Avengers, Thor 1. Breakdown

Darcy Lewis decides somewhere between Dallas and Austin, as her beat up old Ford truck speeds down a two-lane back country road, that she's made for road trips. Well, she actually decided that weeks ago when her epic summer-post-grad-school-pre-big-girl-job road trip began, but she's reminded of why again today as she passes the gorgeous Texas scenery that reminds her so much of a scene from _Friday Night Lights_. (Shut up! She's a big fan of Riggins, okay?) Country music blares out of the stereo and she sings along loudly while the wind blowing in through the open windows whips her hair around her face and shoulders. She hasn't seen another car for ages and she loves the solitude. Most people would hate all this time alone, but she's not most people.

The whole trip so far has consisted of going wherever sounds like the most fun at any given time. Right now she's headed to Austin because she's heard great things about the music scene. From there she plans to head to New Orleans and check out Bourbon Street, but it's hard telling what she'll feel like in a day or two. Her wanderlust hasn't eased yet and she doesn't start her job until September, so she's still got a month and a half left to cram as many destinations in as possible.

Her truck makes a hideous noise while she belts out the lyrics to "Jolene" and she frowns, wondering if that is supposed to be a protest against her terrible singing or something. The noise stops quickly and everything seems gravy for another few miles. Then something under the hood makes another horrible grinding sound and the truck lurches and sputters to a stop despite the fact that her foot is firmly on the gas. "Motherfucker!" she yells and slams her hands against the steering wheel a few times.

Darcy pops the hood and jumps out of the truck; she is less than impressed with the smoke pouring from the engine. She has no clue how to do anything to a vehicle other than put in gas and drive the thing. Sighing, she walks back around to the cab and digs through her bag until she finds her cell phone so she can find out where the hell she is and then look up the number for a tow truck.

One thing she learns quickly? There's no cell service in Bumfuck, Texas. _Fanfuckingtastic!_

She huffs out an impressive stream of curse words while tossing some clothes and a few necessities into a bag. There is a voice in her head that suspiciously sounds like her father's telling her she should've taken him up on his offer of a new car instead of insisting on taking this piece of junk on a tour of the country. Now isn't the time for that, though, because she's got to hoof it to the nearest town or place with cell service so she can get the hell out of here. Sighing, she tucks her taser in the back pocket of her cutoff denim shorts, because no way in hell is she walking _anywhere _without it, let alone in the middle of the sticks. She slings the bag across her body, grabs her straw cowboy hat off the front seat and pulls that on before locking up the cab and slamming the door shut.

_Goddammit, Texas is hot in July_, she thinks as she walks down the road, the gravel on the shoulder crunching beneath her boots. She's cursing herself for taking the road less traveled rather than the fucking highway where motorists pass regularly and there are handy things like gas stations nearby and reception on her damn phone. The air is stifling and thick with humidity and she has to strip down to her tank top in order to make the walk more tolerable. She keeps checking her cell phone every five minutes to see if she's miraculously within range, but so far no luck.

Darcy makes it about a mile down the road, or so she thinks, but when she turns back she can still make out her truck stranded on the side of the road and she wants to cry. Tears won't do any damn good anyway, so she keeps those emotions in check and keeps walking.

After another twenty minutes she hears the telltale roar of a motorcycle engine approaching and she stops in her tracks, whirling around and reaching for her taser just in case she'll need it in a hurry. There's a man on the bike who looks really fucking amazing as he gets closer, but part of that is probably the heat and the fact that he's basically her only hope for rescue out here. He gets closer still and now she knows how amazing he looks has _everything _to do with how gloriously attractive he is. The other stuff, too, she supposes, but seriously. This guy? Gorgeous with a capital G. If she had to guess, she'd say he's in his mid to late twenties, tall, dark blonde hair, a jaw so chiseled you could probably sharpen knives on it, and apparently a gym membership that gets used daily if his shoulders and arms are any indication. His skin is lightly tanned from the sun and is a stark contrast against the white t-shirt he's wearing.

The bike pulls to a stop and the man smiles at her, and her stomach flutters like a ridiculous schoolgirl. "Hi," he greets and pulls off his aviator sunglasses. _Jesus, _his eyes are so blue. She doesn't think there's one single thing that's unattractive about him. "Is that your truck back there?" he asks, jerking his head back up the road.

"It is," she nods. "Thanks so much for stopping. I don't have any cell service out here and I really have no clue where the hell I am. You're really here, right? Not an oasis or anything that my heat-addled brain is imagining?" He laughs, this deep, rumbling sound that just makes him even more attractive, which didn't seem possible five seconds ago.

"I am. I'm Steve," he smiles, holding out his hand.

She takes his hand and shakes it. "Darcy. You should know I carry a taser, so if you're going to be charming only to lure me into some field to chop me up into tiny little pieces it won't work because I will taser your ass."

Steve looks a little stunned, but he laughs again, though a bit awkwardly this time, and scratches his eyebrow. "Sorry to disappoint you and your taser, ma'am, but I don't have any plans like that whatsoever. I just saw your broken down truck and then you wilting here on the side of the road. Thought you could use some help."

The _ma'am_ is polite and very southern, but his accent is east coast all day; that's intriguing to her and makes her wonder what he's doing in the middle of nowhere Texas like she is. "Good to know," she says, a smile pulling at her lips involuntarily. "I can definitely use the help. Mind if I hitch a ride into the nearest town?"

He shakes his head and gives her a lopsided grin. "Not at all. Here, let me strap your bag down for you."

When he gets off the bike the idiom _tall drink of water_ springs to mind and she's really glad she's got her eyes hidden behind sunglasses, because she brazenly checks out his ass when he turns around. It's pretty spectacular in the faded blue jeans he's wearing. Okay, so maybe her truck breaking down wasn't the worst thing after all, not when this hot motorcycle riding stranger came to her rescue. "Thanks, Steve."

"You're welcome, ma'am," he says, slipping on his sunglasses and giving her a dimpled smile.

She smiles genuinely in return because he's simultaneously excelling at being adorable, charming, and sexy as fuck, which is a combination she didn't think possible. "Darcy, please," she corrects though she doesn't hate the way _ma'am _rolls off his tongue. He climbs back on his bike and she slides on behind him. "No helmet?" she questions.

Steve shrugs and she can feel the laugh rumble through his back. "I like to live dangerously. You all set?"

"You bet," she answers as he starts up his bike.

He turns his head and smirks. "Better hold on, then."

_Christ. _She hates herself a little for being turned on by that; she really needs to get something to drink and get out of the sun. Steve revs the engine and she heeds his warning pretty quickly after that, wrapping her arms around his waist so she doesn't go flying off the back onto the pavement.

* * *

Steve's logged a lot of miles on his bike ever since he left New York on that first trip after the Chitauri and he's now seen more than half the country, visiting all the places he and Bucky used to talk about when they were kids whenever he's not needed as Captain America. Running into the gorgeous woman whose arms are currently wrapped around him on a deserted road in the middle of Texas is definitely one of the more interesting things about his adventures and it's only been ten minutes so far with her. He doesn't know whether that makes him completely boring or that he can tell the woman – Darcy – is anything but. Maybe a little of both, he supposes.

He'd planned on stopping and helping when he first spotted the broken down truck, but he was pleasantly surprised when he continued down the road and saw the curves on the brunette stalking the pavement in her short denim cutoffs and cowboy boots, long dark hair spilling out from under her straw hat and down her back. He was nearly knocked over when she turned around and he saw her pretty face, plump lips, and those full breasts expertly filling out the tank top she wore. She made him laugh right off the bat, too, rambling a mile a minute with talk about tasering him should he try anything untoward.

Now those breasts are pressed against his back and her hands are holding tightly to his abdomen as he speeds down the road towards the town the sign they just passed stated was only five miles away. He has to force himself to concentrate on driving and not the feeling of her body against his. It's not an easy task, either. Dark clouds are rolling in, the wind is starting to pick up, and it cools the air down significantly. Darcy sighs in what he assumes in relief and he feels every movement of it on his back.

Right, concentrating on not wrecking his motorcycle and delivering her in one piece.

* * *

Darcy hasn't been on a motorcycle since high school, she thinks, but she loves every second of the ride she's currently taking. It's still hot outside, yes, but the wind hits her whole body as Steve races down the country road and cools her core temperature a few degrees, especially once the sky fills with dark clouds. She doesn't hate the way his body feels against hers as she holds on to him a little tighter than she probably needs to. His body is ridiculously impressive, so who can really fault a girl for pressing her hands firmly against his stomach to feel the rock hard abs beneath the soft fabric of his t-shirt? No one, that's who. Besides, it's for _safety_.

The tiny town leaves a lot to be desired when they roll in, but there's a little gas station up on the right with a worn and faded sign above it that reads _Auto Repairs_. Steve pulls into the lot and kills the engine. "Good lord, where the hell are we? Dog Patch?" she grumbles. She unwinds her arms from around him and hops off the motorcycle. Darcy takes off her hat and flips her hair over, trying to comb out some of the tangles with her fingers. Steve is watching her in amusement with this crooked and decidedly attractive smirk on his lips when she stands upright and tugs down her hat again. "What?"

He just shakes his head and slides off his bike, chuckling under his breath. "C'mon, let's go see about a tow for your truck."

"Oh, you don't need—" she starts, but he cuts her off.

"Do you remember which road your truck is stranded on?" he asks, a laugh lilting in his voice.

Darcy narrows her eyes and decides it's pointless to feign indignation. She hasn't a clue where her truck is and he knows it. "Fair point," she admits with a laugh. "Continue playing the white knight, then. I won't stop ya."

"After you." He opens the door for her and gestures for her to go ahead. And seriously? How the hell did she end up with this guy coming to her rescue? Her luck is total shit normally, and this kind of feels like she won the jackpot.

There's a middle-aged man with a grizzly beard and overalls behind the counter (of course there is) and his eyes fall to her chest (of course they do) as she approaches. "Hello," she eyes his name tag, "Larry. How are you?"

"Well, darlin', I'm just fine. What can I do for you?"

He's at least polite now, after the initial ogling of her tits. "I need a tow and some repairs. My truck broke down about ten miles from here."

"Can't help ya," he says gruffly.

Darcy narrows her eyes. "Excuse me?"

"Would like to help ya, but I'm afraid I can't. Our mechanic is on vacation and won't be back 'til Monday."

"Are there any towns close to here with a mechanic that is _not _currently on vacation, Larry?"

"'Fraid not. None that'll tow from that far away at least."

"I'm willing to pay the extra cost if that's what it takes."

"I don't reckon there'll be too much business of any kind taking place this weekend, darlin'. Have either of you looked at a weather report? Big storm 'bout to blow in and will probably last a few days."

Ah, there's the shitty luck she's used to.

Darcy and Steve both turn their heads towards the door as a clap of thunder booms loudly outside and see that the skies have darkened considerably in the short time they've been inside the gas station.

"I suggest you and yer boyfriend here grab a room over at the Tin Roof Inn and wait it out, 'cause you ain't gon' wanna be on that bike of yers when this bitch of a storm hits."

She wants to argue that he's not her boyfriend, but there's no point and it would only waste time they really don't have. Especially when thunder claps again and lightning flashes brightly in the sky. _Fuck_.

"How far to this inn, Larry?" Steve asks.

"Take the second light and head left on Jefferson. Can't miss it. S'right across the street from Piggy's Roadhouse."

Darcy turns on her heel and marches to the door and she hears Steve say, "Thank you for your help, sir."

"Yeah, thanks, Larry," she yells when she's halfway out the door. "For nothing. Well, this is just fucking fantastic," she spits. Lightning flashes again and she jumps.

"Get on, Darcy," he orders, throwing a leg over his bike. "I don't feel like getting struck by lightning today and I'm not going to let you either. We'll figure it out later."

She doesn't argue and quickly hops on behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist again as he fires up the engine and guns it onto Main Street.


	2. Tin Roof

They make it to the Tin Roof Inn with about a minute to spare before the rain starts falling in sheets. A bell dings when they step inside and take a quick look around. The décor is dated and tacky, but the place is clean and, more importantly, dry, so Darcy's not complaining. She's stayed in worse places before. There are some dicey hostels in Europe and that's all she's going to say about that.

A plump woman with gray hair and a sweet face walks out to the check-in desk and gives them a warm smile. "Howdy! Welcome to the Tin Roof Inn. I'm Trudy. Looks like y'all made it in the nick of time."

"Hi, ma'am," Steve smiles and sets his duffel bag on the floor. Trudy blushes twelve different shades of red at that smile and Darcy understands completely. "Can we get two rooms, please?"

"Two? Aren't you and that pretty girl sharing?"

It was Steve's turn to flush as he clears his throat and scratches his forehead. Darcy really needs to stop finding him so charming. "Ah, no. We're not—together. Like that. So, two rooms then, please, ma'am."

Trudy hums and hits the keys on the ancient computer on the desk. "Sorry, honey, we only have the one left. But it's our deluxe room."

Darcy barks out a laugh. This whole day is straight up turning into some ridiculously cheesy romance novel plot because life is a fucking cruel mistress sometimes. Steve turns around and looks at her like she's lost her mind, not that he'd know if she had one to begin with; they've barely exchanged a few dozen words in the time since they met. "Sorry," she giggles and she can't stop. "This is absurd." She has to cover her face with her hands until she can get the giggles under control.

"I don't suppose there are any other places in town to stay?" Steve asks.

"No, darlin'. But I think we've got a rollaway bed I can put in the room," Trudy tells him.

Steve sighs and reaches for his wallet. "We'll take it."

"Let me get it," Darcy insists, digging through her bag for her wallet.

He shrugs and hands Trudy his credit card. "You can buy dinner."

"Y'all should head over to Piggy's. Great barbecue. Got dancin', too. I've got an umbrella you can use."

"Thanks, Trudy," Darcy smiles politely and takes the keys off the desk. "We'll do just that."

Of course they have to walk outside to get to their room, but at least there is an awning so they don't get completely drenched. Darcy stops outside room 125 and unlocks the door. She's got Speedwagon's "Ridin' The Storm Out" in her head and she bites her lip to keep the laugh at bay, because she gets the feeling that she's already annoying Steve and she doesn't want to do that since they're confined to sharing this room.

"I'm sorry about this," he says when he walks into the room behind her.

Darcy dumps her bag on the bed and gives him questioning look. "For what? If you hadn't come along and saved my sorry ass, I'd be stranded on that road in this storm."

He gets this bashful look on his face and he stuffs his hands into his pockets. "I mean about the room situation."

"Do you own the Tin Roof Inn?" she asks and he chuckles at that and shakes his head. "Then don't worry about it." He doesn't look convinced as she plops down on the bed and kicks off her boots. "I'm a big girl, Steve, and I have platonically shared a room with a man before. Plus I have my taser, so I'm not worried."

Steve snorts out a laugh and walks over to sit at the table by the window. "You and your damn taser," he teases.

* * *

Steve turns on the television so he can watch the weather and see if it's really supposed to be as bad as Larry told them at the gas station. The radar is covered with red and orange and the weatherman states it's going to be steady rain and heavy thunderstorms for the next two days.

_Great_.

He switches off the TV because he doesn't want to watch it anymore and Darcy's got her white earphones of her iPod in her ears while she paints her toenails fire engine red. His gaze follows up her legs to her face, which is propped up on her knee while she concentrates on her feet, her lush lips mouthing the words to whatever song she's listening to.

He moves to sit by the window again and digs out his sketch book from his bag. There's no point in pretending he's not going to draw her once it's open, so he doesn't try. She has an interesting face that is completely gorgeous and her body is…no, thinking about her body is just plain dumb and dangerous right now and he's not going to go there. Sharing a room with her for the next two days is going to be hard enough without sitting around thinking about her body and the way it felt pressed against him on his motorcycle. She's a total stranger and he needs to get a grip.

His pencil strokes once across the page when his phone buzzes on the table and he sees a text message from Bucky.

**Bucky: **_How's the road trip, pal? Where are you this week?_

Steve huffs out a laugh and types his response.

**Steve: **_You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Texas._

**Bucky: **_Try me. _

Steve glances over to where Darcy is sitting and sees that she's got her legs stretched out now and she's wiggling her toes, inspecting her handiwork.

**Steve: **_Helped a stranded dame after her truck broke down. Stuck in small town inn waiting out a storm. Supposed to last two days. Sharing room with her._

**Bucky: **_Shut the fuck up and be serious _

He rolls his eyes and types out another message.

**Steve: **_Couldn't make this up if I tried, Buck. _

**Bucky: **_Good lookin' dame? _

Steve grunts and his fingers hesitate on the keys.

**Steve: **_Gorgeous. _

**Bucky: **_Details, Rogers. Details._

**Steve: **_Blue eyed brunette, full lips, very dangerous curves. _

Bucky's reply is full of those ridiculous smiley face emojis or whatever the hell they're called. The message is full of different laughing faces.

**Bucky: **_I hope you brought condoms._

**Steve: **_Fuck off, Bucky. _

Steve glares at the screen because now he's thinking about Darcy and sex, especially once he hears a little moan escape her lips and he glances sideways over at the bed and sees she's lying on her back stretching her arms overhead, hair fanned out on the white duvet. One leg bends up and she lowers her arms to rest a hand on her stomach. Her head turns and she smiles at him, just a little upturn of her lips, and she is the very definition of sexy. "Can I draw a picture of you?" he blurts before he can stop himself.

Her smile grows a bit brighter. "You wanna draw a picture of me?" she asks shyly.

It's definitely the safest option right now. "Yeah," he says, grinning at her.

"Do I have to pose?"

"Nah, you're fine just like that," he tells her, picking up his sketchbook and flipping to a new page.

"Good. I'm comfy like this. Draw away, Steve, and when you're done we'll go eat. Deal?"

Steve nods and smirks. "Deal."

He works for a while, quietly sketching lines and curves to get the basic shape of her pose on the bed before going back and detailing her features. Her eyes are always on his face when he looks up and there seems to be a different emotion reflected in them each time, but she keeps her face still, with a quiet half smile on her lips.

* * *

She's comfortable from her position on the bed, but the only sounds in the room for the last half hour or so have been the rain falling steadily outside and his pencil scratching against paper while he draws; it's starting to unnerve her. Maybe it isn't the near silence that's unnerving, but the fact that she's under intense scrutiny while this man draws her. "Can we talk while you draw, or will that distract you?" she finally asks.

Steve glances at her and his lips twitch into a half smirk. "Sure. What would you like to talk about?"

"Anything at all. I don't know anything about you other than your first name, you ride a motorcycle and have a bit of a hero thing going on. You like to draw and while your manners suggest southern charm, your accent screams east coast."

He chuckles and looks down at the book in his hands, smudging some of the charcoal with his finger. "Well, my last name is Rogers. I don't know about being a hero, but I've always liked helping people. Love drawing, been doing it since I was a kid. Uh, my manners are courtesy of my mother, and I'm Brooklyn born and raised and current resident when I'm not traveling on my bike."

"Nice to meet you, Steve Rogers," she grins. "How is that picture turning out?"

The look he gives her in response is fully impish. "Good. What about you, Darcy?"

"Oh. Right. It's my turn to share. My last name is Lewis, I'm a Pisces, I like long walks on the beach—" she trails off and laughs when he lifts his eyes and arches his left eyebrow at her. "What? Those are all true things, I'll have you know. I enjoy cracking a lot of jokes. Let's see—I just finished grad school, and I have been traveling since May in that piece of shit truck that I loved until the moment it stranded me on the side of the road. Grew up in Ohio and I'm kind of obsessed with music and movies, pop culture in general, really."

Steve huffs out a laugh and puts his pencil down. He pushes to his feet and sets his sketchbook on the bed for her to see. "There you go, Darcy Lewis."

Darcy sits up and grabs the book so she can see what she looks like to him. She's not expecting as much talent as is displayed on the page. It's really wonderful and it looks just like her, only much prettier honestly. "This is beautiful, Steve." He shrugs and his expression turns slightly bashful. It's adorable.

"Well, you are. Beautiful, I mean. So, it wasn't hard to draw that."

She's not one for blushing, but he's gone and made her do it. "My turn," she tells him, quickly wanting to deflect this attention away from her. She grabs his sketchbook and hops up off the bed to grab a pencil.

"You can draw?" he asks, clearly surprised.

"Shh. Just sit down and stay still." He does and she musters a serious face as she puts pencil to paper. She works quickly, biting her lip in concentration as she glances up periodically at him. His expression is so serious that it makes her giggle. Darcy's finished in about two minutes and she signs her name in the bottom right corner before tossing the book to him.

He grabs the book and bursts out laughing when he sees the terrible picture she drew which is just an exaggerated stick figure with a grim expression and muscles riding a motorcycle. "You're welcome," she laughs. "Let's go eat."


	3. Neon

They huddle close together under the umbrella Trudy loaned them and hurry across the street in the pouring rain to Piggy's Roadhouse for dinner. It's raining too hard to keep them completely dry, and Darcy squeals when they run through a puddle and the water splashes high on her bare legs. "This fucking rain," she shouts and he huffs out a laugh. She's mouthy and kind of swears like a sailor, and he finds that more attractive than he thinks he ought to. Steve holds the door open for her and she quickly ducks in out of the weather.

The joint is much more crowded than Steve would've guessed, but in a small town like this he figures this is probably the hot spot on Friday and Saturday nights. But the food smells wonderful and the music is loud and upbeat. Darcy is watching the people spinning around on the dance floor with a lot of interest. "God, I love this place already," she says with a happy grin and tells the hostess they need a table for two. "We're totally dancing after we eat."

Steve gives her a lopsided grin and shrugs. "We'll see."

Darcy waves him off. "Well, I'm definitely dancing. I'm sure there's a cowboy in here willing to take me for a spin around the dance floor if you won't."

"I'm sure you're right, but I never said I wouldn't dance with you." She casts her eyes sideways and smirks at him, nudging him with her shoulder. He's quickly getting in over his head where Darcy's concerned and he just as quickly realizes he doesn't care. This is the most fun he's had in a long, long time. He's spent so much time alone on the road that it's nice to finally have someone to talk to. He's going to enjoy the time with her while it lasts.

The hostess seats them in a booth close to the dance floor and he immediately digs into the bucket of peanuts on the table. Darcy looks over the menu and he can see her red painted lips mouthing the words to the song playing. Her boots are tapping along to the beat under the table when she accidentally kicks him and her head shoots up. "Oops! Sorry, Steve," she apologizes, her blue eyes glittering in the light of the neon sign on the wall.

"Don't worry about it. What sounds good to eat?"

She glances back down at the menu and hums. "All of it. I could eat all the pig in Piggy's Roadhouse right now. But, I think I'll get the pulled pork sandwich. You?"

"Either the full rack of ribs and a pulled pork sandwich, or the barbecue dinner for two. I'm so hungry. Wanna share fried pickles, too?"

"Jesus," Darcy laughs. "Where are you gonna put all of that food?"

"High metabolism," he tells her and takes a sip of his water.

A waitress comes by and takes their order and they talk a bit while they wait about the places they've been on their respective road trips. She talks more than he does, but he likes listening to her voice and the flair she inserts into her stories makes him laugh. When it's his turn, she leans forward and listens intently, smiling and laughing about some of the weird things he's encountered along the way.

"What do you do that affords you all this time to travel?" Darcy asks and takes a sip of her beer.

"I was in the Army for a long time. Now I am a freelance consultant specializing in security, so my schedule is very flexible." It's the closest thing to the truth that he can say.

"Thanks for your service, soldier." She salutes him, and he smirks back. It's silly and adorable.

"What are your plans after you're done traveling?" Steve asks.

Darcy sighs dramatically and fiddles with an extra coaster on the table. "I'm going to work for my dad. I think. No, I am." She laughs dryly and rests her chin in the palm of her hand. "I change my mind about it every other day or so. I'll be in security, too, but I specialize in the computer variety."

Steve's intrigued by this stuff with her dad and gives her an encouraging smile. "Why do you change your mind about it?"

She takes another drink of her beer and then shrugs. "If you knew my dad, you'd completely understand. I didn't know him until I was twelve, and our relationship was pretty tenuous for a long, long time. We're very similar, so I think that's part of the issue. He's a bit of a handful, too," she winks and Steve chuckles over the top of his beer.

"Do you have other options?" he asks.

"I do," she nods absently. "I did an internship during my undergrad with an astrophysicist and she's dying to have me back, but I know I don't want to do that job. Science isn't my thing, and not to sound like a snob, but I think my master's degree means I can do more than fetch coffee and pop-tarts and make sense of scribbled notes, you know? I've had offers for jobs similar to what I'll be doing with my dad and I threaten to take one when he starts driving me crazy—which is practically every other day. So, long story short, while I frequently change my mind about my dad and question whether working for him will drive me to the loony bin, I know come September I'll be in New York working for him."

Steve's eyebrows shoot up and his face splits into a huge grin. "New York?" he asks, surprised. "Really?"

She gives him a wicked smile and brings her beer to her full red lips again just as their food arrives. "How 'bout that? We'll be in the same city."

Darcy watches in amazement as he polishes off his dinner, and when he glances at her uneaten fries, she just laughs and pushes the basket across the table for him. The waitress comes by and asks if they need anything else and she orders another beer while he asks for a dessert menu. Darcy snorts. "I don't know whether to be impressed or disgusted, honestly." Steve gives her a boyish smile and tosses another fry into his mouth.

The DJ announces they're going to play a few line dancing songs and her face lights up. "I'm going to head out there. I love me some line dancing," she grins. "Want to come with?"

He shakes his head and gives her a friendly smile. "Nah, you go ahead. Have fun."

"Suit yourself," she shrugs. "I'll get you out there before the night is over. Count on it." Darcy waggles her fingers and hurries out to the dance floor.

Steve sits back and sips his beer while he watches her try to figure out the dance steps, which she does pretty quickly. There's a bright smile on her face and when she messes up, she throws her head back and laughs. He can't hear her over the music, but he imagines it's a big, full sound. Everything about her seems vibrant and he likes it. Knowing that she'll be in New York does nothing to curb the attraction he feels for her. In fact, it only magnifies it tenfold.

His eyes are drawn to the sway of her hips and the short denim cutoffs she's wearing as she moves around the floor. Darcy looks over and waves, a pretty smile on her face as she turns around in quick circles before bumping into another dancer. Steve snorts out a laugh when she looks to him again, pulling a funny face and shrugging her shoulders innocently, mouthing "Oops!" She tucks her lower lip between her teeth, smiling around it, and—damn it all, he wants her. They've only known each other for a handful of hours and he can't help but wonder what it would be like to tug that full red lip between his teeth.

* * *

Darcy's having the best time dancing; everyone is so nice and more than willing to help her with the steps when she doesn't know them. She wishes Steve would get up and dance, but he seems pretty content to just watch. He gets a free pass for now since he just consumed half the kitchen, but she's getting him out on this dance floor before the night is over.

It's not one, but this night feels a whole lot like a date and she doesn't try and talk herself out of feeling that way. Steve's gorgeous and sweet and charming and he lives in the same city she's going to be living in soon. She doesn't put a lot of stock into fate (none, actually), but even with all her cynicism, she has to admit it's quite the coincidence that they met. While she has absolutely enjoyed the solitude of her trip, it's been so nice having someone to share a meal with and have an easy conversation.

Someone taps her on the shoulder and she turns to find a man with gray hair, wrinkles, and mischief twinkling in his green eyes standing there. "How 'bout a dance, darlin'?" he asks with a Texas twang and she happily obliges.

She's surprised by how well this man—Clyde, he tells her—dances and she laughs as he spins her around the dance floor. "Darlin', hope I'm not makin' your boyfriend jealous," Clyde says after a bit and twirls her in a circle.

Darcy blinks owlishly at him before shaking her head. "He's—Steve's not my boyfriend," she replies and resists the urge to look over shoulder at their table.

"Youth is wasted on the young," Clyde chuckles and turns them around so she can see Steve. He's still seated at the table, fingers looped lazily around the neck of a beer bottle, watching her with a quiet smile on his face. "That fella hasn't stopped watching you since you set foot on the floor, young lady."

Darcy feels her cheeks warm and she smiles softly at Steve before looking up into Clyde's face again. "Really?"

Clyde kisses her hand when the song is over and thanks her for the dance. He pauses before walking away, clapping his strong and wrinkled hand on her shoulder. "Better ask him to dance, darlin'. Other fillies in this place have their eye on that one."

There are butterflies in her tummy and—oh, this is just silly. Darcy crooks her finger and motions for him to come out and dance with her. Steve grins and shakes his head no, so she walks over to the table and holds out her hands for him. "C'mon, Steve. It's time to two-step."

"I don't know how," he says from his seat.

Darcy pouts her lips a bit and bats her eyelashes. She definitely doesn't miss the way his eyes flick down to her mouth. "I don't either. But, I'll hold on to you, you'll hold on to me, and we'll figure the rest out as we go."

Steve sighs like he wants to say no, but she knows he's not going to because the manners his mother instilled in him will kick in. The corner of mouth ticks up as he places his hands in hers and lets her pull him to his feet. "Alright," he surrenders and she smiles winningly up at him. He wraps his fingers fully around her right hand, giving it a little squeeze, and he follows her out to the dance floor.

The jolt of excitement that rushes up her arm does nothing to tame the butterflies doing their own two-step in her belly.

* * *

Darcy was wrong. They don't figure out that dance whatsoever and they mostly end up laughing too hard, stepping on each other's toes, and bumping into people. He moves left instead of right and Darcy's boot gets caught on his, pitching her forward. His arm snakes her around the middle to keep her from face planting on the dance floor. Darcy's eyes go wide a moment before she dissolves into a fit of raucous laughter. "We are terrible at this," she yells over the music. Steve chuckles in agreement and sets her upright on her feet, his hands lingering for a moment on her waist.

The music thankfully slows, and Steve thinks they both can handle it without much incident. "Let's try a slow one," he says lowly, holding out his hand for her. Darcy takes it, curling her fingers around his and steps closer to his body, tentatively resting her right hand on his shoulder, the warmth of it seeping through the fabric and into his skin.

"Can't go wrong with Patsy Cline," she smiles warmly as "Crazy" starts playing. He wraps his free hand around her waist, resting it on the small of her back, and they start swaying back and forth in time with the music. She's warm and soft in his arms, and from this close he can smell the perfume she sprayed earlier. It's not overpowering, but dark and sexy, much like the woman he's dancing with.

Darcy looks so pretty right now with the lights of the bar slanting over her face and big, blue eyes staring up at him beneath the brim of her straw cowboy hat. "I've had a lot fun with you tonight," he says after a beat. She captures the corner of her bottom lip and the rest of her mouth curls into a sexy grin the same way she had done earlier and—_fuck_. He's in so much trouble.

"I've had a lot of fun with you, too," she tells him and slides the hand resting on his shoulder down a bit, her fingers slightly curling into the fabric of his shirt. "We're having much better luck with this dance."

Steve grins and slides the hand on the small of her back just a fraction lower, his fingertips brushing against the denim of her shorts. "Yeah, definitely."

Another slow song starts playing and Darcy shifts closer, pulling her hand out of his grasp to loop both of her arms over his shoulders. "This is a great song," she sighs, blinking slowly at him. Steve doesn't know it, but if it's responsible for that dreamy look on her face and the way she brushes her fingers lightly against the back of his neck, he's inclined to love it.

Something shifts between them and this dance is starting to feel very dangerous. _God. _He wants her so much that it's distracting. His brain is turning over one explicit image after another of the things he'd like to do to her, with her. He swallows thickly and fights to keep his hands still on her back. Darcy's fingers run over his neck again and his eyes shut in response as he inhales a sharp breath. "Darcy," he groans in warning and she lets her arms slide down his arms. His eyes open and he sees that her own are a little wild, her red lips parted slightly. _Fuck it, _he thinks. Life's too short and he wants to kiss her.

He leans in slowly, watches as Darcy's head tips back just enough, her eyes fluttering shut, fingers flexing into his arms, and closes his eyes. His lips are a breath away from hers when someone bumps right into his back, jolting them both out of the moment. Steve straightens to his full height and makes a disgruntled noise. Darcy's hands fall away from him and he shoots her an apologetic look.

She stares at him for a long moment, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. "Wanna get out of here?" she asks finally.

Dangerous, indeed.

Steve nods once. "Yes."

"Let's go," she tells him, fisting her hand in his shirt and leading him off the dance floor.

She tosses some bills on the table, grabs her bag, and heads for the door. He follows, heart thumping erratically in his chest.


	4. Let It Rain

Darcy pushes her way out of the bar and into the night, not caring at all about the umbrella left forgotten at the table as the rain soaks them both. Steve grabs her hand, locks their fingers together, and a jolt of excitement shoots all the way through her body at the simple gesture. They just met a few hours ago and haven't even _kissed_ yet, but she knows as soon as they're on the other side of that motel room door what's going to happen between them.

And she wants it to happen more than she wants to breathe right now.

They're completely drenched when they reach their room and Darcy fumbles for the key in her purse to unlock the door. His solid chest is pressed against her back and she can feel the heat of his skin seeping through their cold, wet clothes, and she shivers when his broad hands palm her hips. She whirls around and his mouth crushes against hers. It's sort of painful, that first hurried meeting of their lips, but he shifts the angle just slightly and everything clicks. Her head swims when his tongue presses past her lips and into her mouth to curl furiously around hers and she moans in response, grabbing handfuls of his wet shirt to pull him closer.

Steve breaks the kiss and lets go of one hip long enough to pluck the key from her hand and undo the lock. Her heart is knocking so hard against her ribs in anticipation she wonders if he can hear it even over the rumbling thunder in the distance. Darcy pushes up on her toes and softly kisses the underside of his jaw; the fingers still wrapped around her hip flex impatiently and the low growl he makes in the back of his throat deepens the already pulsing ache between her thighs. He gets the door open and his mouth is hot on hers again. Gripping both hips, he pushes her back into the room, kicking the door closed behind him.

He plucks the hat off her head, letting it drop carelessly to the floor, and sinks his hands into her hair, curving one around the nape of her neck. The callouses on his fingertips send pinpricks of heat skittering up her spine and she knows the goose bumps dotting her skin have little to do with the air conditioning. Darcy inches closer, hands clutched on his shoulders, and when Steve nips hard at her bottom lip, she whimpers and swears that her toes curl inside her boots. He's goddamn _great _at kissing and she wants more. Darcy clasps a hand around the back of his head and kisses him again, deeper, messier than before.

His calloused hands slide down to grip her thighs and he hauls her up off the ground, turning around to press her against the door. Jesus. Her head falls back with a thump when he rolls his hips and she feels how hard he is against her center. "God," she moans and lifts her head enough to bring their mouths together, fingers clutching his wet hair to hold him in place. Steve holds her to the door with just his hips pressed intimately against her and slides his hands up her body. One wraps around her neck, fingers tangling in her hair and the other cups her breast, his thumb rubbing over her nipple through her clothing. She already feels too much and she can barely think. "This is crazy," she pants when his tongue drags along the curve of her jaw, and she swears unintelligibly when his teeth tug at her earlobe. "So crazy," she says again, "insane."

Steve lifts his head and she whines at the loss of his lips on her throat. "Say the word and we'll stop," he says, eyes locked on hers.

Darcy shakes her head and runs a hand down his face. "I don't want to stop." She swallows hard and hopes like hell he doesn't decide to pump the breaks here. "Do you?"

"Hell no." He grins and she answers with a grin of her own before wiggling her hips and leaning forward to tease the seam of his lips with her tongue.

"Good," she murmurs as she kisses him.

* * *

Steve wakes up the next morning wrapped around Darcy, his arm slung across her middle and their legs tangled beneath the sheets. The light in the room is dim and gray and the sound of rain falling steadily on the tin roof overhead is almost enough to lull him right back to sleep. He glances at the clock and sees that it's barely 9:00. That is sleeping in for him normally, but he and Darcy let go of each other for the final time only a few hours ago when the exhaustion took over.

Last night was unlike any he'd ever experienced. Sure, he'd had sex before with his ex-girlfriends, but everything with Darcy had been so intense and wild. And fun. God, did they have fun together. He's half hard just thinking about it as highlights from last night loop through his brain. The way her full tits bounced as he frantically drove himself into her; how she dug her red fingernails into his chest while she rode him slowly; the guttural sounds she made while he had her bent over the table and fucked her from behind; the wicked look in her eyes when she sank down on her knees and sucked him off.

She looks peaceful now, almost innocent while she sleeps; all that lush brown hair fanned over the pillow, full, pink lips parted slightly, dark lashes contrasting against the pale skin of her cheekbones. Darcy sighs and shifts closer to him, burrowing her face into the crook of his neck. Her warm hand settles on his hip and her breasts tease his chest with every breath she takes, and he's fully hard again.

Steve carefully untangles his body from hers, and she lets out a little whine he shouldn't find as cute as he does and he rolls her onto her back. He slides down the bed, pulling the covers with him as he goes, and spreads her legs apart, hooking his arms around them. He slowly kisses up the inside of one thigh and brushes his nose along her center to breathe in the scent of her. She smells so wonderful that he has to roll his hips into the mattress to ease some of the ache of his erection. The flat of his tongue licks a teasing stripe up her slit and he closes his eyes, savoring her heady, sweet flavor. He teases her some more, grinning against her center when her thigh twitches involuntarily beneath his hand. She moans softly when he licks her again and one of her hands slides into his hair to hold on to him. His eyes flick to her face and he sees she's still asleep. He's content to lap lazily at her pussy until she's awake; eat her until she comes all over his tongue and begs him to stop. Darcy jerks when he swirls his tongue around her clit; he watches her face and does it again.

"God, Steve," she groans, her voice thick with sleep, heavy eyes blinking open. He winks at her and buries his tongue deep inside her, making her back arch on the bed. She tightens her hands in his hair and pulls his head closer to her pussy, her hips moving slowly in tight circles against his mouth. Everything about it is so fucking good and he thinks could probably come just from the desperate sounds she's making and the taste of her on his tongue. He laps and flicks at her clit again, making her squirm and whimper. "Right there, right there, right there," she breathes, biting her lip, unfocused eyes watching him while drives her closer to the edge. Her legs start shaking and he knows she's almost there.

Steve sucks her clit into his mouth and bites down. Her whole body bows and goes rigid and a high-pitched, broken sound tears from her lips. It's fucking sexy, is what it is, knowing he pulled that sound from her. He keeps swirling his tongue deliberately around her while she comes down. "Steve," Darcy laughs breathlessly, trying to close her legs. Grinning against her center, he laps at her some more until she finally pushes his head away. He pulls back, chuckling, and presses a kiss to the crease of her thigh. "Come up here," she orders.

Taking his time, he kisses his way back up her body. "Hell of a wake-up call," she says, smirking once they're face to face, and gives him a deep, dirty kiss, hands curving around the sides of his face.

"I had to have you again and you were sound asleep," he mumbles against her mouth. "I got creative."

Darcy huffs out a laugh and hooks a leg around his waist to pull him closer. "I'll say."

Steve sits back on his heels, ignoring her whine of protest, and rubs the head of his cock teasingly along her opening. Her whine turns to a moan when he taps her clit with the head of his dick, and he's so hard it's painful. He groans when she pushes her hips up and draws him into her body. "Fuck," he growls when he rocks his hips forward and bottoms out inside her. He hooks his arms under her knees and ratchets his hips frantically because his release is dangerously close already. No condom. _Shit._ Darcy's got her hands braced against the headboard and her tits are bouncing wildly while he fucks her and it's suddenly too much. He pulls out and grabs his cock, stroking it twice before coming on her stomach. A full shudder runs through his body and he squeezes his eyes shut, swallowing hard and focusing on getting his breathing under control. Darcy lays a hand on his knee and he opens his eyes. "Darcy, 'm sorry," he says.

"Don't be. It's pretty hot actually," she tells him with a sleepy smile.

"I mean about forgetting the condom. I'm sorry."

"I'm on birth control, Steve, it's fine. I would have stopped you otherwise."

"Okay," he breathes out and leans over to kiss her lazily. "Want some breakfast?" he asks against her lips.

"Desperately," she replies, running her fingers through his hair, nails scratching lightly on his neck. "Are you going to brave the elements for us?"

"Yep," he smiles and nips at her bottom lip. "We need fuel if we're going to keep doing this."

"Absolutely. It's only Saturday," she says quietly. "Just imagine what we can accomplish by Monday." There's a wicked gleam in her eye and a smirk on her lips, and a laugh rumbles through his chest.

"I'm lookin' forward to it," he says. Steve gives her another quick kiss and pushes off the bed.

Darcy holds her hands up and he helps her to her feet. His eyes rake down her naked body. "Oh, no you don't," she scolds, jabbing a finger into his chest. "Don't look at me like that. I'm starving and my body needs a break. I'm going to take a shower." He grins crookedly and when she turns he smacks her playfully on the ass. "Steve," she admonishes laughingly. She grabs a pillow off the bed and hits him with it, making him chuckle.

"You sure you don't want some company in there?" he calls when she walks into the bathroom.

"Next time, soldier," she yells back and closes the door.

Steve smiles and pulls some clean clothes from his duffel bag, deciding he's definitely holding her to that before the weekend is over.

* * *

"Jesus Christ," Darcy huffs as she collapses on top of Steve. Her heart is hammering in her chest, breathing erratic, as they become a tangle of sweaty limbs, and she can feel Steve's heart pounding against her cheek.

"That was really good," Steve pants and swallows hard, one hand slipping into her hair.

Good is an understatement for whatever that just was, because she came so hard she's still seeing spots. She shifts to rest her chin on his chest and looks up at him through lowered lashes. "You have the dirtiest mouth," she tells him, trailing a finger over the stubble on his jaw. "Seriously, that thing is fucking filthy." His careless shrug and almost boyish grin are a stark contrast to the things he was saying while they were fucking; he keeps surprising her with the various facets of his personality.

"I don't know how to respond to that," he chuckles.

Darcy giggles at that and presses a kiss to his chest. "I'll say thank you, because I don't think I've ever come that hard before."

"Well, you're welcome, then," he teases, wagging his eyebrows.

She draws herself up enough to kiss the corner of his mouth before rolling off him, sighing when the air hits her skin and instantly cools her body down. He gets out of bed to walk into the bathroom and her eyes follow him. His body is unbelievably gorgeous, and she can't stop looking at him. Glancing at the clock on the nightstand, she sees that it's almost dinner time. Rain is still pouring down outside and the sound against the roof just makes her want to curl up under the covers and not venture out for dinner. She saw a pizza menu by the phone earlier, so they'll probably just order in.

Sex has definitely been the main focus of their time together so far, but they've talked a lot and gotten to know each other a bit more, and god, doesn't that sound terrible? She's getting to know the man that's been inside her over and over again since they met yesterday. Whatever. He's an interesting guy, sweet and funny, too. They also curled up together and watched a movie earlier and it's the best day she's had in—well, ever sounds too dramatic, but it might be true, she thinks. They still have the rest of tonight and all day tomorrow together and she's going to soak up every second of it.

Darcy rolls over and grabs Steve's discarded t-shirt on the floor and slips that over her head before snuggling down under the covers. He walks out of the bathroom and pulls on a pair of shorts and climbs back in bed. "Hungry?" he asks.

"Famished. Pizza?"

He grins. "Sounds great."

She reaches for her cell phone and it rings in her hand. "Yikes, it's my dad. Definitely not answering that," she mutters, and presses ignore.

"Why not?" he wonders.

Darcy laughs a bit. "Because I'm a bad liar and I don't want him guessing what I'm up to this weekend. I'm living in this sex bubble with you until Monday. I'll talk to him then."

"Sex bubble?" he laughs.

She shrugs one shoulder carelessly and skims the menu for the pizza place. "How about sex den?" she suggests. "Love shack?"

"You're funny, Darcy."

After she orders the pizza, she rolls on her side to face him and props her head up on her hand. "So, what were we talking about before we got distracted by sex?"

Steve's eyebrow cocks up questioningly. "Which time?" he asks and they both laugh.

"Fair point. I think you were talking about New York," she offers.

"Yeah, about that," he starts, looking down at the bed and toying with the ends of her hair. "I really wanna see you when we're both back in the city." He lifts his eyes to hers and the smile he gives her makes her heart stutter a bit. "What d'you think? Can I take you on a date in September?"

A warm smile beams across her face and she nods. "I'd really like that," she says softly.

Steve curves his hand over her jaw and drops his mouth to hers to sip slowly at her lips. "Good," he murmurs, grinning into the kiss.


	5. Goodbye Town

As the pink light of dawn filters into the room Monday morning, they know their time together is rapidly drawing to a close. There are no hurried movements beneath the sheets this time; no frantic touches or dirty words, no desperate kisses. Words are whispered softly like promises against each other's skin as they move together slowly. He presses into her again and she arches up, meeting every thrust like a well-practiced dance. Steve laces their fingers of one hand together and draws her arm up over her head, holding it gently against the bed as he slips a hand into her hair and trades lazy kisses and slow smiles with her.

"You feel so good," she whispers against his lips, bending her knees up and hooking her feet around the small of his back to draw him deeper. Her fingernails tease over his skin on the back of his neck and down the curve of his jaw. Darcy blinks open sleepy blue eyes to look at him.

"So do you," he murmurs quietly, dropping his lips to hers and slipping his tongue into her mouth.

She cups the side of his face, her kisses growing a little more urgent as they chase their release. He can feel the beginnings of hers as she flutters around him and his hips snap a little harder in response, his free hand gliding down smooth, soft skin to grip her hip. Darcy's free hand seeks purchase on his back and her legs tighten around him, her breaths coming in short gasps against his neck as he drives her closer to the edge. Her body arcs and she keens out his name, her walls clenching hard around him, and after a few more frantic thrusts, he's gone, burying his nose in her hair as he comes.

Darcy runs her hands gently up and down his back as they come down, peppering kisses on his shoulder and neck. "That was…" she trails off and sighs.

Steve kisses her cheek and lifts his head to smile down at her. "It was," he agrees, rubbing his nose gently against hers.

"Do we have to go back to real life?" she pouts.

"Unfortunately," he says and nips at her lips. "We still on for our date?"

"You bet your ass." She grins at him and pulls him down for another kiss.

* * *

Steve helps get her truck taken care of and it's in the garage now being worked on. She could've handled it on her own, sure, but it's nice that he insisted on helping and hanging around with her. They're finishing up breakfast at the town diner when he reaches for her phone and keys his number into her contacts. Darcy smiles and does the same, saving her number under _Texas _before sliding it back over to him. "Where to next?" he asks after the waitress refills their coffee.

"I don't know," she shrugs carelessly and takes a sip of her coffee. "New Orleans probably. You?"

"Great city," he says easily, leaning back against the booth. "I'm headed—" he starts and his phone rings. "To work, I guess," he says frowning down at the display. "Rogers," he answers, his voice suddenly all business. "Yes, sir." He mouths an apology and slides out of the booth to finish the call outside.

Maybe it's silly and a bit stupid to feel sad about their weekend ending when they plan on seeing each other once they're back in the city, but it is what it is. Plans have a way of falling through even when people have the best of intentions, so she's trying not to overthink things. The worst that could happen is they never see each other again, but then she'll always have the memories of a hot and wild weekend spent holed up with a gorgeous man in a little Texas town. The best, well, she doesn't know, but meeting up with him again and going on that date sounds like a really terrific start.

She sips her coffee and watches him through the window. The set of his shoulders is tense and she wonders what kind of job it is that he'll be leaving to do. One he can't talk about, she's sure, given the nature of his work. He stuffs his phone back into the pocket of his jeans and walks back inside. "Real life called?" she asks.

"Yes," he clips and sighs. "I need to go. I have to catch a plane in Dallas."

"Okay," she nods and offers him a smile because it looks like he could use it right now. "I'll buy breakfast."

"Darcy—"

"I insist," she says and grabs the check off the table and heads for the register before he can argue with her.

They don't say anything as they walk outside. She's about to climb on the back of his motorcycle when he puts a hand on her arm and stops her. "Hey," he says softly, pulling her toward him.

"Why is this weird all the sudden?" she laughs nervously, laying her hands on his chest when he wraps his arms around her waist.

Steve shakes his head and gives her a crooked grin. "I don't know, but knock it off," he says lightly. "M' takin' you out when we're back in New York. Count on that."

She feels herself relax and the smile on her face turns flirty. "Can't wait. Thank you—for everything. I had so much fun. And I'm pretty damn glad my truck broke down."

He chuckles at that and grabs the sides of her face, pulling her into a long kiss that she feels from the top of her head all the way to the tips of her toes. She's dizzy from it when he lets her go. "Thank _you_, Darcy," he murmurs. "This was the best weekend I've ever had."

"All right, soldier. You need to get going."

"Yeah," he nods and slowly unwinds his arms from around her to climb on his bike. She slides on behind him and folds her arms around his waist.

Steve takes her back to the garage and doesn't turn off the engine. He needs to get going and she knows that; there's no point in prolonging this goodbye. She'll see him in a month or so and in the meantime there are more adventures to be had for her trip. She presses her lips against the back of his neck, grinning when goose bumps prickle his skin, and slides off the back of his bike. She slings her bag across her body and kisses him goodbye. "Be safe. I'll see ya soon, Steve."

"See ya soon, Darcy," he grins and kisses her once more. She backs up and lifts a hand, watching him drive away.

* * *

The Quinjet's waiting on him when he arrives in Dallas and he grabs his bags off the back of his bike and hurries on board. "Natasha," he grins, nodding slightly as he skirts past the woman to stow his gear.

"James, your boyfriend is here," she calls dryly into the cockpit. Steve snorts out a laugh and turns back, arching an eyebrow at her. "You stopped returning his texts and he was very annoying all weekend."

Bucky emerges from the cockpit and smirks at her. "Worth it for all the ways you shut me up, too, Natalia," he winks.

"She's gonna kick your ass and 'm gonna laugh mine off watching," Steve laughs.

"I know that look," Bucky says pointedly. "You got laid."

Steve looks down at his boots and scrubs a hand over his jaw, unable to fight off the grin that twitches across his face.

"I fuckin' knew it. Good for you."

His phone buzzes in his pocket and he sees a new message from Texas. He laughs and opens it up to read.

**Texas: **_For the record, I can hardly walk today. Worth it. Thank you for a great weekend. XO _

He grins again and Bucky snatches the phone from his hand, busting a gut when he reads the message.

"Holy shit, Rogers!" Bucky laughs.

"Holy shit, Rogers, what?" Tony asks as he approaches. "Tell me, tell me, tell me! I wanna know what's going on. Cap, buddy, you look—refreshed."

Bucky tosses the phone to Tony and lets him read Steve's message. Tony looks up in surprise at Steve and back down at the phone. He repeats this process a few times until Steve gets fed up and snatches the phone from his hand. "Well, I do declare, our Captain has taken a lovah," Tony drawls in a ridiculous southern accent.

"Get fucked," Steve grouses, shoving the phone back into his pocket.

"Sounds like you and Texas took damn good care of that already," Bucky snorts and Tony joins in, cackling. Even Natasha has an amused glint in her eye as her lips twitch. 

"Shut up," Steve bites out, but it fades into a laugh. "You jerks aren't ruining my good mood today." He turns and heads for his seat.

Tony grins. "I don't know about the rest of you, but I like Cap better after he's gotten some."

"Hold up, Cap got some?" Clint calls, head popping up over one of the seats.

"Welcome to the conversation, Robin Hood," Tony deadpans. "Did you make her call you Captain? Ooh, or Daddy?" There's a collective groan on board and Tony looks around, perplexed. "What?"

"Too far, man," Clint says.

"You always take it too far," Bucky agrees.

Steve just shakes his head. "I'm gonna go read the intel and then take a nap."


	6. Buried Under

Darcy gets to New York a week earlier than she had originally planned and she tries to tell herself it has nothing to do with her excitement over seeing Steve again, but she can barely even finish that thought before she calls herself a liar. There are a lot of things she needs to take care of before she gets too busy with her job, like unpacking and settling in, really making her apartment feel like home. She also wants the chance to be a tourist and get lost in her new city for a little while since she hasn't spent very much time here. All of that factored in to her decision to arrive ahead of schedule, not just him.

They've stayed in contact since parting ways in Texas via flirty texts and some casual conversations on the phone that were mostly innocent. Well, except for that one night he called while she was in Florida, said it was raining where he was and how that made him think of her. She had an ache for him between her legs as soon as she'd heard his deep voice on the line; long before he jokingly asked her what she was wearing and then he brought her off over the phone muttering explicitly filthy words into her ear. But that was just the once. The rest of the time they've been good and she can't decide whether to be proud of that or a little disappointed.

She gets a ton accomplished her first two days. Her small apartment is coming together nicely and she gets the entire thing cleaned from top to bottom and most of her things put away in a fashion she likes to call _orderly enough_. She even manages to carve out time to see some of the neighborhood and find the best takeout places.

There's a Thai place around the corner and she grabs dinner one night on her way back home. It's delicious and she swears she is going to become a regular, until she wakes up the next morning sicker than a dog and puking her brains out. Those takeout menus go straight into the circular file.

She spends the entire day in bed and with her head bent over the toilet. Thai food is _dead_ to her. When Steve calls that evening, she debates on not answering it because she's so miserable, but she thinks his voice might help take her mind off it for a minute or two.

"Hello?" she mutters.

"Darcy?" he asks. His voice low in her ear and it does sound good. "Are you okay? You sound terrible."

She closes her eyes against another wave of nausea and it manages to ebb away before she throws up all over her new comforter. "No," she whines miserably. "I'm sick."

"What's wrong?"

Darcy groans and takes a deep breath as her stomach rolls. "Pretty sure it's food poisoning. Evil Thai place around the corner."

"I'm sorry, doll. Do you need anything? I have to leave in a couple hours for a job, but I could bring you something on my way if you need it."

Her lips thin into a sickly smile at his offer. "That's sweet of you, but I would like for you to still want to date me when you get back, so you can't see me like this."

Steve chuckles and the sound of it is soothing in her ear. "I'll still want to," he insists. "Let me ask again, do you need anything?"

"No, but thank you anyway. How long are you gonna be gone?"

"Not sure. A week or two, probably," he answers.

"Well, someone has to make the world a safer place, right?"

"Yeah, I suppose so. I need to pack, but I wanted to see how you were. M'sorry you're so sick."

"Thanks," she rasps. "Be safe okay?"

"I will. Feel better, Darcy," Steve says. "I'll call you when I'm back."

"Sounds good. Bye, Steve."

"Bye, Darcy."

She hangs up the phone and springs out of bed to make a mad dash for the bathroom.

* * *

When she wakes up the next morning, she feels more like herself, but she's still so exhausted it feels like she got run over by a bus. She made it through the night without getting sick and slept for twelve hours, but she could probably sleep for twelve more without batting an eye. Darcy stands up to pad into the bathroom and her stomach betrays her immediately. It's mostly bile at this point and a lot of dry heaving; after yesterday there is nothing left to puke up. She wipes at her mouth with the back of her hand and looks in the cabinet under the sink for some Pepto. It's hidden behind a box of tampons and her hand freezes as she eyes the feminine products warily.

"No," she says aloud. Her voice echoes off the walls and she closes her eyes, trying to recall when her last period was. She pushes to her feet and rushes to grab her phone off the bed; there's an app on it to keep track of her cycles. Her finger hovers over the button a moment before she opens the app.

Just as she feared, she skipped her period in August. Her last one was at the beginning of July and two weeks later was when she'd met Steve. And had sex. Lots and lots and _lots_ of sex.

White hot panic courses through her as she hurries to throw on some clothes and get down to Duane Reade for a pregnancy test. She stubs her toe in her haste to get on her shoes. "Shit!" she yells and starts to cry as she hops pathetically around her apartment.

* * *

Darcy puts five boxes of pregnancy tests in her basket because those things are wrong sometimes and if her life is about to be irrevocably changed, she doesn't want to rely on the results from just _one_. She needs substantial proof. She also buys a bottle of ginger ale and some Gatorade since she's going to have to pee a whole fucking lot to take all of those tests.

The clerk ringing up her merchandise is a middle-aged woman who looks like she's seen her share of hard living over the years—_rode hard and put away wet _springs to mind—and Darcy feels a little judged by her, if she's being honest. And fuck this lady, okay? For all she knows this is a blessed occasion in Darcy's life and she's _excited_ about the prospect of having a baby.

Yeah, she's absolutely fucking _not_. She's terrified and now that she thinks about it that probably reads on her face like a neon sign.

She spends an exorbitant amount of money for sticks she's going to pee on, but if by some miracle she ends up not being pregnant, it'll seem like chump change compared to the cost of raising a baby in New York fucking City. Darcy smiles wanly and nods when the clerk tells her to have a nice day.

* * *

She chugs the Gatorade and reads the instructions on the box. In an effort to save time and make less of a mess, she pees in a cup and sticks five pregnancy tests strip down into it. Her phone beeps with a message as she's reaching for it to set the timer. It's from Steve. _Hope you're feeling better. See you soon._

The timing of that message should be hilarious and it probably would be if it was happening to someone else instead of her. Fuck. She sets the timer for two minutes and prays to every higher being she can think of for the tests to be negative.

Two minutes feel like an eternity and she jumps when the alarm goes off. She quickly says another silent prayer and picks up one of the tests. There are two pink lines indicating a positive result in the window and her heart constricts. She takes a deep breath and forces herself to look at another one. This time it's a plus sign. The other three are all positive, too, and that's the moment she knows she can't hide from the facts anymore. The truth is staring back at her in pink and white lines and the reality of what that means breaks her heart into tiny pieces.

Darcy slides down the wall and slumps to the floor of her tiny bathroom. She hugs her knees to her chest as a sob escapes her lips and fat tears roll down her face.

* * *

The next few days she spends researching her options in the comforts of her apartment. She can't stop bursting into tears and throwing up, and she doesn't want to do either of those things in public. Morning sickness her ass; try all damn day sickness. She plugs the date of her last period into one of those online pregnancy calculators and figures out her due date is the first week of April. That means she's roughly eight weeks along. The pregnancy timeline with the pictures freaks her out; in just a manner of a few weeks it goes from looking like a group of cells, to a tadpole, to an alien, to the tiniest human baby and she's just not mentally prepared to deal with all of this right now. She closes out of that website pretty quickly.

Her two options, as she sees them, are having this baby and raising it or terminating the pregnancy. Other options exist, but she knows there's no way she can carry this baby inside of her for nine months and give it up for adoption for someone else to raise. She doesn't know the first thing about babies and she can't recall the last time she even held one, so how in the world is she supposed to be someone's mother? But, and it's a big but, every time her mind even _thinks _the word abortion her heart twists and her stomach sinks like a stone. She wonders if she ever really had a choice about all this to begin with.

Well, she did, and she chose not to keep her legs closed at the time. She feels an overwhelming urge to write a hate blog about the manufacturers of both birth control pills and Trojan condoms. Those fuckers have let her down epically.

There's a pang in her chest when she realizes that her mother must have gone through this exact same thing. She'd only been nineteen when Darcy was born, still practically a kid herself, and while it had to have been difficult raising a baby on her own, she'd done it and handled it with far more grace than Darcy's exhibiting now.

Darcy cries over her mom for the first time in ages. She needs advice right now that only a mother can give and the last time she checked her mom wasn't dishing that out from her place in the cemetery. There's always her dad, but _Jesus fuck, _he's going to go apeshit when he finds out.She closes her laptop and falls back against the pillows, staring at the ceiling trying to blink the tears away.

She's going to have this baby.

Now what?


	7. Chapter 7

Steve calls like he promised and Darcy can't bring herself to answer the phone. It's fucking cowardly, she knows, but she can't help it. He leaves her an upbeat voicemail that breaks her heart because he sounds so happy and sincere when he says he can't wait to see her and invites her over to his place tomorrow night so he can cook dinner. She highly doubts he'll feel the same way after she blows his world apart with the news she's pregnant with his child.

Darcy texts back later that she was in a meeting when he called but accepts his dinner invitation. It seems cruel of her to agree to the date they'd both been looking forward to for so long when things have changed so drastically. But this isn't a conversation to have over the phone or in a public place.

She throws herself into work the rest of the day and tries to keep her mind from imagining the look on Steve's face when he finds out he knocked her up. Eventually she has to close the door to her office; she doesn't want anyone to see her crying when she's only just started the job.

* * *

"Why d'ya look so dopey today?" Bucky asks the second they're out of the debriefing room. "Fury usually annoys the piss outta you."

Steve shrugs his shoulders and continues walking down the hall, his lips twitching into a grin as they round the corner. "Can't a guy jus' be in a good mood, Buck?" he asks, flicking his eyes over towards his friend.

Bucky gives him a sideways look that Steve's been familiar with since the 30's, full of suspicion, assuming Steve must have something up his sleeve. Bucky was usually right on the money back then and he is right now. "A guy, sure. But not you. Not during and after a three-hour debriefing with Fury and Hill after bein' gone for two weeks on a mission. Thought they were gonna send you down to medical at one point to have your head examined you were so goddamn chipper. "What gives?"

Steve fishes the keys to his motorcycle from his pocket and spins them around once on his index finger. "Gotta date tonight."

Bucky cracks a smile. "Yeah, who with?"

He's so excited to see Darcy again that it's all Steve can do to keep his face splitting in two when he grins. "Texas."

"Oh, really?" Bucky draws out slowly, with far more syllables than necessary. "You gonna fall off the grid again or will you two be coming up for air this time?

Memories of their weekend flood his mind and warmth slides lazily up his spine making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. It's a first date and sex isn't on his agenda for the evening. That doesn't stop him from thinking about having more sex with her, not when he knows how great it is. "It's just a date, Bucky."

"Sure it is, punk," Bucky snorts, clapping Steve on the shoulder.

Steve rolls his eyes, but can't tamp down the smile on his lips. "Go bug someone else, ya jerk."

"Think I will. Nat was makin' eyes at me during the debriefing and I want to reap the benefits of that," Bucky says with a lecherous grin. "Have fun, play safe!" he says and hurries down the hallway.

Shaking his head, Steve walks quickly for the exit. He has just enough time to go home and shower before making dinner for Darcy.

* * *

Darcy takes a cab to his place in Brooklyn and spends the entirety of the ride practicing what she wants to say when she sees him. Everything sounds like garbage in her head and she doesn't know how the hell she's supposed to tell this man she spent one weekend tangled around that she's pregnant. She tried Google but that didn't yield anything helpful.

She's standing on the bottom step of his building trying to muster the courage to walk up the rest and press the button so he can buzz her in. After a few deep breaths she decides she's not getting any less pregnant and it's time to face the music.

She holds down the button for his apartment and his voice sounds on the intercom a minute later.

"Darce?"

"Yeah. It's me," she says, heart twisting again when the buzzer sounds knowing she's only going inside to destroy him.

Darcy climbs the stairs to the third floor. She doesn't get the opportunity to stall longer because his door opens as soon as she rounds the corner and he's leaning on the doorjamb with a brilliant smile on his handsome face. It's possible she forgot just how good looking he is since leaving Texas. The man in front of her is even better than she remembers. Gorgeous, really. He looks so genuinely happy to see her, and for just one quick second she allows herself to forget, wishing she was here for their first date as planned. She smiles back at him. "Hi," Darcy greets softly.

"Hi," Steve repeats and steps forward to wrap her up in a tight hug. Darcy hugs him back, breathing in the scent of laundry detergent and cologne. "I'm so happy to see you," he says against her hair, and her eyes sting with the threat of tears.

"You'll probably change your mind about that in a minute," she murmurs against his shoulder and drops her hands to her sides.

Steve steps back and his brow furrows when he looks down at her face. "Darcy, what's wrong?"

She shakes her head and walks around him into his apartment. This isn't a conversation for the hallway. He closes the door and lays a broad hand on her shoulder, and she tenses up beneath his touch. Swallowing hard, she turns around and instantly notices the concern on his face as worried blue eyes flicker over her.

"Are you hurt?" he asks.

Darcy shakes her head again. "I'm so sorry," she whispers, pressing her lips together tightly as fresh tears well up in her eyes. She folds her arms around her stomach and looks away, blinking rapidly trying to keep the tears from falling.

"You're sorry for what?" His voice is gentler now. He's trying to make eye contact with her, but she keeps avoiding it. "Darcy, what—"

"I'm pregnant," she says quietly. Steve sucks in a breath and it feels like he takes all the oxygen with him when he does. The tears fall then and she forces herself to meet his eyes. He's holding it together far better than she is, but he looks shell-shocked. Not that she blames him. "Steve, I'm so sorry."

* * *

Darcy's words hit him with the metaphorical weight of Thor's hammer and they turn over and over again in his head as his brain tries to wrap around and make sense of them. _Pregnant. _His chest feels the way it used to before the serum when his asthma would wreak havoc on his body, making it nearly impossible to breathe. Steve scrubs his hands over his face and he just stands there, stupidly blinking at her while she's completely vulnerable in front of him, tears spilling down her cheeks and her arms wrapped around her middle like they're the only thing holding her together. She sniffles and worries the corner of her top lip between her teeth. He blows out a ragged breath and runs a hand over the back of his head. "Are you okay?" he asks, his voice raspy. He clears his throat and swallows hard, trying to find the right words to say.

She lifts one shoulder and lets it drop carelessly. "Can we sit?"

Steve nods and leads her over to the couch, his heart knocking hard against his ribs. "Do you need anything? Water?" he asks when she sits down.

"No," she mumbles.

He sits beside her on the couch, angling his body so he can look at her. "When—" he clears his throat again. "When did you find out?"

She whimpers and swipes at the tears on her face. "Last week. Turns out it wasn't food poisoning after all. And before you ask if I'm sure, I took five tests and they were all positive. It's also your baby, if you want to question that, too."

Steve narrows his eyes and feels his jaw tighten. "I'm not doubting you, Darcy. I just—need a minute here."

Darcy covers her face with her hands and rests her elbows on her knees. "I'm sorry. I've had a week to process already. I know this is shocking news." She turns watery eyes on him and her face crumples; it breaks his heart. "I'm so sorry," her voice breaks.

"Quit apologizing," he orders quietly. "You didn't get pregnant by yourself." He doesn't know what to say. His head is a riot of thoughts and words and noise, and he can't make sense of any of them. He mimics her pose and rests his elbows on his knees, raking his fingers through his hair.

She sniffles beside him again. "I've thought about it constantly and—"she trails off. Steve ticks up a questioning eyebrow. "I've decided to keep the baby and raise it."

Steve's stomach lurches at the thought that she wouldn't and his eyes narrow. "You thought about not keeping it?" His voice sounds foreign and creaky to his ears.

"Yes," she answers flatly, looking down and picking at the hem of her shirt. "No." She huffs out a breath. "Not seriously. Every time I even _thought _the word abortion I felt sick about it. I'm sorry if that's what you'd rather I do, but I can't do it. Just—you—you're not obligated, okay?" She shifts on the couch and angles her head, meets his eyes once more. "That's really all I came here to tell you. You are certainly welcome to be a part of the baby's life, but if you don't want to I—"

"Stop it!" he barks and Darcy flinches. "Don't sit there and tell me I'm not obligated to care for my child, Darcy. I know we don't know each other all that well, but do you really think that little of me?" He's angry now—not about the pregnancy, but that she's trying to let him off the hook and for thinking he'd want to be.

"You're right, we don't know each other. That's why I'm trying to make this easier for you," Darcy cries.

"So you can make it harder on yourself?" he snaps. "Jesus Christ." He scrubs at his face again, as if that will somehow put the right words into his mouth, but all he tastes is anger and confusion. "I didn't know my father at all, Darcy. He died when I was a baby and my mother died when I was still a kid. My child is going to have both parents." He feels sick and angry, utterly lost over finding out about the baby in one breath and possibly being cut out in the next. His head is spinning so fast he can hardly see straight. Steve closes his eyes, takes deep, measured breaths and clenches and unclenches his fingers.

Darcy bursts into sobs. "I didn't—Steve, I'm sorry."

He feels like a real fucking asshole now. Yelling at the woman carrying his child is a new low. Steve opens his eyes and feels completely helpless seeing the tears falling furiously down over Darcy's red cheeks. He scoots closer and wraps his arms around her because she looks like she needs it and he knows he does. "Shh," he murmurs against her hair. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Darcy turns towards him and buries her face against his chest, tears soaking through his shirt. "We'll figure it out, okay?" She lets out a hiccupping sob and nods almost imperceptibly. He smoothes a hand down her hair and holds her a little tighter. "We'll figure it out."


	8. Storm Warning

Steve's exhausted and completely distracted the next day. His mind is on Darcy and the baby she's carrying and he hasn't thought about anything else since she told him the news. How could he possibly? Once he'd gotten her to calm down and quit crying, they'd had a pretty stilted conversation about what happens next. She told him he could come with her to the first doctor's appointment next week if he wanted, but that she was fine to go alone. He told her he'd be there. Darcy left pretty quickly after that because she was tired and smell of the forgotten dinner burning on the stove made her sick. But she promised to meet up with him today so they could talk.

"Where the hell are you today, punk?" Bucky asks, and Steve startles from his perch on the counter in Tony's lab. Tony's doing some work on Bucky's cybernetic arm to repair the damage inflicted on their last mission.

His head falls back with a thump against the metal cabinet. "Nowhere," he lies. "Just tired."

Bucky's answering grin is lightning quick. "Yeah? Your date wear you out last night?"

Tony perks up and stops his work. "Hold it. Cap had a _date_?"

"Mmhmm," Bucky nods. "How'd it go?"

Steve's teeth gnash together and his fingers flex tightly around the edge of the counter. "Not the way I hoped," he clips, giving Bucky a stern warning look.

"Well, 'scuse me for askin' like a good friend," Bucky shrugs.

"What's the matter, Rogers? Didn't get your dick wet last night?" Tony asks, a wicked grin shooting across his face.

"Fuck off, Stark," Steve grouses.

"So no, then?" Tony deadpans and turns his attention back to Bucky's arm.

The door to the lab hisses open and the click of high heels marching purposefully across the concrete floor echoes through the room. Bucky nudges Steve's knee and waggles his eyebrows. Steve's view is obstructed from where he's sitting, not that he cares about some girl Bucky finds attractive right now. He's got bigger problems.

"I have a bone to pick with you," a woman snaps, and Steve freezes when he instantly recognizes the voice as Darcy's. There's a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as he recalls their conversations in Texas.

Darcy came to New York to work for her dad. If she's in here, then that means—_No. _

"I didn't do it," Tony says dryly, inspecting the modifications on Bucky's arm.

Darcy marches over and plucks the tool from Tony's hands, dropping it on the counter with a clang. "Excuse us," she tosses to Bucky, turning heated eyes to Tony. Hands fisted on her hips, she starts tapping the toe of her blue high heel on the floor until Tony shrinks slightly beneath the glare. "Yes, you damn well did do it. This is your company and the department you hired me to run is full of incompetent dickbags."

And there it is. The proof he needed. Darcy is Tony Stark's daughter. _Fuck._ Steve swallows the lump in his throat and watches their already messed up situation turn into a complete train wreck right before his eyes.

Tony grins fondly. "Well, kid, time to see what you're made of. See if you can whip those dickbags into shape. Oh! That's what she said. Am I right?" He looks excitedly around to everyone and holds up his hand for a high five which no one returns. "Rude."

"You're twisted, old man," she snorts irreverently, pushing his hand down. "Not that you understand anything about boundaries, but pro tip, don't make jokes like that in front of your daughter."

"Daughter?" Bucky says, surprised.

Darcy turns around, a wry smile on her lips that quickly falls away the moment she spots Steve. Her eyes round in shock and the color drains from her face.

"Guys, meet Darcy Lewis, my offspring," Tony says, wrapping his arm proudly around her shoulders.

Steve watches Darcy quickly mask the shock and she gives them both a polite, albeit strained, smile.

Bucky holds out his human hand. "James Barnes. Nice to meet you," he winks and shakes her hand.

"Yeah, you too," she replies absently, flicking her eyes over to Steve.

"How come you didn't tell us about your daughter, Stark?" Bucky asks Tony.

"Because the media vultures would never have left me alone and I didn't want that life," Darcy clips. "Tony Stark may enjoy the circus, but I do not."

"JARVIS warned me you were in a bad mood today," Tony mumbles.

Darcy glares over her shoulder at Tony before whipping her head around to glare at Steve. "And who the hell are you?" she snaps.

Steve hops off the counter and clears his throat. "Steve Rogers, ma'am," he says politely, offering her his hand. Darcy steps forward to shake it and once her back is to Bucky and Tony she hotly stares him down, squeezing his hand tightly in her grip. Despite the heated glare, her face is white as a sheet and he's really worried she's going to faint.

She lets go of his hand and folds her arms across her chest. "So," she starts, turning around again and eyeing Bucky, "judging by your arm and the work my dad is doing on it, I'm guessing you're not on Stark Industries payroll."

"Not exactly, doll face," Bucky smirks and is met with three equally unimpressed faces.

Darcy glances over at Steve and then back to her dad. "Who's that?" she asks with a jerk of her head. "Stark Industries or your merry band of superheroes?"

Tony laughs. "God, you are my kid. See, Cap? No one recognizes you without the red, white, and blue of Old Glory wrapped around your ancient ass!"

Her mouth falls agape as she puts two and two together, eyes open wide. "Jeeeeesus H. Christ! You're Captain America?" she croaks, whirling around to face Steve. Her eyes are searching his face, pleading with him to tell her it's not true.

Steve's jaw tightens and he wants to tell her how sorry he is she found out this way. He can't, though. Not without giving them away. He pastes on a polite smile instead. "Yes." Darcy presses her lips together tightly and gives him a curt nod in return.

"Nice to meet you," she says shortly.

Tony grins and claps his hands together once. "Well, now that everyone knows each other, you two get the fuck out so I can talk to my daughter."

"No," Darcy says, straightening her spine and turning towards Tony. "That—that won't be necessary. I have work to do." She jabs an index finger at his chest. "Tomorrow morning, ten o'clock. My office."

Steve watches the man's brows knit together in concern. "You feeling alright?" Tony asks her.

Darcy shakes her head. "Not the best. I think I'm coming down with that bug going around. Not all of us can be superheroes, you know," she grits out and sways a bit on her heels. Steve springs forward and steadies her before she falls. She tenses in his arms and shrugs him off. "I'm fine, _Captain_. Dad, can you go get me some water?"

"You bet, kid," Tony says, giving her another concerned look before walking out of the lab.

Bucky rolls over a chair for her to sit in. "Thank you," she mutters, plopping down into the chair and taking deep breaths.

"Are you okay?" Steve asks gently, kneeling down in front of her. Darcy shakes her head and squeezes her eyes closed. "Darcy—"

Darcy's eyes shoot open and she places her finger over her lips and points to the ceiling. _Not here_, she mouths silently. Steve nods and pushes himself back to standing.

Bucky flicks his eyes back and forth between them and Steve ignores him for the time being. His number one priority right now is Darcy. A close second is Tony and not dying at Iron Man's hand today.

Tony hurries back in with a bottle of water and hands it to Darcy. "Thanks." She unscrews the cap and takes a sip. After a few deep breaths in and out the color starts seeping back into her face. "Okay, I'm feeling better now."

"Just go home," Tony insists.

"No," she says flatly.

"Darcy," Tony sighs.

"_No. _I have too much work to do. I'm fine, promise." She pushes out of the chair and forces a smile. "See? I need to get back to my office. Thanks for the water." Darcy spares a glance at Steve and Bucky. "Nice to meet you both."

"You, too," Bucky replies while Steve can only stare.

"I'll walk you back," Tony says and the two walk out of the lab.

Steve sags back against the counter and rubs both hands over his face. Bucky kicks the toe of his boot with his and arches a questioning eyebrow. Steve shakes his head, eyes glancing to the ceiling.

* * *

Through Stark-inherited mulishness alone, Darcy manages to keep it together until her dad finishes making a fuss over her and finally leaves the office. The moment the door closes behind him, she rushes to the attached bathroom and retches into the toilet. Once she's finished, she brushes her teeth and returns to her desk.

Her head is a whirlwind of emotions and there's no way in hell she's getting any work done the rest of the day. Things were already bad enough when she was just pregnant with the baby of her three-night stand, but now she's reeling over the fact that she's sperminated with Captain America's patriotic spawn. Darcy doesn't know much about Captain America other than what she learned in elementary school and a bit of info gleaned from old film on propaganda she watched once in high school. Some things her father divulged, but most of that information she thinks is bullshit because he and Steve had gotten off on the wrong foot. She does know that he fought during WWII and was friends with her paternal grandpa. That makes him, technically, almost a hundred. This is another one of those situations where she'd laugh her ass off if it wasn't happening to her. How fucking small is the world anyway, she wonders, that she ends up meeting and fucking one of the Avengers in the middle of nowhere.

Jesus.

Her father's going to kill her. And probably Steve, too.

"Dammit, this is a mess," she mumbles, reaching for her cell phone.

* * *

Steve follows Bucky to the bowels of the parking garage beneath Stark Tower. Bucky pulls a pen from his pocket and lifts the cap off. "Radio scrambler," he explains. "Natasha gave it to me. The hell is going on? How do you know Tony Stark's daughter?"

He hesitates and scrubs a hand along his jaw. "Texas," Steve says.

"Wait—_she's _Texas?" His jaw drops open when Steve nods and then raucous laughter comes pouring out of his mouth. He laughs so hard that his entire body shakes and he becomes silent again. "You…fucked…Stark's…daughter," Bucky chokes out. "Christ, he's gonna kill you if he finds out."

"Bucky," Steve warns.

Bucky swipes at his eyes as his laughter dies down. "C'mon, this is hilarious. Can you imagine the stroke he'll have?"

"He's going to find out."

"Naw, doesn't have to," Bucky shrugs. "You two could sneak around for a while. That's fuckin' hot."

Steve heaves a frustrated sigh and runs his fingers through his hair. "Darcy's pregnant."

Bucky stops and blinks a few times. "What?" he asks soberly. "Shit, Steve. Seriously?"

"Told me last night," Steve mutters.

"Well, damn—how're you doin' with that?"

"Still tryin' to wrap my head around it."

"She keepin' it?" Bucky asks.

Steve's jaw tenses whenever he thinks about the possibility of her not. "Yes," he says adamantly. "Due in April. She's got a doctor's appointment next week."

"I don't know what to say," Bucky says honestly.

"Me neither," Steve counters and he's spared from having to try and come up with something because the timer runs out on the pen scrambler and their voices are being recorded again. His phone vibrates in his pocket and he pulls it out, reads the text from Darcy.

**Darcy: **_This is fucked up. Can you meet to talk?_

"I've gotta go. And Bucky?" he starts as he gives him a knowing look.

"Secret's safe with me."

"Thanks."

* * *

Darcy's sitting on a bench outside the diner where they agreed to meet picking at the chipped burgundy polish on her fingernails. Her face sours over how shitty they look and makes a mental note to get a manicure after work. A shadow looms over her and she startles, looking up to find Steve standing there. He at least has the decency to appear as nervous as she feels right now.

"Hi," he greets and motions for the door of the diner.

She shakes her head as she stands and feels nauseated again just thinking about it. "Can't. I was in there already and lasted about thirty seconds. I got a big ol' whiff of something greasy and disgusting and nearly threw up." Steve's lips thin into a straight line and he seems genuinely concerned about her. "I'm fine. My nose is just super sensitive to everything right now and morning sickness is sort of a misnomer. My variety is the all-day kind."

"I'm sorry," Steve says sincerely.

"Please stop apologizing to me," Darcy snaps. "It is what it is, okay? We just have to find a way to deal with it and each other—especially now."

She sees his jaw tighten and twitch as he bites back whatever words he had on his tongue and shoves his hands into his pockets. "Fine," he clips.

Darcy sighs because this isn't going well at all. "Sorry," she murmurs. "I'm sorry. I have a lot of mood swings right now. Violent ones. It's the hormones…and I suppose a little because of the Stark genes." She smiles crookedly and it draws a small chuckle from him. It's enough to diffuse the tension and hit the reset button.

"Want to walk through the park?" he asks and she nods. Steve's hand falls to the small of her back and he pulls her gently towards him when a man in a suit walking and texting nearly runs into her. His touch somehow feels both foreign and familiar, the heat of it leeching through the thin fabric of her silk blouse. She doesn't let herself read too much into it. He's a super soldier and a nice guy, and some asshole not paying attention nearly ran into his baby mama. That's all.

They walk a ways in not entirely comfortable silence until the crowd around them thins and Darcy points to a bench that's out of the way from lots of passersby. "So…" she starts when they sit.

"So…" he echoes, glancing sideways at her. "Tony Stark's daughter."

"Captain America," she mutters, scrubbing her hands over her face. "This is just—"

"Fucked up, you said. I don't disagree." Steve heaves a sigh and leans back against the bench. "When are you gonna tell him?"

"Can I wait until the baby's born?" Darcy asks warily and he huffs out a quick laugh.

"Don't think that'll work, Darcy."

"After my doctor's appointment, I guess. I want to make sure everything is okay first before we tell people." She sees his face pale a bit and his jaw is tense again. "I'm sure it is—okay I mean. I read that morning sickness and sore boobs are good signs that things are progressing smoothly and I've got both in spades." His eyes flick down quickly to her chest and she sees the tips of his ears redden before he meets her eyes again. "Sorry, no filter. I think waiting to tell people is still a good plan. No need to subject ourselves to a Tony Stark freakout unless absolutely necessary, you know?"

Steve snorts at that. "You've got a point. You gonna tell him before the wedding?"

Darcy slaps a hand on her forehead. "Oh, my god, I forgot all about that. How could I forget about their wedding? I'm forgetful as shit lately. Pregnancy brain…it's a thing." Silence fills the air between them again and Darcy frets about the bridesmaid dress that most likely won't zip up at the final fitting. "No. We should wait until they get back from their honeymoon."

"I'd like to be with you when you tell him."

"No," Darcy says flatly.

His eyebrows knit together and he has this line of tension between them that she wants to reach out and smooth away. "Darcy, this is my responsibility, too, and it's the right thing. Let me be there."

She shakes her head. "He'll kill you."

He rolls his eyes and if she's not mistaken his lips twitch in amusement. "No, he won't. He'll be pissed, but he won't kill me. He can't even hurt me unless he's suited up. We're friends now and—"

"Yeah?" she cuts him off. "And how long do you suppose that friendship will remain intact once he finds out you knocked up his daughter?"

"I don't really care if we stay friends or not," he snaps.

"But the team—"

"Darcy," he interrupts, "you and the baby are my top priority, not Tony Stark, not the Avengers. I don't give a good damn about anything else."

He says it with such certainty that it gives her pause and she lets his words rattle around in her head. She's thankful she's wearing sunglasses because her eyes burn with tears and she doesn't want to do that in front of him again.

"What'd I say wrong?" he asks quietly beside her, his expression helpless and endearing.

"Nothing," she insists, swiping at the traitorous tears that fall down her face despite ordering them to stay put. "It was the perfect thing to say, actually. God," she whines. "Pre-pregnancy I could count the number of times I cried in the last few years on one hand. I have given up counting now."

Steve reaches out and brushes away the tears on her cheek with his thumb. "I think that's pretty normal, especially given our…unique situation." The smile he gives her is mostly encouraging. "We need to get to know each other better, Darcy," he says softly and lets his hand drop away from her face.

"I agree," she murmurs. "Why don't you come over tonight and we'll talk some more?"

"Okay," he smiles again. "If you're hungry, tell me what won't make you sick and I'll pick that up on my way."

Darcy blows out a breath and smiles back. "You're sweet, Steve. Don't senior citizens eat at, like, 4:30 in the afternoon though?"

"Har har," he drawls, rolling his eyes as he pushes to his feet. He grins down at her and holds out his hands to help her up.

"But really, how old are you? A hundred?" she asks as they walk.

"Ninety-five, chronologically; physically, I'm twenty-nine."

She barks out a laugh. "So weird."

… … …

She does most of the talking on the way back and tells him about her job at Stark Industries. Steve's amused by the fact that she used to be a hacker, and he tells her she clearly inherited her father's intelligence.

They pass a hot dog cart and she gags when the scent hits her nostrils. "I am over this noise," she moans miserably as they round the corner.

"Wait here," Steve tells her and ducks into a candy store.

When he returns, he drops a white paper sack with the store's logo stamped on it into her hands. "I don't want candy," she grouses.

"They're lemon drops," he informs her. "I read that sour things can help ease the nausea."

A smile pulls at her lips. "When did you read that?"

Steve shrugs and stuffs his hands into his pockets again. "Last night—couldn't sleep. Try one; if they work I'll buy you a truckload of 'em. I just don't want you to be miserable." Darcy's face crumples again and he feels like he's trying to navigate a minefield. "God, don't cry," he pleads. "They're just lemon drops."

Darcy sniffles anyway and wraps him in a tight hug. "Thank you," she whispers against his shirt. She pulls away quickly and gives him a watery smile. "You're being really great about everything," she tells him and pops a lemon drop into her mouth.

"I'm trying," he says earnestly and he really hopes she knows that. He'll do anything to ensure the health and safety of his baby and that means taking care of Darcy.

"I know. Me, too."

He nods and brushes away a stray tear off her cheek again. They're gonna make this work somehow.


	9. Something To Talk About

Steve shows up at 7:00 on the dot with a paper bag from a deli around the corner tucked under his arm. Her nausea thankfully eased up a bit during the afternoon and she feels hungry for the first time in days. He hands over the bag and eyes her cautiously. Darcy laughs dryly and ushers him into her apartment. "This smells wonderful, Steve, thank you."

"You're welcome," he answers, a lopsided smile playing on his handsome face. "Feeling better I take it?"

"Mmm," she hums. "Much." She shuffles to her tiny kitchen and gets plates and bowls out of the cabinet. "The lemon drops worked wonders this afternoon, so thanks again for those."

He grins winningly at that. "I'm glad."

"Drink?" she asks and opens the refrigerator. "I've got beer, water, Gatorade, Coke."

"Beer's good." She twists the top off the bottle and hands it to him. "Thanks." Steve takes a sip and looks around the apartment before dropping down on one of the two barstools at the counter. "You've got a nice place here, Darcy."

Darcy smiles wryly and pours the soup into two bowls, plates their sandwiches. "I like it. Though it's probably not what you were expecting from Tony Stark's daughter, am I right?" she asks, sliding his food across the counter.

"I don't care about that stuff," he shrugs, and while that probably is true, Darcy fixes him with what she likes to call her _don't bullshit me_ expression. "Alright, not exactly. Figured Tony'd have you set up with a suite in the tower or a penthouse somewhere."

She sits down opposite him at the counter and slowly stirs the soup with her spoon. "Oh, believe me, if he had his way that's exactly where I'd be living. This," she gestures around the small space, "drives him insane." Steve's answering snort makes her grin. She knows what a handful her dad is, and since Steve is on his team, he's also well-versed.

"Is that by design? Driving Tony crazy, I mean?"

Darcy swallows her soup and shakes her head. "Nah, just an added bonus, I guess. I don't want to live off his money. I mean I _do_ live off his money through Stark Industries because I work there, but at least I've done something to earn it and not just because I'm his daughter, you know? Oh, my god, sorry," she says, raking a hand through her hair. "I ramble when I'm nervous."

Steve's eyes crinkle at the corners his lips are quirked in amusement. "You're cute when you're nervous."

She ignores that statement. And the accompanying butterflies in her belly. "I made a list!"

His brow arches curiously while he chews. "A list," he repeats behind his hand. "Of what?"

Darcy hops off the barstool and grabs the notebook she left setting on the coffee table. "I just thought of so many questions this afternoon and since pregnancy brain has rendered me stupid, I started writing them down."

"Pregnancy brain?" he asks laughingly.

She looks up from her notebook and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "You laugh, but it's _a thing_. I'm so forgetful lately and I've started misplacing things—pretty common amongst the pregnant set, apparently—but it's annoying.

Steve wipes his mouth with a napkin and leans forward to try and see her notebook. "What's on your list?"

"A fuckton of stuff," Darcy admits. "Like, when's your birthday? What year were you born? How'd you become Captain America in the first place?"

Steve smirks. "You mean to tell me you didn't hack into S.H.I.E.L.D.'s system for my file?"

Darcy shrugs and takes another bite of soup. "I considered it," she tells him honestly, "and could've had it in no time, but that seemed like a huge invasion of your privacy. And I'd rather hear it from you than from anything S.H.I.E.L.D. has to say about it."

"Fair enough," he says wryly and takes a bite of his sandwich. He swallows and runs a hand through his hair. "I was born July 4th, 1918."

"Shut your mouth," Darcy giggles, and Steve says nothing, just looks at her with raised brows. "You really were born on the Fourth of July?"

"Yes, I was." Darcy bites the inside of her cheek and snickers as she scribbles the answers on her list. "You really gonna write all my answers down?" he asks.

She puts her pen down and rests her elbows on the counter. "No, I'm not going to write everything down, but we're having a baby together, Steve. I want us to learn as much as possible about each other. We need to."

Steve takes a long pull off his beer and looks at her thoughtfully across the counter. "You're right," he finally says. "What's next?"

* * *

She asks what his life was like before becoming Captain America. There will always be that distinct line separating the before and after. So he tells her. His voice sounds wistful to his own ears when he starts talking about his mom, but the memories he carries are good ones despite his poor health back then and the way his mother had struggled to provide. There are tears in Darcy's eyes when he tells her about the pneumonia his mom couldn't shake and how he had a new home at the orphanage after that. "I'm sorry," she murmurs, and he shrugs. It is what it is.

Steve keeps talking, makes her laugh with tales of his and Bucky's shenanigans as teenagers, makes her shake her head and laughingly ask if he had any sense continually going after guys twice his size. "You sound just like Bucky," he says fondly.

"I think I would have liked this Bucky character," Darcy smiles, propping her chin up on her hand.

"Dames—women—always did. But you already met him," Steve tells her with a crooked smile. "This morning."

Her brows shoot up. "Wait—the guy with the arm?"

"That's him."

Darcy blows out a breath. "This tale just keeps getting stranger by the minute."

Steve huffs out a laugh. "You have no idea, Darce," he says candidly.

"Tell me more. How'd you even _become_ Captain America anyway?"

He tells her that story, too. The several failed attempts at trying to get into the Army, Bucky getting his orders and dragging him out on a double date to the Stark Expo, and Darcy cuts him off right before he tells her about Dr. Erskine.

"Those girls were idiots."

"'Scuse me?"

"I said those girls were idiots for ignoring you."

Steve blinks at her. "I didn't look like this back then."

"Well, yeah, I know that the serum made you big and strong, but your face couldn't have changed that much. And did these morons even bother talking to you before writing you off?"

"Bucky was there in uniform, so no," he tosses back.

Darcy waves her hand like he's full of it. "I need a visual. You have a picture anywhere?"

Steve grabs his wallet and pulls out a picture of him and Bucky. "I'm the little guy," he says dryly, handing her the picture.

"You're a smartass," she says with a smirk on her lips and holds up the picture for a closer look. She doesn't react the way he expects. In fact, she doesn't react much at all, just keeps looking up at him and back down at the picture. "Handsome," she says finally and sets the picture down.

"Yeah, Bucky had all the—"

"I'm talking about you," Darcy smiles warmly and swirls her spoon around in her bowl. "You still had the same kind and handsome face." Color seeps into his cheeks and a smile ghosts over his lips as he lifts the beer bottle to his mouth. "Are you blushing right now?" she teases.

"No," he answers too quickly. He doesn't know why he is. Maybe in part because no woman ever referred to him as handsome _before_ the serum and there's something special about this one telling him differently.

"You are," Darcy laughs and nudges his calf with her bare foot under the counter.

Steve's eyes narrow slightly but he chuckles at her. His cheeks stain even darker and her grin grows a little brighter. "Please stop."

"Are you serious right now?" she asks, a bit incredulous. "After all the filthy things you said and _did _to me in bed, you're blushing like a virgin on prom night over being called handsome?"

"Shut up, Darce," he laughs and grabs her notebook. "What else is on here?"

"No, give that back!" Darcy insists, holding out her hand.

Steve picks up his beer again and scans the list, focusing on one line that had been scribbled out. He makes out '_super cock?_' and chokes on his beer. "What the hell kind of question is that?" he asks once he stops coughing.

Darcy jerks the notebook out of his hands and pushes up her glasses. "A perfectly valid one. How else do you explain the fact that while we were in the shower you came twice and continued fucking me?"

"Darcy!" he croaks, rubbing the back of his neck.

"At one point I started wondering if you were a porn star or something."

He closes his eyes and that turns out to just be a terrible idea all around since all he can picture is Darcy pressed against the shower tiles, her legs locked around his waist, steam billowing around them, her cries echoing off the walls as she came apart and scratched her nails down his back. When he reopens them, Darcy's cheeks are flushed and her eyes are a little heavy and glassy. Steve can't help but feel at least a little proud over that. "That was fun." Her mouth falls open and she blinks owlishly back at him. "Now who's blushing?"

"You're kind of an ass, Steve Rogers," she says flatly, and he shrugs, chuckling under his breath.

* * *

"Okay, don't laugh when I ask this, but…do you have super sperm?"

He barks out a laugh anyway and earns himself a kick to the shin under the table. "I'm sorry, it just sounds funny."

"Yeah, well, so does 'Captain America's my baby daddy' but them's the breaks. Seriously, Steve. Do you have super swimmers or is this just a birth control malfunction?"

The look he gives her is sympathetic. "Birth control malfunction."

"Are you sure? The pill is 99.9% effective and we used condoms."

"Not in the shower," he reminds her and clears his throat. "Either time." She averts her eyes and blushes again. "If I did have, you know—"

"Super sperm," she supplies.

Steve scratches his jaw, shifts in his seat. "Yes. I never would've gone without a condom and put you at risk like that."

"Figures I'd be the point one percent that gets pregnant on the pill. Though I suppose that doesn't seem so far-fetched if there are superheroes in the world and I'm having a baby with one." She sits up straighter and her eyes go round. "Oh, Jesus! Is the baby going to be super?" That possibility hadn't occurred to her until now.

"I honestly don't know," he answers matter-of-factly.

"Oh my god!" Darcy cries. "I'm going to give birth to Bam Bam."

Steve's brows knit together in confusion. "What?"

"Rubble? From The Flintstones—which of course you don't know what I'm talking about because you were born in 1918 and then spent seventy years doing time as an iceberg. I doubt cartoons from the sixties made the list of things you needed to catch up on. Long story short, he was a really strong baby. So, it's _possible_ the baby could be…_enhanced_?"

He's quiet for a long moment, and Darcy's eyes frantically search his face for some kind of answer. "I guess it's possible. Though I'd rather that than the alternative. With my old health problems I just—" he trails off with a quiet sigh. "Hope it's healthy," he says finally. "That's my biggest worry."

Darcy nods. "Mine, too," she says softly and reaches across the countertop to lay her hand on top of his. "We're both strong and healthy and this baby is going to be just fine. Let's focus on that."

Steve turns his hand over and wraps his fingers around hers, his thumb tracing patterns against the inside of her wrist. "Okay," he says after a moment, his eyes lifting to meet hers. "Okay."

Her pulse skitters and part of her wishes the counter wasn't between them so she could just lean into him for a hug. They both could use one, but standing up and bridging the gap between them seems awkward and too much, so she remains seated. Darcy gives his hand a light squeeze and slips it out from under his so she can eat the rest of her dinner.

* * *

They move to the couch after dinner and talk some more. The conversation is easy and comfortable and just _nice. _He'd been a little worried after their walk in the park earlier in the day that maybe whatever easiness they'd had between them in Texas was gone.

"Is that your mom?" he asks after a bit, gesturing to a framed black and white photo on the end table.

Darcy smiles and hands him the frame. "It is."

The woman in the photo is almost identical to Darcy—same dark hair, blue eyes, full lips, slightly different nose. "She's beautiful. You look just like her."

"Thank you," she says, voice tight with unshed tears. "My mom was the best. I wish she was still here to talk to about all of this, you know?"

Steve gives her a small, sympathetic smile and nods. "Yeah. "Do you want to talk about her?"

Darcy shakes her head. "Not tonight."

"Whenever you want to or need to—" he offers.

"Thank you," Darcy murmurs softly and focuses on her wringing hands. After a beat she lifts her head and meets his eyes. "She would have really liked you."

"My ma would've liked you, too," Steve says and Darcy smiles. "At least our baby will have Grandpa Tony," Steve adds with a smirk, and Darcy throws back her head and cackles, the sound reverberating through the small apartment.

"Jesus, my dad is going to lose his fucking mind over that title."

Steve snorts out a laugh and shakes his head at the thought of Tony Stark being his child's grandfather. He still hasn't fully wrapped his head around the fact that he's going to be a dad. Darcy yawns hugely and rubs her eyes. "I should get goin' so you can get some sleep."

She nods and unfolds her legs to stand up. "I can barely make it past 9:00 these days. I'm such an old lady. Oops, no offense," she grins and punches him lightly on the arm.

"Are you calling me old or a lady?" Steve asks laughingly, walking backwards towards the door.

"Take it however you want to, Steve," Darcy answers impishly. "Thanks for coming over tonight. And for feeding me."

Steve's lips twitch into a smile. "You're welcome, thanks for inviting me. We needed this."

"I agree," she says softly and adjusts her glasses.

"I'll call you tomorrow," Steve promises.

Darcy nods. "Okay." She closes the gap between them and wraps her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against his chest as she hugs him tightly.

Steve folds his arms around her and drops his lips to the top of her head while they hold each other for a while. It's nice, having her in his arms like this. A lot better than nice, actually—it's great—somehow feeling both familiar and brand new. He isn't quite so scared about the baby now, even if they still have a lot to figure out; he thinks Darcy can calm him in some areas and he can do the same for her in others, and together they'll be okay with everything in the long run.

She pulls back first, sliding her hands around to rest on his waist as she tips her head back to look up at him, lips ticking into a crooked half smile. There's a part of his brain yelling at him to not to be an idiot, that they shouldn't be doing this now, but he deliberately ignores it and lowers his head, pressing soft kiss against her lips. Darcy leans into the kiss, fingers curling around his shirt. Steve slips his hand into her hair to pull her closer, his tongue teasing the seam of her lips. She lets out a surprised squeak and pushes him away. He's a fucking moron. "I'm sorry," he breathes out and takes a step back.

"No, I'm sorry," Darcy insists. "I panicked. Jesus," she huffs, scrubbing her fingers down her face. "We shouldn't. I want to. At least a part of me does." She lets out this crazed laugh that ends on a sob and his stomach twists when he sees her eyes fill with tears.

"Darce," he whispers helplessly.

"Damn hormones. I'm such a mess," she cries, her voice thick and strained. "This is all just too much for me to handle and most of the time I feel like I'm just barely holding it together to make it through the day. And tonight was so great, talking, getting to know more about you, it just made me feel better about everything and—I don't know." She throws up her hands and lets them fall down to her sides again, and she starts pacing the floor. "I don't…I'm just…God, I am so attracted to you and it would be too easy to fall into something because of that and the baby."

Steve clears his throat and watches her go back and forth across the small living room. "Darcy," he says more surely this time.

Darcy stops pacing and turns to face him. "The baby has to come first. And it…" she sighs, "…he or she needs both of us. I can't risk us jumping into something and fucking things up between us before the baby is born. We're tied together now, Steve, and I think—I think we should just be friends."

He takes everything she's just thrown at him into consideration and while there's a part of him that wants to convince her otherwise, he knows she makes a very valid point. They're still just getting to know each other and despite an obvious physical attraction, they should work on building a stronger foundation first for the sake of their child. "You're right," he says after a beat. Steve closes the gap between them and swipes his thumbs through the tears on her cheeks. "Stop crying. Please."

Her eyes flick to the floor and she nods her head, sniffling quietly. Steve blows out a breath and pulls her into another hug that she eagerly returns. "M'sorry," she mutters into his chest. "I wish things were different. The whole rest of the summer I let myself think 'what if' but it was never like this."

Tears soak through his shirt and he rubs her back gently as he tries to get her to calm down and stop crying. "Me, too. S'okay, Darcy. We're gonna figure all of this out and we'll be fine. Promise."

She sniffles against his shirt and nods before extracting herself from his arms. "Okay," she blows out, taking off her glasses to wipe her eyes. "We will. You're right." Darcy gives him a watery smile and runs a hand over her hair once before turning to leave.

His hand hesitates on the doorknob and he turns his head. "I'll call you tomorrow." Darcy just nods again and lifts a hand to wave as he walks out the door.

Steve can hear her crying through the door as soon as it closes behind him and he has to force himself to keep walking.


	10. I Know You're Gonna Be There

The alarm clock wails at 7:00 and Darcy glares balefully at the thing before smacking the snooze button. She'd finally fallen asleep a few hours ago after constant tossing and turning to get comfortable and worrying about today's doctor's appointment. Not to mention countless trips to the bathroom. According to the pregnancy calendar app on her phone, the baby is only the size of a kumquat and weighs less than a quarter of an ounce, so how something so small makes her have to pee a hundred times a day is beyond her. She lays still, eyes closed, and takes a few slow, deep breaths to calm the churning in her stomach. It doesn't always keep the morning sickness at bay, but she'd rather give it the ol' college try than pray to the porcelain god. Her alarm sounds again and she turns it off this time, carefully sitting up and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She sits there a moment longer and thinks she's in the clear this morning. That is until her heightened sense of smell detects the breakfast her upstairs neighbor is cooking. "Fuck!" Slapping a hand over her mouth, she sprints to the bathroom.

After her shower, she nibbles on a piece of dry toast and sips from a bottle of ice cold water. Breakfast of champions it isn't, but it's the only thing she can keep down in the mornings these days. She takes her time with her makeup, carefully concealing the dark circles under her eyes that the lack of sleep left. Steve's worried enough about her as is and she doesn't want him to make a fuss before the appointment. It's nice that he's so concerned and he's been sweet about it, but with her crazy, hormone-induced mood swings, she wants to tell him to knock it the fuck off sometimes. Sighing, she scolds herself for being mean and sweeps blush across her cheeks.

Darcy tries three different pairs of jeans from her closet and when none of them button comfortably, she wills herself not to dissolve into tears and ruin her makeup. "Like you didn't realize this would happen, dumbass," she mutters, throwing them to the floor in a huff and reaching for black leggings instead. She already had to buy new bras to wrangle her _size enormous_ pregnant boobs and it looks like she'll have to add shopping for new pants to her list. She pairs the leggings with a long purple cardigan that hides her tummy and tall brown boots. No one else knows about the pregnancy yet and she needs to keep it that way until after her dad and Pepper's wedding. The last thing she wants to do is ruin their special day with the news they're about to become grandparents to Captain America's baby.

She lightly sprays on the one perfume that doesn't make her gag and wraps a gray chevron infinity scarf around her neck as a knock sounds on the door. With a glance at her watch, she sees that Steve is precisely on time again. Nerves over the doctor's appointment are swirling wildly in her stomach and she has to close her eyes and breathe deeply to keep from tossing her cookies again. Darcy glances at her reflection in the mirror and Steve knocks again, more insistently than the first. She hurries to open it before he pulls some big damn hero move like kicking the damn door down just to make sure she's okay. Steve smiles at her when the door opens. It doesn't quite reach his eyes and she knows he's nervous about today, too. Oddly, that makes her feel so much better about her own feelings. "Hi," she smiles softly up at him.

"Hi," Steve says, holding up a cup from her favorite coffee shop in the neighborhood. "Brought you some tea."

"Thanks." She takes the cup and gives it a tentative sniff before sipping slowly. Steve's eyeing her cautiously, and she tamps down on the desire to roll her eyes at him, choosing instead to give him a tight smile. "Steve, can you please not stare at me like some wild animal exhibit at the zoo? I'm not going to jump through the glass and shred your stupidly handsome face with my claws," Darcy says through her teeth.

Steve opens his mouth and just as quickly closes it again, nodding curtly. "I've got a car downstairs. You ready to go?"

Darcy heaves a heavy sigh, her eyes falling shut. "I'm sorry. This hormonal rollercoaster is a cruel bitch and I don't mean to take it out on you. Promise."

"S'okay," he shrugs. "We should probably get goin' in case we get stuck in traffic."

"Yeah." She grabs her bag and sunglasses and locks the door behind her.

Things are fine until they get outside and Darcy doesn't see any signs of a cab waiting for them. The irritation bubbles up inside like a pressure cooker. "Are you fucking kidding me?" she snaps, stomping her foot on the sidewalk. "The damn cab just left?"

"Darcy," Steve says sharply, and she whirls around to glare at him. That look quickly fades into a smile when she sees him smirking and holding a set of keys.

"Oh. You have a car?" she asks as he unlocks and opens the passenger side door of the shiny black sedan.

"Nah, I borrowed it," Steve answers and opens the door for her.

Darcy sits down in the front seat and looks up apologetically at Steve. "Are you ready to hurl me off the Brooklyn Bridge yet? I don't think I could blame you if you wanted to."

"Dunno, it's still pretty early," he deadpans, and Darcy barks out a laugh. Steve's answering smile reaches his eyes this time and it puts her at ease.

"Pretty and he makes jokes," she says laughingly.

Steve chuckles and walks around to the driver's side.

* * *

The ride to the doctor's office is relatively silent, save for a couple of attempts at nervous conversation and the radio playing lowly on a non-descript station. Steve pulls the car into an empty space in the attached garage and his stomach is a mess of knots; he can only imagine what Darcy must be feeling right now, the cloud of the unknown hanging heavily over both of them. "You ready?" he asks, voice shaky.

Darcy fiddles with the plastic tab on the lid of her tea, eyes cast down, and nods. "Yeah," she answers softly. "Yeah, let's go."

He reaches for her hand on the elevator and wraps his fingers around hers, giving them a reassuring squeeze and not knowing exactly who it is he's trying to comfort more. The elevator doors ding and slide open on the fifth floor of the medical center and Darcy pulls her hand away. Steve follows her off the elevator and down the hall towards a frosted glass door that reads _Lupton and Associates – Women's Health_.

She hesitates outside the door and looks over her shoulder at him, a sad smile on her unpainted lips. "Thank you for being here," she murmurs. "I can't imagine how much worse this would be on my own." Her eyes shine, and Steve's heart twists in his chest, that seemingly ever present feeling of helplessness against her tears.

"You don't have to thank me, Darcy," he says, laying a hand on her shoulder. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be."

Darcy snorts. "You're a liar, but thanks just the same." She takes a deep breath and reaches for the handle on the door. "I'm probably going to need you to hold my hand. Okay?"

Steve nods and squeezes her shoulder. "Okay." He opens the door and walks in behind her to the cheerfully painted waiting area.

Darcy checks in with the receptionist and is handed a clipboard with several sheets of paper and a pen, and told to bring the forms back once they're filled out. Steve leads them to a bank of empty chairs and sits down. As is habit for him wherever he goes, regardless of the fact that he's not on a mission, he scopes out the room, taking note of the number of doors and windows and people. His attention is grabbed by a married couple sitting across the waiting room, the happy looks on both of their faces as the man rubs his hand over his wife's heavily pregnant belly and whispers something that makes her laugh. The woman glances up, and Steve forces a polite smile on his face before quickly looking away.

There's a television playing a video of some 'expert' named Heidi Murkoff giving advice to parents about their toddler's sleeping habits and how to establish a bedtime routine. Up till now the baby has seemed a bit abstract, if he's being honest. Obviously he knows that Darcy will become visibly pregnant and their son or daughter isn't going to remain a baby forever, but seeing the other women in the room in various stages of pregnancy and watching this little girl on screen toddle around squealing has him crashing hard into a vat of reality. His stomach in knots and he feels as overwhelmed now as he did when Darcy broke the news about the baby in the first place.

Darcy huffs beside him, and quickly follows that up with a whimper and that's all it takes to snap him back to the present. "What's the matter?" Steve asks quietly, turning in his seat. Her face is sad and just this side of miserable.

"I don't know any of this stuff," she whispers, frustrated, gesturing to the section on the forms for the father's information and medical history.

Steve wordlessly takes the clipboard from her and wraps his left hand around her right, giving it a gentle squeeze. She's slow to lift her gaze to his, watery eyes silently pleading with him, for what exactly he isn't sure, but he finds he's powerless against that look. "Don't worry, Darce. I've got it. It's all okay." Darcy takes a deep breath, slowly exhaling through her mouth. "Okay?"

She tucks a corner of her bottom lip between her teeth and gives him a noncommittal shrug. "I'm so nervous," she admits quietly.

There's a lurch in the pit of his stomach, his own nerves threatening to get the better of him. He can't afford to be nervous now, not when Darcy appears to only be holding it together with a rapidly fraying thread. "I know." Steve lifts their joined hands to his lips and presses a quick kiss to the back of her hand. "We're fine. It's going to be fine. Just breathe."

Darcy nods and tightens her hold on his hand, tentatively resting her head against his shoulder. "Somehow I almost believe you."

Shifting carefully in his seat, he maneuvers the clipboard with his right hand and begins filling out his portion of the forms. He hedges for a moment over the medical history and whether he should answer the questions as he is now or pre-serum. Deciding answering the latter would raise too many suspicions, he circles 'no' for all the questions asking if he or anyone in his family has had any serious medical conditions and hands the clipboard back to Darcy when he's finished. She gives him a grateful smile and stands up to turn in the forms.

When she returns, she pulls out her phone and starts playing a game with brightly colored game pieces. "Candy Crush is so stupid," she tells him. "Take my advice and don't download it."

That draws a chuckle out of him. "Then why do you play it?"

"It's a good way to pass the time and keep my mind off things."

That's something Steve understands. He wishes he'd brought a book or a sketchpad with him so he could do the same. There isn't much waiting time, however, as a young nurse in pink scrubs walks out and calls Darcy's name. He feels Darcy tense beside him before she pushes to her feet, and he stands to follow. She flicks her eyes up to his face and he thinks maybe he's made a mistake. "Should I not…can I come with you?"

"Of course you can. I just wasn't sure you'd want to."

"I want to."

Darcy nods and a smile flashes briefly across her face. "Okay. Let's do this."

* * *

The first stop on the tour is the bathroom and the nurse hands Darcy a cup, tells her to follow the instructions on the wall and fill it with a urine sample. Darcy's not sure why there are instructions given that it's pretty self-explanatory, but she agrees just the same and leaves Steve hanging out in the hallway while she uses the restroom.

When she's finished, she washes her hands and grabs the cup with a paper towel. Steve's eyes dart away uncomfortably when she opens the door and hands the sample to the nurse. Perhaps people who are in an actual relationship are less weirded out by cups of their baby mama's pee.

"Thank you," the nurse says. "Let's go across the hall. We need to get some blood samples next and then we'll get you into the exam room."

"All right," Darcy replies and gets ushered into the room where the phlebotomist is waiting to draw her blood. She hands over her driver's license when asked and takes a seat in the oversized chair with the moveable arm rest.

"Roll up your sleeve for me, please," the phlebotomist, Debbie, instructs, gently patting her right arm. She does and accepts the red stress ball Debbie holds out for her. "Keep pumping that in your hand until I tell you to stop."

Darcy can feel the weight of Steve's stare, so she turns her head and gives him a lopsided smile. "Wanna trade places with me?" she asks him as Debbie wraps a rubber tourniquet around her upper arm.

Steve shifts forward to rest his elbows on his knees and smiles back. "I would that I could, Darce. Not a big fan of needles?"

"Is anyone? Other than maybe smack addicts."

Debbie laughs and feels along Darcy's arm with her index finger searching for the best vein. "Go ahead and give the ball a tight squeeze and hold it." Darcy looks away and feels the cold alcohol wipe on the inside of her elbow. She's generally fine with giving blood as long as she doesn't actually _see_ the needle go into her arm. So she focuses on Steve instead, and he gives her another encouraging smile. He's really good with those, Darcy's learning. She manages only a slight wince when the needle sticks her arm. "Relax your hand," Debbie says.

After she fills up several tubes of blood, Debbie removes the tourniquet. She then gently slides the needles out of Darcy's arm and presses a cotton ball to the area and wraps it in bright pink flex wrap. "Leave this bandage on for an hour. You're all set," Debbie informs her.

"Well, that wasn't so bad," Darcy says and rolls down her sleeve. The blonde nurse from before comes in and tells Darcy and Steve to follow her to the exam room. She stops just outside the room and asks Darcy to step on the scale. Once she records her weight she ushers them into exam room three.

"There's a gown on the table for you. Everything needs to come off under it. Just have a seat on the exam table and the doctor will be in here shortly." She gives Darcy a tight-lipped smile and closes the door behind her.

Darcy sets her bag on the empty chair next to Steve and starts unwinding the scarf from around her neck. "Do you want me to step into the hallway?" he asks.

She shakes her head and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "Not necessary. We're having a baby. There's nothing here you haven't seen already."

"Are you sure? Because I can—"

"Steve!" she snaps. "It's fine. If you go out in the hall it's going to make it even more obvious to the staff that we're not in a relationship and while I know it shouldn't matter, I don't want them to judge me. Just…look away if that makes you feel more comfortable." It's stupid, this insecurity that manifested the moment she walked into this office, but she can't help it.

He says nothing, just shifts in his seat and stares at a poster about reproductive health on the wall. Fine by her. Sitting down, she unzips her boots and pulls them off, setting them neatly in the corner along with her socks. The silence in the room is deafening and uncomfortable and she hates that there's weird tension between them. Darcy stands and unbuttons her cardigan, draping it over the back of the chair before peeling off her tank top. She reaches for the waistband of her leggings and looks up to find Steve staring a bit slack-jawed at her. "What?"

His eyes snap up to hers and then he glances away guiltily, color blooming on his cheeks as he smirks at his boots. "Nothin'," he says.

She wasn't born yesterday and even though they haven't spent _that _much time together, she recognizes that smirk. That stupid, sexy smirk is one of the reasons they're in this mess in the first place. "That's not a _nothing _face, Rogers. Out with it."

"M'sorry," Steve says, rubbing a hand over his face.

Darcy's not buying that either.

"You're sorry. What are you sorry for exactly, Steve? For staring at my tits or getting caught doing it?"

"I promise I wasn't _trying _to stare," he says, shifting again in armless chair.

"Mhmm, likely story," Darcy teases, narrowing her eyes at him. "I don't think that defense will hold up in court." She smiles and shimmies out of her leggings, and Steve makes an obvious point to look away. She turns her back to him and reaches for the clasp on her bra.

"I wanted to see your stomach," he says quietly, the deepness of his voice slicing through the tension in the room. "I wanted to see if there was a change yet."

_Oh. _She glances over her shoulder and finds him watching her again. The smirk on his face has been replaced with sincerity and it makes her eyes sting. "Oh." Darcy turns her head away and pulls the ugly mint green gown over her head.

"But then I got sidetracked by trying to figure out if your tits are really that much bigger now or I'm just not remembering correctly."

"Steve!" Darcy admonishes laughingly, whirling around and throwing her bra at his head. He catches it effortlessly, a slow grin stretching across his face.

"I'm sorry."

"If you hadn't smirked when you said that it'd be more convincing." Darcy reaches under her hideous gown and slides her panties down her legs, folding them carefully. "They are, by the way," she says, snatching the bra from his outstretched finger. Steve's left eyebrow ticks up questioningly. "Bigger. They're obscene."

Steve lets out a derisive snort and shakes his head. "I know I'm not supposed to say this given our situation, but they look damn good. _You _look really good."

It's her turn to blush now and she kicks his shin lightly with her foot. "Stop it." She wishes that would have sounded half as scolding as it did in her head. Holding the back of her gown closed, she turns and hops up onto the exam table to wait for the doctor.

Thankfully they don't have to wait long. There's a quick rap of knuckles on the door before it swings open. A woman in her early forties with bright auburn curls walks in holding a chart. "Good morning, Darcy. I'm Dr. Carmichael." She smiles warmly and shakes Darcy's hand before turning to do the same to Steve. "So, looking at your chart the first date of your last period was July 1st, correct?"

"Yes," Darcy answers.

"That puts you right around eleven weeks. How have you been feeling? Any morning sickness?"

"Tired. I usually feel like I've been hit by a truck at the end of the day. And I have all-day sickness."

"Are you able to eat?"

"Usually. I have snacks throughout the day rather than meals and that seems to help."

Dr. Carmichael notes that on her chart. "Well, the good news is that the nausea typically subsides at the start of the second trimester and you're almost there. If it doesn't and you're still miserable, call the office and I'll write you a prescription to help with the nausea, okay?"

"That sounds great, thank you."

"I'll also get you a script for prenatal vitamins that you need to take daily. Tonya will give you a bag with some samples in it on your way out, so if there's one you like better, just let us know. Today's appointment is very much like your annual exam. I'll see you once a month until you're around 28 weeks and then it'll be every two weeks until the last month of your pregnancy when you'll come in once a week. You'll start to feel like you live here. I've got a few more questions to ask and then we can get started with the exam. Sound good?"

Darcy feels overwhelmed again, but she nods and pastes on a weak smile.

* * *

Once the exam is over and Darcy is dressed again, they're led down another hallway into a darkened room with a large screen mounted high on the wall, an adjustable bed, and machines he doesn't know the name of. Darcy sits on the edge of the bed and he takes a seat in the chair beside it. "How're you holding up?" he asks. She's been quiet ever since their playful moment in the exam room and he isn't sure whether that's because of his stupidity or if she's just overwhelmed with everything.

Darcy shrugs. "Alright, I suppose. This is just a lot to take in. How are you?"

"Same." Steve doesn't want to let on that he's a nervous wreck; that he's worried when they do the ultrasound the baby won't be okay.

A young woman with cropped dark hair and purple glasses walks in and greets them with a friendly smile. "Hi, I'm Stacy," she says, shaking hands with both of them. "Are you two ready to see your baby?"

Darcy's face pales and she digs through her purse for her stash of lemon drops and pops one into her mouth. She closes her eyes and holds up her finger, taking deep breaths in through her nose. "Sorry," she says after a moment. "False alarm."

"Oh, honey, you wouldn't have been the first to hurl in my room. Here's the trashcan if you need it. Lie back on the table and lift up your sweater and we can get started."

"Thank you," Darcy says and situates herself on the table.

Stacy rolls her chair and the cart with her machine to the side of the bed. "Push your leggings down to the top of your hipbones for me, please. Perfect." She grabs a bottle from the cart and squirts a clear gel substance on Darcy's stomach.

"I expected that to be cold," Darcy says, a smile ticking up the corners of her lips.

"Cold gel on your belly isn't fun," Stacy smiles. "Let's get started." She places the wand on Darcy's stomach and starts slowly moving it around.

Steve keeps his eyes glued to the screen, anxiously waiting for the baby to appear. Even with all of the things he's lived through and experienced in his life, it's still amazing to him that this type of technology exists that allows you to see your baby before its born. The screen is black and gray and grainy and he has no idea what it is he's seeing.

"I'm going to mark things on the screen so you know what you're seeing. I know it's confusing. Here's your left ovary," Stacy says, typing an 'LO' above it. "And here's your right." She moves the wand around some more and the screen becomes grainier still. "This is your placenta, and here is the yolk sac. And here," she says, moving the wand slowly, pausing when the picture becomes clearer, "is your baby."

The image on the screen is undeniable now, a profile of their baby. Steve can make out the nose and mouth and body, and he sees two tiny arms and legs moving on the screen. A sound fills the room, a rapid, rhythmic thumping that can only be the baby's heartbeat. "Wow."

"Good, strong heartbeat," Stacy says.

Steve's eyes prickle with the threat of tears as he watches the image of his baby—their baby—on screen and listens to the heartbeat echoing through the room. He feels Darcy's hand on his and she threads their fingers together. Turning, he sees tears on her cheeks and a smile on her face. "This is pretty incredible," she murmurs, tightening her hold on his hand. Afraid his voice will betray him, he says nothing and grins at her instead before turning his attention back to the screen.


End file.
