A Gift From: caitis_musings
Title: Darcy's Armory
A Gift For: kiss_me_cassie
Rating: T / PG13
Warnings/Choose Not To Warn: Poly, Established relationship
Summary/Prompt Used: Darcy carries weapons for all of them and it's always fun to watch them guess how many she's carrying. (Prompt used: Weapon Hiding & Finding)
Author's Note: Thank you, GG, for reading through on short notice!


Darcy's Armory

Free time took on a whole new meaning when splitting time between Doctor Jane Foster and the insane asylum known as S.H.I.E.L.D. Darcy Lewis could write a dissertation on the subject. And she’d done just that when Agent Stoneface, a.k.a. Coulson, suggested her attendance at one of the branches of S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy.

Who did he think he was kidding?

Darcy woke up in time to get breakfast made so she knew Jane ate something a little more substantial than a Pop-Tart. Those remained ensconced in the labs for snacks, or even lunch if all else failed. Breakfast meant protein, carbs, and some kind of fruit or vegetable so she could feel reasonably sure her boss-slash-best friend wouldn’t collapse or blow away in a stiff wind. Then she spent a good chunk of the day in the labs, either Stark or S.H.I.E.L.D. depending on who might be in the city. Darcy’s job consisted of monitoring the scientists and getting paperwork turned in to keep everything flowing. They literally paid her to herd cats and translate genius – hazard pay included for the not-infrequent explosions.

She still figured she needed a raise.

Her evenings were often spent in turning Jane’s lab back into a workable space as well as transcribing the stream of consciousness notes written on every available wall surface. Then she would have something for dinner while she watched whatever movie or show caught her eye before going to bed so she could wake up the next morning to do it all over again the next day.

Coulson never mentioned her going through the academy again after she turned in her self-assigned dissertation – 150 pages; 500 words per page; single spaced; just under 75,000 words.

Don’t mess with the Queen of the Science Minions.

“Darce?” Clint’s voice echoed through the apartment, breaking her train of thought. “You ready?”

“Coming!” she called back. One last check in the mirror, one final touchup to her lipstick, and Darcy smiled as she sailed into the living room. “I’m not late.”

A crooked grin curved his lips. “You’re not,” he agreed, his eyes doing a quick scan. “Gorgeous.”

“Flatterer!” Blowing him an air kiss, she let him steer her out the door. “Where are the others?”

“Waiting in the garage.”

She frowned at him as they stepped into the elevator. “Are we in a hurry?”

“Not so much in a hurry,” he shook his head, “as trying to get out of the Tower before someone either crashes our evening or comes up with something that just has to be done right this minute.” He rolled his eyes. “You know how they can be.”

“True,” she nodded. “One more question about a job, or one last look at some kind of experiment.”

“One more practice session with some new piece of equipment.”

“Masochists and workaholics,” Darcy sighed. “We’re surrounded by them.”

“Says the woman with the busiest schedule of all,” Clint teased.

“My work prevents the escape of Mad Science,” she pointed out. “You have me to thank for the lack of rampaging science experiments terrifying the good citizens of the city.” She pursed her lips. “Also, I’m pretty sure I managed to keep the Circle of Crazy Crackpots from opening a portal to an alternate universe earlier this week.”

Clint snickered as they exited the elevator into the garage. “Circle of Crazy Crackpots?”

“What else would you call them?” Shrugging, she walked over to where Bucky and Natasha waited for them. “Ready to get out of here?”

“Beyond ready,” Natasha agreed, one eyebrow flicking up as Clint continued chuckling.

Bucky nudged Clint as he moved to open the back door of the SUV for the women. “What’s got you amused?”

“Tell you over dinner,” he promised.

“Looking forward to it.”

The stars, sun, and moon must have been in the right alignment since the drive took almost no time at all. Having a reservation meant getting the table proved just as fast, and their waiter arrived with delightful promptness. Her spysassins might have been a little edgy with all the good fortune, but Darcy just counted her blessings and basked in their presence.

Besides, she’d sic Thor on anyone who interrupted them tonight.

Once the waiter left their side, Bucky turned to Clint. “Now, what was so funny?”

“Darcy.”

She made a face, wrinkling her nose as she poked him in the side. “That didn’t tell him anything.”

“It was still the truth,” he argued, sliding his arm around her shoulders. He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Your comment was funny.” The corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement. “And alliterative.”

A foot prodded Darcy’s and she looked over to find Natasha smirking at her. “What did you say?”

“I told Clint that I deserved all the gratitude for preventing a portal being opened to an alternate universe this week,” she shrugged.

“Not that part, Darce.” Clint tugged on a lock of her hair. “Tell them the ‘who’.”

“Ah, right, that part.” She tapped a finger against her lips.

Bucky grinned at her. “Feeling playful tonight, Doll?”

“Maybe just a bit,” she agreed, holding up a hand to measure an inch between her forefinger and thumb. “But I prevented the mad science experiment by the Circle of Crazy Crackpots.”

Natasha started laughing as the men snickered. “I want you to say that in front of Stark,” she decided. “Just so we can get a picture of his face when you call him a crackpot.” Laughter choked off anything else she might have said as she leaned into Bucky’s side.

“Me too,” he snickered. “Docs Jane and Betty too.”

“Don’t forget Bruce,” Clint chimed in. “He’s got to be in there too.”

“They really are Crackpots when they’re exhausted and at cranky stage.” Darcy nodded at him as she reached for her water. “Hulk agrees with me,” she added. “Just so you know. Though . . . he calls them fuzzy heads.” She tilted her own head. “Mine sounds better.”

Apparently, that proved the last straw and all three of her spysassins lost their battle and gave up all control to their laughter.

Dinner passed in high spirits, the four of them enjoying the chance to spend time alone without interruption. Much as they enjoyed the conveniences of the Tower, living there meant a lot of interruptions from their friends and teammates. Given how rarely their schedules coordinated to allow the four of them to be in the same place at the same time . . . well, they had wanted to make the most of the evening. Thus . . . date night.

Besides, more than one of them had a weakness for this place’s chocolate mint truffle tart.

“Who’s paying?” Bucky asked as he forked up the last of his dessert.

Natasha winked at Darcy. “Who managed to conceal the most weapons?”

“I lose,” she volunteered immediately. “Or win, depending on how you look at it.”

Clint leaned away, doing another quick scan. “Yeah,” he nodded. “You’ve only got . . . three.”

“Four,” Bucky corrected.

Natasha tilted her head. “Two.”

“What is this?” she giggled. “Guess the Darcy armory?”

“Did any of us get it right?” Clint chuckled.

“Nope!”

All of their eyes sharpened on her, prompting another set of giggles. Darcy let them look their fill as she focused on finishing her dessert. Whipped cream and chocolate should not be wasted, especially not if she could use them to tempt and tease . . . which she took great fun in doing as they were so focused on her anyway. She hummed in approval at the chocolate mint flavor as she took another bite.

“You’re going to get in trouble, little girl,” Clint murmured in her ear.

“I know,” she agreed, running her finger through the last bit of cream. She winked at him before licking it off. “But it’s always entertaining.”

“I think our pchelka is ready to go home,” Natasha noted, a bit of a purr entering her voice.

“We can’t leave until you guess how many weapons I’ve got,” Darcy demurred with a small pout.

“So much trouble, doll.” Bucky shook his head before glancing at the dance floor. Pushing to his feet, he extended his hand towards her. “Dance with me.”

“That could be cheating,” she mused even as she nudged Clint to let her up. He slid out of her way before slipping around the table to sit beside Natasha. Darcy blew them a kiss before turning a challenging look on Bucky. “Especially if you decide to get handsy out there.”

“No cheating,” he promised. Bucky lifted one hand to tap a finger on her nose. “But we need to be able to get a good look at you so we can guess.”

“Oh, I suppose,” she allowed, giving a playful sigh. She walked towards the dance floor. “If you need the help.”

“Behave.”

She squeaked as she felt the firm swat of his hand on her behind. “Now, Bucky,” she began, turning to face him, plans beginning to spin in her mind. They had the entire night, barring the end of the world. It meant they had time for games they rarely got to play.

Before she could say anything more, he spun her onto the floor and then back into his arms. “Later, pchelka,” he murmured, bending his head to put his mouth beside her ear. “Time to dance now.”

Okay, Darcy decided, she could dance. And if that meant she could enjoy the feel of her body against his while knowing the others would be watching every move? That would be a bonus. With that thought in mind, she gave herself up to the dance. Her body moved with Bucky’s, following his lead and reacting to the slightest pressure of his hands.

As they spun around the dance floor, she caught sight of Clint and Natasha talking, heads bent towards each other, and their shoulders relaxed as they so rarely did.

“They’ve been trading kisses and making plans,” Bucky informed her.

“Good,” she giggled. “They’ve always got fun ones.”

When the music came to an end, he guided her back to the table. “Five,” he announced.

“Agreed,” Natasha nodded, smiling at her as Clint switched back to his original side.

“Wrong,” Clint decided. “She’s got six.”

Darcy beamed at him. “You win!” She pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth before sliding into a seat beside Natasha. “Sorry, sweetheart,” she sympathized as she leaned her head on her girlfriend’s shoulder, “but you and Bucky missed one.”

“I counted one gun, two knives, and two tasers,” Bucky noted as he sat beside Clint.

Clint shook his head, tapping his fingers on Bucky’s wrist. “Three knives.”

“One gun for Bucky,” Darcy began, counting off on her fingers. “In the thigh holster. One knife for Natasha, in my hairpin, and two knives for Clint.” She winked at him. “One in my boot and the other opposite Bucky’s gun at my thigh.”

“You’ll have to get indecent to reach your tasers,” Bucky noted.

“If it gets to the point that I actually have to reach for them, no one will be paying attention to me.”

“We will.”

“Two knives for me?” Clint prodded, but Natasha nodded in understanding.

“Because one’s a throwing knife,” she commented, her fingers combing through the ends of Darcy’s hair. “So, you get two – one to throw and the other to use in hand-to-hand.”

“Hey,” Darcy giggled, spreading her hands. “Do I know my people, or what?”