised an eyebrow in Darcy’s direction, and mouthed silently, “Very nice…you lucky girl!” This statement caused the younger Lewis sibling to blush rather prettily.
The evening would usually start the moment that the sun set, but things were a little more casual in the Lewis household; calmer, more relaxed and less inclined to follow every rule to the letter. Adam lit the first candle on the Menorah and the family recited the brachah before sitting down for a very large meal of steaming sticky brisket, crispy potatoes and lots of vegetables, followed by a delicious kugel, one of many desserts that Helen made really well, if Darcy and the others were to be believed.
For the first time in a long while, Steve was actually so full he couldn’t eat anything else, he moved his chair back a little from the table and stretched his legs out, watching with a smile on his face at the way Darcy interacted with her family. He’d thought that she would be very different away from the Tower, but it seemed that she joked and laughed wherever she was, and he loved it. She could make him feel welcome no matter where she was, and it was because of that he had felt comfortable accepting her invitation to spend the holidays with her and her family; if they were anything like her then there was no way he was going to feel uncomfortable around them.
The two boys were sent down to their bedroom in the basement after dinner, leaving the adults to sit around the fire in the den, enjoying a couple of glasses of very good red wine and a chat about anything and everything. Quite a few times Steve had found himself roaring with laughter at the tales Darcy told about the Tower and its residents, though she was always so careful to not reveal things that the Avengers wouldn’t want shared with people they didn’t know. It never failed to amaze him when he realised quite how much she noticed that so many other people missed.
At almost midnight everyone started to make their way to their bedrooms, the food had long since been cleared away and the batter for the breakfast waffles had been made and was in the fridge. Darcy went and got a couple of glasses of water and smuggled a few cookies in her pocket, she knew for a fact that Steve would get hungry in the night, and she didn’t think that her parents would appreciate him wandering around the house. “Come on Steve-O, come and let me corrupt you.”
Stifling an awkward and somewhat embarrassed laugh, Steve waved a goodnight to his hosts and followed Darcy up the two flights of stairs to her room in the attic.
Darcy wasted no time in changing into a thick pair of pyjamas that she’d bought especially for the trip, she ignored the smirk on Steve’s place when he noticed the shield emblazoned across her rear, and the hammer on her chest, defending herself with a simple, “It gets really cold in here at night, Steve. Be grateful I didn’t get a hot water bottle when I was downstairs. I figured I could use you instead!”
“Uhh…” Steve responded. It wasn’t that he’d never shared a bed with a beautiful woman before, but this was Darcy, and he really didn’t want to embarrass himself, something he was sure he’d do given the fact that he’d been dreaming about her in exactly this situation since almost the first time he’d met her. “I’ll be perfectly fine on the floor. I have a bedroll,” he held up the offending bedroll and made to lay it out on the floor.
“I don’t think so. My mom would be horrified if I let a guest sleep on the floor when there’s a perfectly good half a bed going spare.” Darcy climbed into the bed, tugged the covers up to her shoulders as she shimmied down under them and then pulled the edge of them back to show him where she felt he should be lying. “Look, plenty of room.” At his hesitation, the welcoming smile on her face faded a little. “I promise I won’t do anything to compromise your honour, Cap. It’s just somewhere to rest your head, and make sure that my feet don’t turn into ice blocks overnight.”
Realising that she wasn’t going to give in easily, Steve stripped down to his boxers, a pair that were red and gold and covered in the Iron Man mask, an unfortunate gift from Tony a few years ago and ones that he only tended to wear when he didn’t think they would actually get seen by anyone else. “Don’t you dare laugh,” he told her as he neatly folded his clothes and placed them on the ottoman at the end of the bed before getting under the covers. “So, how do you plan to protect my modesty?” he asked her, rolling to face her on the mattress.
“I sort of figured that you’d be strong enough to fight off any unwanted advances,” she informed him as she took off her glasses and placed them on the nightstand. “Especially given the fact that I’m a half-blind midget with zero in the way of assault training.”
“And if they’re not unwanted?” He cupped her chin in one hand and tipped her face until she was staring up at him. She licked her lips and he had to fight back a quiet groan at the alluring picture she presented. “What if they’re very far from unwanted?” When she didn’t appear to be making any effort to move away from his gentle touch, he leant forward and touched his lips to hers, his tongue tasting the faint remains of her favourite strawberry and mango lip balm.
“I’d say that I’m a very lucky girl and we should do that again,” she murmured against his mouth, her voice husky and quiet, sending a frisson of desire down the length of his spine.
The next morning neither of them wanted to leave the cocoon of Darcy’s bed, at some point during the night Steve had become the big spoon to Darcy’s little one, curled around her, protecting her from the cold, and enjoying the way her curves pressed against him with every move she made as she slowly started to wake.